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A branch snaps, and Bucky’s eyes fly open like a bolt of lightning.
Crickets. Darkness.
A silhouette of a shadow.
Bucky lurches forward and grips the spear from beneath the bedroll. It’s short, slightly blunt, but it will do. He’s supposed to be unarmed down here, though you can’t take the soldier out of the hundred-year-old man.
Moonlight slips in through the curtained doorway of the hut. The fabric is separated, where a small gap has been left.
Someone peeked inside.
Bucky steps out and into the night, the lush grass that caresses his bare feet. The air is fresh but tight. Silence lingers as a breeze ruffles Bucky’s hair.
A snort breaks the tension.
Bucky’s guard immediately falls. Right. He’s not in danger. It’s probably just those kids again.
But why would they be out at this hour? Isn’t it past their bedtime?
The thought dissipates when a tall, broad-shouldered figure withdraws from the trees.
And smirks.
“Catch me if you can, soldier.”
The spear slips from Bucky’s grasp, and he charges right into the dark forest. His opponent bolts through the maze of trees, the thick vegetation that slows neither of them down. This isn’t like the vast woodlands in the states, but there are places to sneak back and hide.
Somehow, Bucky loses sight of dark tactical leather and worn boots.
He takes that moment to catch his breath, to find his bearings, when the air punches out of his strained lungs. His back collides against a tree trunk, the bark rough and scratchy behind his flannel robe.
“You’re a bit rusty, pal.”
“Punk,” Bucky growls with annoyance. He gently shoves the chest in front of him. “Seriously? What the hell were you thinking back there?”
Steve’s lips curl. “Can’t a guy have a little fun?”
“Not like that. Jesus, Steve. I thought you were the enemy.”
“Some might think that,” Steve mutters under his breath. His face softens, eyes fond as he considers Bucky’s appearance. “You’re safe here. I wouldn’t have left you here if I didn’t think it was secure.”
“I know,” Bucky says, voice an echo of the sentiment. After a moment, he leans his head against Steve’s shoulder with a forlorn sigh. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” Steve replies just as softly, lips brushing Bucky’s forehead.
“I should be out there with you.”
“No. You need to stay here and rest; keep doing what you’ve been doing. I’ve got Tasha and Sam to watch my six.”
“Still won’t stop me thinking about you every waking second.”
“You think about me that much, Buck?”
“‘Course I do,” Bucky says, and he flicks his gaze down at the bulge in the tactical leather. “I think about a lot of things.”
Steve grins, crowding Bucky further in his space. “Such as?”
“Your body.”
“Mhm? Go on.”
“Your hands in my hair. The firmness of your chest against my back as we cuddle. How I could reach around and grab a fistful of your wonderful ass.”
Steve thrums with interest, eyes dark and cheeks light red.
“I also think about you ruining my mouth with this—” Bucky cuts himself off short, overwhelmed by the erection that he palms through the suit. It’s hard and heavy, the same thickness as he always remembered.
“Fuck, baby,” Steve gasps, breath hot in Bucky’s ear. “It’s been so long. Too damn long.”
Bucky smirks. “Happy to see me?”
“For you? Always and forever.”
“That’s my Captain,” Bucky mumbles, giving Steve’s cock another squeeze.
Steve pulls back with a hiss. Irritation flashes across his brows before he shakes his head and utters a sigh.
“Not a Captain anymore. Not right now.”
“No?”
“They all call me ‘Nomad,’” Steve says as he rolls up his sleeves, the window of skin on his forearms. “I go wherever I may roam. I adapt, I overcome. I take back what is rightfully mine."
Bucky feels a shiver glide down his spine. The love of his life stares right back at him, face shrouded with arousal, while an outstretched arm is placed high and above on the tree trunk. There’s nowhere for Bucky to run, nowhere to move. He’s effectively trapped by Steve’s bulk.
“On your knees, soldier.”
The title has Bucky automatically sliding onto the ground, where his knees are surrounded by dirt and grass. He keeps his posture neat, back straight, legs spaced together, and eyes up and attentive.
This used to be a regular occurrence. Out in the woods. Just the two of them together. Not another soul around to hear what they might do.
“I’ve been wanting this,” Steve says, a fingerless gloved hand stroking the erection from within the suit. The outline of his cock becomes more prevalent, still confined in the tactical leather. “Haven’t gotten off in weeks.”
Bucky’s hands itch to touch, but he restrains himself. This isn’t about him.
This is about Steve and Steve’s own pleasure.
“Touching myself just doesn’t do it for me anymore,” Steve mutters as he drags the zipper down. “Need the real thing.”
Bucky’s mouth begins to salivate when Steve’s hand briefly blocks the view, then arousal immediately floods his groin. The gap in the lowered zipper emphasizes the cock that pops out, thick and veiny, the tip flushed deep red.
Fuck. Steve’s huge.
The serum did enhance more than just his body mass.
“Open up, baby.”
Bucky shudders. He has no other choice but to sit there on his knees, lips parting wide for Steve to slip the head inside his warm mouth. The taste of salty sweetness pops on his tongue. Earthy notes of the outdoors, of rugged leather and cedar oak, overwhelm his senses. He could get lost in the muskiness for literal hours.
“Get it nice and wet,” Steve orders, voice deep with arousal. He lets out a soft rush of breath at the little kitten licks flicking over the tip. “Work that tongue, baby. I know how much you love to taste my cock. Yeah, I bet it’s good.”
So good, Bucky wants to say. He demonstrates his eagerness by taking the cock further into his mouth, halfway down the shaft, and running his tongue all along the skin. He laps at the entire length, every spot that he can access. The whole time, he feels Steve growing harder, tasting the pre-come that leaks out of the tip and springs onto his taste buds.
Steve’s right hand finds the top of Bucky’s head, leather gloves resting atop long strands of hair. The touch is grounding, safely comforting. Bucky continues worshiping the cock in his mouth while he feels a pair of eyes gazing down on his effort. His lips stretch into a barely-there smile.
“Gooood boy. Mmhm, fuck. That mouth is pure sin.”
Bucky inches down until his nose presses against the tactical leather, and he releases a shaky exhale from the stretch. He has every bit of Steve inside his mouth, deep in his throat.
How long has it been since he choked on his favorite cock?
Decades, Bucky’s brain supplies, right when a sharp tug on his hair barrels him toward the present.
“Gonna ruin this pretty mouth,” Steve says, thrusting strong and mercilessly. “Just like you fantasized about, yeah? Need me to get off on you, use you however I like.”
Bucky gags noisily, the thickness pushing back and forth in his throat. It’s relentless. Totally all-consuming, erotic, and powerful. He’s merely a fleshlight, made to be fucked in and out before spilling messily inside. He has no control over the pace, no say in the depth or the intensity.
It’s perfect.
Steve moans with the drive of his hips, the force that he installs from each breath. This continues for what feels like minutes, hours. Bucky looks up through his lashes, a peek at the man who once saved an entire nation. The same man who influenced society. Who abandoned the mantle and has now gone rogue, scruffy beard to boot.
A rover. A wanderer. A vagabond.
Nomad.
“Oh, shit, I’m gonna come,” Steve gasps, brows knitted in concentration, sweat dripping down his temples.
Bucky grips onto the bulk of Steve’s thigh, fingers clawing into the tactical leather. He rides out the moment, the slow seconds of a cock rutting in and out of his mouth. Until it finally happens—the sweet taste of hot, fresh come.
Steve pulls out halfway, gasping breaths breaking the silence in the forest. Saliva drips from Bucky’s chin, but not a single drop of come escapes his lips.
“Fuck, that was...” Steve pants, words lost in his throat.
Bucky suckles on the very tip, then draws back with a moan. “Hot as fuck,” he slurs, having no better way to describe that.
“Yeah,” Steve says with a tired sigh, tucking himself back into the suit.
They take a minute to collect themselves, then Bucky rises to his feet with the help of Steve. Finally, it’s only the two of them. As a couple. Lovers together.
Bucky slides a palm over Steve’s face and leans in close. A soft, yet long overdue, kiss is shared between them. The fine hairs of Steve’s beard graze Bucky’s cheeks, and Bucky smiles wide.
“If you shave this off, I’m coming to hunt you down myself,” Bucky says as he strokes Steve’s jaw. No seriously. That beard is the best thing to happen to Steve since the serum.
“How would you even know if I did?”
“I communicate with Natasha,” Bucky replies, tone serious. “I’d know the moment a razor touches your face.”
“Okay, okay! I’ll have Sam confiscate the shaving cream."
A gentle laugh is shared between them. They sway in an embrace, enjoying what little moments they have left together.
“How have you been, Buck? Really been.”
“I’m semi-stable,” Bucky says with a shrug. For a hundred-year-old man with decades of trauma? That’s pretty damn good. “I tend to the goats on the farm. I even named one Stevie ‘cause I swear, I never thought I’d see your personality in goat form.”
Steve chuckles. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“Damn right I do.”
The wind picks up, and a breeze passes them by. Words linger on Bucky’s tongue. He should say it. Tell Steve. Get it off his chest.
“The code words are gone,” Bucky says in one breath. He locks his gaze, eyes wet with unshed tears. “I’m... I’m free. I’m free.”
Steve gapes for a second, overwhelmed, then he promptly tightens his arms around Bucky’s upper back. “That’s good, Buck,” he whispers, voice muffled against Bucky’s left shoulder. “That’s really fucking good to hear.”
Bucky smiles and continues to sway. It’s been a long time coming. Freedom.
“What about you? What’s new in your secret world?”
“Oh, you know. Just taking down one terrorist organization at a time.”
“That’s my guy.”
Steve’s lips curl, and his eyes shine with fondness.
If only they had more time.
There’s never enough time in their lives.
“So did you come just for a quickie or are you here for a reason?”
Steve shakes his head with a huff. “No, I was actually in the area.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, not too far from here. Maybe a couple of miles.”
Bucky squints. This sounds like a load of—
“Ijustwantedtocheckinonyou.”
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Look, I just...” Steve raises a hand and glances between Bucky’s face and the ground. “I wanted to check in on you, okay? I was starting to get worried.”
Bucky makes a half sympathetic, half teasing sound. “Oh, you poor thing.”
“It’s not easy being on the run,” Steve says, lips pouted. He caresses Bucky’s left shoulder, right beside where the stump is wrapped by a fabric sling. “I wish I could be here with you.”
“Then stay.”
“But I—”
“Need to rest and recover.”
Steve blinks. It’s like the idea never occurred to him.
“You’re worried about me? Pal, you should be caring for yourself.”
Steve’s face crumples. “I guess I’ve been distracted.”
“Gets the best of us sometimes. Now come on, I have an extra bedroll.”
“Bedroll? What? I can’t sleep with you?”
“Oh, you can sleep with me,” Bucky laughs, pointedly glancing at his groin. “After all, I was left unsatisfied.”
Steve grins sheepishly. “Let’s get going, then.”