Chapter Text
It’s a Tuesday night when the realization hits Bucky like a brick to the face.
Nothing unusual happens that day, nothing to drag it out of him kicking and screaming in some fantastic manner like one would expect from such an epiphany. It’s just the usual ten hours of work followed by a nice walk home, then snagging his best friend from art class. They recount their day, or discuss the dames, or whatever Steve drew in class… never about the encroaching winter or the fear that they won’t be able to afford to keep the heat on. Or the fear that Steve will finally succumb to one of the many illnesses that plague him year after year.
Tonight, Steve’s hair hangs over his face, long enough that it’ll need a cut soon. Bucky will have to grab the scissors and work through it himself; they can’t afford a barber. Things have been tighter than usual since Steve had that trip to the emergency room a few weeks ago and a portion of their paychecks had to go towards the bill.
Trying to brush off the melancholy settling in his bones when he thinks of such things, Bucky looks at Steve. The light retreats earlier every night, and the streetlamps are already awake. The glare is harsh in his eyes, but it somehow softens Steve’s features, and somewhere between that and the lock of blonde hair that’s blown into his eyes and his usual vibrant spirit, something stirs inside Bucky. It’s something low in his gut, tingling up his spine. It’s breathtaking.
Steve is breathtaking, and he doesn’t know how he never saw it before.
For a moment he thinks he’s gonna pull a Steve Rogers and fall down right there, in the middle of the Brooklyn sidewalk; his lungs just won’t pull enough oxygen and time slows to a crawl.
Steve walks a couple more steps before he realizes Bucky has stopped behind him.
“Buck? You alright?”
Bucky forces in a deep breath and closes his eyes, holding it. “Yeah, ‘m fine Stevie. Just a little tired, I guess.”
Steve, the little shit, has always been able to read James Buchanan Barnes like a book. He appraises his best friend with a quirked brow, not buying it for a second.
“What are you hiding, Bucky?”
“Nothin’, I swear.”
“Uh huh. You’re keepin’ somethin’ from me, Buck. I’ll figure it out, you know I will. Might as well fess up.”
Bucky drinks in the sight of his best friend and tries to ignore the longing that urges him to move forward and grab Steve. He wants nothing more in that moment than to kiss him ‘til the sun comes up.
His eyes close again. Now that he recognizes the feeling for what it is, he can’t deny its grip. The grip it has had for a long time. He has to come up with a plan. Steve’s right, he can’t keep this secret for long.
But right now, Bucky’s mind is clouded with the fact that he’s a terrible human being.
It isn’t that he’s an alpha and Steve is a beta, which is not unheard of but highly frowned upon.
It isn’t that they’re both alphas who couldn’t mate no matter how much they wanted to.
It isn’t even that Steve is an omega, one of those rare males saddled with all the crazy mating hormones that he can do nothing with- other than ride out the pain of an unmated heat or find an alpha kind enough to get him through it. The same-sex aspect of that would be weird enough, even if it is technically legal.
No. It’s that Steve is nothing . His body was too sick to give a conclusive answer when they tested him on his 18th birthday. It seems somewhat odd to Bucky that that’s the case, considering Steve is capable of going to classes, taking commissions, walking around, and most importantly, jerking off (and probably fucking)… but nevertheless, the doctors had been unable to classify his status due to his health problems.
Worse, since he’s always been a social outcast, this is just one more way in which Steve Rogers doesn’t fit in with his peers.
And because of this, pining after him is the same as fancying a child. Steve, as an “unclassified,” can’t legally give consent at all.
Bucky shakes himself out of it and catches up with Steve, who is watching him curiously.
“Seriously, Buck, what’s up with you?”
“I already told ya, Steve. I’m fine. Let’s go home. I still got some of that hot cocoa from ma that we could heat up.” Maybe we could snuggle together, too, yeah?
No , he thinks to himself. I won’t be able to do that anymore. Not now.
Steve lets him off the hook, though Bucky suspects that it won’t last given Steve’s incessant need to poke, and they walk in mostly companionable silence the rest of the way, even if Bucky is attempting to rid his mind of anxiety. He’s more comfortable by the time they get back home, but his mood dives down again when Steve grabs him for a hug as soon as the door closes. For one thing, Bucky is supposed to be the one protecting Steve from his demons, not the other way around.
For another... god, but his inner alpha can smell the smaller man; the pheromones are strongest at the top of his head, which is right in Bucky’s face. It’s not a mating scent at all, no, but the clean, pure smell of his Stevie, something even the sexiest omega around could not rival even smack in the middle of a heat.
He burns, skin hot with the desire to take Steve into his arms and make love to him, push him against the wall and rut against him, not rough like he would normally, but with passion and real feeling. Nothing at all like he’s done so far in his sexual encounters.
He wants to make love this time. Not fuck.
“Buck,” Steve whispers into his neck. “I’m here for you if you need to talk.”
And that’s his sweet little Stevie, too. Always knowing when to give Bucky space, always offering himself and expecting nothing in return.
“I know, Steve… ugh… I gotta go, I’ll be right back…”
He barely makes it to the toilet in time to throw up. Then he looks at himself in the mirror, eyes reflecting a pain no medication could abolish.
Bucky Barnes is in love with his best friend, and it means he’s a monster.
Two weeks later, his Stevie- and Bucky can no longer think of him as anything but his , much to his dismay- is all fired up. There’s rumors the States will get involved in the war. Steve is, of course, chomping at the bit to enlist, and there is nothing in the world that Bucky won’t do to ensure his precious guy is safe if the worst comes to pass.
Steve would have none of that, so he wisely keeps his mouth shut and hopes for the best.
It’s become clear to Bucky that Steve knows. How could he not? They’ve been joined at the hip since they were six.
And it’s not like he’s been particularly subtle about it, either. His mind keeps screaming one thing, but his body and heart just continue to waltz off into the sunset together, refusing to follow orders.
Pull your eyes away, he’d tell himself when his friend would strip down to his boxers before climbing into their shared bed.
Don’t make a sound, don’t let him know you’re listening, you idiot , he’d think whenever Steve touched himself in the small hours of the morning.
Stop thinkin’ about him like this , he’d whisper to himself at all hours of the day.
He’s a bug under a microscope when it comes to his best friend. So yes, Steve Rogers one hundred percent knows how Bucky feels; it’s there in his eyes when he dares to meet them. Probably even an idiot would figure it out, given his recent behavior.
But his best friend doesn’t address it, and at the end of the day, it changes nothing. Their easy camaraderie is still there. Their gossiping and joking about the beautiful women that fall at Bucky’s feet continue as though he were a normal guy with normal desires. As though he were an alpha in search of a nice female omega to bond for life and to have lots of little babies with. They both know it’s a lie, but they maintain the illusion anyway.
Until the night that they can’t any longer, at least.
Steve circles the living room, glorious in his passion and desire to fight for his country. Before his revelation two weeks ago, Bucky would have found it amusing, if slightly alarming. Not that there is any way the Army will take him, but still. That wouldn’t have quieted Bucky’s fear before, but now?
This is a whole different ballgame. All he can think is keep Steve safe, keep Steve safe , a litany rattling about in his head until he’s driven himself silly. Like his inner alpha is dying to come out and play, to protect at all costs this beautiful blonde boy that owns his heart. With his own life, if need be. That possessive, protective thing that people had always told him would come naturally in a few years’ time is right there at the surface, and it’s all Bucky can do to avoid snarling at the thought of his Stevie suffering.
God, but he’s a right mess.
Steve stops pacing and glances at him. “I know what you’re thinkin’, Buck.”
“Is that right, punk?”
“I’m always right.”
“So tell me what I’m thinkin’ then, since the almighty Steve Rogers is so wise.”
“You’re thinkin’ there’s no way you’re gonna let little Stevie enlist.”
Bucky says nothing. It is, after all, what he is thinking.
Steve glares, another of those faces that Bucky absolutely adores. “You’re not gonna stop me, Buck. Don’t even try.”
He throws his hands up. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
The blonde eyes him suspiciously. “There’s no way I’ll get away with it that easily.”
Bucky sighs. “I’ll tie you down if I have to, Stevie. You’re not gonna end up dead in a ravine somewhere in the German snow. Not on my watch.”
Steve stops his pacing. “I already told you, you can’t stop me. You have to sleep sometime.”
He’s getting a little animated himself, and only Steve Rogers has ever been able to accomplish that. “We’re not even at war, Rogers. We might not ever go to war. It’s Europe’s problem. Nobody’s done nothin’ to us. Why should we go fight and die for them?”
Uh-oh, that was the wrong thing to say.
“... why should we? I thought you were better than that, Buck.”
The disappointment in Steve’s eyes is too much to bear. Truth is, he is better than that. If it wasn’t for Steve, he’d happily enlist to fight the minute the US declared war. It’s a noble cause. Not to mention he’s part Jewish, and the rumors of events in Germany are worrying at the very least.
But he does have Steve to protect, and despite the perversity of his feelings, he can’t just walk away and leave him here. He’ll get sick and end up on the street, and Steve won’t survive a single winter homeless. The truth is shit, but it’s truth nonetheless.
No, if Uncle Sam wants him, he’s gonna have to call his draft number. And even then, Bucky’s not sure he’ll be able to leave.
Seeing no more of Bucky’s internal struggle other than that there is one, Steve turns and walks towards their bedroom in a huff.
Something feral snaps in Bucky then.
He’s on Steve before he can even understand his own actions, turning him around and pushing him against the wall, gentle but firm all at once. He angles his head to kiss the younger man, and surprisingly, Steve offers little resistance after his initial shock. He gives back as much as he gets. The kiss is messy and clumsy, tongues and teeth and saliva and so, so perfect.
Unfortunately, Bucky quickly registers what he’s done, and steps back, horrified.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry Stevie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Steve takes a step and tugs him in by his hips, locking them together. “Don’t.”
And it works. The words tumbling from Bucky’s lips as if of their own accord suddenly stop, like Steve had slammed a cork in his throat.
The young men gawk at each other, faces flushed and eyes dilated. Bucky’s the first to speak, feeling his hot breath reflected off of Steve’s upturned face.
“Stevie, I- we can’t. I’m an alpha. It would be like mating with a child.”
The anger in his best guy’s face is almost enough to knock him into next week.
“What did you call me?” Steve’s voice is low and dangerous.
“It’s not like that, and you know it. I wouldn’t see it that way. But the law would. You’re not registered as anything, which makes it statutory rape, and your body isn’t made to handle a cock this big, anyway, let alone a knot. You’re a fella, for Christ’s sake.” And you’re supposed to submit to me , he thinks but doesn’t add. Steve Rogers ain’t never submitted to anyone in his life and he ain’t about to start now.
“I don’t care. I can handle anything you got, Buck,” Steve whispers. It’s the voice, Bucky knows, that brooks no arguments. Steve’s not gonna listen when he has his mind set on something like this.
And Bucky knows he shouldn’t let it go any further, that he shouldn’t have pushed it this far in the first place, but he doesn’t have much resistance. He never has, not when it comes to this feisty little blonde.
“Steve…”
“I want you, Bucky,” Steve rubs against him, arousal clearly outlined and poking into his hip, thin fabric the only thing separating Steve’s aching cock from his own.
He’s fairly certain he’s gonna give in, God help him, even though it’s probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. But he tries one more time, knowing it’s useless.
Knowing that he wants it to be useless.
“Stevie, baby. I don’t want to hurt you. And this will hurt you.” And you’re already so fragile , he doesn’t add.
“If it’s too much, I’ll tell you, Buck. But I want this. I need this. It’s not fair that I can’t have this. I’m not broken!”
“I know you’re not,” Bucky whispers in a sad voice.
“Then why are you waiting?”
In response, Bucky grabs him under the knees and lifts him, like the most delicate of dames, and carries him into the bedroom.
He gently places Steve on the bed, but is practically pulled on top of the smaller man as he’s kissed to within an inch of his life. Steve’s mouth is warm and inviting, and their tongues dance passionately. Bucky doesn’t want it to end, ever, but he can hardly catch his breath and has no idea how Steve is able to kiss like this without having an asthma attack.
As he pulls back, concerned, Steve shoots him a stern glare. Sometimes it isn’t a good thing that they can practically read each other’s minds.
“I swear to God, Buck, if you back out on me now-”
Bucky gathers himself on top of Steve, careful to avoid crushing him, and stares at his beautiful blue eyes fondly. “I could never say no to you, Stevie. Never in my entire life.”
Even though he figures it should be pretty obvious, apparently Steve still feels the need to ask. Bucky’s heart aches when he hears the apprehension in Steve’s voice. Of course, this is a big step, so some trepidation is understandable. Not about how Bucky feels about Steve, though. Never that.
“So… you really want me? You want to do this?”
“I don’t know, pal, what do you think?” He thrusts against Steve, who can’t help but push back.
“Why did you stay quiet?”
He scoffs and looks at Steve incredulously. “You kiddin’ me, punk? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Gee, I dunno, maybe because it’s illegal and we’d be judged even if it wasn’t. You’re an alpha. You should be mating with omegas. Female omegas.” His voice is bitter.
“Stevie, babe, I don’t care.” He scoops up the smaller man, close enough to sniff his clean, heady scent. “That’s not it. I thought maybe because you were my best friend, it was wrong to feel this way, especially considering… you know. But I wouldn’t care what anyone thought no matter what your orientation.” He sighs and leans down to kiss Steve with a tenderness Steve would’ve never guessed Bucky had in him. “It’s illegal, baby,” he whispers. “I could get in big trouble.” Not to mention you’d die without me if I went to jail . “And I don’t want to hurt you,” he emphasizes again.
“Why don’t you trust me to make that call for myself, Bucky?”
“What do you think I’m doin’ right now? I’m not runnin’ away, am I?”
Steve reaches out and wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling him down for another bruising kiss. When Bucky pulls back, he decides he has to put his foot down, set some ground rules.
“We’re taking it slow, Stevie. I trust you to tell me if it’s too much, but I’m not jumpin’ straight into fucking you.”
Steve squeaks in protest, but Bucky speaks over him.
“No. There’s gonna be rules here. Omega or no, I’m an alpha and you’ll do as I say. I’m here to make you feel good, baby, don’t doubt that. I gotta be careful with you- don’t interrupt me, Steven- if we’re gonna fuck, and that’s gonna take time, okay? I can’t take care of you the way you need it otherwise. Is that understood?”
To his surprise and delight, Steve nods demurely and looks down, blush spreading across his cheeks. This can’t possibly be the same Steve Rogers he knows and loves, can it? The instant Bucky makes it clear who’s in charge, his whole demeanor changes in a manner so un-Steve-like it’s eerie. It ignites the fire in Bucky’s belly. He fervently wishes he didn’t have to lay down the law like this. To be able to let go and fuck Steve’s brains out… fuck , that would be heaven.
‘Cuz make no mistake, fucking Steve into the bed sounds like a fantastic idea right about now- the best of the best ideas this time.
Funny how this whole thing went from worst to best, ain’t it?
“Buck…” Steve whispers.
“I know. Kiss me again, Steve.”
Bucky keeps his word. After twenty minutes of kisses ranging from sweet and slow to bruising passion, Steve is practically begging him. Not just with his clever mouth, either; his whole body cries out for Bucky, back arching and hips thrusting up against the other man.
Bucky grabs his hips and holds him down with a snarl. “Did I say you could do that, Steve?”
The blonde swallows nervously. “No…”
“There’s a rule you’re going to have to learn to follow now. When I ask you a question, you answer it with a no, sir, or a yes, sir . Understood?”
“Yes… yes, sir.” A visible shiver goes through Steve as he says it, and his skin burns with embarrassment.
“That’s good then, you’re so good for me. Did you know that, baby?” Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair.
“Buck…”
Bucky stares at Steve’s flushed face. He can’t keep Steve waiting much longer, despite how badly he wants to take him to the edge again and again and hear him beg like a good little omega.
But Steve is not an omega, and he has to remind himself of that sternly.
Steve pants as Bucky removes his clothes in the most teasing way he knows how, pulling the t-shirt off of Steve’s torso with a gentle touch and sucking slow bruises down the skinny body now presented to him. Every time he pulls one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, it’s like a firework has gone off in the blonde’s body, and Bucky’s body responds in kind.
This isn’t about him, though; he wasn’t lying when he said he wants to make Steve feel good. With the normal alpha’s protective instinct comes an overwhelming need to take care of his lover, omega or no.
He painstakingly makes his way down to the corduroy trousers to tease Steve, who is by now moaning rather loudly. He crawls up to silence the blond by biting his neck, completely on instinct. After a moment, he sits up in shock.
That’s how an alpha bonds his omega. If he went deep enough, Steve would retain the mark and officially belong to Bucky. Or rather, he would if he were an omega; he’s unsure of what happens to an unclassified. And he can’t do that to Steve, can’t risk it becoming a permanent mark. At that point, his scent would repulse any other alphas nearby. People would know they’d mated, which would present the very problem they’re trying to avoid.
But the action has the intended effect. Steve goes quiet and whimpers at the feel of Bucky’s teeth in him.
The whimper drags a moan out of Bucky and he growls as he pulls off Steve’s pants, no longer wanting to wait, needing to taste the young man currently writhing underneath him. When he licks the head of Steve’s cock, he nearly comes undone from the response alone.
It’s different than it is with a dame but no less arousing. Steve’s scent is strong here, almost as compelling as at the top of his head, a bit muskier and thicker but still all Steve Rogers. The taste of him is just as good, sweet and bitter and absolute heaven on his tongue. He moans into it as he works on swallowing Steve down.
Male genitalia comes in all shapes and sizes, of course, but as an alpha, Bucky is rather well-endowed in that department. Steve is too, much to his surprise. It’s absolutely beautiful but it also worries him. What if Steve comes into his own one day and turns out to be an alpha?
That doesn’t seem likely, though. If Steve has an alpha hidden in him somewhere, he’d be putting off pheromones to disgust Bucky. He’s at least a beta- most of the population is anyway- and quite possibly there’s an omega in there dying to come out.
It doesn’t matter at this point, Bucky thinks, because he’s with Steve anyway. No going back now, and he wouldn’t even if he could.
He can’t discover the extent of his mouth’s skills yet, because Steve comes with a shout not two minutes after Bucky first touched him. He swallows it all down, every thick, hot drop of it, cleaning Steve with his mouth until he’s writhing with the overstimulation.
Steve’s on cloud nine, eyes dazed and breath coming fast. For a moment Bucky worries about a possible asthma attack, but there are no telltale wheezes in that breath. It’s just part of the afterglow.
In fact, if he didn’t know any better, Bucky would think Steve had gone into subspace.
Steve is bundled up against his chest, the same way they sleep during the winter but with a much different implication tonight. He threads an arm under Steve’s neck and places his hand against his heart, reveling in the quick, fluttery beat of it. He holds Steve as he falls back to earth, as it were.
“You with me, baby?” he asks when he thinks Steve’s all there again.
“Bucky… oh god, Buck.” A sigh escapes the other man and Bucky can’t help but smile against one bony shoulder. He kisses it and snuggles in close.
“You should… I should help you…”
“No, Stevie. I told you we’re taking it slow, and you’re a mess right now.” Not that he’s not ten kinds of hot and bothered, but Steve’s comfort is most important to him at the moment. There’ll be time for the rest later.
“Yeah well, whose fault is that?”
“Yours, punk. You’re the one who begged me.”
Steve half-heartedly reaches back to hit him, but when he next speaks, his voice is small and bashful.
“I love you, Bucky.”
“I love you too, Stevie.” God, but he does, more than anything. Steve is his sun and moon and everything in between.
Yeah, definitely no regrets.