Work Text:
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the tower
one creature was stirring, inside a hot shower.
“My name is Steve Barnes, how d’you do?”
he asked of his duck- small, rubber and blue.
The duck didn’t say too much in reply,
so Steve set it down with a contented sigh.
He scrubbed himself down, the highs and the lows;
he scrubbed himself ‘till he was red as a rose.
T’was a memorable eve, or so the man thought;
it was peaceful in New York with no havoc wrought.
The Avengers had cleared the country of crime
and now they could rest, for they had the time.
So little Steve worried, and little Steve said
‘cause he knew he’d be screaming when his ass was spanked red.
Our Rogers-Barnes lovers, a dynamic pair
had planned a romantic evening with flair.
Their sex life was spiced with the holiday spirit
to the dismay of their teammates. The noise, oh, they feared it.
The last time that Fury had walked in the act
Buck’s arm was in Steve, and shame they both lacked.
So now that the holidays reached the men’s bed,
Nick wore two black eyepatches atop his bald head.
Now Steve left his shower with considerable care
and ran a white towel through his fluffy, blonde hair.
Around his physique went a cloth, with a twist in
to effectively cover his dangling piston.
It stood with great valour, this American flagpole;
it yearned to be shoved in the Winter Man’s manhole.
“Not now, little friend!” Steve scolded his mate,
“I know we’re excited, but for now we must wait.”
And so it was true- dear Steve would be first
to top Bucky Barnes. And my, what a thirst
that wracked his whole body as he thought of the challenge
of wrestling his lover on top of his phallus.
T’was fact that our Winter had never been topped,
they’d tried in the thirties, but that night had flopped.
Buck just couldn’t think it, or have it a way
where any place but Steven’s ass he would stay.
In the film of his life, it wouldn’t quite cut
to have another man’s knob in his butt.
But Steven had convinced for him to forgo
and spread his firm, tanned ass for his bro.
That night they had skipped over Tony Stark’s fest
down two floors below, so they could get rest.
Steve showered, and Bucky relaxed on the bed
both silently waiting for the thirst to be fed.
The noise of the party would cover their sounds;
the disgustingly dirty moans, pants and pounds.
A whiff of the thought caught Steve’s flaring nose
as he carefully put on his sheer pantyhose.
His boner was doing some serious lifting
but he looked in the mirror, confidence drifting.
Steven was doubting his sexual ability;
it was his first time topping a man, you see.
But for Barnes, the captain would do just about all
so he burst out the bathroom with a stance rather tall.
An elaborate costume of red, white, and green
held Steven Grant Barnes as a large Christmas tree.
A lustrous, red bow on the front was an offence;
it hardly fit through the short bathroom entrance.
It was ridiculously tall and broad and quite festive
but it was a cover for something much more suggestive.
Under the costume was a pleasant surprise;
some lingerie that clung to his beefy, white thighs.
Steve’s husband lay spread, across the white sheets,
in a fashion with which an angel couldn’t compete.
Steve looked on to his lover with glee
before snapping out of his sweet reverie.
“Hoe, hoe, hoe.”
Bucky’s eyes fixated on the grand, wine-red bow,
and smirked. “Aren’t you meant to say, ‘ho, ho, ho’?”
Steve cocked his head and the head of his cock,
which poked out the tree, hard as a rock.
“How can you see the spelling?” Steve inquired,
wondering whether or not in Buck’s arm it was wired.
“I eat lots of carrots, there are plenty this century.”
“I have one you can eat, t’would be much more sensory.”
“Are you rhyming my sentences on purpose, or are you really just that shitty at pickup lines?”
Some silence passed between them. Steve paused, his thick, meat-tentacle fingers awkwardly fumbling at the hems of his Christmas tree costume. In these moments, he was thankful he hadn’t chosen to adorn himself with the larger matching Mickey Mouse gloves that came in the package. He’d figured it would be too frustrating to attempt to spread Bucky’s asscheeks with them. But he kept them under the bed, juuuust in case.
“Um, I don’t know. It just kind of slipped out,” he mumbled, daring to take a step closer to the man spread out for him on the bed.
Steve then recollected the sexual mood.
“But it won’t be too long till I’m slipping in you.”
At this, Buck laughed with a ferocious tone,
one that only served to bring back Steve’s bone.
The mayonnaise squirter pointed to Buck
as if it were the North Star, geared for a fuck.
“Promise me that you’ll be gentle,”
Bucky teased in a voice smooth as lentils.
Steve chuckled, and without as much as a word
He tackled his husband with the flight of a bird.
He jumped and he soared, all thanks to the serum.
Steve backflipped mid-air. All men should fear him.
But not our Bucky, no, he was aroused.
He couldn’t wait for himself in semen to be doused.
Steve landed on Bucky, straddling his thighs-
a perfect position to watch his flag rise.
And boy, did it stand, and boy, did it leak.
At the sight, Steve-bird squawked from his American beak.
“Bucky want a cracker?” Steve drawled, eyes roaming Buck’s body.
“Steve, that’s racist,” Buck shot back, voice haughty.
“Shh, my sweet,” Steve whispered, hands wandering south
as he shoved three saltines inside Bucky’s mouth.
Barnes moaned at the texture of grainy delight
and knew he was in for one heck of a night.
“You gonna prepare me?” Barnes asked, his ass wiggling.
He turned over so Steve could watch them cheeks jiggling.
Speechless, Steve reached back, his hand held up high,
and he brought it down on Buck’s ass with a cry.
“Aw hell yiss,” Barnes-Rogers sexily replied,
and he pulled out his bucket of lube from the side
of the bed, right next to his Mickey Mouse hands.
He took a deep whiff, sparking his testicular glands.
It smelled like the cereal Frosted Flakes;
there was plenty for Steve to frost Bucky’s cakes.
He started on his back, and with skills of art,
Steve drew on his husband a lovely, lubed heart.
Bucky shivered, the sensation wild
but parted from Steve, fearing a child.
“Steven Grant Barnes, we forgot our protection!”
Buchanan exclaimed, halting Steven’s affection.
“You’re right, Buck, I’m sorry,” Steve shook his head gravely,
“we’re not ready for a kid, so we must fuck safely.
It’s my first time, I know, and you were expectant.
I knew lack of thinking would get my man pregnant.”
Steve solemnly reached for the large condom basket
but his hands came up empty; wasn’t that fantastic.
“Buckward,” Steve poked him with his meaty hand blubber,
“I’m afraid we’re not in possession of rubbers.”
“What, Steve?” Bucky was on his hands and knees, steady.
“Won’t you just get inside me already?”
Our new top was panicking. No condom, no ass,
he thought to himself with captainly class.
He needed to find an alternative, quick,
before he could give Bucky’s fleshcakes a lick.
He searched all the drawers, but to no avail,
only riled furthermore when Buckley let out a wail.
A-ha!
He rapidly dunked inside the lube bucket
the Mickey Mouse-like glove, because, fuck it.
He needed his Bucky, he needed him soon,
and his huge manly muffin as round as the moon.
Steve ripped off a finger from the white, lubed-up glove
and slipped it on his flagpole of love.
Now, we’ve mentioned that this glove was quite oversized
but on Steven’s third leg, it fit like a prize.
He turned to his Bucklin, ready to go
with a finger ready to emit organic snow.
“Are ya ready, kids?” Steve viciously let out a cry.
“AYE, AYE, CAPTAIN!” Buchanan twerked a reply.
“
OOOOHHHHHHH!
” Steve wildly wiggled his hips
and slowly but surely made it past Buck’s ass lips.
His cheeks parted reverently, the gates were now open
Steve grunted and went to Buck’s neck for a chokin.
Bucky quivered and shivered, partly in confusion.
“What the heck kind of condom are you usin?”
Steve froze, his miniscule movements ceasing.
“No, Stevie, don't stop. It's really quite pleasing.”
It was true- the furry texture of the glove was relaxing,
if Steve hadn't stopped, surely he'd be climaxing.
And so he once more began his rhythmic stabbing,
on Bucky’s ass his hands were greedily grabbing.
The Frosted Flakes lube kept a fluid motion,
but the sounds the two made were what made a commotion.
The guests down at Stark’s, over the sounds of the talking,
could hear a faint screaming, and a headboard violently rocking.
But little they did, and little they said,
because they didn't know Barnes’ ass was spanked red.
Our Rogers-Barnes lovers, a dynamic pair,
were having a romantic evening with flair.
The Winter Soldier was pounded by a decorated tree Steve,
a truly unique aspect to a Christmas eve.
Mickey Mouse was pointing in an ancient man’s anus;
Walt Disney had never wanted something so heinous.
Dear Steven, using the glove as a wrapper,
was coming close to cumming, and wasn't that dapper?
Barnes’ front rudder vibrated with manly power,
as a powerful roar ripped throughout the whole tower.
The guests of Stark’s party stopped in a shock,
as the Barnes-Rogers sheets were painted by cock.
Buck panted and came, a beautiful sight.
Steve coming to orgasm, now, that was a fright.
The sight of his husband, laid out spread for him,
left the poor Barnes’ asshole filled to the brim.
The Mickey Mouse finger had done nothing to stop
the flowing Man Juice emitting from the top.
Soon enough, the finger had completely drained through,
so what else could our dear Stevie do?
He ripped off the glove with force he didn't lack
and shot the rest of his load on Bucky’s back.
The Gay Milk committed an act of osmosis,
when it fused with the lube. Both men hadn't noticed
the heart Steve had drawn with the Frosted Flakes lube
was water in the picture on Bucky’s back boob.
The semen mixed and spread, and soon fell apart
when both men arched their backs to see a white heart.
Buck whispered in awestruck joy, “It's beautiful.”
Steve nodded. “A true lovers’ Christmas miracle.”
And they held hands, and fell asleep in Steve's arm
and puddle of their fluid, but to them it didn't harm.
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the tower
one creature was stirring inside a cold shower.
Our dear Tony Stark, we hadn't forgotten,
had never heard any sound quite as rotten
as the filthy soundtrack of SteveBucky roamed
and sent all his Christmas party guests home.
So now he stood still, in his black Gucci dress,
waiting quietly for Saint Nick to take care of the mess.
But dear Santa was flying, quite far from Stark’s luck.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good fuck! ”