Apostate - Bucky BarnesxOC

six: funeral

She was perfect for that. Steve doesn't remember her name. She was a redhead, she looked a little bit like Natasha. That was helpful.

As he lathers his body with soap, he feels his cock twitch. Steve shakes his head.

"Not the time," he mutters.

But his body and mind have decided otherwise. When he closes his eyes, he can almost feel himself sinking into the woman from the bar... shit, what was her name? He made sure to get it.

Candice. It was Candice. She was beautiful. Steve remembers a set of warm brown eyes that reminded him of Peggy's, but Candice was so much different. She wasn't as stuck up, but then again, it wasn't 1943 anymore. She had a warm, musical laugh, soft lips, and a gorgeous fucking cunt. Fuck, she was soaked for him.

He gets lost in the memory, unable to escape it even when he opens his eyes.

Before Steve knows it, he's bracing one hand against the wall while he spits in his other hand and wraps his fingers around his cock. He strokes himself quickly, thinking about how Candice moaned for him, and how beautiful she sounded; how she fluttered against his cock, and how much he wished he were fucking Bucky instead.

Or maybe both. Both would be good, too. Both would be fucking great, actually.

Steve moans, and soon, the image of Candice is replaced by Bucky's face— by the two of them against the wall at the barracks on a rare quiet night. Bucky's hand is shoved down Steve's pants, stroking him hard and fast as their tongues dance together. It was the one and only time they acknowledged the electricity between them, only to never speak of it again. It wasn't appropriate in that time, and it sure as hell wasn't okay with anyone else. They risked being disciplined, discharged.

Bucky was trying to protect Steve's legacy.

"Captain America can't go home with a dishonourable discharge from getting a handjob in a hallway."

Steve strokes himself faster and faster, remembering the softness of Bucky's mouth against his. He whines, his head falling back as his cock throbs in his hand. His hips begin to snap, and his body shakes. Abs tighten and he lets out a soft grunt. He's been trying to control these urges, to repress them. He has a fucking job to do, but instinct his proving to be a little too powerful, even for a super soldier.

His thumb glides over the tip of his cock, spreading precum around and he imagines that it's Bucky's tongue, or Candice's— or fucking anyone's, just so he can feel something. This is pathetic, and he knows it, but he can't stop. The shower becomes a chorus of soft whines and pathetic whimpers as he desperately pumps his hips, the tip of his cock swollen and pulsing in his hand.

Soon, he feels that familiar knot in the pit of his stomach getting tighter and tighter as the water pounds against his muscular back. His fingernails try to dig into the tile to no avail as his thighs tremble. He's just barely holding himself upright.

He's fucking his hand hard and fast now... and then the knot explodes. White hot fire rushes through his veins and he cries out as he comes with a desperate and ragged moan, his come spilling all over the shower floor.

Steve takes a few breaths, his cheeks puffing out with each exhale.

"Jesus Christ."

It's been a while since he's done that, but his head feels a little clearer. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead agains the cool tile, sighing softly before he regains his composure and finishes soaping himself up.

He turns the shower off, towels off, and dresses quickly, finding a fresh pair of socks and a few more sets of clothes. He can burn what gets cut up and dirty. Deep down, he's still a bit of a neat freak... even in a zombie apocalypse.