Chapter Text
Steve walked the dark streets alone. He knew where he was going. As he reached the alley, he threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed. He stepped forward, and the dark enveloped him. For a moment, he was alone, his heart pounding in his ears. Then strong hands grabbed his waist and shoved him backwards into the hard brick. As he regained his breath, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The goggles, the mask. They were familiar, but he wanted what was beneath. His hands were quick to seek the fastenings and remove them. And there it was. Bucky’s face. The eyes, though, they were someone different. Before he could think too much about it, though, warm lips found his, and two hands, one warm, one cold, were exploring every contour of his skin as if it was all brand new. And Steve couldn’t stop himself either, the Soldier was warm, and there, and soon his hands were tangled in long hair, pulling him closer, ever closer. As if by some miracle of touch he could awaken Bucky within him. It never worked, but if he closed his eyes, he could lose himself for a moment. With these hands on his skin, in his hair, tongues and limbs entwined... The stubble scratching his cheeks was nights on hard beds in Europe, stolen kisses and ever present mud. The hands on his waist were crisp fall nights, before the war, before the serum. And the warm body pressed against his, that… That was home.
After, when the Soldier had gone, he felt emptier than before.