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Soft lips sucked bright, candy pink marks into the skin of Steve's hips and neatly clipped nails dug into his thighs, leaving crescent shaped marks. A shuddery breath left his lips and he let his eyes fall closed, coiling his fingers in the sheets. That reaction warranted a smug smile against his stomach, followed by a kiss.
“Bucky…”
It was barely a breath, a quiet whisper that hung in the air for a second too long.
It was long enough.
TJ pulled back, and when Steve opened his eyes, he could see the glint in his eyes fading and dying. Steve could feel hot bile rising up the back of his throat and he wanted to disappear.
“Steve?” That was the sound of Steve's heartstrings snapping, and he couldn't say a thing.
At the lack of response, TJ’s face fell and he pushed himself to his feet, hurrying away out of the bedroom.
Steve slammed a fist against the mattress, furious at himself. He could hardly imagine what TJ was feeling - he'd mentioned, briefly, how he'd felt second best for so long, inferior to his brother especially. Now, in his mind, he was second best to a dead man. Steve didn't know what it would take to fix it this time.