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They've been at Sharon's party about five minutes when Bucky grabs Sam by the shoulder and hustles him off to a quiet corner.
"What's up?" Sam asks, looking Bucky over. Bucky's been avoiding even looking at Sam, but now he's looking, and he doesn't look great. His eyebrows are drawn together, he's got a kind of desperate look on his face, and Sam's not sure what it means but it can't be anything good.
"I need a favor. And it's a big ask, so-- I'm sorry. In advance."
Sam frowns, taken aback. "Don't apologize. It's cool. We're cool. Whatever you need." He saw what happened in the bar, in Selby's back room; he's also been on the receiving end of the real, deep-in-the-brainwashing Winter Soldier on more than one occasion. If Bucky needs something after that, Sam's got no idea what he has to offer, but he's unquestionably ready to do it.
He thought so, anyway. Bucky leans in close-- it's quiet here, but it's maybe not quiet enough for what he has to say-- and says, low in Sam's ear, "Can we get out of here for five minutes, because I need to suck your cock, and I can't wait any longer."
"Wh--" Sam puts a hand on Bucky's arm and pushes him back. "The fuck?"
Bucky's expression goes all dark and shuttered and, shit, humiliated on top of it. "I wouldn't fucking ask if I had a choice," he says through gritted teeth.
Ouch. Well, so much for that stupid crush Sam's been sitting on for months. "Why don't you have a choice, and again let me say: what the fuck?"
"I don't know, it's not supposed to be like this anymore! They fixed me. In Wakanda. Ayo went through all ten phrases, she did what you have to do to trigger me, but it didn't work. Hell, Zemo tried to pull it, but that didn't work, either."
Sam is going to strangle Zemo with his bare hands. "Zemo did what?"
"Never mind, that's-- what used to happen, what I used to do, after every mission, every time I got back, going back to, I don't know, '91 I guess, when they shipped me stateside-- I do a job, I come back, the first handler that touches me gets a blowjob, I go back under ice."
Sam's just staring now, because that is exactly the kind of fucked-up dick-swinging humiliate-your-enemies bullshit Hydra would pull, shit.
And down at the bar--
"You put your hand on my arm," Bucky says.
"I'm not your handler."
"I know that." Bucky gestures at the base of his skull. "Something in here doesn't."
"What did you mean, you can't wait any longer?"
"I mean it feels like I'm an addict who didn't dose. I'm getting withdrawal symptoms. Any longer and I'm not going to be able to hold my own when we go see Nagel, or with anything else that happens."
Sam puts his lips together and takes a breath in through his nose. "First time we get a chance, we're getting you back to Wakanda and getting this leftover whatever-in-fuck fixed."
"Obviously."
"In the meantime--"
The look of relief on Bucky's face makes Sam's gut clench. He puts a hand under Bucky's elbow and tugs. There's a lot of empty rooms in this place, and he drags Bucky away to find one.
---
The first empty room they find is some kind of storage room, filled floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. It'll do fine. Sam doesn't bother looking for a light; the exterior lights coming in through the window make it less than dark, which is good enough.
Bucky glances at the door for a couple of seconds, then shoves a stack of five boxes over so it blocks the door.
"No lock," he says.
"I figured it was that or you were just being extra sure."
Bucky snorts, which is a relief-- at least he's still in there. Wait, no, fuck. This is not a relief at all, Sam realizes; Bucky's still in there, and leftover Hydra programming is making him have sex he doesn't want to have. Which Sam is going to have to provide.
Thinking about it like that makes Sam ask, "Is this going to work if I don't, uh."
"If you don't what?"
"If I don't come?"
Bucky gives him a look that, even in the low light, seems pretty damn skeptical. "You don't think I can get you off?"
"Uh, I'm sure you could get me off just fine, if you were into dick. Specifically my dick. And you weren't doing it under duress. You know there's a name for that, right?"
"So pretend I'm into specifically-your-dick, it'll be fine," Bucky says.
If that's meant to reassure Sam, it misses the mark. "I'm not even sure I can get it up, let alone come," Sam says. "This is not one of my many flavors of kink."
"You-- what?" Bucky asks.
"I'm not into fucking people who don't want to fuck," Sam says, his words dripping with are you fucking stupid, because Jesus, Bucky's thrown him some serious shade lately, but Sam figured Bucky knew him better than that.
"I'm not into it, either!" Bucky says. "You think I wanted to have to ask you about this? It doesn't help thinking that I'm-- I mean, fuck." Bucky winces and rubs his temples. "Shit. Hold on."
Sam watches while a tremor passes through Bucky, over and over, watches Bucky quake just a little for almost two full minutes. When it's over, Sam gets it a little more, why Bucky had to ask, and at least for the sake of saving him from more of that, he's relieved he said yes.
"Okay," Sam says quietly. "Tell me what I need to do."
"Well, bad news," Bucky says, "you do need to get hard, and you do need to come. You don't have to come in my mouth if you don't want to, but if you aren't gonna do that, it's going to have to be on my face."
"Oh, Jesus Christ, Buck--"
"I didn't make the fucking rules!" Bucky explodes. "Look, on the bright side, I'm really fucking good at this."
"You-- oh my God, that doesn't help at all."
"It's not because I spent a couple decades blowing my handlers," Bucky says, sounding weirdly offended. "I was already good at it before Hydra, and-- uh."
"'Uh'? What the hell is 'uh' referring to?"
"Well, let's just say I kept in the habit after I got out, okay? So I have recent experience."
Sam stares at him. "Okay."
"You said 'if I was into dick', and as it turns out, I am, so does that help?"
"A little," Sam admits, grudgingly.
"Okay." Bucky starts going down to his knees, and Sam grabs him by the arm to stop him before he can get there. "Oh my God, what now."
"Look, the fact that you apparently like giving head doesn't mean you want to put that skillset to work on me, right now. I'm still having a moment here."
Bucky groans. "This is my fault," he says, "God, I deserve this."
Sam's stomach clenches even harder. "You-- no. Buck-- no, it's not, Jesus, of course it's not your fault." He gets closer and puts his hands on Bucky's shoulders. "What Hydra did to you--"
"Not that," Bucky says. "After Steve came back. After he gave you the shield."
"What?" Sam asks; he is not following this conversation at all at this point.
"We spent a couple days at the Avengers compound, remember?"
Sam remembers. He couldn't face going back to Louisiana, or trying to figure out how to get his shit out of storage-- if it was even still there-- or trying to work out how to go through life without the constant steady presence of Steve, on your left, giving him a direction and a purpose, a home while he was on the run, his best friend who was now 178 years old and handing off his shield and going back to the happily-ever-after he'd gotten all by himself, leaving Sam and Bucky behind.
Bucky had been in a similar place. They'd spent a few days there, because nobody else was feeling that loss, not that way or that deep, and it meant a lot to have someone to trade Steve stories with. And to get angry with. And to feel guilty about getting angry with. It'd been a roller coaster of a few days.
"So if I'd blown you back then--"
"If you'd what?"
Now it's Bucky's turn to use an are you fucking stupid voice; he says, "If I'd unzipped your pants and put my mouth on your cock back at the Avengers compound--"
"That was an option back then?"
"And apparently I was an idiot for not doing it, so here we are," Bucky says, equal parts grump and sass.
Sam closes his eyes and prays for strength. "Okay. Look. If we'd been getting up to something, and this came up, I'd be-- fine with it isn't the right phrase, but at least I wouldn't feel like I was about to put my dick somewhere it wasn't wanted."
"Can we just pretend I did it in the first place, then? Because this isn't at all how I wanted it to go, but it's not like I didn't want to blow you."
Sam exhales, some of the tension coming out of him, but then Bucky adds, "Admittedly, I'm not exactly known for being picky when it comes to that, my Grindr history is kind of extensive--"
"You are the worst person in the world," Sam groans.
"Do you always argue this much when someone tries to blow you?"
"When they've got a metaphorical gun to their heads, yeah! Not that it's happened before, because thank God, my life isn't that fucking weird, but--"
Bucky starts shaking again. He bends over one of the stacks of boxes, leaning down for support, and he squeezes his eyes shut, shaking all over, at one point making a choking sound that gets Sam's hand on the back of Bucky's neck, looking at him, trying to see if he bit his tongue, if he's bleeding now. It doesn't seem like there's anything he can do, but he keeps his hand on the back of Bucky's neck and waits it out with him.
"Fuck," Bucky mutters.
Sam moves his hand down, rubbing hard between Bucky's shoulderblades. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I don't mean to be an asshole about this."
"I know," Bucky says. "I'm sorry, too. For not saying something earlier. I've been... dealing with some shit," he shrugs, "like you've seen."
"Yeah." Sam sighs. "This is really the only way to fix this?"
"Short of dropping everything and putting me on a plane to Wakanda, yes. And if we did that, they might have to put me in the freezer again. Might be months before they'd be ready to wake me up and test the programming fix." Bucky looks at Sam, desperation all over his face. "I don't want that."
That's... something Sam might be able to use to strongarm his conscience. An out. Maybe. "Enough that you'd ask me to do this for you instead of going straight for that option."
"Yeah."
"Okay."
Bucky gives him another look. "Is that a yes?"
"It's a yes."
"Thank God," Bucky says, and he spins Sam around, gets Sam pushed up against the boxes, and drops to the floor.
It's so unfair that Bucky didn't do this earlier. Sam really could've been into it at the Avengers compound; if Bucky had walked into his room in the middle of the night, if he'd said, hey, you know what, I'm lonely and I could really go for sucking your cock right now, Sam would've lost his damn mind. Also, probably begged to reciprocate.
Hell, if Bucky had answered one of his texts in the months afterward, if he'd brought it up somehow-- next time you're in NYC, come to Brooklyn, I'll blow you-- Sam would've dropped everything and gotten on a plane.
If he'd said it on the plane back from Munich, after they'd fought the Flag Smashers and told John Walker to go fuck himself, Sam would've grabbed Bucky by the hair and gone at him full-tilt.
If he'd done it any time for any reason other than this, Sam would be about to get one of his top ten fantasies from the last year or so. And Bucky likes sucking cock, and does, in fact, want to suck Sam's cock in particular.
Okay.
Bucky unbuckles Sam's belt and unzips his fly, and then drags Sam's pants and underwear down around his thighs. Sam was being honest, he's not hard yet, but Bucky doesn't bat an eyelash; he just reaches up and curls his warm hand around Sam's balls, opens his mouth, and draws in Sam's whole cock.
Sam's eyes widen, and he reaches down for Bucky's hair, managing at the last second to comb his fingers through it instead of grabbing it and shoving Bucky's nose into his pubes. A little bit of dignity would be good here, even if Bucky wasn't underselling himself when he said he was good at this. Sam's getting hard in Bucky's mouth-- in his mouth-- and as Sam gets harder, Bucky starts moving, drawing his mouth back, his lips tight around Sam's shaft, and then pushing forward again, tongue working hard at the underside.
"You win," Sam whispers, "you're right about how good you are."
Bucky reaches up to Sam's hips-- Sam's dick is all the way hard now, and still all the way in Bucky's mouth, fuck-- and starts encouraging Sam to thrust in, long and slow and so damn deep. Bucky gives head like a man who's never heard of a gag reflex, and he strokes Sam's balls, rubs a finger at the spot behind them, rolls them in his hand.
"Fuck," Sam groans. "Okay, yes, yes, you are that fucking good, are you happy now?"
Bucky pulls off, his hand moving to steady Sam's shaft, and says, "Actually, yeah," and then gets back to work.
Yeah? Yeah? Bucky's having to give a blowjob because of programming, and Sam asks him if he's happy and Bucky says actually, yeah?
He is a gigantic asshole.
Also, the hottest person Sam's ever been with, and this is so good there's no question Sam's going to be able to come from it. Fuck. Bucky may be the worst person in the world, but Sam's stuck in that handbasket with him, both of them headed directly for hell.
Sam reaches down and runs his fingers through Bucky's hair. Bucky looks up at him and gives a nod that Sam can feel all the way through his dick, and that's permission, right? That's consent? Assuming anything in the middle of something like this counts as consenting to anything?
Fuck it. Sam grabs hold of Bucky's hair and starts moving his head, fucking steadily in and out of Bucky's mouth and letting himself enjoy it.
Bucky makes a sound, but before Sam can stop and ask what the hell it meant, Bucky's got both hands down at-- at his own belt, he's reaching into his pants and getting his cock out, he is jerking off while Sam fucks his mouth. Sam sucks in a breath through his teeth. That definitely helps; that helps a lot, watching Bucky work his cock hard and fast and utterly goddamn ruthless, like he needs to get off and needs to do it fast in order to come when Sam does.
And he's not wrong about Sam's pace, either. Sam bites down on his lip and pushes hard into the back of Bucky's throat, and Bucky just takes it, easy, effortless, just like he was doing before Sam started directing the action. Sam groans out loud and says, "Almost there, Buck, you ready?"
Bucky nods again-- once again, Sam can feel that on his dick, and it makes him want to come up on his toes, push into Bucky's throat as much as he can. Bucky's hand is almost a blur on his cock now, and he's making little grunting sounds, like he's getting close, too.
"How do you want me to-- do this," Sam gasps, and Bucky draws off, one hand working his own cock, vibranium hand coming up to jerk Sam off. "Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck--"
Sam comes, painting Bucky's face with it, with Bucky's hand aiming him and touching him and ensuring Sam is never going to look at vibranium the same way ever again. He wants to suck on Bucky's fingers, wants Bucky's fingers up his ass, wants Bucky to break him open with his whole goddamn hand, now.
Instead, Bucky drops his hand so he can catch his own come instead of letting it get all over Sam's ankles and shoes. Thoughtful, Sam decides, collapsing against the boxes as he watches Bucky come, just plain thoughtful of the man.
Bucky's shoulders drop when it's over, and he tilts his head back, closing his eyes. He looks so obscene Sam wants to wipe the come off his cheek with his thumb, then make Bucky suck on his thumb until Sam can get it up again.
Fucking Hydra. If they were going to get a first time, this isn't what Sam wanted it to be, and it's completely fucking unfair.
But Bucky opens his eyes again and digs a stray handkerchief out of his pocket, and he wipes his hand off, first, then his face. "All clear," he says. "I'm good."
"Uh-huh," Sam says, winded. "Good... glad... good," he manages.
Bucky stands up. Sam's expecting to get smirked at, but instead Bucky says, "Thanks," and leans in close, mouth brushing up against Sam's.
All clear, I'm good. This isn't Hydra.
Sam grabs Bucky around the waist and pulls him in close, kissing back, just about eating the man alive. Bucky makes a startled sound, and it does not escape Sam's notice that neither one of them has bothered to put their dicks away, and Bucky's hard-on hasn't gone anywhere, but Bucky melts into the kiss and gives as good as he's getting, kissing Sam like he's been waiting for it as long as Sam has.
"Now that," Sam says, in between kisses, "that's a first kiss."
"You say that like--" Bucky starts, gets distracted tracing Sam's lower lip with his tongue, "like there's going to be more."
"I'm in if you are," Sam says. He reaches down and gets his hand around Bucky's cock. Bucky rocks his hips, pushes into Sam's grip. "Feels like you are."
"When we have more than five minutes in a closet, I'm showing you what I can do with your cock and my mouth," Bucky says. "It can get so much better than this."
Sam kisses Bucky again, showing off his mouth skills; he doesn't have what he'd call extensive Grindr experience, but he knows damn well he can kiss. "Can't wait."
There's a loud banging on the door, and Sharon's voice calling from outside: "If you two are finished fucking in the closet, I've got him."
"Are we finished?" Bucky asks. "It doesn't feel like we're finished."
Sam gently pushes him away so they can both get their clothes back on. "We're finished fucking in the closet," he says.
"Okay, that I'll give you." When they're both more or less decent, Bucky reaches out for Sam's arm. "Hey. If something happens and I have to... be him. Again."
"I'll take out anybody in between us and make sure I'm the first one who touches you after the fighting's over," Sam promises.
"Thank you," Bucky says. There's no hint of any sarcasm or amusement in him, not for this. Sam squeezes Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky nods at him.
Bucky pushes the boxes away from the door, and Sharon opens it, Zemo right behind her. She looks from one of them to the other; Zemo does the same, one eyebrow raised. "Can't fault either one of you for taste," she says. "Come on."
"I can't, either," Zemo says.
"Shut up," Bucky tells him.
"Nobody asked you," Sam says, at the same time.
Zemo gives a light shrug, and the four of them head off. The Winter Soldier's mission might be complete, but Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson have unfinished business in Madripoor.