Prompt Post 1

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At least one of the characters in your prompt must have been in Captain America: The First Avenger or Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

As of May 3, 2014, the spoiler policy is no longer in effect.

Update, April 22, 2014:
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Fill: I'm Yours to the End of the Line (6/?) Warning: BDSM

[(Anonymous)]

So, this part has a mild scene in it, which involves hitting with a belt, and I just want to say that I am not involved in the lifestyle and apologize for any inaccuracies.

Bucky’s not sure how exactly Steve gets them a private tent, but he does. He puts Bucky back on his knees and feeds him, gives him food and water.

“What do you need?” Steve asks him softly, petting.

“I don’t-” Bucky starts to say, chokes up and can’t finish, but Steve is already soothing him.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. I’ve got you. They made you hurt, didn’t they?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then I know just what you need,” Steve tells him. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Bucky strips down, and Steve picks up his belt from where he’s coiled it neatly on the top of his clothes. Bucky knows this, knows how to do this, so he goes to his knees and braces himself with his hands against the footlocker, leaving his back bare for Steve to mark. For all the pain he’s in, Bucky doesn’t have any bruises. This is something Steve can give him, is giving him.

“Don’t come,” Steve tells him, and the order is like a sip of water in the desert. Bucky breathes.

Steve lays down twelve strokes, and they’re hard, harder than Steve used to be able to hit him. Each impact sends a wide flare of fire radiating outwards, pushing back the pain that isn’t Steve’s, and cleansing him. Bucky starts to cry at stroke number nine, his whole focus on the stripes of aching flesh across his back and thighs and the sharp arousal in his groin, for the first time in over a year. The ache in his bones and the sharp sting of needle pricks, the echoing of accented English saying ‘aren’t you just perfect’, all of it fades away.

After twelve strokes, Sir sits him back and comes around Bucky’s front. Bucky sways forward without thought, and Sir stabilizes him.

“Please,” Bucky says, catching himself. He has to ask permission. “Please, Sir, let me?”

“Yes,” Sir says. Bucky undoes the buttons on his pants, and then has to pull down the blue tights underneath, but then he’s there, easing Sir into his mouth, his hands alternatively stroking and gripping Bucky’s hair as he works for his Dom. The quiet groan he gets as Sir releases fills Bucky with pride, and he’s careful to swallow everything down.

“Come here,” Sir says quietly, and takes Bucky’s elbow to lead him onto the cot, where there is barely enough room for Sir by himself let alone both of them. Sir lies down and pulls Bucky on top of him, covers them both and spends more time soothing him, stroking a hand up and down Bucky’s back. Its right over the bruises Bucky can feel coming up on his skin, and he settles.

“Sleep,” Sir tells him, and for the first time in days, Bucky does.

In a bar in London, back off the line and getting the recuperation and briefings a POW should, Bucky flexes his shoulders against the fading ache of Steve’s bruises. The other pain has mostly gone, though it lingers occasionally, deep in Bucky’s muscles when he doesn’t get enough sleep. Steve asks him to join Captain America, makes sure he knows it’s optional and nothing is contingent on his answer. Bucky loves him for it, but can’t figure out how to say what he means.

“I’ll join, but I’m not following Captain America,” Bucky tells him after a moment. “I’m following that little Dom from Brooklyn who never once thought it was an insult when stupid idiots called him a fairy. But you’re keeping the outfit, right?”

Steve’s smile is brilliant. “Will you marry me?” He asks, and then looks mortified he’s said it.

Bucky knows Steve, so he laughs and laughs, and when Steve’s friend Agent Carter walks up to them and asks what’s so funny, Bucky says, “We’re getting married.”

“We are?” Steve asks, face a little red. Bucky kisses him, right there in front of everyone.

“You’re the one who proposed, you punk.”

“But I didn’t do it right! I don’t have a ring, and I didn’t get down on my knee-” This time, Agent Carter laughs with him. “Aw, Peggy, don’t encourage him.”

“There’s a war on, Steve, I think you’re forgiven for not having all the trappings in place.”

“So we’re getting married?” Steve asks him, starting to smile, and it shows down into his shoulders in a way that it didn’t when he was smaller.

“Yes,” Bucky tells him, enthusiastic. “Yes.”