Steve's Diary

December 27, 1936

Dear Diary,

Christmas came and went this year; it was just like any other day. Wake up, have breakfast, sit around... we didn't even exchange presents this year. We decided on that together. Why? I couldn't tell you.

Now, if I'm being completely honest, I miss that spark I felt before there was anything established between us. I need that feeling that messes me up when I look at him or when his hand brushes on mine.

With mom gone, I haven't had much time to focus on me. On us.

It's not that it's not there... it's that I don't even have time to see it. I'm too busy sulking in my own misery that there's no time for me to be with him. I barely do anything with him anymore, anyway.

That's all about to change because I'm ready to move on, per se. Not forget about her, never... but move on from the grief, remembering all she was to me and continuing on with my life. She meant to much... I know this is what she would have wanted.

She would have wanted me to live my life, and that just what I plan on doing.

—————

The heat from the fire in the fireplace was so warm against my body... the closest thing I've felt to heat on my body in a while. The reddish glow seemed to glisten in my eyes and cast an orange aura on my light blonde hair, making it appear almost ginger.

I was drawing the fireplace in my sketchbook while sitting on the floor by the foot of the sofa, my legs bent at the knees and my feet extending towards the flame. Bucky was seated above me on the couch itself, his legs crossed and his fingers running through my hair.

I closed my eyes and stopped drawing for a moment, throwing my worries to the wind and letting those tingles take over my body.

"Buck... I'm tryna draw," I whispered. He ignored me.

His fingers trailed down my neck, too, as well as through my hair. I let my mouth open slightly as I let out a quiet little moan that I was sure he couldn't hear. Shivers traveled through my veins and down my spine as he kept on teasing me. I hummed again at the feeling, and this time he definitely heard me.

His fingers drifted to my jaw and down the front of my neck to the top of my button up shirt.

I tried to continue with my drawing but he took my hand in his and pulled my hair back so my head was in his lap. Before I could say anything his wet lips were on mine and I was gone.

The pencil fell from my hand and I pulled down on the back of his head and deepened our kiss. His one hand smoothed it's way down my chest as the other began undoing my tie and buttons.

I placed my sketchbook on the floor and spun around, pulling away for a moment and standing up. He looked me up and down and I felt a twitch in my... lower regions. What the hell... how am I already getting hard?

I walk over and straddle him on the couch, trying to get as close as humanely possible. He smiled but I didn't smile back... this was so out of nowhere that I couldn't even get to the point of smiling. I just kissed him.

His tongue delved into my mouth so effortlessly, I could tell where this was headed.

He tried to push me off him so he could get on top of me but I wasn't having it... We fought for dominance and I ended up on top of him as he laid below me. He pushed his thigh between my legs and I moaned loudly and rather unexpectedly into his mouth. I rutted against his leg, seemingly unable to control myself and he, in turn, hummed into my mouth.

He pulled off my suspenders and yanked my shirt out of my slacks, throwing them both to the floor.

My movements had a feeling of slow, sensuality but also a sort of urgent need. Fast then slow, back and forth, over and over and over.

"I-..." I struggled to get words out with all the groaning. I went back to kissing him seeing how I very clearly couldn't trust my voice right now.

I felt him smile on my lips and keep going. I settled on his lap, straddling him when he began to move his hips up and down just to get a reaction out of me.

It worked.

It seemed that we were both a mess... breathing heavy, temperature rising, occasional moaning and, well, I was practically straining against my pants.

Then he stopped and I stopped and the kissing ceased. We just looked at each other.

"Steve..." he whispered, breathing in and out heavily. "We... next time... promise."

"Okay... okay... next time," I agreed getting up and sitting next to him.

Then, there was a moment of silence.

"Penny for your thoughts...?" Bucky said, looking at me.

"I don't know... a lot of stuff is whirling around up there," I admitted. My mom, him, Christmas, him, my fire drawing, him, that guy who yelled at me on the street, him... this fucking boner that I can't seem to get rid of for the life of me. "I guess... that guy on the street."

"Don't waste your thoughts on him, he's useless, Steve. He's a big bully who's just insecure about himself," he explained.

"But... he was right," I mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the whole gay thing... ugh, I don't know."

"Steve, I don't care if he was right. We are what we are and there's no changing that... all we can do is stay true to ourselves," he paused. "Hell, we'll give him someone to call a faggot," he said, leaning over and kissing me ferociously.

I pulled away after a long while, "thanks, Buck."

He smiled. "Anytime, punk... don't worry, okay? There ain't no point because it's gonna be me and you 'til the very end."

—————

He always seems to find a way to make me feel better. I don't know how... but he does.

And he made me a promise... he better keep his end of it up because he's gonna catch some hands if he doesn't... kidding.

Not really.

~ Steve Rogers