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Who: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
When: When Bucky is recruited
What: Giant werewolf is brow-beat by a fiesty little human best friend to bite on the full moon so that Steve can also join the war effort.
Warnings: TBA
[When he had been a puppy, he had been found cold, wet and abandoned by a pack on the run. The rain had been heavy the last few days, and he soft whining had attracted nothing in the way of help. Close to the orphanage and in a time when so many children were being left under government care, he had been found by a small blond boy. Inside that thread-bear jacket, against ribs that protruded too much and with a wheeze to he breath that was not his own, he had been made to feel welcome, to give up the crying whines of a pup and settle close to the new source of warmth.
Wolves of their specific kind learned to change early, usually be some mistake. He had learned with a particularly fierce sneeze, shifting from wolf pup to boy. He had no been rejected and instead had been taken to the orphanage where he learned to suppress some of his wolfish urges and take on the human ones. It was necessary for survival, but also it allowed him to be close to his best friend who needed constant minding or would be neck-deep in trouble at all hours of the day.
Steve Rogers was a fierce creature, all biting wit, knobby elbows and a cough that could bowl the other boy over. Years didn't put much in the way of weight or height on Steve, but that burning life could not be snuffed out despite many close calls. When Steve was confined to be alone, he had made certain to sneak into the room, pad over on four paws - immune to human disease - and settle in to keep his best friend warm. It was the wolf instinct, he supposed, as he needed to protect pack. Steve was as close as he thought to come.
There weren't many wolves in the big city, but their paths beyond it were clear. Once a month on the full moon, he was required to change and his dark coat gave him certain privileges when skirting the city streets and keen eyed strangers. A big dog they would say, and that was fine until he hit puberty and then big dog turned into a massive animal, long sleek black fur around his neck and the middle of his back. Always once a month he would run, and if Steve was well enough (and usually when the blond wasn't), he would take them from the city so that Steve could cling to his back as he loped through the lands beyond the press of the city. They had freedom there, a way to watch the stars, to hunt down rabbits in the bushes, to be nothing more or less than pack.
The years had been good to them. He learned to be a wolf. Steve learned to fight the limitations of body and society. It was good years filled with fighting in the streets, fighting in alleys and behind diners. Steve almost always started those fights, but he would never allow his friend to fight alone regardless of the odds.
The war came, and Steve wanted to join and it was the first fissure of their relationship. What was a human war to someone like him, one where the bullets of men couldn't hurt him, the political leans of people far beyond their station dictated who they would send overseas. It was the first time he had a distinct lack of interest in human affairs, but Steve was gamely and set on joining, on proving that all men had a right to serve. He couldn't help it; he was inspired. Steve always managed that in him.
He'd taught his best friend and human packmate how to punch, to box specifically. Teeth and claw were not fit for the trials of war, and Steve had none of those weapons. So they fought for a week, and while he said nothing of what the outcome would be, he followed Steve into the recruitment station. He, fit and able-bodied, James "Bucky" Barnes was taken for human war while Steve Rogers was rejected. It was survival of the fittest out there, and he expected to simply become a wolf and walk away from it all. Why should he fight when Steve was the one who had to go, to prove something to everyone and do right by the blond's own sense of justice?
Bucky hadn't thought about it much, thought about how he was much too big to be lounging on the narrow bed that Steve owned, how it creaked under his weight. He was on his back, all four paws in the air and rubbing his back on the blankets and listening to the springs protest with a simple sense of joy about it. His mouth hung open, tongue lapping at his lips as he wiggled and flicked his big tail. The bed was not made for him; he slept on the floor and Steve generally on top of him for warmth and comfort, but it was fun to mess the sheets.
The full moon was a few hours away, the dusk just coming about. He had no particular reason to be a wolf, but there was a simple pleasure in it within the confine space of Steve's apartment. Despite the rejection and their previous 'arguments' about him considering refusing to show up for base training, he had managed to badger Steve into agreeing to go for a long run beyond New York. It was easier to do with so many people focused on the war.
He growled playfully as he bit the pillow nearby and shook it as if killing a rabbit. His paws kicked in the air and he finally rolled off the bed, shaking out his massive body and settling the long hair around the back of his neck and down his spine. He yawned, wagging his tail and peered at the blond who was far too quiet and concentrating seriously. That usually meant trouble.
When did Steve Rogers NOT mean trouble?]
Hey pal, you've been awful quiet tonight. It's full moon! We always love the full moon, all that running! I plan on getting a fat coney tonight! Maybe it will put some meat on those ribs of yours.
[It literally took him two massive steps to come up behind Steve and rest his massive head on the back of the blond.]
Come on, cheer up! Rabbit stew!
When: When Bucky is recruited
What: Giant werewolf is brow-beat by a fiesty little human best friend to bite on the full moon so that Steve can also join the war effort.
Warnings: TBA
[When he had been a puppy, he had been found cold, wet and abandoned by a pack on the run. The rain had been heavy the last few days, and he soft whining had attracted nothing in the way of help. Close to the orphanage and in a time when so many children were being left under government care, he had been found by a small blond boy. Inside that thread-bear jacket, against ribs that protruded too much and with a wheeze to he breath that was not his own, he had been made to feel welcome, to give up the crying whines of a pup and settle close to the new source of warmth.
Wolves of their specific kind learned to change early, usually be some mistake. He had learned with a particularly fierce sneeze, shifting from wolf pup to boy. He had no been rejected and instead had been taken to the orphanage where he learned to suppress some of his wolfish urges and take on the human ones. It was necessary for survival, but also it allowed him to be close to his best friend who needed constant minding or would be neck-deep in trouble at all hours of the day.
Steve Rogers was a fierce creature, all biting wit, knobby elbows and a cough that could bowl the other boy over. Years didn't put much in the way of weight or height on Steve, but that burning life could not be snuffed out despite many close calls. When Steve was confined to be alone, he had made certain to sneak into the room, pad over on four paws - immune to human disease - and settle in to keep his best friend warm. It was the wolf instinct, he supposed, as he needed to protect pack. Steve was as close as he thought to come.
There weren't many wolves in the big city, but their paths beyond it were clear. Once a month on the full moon, he was required to change and his dark coat gave him certain privileges when skirting the city streets and keen eyed strangers. A big dog they would say, and that was fine until he hit puberty and then big dog turned into a massive animal, long sleek black fur around his neck and the middle of his back. Always once a month he would run, and if Steve was well enough (and usually when the blond wasn't), he would take them from the city so that Steve could cling to his back as he loped through the lands beyond the press of the city. They had freedom there, a way to watch the stars, to hunt down rabbits in the bushes, to be nothing more or less than pack.
The years had been good to them. He learned to be a wolf. Steve learned to fight the limitations of body and society. It was good years filled with fighting in the streets, fighting in alleys and behind diners. Steve almost always started those fights, but he would never allow his friend to fight alone regardless of the odds.
The war came, and Steve wanted to join and it was the first fissure of their relationship. What was a human war to someone like him, one where the bullets of men couldn't hurt him, the political leans of people far beyond their station dictated who they would send overseas. It was the first time he had a distinct lack of interest in human affairs, but Steve was gamely and set on joining, on proving that all men had a right to serve. He couldn't help it; he was inspired. Steve always managed that in him.
He'd taught his best friend and human packmate how to punch, to box specifically. Teeth and claw were not fit for the trials of war, and Steve had none of those weapons. So they fought for a week, and while he said nothing of what the outcome would be, he followed Steve into the recruitment station. He, fit and able-bodied, James "Bucky" Barnes was taken for human war while Steve Rogers was rejected. It was survival of the fittest out there, and he expected to simply become a wolf and walk away from it all. Why should he fight when Steve was the one who had to go, to prove something to everyone and do right by the blond's own sense of justice?
Bucky hadn't thought about it much, thought about how he was much too big to be lounging on the narrow bed that Steve owned, how it creaked under his weight. He was on his back, all four paws in the air and rubbing his back on the blankets and listening to the springs protest with a simple sense of joy about it. His mouth hung open, tongue lapping at his lips as he wiggled and flicked his big tail. The bed was not made for him; he slept on the floor and Steve generally on top of him for warmth and comfort, but it was fun to mess the sheets.
The full moon was a few hours away, the dusk just coming about. He had no particular reason to be a wolf, but there was a simple pleasure in it within the confine space of Steve's apartment. Despite the rejection and their previous 'arguments' about him considering refusing to show up for base training, he had managed to badger Steve into agreeing to go for a long run beyond New York. It was easier to do with so many people focused on the war.
He growled playfully as he bit the pillow nearby and shook it as if killing a rabbit. His paws kicked in the air and he finally rolled off the bed, shaking out his massive body and settling the long hair around the back of his neck and down his spine. He yawned, wagging his tail and peered at the blond who was far too quiet and concentrating seriously. That usually meant trouble.
When did Steve Rogers NOT mean trouble?]
Hey pal, you've been awful quiet tonight. It's full moon! We always love the full moon, all that running! I plan on getting a fat coney tonight! Maybe it will put some meat on those ribs of yours.
[It literally took him two massive steps to come up behind Steve and rest his massive head on the back of the blond.]
Come on, cheer up! Rabbit stew!
no subject
He might have sat back to see if Steve actually would make a show of it, but there was no time to consider his escape from the slide of the blond's body because Steve was rolling them. The standard issue cot didn't make noise, but it was not particularly big enough to accommodate two horny wolves as much as Bucky would have liked it to. The fact that he ended up flat on his back and so close to the metal foot board was bothersome only in that he would have to roll them the exact same way they had come in order to turn the tables again.
God but why would he want to? He felt Steve's slick against his thighs, the heat of that body pressing down on him. The look of his omega was enough to cause a fresh wash of saliva into his mouth. His body rolled under Steve's, easily lifting that weight that was pressed down on his hips, and he slid his palms up Steve's thighs until he could grip those slim hips, pressing his thumbs into them so that he would leave behind bruised imprints. A mark of claim all its own. His erection ached, and it took him a few moments to gather enough of his brain back together to actually form words and not just roll them both right off the bed to land on the floor where he would definitely have his way with Steve.]
Christ, Stevie... you're killin' me! [He tried to sit up so that he could slide one of his hands around to press two fingers into Steve's slick hole, testing the blond's resolve among other things.]
no subject
He rocked back once Bucky shifted to push up so he was sitting, adjusting his weight to allow for it since closer in any regard was better. ]
That makes two of us.
[His voice was threaded with the last groan pulled from the press and bruise of Bucky setting marks into his thighs. They pleased him as much as having his best friend's hands on over-warm skin and the firm insistence of his body under him. To keep his balance Steve slapped his hands on Bucky's shoulders, thumbs brushing over the column his neck. He couldn't exactly say that his resolve broke with the slide of Bucky's fingers inside of him but something gave way inside of him, making him moan out again, slicking further at the breach as if to welcome it. His own touch wasn't half as good as Bucky's, which he was already rocking down into. And if it was this good just with his fingers, his cock had to be five times more.]
C'mon. [Panted. Whining wordlessly he opened his eyes and ground down, feeling the pitch of his heat rise. He reached down between them and gripped the now-slippery length of Bucky's cock, pressing it possessively against his own. If not for Bucky's fingers already in him he would have tried to put it in him already instead of just looking at how flushed and hard they both were while his body clenched in wanting that exact thickness.] Please, Buck. Alpha. I'll give you a whole show after this. Whatever you want. I only-- I can't wait anymore.
no subject
His fingers wormed as deep as they could go given the angle and being fingers, but he could feel the tension in Steve's body in response, could feel the stretch of those muscles around him and he knew that it would feel a hundred times better to be splitting open his omega on his cock. It was an issue of claim that he couldn't think of doing with anyone else, nor would he want to. Steve was his, would be his, and he didn't share.
And he was panting out a rough laugh at Steve's pleas. God that was like music to his ears right now! He growled and whined in return, hitching his hips beneath Steve and again was feeling the press to just roll them right off the bed and do the dirty on the floor like the desperate wolves that they were.
Instead, he thrust his fingers once, twice, three times more up his omega's slick ass and then pulled them free. He reached down to take himself from Steve's grip, encouraging with his other hand so that the blond rose just enough that he could rearrange himself to have a better angle to guide himself up to nudge his way inside of Steve's hole. He had to give a little hard thrust to force the head in, but by then, his grip on the blond was unyielding. They were doing this and nothing and no one would break them apart.]
Come on... ease down on me. Little-by-little. Let me watch you split yourself on me, Stevie!
no subject
That proved to be the hardest part but it didn't make sinking down onto the rest of Bucky a quick process. He lowered in a slow eternity of increments and stretching, sharply possessive of each additional measure he took in and in until he was bottoming out onto Bucky's lap with a low keen. Split and with that show over it he found the freedom to curl forward, wrapping his arms around the breadth of Bucky's form with his fingers digging into his back, his mouth coming to his alpha's neck without thinking.
Rocking slow, he panted while nestling into the intimate nook of Bucky's neck where his scent ran hot, thick and blood-warm from the beating of his pulse which echoed loud in Steve's ears. The sharpness that kept itching his mouth found purposes as his sucking kisses worried past bruising Bucky's skin. He was full, but he wanted more. Steve sank his teeth into the meat just above Bucky's collarbones of his right shoulder, piercing the skin with iron and warmth coating his tongue a second later. The taste of it making him whine higher and clutch Bucky close to crushing if he'd been a normal man. He ground down, hanging on to satisfy what old and whispering wordlessly in the back of his mind. What crooned that was exactly the way to honor a proper mate.]
no subject
However, in being wrapped up in those massive strong arm, Bucky found himself leaning his chest against the omega's one, his hands sliding around so that he could stroke up Steve's back and then rack his nails down with only the intention of leaving livid red marks of claim. His head tilted back to expose his neck, to show off the swelling glands in the crook of his neck. His hands continued to both support and encourage Steve, and he was lost in the heat and slick of that body. Everything was perfect. They were locked together, Steve settled easily in his lap, and there was no need to worry, but he did enjoy the sucking kisses and biting, none of which he minded in the least. If anything, he rumbled his pleasure.
His hips bucked up, testing Steve's resolve to remain stationary. He began to roll and force his hips upwards, bounding Steve in his lap and letting out lewd growling moans at the sensations as his hands smoothed up and down his mate's back. Pleasure drove him, the slick feel of Steve riding his cock, and he was no easier on himself as he was on his new mate either. He altered the angle of his hips to drive up against the blond's prostate, needing to hear Steve's cries reach his ears, needing those teeth biting at him, wanting those massive arms to threaten crushing him.
He did not entertain the idea of turning them over, not willing to take the 'dominant' position. God he loved Steve riding him like this, driving him and demanding. It was the hottest thing he had ever experienced, and he would continue to languish in how big and demanding Steve was.]