Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/27853.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Marvel_616, Invaders, Captain_America
  Relationship:
      Bucky_Barnes/Toro_Raymond
  Character:
      Bucky_Barnes, Toro_Raymond
  Additional Tags:
      16+, kink_bingo, boot_fetish, Golden_Age, WWII, The_Invaders, Community:
      kink_bingo
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-12-10 Words: 2360
****** Bright All Right ******
by gloss
Summary
     "Hell, if I had powers and a snazzy costume, I'd admire myself, too."
Notes
     Title from "My_Man/Mon_Homme" (Willemetz, Pollock, Charles & Yvain).
     For
     [[community profile] ]
kink_bingo. G. looked this over for me.
See the end of the work for more notes
The Invaders had been stuck in England for days and days. Toro was just about
ready to set something on fire, just to have something to do.
No, that was a joke. He was too bored to do anything.
He lay on his back on his bed, legs in the air, turning them to and fro.
Toro had better gams than just about any woman. That wasn't just his opinion;
Bucky had said so once, and, after getting Bucky's elbow in his ribs, Cap
coughed and agreed. He went a little red and didn't look right at Toro, but he
did agree.
They were nice legs, long and leanly muscled, the skin as soft as parachute
silk. Must have been the flames the kept him so smooth; Bucky was hardly hairy,
but his skin felt fuzzy next to Toro's, sometimes like it was snagging.
Toro's boots rose all the way to his knees and clung as snug as lady's hose.
"Enjoying the view?" Bucky asked from the doorway. How long had he been there?
Dropping his feet to the bed so hard that they bounced, Toro rolled over to
face the wall. "Shut up."
"What were you doing?" The bed dipped as Bucky sat on the edge and poked Toro's
back.
"Nothing."
"Admiring yourself, huh?"
"No!" Bucky was pulling on his arm and, finally, Toro rolled back over. "No, I
was just --"
"Hell, I'd look at myself, too," Bucky said. He wore his costume trousers and a
clean white undershirt. It was a little too small after his last growth spurt,
tight around his chest. "If I had powers and a snazzy costume, I wouldn't do
anything else."
Toro tried to smile. Should he apologize for having powers? That would just
annoy Bucky, he knew from experience.
"Hey!" Bucky bounced as he turned, clapping Toro's knee and shaking. "I know!"
"What?" Toro tensed a little; he'd been taken in more times than he could count
by Bucky's schemes. And Bucky was scheming, there was no doubt about that. He
squinted a little and smiled too broadly, insincerely, as his voice went
slightly higher, wheedling.
"Let me try your boots on?"
"No." Toro crossed both his arms and his legs. "No way."
"C'mon," Bucky whined. "Be a pal, Toro, c'mon --"
"No." Toro sniffed and tried to keep his voice firm. "You'll stretch them out."
"Will not."
"Will, too. They won't fit you."
Bucky snorted and shoved Toro. "How do you know?"
"Because --" Toro looked away and took a breath. "Because."
Three months ago, Cap and Bucky got stuck behind Fahrmbacher's fortifications
in Quiberon Bay; they missed the scheduled pick-up, then the second, before
their radio link disappeared. Toro found Bucky's spare costume in the wardrobe
and pulled it on. He tried to pretend that he was closer to Bucky this way,
that the fabric was Bucky, heavy and itchy and fragrant. He couldn't fool
himself for very long. He hauled around a ghost, he tempted fate, he couldn't
do that. Half of war, it seemed, was superstition, avoiding black cats and
cracks and preemptive mourning. You never prepared for death; you didn't make
it easy.
He did find Bucky's parade boots in the back of the closet. Army issue, black
leather that was more cracks and wrinkles than leather, the footbed a
topography of Bucky's monkey-long toes, high arches and callused heels. Toro's
feet swam in them; he wrapped the laces three times around his ankle to keep
them on.
In Quiberon, Bucky rigged up a new radio and stole the Krauts' frequency to
broadcast the distress call. He and Cap were home in London by dinner.
Toro didn't risk trying Bucky's stuff on after that, no matter how much he
missed him, how lonely he got.
Bucky shoved him again. "C'mon."
"No. Too small for you." Toro kicked Bucky's ankle. "Your feet're too big."
Grinning, Bucky squared his shoulders. "You know what they say about that."
Toro blinked. "No. What?"
"You're kidding."
"No." Toro snapped out a strand of fire between his palms and twisted it,
hiding the flush on his face. "Sorry."
Bucky slid his arm around Toro's shoulders and shook him by the neck. "Big feet
means big John Henry. Scientific fact."
"Really?" Toro asked and grinned, poking Bucky's thigh. "Because --"
"Hey, you think I'm not big?"
"No, I mean --"
Bucky cocked his eyebrow as he swung his leg over Toro's lap, straddling him
for a moment before sliding down to the floor. He grasped Toro's ankle and ran
his hand up the inside of his leg, over the boot, past the knee and over his
thigh, then back down.
Toro forgot to be embarrassed, let alone annoyed. His penis thickened and
twitched, getting harder, as his breath went shallow.
Bucky's hand rose again, came to the top of the boot, and skated down. Toro
shivered. His boots were a second skin, finer and stronger than his own. "Buck
--"
"Mm?" Bucky had his serious face on, beetled brows, the tip of his tongue
peeking out from the corner of his mouth, as he tilted his head. On his knees,
he shuffled forward, pushing in between Toro's legs. One hand on each foot, he
squeezed and then just held still.
Bucky's eyes were dark and narrow.
He was studying Toro. Same as he scouted perimeters or sighted targets or dealt
out hands of cards: When Bucky looked at you like that, you'd best take care.
Toro rarely felt cold, but he shivered again now, trapped behind a shimmer of
heat, arrested by Bucky's gaze. He pointed his toes and Bucky squeezed harder,
longer, before exhaling as he ran his palms up Toro's shins.
His erection was getting ever more insistent, shuddering with each touch of
Bucky's fingers. Bucky spread Toro's legs even wider, pulling him closer to the
edge of the bed, so Toro had no way to hide it.
Bucky was rarely this quiet for this long, not when they weren't in the field.
"Are you --?" Toro licked his lips with a sticky tongue and tried again. "Are
you all right?"
Bucky's smile flashed, sharp and quick. Toro held his breath in case Bucky was
angry, in case he'd said something wrong.
Bucky clasped Toro's calves and yanked him closer; the motion pushed the air
out of Toro's lungs. He rocked his knuckles across Toro's shinbones.
"I'm good," Bucky said, and Toro was about to reply, just as soon as he got his
breath back, but Bucky straightened up and leaned in, pressing against Toro's
shins. With that weight and pressure, Toro didn't think he could say anything.
"They're -- you're really soft," Bucky said, palms swooping up and down Toro's
legs, and his voice sounded small, wondering. He talked like this was the first
time he'd ever touched Toro, ever noticed him.
"I guess?" Helplessly, Toro's hips jerked up. "Buck, I'm --"
He squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure tightened inside his trunks.
Bucky's hands went still. "Say it."
Toro shook his head and sucked his lower lip between his teeth. "I want --"
He couldn't get it out.
Bucky laughed and leaned away. The cold air stung Toro's skin. "You know what I
want?"
Toro didn't. His erection burned and his boots felt too tight for the first
time ever.
Bucky pushed two fingers under the snug top of Toro's left boot. They scraped
back and forth; Toro cried out. Bucky moved his fingers faster, in and out,
until Toro gasped and twisted, trying to get closer. With his free hand, Bucky
grabbed Toro's right ankle and lifted his leg until it met Bucky's mouth. His
tongue lapped at the border between skin and boot, his breath blew like
thunder.
Toro's pulse banged against his skin, his heart dropped and lodged beneath his
kneecap. Bucky's mouth sucked sharply, so sharply it was like Bucky was sucking
his testicles, not his boot. It was all the same. Every pore was in the same
place, burning against Bucky's tongue, asking for more.
Toro pulled at Bucky's hair with one hand and stuffed the other fist into his
mouth. Lucky thing he did, as Bucky dropped his right leg and started licking
the left.
He had no idea how long this went on. Bucky nibbled and sucked, on boot and
skin alike, both the bony shin and tender back of his knee, while fucking his
fingers into the top of the other.
Toro shone with sweat. Stoppered moans scraped his throat.
When Bucky took hold of both his legs and smacked them together, Toro fell
forward, clumsy as a sailor's duffel, sack of potatoes,
The strain on his erection drove tears to his eyes. Bucky chuckled, high and
sort of cracked-sounding, as he pushed against Toro's shins. He thrust a few
times, the rough worsted of his trousers rasping against Toro's boots.
"I'm gonna fuck your boots --" Bucky's voice was rougher than the fabric.
Toro blinked open his eyes, saw Bucky's face red as his gloves, sweaty, his
eyes moving restlessly.
"I don't --" Toro tried to swallow, tried to think. "Wasn't that --"
Wasn't that what he had been doing?
Bucky tugged his flies unbuttoned and spat on his hand. Toro dug his elbow into
the mattress and craned up for a look. He couldn't ever get enough of watching
Bucky's hand move on his dick. Bucky's eyes were faraway.
"Just hold still --" Wincing, Bucky let go of his dick and pushed Toro's knees
together. "Hold it. Hold it like --"
Bucky clambered up, hands on Toro's shoulders, and kissed him. Wet with spit
and sweat, his lips and chin tasted like Toro himself. Carbon, leather, ozone.
He bit Toro's chin and pulled back.
Toro's hands lit on Bucky's shoulders, his hair, his arms. He kept his legs as
still as he could. "Like this?"
"Yeah, just like --" Bucky reached down. His hand brushed the inside of Toro's
shins, the space just above his ankles, then lifted away.
Toro heard Bucky breathing, heard the springs on the bed squeak, heard his own
heartbeat. Then he saw black and red: Bucky pushed forward, rolled his hips and
thrust his dick. Into that space, past and between Toro's ankles, angling up
his calves. Bucky's arms were wrapped around Toro's waist, his mouth on his
chest.
Bucky hung on for dear life, hips rocking and pumping. Toro pressed his legs
together. Laughter wove through him, never escaping; he only grunted, hanging
onto Bucky's shoulders. The friction soared up his legs and burrowed into his
dick, twisting it tighter. This was crazy, this had to be a joke, but no joke
felt quite this good.
Toro thrust back, harder. Bucky's hips rabbitted and his gasps shredded higher
and faster.
"C'mon," Toro urged, mouth on Bucky's ear. He dug his nails into Bucky's shirt.
"C'mon, you --"
Hunched over, hips working and shoulder blades pointing heavenward, Bucky
looked like he was praying, or dying, or something equally private. Toro hardly
ever knew what Bucky was thinking. He was lucky to guess right more than half
the time.
Sweat dampened Bucky's hair. He groaned, high and broken, mouth slashed open.
Toro pressed his legs together and held Bucky there, pushing back until Bucky
jolted and ejaculated. Strands of semen stung the boots, then slowly sank in.
Bucky's head hung down as his breathing started to slow.
"Jiminy," Bucky said shakily, straightening up, tucking himself back in. "Those
are --. That felt --"
Toro flopped back on the bed and pulled on his trunks.
Bucky caught his feet by the heels and dragged his knuckles up Toro's calves,
pulling them until Toro's legs draped over his shoulders. He snuffled against
the damp, ticklish skin of Toro's inner thigh.
Toro floated within his skin, his hips pushing higher and higher. Bucky started
to ease the trunks down, far too slow. Hissing through his teeth, Toro wriggled
free so fast his penis slapped Bucky's cheek. Moisture sprayed from the head.
Toro thrust several times against the rough, fuzzy texture of Bucky's skin, hot
and so different. Rough, but familiar, and --.
He locked his ankles around Bucky's back and pushed up to meet Bucky's mouth.
Bucky's lips met him right there, and he pushed his fingers back inside the top
of Toro's boots, every touch and suck as tight and desperate as Toro felt.
He had to be careful not to flame on when he got like this. His pillow and
coverlet were asbestos and wool, but the mattress -- the rest of the room -
- Bucky, they were all flammable --.
He couldn't --.
Toro drummed his heels against Bucky's back, crushed his knees against his
ears. He heard, remotely, the wet squelching sounds of Bucky's mouth.
He was coming, just on the edge, hanging on to the mattress with one hand and
keeping the fire down with all his might.
Bucky got his fingers, all of them or nearly all, inside one boot. He jacked it
in and out in time with the motion of his mouth, whining on each upstroke. Toro
rose half off the bed, flying. He was coming against Bucky's mouth as Bucky
scrambled to his feet to follow.
He hovered there, legs sliding off Bucky's shoulders, his heart beating in
every pore. Laughing under his breath, Bucky slid his arm under the small of
Toro's back, dipping him like Astaire with Rogers in a frothy dress. He guided
Toro back down to the bed.
Toro blinked away sparks and scrubbed his hand over his face. Bucky slapped out
a few tiny flames on the blanket before tossing himself on the bed and yanking
Toro against him. Come smeared his lips and rubbed off, sizzling, when Toro
kissed him.
There were small holes, black around the edges, on Bucky's undershirt where
Toro's sparks had alit. He traced them with one fingertip, pressing down on the
pink skin beneath, until Bucky gulped. He'd never cry uncle or ask for mercy.
Bucky went up on his elbow, hair in his face, smirk curving over his lips. He
sounded angelic, as sweet and eager as he did on the newsreels, when he asked,
"Now can I try them on?"
Toro never could say no, not to Bucky.
 
.end
End Notes
     eta I just remembered it's the anniversary of D-Day. Uh, Happy
     Anniversary, Buck? *facepalm*
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