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fan_flashworks2020-06-21 10:25 pm
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Hungry challenge: MCU: Fanfic: Straddle the line
Title: Straddle the line
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Rating: Teen
Length: 675 words
Content notes: Contains vampires (with associated threatening behaviour)
Author notes: Just a quickie ficbit so I can crack on with some of my other obligations...
Summary: Steve doesn't want what Bucky's offering.
“Stevie,” Bucky purred from behind him, and Steve flinched.
“This isn’t you, Buck,” he said, turning on his heel fast enough that it made his head spin, and reaching out blindly behind him for something, anything he could use for defence. Not that it was likely to do much good, but old habits died hard and he sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight. “I know you’re in there; I know you. You just gotta fight this. You’ve done it before.”
Bucky cocked his head to one side, his eyes glittering in the moonlight as he leaned casually against the closest wall, and Steve desperately tried to calculate the distance between Bucky and the mouth of the dead-end alleyway he’d managed to back himself into, how far he’d need to sprint to reach the crowded street where there really was safety in numbers. Too far, his brain said, urgently. Bucky, like this, was too fast; he would be even if Steve wasn’t Steve, too small and too weak to outrun anyone, even if he didn’t have lungs that creaked like old floorboards any time he asked too much of them.
“Nice speech,” Bucky said, in an easy tone that didn’t match his intent expression at all. “Got any more?”
“You don’t want to hurt me,” Steve said, stubbornly, bringing his empty fists up in front of himself, ready to throw a punch if Bucky tried anything. “Not real you, anyway.”
“No,” Bucky allowed, and then he was there, too fast for Steve’s eyes to parse the movement before Bucky was crowding him back against the rough-hewn brick, cool where he should be hot, and flooding Steve’s nose with an earthy, tangy scent that was simultaneously familiar and utterly horrifying. “But all the versions of me want to help you.”
“Bullshit,” Steve said, tipping his chin up in the most defiant gesture he could manage, and Bucky grinned sharply, with just a flash of fang that sent a shiver crawling over Steve’s skin. He caught hold of Steve’s wrist, an unforgiving grip that he couldn’t wriggle free from, and lifted it high towards his mouth.
“You’re breaking my heart, Stevie,” he said, flicking his tongue out to lick cool and damp across the thin skin on the inside of Steve’s wrist, and Steve’s next breath came in on a different kind of shudder. “I just want to make you better.”
“So you’re not just looking for your next meal?” he said, more accusation than question, and Bucky flexed his fingers with an unrepentant shrug.
“Don’t see why we can’t both benefit from the arrangement,” he said, and Steve twisted against his grip; jerky, jagged movements fuelled by an anger burning low and hot in his belly that were no use in breaking him free but did at least help him to feel better. Bucky arched an eyebrow disbelievingly, and Steve scowled at him. “Why’ve you always gotta be so difficult?”
“Because I don’t want it, jerk,” he said, fiercely, and Bucky pulled back, as though he’d been slapped. “So you’re hungry. Suck it up, Buck; there’s a war on. We’re all hungry.”
Bucky’s eye’s flashed, and then he surged forward, slamming Steve’s trapped wrist against the wall hard enough that Steve felt the acid sting his skin broke against the abrasive brick. His hips pressed in against Steve’s, locking him in place as surely as shackles, while his free hand wrapped around Steve’s throat, his thumb pressed warningly against Steve’s windpipe. Bucky ducked his head, his hair tickling against Steve’s cheek as he pressed his nose in tight against the side of Steve’s neck and inhaled sharply. Steve felt the graze of teeth too sharp to be human scraping over his skin, fear prickling in their wake no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, and he froze, heart in his mouth.
“No, Stevie,” Bucky murmured without lifting his head, his words quivering across Steve’s throat like the threat of a knife in the guise of a caress. “I’m not hungry. I’m starving."
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Rating: Teen
Length: 675 words
Content notes: Contains vampires (with associated threatening behaviour)
Author notes: Just a quickie ficbit so I can crack on with some of my other obligations...
Summary: Steve doesn't want what Bucky's offering.
“Stevie,” Bucky purred from behind him, and Steve flinched.
“This isn’t you, Buck,” he said, turning on his heel fast enough that it made his head spin, and reaching out blindly behind him for something, anything he could use for defence. Not that it was likely to do much good, but old habits died hard and he sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight. “I know you’re in there; I know you. You just gotta fight this. You’ve done it before.”
Bucky cocked his head to one side, his eyes glittering in the moonlight as he leaned casually against the closest wall, and Steve desperately tried to calculate the distance between Bucky and the mouth of the dead-end alleyway he’d managed to back himself into, how far he’d need to sprint to reach the crowded street where there really was safety in numbers. Too far, his brain said, urgently. Bucky, like this, was too fast; he would be even if Steve wasn’t Steve, too small and too weak to outrun anyone, even if he didn’t have lungs that creaked like old floorboards any time he asked too much of them.
“Nice speech,” Bucky said, in an easy tone that didn’t match his intent expression at all. “Got any more?”
“You don’t want to hurt me,” Steve said, stubbornly, bringing his empty fists up in front of himself, ready to throw a punch if Bucky tried anything. “Not real you, anyway.”
“No,” Bucky allowed, and then he was there, too fast for Steve’s eyes to parse the movement before Bucky was crowding him back against the rough-hewn brick, cool where he should be hot, and flooding Steve’s nose with an earthy, tangy scent that was simultaneously familiar and utterly horrifying. “But all the versions of me want to help you.”
“Bullshit,” Steve said, tipping his chin up in the most defiant gesture he could manage, and Bucky grinned sharply, with just a flash of fang that sent a shiver crawling over Steve’s skin. He caught hold of Steve’s wrist, an unforgiving grip that he couldn’t wriggle free from, and lifted it high towards his mouth.
“You’re breaking my heart, Stevie,” he said, flicking his tongue out to lick cool and damp across the thin skin on the inside of Steve’s wrist, and Steve’s next breath came in on a different kind of shudder. “I just want to make you better.”
“So you’re not just looking for your next meal?” he said, more accusation than question, and Bucky flexed his fingers with an unrepentant shrug.
“Don’t see why we can’t both benefit from the arrangement,” he said, and Steve twisted against his grip; jerky, jagged movements fuelled by an anger burning low and hot in his belly that were no use in breaking him free but did at least help him to feel better. Bucky arched an eyebrow disbelievingly, and Steve scowled at him. “Why’ve you always gotta be so difficult?”
“Because I don’t want it, jerk,” he said, fiercely, and Bucky pulled back, as though he’d been slapped. “So you’re hungry. Suck it up, Buck; there’s a war on. We’re all hungry.”
Bucky’s eye’s flashed, and then he surged forward, slamming Steve’s trapped wrist against the wall hard enough that Steve felt the acid sting his skin broke against the abrasive brick. His hips pressed in against Steve’s, locking him in place as surely as shackles, while his free hand wrapped around Steve’s throat, his thumb pressed warningly against Steve’s windpipe. Bucky ducked his head, his hair tickling against Steve’s cheek as he pressed his nose in tight against the side of Steve’s neck and inhaled sharply. Steve felt the graze of teeth too sharp to be human scraping over his skin, fear prickling in their wake no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, and he froze, heart in his mouth.
“No, Stevie,” Bucky murmured without lifting his head, his words quivering across Steve’s throat like the threat of a knife in the guise of a caress. “I’m not hungry. I’m starving."