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Steve is no stranger to sex. Back then, he didn’t know what to say to Peggy. He still doesn’t, even though he picks up her number and stares at it every morning before putting it down again. He has it memorized; his SHIELD issued cell phone would cost nothing to call her. But he does not know what to say.
He gets teased about his supposed lack of experience. People call him an altar boy. He ignores it all and just doesn’t mention going out and picking up someone at a bar every Thursday.
It’s always Thursdays, because nothing seems to happen on Thursdays. He hasn’t figured that one out yet, but maybe one day he’ll understand the criminal mind.
At the moment, he’s got some guy balls deep in him. Steve doesn’t remember the guy’s name. Normally, he’d feel bad about that, but he’s already tearing himself up about how much the guy looks like Bucky. It’s the only reason he picked him, and hell if Steve doesn’t feel burning guilt over it. But he sought him out anyway. They found a hotel, Steve threw him on the bed, and they stripped. Soon enough, they were both hard and aching, Steve opening himself up for the guy.
Now it doesn’t matter what his name is or what he looks like. It’s just want and desire, a need to come as fast as they can.
The guy has good technique. He brushes Steve’s prostate more often than not, which sends waves of pleasure through Steve. Steve can feel his balls tightening, the pressure building. He’s going to come in a moment.
This isn’t the first time he’s fucked someone who looks like someone else. He slept with a blonde Natasha first. After that, it hasn’t been weird with others. There was beardless Tony and Fury with two good eyes. Skinny Thor was interesting. And of course there was modern Carole Lombard, she was fun.
He doesn’t feel guilty about those others. The morning after has been a little awkward if he runs into the original, but it’s more funny than anything. And the famous people, well, they’re just pure fantasy anyway.
Steve misses Bucky like hell. It’s different because of that. It’s like he’s debasing Bucky’s memory or trading it for a cheap substitute.
The guy moans above Steve, deep and raspy. He even sounds like Bucky, which makes it even worse. That’s the kind of sound Bucky made when he ate a burger for the first time since getting to the front. That was, what, Christmas of ‘44?
It wasn’t so long ago for Steve, only a couple years. But Bucky’s been gone a long time for the rest of the world.
Steve comes, his hand wrapped around his cock, and the guy fucks him through it. Steve doesn’t think much in that moment, he just enjoys the feel of being fucked, of orgasming, of letting his tension go. He’s euphoric for a brief moment, and he just revels in it.
When he comes down, the guy continues to thrust into him. He picks up speed, balls slapping against Steve’s ass, faster and faster until he tips over the edge and comes, too.
Condoms are deposited in the trash. The guy says, “You want to shower?”
The hot water feels good against Steve’s skin. They don’t talk much. It’s all open mouth kisses against skin and soapy hands flying over cocks. They each come again. As the water washes their come away, the guy says in Steve’s ear, “I’d like to go down on you sometime.”
Steve doesn’t reply. He grabs the guy’s head and kisses him hard. They rub their bodies against one another for a long moment, just for the slide of wet skin against wet skin. Steve figures the guy works out regularly. He’s not as muscular as Bucky, but he’s still toned. Steve lets his hands trace circles over his shoulder blades.
They dry off with little performance. Soon enough, they’re both half dressed, neither bothering to throw on their shirt.
The guy opens the minibar and stares at it for a long moment. The moment stretches out too long before the guy closes it. Steve doesn’t ask.
“So can I see you again?” the guy asks. He saunters over to Steve with a smug look on his face. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, cocks his hip out so he’s just that much shorter. Steve looks down into his eyes, and all he can see is Bucky.
“Uh, sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
The guy looks baffled. But then his smirk returns, and he says, “TJ.”
“TJ,” Steve repeats. “I don’t know.”
TJ breaks away, but he doesn’t lose his air of confidence. “So, Steve,” he says, and it hurts how much that sounds like Bucky, “are you really him?” He gives Steve a once-over. “Captain America.”
“In the flesh.” Steve holds out his arms, presenting himself with a half-shrug. “Does that bother you?”
“No. But it does explains some things.” TJ throws himself on the bed, propping his head up on with an arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone forget my name before.”
“Sorry,” Steve says, as genuinely as he can. “You just remind me of someone. I got distracted.”
“Who?”
TJ’s eyes meet Steve’s dead on. The kid’s fearless as well as a good lay. That only makes the similarities more apparent.
Steve feels a little awkward admitting (and isn’t quite sure why he even does), “My friend Bucky.”
TJ’s expression shifts slightly. He looks curious, like he doesn’t recognize the name. “From the war?” he says. Steve nods. “Sorry, didn’t care much for history growing up.”
Steve settles himself into the armchair across from the bed. The hotel room is cramped; usually Steve just takes them to his place, even if Fury would give him hell if he knew. TJ mentioned the hotel, though, which was just around the corner from the club, and Steve had asked for a cheap room.
“Doesn’t seem many people do,” he says with a wry grin. “Not that my generation was much better. Two major wars in thirty years.”
“Yeah, well, now war is profitable, and we’re never not in one.” TJ says this with a snort. “My mom keeps saying we should end the fighting, but there’s always something stopping us. And it’s usually a lobbyist.”
“Your mother works in government?”
TJ mirrors Steve’s smile. “You could say that.”
Steve doesn’t ask for clarification. He’s curious, but it is a little inappropriate to grill someone about their mother when you’re just a one-night stand.
TJ is just watching him. Steve almost expects him to grin and laugh, call him a punk, and ask if he wants to go dancing with a couple of dames.
It’s a surprise when TJ says, “Did you love him?”
Steve takes his time to respond.. “Yeah,” he says eventually, “we were like brothers. But we didn’t sleep together.”
“But were you in love?”
It leaves Steve feeling stumped. Honestly, he has no idea. He looks at TJ for a long while. The more he looks, the more he sees the little differences between them. TJ is slighter. He’s a bit older than Bucky was. He’s a little more cocky than Bucky, a little more full of himself.
It’s these differences that Steve focuses on when he says instead, “We should probably get going.”
TJ purses his lips like he means to protest, but all of a sudden, he relaxes. “Sure, yeah.”
They finish dressing. Steve half-makes the bed out of habit. The key cards in his hand, he escorts TJ to the hotel room door. Just as he is about to open it, TJ places a hand over Steve’s.
“You never said if I could see you again?” TJ says.
Again, Steve focuses on the differences. TJ’s eyes are a different shade, and he has some freckles across his nose. His nose is also a little crooked from some previous break.
“Sure,” Steve says after a moment. “Give me your number.”
“Be sure to call,” TJ says with a grin.
Steve hasn’t seen anyone he’s had sex with more than once. He’s a bit afraid that he agreed to see TJ because he’s so like Bucky.
As Steve settles into his own bed that night, he turns TJ’s question in his head again. Was he in love with Bucky? Is he still?
It’s a loaded question, and Steve doesn’t think he can ever find an answer. It doesn’t even matter now. Bucky’s long dead.
He closes his eyes and tries not to think too much about it. He needs to sleep; the evening, though short, has left him exhausted.
Sex is easy. Love is an entirely different matter.
Steve’s phone rings. He realizes from the faint light filtering into the room that he did fall asleep after all.
“Hello?” he says, not bothering to look at the Caller ID. For some reason, he half expects it to be TJ.
However, it’s Natasha who is there. “Fury wants to talk to us,” she says. “There was an assassination early this morning.”
“I’ll be there soon.” Steve hangs up without another word.
As he dresses, he finds it funny how the assassination was in the morning. That means it technically happened on Friday. Even this Winter Soldier assassin never works on Thursdays.
Maybe Steve will call TJ later and schedule something for next week. It can’t hurt to see him once more.
After all, as much as they look alike, TJ and Bucky are not the same person. Steve knows this, even if he can’t stop thinking about it.
Either way, Steve is never getting Bucky back.