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Steven G. Norfleet and Terrell Carter Beauty in Black 1.05 "Unraveling Threads"

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Rafael Silva

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JOHN BOYEGA Pirelli Calendar 2025

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JOHN BOYEGA

by Alessandro Scotti behind the scenes for the Pirelli Calendar 2025

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KEV INSPIRING & RILEY MITCHEL

2025 | Bait Buddies

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Chains of Valor - A Sam and Bucky Fan Fic Vol 1

The door slammed.

Again.

“Of course you went rogue,” Sam snapped, flinging his jacket onto the chair. “Why the hell wouldn’t you? It’s not like the rest of us need coordination or backup!”

Bucky’s boots hit the floor hard. “I wasn’t rogue. I saw a chance and I took it.”

“No, you saw a ghost and chased it,” Sam shot back, voice rising. “Like you always do. And again—I’m left to pick up the pieces!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bucky said bitterly, stepping into his space. “Is that inconvenient for Captain Fucking America?”

Sam turned slowly, jaw clenched. “Don’t do that.”

Bucky’s voice cracked. “Why not? You think I don’t hear it every time someone looks at you and then looks at me? One of us got the shield. The other got—what? A pardon? A therapist? An apology tour?”

Sam scoffed. “You think this is about Steve?”

Bucky glared. “It’s always about Steve.”

There was a long, heavy silence. Then Sam exploded.

“You think I asked for that damn shield? You think I wanted the legacy of a man who didn’t even think twice about handing it off and flying off into the sunset with no plan for what came next?”

“Oh, so sorry he didn’t consult you on his time travel retirement package,” Bucky sneered. “You weren’t even there when we lost him the first time, Sam.”

“Yeah?” Sam shot back. “Well I was there when you nearly beat that guy to death in Latvia. I was there when you almost lost it in Madripoor. And I was there when Zemo had you on your knees in Sokovia, twitching like a live wire!”

Bucky’s eyes flared — a deep flash of pain and fury. “Don’t you dare bring up Sokovia.”

“I’ll bring up whatever the hell I want,” Sam growled, stepping in close now, chest to chest. “Because I’m the one who stayed. When Steve left, when the government turned, when Walker smeared the shield in blood, I stayed. And you—you kept looking for someone to give you purpose. Someone to forgive you.”

“I didn’t ask for forgiveness,” Bucky snarled.

“No. You just asked to bleed.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Their breath was ragged, both of them vibrating with fury and grief and heat. Then—something cracked.

Sam grabbed Bucky by the collar and slammed their mouths together — not a kiss, a collision. Teeth. Tongues. Hands fisting into fabric. Years of rage and regret crashing into pure need.

Bucky shoved him backward into the wall, yanked Sam’s shirt up over his head. Sam bit down on Bucky’s lip hard enough to draw blood. Bucky’s hands were everywhere — dragging, clawing, stripping.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Bucky hissed against his throat. “You think this fixes anything?”

“No,” Sam growled, ripping open the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. “But it shuts you up.”

Their mouths crashed again, messier this time, Sam’s back hitting the table, Bucky pressing in, hips grinding, heat pooling between them. Sam’s fingers twisted in Bucky’s hair, yanking his head down to suck hard on a nipple, making Bucky swear through his teeth.

“This what you want?” Sam snapped, breathless, biting down. “You want someone to punish you, soldier?”

Bucky let out a rough, desperate groan. “I want you. All of you.”

“Then fucking take me.”

Bucky lay on his stomach, breath already uneven, arms braced against the mattress, back arched. His skin was flushed, marked with last night’s passion, and slick with the anticipation of what Sam was doing to him now.

Sam hovered above him, broad hands gripping Bucky’s hips, his chest gliding over Bucky’s back as he rocked forward with slow, deep strokes. He moved with a grace that contradicted the sheer force of him — fluid, relentless — his body pressing in again and again like a tide crashing into shore.

Each thrust was met with the rhythmic smack of skin against skin. The sound filled the room, echoing through the air, blending with Bucky’s low groans and sharp breaths.

Bucky looked back over his shoulder, eyes hooded, lips parted. “Fuck—Sam—don’t stop—”

Sam didn’t speak. His jaw was tight, breath ragged, focus locked entirely on the way Bucky’s body responded to him — the way he rose to meet every thrust, the way his muscles clenched and trembled with every slow, deliberate movement.

“You feel so damn good,” Sam growled into Bucky’s ear, voice low and rough. “Tight. Warm. Like you were made for this.”

Bucky’s moan was almost a sob, his hands gripping the sheets. “God—harder, baby—”

Sam obliged, thrusts deepening, rhythm steady but demanding. His body moved like water — smooth and strong, rising and falling with effortless control. Sweat beaded on his back, dripping down onto Bucky’s skin as he rode him through wave after wave of pulsing heat.

It was intense. Intimate. A full-body surrender.

Bucky’s moans were getting louder—raw, unfiltered, pouring out of him like he couldn’t hold them back if he tried. Each deep, steady thrust from Sam dragged another sound from his throat, his body rocked forward by the force of it, the bed creaking beneath them.

“Ah—fuck—Sam,” he cried out, voice cracking.

Sam’s rhythm didn’t falter. He was locked in, muscles tight, skin slick with sweat, his body moving against Bucky’s with powerful, fluid control. He watched Bucky’s back arch, watched the muscles in his shoulders tighten, felt the clench around him every time Bucky lost control.

But the noise—those needy, broken moans—were getting too loud.

Sam leaned down, breath hot against Bucky’s ear. “Shh, baby,” he murmured, and before Bucky could answer, Sam clamped his hand over his mouth, firm but gentle. “You want the neighbors knowing how good I fuck you?”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back, the sound behind Sam’s palm muffled but frantic. He pushed back harder, his body begging for more, sweat dripping from his temple, his hips jerking with each thrust.

Sam groaned, lips brushing the shell of Bucky’s ear. “That’s it… take it.”

He kept his hand over Bucky’s mouth, holding him there, while his other hand dug into Bucky’s hip, guiding his rhythm. Every smack of skin-on-skin sent heat surging through them both, Bucky’s moans now desperate and wet against Sam’s palm.

Sam didn’t let up. He was relentless—deep, precise, and grounding Bucky in place, body pressed full against his back, overwhelming him in the best possible way.

Bucky’s whole body was trembling now, eyes fluttering, voice muffled and ragged.

Sam kissed the back of his neck, slow and possessive. “You close, baby?”

Bucky nodded frantically, panting behind Sam’s hand.

Sam smiled against his skin. “Then give it to me.”

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ALEX MARTE & KINKOER

MEN.COM – Alpha Builders # 2

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COLBY JANSEN

2013 | MEN.COM - Top To Bottom #5

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