Of Love and Lines (MCUxReader)

Twenty Five

Steve POV

Steve fought against the ragged breaths heaving his chest as he paced the space. He could feel the others watching him. Smartly, they said nothing. Giving him the space he needed to clear his head enough to form a plan. They needed a fucking plan.

Stopping, he looked at Tony. "You will continue to trace the lead."

Tony nodded.

Next, he looked at Bruce. "Her injuries are consistent with torture. We need to have a plan ready for when we get her back. She's going to need help."

Bruce nodded just as Tony had. "I will reach out to Bucky's therapist. See if they have room in their caseload."

"Good." Steve agreed.

"She was clearly sending us a message. Did anyone pick up on it?" Natasha asked.

Steve, Bruce, and Tony all shook their heads in unison.

Nat's next suggestion was expected, but not one he was prepared for. "We need to watch it again then. Please tell me you recorded it, Stark."

"Of course I did." He typed away at the computer in the desk and Steve watched the scene rewind, clenching his jaw.

His feet began pacing anew.

"Take a breather, Cap." Bruce spoke calmly to him. "When you're ready, come back. Maybe we'll have something."

Steve's feet turned, taking him from the room without another word.

He wasn't cognizant of his movement, just focusing on the fact that he needed to get as far away from there as fucking possible. The images he'd bared witness to replayed in his head on a loop.

He found himself in the training gym. Bucky and Parker were sparing. Steve stood just inside the doorway, his arms crossed. When Buck noticed him, he stopped the sparring, giving Parker orders on how to finish his workout alone before making his way towards Steve. Steve spun on his heels, heading back down the hall and up the three flights of stairs to their suite. When he entered his room, he left the door open behind him. Buck closed it, going to the space at the foot of Steve's bed and kneeling down. He kept his gaze pinned on the floor beneath him, his palms out flat on his thighs as Steve paced.

But that's not what Steve needed. He needed not to fucking think. Not to be the one making decisions.

Freezing, Steve looked down at Buck. "No."

Bucky's gaze shot up, his head cocking to the side.

Steve held his stare for a moment, before reaching a hand down to grab Buck's forearm and pull him up. The second Bucky was on his feet, Steve took his place on the floor. His gaze locked onto the carpet beneath him, his hands stretched out flat on his thighs. He waited.

Buck moved to crouch in front of him, lifting his chin with two cool metal fingers until Steve was forced to meet his gaze. Buck took one look at Steve's eyes and gave him a short nod.

"One to ten."

"Ten." Steve answered.

Buck's nostrils flared. "Safe word."

"Plums."

Satisfied, Bucky dropped Steve's chin and Steve immediately took back to staring at the floor as he listened to Buck go into the closet. When he returned, Bucky sat on the bed behind Steve, his hands pulling Steves's shirt up his back.

"Arms up." Buck ordered.

Steve held his arms straight above his head and Buck removed his shirt before pulling his arms down taught behind his back. The leather arm binder Bucky had chosen was inlaid with sharp metal spikes that immediately dug into Steve's biceps and triceps as Buck secured his upper arms in the cuffs, cinching them until Steve felt the metal prongs break his skin. Reflexively his muscles tensed, attempting to move away from the needling pain. But as the small pricks took root, Steve began to relax into the pain. The roaring that had taken up in his head diminishing slightly. Bucky connected the two cuffs with the strap that ran the length of Steve's shoulders, pulling it taught until Steve's pecs cried out from the stretch. Next was the wrist cuffs, inlaid with the same spikes as the ones on his arms. Bucky fastened them tight enough that the blood flow was immediately cut off, Steve's fingers igniting in fiery bursts of pins and needles until a wave of numbness took over the extremities.