The Last Night of Winter

**February 1945, Western Front, Allied secret camp in the Ardennes Forest**

A heavy snow was falling; the distant explosions were like the roar of winter thunder. The small command tent, with a small oil heater and two metal beds, was Sarah and Bucky's only shelter.

**Sarah Smith**, Captain America, had just returned from a mission to rescue a trapped battalion. Her uniform was frozen, but her body was still warm from the battle. Her 188 cm tall glowed like a pillar of strength in the tight tent.

**James "Bucky" Barnes**, a corporal in the 107th, sat with a fresh wound on his arm; his brown hair was disheveled, his eyes full of fatigue and something deeper—a love he had never said.

Bucky opened a stolen flask of Scotch. “Here’s to Jordan’s last night.”

Sarah took the metal cup, her fingers wrapped around Bucky’s. “Here’s to you, Bucky. Always.”

The whiskey was gone, and there was a heavy silence. Bucky moved closer, placing his hand on Sarah’s cheek. “You… you always took care of me, Sarah. Even before I did.”

Sarah smiled, her eyes filled with frozen tears. “And you were always there for me, even when everyone thought I couldn’t.”

Their lips met; a kiss full of whiskey and snow. Sarah put her hand behind Bucky’s neck, pulling him to the bed. One by one, their clothes fell off; Sarah’s uniform, with its brass buttons, on the frozen floor. His muscular body was revealed: firm chest, six-pack abs, thighs that could hold a tank.

Bucky took off his shirt; his lean but strong body, with scars old and new. Sara put a finger on the fresh scar, put her lips there. “Does it hurt?”

Bucky shook his head. “Only when you’re not there.”

Sara laid him down on the bed, standing over him. Her blond hair fell across Bucky’s face, like a curtain of light. Her lips started at Bucky’s neck, over his chest, over his stomach, down to where he pulled his military pants down. Bucky was hard, throbbing, like his heart. Sara wrapped her lips around him, slow, deep. Bucky moaned, digging his hand into Sara’s hair.

“Sarah… *God…*”

Sarah climbed up, sat on Bucky. His legs wrapped around her waist, slowly descending. She felt Bucky sink into her, thrusting. “Bucky… you… you’re everything.”

Bucky raised his waist, going deeper. His hands on Sara’s hips, as if he wanted to hold her forever. Sara picked up the pace, her hips rising and falling, her muscles tightening. The room was filled with the sound of breaths, moans, the contact of skin on skin.

Bucky spun, putting Sara under him. Now he was in control, but Sara was still the one directing. His legs locked around Bucky’s waist, pulling her deeper. “Harder, Bucky. Show me how much you want me.”

The climax was near. Sara felt a contraction inside her, a surge of pleasure amplified by my head. “Bucky… now… come with me…”

Bucky moaned, his body shaking, and he emptied himself. Sarah arrived, a suppressed scream, her body arching, her muscles tightening around Bucky.

Then, they lay in each other’s arms. Sarah stroked Bucky’s hair, as if she wanted to remember every moment.

“Operation Alpine Train tomorrow…” Bucky whispered.

Sarah pressed her lips to his forehead. “I know. But tonight… it’s just you and me tonight.”

The snow was falling outside, the oil heater was out. Two soldiers, two lovers, one eternal night—before the Hydra **** Train swallowed Bucky and left Sarah alone forever.