Work Text:
June 24, 2000
Bucky figured that warm water would be easier to come by on such a hot day, but it’s been running ice cold for almost a minute, and he’s beginning to get worried. He turns everything off and then on again, just the left side and— oh, that was the problem. Wrong side. Thank God, because he’s never squeezed ice water up his ass before, and he didn’t want today of all days to be the first time he tried it.
When it’s pleasant to the touch, he fills the enema pouch and fits the tip back in. Then he gets on all fours, lubes up his hole and the tip, pushes it in, and slowly fills himself. God, the feel of it, the pressure, the warmth, he’s Pavlov’s dirty dog, all right, his mind filling with sick ideas of the night to come as he pulls it out and lies down on his side on the bathroom floor. He pillows his head on his arm and clenches his ass against the urge to shit, the one that comes and goes, and he should have done this earlier. Before the dinner they weren’t supposed to go to, before Steve dragged him out and made googly eyes at him across the table for an hour while Bucky drank vodka tonics and moved his food around his plate, because he wasn’t supposed to eat, because they’re supposed to fuck tonight and it’s gotta be good, and Steve doesn’t know the rules yet. Why would he?
Bucky was too embarrassed to spell it out for him, just like he was too embarrassed to tell him what he’s doing in here now. “Getting ready,” he put it, and he booped Steve on his nose and told him it was a secret, because nobody wants to look behind this particular curtain to see all the bullshit that goes into being basically fuckable.
He shifts and slowly makes his way to his feet, swaying a little, and he sits down on the toilet and gladly lets everything go, emptying himself. But when he checks, he clearly — or not so clearly — needs another round. So he does it again, and then once more, just to be sure. Then he cleans his kit, puts it all away, and jumps in the shower. He soaps himself up and wonders if he should try to rub one out, but he did it this morning, so he should be okay. Then he stands under the water and breathes deep and tries to calm his flitting, skittish pulse.
After, he towels off, dries his hair — what little he has to work with now, fucking son of a bitch. He brushes his teeth but his hands are unsteady as he puts his toothbrush away, and he grabs the Listerine from under the sink, taking several deep, burning gulps before recapping it and shoving it back where he got it. He clenches his trembling fingers and stands and stares himself down in the mirror. He turns, appraising himself from all angles, how he might look from the front, the back, the side, how his ass looks when he bends over, how his hole looks when he spreads, how he looks when he makes his faces — seductive, confident, playful, charming. He jerks himself hard, watches himself, then checks front, side, back.
It seems like a good state to make his entrance.
He opens the bathroom door and steps out, his cock swaying as he walks. When his feet hit the wood floor of his bedroom, Steve’s head jerks up from Bucky’s pillow. And, Jesus Christ, he’s not sure who fucked up in the karma department to put this beautiful, naked man on his bed — to make this beautiful, naked man want him — but he’s learned not to ask too many questions about cosmic flukes like these.
Six-feet two inches of perfect muscular maleness, laid out for him like a present, dick hardening, lips parting as Bucky swaggers closer. He’s got it down, he knows how he looks to men of a certain taste — and, somehow, Steve is one of them, though Bucky still isn’t completely buying it. It just doesn’t make any sense. But it’s another thing he tries not to question too hard.
At the bedside, Bucky hitches his leg up and mounts that beautiful man, straddling his hips, and settles his weight down.
“Hi.”
Steve pulls in a deep breath through his nose as his hands find Bucky’s thighs. “Hey.”
Bucky reaches back and feels around for Steve’s cock. He grips it, angles him up a little, right against his ass, and a low sound rumbles from Steve as he tilts his ass up and teases the tip of Steve’s dick over his hole.
“So, you ready to do this?” Bucky asks. “After making us wait for three months?”
“It’s—” Steve pulls in a breath and his hands move, sliding up toward Bucky’s pelvis. “This is different. It’s special.”
Bucky huffs out a laugh and sits upright. “Oh my God, you’re so funny. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it.”
Steve’s mouth flattens into a serious line, and his touch is gone, hands curling at his side. “Because I think it means something, even if you think it means nothing.”
It hits like a smack, both the withdrawal and the accusation. Bucky lets go of Steve’s cock and lays both hands on his chest. “Look, I know you’ve been waiting for months, but…” He bites his lip. This is the hard part. It always is. “I’ve been waiting for this for years. So, no, I don’t think it’s nothing.”
Steve’s chest is warm, like his whole body. Radiating. Bucky presses the pads of his fingertips against Steve’s skin and draws them in like a slow, gentle claw, his short nails skimming through the light dusting of Steve’s chest hair. He loves it, even as he despises his own, and he forbade Steve to even think of doing anything to it.
Bucky takes Steve’s wrists and guides his hands back to his thighs. Steve takes another deep breath and is touching him again, thank God, and Bucky smiles.
“All right, so, you’ve been daydreaming about this, right? This very big deal. What did you imagine it was gonna look like?”
Steve regards him for a few moments, breath quickening.
“Get off.”
Steve gives Bucky’s thigh a light slap and lays a hand on his waist, urging him off and over, onto his back, knees bent. And Steve is kneeling next to him and looks at him, just looks down, just looks, like the lovestruck idiot he is, and then he’s got his hands on Bucky’s knees and he’s spreading them, oh God, and he’s crawling between them, lowering himself, Steve’s cock pressing against his balls, his face right there, right above him.
“Like this.”
“Whoa,” Bucky breathes.
He nudges his hips forward again, and Bucky shifts to get his nuts out of the way. Steve lifts his hips completely and looks down the length of their bodies.
“Oh— sorry.”
He lowers himself again and aims higher, rubbing his hard-on against Bucky’s, rocking his hips minutely. Steve exhales slowly and looks down at him, searches his face, his eyes darkening.
“This is really close,” Bucky says. His hands are open, upturned on the bed, knees spread wide.
“I know. I wanna kiss you when we do it.”
And he does, softly, on the lips, on the chin, on the jaw. He starts to move lower, down his neck, and he’s there, all of him, and it’s— it’s too—
Bucky’s hands move then, landing firm on Steve’s chest again. Only this time, they’re pushing, and Steve straightens his arms, hovering, confused.
“The thing is—” Bucky blinks away, over to his dresser, to the condoms and lube on the nightstand, and when he looks back up at Steve, he’s found some footing, mouth quirked, whole and dauntless. “The mechanics aren’t so great this way. And I like to jerk it when I get plowed, so— and— I mean, you’re probably gonna blow your load pretty fast anyway, ‘cause you’ve never fucked someone in the ass before, so you’re really in for it.”
Steve snorts.
“Wow. Such a romantic.”
“Hey, I’m romantic.”
“You’re crass. That was crass.”
“Crass? I’m the crass one?”
“There’s a difference between dirty talk and saying— something like that.”
“What the fuck do you want me to say? ‘Make love to me’?”
The mocking tone, the one Bucky doesn't quite intend, hits like a salvo, straight between Steve’s brows. They draw together sharply.
“Would that be so bad?”
Bucky opens his mouth to say no, no of course not, it wouldn’t be so bad at all, because that’s what he’s supposed to say, because it’s what Steve needs to hear, because this is a Big Deal to Steve and he needs it to be just right, and Bucky wants it to be just right for him. But then—
“Fine,” Steve says, brow flattening again. “I'll just plow you. No big deal, right? And if I blow my load too fast, well, we can just fuck again.”
Steve gets on his knees again, and he hooks his arms under Bucky’s legs and pulls his ass up and toward him. It’s a powerful move, handling Bucky like he’s nothing. Bucky’s hands fly out, grabbing for the mattress, his heart racing.
Steve releases him. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Bucky unclenches his fingers. “It’s fine,” he says, loudly, with a too-wide grin, and he should have taken at least another five gulps of mouthwash, because it was not nearly fucking enough.
“Are you sure?” Steve’s touch is there again, on his legs, and it’s soft, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rough.”
Bucky chafes his hands over Steve’s, maybe a little too hard. He eases up. “You weren’t rough. I was just surprised. I forget how big and strong and manly you are.” He gives a wink.
“I don’t know about that.” Steve squeezes Bucky’s knees. “I’m sorry.”
“I said it’s fine.”
“I’m sorry for being a prick.”
Bucky sits upright and crosses his legs. Steve mirrors him, and it’s familiar territory, the two of them sitting on the bed together, an anchor in these uncharted waters. Bucky takes one of Steve’s apologetic hands in both of his own and holds it loosely, upturned. He traces his fingers over Steve’s palm as he talks, preoccupied with the etched lines and creases, the weight lifting calluses, the smooth curves.
“You’re not a prick. You’re right. I was being crass,” Bucky says. He switches to his thumb now, running it down the center of Steve’s palm, hard enough to feel the bones beneath. “I guess I’m— nervous.”
Bucky blinks, eyes wide. He presses his thumb harder.
“Really? I thought you’ve done this before.”
Jesus Christ. Done this before. Done this before, and with a glint of virginal blue-eyed hope, that maybe he’s only done it a couple times, maybe with one or two other people. Bucky can’t help the shake of his head, reflexive resignation to his depravity, that he swiftly moves to clarify.
“Yeah, but not with you.”
Steve rotates his hand and links and unlinks their fingers. They both watch the play of nerves between them.
“I am, too,” Steve says quietly. “That’s probably obvious. I have no— I probably shouldn’t say it, but…” He gives a self-deprecating snort and half of a weak smile. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Bucky looks up from their joined hands and takes in the tension on every corner of Steve’s face, the heaviness of his brow, tightening his jaw, the thinning of his lips. Leave it to Steve to take something that’s supposed to be casual and fun and turn it into a Prime Time TV drama.
“Sure you do. This isn’t your first time. Same thing, slightly different location. You’ll be fine.”
Steve heaves a breath and finally glances up to meet Bucky’s gaze. Only then does some of that tension begin to dull, shoulders relaxing, eyes softening.
“Well, that was my idea. For how to do it.”
“What’s your second choice?”
Steve looks to the empty space on the bed next to them. “Maybe… on the side?” His ears and cheeks flush. “That way you can jerk off. And we can still be close.”
It doesn’t take much for Bucky to get a clear picture of it — a very clear picture of it — in his mind. He spares a moment of chagrin when Steve doesn’t ask for him to be on top, but there will be plenty more chances for him to fuck himself on Steve’s cock. He hopes, anyway. God, he fucking hopes. He’s only jerked off to the thought of it about a thousand times. But then again, he’s jerked off to about every way with Steve about a thousand times. Every way.
“Sure,” Bucky says.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that a good one? Does it feel good for you?”
“Yes. And yes.”
Bucky smiles and shakes his head again. He brings Steve’s palm to his mouth and kisses it.
“What?” Steve says,
“You’re sweet.”
Steve tilts his head. “Why?”
Bucky shrugs away the actual answer, the one he’s not sure he could ever say aloud.
“You just are.”
—
“What are you doing?”
Steve’s hand slows, gliding up the plane of Bucky’s side. “Just enjoying you.”
Bucky silences a sigh. Steve has been behind him forever, “enjoying” his back, his shoulder, his neck, his arm, his waist, his hip, his ass, his thigh, his calf, his ear, even his goddamn PX haircut Sergeant Z made him get two weeks ago at Fort Hamilton — fucking marched him down himself, sat in the waiting area and fucking watched him get it with a smug-ass, shit-eating smirk on his face. Make it real high and real tight, he told the lady, the fucking asshole. And can they just get on with the fucking already?
Bucky reaches over to the nightstand and snags the strip of condoms, along with the bottle of lube. He passes them back and follows his gaze there as well, modulating his voice carefully. “I really want you. Now.”
Whatever reverie Steve was lost in, he startles out of it, hand stopping, gripping. He then takes the lube and condoms, and there’s a familiar metallic crinkle, and Bucky turns over onto his back to watch Steve roll the condom on — inside-out first, then, with a breathed curse, the right way. He pinches the air out of the tip and picks up the bottle next to him.
“So, okay, wait, now I just...” He flips open the cap and looks at it helplessly, an actual fucking genius utterly stupefied by a little fucking lube.
“Put a bunch on. All over.” Bucky lays his hand on his own cock and squeezes against the pressure humming there.
Steve grabs his dick, turns up the bottle, and pours it on — a lot — and strokes himself to spread it. He puts on more, layering as much as he can, and Bucky squirms and presses up into his hand as he starts to think of it sliding up into him.
“Okay, that’s good.”
Bucky throws his arm out and over the edge of the bed, to the middle drawer of his nightstand, and pulls out a clean come towel he keeps there. He hands it to Steve to wipe the extra lube from his hand and snatches it from him as soon as he’s done. Then he’s back on his side, ass out, open and ready and reaching back for Steve, because they’ve gotta get this first part over with so that they can get to the main event.
Steve lays a hand on Bucky’s ass cheek and puffs out a breath. “Do you need me to put my finger— or—”
“No. Just go slow.”
“Oh… Okay. Okay.”
Steve shifts, and then he’s there, the tiniest hint of pressure is there, and some more of the booze kicked in after all, so Bucky’s relaxed, but he breathes deep anyway as Steve barely presses in.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Keep going. You can go faster than that.”
He pushes a little bit harder, and Bucky pushes out, and Steve takes a shuddering breath and pulls out, then pushes back in, deeper.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. You’re fine.”
“Wait. Just a minute.”
He pulls out again, completely, and then the lube cap flips open again, Jesus Christ, and when he pushes in again, his grip on Bucky’s hip gets tight as he slides in smooth, further than before, and Bucky sighs at the feel of it while Steve gets exponentially less eloquent.
“Oh my God. Oh my— my fuck. Oh my God.”
Bucky keeps his mouth shut, but he can’t stop the amusement from snorting out of him. Just a little.
Steve stops, just shy of bottoming out.
“Are you okay? Is it enough?”
“I’m fine. It’s enough.”
He finishes the push. “Jesus. Oh, Jesus Christ.”
Bucky looks over his shoulder. Steve is staring at the place where his dick has disappeared, his mouth open, pupils dark. He’s already a goner. He watches himself start to pull out but barely makes it halfway before his eyes begin rolling back into his head. He pushes back in and meets Bucky’s gaze.
“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head faintly. He tries to pull out again but thrusts back in, swearing, and he shakes his head harder now, closing his eyes.
“Oh, no.”
He pulls out again and aborts, sliding back in, carefully this time.
“God. No, no, no. God damn it.”
“I told you.”
Steve stays pushed in, but he moves in closer, his arm coming around Bucky’s torso. “Ugh, no. I don’t wanna,” he grumbles.
Bucky gives Steve’s arm a pat. “It’s okay.”
Steve’s cock moves, incrementally, the most modest of thrusts, and he moans. “No... God. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Seriously, just come. Enjoy it. It’s fine.”
Bucky reaches back and runs his hand up Steve’s thigh, up to his ass, where he grabs and digs his fingers in and pushes back against him.
“You sure?”
“Like you said, we can just go again.”
There’s a pause and another tiny thrust, and Steve sighs against Bucky’s neck. “Fuck. Okay. Okay.”
His arm tightens around Bucky’s chest, and he takes a few long breaths. And then he’s moving, slowly, drawing back, with his ass still clamped in Bucky’s grip, and oh, he’s not fucking around, because he pulls almost all the way out, muttering God, holy shit, oh God, and then he slides back in and groans into Bucky’s shoulder for two more thrusts, then he growls out a Fuck! and his cock is pulsing, his hips pressing in time against Bucky’s ass, and he muffles the rest of his incoherent pleasure against Bucky’s skin.
When the pulsing and groaning stops, then the apologies begin.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That was so fucking lame...”
Bucky loosens his grip on Steve’s ass and gives it a few pats. “It’s okay. That’s how it goes.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I pull out?”
“Sure.”
Steve hisses as he pulls out, and he rolls onto his back. Bucky rolls with him and immediately looks down at Steve’s deflating cock, at the squeaky clean condom that has only a modest amount of come in it.
“Wow. Holy shit,” Steve murmurs. “God, and I even jerked off twice today, once right before dinner.” He snorts. “How embarrassing.”
Bucky smiles and reaches over to stroke his cheek, tilting Steve’s head toward him. “Honestly, I would really question whether that was your first time, if you lasted much longer.”
“How does anybody do that?”
“You’ll get used to it,” Bucky murmurs.
Steve kisses him, eagerly, and his fingers find their way to Bucky’s stomach and lower, until they brush the tip of his cock. Steve takes him in his hand and starts slowly stroking him, and Bucky pulls in a breath through his nose and plunges his tongue deeper in Steve’s mouth with a moan. The two forces together are staggering, dangerously so, and, God, he could kiss Steve for— God— oh God— he doesn’t wanna come yet— doesn’t wanna stop—
But it stops. Steve stops.
“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Steve releases him and pecks him on the cheek.
He slides off the bed, carefully pulls off the condom, ties it off, and tosses it into the bedside trash. Bucky flops down flat on the mattress with a grunt. He listens as Steve walks to the bathroom, washes his hands, takes a piss, and washes his hands again. And then there’s silence. And it seems to stretch forever, long enough that Bucky loses his boner and starts to bite his lip. And when Steve comes back out, Steve’s dick is soft, too, but the rest of him is drawn bow-tight.
He sits down on the edge of the bed. His hands clamp on the edge of the mattress.
“I’m really sorry.”
Bucky sits up and rises to his knees, then scooches forward on them until he’s behind Steve. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and presses himself to his broad back.
“It’s seriously not a big deal,” Bucky murmurs against his temple. “I mean, I kinda take it as a compliment.”
There’s a puff of air, maybe the barest hint of a laugh. Steve grabs one of Bucky’s forearms where it’s crossed over his chest and holds it.
“So you’ve done that before?”
Steve’s words rumble against Bucky’s chest. The actual question is there, but with it, more unspoken ones about who Bucky has fucked in the ass and when and how many times. Bucky skims the fingers of his free hand along the ridge between Steve’s pecs, along the trail of blond hair that cuts through his abs and down further.
“Yeah, and it was the same for me. And he told me the same thing I told you. So this is just how it is when you stick your cock in a guy for the first time.”
“God, I mean, it’s not just tight, but you just— you’re sexy.” Steve brushes a hand against his own mostly-limp dick, touching it a little, then takes Bucky’s arm again. “It’s really just... a lot.”
Bucky trips down one hall of his memory, to his own rich embarrassment, his utter lack of self-control, the gentle laughter and assurance. He was way too drunk for it, anyway, but he was the only one who knew that.
Bucky slides in closer, until his dick presses against the small of Steve’s back. He reaches down further and circles his fingertip around Steve’s belly button.
“I just want to be good,” Steve tells him.
“I know. You will be.”
“It’s a lot of pressure.”
Bucky flattens his palm over Steve’s stomach and smooths over it. “It doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to blow my mind.”
Steve’s fingers curl tight into Bucky’s arm. “I wanna make you feel good.”
“You know, the more pressure you put on yourself, the harder it’s gonna be. And not in a good way.”
Bucky’s touch becomes a slow, featherlight skim down the darker blond trail that runs south of Steve’s abs. The muscles beneath him tense.
“And you make me feel good,” Bucky murmurs in his ear.
“Okay,” Steve breathes.
“Just relax.”
“Okay.”
Bucky holds him like that. Touches him. Takes his time. Rubs his back while Steve drops his head forward and tries to do as he’s told. Bucky kisses his neck and his shoulder and cheek and ear. Plays with his chest hair and pubes. Listens closely for the little changes in his breathing. Feels for them in his own body. Breathes him in — the smell of his soap and shampoo and cologne. Kisses him more, everywhere he can reach. Gets hard as he does it and presses his cock against him.
“Hey.” Steve turns his head to look back at him.
“Hmm?”
“Can I…”
“Can you what?”
“You know.”
“No, you gotta say it.” Bucky smiles.
Steve cranes his head back further to look at the thin space between their bodies, the gap where Bucky’s hard-on rests between them.
“I wanna blow you.” He looks Bucky in the eye, patently earnest, almost pleading. “Can I blow you?”
Bucky’s smile blooms wider. “No, sorry. I wanna save it. You’re gonna have to do it some other time.”
“Can I just blow you a little?” Steve holds his thumb and forefinger together, as if a partial blowjob could actually be measured that way.
“Nope.”
Steve sighs and lets his head fall back against Bucky’s chest. Steve closes his eyes as Bucky rakes his hands through Steve’s hair, slowly, over and over.
“You know what I’m gonna do someday? Someday soon?” Steve asks, still resting against Bucky’s chest while Bucky keeps petting him.
“Hm?”
“Take a day off work. When you’re not in class.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I’m gonna suck your cock. All day long.”
Bucky sputters.
“Oh yeah?”
“In the morning, we can take a shower together. I’ll suck your cock in there. Then we can have breakfast. I mean, I might be full, but you can have something.”
Bucky makes a small sound of doubt. “Well, you might need your strength. You should probably eat something, too.”
“Okay, maybe a little something. Then after, I’ll get under the table and suck your cock again. Just pull it out of your pants. Suck it. Then we can watch some TV. Whatever you want. I’ll suck it. I’ll just suck it for, like, an hour. However long the show is.”
Steve’s hand drifts down to shift his own cock, which has started to harden appreciably. He keeps his hand on it, loosely, as they continue talking.
Bucky brushes his thumbs along the clean-shaved, marble-cut line of Steve’s jaw. “This is gonna get really tired. All that sucking.”
“I’m very athletic, remember. My endurance is excellent. But still, yeah, I might need a nap after that. Then when I wake up, maybe we can go on the roof, and I can suck it up there.”
Yeah, right next to Mrs. Griffith’s tomato plants. “Maybe we should wait until it’s dark for that.”
“Good point. Later. Okay, where do you want me to suck it next?”
“I don’t even know. I’ve never—” Never had anyone want to do it so bad. Never had anyone beg him for it. Never had anyone do a lot of the things that Steve does. “You pick.”
Steve leans back heavy against him, eyes still closed. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll lie in bed. I’ll lie down on your pillow and you can just—” He gestures toward his face. “Kneel. Just stick it in. I’ll suck it. Just— fuck my face.”
Bucky focuses. Keeps all the bad out. Runs both hands down Steve’s chest. Feels everything he can as intently as he can. Every hair. Both nipples. He grinds himself against Steve’s back. Imagines how it would feel to kneel over his face and fuck himself into Steve’s hot mouth. While he laid there and took it. And fucking loved it. Begged for it—
“Holy fuck...” He grinds himself harder and grabs Steve’s pecs in both hands.
Steve wraps his hand around his dick and starts jerking himself. His lips part as his breathing picks up.
“I can fuck you with my finger and you can— you can fuck my face. Just fuck it.”
Steve gives a soft moan at his own suggestion and jerks himself faster.
“Mm, and you can come on me, if you want, all over me—”
Bucky has to yank his hips back, because it would only take a couple of half-hearted thrusts to blow his load all over Steve’s spine.
“Oh, shit—”
Steve squeezes his cock tight and sucks in a breath through his teeth. Then he opens his eyes with a smirk.
Bucky grabs a fistful of Steve’s hair and tilts his head back to look up at him. “You’re such a fucking perv.”
Steve wets his lower lip. “Sounds good though, right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Steve stands and turns around to face the bed, and he’s hard and jutting and magnificent. He swipes the condoms off the bed and rips one open.
“Okay, I wanna go again.”
“I can see that.”
Bucky kneels as tall as he can and takes the condom from him. He pulls it out, tosses the wrapper to the floor, and rolls it over Steve’s cock. The right way. When it’s on, he bends down and gives it one long suck, then straightens and gives a dark, longing look at the man who’s about to fuck him, the one who’s looking at him the same way until something shifts, something softens, and he takes Bucky’s face in both of his big, warm hands and leans down, until they’re so close—
Steve brushes their mouths together, lips just barely touching, and they breathe the same air, holding the moment just before its birth, and then Steve closes the whisper of distance between them, and they kiss, and it is sweet and it is good and Steve is kissing him and kissing him.
—
When Steve gets all the way in this time, there’s less swearing. But just like last time, he pulls out all the way and lubes himself up again. As soon as he gets balls-deep once more, he asks Bucky if he’s okay, and Bucky says he is, reflexively, but Jesus Christ, this has got to fucking stop.
“Okay, hang on for a sec.”
Steve does, mid thrust, perfectly controlled. “Are you all right?”
Bucky looks over his shoulder, hoping that Steve will see that he means it with the affection he intends. And, God, there have been so many shitbags he’s fucked who never seemed to give a passing thought to whether he was okay, let alone asked him if he was, so he should shut the fuck up about it. But he can’t, because this kindness is the boner-killing kind, and between the lube breaks and the caretaking, his flagging cock won’t stand much of a chance of revival.
“Listen to me— and I’m not trying to be an asshole but— stop asking. Please. I promise I will tell you if I’m not okay.”
The last thing he expects to see on Steve’s face is relief. But there it is, the unambiguous release of those serious creases that compose his worry. “Okay.”
“Just let go. I wanna feel that. I want that from you.”
Steve nods and kisses him, softly, then runs his warm hand down Bucky’s flank and hip, enjoying him a little more as he pushes in the rest of the way.
Bucky swallows, closes his eyes, and lies back down on Steve’s outstretched arm. His next words are so dry that they don’t even make it out of his throat.
I trust you, he mouths.
He repeats it twice.
Steve starts to move in earnest, slowly but without stopping, his apprehension draining away, and the oh Gods and the oh fucks start again, but they’re whispered, and they begin to echo in Bucky’s own voice, especially after he angles his hips back a little and lifts his leg more, and — oh God, there it is, fuck, yes, there it is — and Steve, Jesus, thank God, he hears it, he knows, and Steve pulls his leg back, over the outside of his own thigh, opening him up, oh, oh, holy fucking God, and Bucky moans, loud, because oh— God, that’s it, that is fucking it— and Steve’s arm is around him, so close but hitting him, God, just fucking right— and his cock is aching to be touched, fucking aching, and he jerks himself and Steve looks down— oh and he’s fucking watching and saying oh God oh my God Jesus fucking Christ— and he keeps going— and he doesn’t go faster like a fucking asshole, he just— keeps— going— just— perfect— just— he’s just— and then— oh no— and then he slows down, oh you fucker, oh fuck you, oh, he almost stops— but then Steve is tilting his head back and kissing him, kissing him and kissing him— moving so slow, so slow and deep, his breath coming hard from his nostrils, his hand tight around Bucky’s middle, holding him so close, kissing him and kissing him — holy shit— what the fuck— what the fuck is happening— And then he’s picking it up again, and their kisses are vocal and desperate and then not at all and then they’re just two open panting mouths, and Steve pulls him even closer, rolls back, fucking rolls both of them back, until Bucky’s splayed, head on Steve’s shoulder, half lying on Steve’s body, jerking himself— oh Jesus— Jesus— then Steve’s hand is there too— on top, together, then moving Bucky’s away— and oh God— he’s fucking him and jerking him and jerking him and breathing harsh in his ear— and Bucky can’t control the sounds coming out of him, the weak, whining, helpless moans Steve fucks and jerks out of him— eyes glazed, splayed and fucked open, and he’s so close— he’s so close— so— so close— he’s gonna fucking fly apart but he can’t— he— he can’t— oh God, he fucking wants to— wants to— his head lolls over, looks at Steve’s face— he’s close— he’s gonna come and— he’s gonna— fuck— fuck— oh, fuck— and he’s gonna— oh fuck— then it’s dark hot muggy a hand not Steve’s touching him touching him touching him oh God— oh God—
Bucky comes, crying out, ass tightening, shoving into Steve’s fist, each pulse of his orgasm wringing another little sound from him as Steve jerks him through it, until the waves finish slamming and he sags against the man underneath him, still hard inside his body.
“Did you—” Bucky murmurs, shifting.
Steve nuzzles the spot behind his ear. “Not yet.”
Bucky blinks up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, breath heaving. “You can— you can keep going.”
“It’s okay...”
And Steve waits, just holding him, just breathing and touching while Bucky sinks back into the room, bones dissolving, barriers collapsing.
Bucky looks down at the mess of come across his stomach and drags his fingers through it. He tilts his head back and offers them, and Steve takes them in his mouth and sucks them slowly from base to tip, groaning, and then he’s moving again—
“Oh God, can I just—”
“Yeah—”
Steve pulls out and guides Bucky back onto his side, where he can get better leverage. He slides back in, lifts Bucky’s leg, and fucks into him for a little while longer, muttering oh fuck, fuck, oh fuck, until he comes again with a rough shout. It’s a sound Bucky has heard from him before but never like this. Never holding onto him, never inside of him, never because of him, never with Steve’s trembling hand petting his sweat-damp hair afterward, kissing his shoulder, breath heavy against his cooling skin. Never.
None of this was ever supposed to happen.
—
Steve cleans up again. Ditches the condom. Neither of them has said anything since he pulled out. Bucky hasn’t even moved. He’s still on his side, on what might be becoming his side of the bed, looking toward the edge of the mattress but not seeing past it. He’s deep inside himself, his gears sticking, thoughts slamming into walls, all sense crumbling and slipping through his fingers. Steve pads back into the room, plank floors creaking under his steps, and the bed dips as he climbs onto it.
He moves in, his chest to Bucky’s back, his pelvis to Bucky’s ass. He nudges Bucky’s head with his bicep, and Bucky lifts it, lets Steve become his pillow again, and Steve’s other arm slides around him, drawing him close.
Steve kisses the nape of his neck.
“Are you okay?” he whispers against it.
Bucky nods incrementally.
“Was it okay?”
Bucky’s lips part, and any words that start to come evaporate. He has to find a way to speak it, to name this choking, aching fullness, the thing that Steve fucked into him or something, doesn’t even know how it happened, where it came from, but he can’t keep it alone. It’s too big, too raw and terrifying to have it all alone.
He swallows and finds Steve’s hand and pulls it to his chest, over his frantic heart. Then he lays his own hand over it, threading his fingers in-between Steve’s, and clasps it tight.
Steve presses another kiss to his neck and exhales.