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"I didn't think staying with you was going to mean sleeping on the couch," Bucky mutters into Sam's ear.
"Come on," Sam murmurs. "Gotta set a good example for the kids." He shrugs helplessly. "Not so much the 'uncle Sam's got a boyfriend' thing, more like, 'save it till you get married'."
"Because that works," Bucky grumbles. Sam stacks up sheets, blankets, and pillows into Bucky's arms, and he and Bucky go back downstairs to get the couch set up.
"Got everything you need?" Sarah asks. "I can rustle up some more pillows if you need them."
"This is more than enough, really," Bucky says. Sarah smirks at him. Bucky glances from her to Sam, and Sam laughs. "Oh, okay, so everybody knows, we just can't--"
"Put a ring on it and you can share any bed in the house," Sarah says over her shoulder. "'Scuse me, gotta get my boys tucked in."
"Put a--" Now it's Bucky's turn to give Sam a helpless look.
"Uh-huh, I didn't think you were ready for that talk," Sam says.
"No." Bucky concentrates on getting the sheets tugged to military neatness, not a wrinkle showing. Poor guy. When he'd said he didn't want to make it weird for Sam's family, Sam has a feeling he didn't see all this coming. Sarah's not what he'd call a matchmaker, but she knows what Sam looks like when he's got it bad for somebody, and it's been a long time since he was hung up on somebody like he is with Bucky.
Still, it's early days yet. The two of them only came to terms with being more than occasional fuckbuddies a little while back, and then shit started hitting the fan and didn't stop. Having a few days to wind down and recharge at home has been great for Sam; he wasn't expecting it to be as good for Bucky as it has been, but he's not mad about it.
"Don't worry," Sam says, coming up behind Bucky and nipping at the back of his neck. "I don't have any intentions of making an honest man out of you."
"I'm not dishonest," Bucky says, turning around and looping his arms around Sam's waist. "I just don't want to rock the boat. Not after we've spent all this time fixing it."
"Mmm. Corny. But I like it," Sam laughs. He leans in and murmurs in Bucky's ear, "Besides, we can always sneak you into my room after everybody goes to sleep."
"Now we're talking," Bucky says. He pulls Sam a little closer, and rubs up a couple times. Sam reaches down to cup Bucky's ass, and Bucky lets out a soft growl, putting his lips on Sam's neck and kissing his way down to Sam's shoulder.
"You're so damn greedy," Sam murmurs.
"Never claimed I wasn't. So how long do we have to wait before you sneak me upstairs?"
"Once the kids are down."
"So another..."
"Twenty minutes, max." Sam draws back. "One thing, though."
"Yeah?" Bucky does not look like he wants to listen to anything; he looks like he's considering dropping down to his knees right here in the living room. Sam reaches up and grips the back of his neck, which gets Bucky's attention, but maybe doesn't fix the Bucky-wants-to-be-on-his-knees problem.
The tragic life of Sam Wilson: dealing with a boyfriend who's finally getting what he wants in bed on a regular basis, and what he wants is for Sam to put him on the floor. It's a wonder Sam's back hasn't given out, truly.
"Hang on. The bed, Buck."
"Nineteen minutes and counting."
"It creaks like hell."
Bucky pauses and thinks that over, eventually shrugging. "How about the floor?"
"It's an old house, the floor's not much better."
"Huh." Bucky frowns. "I mean-- we can be quiet, right?"
"Guess we'll see."
Bucky is willing to wait twenty minutes and not a second longer. Sam rolls his eyes as he shoves Bucky into his bedroom, closing the door behind them and slipping the lock closed. A dedicated sibling can get that lock jimmied in exactly no time flat, so it only does so much good, but at least it'll buy them time, assuming one of them hears the lock rattle.
"God, get over here," Bucky says, grabbing Sam and pulling him toward the bed. Bucky falls on it, dragging Sam down on top of him, and the bed makes a sound like a wounded T-rex. Bucky goes still, eyes bugging out, and Sam shakes his head.
"Did I tell you or did I tell you?" Sam whispers. Bucky nods. "So move slow."
Moving slowly doesn't mean the bed doesn't creak at all, but it cuts the noise down by more than half. Sam half-drags, half-coaxes Bucky up to lying down lengthwise on the bed, the only reasonable way they'll both fit-- this room can't hold more than a double bed, which was fine when Sam was a kid, but is a little tougher now that he's trying to put both himself and his super-soldier-cyborg boyfriend into it. He straddles Bucky's thighs and sits up, shifts until there are no more creaks, and strips off his shirt.
"Yeah," Bucky breathes. "Let me--"
When he tries to sit up long enough to get his own double layer of shirts off, the bed creaks again, and Sam has to press his lips together in order not to laugh.
"Fuck," Bucky says. "Just get up. Get up and we'll get our clothes off before we get in bed."
"Sure, fine," Sam says, and he peels himself off Bucky's thighs and stands next to the bed, wincing when Bucky gets up, too, and the bed makes more groaning dinosaur sounds.
"I'm getting you a new fucking bed," Bucky whispers, stripping out of his pants and everything else. He throws the covers back and gets back in bed, going slow as he settles down on his back, legs spread wide, reaching down to get a hand on his cock. Miraculously, despite all the creaking and the annoyance, Bucky's still hard, and he lets his eyes roam over Sam's body as Sam gets undressed.
Sam slips under the covers with Bucky, lying down between Bucky's legs-- hey, if the man's going to make a space, Sam's going to take it. When he's lying perfectly still across Bucky's body, the bed stays silent. Even the slightest bit of motion starts the creaking again.
"How the hell are we going to do this," Bucky hisses.
"I told you!"
Bucky's not one to give up without a fight, though. He gets his legs up, and the slower he moves, the less creaking they have to deal with, so he's achingly, maddeningly slow, his calves sliding up Sam's legs, knees pressing in against Sam's hips, until finally he's bent up enough to have Sam's cock resting in the cleft of his ass. Sam grins down at him, and Bucky tries rocking his hips.
The creak is loud enough to make both of them wince. Sam moves, gentle and easy, and his cock slides against Bucky's cleft-- oh, fuck, yeah-- and the motion's a tease, but it doesn't start the bed making wake-the-family-up noises. He tries it again, and the creak's still quiet enough they can get away with it.
A little harder the next time. He has to stop right away; it's too loud.
"So that's about as much as I can give you," Sam murmurs, leaning down to press kisses to Bucky's cheek, moving down to the side of his neck.
Bucky curses a blue streak and gets his arms around Sam's back. "Not enough," he says.
"If you weren't so goddamn greedy about getting your ass pounded--"
"Hey, it's not the only thing I like," Bucky whispers. "I could suck you off..."
"Which I love, don't get me wrong," Sam says, "but I've been watching you work on my boat all damn day, I really wanted to get a piece of this." He has to force himself to stay slow, moving his hips against Bucky's ass, getting a few of those light, teasing strokes in.
"Fuck," Bucky gasps. "You're gonna kill me."
"What if I--" Sam reaches down between them, gets his hand on Bucky's cock. Bucky drops his head against the pillow and lets out a moan that's even louder than the damn bed.
"You are gonna wake up the whole house," Sam hisses, reaching up with his other hand to clamp down against Bucky's mouth.
It blunts the sounds he's making, but it also makes Bucky's eyes go wide. His dick jerks against Sam's forearm, and the way Bucky's cheeks shift and try to clench against Sam's cock, Sam can tell it's got his full attention.
Huh. How about that.
"Oh, yeah?" Sam breathes. He gives Bucky's cheeks a light squeeze, along with another thrust against his ass. Bucky closes his eyes and arches-- another creak-- and relaxes again, the bed going mercifully silent.
"Maybe we can make this work after all," Sam grins. He takes his hand off Bucky's cock, and Bucky glares up at him. "Look, you want a handie or do you want this?" He shakes Bucky's face, gently, and Bucky's cock jerks against Sam's abs, body clenching up underneath him again, and that tells Sam what he needs to know.
"Yeah," Sam says, settling down a little bit, "if I could, I'd tie you up just like this. You look damn good in my bed. I've got some neckties..."
Bucky raises both eyebrows and cuts his eyes over toward the mirror in the corner, where a few stray neckties are draped over the top. The pleading look in his eyes almost gets to Sam, but then they'd have to start all over, and things are just now picking up.
"Naw," Sam says, letting the full Louisiana drawl out for effect, "better not. First, it's one thing if we get walked in on, but imagine we get walked in on and I got you all tied up. I do not want that image in my family's brains, thanks." He smirks. "When I do tie you up, that's all for me, baby."
Bucky's expression goes disappointed, and he deploys those pleading eyes on Sam again. Fuck. It's damn close to impossible to say no to those eyes, and Bucky knows it.
"Besides, if I get you too excited and you're tied up, you're gonna either ruin my ties or wreck my bedframe, and that'll wake everybody up and send them running over."
This clearly tracks for Bucky, who nods and sighs and settles back against the pillows.
"Doesn't stop me thinking about it, though. You want the truth, I've thought about tying you up with a hell of a lot more than neckties."
Another curious look, with raised eyebrows. Sam's enjoying the hell out of this, trying to interpret Bucky's thoughts with nothing but the upper part of his face to work with. And from the way Bucky's cock is still hard against Sam's abs, he can tell it's working just fine for Bucky, too.
"How about some of those super-strength magnetic cuffs? I could get you up against a wall, or flat on the floor, either way. And while we're just talking about it, how about we agree they'd actually keep you there? Even you. Even as strong as you are."
Bucky shifts his hips, rubbing his cock against Sam, and the bed creaks reproachfully. Bucky growls; Sam laughs softly.
"So I've got you on the floor in mag cuffs. What do you think, you think you'd beg me to let you out of there? Or just see what's in store for you?"
This one needs an answer, so Sam moves his hand. Bucky licks his lips. "What would do it for you?" Bucky asks.
"Oh, if we're talking about what would do it for me..." Sam eases himself down, puts his lips at Bucky's ear. "How about if you're begging me not to let you up."
Bucky groans. He reaches up to the bedrails, tie or no tie, and holds on, not too hard. Sam glances up at his hands. "Don't wreck the bed," he warns.
"Hey, if you can't wreck me--"
"You think I can't? I bet I can make you feel it even if all I do is talk."
Bucky takes a few slow, shuddered breaths. "Yeah," he whispers, "I bet you can."
Sam slides his hand up Bucky's leg, and if he's slow, he can do it without making the bed creak. That's nice; slow suits what they're getting up to, here.
"Okay," Sam goes on. "So you're begging me not to let you up, because if I let you up, it's all over. And you're aching for it."
"Trying to imagine what that would be like," Bucky says. "Oh, right, like this." He squeezes Sam's hips with his legs, and Sam gives Bucky another one of those teasing light thrusts. "Fuck."
"Maybe I'm an asshole," Sam starts.
"I can definitely imagine what that would be like."
Sam rolls his eyes. "I mean," he says, "maybe I'm an asshole and I've been keeping you around because you're a seriously hot fuck."
Bucky swallows hard and goes completely quiet, totally still. Sam can feel his cock, trapped in between them, can feel how Bucky's cock jerks against Sam's abs, a rush of something slick... Sam moves his hand, puts it around Bucky's cock and strokes, gentle. "Oh, baby, that gets you off something good, huh? You're leaking for me."
"You're an asshole and I'm a hot fuck, keep going," Bucky breathes. "You've got a place where you do this. Where you're keeping me."
It's Sam's turn to groan, rocking his hips forward to get more than just that light contact with Bucky's ass. Fuck, the bed-- it groans, and something happens to the headboard that makes it creak, too. Sam looks up. Bucky's hands are tight, both of them, the metal one included.
"Watch it," Sam warns.
"Keep going," Bucky says, squirming underneath Sam. "I'm there, I'm cuffed to the floor. I've been waiting for you all goddamn day. You're a total asshole and I can't stand being trapped, but when you put your hands on me all I want is to have you fuck me, open me up and hurt me."
"Oh my God, Buck, goddamn."
Sam can feel the way Bucky's chest is moving underneath him, how this is getting Bucky hot enough that he's breathing hard and heavy. Sam tries to imagine this scenario, pictures it in his head. Bucky on the floor, mag cuffs, maybe some blankets so he doesn't get cold...
"You don't get clothes," Sam says. "I gave you blankets, but you're there for me, I'm not gonna let you get dressed. When I want to fuck you, I don't want to have to wait."
"You better keep me plugged, then. Something to keep me all lubed up and ready to fuck."
"Okay," Sam says. He tries shifting again, he's so close to being able to lift up just a little and have both their cocks in his hand-- but once again, the bed cockblocks him, squealing loud and high-pitched when he tries to change positions. "Shit. This fucking bed, man--"
"I liked-- I like metal," Bucky says, holding still so he doesn't set the bed off again. But his cock jerks in Sam's hand again, another drip of pre-come slicking Sam's fingers. "There's other stuff that works. But metal's my favorite."
Sam's eyes damn near cross. "Are we still talking about the fantasy, or do I need to order some metal butt plugs?"
"I mean," Bucky says, staring up at Sam for a second. "If you'd-- want that."
"Hell yes, I'd want that."
"Okay, I'll order them, you just-- go back to talking, I was cuffed up and you had a metal plug in me--"
"Yeah," Sam says. He takes a deep breath. "Am I gone a lot? You just have to wait there for me to get back?"
"Yeah," Bucky says. "You're gone a lot, and sometimes when you get back, you're-- rougher than usual. Mean."
That's it, Sam's a damn ghost. He can almost feel himself floating outside his body, he's so turned on. He squeezes Bucky's cock, and Bucky lets out a hint of a moan, but he bites down hard on his lip to stop it from getting out. Sam strokes Bucky's cock again, smearing pre-come all over his palm, and he's going to start leaking himself at this rate, damn. "And I've got this trussed-up man waiting for me, and if I'm mean--"
"Then I just have to take it."
Sam moans, bending his head down-- damn the noise-- and sinking his teeth into Bucky's shoulder. Bucky's breath stutters as he struggles to keep still. "Fuck," Bucky groans, "you're good with this?"
"If we were somewhere I could move, I'd have your arm twisted up behind your back and I'd be making you scream, I'm so good with this." Honesty compels him to add, "I mean, don't be stupid, I'm not gonna cuff you to the fucking floor and leave you alone in my evil fuck lair, but--"
"Right, got it, good, fine," Bucky says, nudging Sam with his shoulder. "Am I screaming? Do you still want me begging you not to stop, or--"
"Or," Sam says, and he reaches up again and puts his hand on Bucky's mouth. "Or I just pull that plug out, start fucking you, cover up your mouth so you can scream all you want."
Bucky doesn't scream, but he moans a lot louder than he's been willing to do with his mouth uncovered. It's so good, that sound, the way Bucky feels underneath Sam-- solid and hot and into every single thing they're doing, every word Sam's saying, and that ass, damn. Sam teases Bucky some more with a few more thrusts, gets his hand in rhythm with it, until Bucky squeezes Sam's hips a little too tight with his legs, and Sam pushes down hard, and the bed groans, something inside the mattress making a sound like a guitar string going twang.
They both stop cold, looking to the door. Sam gets his hand off Bucky's mouth, pulls his hand up from where he was jerking Bucky off, and Bucky gasps, hands coming off the bedrails so he can grab Sam and try to shove Sam down against him. "No, fuck, no, don't stop, don't-- fuck," Bucky pants, the bed making horrible squeaking noises in time with his begging. It's ridiculous, and Sam's never wanted to get his dick into someone so badly in his entire adult life.
He pushes down hard and solid, cock pressed against Bucky's cleft, trying to pin the man to the mattress with nothing more than solid glute strength. Fortunately, Sam's got a lot of that-- his legs are strong as hell, too-- and when Bucky's pinned down good, the squeaking stops.
"Fuck, Sam," Bucky whispers, "fuck, I wish you were inside me right now."
"I'm gonna die. This is how it ends for me, Buck. I might already be dead."
"Are you sure we can't try it on the floor--?"
"The way I'm feeling right now, I think we'd break the floor."
Bucky tips his head up and puts his teeth on Sam's shoulder, biting down just enough to make Sam think he's going to lose his mind. His vision blurs out; he's so turned on he can barely take a solid breath.
"So," Bucky says softly, "there's some shit I've been keeping to myself."
"Yeah?" Sam struggles to get back to a position where he can look at Bucky's face, all while hearing his bed make noise around them. He could swear it didn't make this much noise when he was sleeping in it alone, but they're asking a lot more of it, what with Bucky's full body weight added to Sam's.
"Things I'd want," Bucky says. "If I didn't think it would scare you off."
The throb between Sam's legs is not helping him with this conversation. "Right now you could tell me you want me to dress up like an actual falcon while I fuck you and it probably wouldn't scare me off," Sam says.
Bucky laughs and tightens his arms around Sam for a minute, pressing his face to Sam's shoulder and letting out a long breath. "I want--"
He doesn't say it. Sam lets the bed lay out some more commentary while he shifts his body again, a little less pressure against Bucky's ass, a little more room to look him in the eyes. He strokes his hand through Bucky's hair and leans up to kiss Bucky's forehead. The bed only sort of sounds like a wounded rhino, and Sam figures it's worth it.
"You can tell me," Sam murmurs. "I promise, Buck. I won't judge."
"If you--" Bucky stops again. It's going to take some patience to get through this, but being patient doesn't make the bed squeak, and taking some time for this means they won't make any stupid decisions like fucking until the bed breaks and Sam's nephews come running to ask what happened. "I don't want to get into why, okay?"
"We don't need to get into why," Sam agrees.
"But if you--" Bucky bites his lip again and looks up at the ceiling, blinking a few times. "If we were playing with something." His voice goes so low Sam can barely hear it; Sam stops breathing so he doesn't miss a word. "Like we were just talking about. You're in charge, and you tell me to do something. And I'm fighting you on it. But maybe you tell me to do it with just the--" He looks at Sam. "Just the right-- words," Bucky says, careful, his eyebrows drawn together in that look Sam cannot fucking say no to, his defenses all useless against it. "And I have to do it anyway."
Sam has to actually tell himself to start breathing again, after that. "Wow," he says softly.
"Good wow...?"
"Yeah, good wow. Good wow."
"We don't have to," Bucky says, but his eyes are still pleading, and it comes out like something you just say when you're supposed to. I'm good, how are you? No, it's no trouble at all. Gesundheit.
"We don't have to do anything we're not ready for," Sam says. "You can put that on the table and pull it back if it doesn't feel right later on. Like I said, I'm not judging."
Bucky nods. "Okay."
"But if you want it, I'd go there with you. Not like a favor, but because it would be hot as fuck. You get me?"
"I get you," Bucky says. He exhales. "That got deep."
"A little bit."
"Too deep to go back to..." Bucky pauses and stretches his arms back up above his head, curling his fingers around the bedrails again. The bedrails squeak. "What did you call it? Your evil fuck lair."
Sam has to bury his face against Bucky's chest to keep the laugh from getting loud, and the way his shoulders shake, the bed makes a quiet series of squeaks. "My evil fuck lair," he says, and since he's got his face on Bucky's chest, he puts his mouth to work and licks over to Bucky's nipple, drawing a slow circle around it with his tongue.
"Oh, fuck," Bucky groans. "Am I supposed to start begging?"
"Nah. Won't make a bit of difference either way. You get what you get."
"Yeah," Bucky whispers, and he flashes Sam a smile. "So tell me what I get."
The shift in position from when they were talking earlier means Sam only has to roll the dice on loud bedspring noises once to get where he wants to go, and it's worth it in order to move up, just a little, and line his dick up with Bucky's. He gets his hand around both of them and starts stroking, and just like that he's all the way back in it, close enough that he's biting back his own sounds. "What you get," Sam murmurs, "is my tongue up your ass. You don't want me that close to you, you tell me to go fuck myself, but I'm getting you wet and nasty, not even bothering to tell you to shut up."
Bucky squeezes his eyes shut tight. "Jesus, Sam, yeah."
"You keep telling me to fuck off, and meanwhile you're shaking, you want it so bad."
Sam can see the way Bucky's arms tense and relax, tense and relax, as he tightens his hands on the bedrails and just as quickly realizes he can't trust his own strength. "I do," he moans, trying to stay quiet, "God, I do, but I'm not gonna-- you can't make me beg for it, I don't give a fuck what you do to me..."
"If you're not gonna beg, maybe I can find something else for you to do with that pretty mouth."
"Fuck!" Bucky twists underneath Sam, and the bedrails move, something snapping in the bedframe. "Sam--"
Sam reaches up and pulls Bucky's hand away from the bedrails, lacing his fingers together with Bucky's, and he's jacking them both fast now, squeaking noises be damned. He dips his head and licks Bucky's lower lip, then kisses him, and Bucky's metal arm comes down around Sam's shoulders, pulling him close. The sound almost gets swallowed up when Sam comes, mouth pressed hard against Bucky's, but there's still a little of it out in the room, and Bucky makes his own rough noise, right hand tight on Sam's. Sam keeps going, even though he's starting to get sensitive, because slicking his come all over Bucky's cock is worth it.
"You feel that," he whispers, "you feel how goddamn good you are, Buck, what you do for me--"
Bucky shuts him up with another kiss, but this time it's because he's got to let those sounds out somewhere, and giving them to Sam mouth-to-mouth is the only move he's got. He comes with moan after moan, all of them spent against Sam's lips, and Sam kisses him back, slowing his hand down as he slows down the pace of all those kisses.
By the time he gets his hand out from between them, Bucky's gone totally relaxed underneath him, face clear of all its stress and any hint that he's ever had a worry in his life. Sam soaks that up, squeezing Bucky's hand gently and smiling when he gets a squeeze back in return.
It would be so easy to fall asleep here, on top of Bucky, no matter how much the bed and the frame laugh at Sam for even considering it. The idea of making Bucky sleep downstairs alone after all this kind of makes Sam ache.
But Bucky makes the call for them, pushing gently at Sam's shoulder. "I need to get cleaned up," he murmurs. "Good news is, we didn't ruin your sheets."
"Please, I've been sleeping on these sheets since I was fourteen. They're not afraid of anything."
Bucky laughs softly as they both get up; he digs a rag out of his jeans pocket and does a pretty good job cleaning up, considering.
It makes something go soft and sort of melted in Sam's chest. "I wish you didn't have to go," he says softly.
"We'll live," Bucky reassures him, reaching out to squeeze Sam's shoulder. He pulls today's clothes on; Sam turns to his open suitcase and digs out a soft grey t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants. Sam's got the pants on and is halfway into his shirt when Bucky says, "Sam?"
"Hm?"
"If I did end up in somebody's evil fuck lair, I'd want it to be yours."
Sam almost strangles himself with his own shirt trying to stifle his laugh, and when he finally drags it all the way over his head, Bucky's standing there with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, which is completely unfair of the man. Sam reaches out and pulls Bucky in by the shirt, planting another kiss on him now that the bed can't give them away.
He can't resist going downstairs with Bucky and making sure he's got everything he needs-- not to say tucking him in, he's a grown-ass man. But Sam does leave one more soft kiss on his lips before he goes back upstairs, and he probably would've left more if he weren't starting to feel a yawn coming on.
At the top of the stairs, Sarah's standing there with a knowing look on her face. "How's he settling in?"
"He's doing fine."
"Do I need to tell AJ and Cass to give him space in the morning?" She pauses. "I know some of your boys wake up kind of rough."
"I think he's gonna be okay here," Sam says. "I wouldn't have brought him home if I didn't trust him to be safe with you."
"Okay." She smirks. "We should probably get you a new bed sometime."
"Oh my God, don't even go there--"
"Seeing as how you two couldn't skip one damn night--"
"Mind your business--"
"But I like him, Sam."
Sam stops short. "You do?"
"You're good together." She rests her hand on his shoulder and squeezes. "Good night."
"Good night."
Sam puts up with the creaks and squeaks as he climbs into bed alone. You're good together.
They are. Sam's hoping they'll be good together for a long time to come.