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“I bought a toothbrush for you,” Alexei said.
Bucky stopped in the bathroom doorway.
He lived four doors down.
His eyes moved from Alexei to the little cup beside the sink. There it was, new and clean among Alexei’s things.
“It’s blue,” Alexei added.
Bucky looked at him.
“Well.” Alexei gave a small shrug, suddenly interested in straightening the hand towel. “You can stay now.”
There was something almost painfully earnest about it.
Bucky’s expression didn’t change much. It rarely did. But Alexei had begun to notice the smaller things—the way the line between his eyebrows eased, the slight lowering of his shoulders, the moments when his mouth stopped looking as though he were holding something back.
Alexei reached for him carefully.
His fingers settled against the back of Bucky’s neck and slipped beneath his hair, stroking once behind his ear.
Bucky stayed where he was.
Alexei was always careful like this outside the bedroom. In bed he was shameless about touching him, hands everywhere, pulling Bucky close as though there were no reason in the world not to. But afterward, in kitchens and bathrooms and hallways, some uncertainty returned to him. As though Bucky were a half-tamed animal that might disappear if he moved too quickly.
He wouldn’t.
Bucky wasn’t nearly as shy as everyone seemed determined to believe. He knew what he liked. He could say no. He could say yes. Most of the time, he simply didn’t feel the need to explain either.
“Thanks,” he said eventually.
Apparently that was the right response.
Alexei smiled.
Bucky pulled his shirt over his head and crossed back into the bedroom, dropping it over the arm of the chair.
Alexei followed him. He had showered. Shaved. Brushed his teeth. Combed his hair.
Bucky noticed all of it.
Alexei had even put on a clean shirt, which he now began unbuttoning again.
His eyes remained on Bucky.
The low bedside lamp caught along the familiar lines of Bucky’s body as he kicked off his boots. There were scars Alexei knew now and others he had never asked about.
“I bought new aftershave,” Alexei said.
Bucky glanced at him as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“I noticed.”
Alexei looked pleased. “You did?”
Bucky opened his belt. “I have a nose.”
“Yes, very beautiful nose.”
Bucky gave him a flat look.
Alexei grinned and came closer.
A moment later his hands were around Bucky’s face and he kissed him.
Bucky blinked once at the suddenness of it. Then his eyes closed.
That was another thing Alexei had learned: Bucky rarely reached first, but once touched, he leaned into it with an almost unconscious trust. Not desperation. Not even hunger, exactly.
Something quieter than that.
Alexei’s palm moved over his chest, broad and warm and roughened with old calluses, before his arm slipped around Bucky and drew him closer.
Bucky let himself go.
Just a little.
His head tilted, exposing his neck, and Alexei’s mouth found the place beneath his jaw.
Bucky breathed out slowly.
“Do you like it better?” Alexei murmured against his skin.
“The aftershave?”
“Yes.”
Bucky leaned back onto the mattress and looked up at him.
“You use a little much,” he whispered.
Alexei stared at him for half a second.
Then he laughed softly and lowered himself beside him.
Bucky turned his face away, but Alexei caught the faint movement at the corner of his mouth.
He kissed him again, slowly and thoroughly. Bucky opened his mouth when Alexei pressed closer, letting him deepen it without hesitation.
Alexei exhaled against him.
His hands still held Bucky securely, eager even when he was trying to be gentle. He still couldn’t quite believe Bucky let him do this. Wanted him to.
Him, of all people.
Bucky was so beautiful.
His face was beautiful. His body was beautiful. Alexei never thought twice about the arm or the scars except to remember where Bucky liked being touched and where he didn’t. They belonged to him as naturally as everything else did.
Alexei’s fingers brushed along his neck, then drifted slowly down his chest. His thumb passed over one nipple, followed the firm lines of his stomach, and finally his hands closed around Bucky’s hips as he shifted farther over him.
Bucky made a low humming sound.
Alexei stopped for half a second just to look at him.
“Какой же ты красивый,” he murmured.
Bucky’s eyes opened.
There was something almost embarrassed in them.
Alexei smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth.
Bucky exhaled through his nose and finally pushed the rest of his clothes away. Alexei did the same, stepping free of them before following him farther onto the bed.
Bucky opened the bedside drawer without asking.
Alexei watched him take out the bottle and place it between them with the ease of someone who had done this often enough to know where things were kept.
“Sit down,” Bucky said.
Alexei blinked.
Then, obediently, he shifted back against the headboard, pulling one of the pillows aside.
Bucky moved onto his knees.
He reached up and gathered his hair into one hand, holding it away from his face as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Alexei’s chest.
He had never really examined why this had begun with Alexei.
Maybe because Alexei was, in some strange way, the safest choice.
Not safe in the ordinary sense. Nothing about Alexei Shostakovich was particularly ordinary. He was loud, enormous, ridiculous, vain. He could fill an entire apartment with his voice and his opinions.
But when it came to feelings, he was harmless.
Bucky had known that almost immediately.
As soon as he had sought him out, offered the possibility, Alexei had wanted him, obviously. There hadn't been much mystery about that. But he didn’t seem to want anything from him.
No explanations.
No confession.
No careful conversation in which Bucky was expected to find the correct words for things he barely understood himself.
Who else would he have gone to?
A stranger?
The thought left him cold.
Sam?
Something sharp went through him before he could finish the thought.
No.
John—
Bucky’s mouth tightened.
Definitely not.
Alexei murmured something in Russian above him.
Bucky looked up.
Alexei’s eyes had fallen closed for a moment. When Bucky shifted closer, Alexei opened his legs farther without being asked.
One broad hand came to Bucky’s cheek.
The other settled against his back.
Not guiding.
Just there.
Bucky leaned into the touch for the smallest fraction of a second.
Alexei gave him a look.
He always noticed.
He murmured something in Russian again.
The words landed strangely softly.
Bucky looked down again before Alexei could see too much in his face.
He put his other hand on Alexei's hip and opened his mouth.
Alexei was so easy to please.
Not in a bad way. Not because he expected little, or because Bucky could get away with being careless. It was simply that Alexei never made him guess.
Every reaction was there. When Bucky took his dick into his mouth, Alexei let his head fall back against the headboard with a moan.
Bucky pressed his tongue against the underside and Alexei's thighs hardened.
Bucky stared ahead, letting his mind feel empty while he reduced himself to a single task. But there was still that hand on his back.
Warm.
Patient.
Certain.
The small click of the bottle opening sounded absurdly loud in the quiet room.
Then it was set aside.
The hand disappeared for a moment, then Alexei touched his ass, spread his cheeks. Cold lube smeared across the skin. Bucky spread his legs a little wider, pushed his hips a little more forward.
Alexei’s other hand came up and gathered Bucky’s hair for him, holding it gently away from his face.
Bucky glanced up.
Alexei didn’t seem to realize there was anything particularly tender about the gesture. His attention was elsewhere, his breathing already uneven, but his fingers stayed careful where they rested against the back of Bucky’s head.
Bucky looked down again.
That was another thing about Alexei.
For all his size, all the noise he made, all the ridiculous boasting, he could be unexpectedly gentle without turning gentleness into an event.
Bucky exhaled and put his other hand down on the mattress.
One finger pushed into him. Bucky closed his eyes.
“I am very lucky man,” Alexei whispered. He pulled out and circled the tight muscle for a little while before pushing in again.
His touch stayed slow and deliberate, patient enough that Bucky could settle into it instead of thinking too hard about what came next.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Apparently he would never tire of saying that.
Bucky had stopped trying to argue.
“You know what you do to me?”
Bucky exhaled through his nose and moved a little faster, deliberately winding him up. His head moved fast back and forth.
Alexei’s hand tightened in his hair.
Not roughly. Not possessively.
Overwhelmed.
Bucky knew the difference.
A second finger pressed into him. It stayed there, letting him get used to it.
He shifted back into Alexei’s other hand, accepting the added pressure with a quiet breath, Alexei’s steady hold on his hair anchoring him.
Alexei made a low sound.
Then, abruptly, his grip loosened.
Bucky’s hair fell around his face again.
He glanced up.
“Stop. Stop,” Alexei said softly.
One broad hand caught Bucky’s cheek and guided him upward.
“That’s enough. I want it to last.”
There was something almost sheepish in the admission.
Bucky let himself be pulled closer.
Alexei kissed him.
Bucky opened his mouth without hesitation, and Alexei drew him in until there was hardly any space left between them.
For a moment, the urgency went out of him altogether.
He just held Bucky there, kissing him slowly, one hand warm against his face.
Then Alexei reached for the lube again.
For a moment, Bucky expected Alexei to stay like this—seated, maybe lying back. Bucky could have climbed over him, taken the lead, ridden him until neither of them was thinking about anything beyond the immediate chase of pleasure.
It would have been easy.
Instead, after a moment, Bucky pulled away.
He lowered himself slowly onto his back.
The movement did exactly what he had intended.
Alexei went very still.
Bucky watched him watching.
Then he settled fully against the mattress and let his legs fall open for him, unhurried and unmistakable.
Alexei’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
His cheeks were already flushed.
For once, he seemed to have absolutely nothing to say.
“My God,” Alexei breathed.
Bucky’s mouth twitched.
Alexei reached into the drawer again and tore open a condom.
Bucky watched him put it on.
One day, maybe, he could ask him not to.
The thought came quietly.
One day, maybe they would choose each other completely. Maybe there would be enough certainty between them that Bucky wouldn’t have to wonder what this was, or how long it would last.
One day.
But this was still new.
And he wanted Alexei close now.
That had been the whole point of this, hadn’t it?
Alexei crawled after him. He shifted between his knees. His hands settled on Bucky’s thighs, warm and steady. Then came the small click of the bottle opening again.
Alexei looked at him.
“Okay?”
Bucky nodded.
Alexei didn’t move immediately.
His thumb stroked once over Bucky’s skin. Then he poured more lube into his hand, spread it over his erection, and hissed.
Probably because it was cold.
He leaned in. Bucky tilted his hips up a little.
Alexei got into position, holding his dick until the tip slipped into Bucky and he gave a low groan.
Alexei watched between them, pushed his hips and swore under his breath. He looked up at Bucky's face, then leaned forward and pushed in all the way.
Bucky put his head back and moaned.
Yes.
The weight settled over him. Warmth and pressure and the solid presence of Alexei’s body around his, close enough that Bucky didn’t have to feel alone anywhere inside himself.
“God, James,” Alexei whispered. “So perfect. So… lovely.”
He pushed in once more.
Bucky exhaled and nodded once.
It occurred to him, distantly, that he had barely said a word through any of this.
He didn’t need to.
His skin felt hot. His thoughts had gone pleasantly slow, stripped down to simple things: Alexei’s breathing, the mattress beneath him, the hands braced on either side of his shoulders.
Alexei held himself above him at first, giving him space even now.
He pulled out, pushed in. Gave them both some time to get used to it.
Then he bent down and kissed him.
Bucky met him halfway.
Whatever careful distance Alexei had been trying to keep disappeared little by little. He found a steady rhythm between them, unmistakably enjoying himself, every so often breaking the kiss just far enough to look at Bucky as though he still couldn’t quite believe he was there.
Bucky let his eyes fall closed.
Alexei kissed him again.
Eventually, Bucky gave in to the thing he had wanted most from the beginning.
He wrapped his legs around Alexei’s hips and pulled him closer.
Alexei moaned softly.
The thrusts made him shift on the mattress. Alexei's grip kept him still, pinned beneath him.
One hand still held Bucky’s shoulder, steady and warm. His face was buried against Bucky’s neck now, his breathing hot and uneven against his ear.
Bucky kept his eyes closed.
His arms tightened around him—one across Alexei’s back, the other cradling the back of his head.
Yes.
This.
He wanted to hear him. Wanted the warmth of him, the weight, the closeness.
Wanted to be held.
Not carefully.
Not from a distance.
Held tightly enough that there was no room left for loneliness.
“Yes,” Bucky whispered.
Then, a little louder, “Yes.”
He felt Alexei react immediately.
It made him happy.
Bucky knew that.
“That’s it,” he made himself say.
Alexei gave a low, helpless sound and kissed his cheek.
Bucky tightened his arms around him.
He didn’t say anything else.
He didn’t have to.
Bucky began moving with him, lifting his hips just enough to meet Alexei each time. Pressing against him.
Eventually, Alexei found exactly the right angle.
Bucky’s mouth opened on a sharper breath, almost a moan.
Alexei noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He repeated the movement with deliberate precision and was rewarded by Bucky’s fingernails pressing suddenly into his back.
Alexei’s breath caught.
He was enhanced too, capable of keeping the same steady rhythm even after Bucky had spent so long winding him up. But endurance was becoming increasingly irrelevant when Bucky kept reacting like that.
Before long, they were both holding on to each other.
Bucky’s legs remained locked around him, keeping him close. Alexei’s restraint had begun to fray now, his movements less measured as he chased the pleasure building between them while still trying to give Bucky exactly what he wanted.
He buried his face against Bucky’s neck.
Bucky’s hand tightened at the back of his head. Then his teeth caught Alexei’s shoulder—not enough to hurt, just enough to make Alexei groan against his skin.
After that, neither of them had much language left.
Only breath.
Small sounds swallowed against skin.
Hands gripping tighter whenever the other threatened to drift even an inch away.
Bucky felt the pressure building behind his eyes first.
It was always the same.
He had to let himself go before his body would follow.
He was getting better at that too.
There were no strained, almost pained sounds anymore when he finally stopped holding himself so tightly together. No instinctive fight against the feeling when it became too much.
A small sound still escaped him.
The tension broke loose and moved through him all at once.
His legs loosened around Alexei, falling open as the last of his control slipped away.
Alexei moaned openly and held him tighter.
The movement between them continued, and one final surge was enough to push Bucky completely over the edge.
He moaned.
His head fell back against the pillow, throat exposed, and his metal hand caught blindly at the blanket beside him, twisting the fabric tight in his fist.
For a few seconds there was nothing to manage.
Nothing to watch.
Nothing to hold back.
Just Alexei’s weight above him and the sound of his own breathing returning slowly to normal.
Alexei followed not long after.
For him, letting go seemed easier.
He had made Bucky happy. He knew that much. Had felt it in the way Bucky had held on to him, heard it in the sounds he had finally stopped trying to swallow.
And somehow, impossibly, there was still this beautiful man beneath him, letting Alexei touch him, hold him, have all of this.
The thought alone nearly undid him.
Alexei’s rhythm finally broke. He moaned openly against Bucky’s skin as the tension went out of him, his movements slowing until there was nothing urgent left in them.
Then he stopped.
For half a second he remained braced above Bucky, breathing hard.
After that, apparently deciding his arms had done enough work for one evening, Alexei simply let himself sink down.
All of him.
Bucky gave a muffled grunt as he was pressed firmly into the mattress beneath him.
Alexei buried his face against his neck and exhaled, long and satisfied.
Bucky lay there under the considerable weight of a very pleased super soldier.
Strangely, he didn’t mind at all.
Bucky let Alexei catch his breath.
The need to hold on so tightly had gone as suddenly as it had come.
And then there it was.
The awkward part.
Bucky wished there weren’t always these few strange minutes after sex, when the room seemed too quiet and neither person quite knew what shape to take around the other. But they were always there.
Alexei exhaled one last time and pushed himself up onto his arms.
“You… want water?”
“Sure.”
Alexei nodded.
He grunted when he got to his feet and disappeared toward the kitchen.
Bucky slowly sat up.
The mattress shifted beneath him. He rubbed one hand over his face and pushed his hair back, waiting for the pleasant heaviness in his body to turn into ordinary tiredness.
Without Alexei on top of him, the bed suddenly felt enormous.
Bucky looked toward the open bedroom door.
He could leave.
Or he could use that toothbrush.