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the orbit of your hips

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Steve pushes open the door to his apartment and rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen the knots after a long few days of fighting and worrying. He knows he should probably eat but mostly what he wants to do is sleep. He's not sure how long he's been awake, and it's been even longer since he's seen his bed, and he's looking forward to the reunion.

He doesn't expect it to be occupied when he gets to it, so it's kind of a shock to find Bucky there, naked and touching himself, slick fingers slipping down between his legs, brushing over his hard cock and then moving lower so he can circle his hole before pushing them inside. His body is a long, sweat-sheened jumble of curves and lines as he fucks himself on his hand, skin glimmering pale gold in the light of the bedside lamp. His mouth is bitten red and glistening, lips parted slightly on a gasp as his hips move.

Steve's exhaustion drains away, all the nerves in his body sparking like live wires in the rain, and he has to fight to get a breath past the sudden tightness in his throat.

"Jesus, Bucky." His voice is rough and already needy.

Bucky's eyes flutter open and his mouth curves in a knowing, wicked grin. "Was just thinking about you." He doesn't stop what he's doing, though. He just curls his other hand around his cock, the metal looking dangerous against such vulnerable skin, and strokes, letting out a soft little moan.

"Yeah?"

Bucky's eyes close again and he bites down hard on his lower lip, teeth white and even in the swollen red flesh. "Mmm hmm."

Steve shucks his boots as quickly as he can and climbs onto the bed, his hands itching for the feel of Bucky's skin beneath them. He slides his hands up Bucky's thighs, muscles firm and hair tickling his palms, and bites at his mouth. Bucky gasps into the kiss, spreading his legs wide as Steve wraps a hand around his cock and pulls. Bucky arches up into it, fucking Steve's fist, making desperate, wordless noises.

"Jesus, Bucky, look at you," Steve says, still a little awed by what they do, and how Bucky looks and feels and sounds while they're doing it.

"I want you to do more than look," Bucky answers.

"I know you do." Steve slips two fingers into Bucky's mouth then, and Bucky wraps his tongue around them, slicks them up good and wet so Steve can push them inside him, along with the three fingers he's already got inside him. "Is that okay? Is it too much?"

"Not enough," Bucky answers, fucking himself back onto their fingers and then up into Steve's fist. "I want your cock inside me. I want everything."

"I know," Steve says again, his cock hard and aching at the thought of fucking Bucky through the mattress, "but you're gonna have to wait, because I don't think I can stop touching you right now." Steve thinks he could come just from the fierce heat of Bucky's body clenching around his fingers, the velvet weight of Bucky's cock in his hand. Bucky reaches in and fumbles Steve's belt and fly open so he can pull out Steve's dick. Steve rubs against Bucky's hip, painting his skin with precome, and Bucky's whole body goes taut.

"Come on," Steve says. "Come for me now."

And Bucky does, warm and wet and sticky over his belly and thighs, his voice a hoarse shout that might be Steve's name. Steve strokes him through it, knowing exactly when too much is enough, and rains kisses on his face and neck.

He scoots down the bed, starts licking Bucky clean, the taste salty and familiar on his tongue, sweat and sex and Bucky in a way that's forever imprinted on Steve's memory. Bucky lets out a helpless little noise, dropping his hand into Steve's hair. The metal fingertips scritch against his scalp and Steve pushes up into it, loving how controlled and gentle Bucky can be with it, even now.

"Get up here," Bucky says, tugging on his hair and Steve lets himself be dragged up Bucky's body for a messy wet kiss that leaves him panting into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky reaches down with the metal hand and jerks him hard, little twist on the upstroke like he knows Steve likes, and Steve thrusts into it, the metal warm against his skin. Heat bursts under his skin, the tension rising to the breaking point. He hovers there for an endless second, holding his breath before he lets it break over him, pleasure pulsing through him in waves. He sinks his teeth into Bucky's collarbone as he comes, and Bucky arches up into it with another one of those low, helpless moans Steve finds so hotly satisfying.

He lies with his face pressed to Bucky's chest, panting against his skin, until the metal teeth of his zipper makes things uncomfortable. He shucks his clothes quickly, gets a couple of warm washcloths to clean up, and then gets back into bed.

Bucky nuzzles into his neck, and Steve can feel the curve of his smile, the sharp glance of his teeth.

"You ready for round two?" he asks, his voice all low come-on, like they haven't just gotten off. "I'm still waiting for you to fuck me."

Steve's dick is certainly ready, and Bucky knows it, grabs the lube from the nightstand and slicks him up with a sure hand. Steve settles between his spread thighs and pushes in, closing his eyes and trying to breathe through the aching need that rises in him, trying to appreciate the tight heat of Bucky's body surrounding him.

"Jesus, Steve," Bucky says, pushing up against him. "Would you fucking move?"

Steve laughs and gives a tiny, teasing thrust that satisfies neither of them. "You've got a filthy mouth, you know that?"

"Fuck," Bucky says raggedly. "You love my filthy mouth."

"I do." Steve punctuates his agreement with another shallow thrust. Steve used to worry about it, about the way Bucky wanted to fuck instead of talk, the way he said fuck instead of love, that he wasn't in this forever the way Steve is, the way Steve's always been. The Bucky he got back isn't the same as the one he lost--he doesn't talk as much and he laughs a lot less, and it took Steve a long time to learn what Bucky meant when he said he wanted Steve to fuck him, and how every shift of Bucky's body, every kiss and stroke and bite, is his way of saying yes and love and forever. "I really do."

Bucky claws at the sheets, tearing them a little, and pushes back again, trying to get Steve to move.

Steve gives in, mostly because it's killing him not to move, and also because he's always had a hard time not giving Bucky whatever he wanted. He starts with a slow, rolling motion that makes Bucky clutch at him, and then speeds up, fucks him hard and fast, the way he likes it best.

Bucky's cock is hard again, and he reaches down and starts stroking himself as Steve fucks him.

"You gonna come again?" Steve asks, leaning in to lick at the sweat glistening on Bucky's skin.

Bucky gives him a wild grin. "You first this time. Want you to come inside me."

That's all Steve needs to let his control unravel, vision whiting out around the edges as pleasure shoots down his spine as he spills himself inside Bucky. When he opens his eyes, Bucky grins at him, reaches up to run a thumb over Steve's mouth before pulling him down into a kiss. Steve gasps into his mouth and Bucky breathes him in.

He moves a hand between them, twines his fingers with Bucky's and that's all it takes to bring Bucky off again, his body bowing and arching like a beautifully made instrument.

Steve rolls off of him, feeling like his entire skeleton has melted, and they lie next to each other for a little while, the rough whoosh of their breathing the only sound in the room.

Finally, Bucky reaches for one of the washcloths, cold now but neither of them has the energy to get up and get another one. They clean up slowly, kissing and touching with the sated lethargy of really good orgasms.

Steve's stomach gurgles noisily and Bucky laughs. "If I could move right now, I'd make you pancakes, but it's going to have to wait until morning."

Steve curls up against him and sighs. "Bacon, too?"

"Of course," Bucky murmurs, and then his breathing evens out and he's asleep. Steve lets the steady sound of it slowly pull him under into a deep, satisfied sleep.

end