Sex is -- wow. If Steve had known how fantastic it could be, well, he still would have waited for the right partner. But he would have been a lot less patient about it.
These days, he wants to kiss Bucky all the time. Soft good-morning kisses and heat-filled, biting kisses and sloppy after-sex kisses. He never realized before what a gorgeous mouth Bucky has, more fool him. Steve wants to kiss that mouth every minute.
He can't get enough of Bucky's hands on his body, and his hands on Bucky's. His wrists want to be held tight in Bucky's grip, and the insides of his knees want to be touching Bucky's thighs. He wants the smell of Bucky's neck, the sound of the two of them rolling across the sheets, and the way time goes honey-slow when they're touching.
The whole first week after he and Bucky got together, Steve walked around with his face bright red because he couldn't stop thinking about it. Now, it's been almost a month, and he's stopped going red but he hasn't stopped thinking about it.
The only problem, really, is that Bucky's terrible self-sacrificing streak shows up in the bedroom as well as everywhere else.
Today is a good example. It's nighttime, the best time, and Steve is spread out across the bed with Bucky leaning over him. Bucky is kissing Steve's neck, taking his time with it, and Steve is running his hands along Bucky's back from the wings of his shoulder-blades on down. Everything is still new enough that when he runs his hands over Bucky's ass, and tucks the fingers of one hand into the crease, it feels luscious and dirty and almost too intimate. Bucky makes an mmm sound and leans back into Steve's hands, and raises his head enough to say, "You can, you know. If you want to."
Steve is way too gone to make sense of that. "I can what?" he asks hazily.
"You can fuck me," Bucky says, and leans back down to bite lightly at Steve's nipple.
"I -- what?" Steve says, confused. Bucky's gotten more crass as they've gotten comfortable with each other, and it bothered Steve for about a minute until he decided that was just Bucky's way. But usually what Bucky says at least makes sense. "I'm pretty sure that's what we're doing," he says, and runs his right foot up the side of Bucky's leg. He loves feeling the hair on Bucky's legs, and the strength of Bucky's muscles.
Bucky laughs quietly. "No, I mean you can fuck me," he reaches back and grips Steve's hand, "here."
Steve gapes. "Men can do that?" Nobody in the Army talked about that. He really shouldn't have turned down Clint's offer of a gay sex tutorial. Or Tony's offer. Or Natasha's.
Bucky laughs, dropping his head to Steve's chest. "Oh, man. Never change, Rogers, I mean it."
"No, no, what do you mean?" Steve asks, poking the back of Bucky's head. This could be really good. "Are you serious?"
"Not anymore, you've ruined the moment." Bucky flops out in a sprawl over Steve's body, his shoulders still shaking a little.
"Bucky," Steve says. "Come on, are you messing with me? Do men really do that?"
Bucky lifts his head to look at Steve. This is another thing Steve will never get enough of: Bucky's beautiful open eyes, and the heat in them, and the love in them. Bucky says, "Yeah, men do that. It can feel really good."
Steve says, "Oh." The thought of putting his dick inside Bucky is, is. He's about to say, oh my goodness, yes when Bucky grins and says,
"And you're in luck, because I've been told I am ace at getting fucked."
Steve frowns, and something inside him snaps to attention. This is not Bucky's happy, relaxed sex voice or even his curious, bittersweet 'some memories are okay' voice. This is Bucky's 'give ground and lie about it' voice, the one Steve has come to hate. He says carefully, "You've been told that, huh?"
"Best ass in the Balkans, that's me," Bucky says, his smile getting sharper. His body has gone completely tense on top of Steve's, and Steve -- he doesn't have any idea what to do at moments like this.
So he grabs onto the first wild idea that comes to mind, and says, "How about you do that to me instead?"
The grin drops right off Bucky's face, and his eyes go wide. "What?" he asks. He goes loose with surprise, and Steve thinks if he can just ride the wave of it they can get through this all right.
"I think it sounds like fun," Steve says, and spreads his legs so Bucky's thighs fall in between them. He smiles a little at the dazed expression on Bucky's face, and says, "If you're ace at it, then it can't be that hard."
Bucky looks like he's caught between laughter, sadness and arousal, and he says, "Rogers, maybe we --"
Steve leans up and kisses him. "Come on," he says. "I know you'll make it good for me." He doesn't actually know this, but he hopes. And if it doesn't feel the greatest, well, he heals fast. At least saying it eases the tight lines around Bucky's eyes.
Bucky bites his lip, his eyes flicking quickly to the exits and back to Steve, and then he nods once. "Yeah, yeah, I'll make it good for you. Just stay there," he says, and gets up and goes to the bedside table, where Steve has put lubricant and tissues and condoms at Bucky's request.
"Dressed like this, where would I go?" Steve asks, stretching his arms above his head.
Bucky looks at him and smiles, a tiny sweet smile. "Steve, dressed like that, you could go anywhere."
And really, what is Steve gonna do with that? "Come here," he says, and Bucky does.
Bucky lays out lubricant and a condom and shifts Steve down farther on the bed, pushes a pillow under the small of Steve's back, strokes Steve's hair, kisses the palm of Steve's hand. He presses his metal hand to the soft skin of Steve's inner thigh, the cold of it making Steve hiss and arch up, and then his flesh and blood hand is pressing behind Steve's balls, slick with lubricant, stroking the skin, reaching back toward Steve's hole. Bucky says, "Just one finger, first," and touches Steve's asshole, and then pushes inside. Steve lets himself be opened up, and it feels strange and maybe not pleasant, but the look on Bucky's face is spectacular. Steve's body feels hot and flushed all over, and Bucky is touching inside his body, and this is sex and it's -- wow.
Bucky pushes his finger all the way in, and then out, and suddenly two fingers are pushing in and that feels stranger but somehow better. "That's nice," Steve says vaguely, frowning. Bucky huffs a laugh, and twists his fingers, and that feels good, and then he pushes his fingers in farther and twists them again, and Steve lights up all the way along his spine.
He says, "Oh my God," and arches up off the bed so that he almost cracks his skull on Bucky's chest.
"The Father and the Son and James Buchanan Barnes, amen," Bucky says lightly, but he's breathing a little faster when he pulls his fingers out.
Steve says, "Don't say that, it's --" and then he shuts his mouth with a snap and lets his head fall back, because Bucky is pushing three fingers in and touching that place inside his body that feels incredible. "Also, you're not funny," he says weakly, when he can talk again.
"I am hilarious, Bucky says, moving his fingers inside Steve, and Steve gasps.
"Please," he says, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Bucky moves his fingers again, and Steve fists his hands in the sheets. "Oh."
"Okay," Bucky says, sounding rattled. "Okay. Just, just let me, just give me a second." He takes his fingers out, and there's the sound of a condom wrapper tearing, and the sound of skin, and then Bucky's dick is right against his hole, and Bucky is pushing in, in, in.
"Fuck," Steve says, pushing back. It's so good.
"God, don't swear," Bucky says shakily. "I'll lose it if you start to swear." He grabs Steve's hips and pulls out, and then he pushes back in again, and Steve moans and arches against him.
Bucky sets up a rhythm with slow, deep rocking thrusts that bend Steve almost in half, until Steve is gasping and clenching his hands together so he doesn't break the headboard. Bucky moans quietly with every thrust, and the sound of it makes Steve crazy. "Bucky," he says, and he doesn't know what he's asking for. "Please, just."
Bucky says, "Yeah, I got you," and starts jerking him off, a little off-rhythm with the movement of his hips, and it feels like only a minute before Steve comes like he's been knocked in the head.
"Fuck, Steve, the way you, you," Bucky says, and he snaps his hips twice, hard, making Steve groan, and then he's coming too, squeezing Steve's waist tight and shaking all over. He holds still over Steve, staring at him, breathing hard, and then suddenly he leans down until his face is resting in the crook of Steve's neck, and snakes his hands up along Steve's sides, and hugs tight.
Steve is still shuddering with aftershocks, lying there with his legs splayed open and his hands clenched tight over his head, but he turns his face to the side and presses a weak kiss to Bucky's hair, making Bucky laugh. Bucky pulls out carefully, and grabs the pillow from underneath Steve, and gets up to throw away the condom. He fusses around the room for a minute and then comes back to sprawl across the mattress and Steve's tired body. Steve stretches and hums, feeling delightful.
"Whew," he says. There is actual sweat drying in the small of his back, and his breathing is still a little rough. He cups his hands around Bucky's neck, and then slides them down over Bucky's shoulders. He runs the tips of his fingers down Bucky's metal arm, and back up again.
Bucky says, "In my fantasies, that always went very differently." His face is smooshed into Steve's chest, so the words come out smeary and muffled.
"Oh?" Steve perks up. "What were your fantasies?"
Bucky chuckles softly. "Uh, well. My favorite for a long time was, we're in a Belgian farmhouse, on the way back from a mission. We're all alone, and of course you're overcome, so you just pick me up and take me."
"Mmm," Steve says. He's picked Bucky up before, and it's been very good.
Bucky lifts himself a little, and rubs his nose back and forth against Steve's shoulder. "Before that," he says, breath hot against Steve's skin, "when you were smaller, I thought you would tell me to hold still, and I'd do it. I imagine you bossing me around, taking over."
And isn't that an idea for another time. But, Steve frowns and says, "In your fantasies, you were always the one being. . ."
Bucky stills and says, "Yeah."
"But you," don't like it, he wants to say. But you have bad memories, he wants to say. But you can ask for anything he wants to say.
"Yeah?" Bucky asks, voice suddenly hard. He is do not enter all over, and Steve runs a hand down his back to sooth him.
"But you are clearly lacking in imagination," Steve says, and Bucky relaxes.
"I'm getting that," he says, and kisses Steve's chest.
They lie together for a while, touching without purpose, and Steve, as always, gets lost in the feeling of skin.
When Steve is half asleep and wondering if he should scoot them under the tangled-up covers, Bucky says, "Maybe, maybe next time I could try being -- if you wanted." His voice is a little hopeful, but mostly strained and tentative.
Steve raises his eyebrows, and stares down at the top of Bucky's head. "Next time is my turn again," he says, because that is happening, "and then maybe I'll let you try. If you can convince me."
Bucky tucks his face even further into Steve's chest, and says, "I can work with those terms." The way he says it, it sounds like, I love you.
Steve pulls him close, pressing their feet together. He breathes in Bucky's smell and listens to the sound of Bucky's heart, thanks his lucky stars for this, and goes to sleep.