Bucky knew he should be paying attention to the actual words, but Tony’s voice rasping in his ear was both soothing and oddly tantalizing, like a spray of rain against his skin. He closed his eyes -- to better visualize the quirky engineer -- and tried to concentrate.
“...into the third metajoint, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to run into a frayed wire before you get that far. This would be so much easier if I could open it up in my workshop, but at least the new remote diagnostics functions are working properly.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said, roughly. “Know how you can’t wait t’ get your hands on me.” He wouldn’t have dared say it, if Tony had been sitting on the workbench next to him. There was all this weird silences and strange looks and the feeling of Tony’s eyes on him whenever they were in the same room. Not that Bucky blamed him; being in the same room with a fella that’d done his best to kill ya did weird things for your peace of mind. It was just a hurdle that Bucky didn’t know how to get past.
Steve, who’d walked by in the living room with an enormous bowl of Doritos (the man couldn’t eat like a normal person, out of the fucking bag, but Steve had said on multiple occasions that the crumpling of those bags made him literally crazy), stopped. “Who are you talking to, Buck?” His eyebrows were both way, way up.
Was Bucky doing something weird? He was just letting Tony talk him through a bit of engineering concerns, although… well, Bucky was flirting, a little. When it was safe and Tony couldn’t actually shudder and get up to leave.
Tony, oblivious to Steve’s presence, snarked back, “Well, who could blame me for that? That should hold for a few days, anyway, and as soon as I’m back, I’ll get my hands all up inside you.” Bucky could practically feel the smarmy smirk at that last.
Bucky eyed Steve with his fucking bowl of snack chips and his nosy-parker look, pursed his lips. “Oh, baby, that sounds amazing… can’t wait to feel you, get your hands all over me.” He winked, lewd and nasty at Steve. “What, can’t a guy get a little lovin’ without you givin’ me the stink-eye?”
Steve choked on Dorito dust. “You’re having phone sex? In the living room?”
“Yeah, they take shiny credit cards for that,” Bucky said. They really did, he’d discovered that a few weeks back. The future was weird. Amazing, but weird. He and Rhonda had had a lovely conversation that left him hard and aching for most of the afternoon, and as far as Bucky was concerned, it was worth every penny (quite a few pennies, as it turned out.)
He waited for Tony to splutter and complain and then hang up in his ear.
He was not quite prepared for Tony to say, “Wait, are we trolling someone? Is it Captain Starchy-britches? Please say yes. I will totally be a 1-900 sex call number if it involves trolling Cap.”
“Oh, yeah, like that. Take off your shirt, baby, look in the mirror, tell me what you see…” Bucky watched as Steve glanced down at his bowl, back at Bucky, at the television, and then back at Bucky. Bucky gave him about fifteen more seconds before he either threw something, or fled into the kitchen.
“Finely-toned pecs,” Tony shot back, “because I’m a masochist who lets the Black Widow design my workout routine. So yeah, probably not quite super-soldier standard, there, but if I do say so myself, I’ve got some good tone going. Pecs, a nice six-pack, pretty decent shoulders, too. Why, you wanna put your hands on me? Going to touch all this skin I’ve unwrapped for you?”
“Yeah, great shoulders,” Bucky said, swallowing hard. He’d seen Tony stripped down to a workout tank in the gym before; super-soldiers got all their best out of a fucking bottle, but Tony’s body, lithe and lean and… god. “Little scattering of freckles over the collarbone. Wanna lean down and trace a line with my tongue over those, play a little game of connect-the-dots until your head tips back, just--”
And there went Steve, bowl still tucked against his chest. He paused in the doorway. “You have a bedroom, Buck,” he said, glaring disapprovingly.
“Which is right next to yours,” Bucky called out after him. “If I start moanin’ in there, you’re gonna hear it.”
“You are a terrible person,” Steve declared. Bucky waited a few moments, then-- yep, Steve slammed his bedroom door.
“Steve thinks I’m a terrible person,” Bucky reported, putting his bedroom voice back on. “What do you think, babydoll? You think I’m just awful?”
“You are,” Tony said, sounding very serious. “It’s awful of you to just leave me hanging like that after putting your mouth on my neck and getting me all heated. At least get your shirt off for me so I can touch you, feel all those gorgeous muscles, maybe play with your pretty nipples some. You like that?”
Well, yes, Steve was probably still listening. He wouldn’t want to be listening; he’d hate himself for listening, and yet, hadn’t Steve always listened, watched, waited, eager as hell, every time Bucky had himself a new date, a good time. Trying to figure out what Bucky was doing right, what Steve was doing wrong. And… oh, hell with it. “Sorry, sugar,” Bucky said. “Didn’t mean to get you all wound up… not without a little somethin’ for you.” He flicked his hand down his chest, visualizing Tony yanking up the thin cotton fabric. Layers. Bucky wore layers these days; seemed like he was never quite warm enough. “Thought you might want to take it off, for me. Slide that tee over my head and put your mouth there. Like it when you lick, you got such a beautiful mouth, just made for sinnin’.”
“I’ve got a mouth?” Tony actually sputtered. “Have you even looked in the mirror? But licking, I can do licking. You look about good enough to eat, anyway. Lick my way right around those nips, maybe nibble a little -- you seem like the sort who likes just a hint of teeth, yeah? Keep you distracted with that while I get those shirts off you. Put my mouth on your stomach, too, because that just can’t be real. Needs testing. Tasting. Want to feel your hands in my hair, that silent begging, get you to where you don’t even know what it is you want, just that you want the hell out of it.”
Are we still trolling Steve? Bucky wanted to ask, because god, Tony sounded so goddamn into it. Bucky stretched, let his body sprawl across the sofa, his legs fall open like welcoming an imaginary lover between his thighs. He probably should have known he was getting hard, but it didn’t really register until his dick complained about the lack of space. Holy shit. Tony might or might not be getting into it, but Bucky…
Bucky was all the way in…
“I’ll take a handful of that hair,” Bucky growled into the phone. “Keep that slick mouth of yours right where I want it, until my skin’s red with beard burn. You got a hand, baby, get these jeans off me, I…” Bucky matched his actions to his words, lifting his hips up, and wriggling around, unfastening the button with one hand. The zipper went down with an audible sizzle, metal fingers over the metal teeth. Uh-huh… yeah, any second now, Tony was going to hang up on him, and then the next time they had to get together for anything -- well, Bucky could play it off as trolling Steve, but damn, he wanted to hear what Tony would do. God, he could just see it, that compact, muscular body, kneeling between Bucky’s thighs, dark head bowed, dark eyes pupil-blown and wantin’ it.
“Yeah, jeans off,” Tony agreed, sounding more than a little breathless, himself, and was that the purr of Tony’s zipper over the line? “I got a hand for more than that, honey, can’t wait to get me a handful of you. Nice soft touch to start, just a little tease, drag it down nice and slow. Feel all that heat, feel how big you are. How hard. You hard for me yet? Giving me something nice to play with?”
Oh… oh, god. Bucky stuck a hand down the front of his jeans. Yeah, okay, that… that was going on down there. How the hell had this happened, he was beyond getting hard, he was so fucking thick right now, it hurt. “Yeah,” Bucky slurred. “I got somethin’ here for you, all right.” He let his fingertips drag up the front of his shorts, the metal digits the perfect tease for him, just enough pressure to tempt, the smooth surface a shiver up his spine. “Wonder what you’d look like, those honey-gold eyes of yours just lookin’ up at me while you take it. God. Bet you look pretty as anythin’ with your lips wrapped around me.” He stroked himself, once, unable to resist. He couldn’t hold back the throaty moan, either, didn’t even try.
Hell with Tony taking his dick, if Tony was there, Bucky’d have him on his back, pants around his ankles, nudging his thighs open so Bucky could take a taste. Hell with it. “”Course, I’m impatient,” he said. “Wouldn’t let you get much before I’d have to check out what you got for me… you… I bet it’s pretty, just like the rest of you. Glowing bronze skin, so hot and hard for me, honey, are you?”
Tony let out a noise that wasn’t quite a moan and wasn’t quite a whimper, but existed somewhere between the two. “Hard like you wouldn’t believe,” he groaned. “Fuck, I... Yeah, show you what I’ve got, about ready to pound damn nails. Need you to touch me, slow and firm and--” His breath hitched, and he had to pant a little before continuing, “What d’you think, honey; I can’t decide if I’d rather see you jack me with that gorgeous hand or put that mouth of yours to good use.”
Oh, god. Tony was actually thinking. About Bucky. He hadn’t inserted some random faceless, nameless fantasy, he was actually… Bucky’s hips rocked up, rutting against the air. “Gonna shove my fingers in your fuckin’ mouth,” Bucky told him. “Let you lick and suck those, like you want me t’ do to you, an’ I’ll show you what a fast learner I am. Do it just how you want it. You want it hard an’ fast, or take my time and lick you like a popsicle? Just the head, suck you in and lick along your ridge until you’re beggin’ for it. You want that, baby, can you imagine that?”
Bucky was working himself harder, letting the palm of his metal hand cup himself, then slide up and down, listening to the click and whine of servos. The delicate shift of plates and joints. Knew that Tony could hear it over the phone. Knew that Tony would know what he was doing, and wanting him to know. Wanting him to feel it… “Come on, baby, that’s good…”
“Yes,” Tony said, and that was a shameless gasp. “Yeah, yes, so good, honey, fuck, that’s... You... Going to touch yourself, too, while you’re doing that? Make me beg for it, and have to squeeze hard so you don’t pop off too fast. Or maybe you do, just let it go and mark me up with it, hn? Get me good and desperate and--” He broke off in a whine, and Bucky could hear the slick rasp of skin on skin, slow and then fast. “Oh, fuck-- Bucky...”
Jesus, Jesus fuck. Bucky swore fervently. It had to be his name, Tony had to say his goddamn name while he was coming, and Bucky lost it. He scrambled with his jeans, pressing the heel of his hand over it while he came, white ribbons of sensation up his legs and spine, spinning up through his neck, tingled along his scalp until he was gasping with it, shuddering and shaking. “Oh, oh, christ, I… oh, my god…” He nearly let the phone fall to the floor, the sudden ease and utter relaxation caused it to slip from his grip, land on his shoulder.
He ended up panting shamelessly into the phone, trying in vain to regain some sort of equilibrium, utterly aware that he’d just jerked off in the fucking living room, while Steve was probably still listening despite his best efforts. With Tony Stark’s voice chasing him into oblivion. “Holy shit.”
Tony was panting for breath, hoarse and harsh. “Oh, god. That... That happened. Oh my god.” His breaths started to slow a little, to smooth out, though they weren’t stretching quite into sleepy-sounding, yet.
There were so, so many things Bucky could have said. Nasty things that would have ensured this never came up in conversation, ever again. Things to make it a joke, a fun time, but not worth repeating. Things… so many things. He wasn’t exactly not-horrified by his own behavior. Except…
Except that he’d really… he really wanted it.
Wanted it to not be a joke.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “That happened.” He swallowed hard, then let himself be… vulnerable. Honest. “It was… good. Nice.” Nice was inadequate, and Bucky almost scoffed at himself. “I… liked it.”
Tony stopped breathing for a few heartbeats. “That’s... good?” he said. He sounded uncertain. “I mean, of course it’s good, I just didn’t... Uh. I liked it, too. Except, please, dear god, please tell me that Steve left the room at some point, okay. Lie if you have to, just...”
Bucky let himself relax a little more. Laughed, light. “Think he left the fuckin’ building a while ago,” Bucky said. “I wasn’t quite payin’ attention, but I ain’t heard him in a while.” He considered the empty space at his side where someone should be curled up, post-coital glow lightin’ up the room like a little beacon. “Wish you were here.”
“Do you?” Tony sounded surprised. “I mean. I could. Be there, if you, if that was... something you actually wanted?”
There was a raw pain in Tony’s voice that snagged at Bucky’s attention. “I… uh…” He didn’t even know how to say it, he had been joking, at first, and then… “I wasn’t… I mean… I ain’t gonna lie, it was… unexpected. Didn’t know you bent like a bottle-cap, too. If… yes. Yes, that’s something I actually want. If… if you want it. Too, that is.”
God, maybe living with Steve had cursed him, or something. He was used to being smooth, and that… that was nothing like smooth. That was as bumpy and ugly and awkward as a thing could possibly be, and if Tony laughed now and hung up, Bucky’d be damn well heartbroken, and worse, Tony would fuckin’ know it.
Tony was quiet for a moment, and Bucky wished like hell Tony’s face was visible, wanted to know what was going on in that head. “I didn’t think... I thought you didn’t really like me,” Tony said, and there was that raw note again. “Just, y’know. Have to get maintenance somewhere. And all of Steve’s dumb get-along speeches.”
“Steve’s speeches are pretty dumb,” Bucky agreed. He squirmed a little; his pants were getting uncomfortable, and the couch was too big an’ empty. He was still riding the drift-down from his orgasm, and talking about it without being able to smell Tony’s hair, without feeling the warmth of him pressed against Bucky’s side… that was a hole he wasn’t sure he could reach across. “But it sounds like we got us some talkin’ t’ do. I’d… like to do that with m’arms around you.”
“That... sounds pretty good,” Tony admitted. “Hold that thought, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. An hour. Two, tops. Maybe clear out of the living room, though.”
Bucky managed a distinctly uncomfortable groan and pulled himself upright. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Got it. Moving my decidedly unmotivated ass into the bedroom.” All he really wanted to do was sleep, pillowed up against a warm body, listen to another heartbeat as he drifted in dreams. “Come on over, soon’s you can, babydoll. Want… wanna do everything we talked about.”
How was it that he was feeling shy, all the sudden? He’d been so blatant, wanton on the phone. And the idea of having Tony actually in his arms made him as giddy as a schoolboy with a crush.
“Oh, we’re going to do so much more than that,” Tony promised. “It sounds like we have some catching up to do.”
Bucky groaned. “Fly faster.” He tapped the disconnect and scooched back into the bedroom. Steve’s room was dead silent. Bucky was humming under his breath and couldn’t help the dopey, just got laid face he was making as he stripped out of his clothes and headed for the shower. He’d be in thin sleep pants and his hair scraped back in a bun by the time Tony pushed in through the door, and they could… well, just see what happened next…