Bucky wasn’t sure he was pleased to be in the New York offices of Stark Architecture International or not. Stark was well-known to be an asshole to work with: a mad-genius visionary who tended to scrap his first three ideas way too late into building the project before somehow managing to create art.
Bucky didn’t give a fucking shit about art.
He cared about working with someone who was a dick to the people actually on the ground doing the work. He cared about the hassle of contracts, unions, overtime, and hazard pay that went into construction, and how it could be impacted by a man like Stark. He cared about his company, not the kind of modern atrocities Stark came up with.
He also cared about getting paid, and it was definitely a lucrative contract, rumors about Stark be dammed. And hell, if the quality of the pastries set out for the people attending the meeting were anything to go by, it would be a pay day.
He was staring at the danish in his hand, wondering if eating it would ruin his supper; he could always go to the gym later, but that didn’t really seem like the best compromise. Would the pastry even be worth it? Bucky looked up from this thought to make sure that he was still early enough that no one was sitting around the meeting room table yet. He didn’t want to be the last one in because he was contemplating having a snack.
No one yet. Bucky was still the awkward loner who was vaguely worried he was in the wrong spot despite the nice administrative assistant who walked him right to the door and promised him the meeting would be starting momentarily.
He started to shuffle aside so he could take out his phone and pretend he was answering important emails instead of checking his Facebook. No one would really be fooled, but it was a generally accepted ploy with professionals these days. Having a business page on Facebook: 75% to promote your business, 25% so you could have a reason to check your Facebook 3 times an hour even if there weren’t notifications.
Bucky took 2 steps to his left, already intent on reading a message from Clint, when he almost physically ran into someone also checking their phone as they walked into the corridor. Bucky looked up, knowing that he was about to meet someone who he’d be working with for the foreseeable future, a smile ready on his face –
“Oh. Hey,” Bucky blurted out in surprise, coming face to face with Steve Whats-his-face, the guy he had sex with once upon a few years ago in the bathroom of a small club in Brooklyn. It was one of the few times in his life he’d gone for the one night stand – or, the quick and dirty bathroom fuck, as it turned out being - and seeing Steve again reminded him exactly why he’d ended up with his pants around his thighs and a dick up his ass in a small enclosed space where touching the walls was probably more dangerous to his health than the actual sex was.
“Hi,” Steve answered, quirking an eyebrow at him with curiosity, lowering his phone so he could take Bucky in.
Oh. Bucky didn’t know that eyebrow quirk personally, but he could guess. Was it a faux-pas to acknowledge someone you fucked in a bathroom? Probably. Was that more or less of a faux-pas to do it right before the first project meeting for a planned sky scraper they were probably both working on? “We had sex once,” Bucky clarified and then winced internally.
Bucky: making awkward situations less awkward. In retrospect Steve was probably waiting for Bucky to introduce himself. Whelp. That ship had sailed.
“Oh,” Steve responded, actually smiling at that. “Well. Yes, that’s likely.”
“Likely?” he ended up echoing, even though his brain told him to shut up.
Steve looked him over. Bucky would think he was being checked out if: 1. He hadn’t been on the other end of Steve’s assessing gaze before, and it had led to sex in a bathroom; and 2. If Steve’s expression had been flirty rather than thoughtful. “It’s very likely.”
“Thank you?” Bucky asked. Likely did not mean the same thing as 'oh yeah we did'. Likely meant that Steve had no idea when he’d fucked Bucky in a toilet stall. Ouch. And yet at the same time it somehow made things less awkward, and he ended up laughing. “It’s ok, I get it. It wasn’t that good. Let’s just forget I acknowledged knowing you and we can move on.” He made a gesture towards the meeting room. After you. Please. Let’s leave this place behind us.
Steve shrugged. “Usually the faces that stick are the ones my brain has labelled NEVER AGAIN. Do you remember everyone you’ve had sex with?”
Bucky opened his mouth. Then he closed his mouth with a wince. At least he wasn’t the only one who was making things awkward.
“You do,” Steve filled in Bucky’s silence.
“I don’t really, uh…” oh god, just shoot him. Bucky was making this so much worse than it had to be. “Have sex with a lot of people I’m not dating or planning to date. It’s my thing.”
The eyebrow quirk was back and this time it looked concerned as Steve gestured between them. “You didn’t think we were going to… Because if so, I’m sorry. I do my best to be clear, but I’ve been told I’m not always successful.”
“No,” Bucky answered quickly to reassure both of them. “We fucked in a bathroom. I knew exactly what it was.” It wasn’t the best sex he ever had, fortunately (for his pride, at least), but it was unforgettable for him. In a filthy kind of way. He was really trying not to be bothered by the idea he was the only one who remembered it. He could have gone the rest of his life not knowing and being secretly proud of the fact he had a one night stand with a devastatingly hot man once.
And Steve? Just as devastatingly hot as Bucky remembered.
He should be proud. Wow.
Something about what Bucky said made realization dawn on Steve’s face. “Oh! Yeah… Brooklyn. Summer of 2012. Shake Shack.”
Bucky pursed his lips together awkwardly. This was worse. This was 100% worse. "Uh..."
“No?” Steve asked. Then he shrugged. “It’s probably better that it wasn’t.”
“You fucked someone in a Shake Shack bathroom? I was going to say I’m impressed, but I think I’m the opposite.” He ended up moderating his tone low, almost intimate, as a few people walked by and acknowledged Steve.
“I wasn’t that impressed either,” Steve answered with a rueful grin. "Oh, well it looks like the meeting is about to start. This was a lot more of an entertaining coffee break than I thought it would be. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Bucky found himself saying.
"Would you like to go for drinks once we're done here? I'm curious about what exactly it is I've forgotten." Steve raised his eyebrows in question without a hint of filth or innuendo to his tone.
Bucky blinked at him. "Smooth," he assessed.
"Yeah," Steve grinned.
"I've been working on nothing but this project for a month. It's starting to wear at me. Think about it!" Steve said, walking backwards into the board room. Bucky was left holding a pastry he hadn't even started to eat and he was definitely thinking about it.
“You offered to get drinks,” Bucky said, stalking up to stand at Steve’s elbow at the elevators. He was feeling residual anger for the way Steve’s supervisor had addressed him, and the idea of drinks and sex with Steve had gone from a temptation that he could probably resist to necessary.
Fuck Stark anyway. Bucky knew what renewable energy was, he didn’t need it explained in a flawed analogy using a pen and a laser pointer, and yet when he’d pointed out the flaw to Stark, he’d gotten a look like he was too stupid to exist.
Steve looked at his face. “Would this be a hate fuck?” he questioned.
So at least Bucky hadn’t been the only one who noticed. “Oh, I’d be real gentle with you, if that’s what you wanted. You’d remember it this time.” There was anger to his tone that he couldn’t really get rid of, even though Steve hadn’t done anything to cause it directly. Then he winced and closed his eyes, counting to three to rein in whatever part of his temper had him focusing that negativity on Steve.
“I think you could use the drink,” Steve said, his hand resting on Bucky’s elbow in a way that wasn’t a demand or a way to force him into moving. It was a show of support from someone Bucky didn’t know very well but had enjoyed talking to earlier. “Or some company to get you out of your own head.”
He deflated, relaxing just the slightest amount. “Yeah,” he said, pressing his fingers against his eye sockets. “Yeah, I could. Sorry.”
“There we go,” Steve said, smiling. “We’ll get a drink and let you have a breather, and then we’ll look at how to spend the rest of the night. Believe me, I know. Like I said, I’ve been on this project non-stop for a month.”
Bucky sighed deeply, and suddenly all he wanted was to go home and sleep for twelve hours. He thought about how long a project like this would take to complete. Projections were looking at eighteen months to three years, and it was Bucky’s first priority to narrow down that estimate. He’d aim for sixteen months just to get away from Stark if he thought the workers could handle the strain, but Bucky would always put them first and so it was looking like it would be a long two years (plus).
“The way I see it is we have two choices right now,” Steve said, sitting on the barstool in a way that made him seem shorter than he was with his legs hooked around the chair legs and a slouch to his posture. “A drink or two, just enough to take off the edge from the meeting, and then relaxing sex in a sensible place like a bed or a couch. Or we get blindly drunk and fuck in a bathroom again if both of us can get it up and still want to.”
Bucky scoffed. “Buddy, I’m not 20 anymore. That sounds like a surefire way to make work suck tomorrow. I have deliverables.”
“That is true,” Steve agreed, signaling to the bartender. “One drink, and those aren’t famous last words.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, but leaned back and observed Steve. His recollection of Steve from that night was both hazy and clear enough that Bucky had known him instantly. The bar they were in wasn’t as dimly lit as the club they’d met in, or with the harsh lights of the bathroom they’d ended up fucking in. Steve’s eyes were blue and kind, easily amused.
Steve let him look. He didn’t seem bashful or self-conscious. He also didn’t seem to be smug or cocky at being checked out. Bucky was completely aware that Steve was taking the time to look at him back, and he wasn’t sure that his face didn’t show each and every one of those things.
“I have it now,” Steve said, taking the first drink of his beer once it was placed in front of him. “Public library, February 2014. You fucked me against the sink.”
Bucky’s eyes went a little wide. “A library? Really? That’s… I think I actually am impressed this time.”
Steve just smiled at him, a little proud and self-satisfied around the edges. Bucky didn’t blame him.
“No,” Bucky continued. “Not even close to being me. Not a library. Not 2014. And I wasn’t the one doing the fucking.”
“Hmmm,” Steve responded, his eyes dropping to Bucky’s lap. That I-don’t-remember-but-I’m-assessing-you-again expression was back, and it didn’t look like Steve was liking what he was seeing this time. “I suppose I can work with that.”
“I’m going to regret asking this,” Bucky said in response. “But work with what?”
“There are 2 reasons I fuck a guy instead of the other way around: 1. Because he looks like he needs it more than I do, and 2. Because –“
“Yeah, I got it.”
“ – He’s got a tiny dick.”
Bucky nodded, not sure if he was amused, insulted, or a little into Steve’s level of pragmatism. “Yeah. I’d just broken up with my second girlfriend in two years and was really missing getting fucked, so hopefully I’m in the first category, but I don’t expect you to believe me until you see it. Who knows?” Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know what your definition of tiny is. You seem like the type who appreciates size.”
“See, we’re getting to know each other.” Steve lifted his glass to tap against Bucky’s. “I know you’re into girls and you know I like big dicks.”
“I’m openly into guys, too,” Bucky pointed out. “For clarification.”
“For clarification I like medium sized dicks too.”
Bucky snorted, laughing around a mouthful of beer he was desperately trying not to spit out or choke on.
“I got you on that one,” Steve said, smiling widely at Bucky’s dilemma. “You should swallow.”
If anything, that made it worse, and from the delighted way Steve was watching him, Bucky could tell that was the point. Finally, he managed to get the drink down, wrinkling his nose at the way his sinuses were burning and making a valiant – yet failing – attempt not to cough. “I haven’t needed to be prompted to do that one since I was a teenager.”
“You and I are going to get along fantastically,” Steve predicted.
Bucky looked at him and considered how the shape of that would go. Steve seemed like the type of person Bucky might enjoy being friends with. Steve seemed easy going about a lot of things, but with a backbone that Bucky could appreciate. “I’ve been told that my way of dating either leads to a relationship or a lasting friendship,” Bucky said, putting a finger up to stop Steve from responding yet. “I don’t see why we can’t fuck our way into being friends. Or – you know, not friends.”
“Not friends,” Steve said slowly.
“I mean we don’t have to come out the other side of this as meaning anything to each other. I’m not implying more than friends. You’ve hinted that you’re not the more-than-friends type.”
“I’ll find that with someone someday,” Steve answered with a frown. “I enjoy having sex but I don’t deny that love exists or that I want to find someone to share it with. I just don’t think I have to be celibate while doing it.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“You did mean, and I understand why. You were reassuring me that you wouldn’t get attached, which is a valid response for you to have, but it’s just as valid for me not to appreciate the implication I’m not someone to get attached to. Someday I’ll click with someone and know, but for right now there’s you and me and whether or not we’re heading towards sex tonight.”
Bucky hesitated. He was feeling a lot more relaxed now that he was half a beer in, and less like he needed physical activity with another person in order to work off the residual anger Stark had left him with.
But then… Steve.
"I won’t try to convince you," Steve told him. "Not aggressively. I would like it if we went back to your place tonight to fuck. It’s been a long week, and I’m interested in finding out if your mouth can do the type of things it looks like it can do. If you genuinely don't want to, or if this feels too much like a date for you to be able to spend the next two years sitting through monthly meetings with me, then we can walk away right now."
“I think I can manage for it to be less than a two,” Bucky pointed out, his mouth curling around the lip of his drink as he looked at Steve being all earnest about giving Bucky a way out. The word no was in Bucky’s vocabulary.
“Don’t,” Steve argued. “Pad in extra time. Stark will change his mind on everything at the last minute.”
“I had heard rumors about that.”
“Every one of them is understatement. Have I scared you off yet?”
It felt like he wasn’t talking about Stark or work. There was an unspoken dare in the tilt of his head or the slant of his eyes that spoke to Bucky on a base level.
"Let me kiss you before making a decision?" Bucky requested. "I'm not concerned with this feeling like a date, I can differentiate between the two, but last time we fucked I was looking to cut loose and make a bad decision and this time it would be for a different kind of fun. My requirements aren’t the same."
"Oh, absolutely," Steve agreed, his eyes on Bucky's mouth. Bucky wasn't entirely sure if Steve was agreeing with Bucky’s assessment of the situation or to the kiss, but he swayed into Steve's space anyway. He realized as he brushed his mouth against Steve’s that he’d been wondering about this all night. That time three years ago had been an adrenaline high of daring and the fast-paced press of bodies together in an enclosed space. Could Steve kiss him at a leisurely pace, one that was a precursor to a possibility rather than a sure bet?
In other words: could Steve even kiss when it wasn’t leading up to a dirty bathroom fuck with clothing still mostly on?
Bucky didn’t actually remember kissing Steve before, not in detail. He didn’t remember the slide of Steve’s bottom lip against his or the way Steve sighed into Bucky’s favourite move with his hand cradled against the nape of Steve’s neck. He liked that Steve was a playful kisser, easily letting Bucky continue to explore, seeking out whether or not kissing Steve made Bucky want more, capturing his interest in a different way than the pull of Steve’s body from across a bar had.
Bucky was breathing heavily once he pulled away, and he couldn’t help but watch Steve for his reaction. He enjoyed the way Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s tongue as he licked his lips. It was flattering. “Yeah,” he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss against the corner of Steve’s reddened mouth. “Yeah.”
Steve hand moved from Bucky’s neck to his cheek, his thumb pressing against Bucky’s bottom lip. “Oh,” he said, pleased. “Even if your dick is tiny, we’re going to have fun.”
And Bucky laughed.
“This is me,” Bucky said, unlocking the door to his apartment. He wondered what the building looked like to an architect. It was probably an eyesore, so nondescript it was painful, but Bucky wasn’t looking for aesthetics in his housing, he was looking for practical, well-built, and spacious. The tiny size of some of the apartments in Manhattan made him itchy, and Brooklyn was starting to be the same. He wasn’t living in a tenement from 1920.
Steve took it in as Bucky hung up their coats. “I like the layout,” he said, his eyes lingering on exposed brick and the industrial look Bucky had cultivated. “You have an eye for details.”
Ok, maybe he was going for aesthetics. Just a little.
“Thanks,” Bucky said, and smiled because the only way to take that was as a compliment. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Steve’s pants, leaning his body into Steve’s space. “Would you like something to drink or a quick tour on the way to the bedroom.”
The corner of Steve’s eyes crinkled in amusement as they swayed together, Bucky moving in for a kiss.
“How quickly can you make the tour?” Steve questioned, his hand trailing down Bucky’s arm. Bucky let their fingers tangle together as he tugged Steve through his living room.
“Ten cent tour: Couch. Kitchen. Bathroom,” he said, continuing to lead a very willing Steve deeper into his apartment. “Bedroom.”
“Where does that door lead?” Steve questioned, pointing to the closet as Bucky moved into the bedroom. “I don’t think I got my money’s worth.”
Bucky paused to stare at him for a moment, taking Steve in from his blond hair, past the obviousness of his trim waist, down to his toes. He felt a bit startled faced with that level of perfect, arousing sass in a package that Bucky had to be dared into approaching the first time. It was like his usual type of guy was mixed with his jerk-off fantasy into one person, and that person was Steve.
Steve’s mouth turned up at his own joke, and the spell was broken because damn, that was cute. Bucky couldn’t put someone into a box of ‘sexy’ when they smiled at their own silly jokes. “I don’t think I owe you more than that for ten cents. Give me a quarter and I’ll show you around my bedroom.”
“Now I think you’re selling yourself short.”
Bucky laughed out loud, pulling Steve in through the doorway. He ignored the fact that his bed was unmade and there were three used coffee mugs on his nightstand because he had an awful habit of only remembering about them when he was about to put the dishwasher on. His bedroom looked lived in and like the bedroom of a man who was used to being the only person inhabited his own space. There wasn’t anything he could do about that or any shame in it.
It was exactly who Bucky was.
They kissed as their feet stumbled over the threshold, Bucky getting a good handful of Steve’s shirt as he went, pulling it over his head and taking a moment to appreciate the view. The last time he’d only managed to ruck Steve’s shirt up far enough to get the impression of his taut abdomen muscles and his chest, the body of someone athletic who made the effort to be impressive. It was a shame, then, that bathroom sex wasn’t the type of sex that led to being able to just look.
Steve smiled as Bucky was looking at him, in a patient and pleased sort of way that told Bucky that Steve sometimes liked to be appreciated. “Now you,” Steve said, tugging at the hem of Bucky’s shirt.
Bucky peeled it over his head and tossed it in the direction of his laundry basket, not giving Steve any grace period before Bucky trailed his hand down his stomach and unfastened his pants, pushing them down so that they pooled at his ankles and he was completely naked.
Bucky was also someone who liked to be appreciated, sometimes.
Steve’s eyes scanned down his body, pausing at Bucky’s cock. He made a thoughtful face, all raised eyebrows and downturned mouth with a small nod at the end. Bucky didn’t even know what that meant.
“Good enough,” Steve explained, his hand curling around Bucky’s dick and giving it a slow tug. “You can disappoint me in other ways.”
“You have thoroughly won me over with your charm and sensitivity,” Bucky retorted, leaning into the quickening press of Steve’s hand. He could feel Steve smile at that, mouth pressed against Bucky’s shoulder before he moved in for a kiss as Bucky took the opportunity of their closeness to open Steve’s pants.
When they fucked in the bathroom, Bucky could remember the bite of Steve’s jeans against the back of his thighs and the curve of his ass, and he considered what Steve’s slacks would feel like. The softer material would take longer to chafe, but probably would slide down Steve’s thighs easier, until they were both tripping over the material pooled at his ankles.
It was a thought. One to explore some other time.
“Come here,” Bucky said, hand curled around Steve’s wrist as he led him back towards the bed, pushing him so he landed on the tangle of Bucky’s bedsheets. Steve made a face and started pulling the bunched-up comforter out from under his back as Bucky searched his nightstand for lube and condoms. The lube was easy to find, tucked up against the corner of the drawer where he kept it for easy access, but the condoms had migrated to beneath the book he started reading in January, the owner’s manual for his sound system, and a box of Kleenex.
Steve had finally settled into a comfortable position and was watching as Bucky threw each one of those items on the floor. “I have one in my wallet,” he offered. “Usually I carry more than that, but you caught me at work. I don’t usually – or ever, actually – pull from that pool.”
“No, I just bought a box in November, it’s just a matter of... aha!” Bucky crowed, pulling it out. The box was a bit smooshed from the weight of the book being on top of it, but the condoms were fine.
“Expiry date?” Steve questioned, reaching for the box.
“Next year,” Bucky read, but tossed it to him so he could read it for himself. “Definitely safer than a wallet condom. If I couldn’t find these, we would have been sticking to handjobs.”
“Well, I do switch it out every week if I haven’t used it doesn’t have time to degrade from friction, but I appreciate that you take responsibility for your own safety. I like that in a person.”
It had seemed a lot simpler in the bathroom stall. He’d gone with Steve pulling a business card holder out of his pocket – hadn’t really thought beyond ‘yep that’s a condom’.
“My mom’s a nurse,” Steve supplied, taking one out of the box. “She’d murder me if I tested positive for something from my own negligence. She’d be able to see the truth on my face.” He looked up at Bucky with consideration. “If I haven’t completely killed the mood, why don’t you bring that bottle of lube over here?”
“Why would you kill the mood?” Bucky questioned, sliding a hand up Steve’s thigh. His skin was warm and touching him reminded Bucky of how long it had been since he touched someone with purpose. He never noticed he was touch-starved until the sensation of it felt like it’s own little thrill. “If I can’t accept condom talk, I probably shouldn’t be having sex.”
“We’re definitely going to get along,” Steve told him, spreading his legs encouragingly. They were so close that Bucky could feel the movement beneath his hands more than he could see it, and he almost lost his balance from where his hand was braced on Steve’s thigh. It seemed to be the effect Steve was going for because his steadying hand ran up Bucky’s side with emphasis. “But only if you start with the foreplay in the next thirty seconds.”
Bucky pulled back to pour some lube over his fingers, and no matter how practiced he was at the motion from a lifetime of use, it always seemed like too much or too little came out. It was cool and slick between his fingers as he observed Steve carefully and knelt beside the bed so he was closer to being on eye level to the way Steve was inviting his touch. Bucky took the time to pay attention to Steve’s dick, awkwardly holding his sticky hand close to himself as he mouthed over the tip, tasting latex and lube until Steve started making an effort in controlling his breathing, his arm tucked under his head as he watched Bucky.
Bucky was gentle but firm with his finger as he drew it down the line of Steve’s cock, over his balls and back towards his ass, circling and pressing until Steve’s body welcomed him in. There was always a moment no matter how many times he fingered someone that Bucky wondered at the marvel of the human body and the capacity to take a dick.
Steve smiled at him as he explored, which was even more encouraging than his body language had been. He looked like he knew what he wanted and what he could expect. It might be a common sort of trust, but if there was ever a time you were vulnerable, it was when you were having sex with someone you hardly knew. Bucky had never been good at hiding that frisson of anxiety.
All the tension seemed to drain from Steve’s body as Bucky inserted a second finger, and he separated them a little, exerting pressure against the walls of Steve’s hole while he moved his hand in and out. He paused to use more lube and then kept going, watching Steve’s face and keeping his left hand slowly moving over Steve’s dick to keep him lowkey aroused and interested in what they were doing.
Bucky had something to prove, after all.
“I’m ok for it,” Steve told him. “Keep doing this as long as you want, I like it, but I’m ready when you’re ready to fuck me.”
Bucky almost rolled his eyes and kept moving his fingers, sliding them in and out of Steve until he groaned and his thighs relaxed, going pliant and needy beneath him.
“There’s no rush,” Steve promised, looking at Bucky from beneath half-closed eyelids. It was a flirty expression that went with his red, teeth-bitten lips. “Whenever,” he breathed, the word hitching on the R as Bucky deliberately pressed his fingers up into Steve’s prostate. “Take your time,” was such a total lie. Steve was desperate for Bucky to put the condom on and fuck him.
It was heady.
“Maybe sometime I’ll string you along like this for up to an hour,” Bucky said, leaning close so he could say the words in Steve’s ear, knowing how effective a whispered confession felt when you were already writhing. “Maybe longer. But we’ll plan it ahead of time so you can really anticipate it as the main event.”
“Fuck,” Steve breathed, looking amused and winded, flushed and pretty as a bead of sweat ran down from the hair at his temple. Bucky used the shift in Steve’s attention as the opportunity to put the condom on, his own dick painfully aroused and anticipating sliding easily into the man laid out in front of him. Steve shifted, stretching his legs so he could accommodate Bucky settling between them.
Bucky slowly guided his cock into Steve, one hand braced on the mattress at Steve’s waist and the other moving from his cock to Steve's hip once he was lined up. He leaned forward, his nose bumping against Steve’s as his mouth sought out a kiss. Steve reacted to it, his eyes closed and his chin tilted back as he breathed.
“Yeah,” he said, shifting the tilt of his hips slightly as encouragement. Bucky took the word as more than encouragement, it was also agreement that Steve was ready and into it and wanting.
It was easy to give Steve what he wanted because it was what Bucky needed in that moment as well. He moved smoothly, aware of his body’s movements and how they would feel for Steve, at first aiming to take Steve apart and then each thrust became a little more erratic as his goals became more and more selfish, urged on by the mounting pleasured pressure of his own orgasm. Steve wasn’t helping by the way he was moving, using his thighs curled around Bucky’s waist for leverage to move into each thrust.
They stopped talking and just focused on feeling.
Bucky tried to control his breathing, his eyes almost crossing with the effort not to come before Steve did. It was definitely a competition at this point. He’d spent all that time fingering Steve, there was no way he wasn’t more on edge than Bucky was, especially since his hand was moving up and down his own dick. Bucky tangling their hands together to help spread some of the lube still tacky between his fingers.
Finally, Steve’s back arched in a way that would probably be seared into Bucky’s brain for years, as he came and whined, a high pitched sound of pleasure.
He’d probably remember that for years, too. As a reminder that Steve wasn’t perfect at everything.
And that was it. Bucky was gone.
“Not bad,” Steve decided, panting as he stared at the ceiling. “You’re pretty-ok at this.”
“Fuck off,” Bucky answered, laughing and throwing his arm over his eyes. Everything seemed bright, his skin sensitive and sharp as he resisted rolling into Steve. This wasn’t that kind of fuck but being in his own bed was throwing him off. He fought for his head to clear, leaning up on his elbow and opening his eyes. “I’ve had better than you too, you know.”
“I hope so,” Steve agreed. “But, you know, you’re solidly ok at this.”
“I’ll put that on my resume,” Bucky said in a dry tone, sitting up entirely so his sweaty skin was exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. “Competency at sex: solidly ok.”
Steve snorted and then sat up, leaning over to grab his underwear from the floor. "Thanks, it was good stress release."
Bucky smirked at him. "I'm sure you're not hard up for stress release, but you're right about us being forced together for the foreseeable future. So, any time."
"I'll think about it," Steve answered, pulling on his shirt. The material clung to his damp skin in places. It emphasized the way his skin was stilled flushed and his hair was damp and bedraggled, a sex-mussed mess that made it seem like anyone who looked at him would know how he’d spent the last hour.
"I'll let you out." Bucky rolled to his feet, feeling that post-orgasmic languidness to his limbs as Steve continued dressing. Bucky didn't bother putting anything on, just leaned against his dresser and watched Steve put his pants back on, watching for a quality to his movements that said he was freshly fucked with a sense of pride.
Steve looked at him and seemed to know the direction of Bucky’s thoughts, giving him that sly, knowing look as he finished dressing, his eyes roved from Bucky's face down to his dick. "How about next week?"
"That's the most flattering thing you've said to me yet," Bucky responded. Then he shrugged because why not? "Sure, may as well."