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As a teacher, Steve knew that not all parents were created equal.

Throughout the year at various functions like parent-teacher conferences, dances, and art shows, he’d learn who put pressure on their kids to be perfect at all times, who didn’t care enough to show up, and who were a great medium between loving and supportive but not too heavy-handed.

It also gave him a chance to learn which parents were respectful of the teachers - or not - and which ones were attractive. Hey, he was trained to appreciate beautiful things, and a guy can look, right?

At the current open house for the Shield School, there were a few parents he might’ve flirted with if they had run into each other at a bar or something, and as terrible as it sounded, the teachers would get together and make a scale from ‘Nope’ to ‘Hell Yes’ on the parental offering each year. Steve didn’t really participate in that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t look.

He’d never felt the temptation to cross the professional line with any of his students’ parents, not even a little bit. His morals, career, and reputation were too important to him to ever consider it. Not for any that he’d met so far, and he felt sure that he’d never-

“...art room, Daddy!”

Steve turned around to see a pair enter his classroom: a truly adorable little girl with deep red hair tucked into a neat bun, and gray-blue eyes staring up at him in excitement, playfully dragging a man in a suit along into the room. Steve got down on his knees to talk to her a little better.

“Hey there! What’s your name?”

She grinned like the sun. “Alianovna Romanova-Barnes!”

Steve’s eyebrows rose. She had said it quickly and with a Russian accent and he couldn’t understand exactly what it was that she’d said, so he did the best he could.

“It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Steve Rogers, but you can call me Mr. Rogers.” Steve heard the girl’s father, presumably, crack up from above them. Steve ignored him; it was nothing he hadn’t heard before.

“You can call me Ali!” The little girl said. And, yeah, Steve could work with ‘Ali.’

“Do you like art?” he asked her.

“She loves art, it’s her favorite,” said the man above them in a deep voice that was somehow gravelly but smooth all at once. Steve looked up at the man’s face for the first time and-

Holy. Shit.

Steve had always been a fan of men who could wear suits but he’d never seen anyone wear a suit like that. He had also never been a fan of man-buns but this guy had, in an instant, changed his mind. His chestnut hair was pulled into a bun not unlike Ali’s, with a few tendrils loose that framed the most chiseled jaw Steve had ever seen outside of a greco-roman marble sculpture. Steve gulped and rose to his feet, dusting his knees off and trying to avoid a mental picture where he stayed on his knees for this gorgeous man.

Steve cleared his throat and offered his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“James Barnes,” the man said, with a crooked smile that did truly awful things to Steve’s mental fortitude. Steve tore his eyes from the man’s mouth and looked into eyes that were the same blue-grey as Ali’s, but full of weight and mirth in equal measures.

They shook hands, and if Steve had been asked if it felt like a literal shock to his palm to grasp James’, he’d say no up until his dying day. And it would be a bald-faced lie.

“Nice to meet you. Well, Ali,” he said, reclaiming his hand and addressing the little girl, “What grade are you going to be in?”

“Second!” She exclaimed proudly.

“Whoa, you’re practically a grown-up!”

She beamed at him.

“Look,” James said quietly to him, “Can I ask what kind of credentials you have? We’re transferring over from Red Room Academy and it was kind of a shit show over there. Ali is gifted and talented, and not only were they not adequately meeting her needs, but they were hiring teachers with forged credentials who knew nothing about proper child care or primary education, much less gifted and talented education. So, y’know, I’m bein’ real careful this time around.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I heard about the bust they did there. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but you’re far from the first parent to ask me for my résumé. Honestly, I get a lot of parents thinking that I must be an art school drop-out, and why are visual arts so important, anyway? and stuff like that, so I like to be prepared.”

He pulled open his desk drawer and plucked out a paper from the stack he had at the ready, and handed it to James.

“Daddy!” Ali tugged on James’ sleeve. “Look at the mural! Can I go see it?”

“Sure, baby, just don’t leave the room.”

“Okay!”

James looked over Steve’s résumé with eyebrows that visibly rose with every line. When he reached the end, he let out a little whistle.

“That’s quite the curriculum vitae you have here. Master’s in studio art from Columbia? What’s a guy with a résumé like this doing teaching elementary art? Not to be rude or anything, but I’m curious.”

“No, it’s a fair question,” Steve shrugged. “I don’t know if you know this about Shield School, but it’s pretty expensive-” James snorted in agreement “-and they pay me better than any other place in the borough. Artists don’t always get to work in the field and make a decent living at it, so I’m lucky. Also, I love kids, always have. So getting paid a comfortable wage to hang out with them and make art isn’t exactly a hardship,” he laughed.

James smiled at him and Steve’s stomach swooped.

“Any kids of your own?” James asked, and Steve shook his head.

“Nah. Not yet, anyway.”

"That's a shame. I can tell you from personal experience they're even more fun when they're yours. Waiting for the right moment to have them?”

Steve smiled back. “Just waiting for the right partner, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence while they watched Ali look over the supply shelves and shout her excitement over the spectrum of liquid watercolors Steve had lined up. When he looked back over at James, the man was staring at his daughter with a fond smile and eyes full of love.

Steve melted.

“Is there, uh. Did you have any more questions for me?” he asked James.

“No, that’s it for now. Just gonna have these credentials confirmed, and if something’s out of place, I’ll let you know. That gonna be a problem?”

Steve raised his eyebrows again. He almost couldn’t tell if James was being serious or not, but apparently he was. “Oh, no, be my guest. I assure you that everything checks out, but I don’t blame you for being extra careful.”

James nodded and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “You know, with this extensive amount of studio education, one has to wonder why you aren’t putting on gallery shows left and right.”

Steve just gave him a cheeky grin and responded, “Who says I’m not?”

---

Bucky Barnes was a just a man. He was not above stereotypes, was not above assuming the art teacher at Shield School would be a middle-aged hippie lady who was super into new-age music.

What he got was over six feet of jock/probable underwear model with a résumé so comprehensive and impressive Bucky would swear it was faked if it wasn’t for the earnestness that radiated off the guy. Mr. Rogers - and that had Bucky laughing still, because despite his obvious bulk and musculature, the art teacher seemed to be about as threatening as the children’s show host - had a laugh like sunshine and looked at Ali in a curious way, not a condescending one.

It almost made him not bother with the background check, but, well, they’d been burned before and nothing was more important that Alianovna’s safety, happiness, and intellectual development. She’d had none of those things at Red Room Academy. But, looking back on all of the teachers they’d met at the open house, Bucky couldn’t help but hope it would be different this time.

But just in case...he put Mr. Rogers' paper with the rest and called Clint anyway.

---

The late September Saturday was hot, like summer couldn’t quite let go. Bucky and Ali were on their way to get ice cream from the corner cart they loved a few blocks up, and Bucky had Ali on his shoulders. She was a very good navigator.

“Look, Daddy, it’s Mr. Rogers!” she said excitedly and moved his head to the left. Sure enough, through the window of the Broad Brush Gallery, Mr. Rogers was staring at a painting. “Can we go say hi?”

Bucky was hesitant. As much as he wanted to talk to the man, he didn’t want to disturb him. “No, baby, Mr. Rogers is busy. Besides, it would take longer for us to get our ice cream.”

“Ohh, that’s true. Carry on.”

Bucky laughed and they made their way to the ice cream stand.

Later that evening, after Ali had her bath and was tucked in bed, Bucky looked up the website for The Broad Brush and found their featured showcase page. On it: one Steve Rogers and his truly gorgeous paintings. Bucky had an itch he felt sure only Steve Rogers could scratch; but if there was a line, that definitely crossed it. He’d never compromise Ali’s future like that, so he tamped it down.

---

Autumn parent-teacher conferences were going well, but Steve had yet to see Ali’s parents. He had learned over the quarter that Ali’s mom was a prima ballerina and was often away traveling with New York’s best ballet company, so he wasn’t sure if he was going to get to meet her or not. Either way, he was eager to tell them about Ali’s progress.

A few minutes later, James and a small red-headed woman entered his classroom, and James greeted him with a crooked smile.

“Mr. Rogers,” he said, and gestured to the woman with him. “This is Ali’s mother, Natasha.”

Steve shook her hand and felt very sure that he’d never want to meet her across a poker table. They sat down in front of his desk, and Steve made sure his classroom door was closed before speaking.

“Look, I’m going to be frank here,” he started, and Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “We’re not supposed to have favorite students, for a multitude of reasons. But there’s no way I can’t...Ali is... she’s extraordinary.”

James smiled proudly as if this wasn’t news to him at all, and Natasha said simply, “Oh?”

Steve nodded and continued. “Last month we were doing papier-mâché, and I had the kids mâché balloons so they could make masks. Ali didn’t do that.”

“What did she do instead?” James asked.

“She made a to-scale replica of the Eiffel Tower. The measurements were accurate and everything, I checked.”

“Of course they were,” said Natasha. “She’s particular about these things.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

---

Some days Steve ordered takeout, some days he braved the grocery store. Today was a grocery store day, because Sam had berated him about his eating habits again, so he thought it worthwhile to at least get some food in his pantry.

He was trying to decide whether to bother with frozen pizzas or not when someone came around the corner and nearly bumped their cart into his.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry, wasn’t paying attention…” the man said.

“James?” Steve asked, and sure enough, there was Ali’s father, his cart loaded with pizza rolls and beer. Steve raised an eyebrow and looked at the man proper. This was the first time he’d ever seen James without a full suit, and the t-shirt and jeans were practically painted on his muscular form. Those things attracted Steve like a moth to a flame, but what was really his undoing was the full-sleeve tattoo on James’ left arm.

It wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill work. They were old-school, Sailor Jerry style, but intricate and bright and detailed. Steve not only wanted to see every inch, he wanted to see how far up the sleeve went. Did it end at James’ shoulder? Did it spill onto his torso? Did he have more?

“Ali’s with her mom this week, so I thought I’d cut myself some slack,” James said in defense of his cart.

Steve tore his eyes away from James’ arm and laughed. “Hey man, no judgements. I feel proud of myself for even shopping, usually I subsist on takeout.”

James eyed him up and down in a way that wasn’t strictly professional. “Really? I’d have figured you for someone who’s really careful about what they eat, with a physique like that…” he trailed off and coughed awkwardly, a blush staining his cheeks. That was very interesting, indeed.

“Well, I guess I got lucky in the metabolism department. We’ll see how long it lasts.”

“Huh,” said James.

“What?”

“You just...keep surprising me, is all.”

“Well that’s what you get for making assumptions about me,” Steve said cheekily.

James threw his head back and laughed. “That’s… completely fair.”

They visited a few more minutes before excusing themselves, because Steve felt sure he could talk to James all evening, never having picked out dinner for himself while James’ beer warmed and his pizza rolls melted.

When they turned their carts around opposite corners, Steve couldn’t help but look back at James, who was also glancing over at him, too.

Be careful, he told himself. That’s such a slippery fuckin’ slope.

---

The Christmas pageant came and Steve saw James, once again in a suit, once again looking too good to be allowed, once again staring adoringly at his daughter. He caught Steve’s eye and gave him a wink. And no, It wasn’t Steve’s heart that was beating out of time, it was those damned loud bell performers.

---

Bucky and Nat went to the Winter Showcase in January, where Ali’s Eiffel Tower papier-mâché and a few other pieces would be displayed. He talked to Mr. Rogers for a little bit, and when they walked away to view the rest of the show, Nat looked at him with an eyebrow quirked.

“What?” he asked, feeling very much flayed open.

“You were flirting with him.”

“...No, I wasn’t.”

“James Barnes, are you hot for teacher?”

Bucky groaned. “Clint’s starting to rub off on you.”

Natasha honest to god laughed.

Naturally, the Eiffel Tower won Best in Show. Mr. Rogers looked so proud on Ali’s behalf it made Bucky’s chest hurt. The teacher gave her a hug and a high-five, and she giggled with delight. Bucky wanted to see that on the weekends, in the park, everywhere but at school.

If there was a line, that definitely crossed it.

---

Spring parent-teacher conferences came, but without James. A blond man accompanied Natasha, and introduced himself as Clint, Ali’s stepdad.

As he gave his report to Clint and Natasha, he found that he liked Clint very much, and was glad that Ali had so many supportive people in her life.

Of course, meeting a stepdad confirmed that James and Natasha were no longer an item, which meant there was a possibility that James was single. Not that it mattered or anything, it was just an interesting and completely benign piece of information. That was all.

---

Steve saw James on ‘Bring Your Dad to School’ day, and was absolutely smitten when James sat down in the little, plastic art room chair with his hair tied back, his suit jacket nowhere to be found, and his sleeves rolled up. He cut quite the picture, and it was clear that some of the other fathers weren’t sure what to make of him or his non-standard appearance.

It was also evident that James did not give a fuck. It was evident that he was entirely too focused on Alianovna and her needs to care what a bunch of schmucks thought of his hair or his tattoos. But it made one hell of an endearing sight, to see a big, hulking man like that absolutely pliant for the little girl perched on his knee.

James tried to draw a picture of him and Ali, but Ali was having none of it. She wanted to change the color of James’ tattoos, so he pushed his sleeve up to his bicep and laid his arm out on the table for her. Ali colored it in with different markers, altering the tones to suit her fancy. James just tucked her hair away from her eyes as she worked, talking quietly with her all the while.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from looking at them more often than was entirely appropriate, but he felt such fondness for the pair, and he wasn’t sure how to stop.

Every now and then, Steve would glance up to see James looking at him, eyes full of something. Steve wasn’t sure what it was, but he was very sure it wasn’t appropriate in any way.

Steve wanted to wake up to that look.

If there was a line, that definitely crossed it.

---

Mr. Rogers was Ali’s very favorite teacher. Bucky thought this warranted a gift for Teacher Appreciation Week that was slightly above the Starbucks gift card caliber. He talked it over with Ali, and together they went down to an art supply store and bought Mr. Rogers the very best set of watercolors that money could buy.

If there was a line, this maybe crossed it.

---

Bucky was at Commando’s Bar with Clint, letting loose after Nat decided to take Ali to St. Petersburg for a week. They played pool, with Clint kicking his ass and clearing out his wallet as usual, when suddenly Bucky heard a laugh like sunshine. He looked over at the bar to see none other than Steve Rogers, having a drink with a buddy.

“Next round’s on me,” he told Clint without looking away from Steve.

“They’re all on you,” Clint corrected him.

Bucky nodded and headed for the bar.

-

Steve was out with Sam celebrating the end of the school year, taking pleasure in the temporary reprieve from planning lessons and grading assignments. Sam was in the middle of a story when Steve heard a familiar voice on the other side of him, and he turned to see James ordering drinks.

“James?”

“Oh, hey, Mr. Rogers,” James smiled at him.

“...that’s just great,” Sam muttered from behind him. “One mildly hot dude comes up and suddenly I’m chopped liver. ‘Great story Sam, I’d like to hear the rest. Oh wait, no I wouldn’t, I’d like to stare at this guy’s ass instead!’”

Steve nodded and half-heartedly waved at Sam without looking.

“How have you been?” he asked James.

“Oh, pretty good. Ali and Nat are in Russia for a few days so Clint and I came out to shoot the shit. He’s prepping the table to take yet another piece of my pride.”

“Pool?” Sam asked with interest.

“Yeah, man, blond guy with the purple shirt. Be my guest- lord knows he’s kicked my ass enough for three lifetimes. He could do with some fresh meat.”

“I do love a challenge…” Sam said and grabbed his drink before sauntering over to introduce himself to Clint.

“Now that’s settled,” James said, slipping onto the stool next to Steve, “Tell me, Mr. Rogers. Got any plans for the summer?”

-

“Steve, please,” the gorgeous man in front of him said. “Mr. Rogers is for school and students.”

“Well then, call me Bucky. James is for Nat and work.”

“Bucky,” Steve said, and smiled. “I like that, it suits you.” Bucky loved that smile, and he wanted Steve to wear it all the time. “Oh, thank you for the watercolors, by the way. Had my eye on that set since I was a teenager, but never got around to getting any. That was very thoughtful, so thank you.”

James felt pride and satisfaction well in his chest. “A great teacher like you deserves a great gift.”

Steve swirled the beer around in his glass and gave Bucky a considering look. “So does that mean I passed your background check, way back when?”

“Oh, yeah!” Bucky laughed. “I did legitimately vet you, but you came back clean, just like you said.”

Steve grinned at him. “Told you so.”

He was such a little shit and Bucky wanted to kiss the breath out of him.

They talked for about three drinks, somehow moving closer and closer until their thighs and shoulders were touching. Steve’s blue eyes sparkled with golden light from the lamps behind the bar, and he was so handsome and his voice was so intoxicating and Bucky wanted so very badly to see how it sounded when it was wrecked.

If there was a line, that would definitely cross it.

Bucky got up and excused himself to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and get a grip. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, and tried to talk himself down. It’s not right, it’s not professional, it would only hurt Ali.

No Steve.

NO.

He sighed in resignation. As he was emerging from the bathroom, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket to read the text.

From: Nat
Got a call from Hill, she’s in

Bucky’s heart soared with pride and he suddenly realized there was a side-effect from Ali being accepted into the most prestigious school in the country.

If there was a line, it wasn’t there anymore.

-

Steve sat at the bar alone and asked for a glass of water. In the mirror behind the whiskey bottles, he watched Sam and Clint play pool and laugh, and he was glad they were enjoying themselves. He, however, needed to get a fucking grip.

Do not go there. That’s a very bad road to walk down.

He drank half of his water in one gulp, and just then Bucky sat back down, eyes shining with unbridled happiness.

“Guess what just happened?” he asked, not giving Steve enough time to answer. “Ali got accepted into the Stark Institute.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Holy SHIT! That is amazing! Not that I don’t think she belongs there, but...my god, how did you even get an interview?”

“Well, I sort of work in the R&D department at Stark Industries, and one day I was in the elevator with the boss man, and he asked how my kid was doing, and I answered honestly. I didn’t think he really cared, or that he’d do anything about it, but apparently he talked to the headmistress at Stark Institute, Miss Hill. And I guess she goes way back with Headmaster Fury, and he vouched for Ali. They wanted to see her test scores and then they had all these private assessments and I was sure they’d say ‘no thanks’ but they fucking SAID YES and my daughter is a student of the MOTHERFUCKIN’ STARK INSTITUTE!”

Just then they heard a shout from the pool area.

“FUCK YEAH!” Clint cheered, grinning madly and staring down at his phone. He then looked and pointed at Bucky. “OUR BABY GIRL IS IN THE ACADEMIC ELITE, BITCHES! DRINKS ON US!”

The whole bar cheered.

Bucky was so goddamn beautiful when he was glowing with pride. Steve wanted to devour him. And then, it occurred to him, he could. He stared at Bucky, and he wanted so badly to kiss him, he wanted to get on his knees and suck him off, he wanted to feel Bucky on top of and entering him. Bucky stared back, his face just as hungry as Steve felt.

“This means-” Steve started.

“Yup.”

“We could-”

“Yup.”

“Should we-”

Yup.

---

Bucky gave Steve all of the time it took to order a cab on his phone and for him to make sure the bartender had his card info before he tucked it back into his wallet. Then they were on each other, kissing like it was their last few seconds alive.

When Steve’s phone dinged to tell them their cab was there, they hastily made their way outside. Though it was bad form, they kissed in the back seat, unable to keep themselves away from one another.

They kissed in the elevator, they kissed in the hall, they kissed against Steve’s door, they kissed as it closed and locked behind them. Bucky would be happy to kiss Steve forever.

After Steve had secured the last bolt on the door, he made short work of removing his shirt, and started unbuttoning Bucky’s.

“Do you have any fucking idea what your arms do to me? Especially with your sleeves rolled up like that? And your fuckin’ tattoo…” Steve moaned into Bucky’s mouth, caressing the colored skin of his forearm.

“Yeah? I knew you liked it,” Bucky said, nipping gently at Steve’s lower lip.

“I fucking love it,” Steve gasped, and Bucky pushed him back and pinned him to the door. “You got any more?”

Bucky grinned devilishly at Steve and pulled away, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way to reveal his naked chest, and that his tattoo extended down his shoulder and over his heart. Then he unbuckled his pants and dropped trou, revealing the large tattoo on his right thigh in the same Sailor Jerry style as his arm, watching Steve’s face all the while.

“Oh my fucking god,” Steve moaned, and sank to his knees.

-

Bucky’s skin was enchanting, and Steve kissed over the tattoo on Bucky’s thigh and right up over the cock still hidden by Bucky’s perfectly tight boxer briefs.

“Can I?” he asked, mouth watering.

“Fuck yes, you can do whatever you want, wanted this for so damn long.”

Steve looked up at Bucky, his hands barely around the elastic of the boxer briefs. “Yeah?”

Bucky reached down and stroked Steve’s cheek. “Ever since I first saw you, this linebacker-looking dude who went to Columbia and teaches art to little kids. Drove me crazy. Fuck but I have wanted you every day since.”

Steve didn’t even have words for how that made him feel, so he pulled Bucky’s briefs down and took his cock down in one go. Bucky cursed violently above him and tangled his hands in Steve’s hair, and Steve moaned as he drew back and then deepthroated Bucky again. When he withdrew back once more, Bucky pulled him off and Steve growled in frustration.

“Not that I don’t want to come down your throat, because I do, a lot,” Bucky said, “But this first time, I want to come when I’m inside of you. And I’m tired of not being there.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, if you’re not pinning me down and fucking me in the next two minutes I might legitimately lose my damn mind.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Bucky asked, and pulled Steve up into another filthy kiss. “Bedroom?”

Steve couldn’t really focus on words to explain so he leaned over and hauled Bucky up to carry him. Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist and gasped, and Steve felt Bucky’s cock twitch between their bodies. They kissed as they made their way down the hall and into Steve’s bedroom, where he all but threw Bucky onto the bed. After he took his own pants and underwear off, he crawled on top of Bucky.

“Thought you wanted me on top?”

“Oh, I do,” Steve promised. “But I can get myself ready faster.”

“Okay then,” Bucky agreed, and surged up for a kiss.

Steve fumbled around in his drawer and tossed a condom onto Bucky’s chest while he grabbed the lube and slicked himself up, working in a finger, and then two, in the time it took for Bucky to roll the condom onto himself. Once he was done, Steve scooched himself and took Bucky’s cock in hand, so damn ready to have it inside of him, finally.

“Already?” Bucky asked, “Just like that?”

“Just like that. I know how to take a fuckin’ cock, Bucky Barnes,” Steve said, and lifted his hips up.

“I’ll just bet you do.”

He sank down onto Bucky’s cock, slow enough to give himself time to adjust and time for them both to savor, but quick enough that it wasn’t a tease. When he was finally full, Steve let out a long moan and gripped Bucky’s chest, overwhelmed by how perfect it felt.

Just then, Bucky flipped them over, and true to his word, used those beautiful, tattooed muscles to pin Steve’s forearms next to his head. Bucky’s grip was bruising, or at least Steve hoped it was. He wanted colored shapes on his arms to match Bucky’s and he wanted Bucky to be the one to give them to him.

Once they were situated, Bucky used his thighs to nudge Steve’s open more, and Steve wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. He was pinned down and Bucky’s strength and weight over him were delicious and everything he’d ever wanted. But when Bucky moved? When he finally started thrusting in and out of Steve, and the slide was so perfect Steve thought he might cry from how good it felt?

He could have died and gone to heaven.

-

Steve drove Bucky wild, willingly submitting all his bulk and strength to Bucky like he was. He was so tight and hot around Bucky’s cock and Bucky knew he wasn’t going to last long - could never last long, not this first time.

Not after wanting Steve so badly for nearly a year.

As he thrust into Steve, he kissed and sucked marks into Steve’s neck and throat, making Steve gasp and clench around him. He rolled his hips, shifting his own just slightly to get a better angle, and then Steve cried out in ecstasy.

Yeeees! Oh, fuck, right there Bucky, please,” he begged, and wasn’t that just about the best damn thing Bucky had ever heard?

“Whatever you want, gorgeous,” he said, and kissed Steve as he kept the angle true but thrust in deeper and harder. Steve moaned brokenly under him, and Bucky shifted his grip on Steve’s forearms, sliding his hands up until his fingers twined with Steve’s, and Steve squeezed his fingers back.

“Wanted this for so long, Buck-” Steve started, and cut himself off with another gasp.

“Buck?” he teased. “I kind of like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I kind of like you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, it was so cheesy. Steve laughed too, although his laughter was broken into more moans because Bucky never stopped thrusting.

“Well,” Bucky growled into Steve’s neck, “I kind of like you, too. Think I might keep you a while.”

He doubled down on his thrusting and Steve’s back arched, as he clamped down on Bucky’s cock. They were both almost there, so Bucky let go of one of Steve’s hands, and with his left, reached down to stroke Steve’s cock.

-

“Look, babe.” Bucky ordered, and Steve glanced down in his pleasure-hazy brain to see Bucky’s beautiful hand caressing him to completion, the tattoos on his muscles flexing as he twisted his wrist and the sight of that did so many things to Steve. He felt his orgasm peak and his whole body tensed as it crashed through him, spilling everything that Steve was across Bucky’s fingers and his own stomach.

Bucky’s hips faltered their movement and he thrust several seconds more before he shoved into Steve as far as he could and Steve could feel Bucky’s cock twitching as he released.

After a few long moments, Bucky pulled out and took deep breaths. Then he got up, took the condom off, and stumbled around Steve’s apartment until he found the bathroom, and came to clean Steve up before he settled himself back in to cuddle.

Even though Steve was the larger man (but not by much), he immensely enjoyed Bucky pulling him to his chest and cuddling him close. As their breathing returned to normal and the warm, buzzy feeling faded from Steve’s mind, he felt Bucky petting his back and placing kisses on his forehead.

“Mmm. How are you?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky sighed contentedly. “I...I am absolutely perfect.” He kept rubbing Steve’s back for a while, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his gentle fingers. “How are you?”

Steve pressed a kiss to the ink on Bucky’s chest, just over his heart.

“I’m right as rain.”

And he really, really was.