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Riled Up

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They smell like alcohol, hair gel, and heavy smoke as they stumble into their home. These scents stick to their clothing and Steve opens the kitchen window to let in some fresh air, to dump out the stuffiness of the apartment. Bucky’s head feels cloudy, the window should be open. Good job, Steve.

“G’job, Steve,” Bucky says and fishes out a cigarette from his pocket. He sinks down onto the couch. It feels good to get off his feet after a night of dancing.

“Huh?” asks Steve. Bucky sighs and strikes a match. Why is it so fucking dark in here? What, are they living in some kind of mausoleum? Steve turns on some more lights.

“I said good job about the window. You’re the best guy I know, Steve.” Then he lights the cigarette and brings it to his lips. Steve shuffles out of the kitchen area behind him and sways over to where Bucky lounges. The floorboards creak and cry as he moves.

“You’re drunk.” Steve whaps his knuckles on the back of Bucky’s head, affectionate in their own kind of way. Bucky exhales.

“You know, that pretty girl was makin’ eyes at you, I thought she mighta ask you to take her home,” Bucky notes and rests his head over the back of the couch, cigarette dangling from his lips and looking up at Steve.

“Mm-hmm,” Steve hums.

“I mean it, Stevie, she was real into you.”

“I know.” Steve thinks about hitting Bucky again but decides against it. A slow and wandering sigh escapes his mouth in a hiss and he stumbles on over to sit down next to Bucky, the ratty cushions sagging and the sounds from outside the apartment bleed on in. Horns honking, Brooklyn accents floating all around in various volumes, chattering, singing, sighing and that gentle whooshing by of cars. Rubber rolling over street. “And she sure was a beauty, the things I woulda liked to do to her,” Steve mumbles.

Bucky’s eyes fly open. He speaks around the cigarette, frowning. It suddenly feels like he had two less drinks tonight. “What?”

Beside him, Steve sits samely. Knees spread, shirt untucked, head leaning back and looking so damn sleepy. A happy drunk.

“I said, she was damn good lookin’ and if it weren’t for this absolute drip I’m livin’ with, I woulda brought her home and we woulda had a very long night together.” Steve’s lips are moving and Bucky’s hearing but it’s not sinking in too well. And then when it does, Bucky has to fumble to grab at the smoke in his mouth because he’s gonna choke from laughing too goddamn hard. He’s wheezing, alright. That’s fucking funny, that’s what it is.

Steve isn’t laughing, though. He’s turning his head and looking at Bucky with a coldness to match the one drifting on in from outside. It quiets him. Bucky doesn’t understand why Steve isn’t laughing, too.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he asks Steve.

“You think it’s funny?”

It’s hard to pinpoint in what exact way Steve is looking at him because Bucky sees two of Steve, but there’s anger there in his voice for certain but it’s the kind he knows that comes from sadness. To cover it up, almost. Bucky picks his head up to get a better look at Steve.

You actin’ like you know your way around a dame? Screw being an artist, you should pursue comedy, pal.” When Bucky says these things, he doesn’t mean them in nasty ways, he means them in truthful ways. It’s something the two of them have always been open about; Steve’s never been with a woman. Bucky’s fooled around with his hands up some girls skirts but, really, he’s never been with a woman either. And if Steve’s trying to tell him that he’s been beaten to it, well. Bucky doesn’t know what, he didn’t think that’d happen.

Steve huffs and then mumbles, “Just ‘cause I haven’t done it yet doesn’t mean I don’t think of things I’d like to do.”

“But how can you know what you wanna do, when you don’t even know if you’d want them?” Bucky says, taking a drag.

“You’re drunk as a skunk.” The affection is gone from Steve’s voice now.

“No, I mean it. How do you know what to do?” Bucky tries to say it straight. God, he really tries. But his tongue is heavy and his brain is halfway gone. He ends up laughing through the question.

“You’re a real jerk sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m just havin’ trouble picturin’ it, is all. ‘Cause, I mean you can’t just go right to town, you gotta know what you’re doin’,” giggles Bucky through a lung full of smoke.

“I know, Buck.”

Bucky reclines back against the couch and smiles. “And that means, you gotta actually talk to girls, you know that too?”

“Gee, I didn’t think about that, lemme get a piece of paper and I’ll jot this all down.”

“And when you talk to ‘em, they like it when you look ‘em in the eye generally. And-”

“Jesus H. Christ, enough is enough, Buck.”

Bucky can’t help it, it’s too funny. “Hey, I’m just tryin’ to help a guy out! And buddy, you’re a pretty smart guy in lotsa areas but romancin’ ain't one of ‘em!”

“Would you shut the hell up?” Steve growls. The wind blows outside but the air inside doesn’t move. Steve’s jacket is all bunched up next to him on the couch and his jaw juts out and makes him look mean. Bucky sure hates being on the receiving end of that look, makes him feel like he did something really wrong. Bucky’s tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

Drunk brain is a little slow and it takes seven long seconds for Bucky to apologize. “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“What, am I not allowed to get riled up sometimes?” Steve bites off.

“Pal, you get riled up enough for all of Brooklyn on a weekly basis.” Bucky takes another drag.

“Not that kind of riled up.”

“Oh.”

They both stop fidgeting for a little and just listen to the noises of the streets. It’s September and during the day it’s sunny and still sticky to the touch but at night, a cooler something comes along to settle everything down. Bucky can feel Steve breathing next to him, his lungs quiet tonight, no rattling, no sir. And eventually, Bucky’s breathing lines up with Steve’s.

“You ever kiss anybody?” Bucky asks quietly. Steve doesn’t answer. What he does do is stand up slowly, like he has to check where his feet are and then check again where he wants to put them. Craning his neck, Bucky turns to watch Steve go back to the kitchen window and pull it shut. All of a sudden, the noise dampens. It’s not gone, just muted. But it makes a hell of a difference. Bucky blinks.

“What’d you do that for? The air felt nice.”

Bucky pops the cigarette back in his mouth so that his hands can rub at his eyes, greasy eyelids. The lumbering footfalls tell him that Steve is coming back over to where he sits, he doesn’t know why they don’t just go to bed. It’s awful late. Bucky’s hands come down and his eyes open.

“What’re you doin’?” he questions, frowning lightly. Steve is standing right in front of him, knees almost touching his own. His hands are hanging by his sides, his straight brows blank, and lips pouting. Jesus, Bucky really doesn’t want to deal with one of his fits right now, what happened to their good night? Did it slip out the window? Did it float around in the air before falling down the rungs of the fire escape into the alley below where it flirts with the dumpster?

Steve’s cheeks are red. “Don’t talk,” he says in that deep voice of his. Bucky cracks a smile.

“Who, me?”

In a fraction of a second, Steve’s thin fingers are at Bucky’s tie. Pulling and picking at the knot, combing it loose. He can feel Steve’s breath, angry fuming near his throat. Sticky.

“The hell are you doin’?” Bucky barks, his own hands coming up to yank Steve’s away. “I can get my own tie off, thank you very much. I’m drunk but I ain’t that drunk.” His words are slurred by the alcohol and the consonants don’t all connect around the shrinking cigarette. In quick abandonment of his tie, Steve clutches Bucky’s chin with one hand while the other settles down by the base of his throat. He pulls Bucky’s face to look up at him.

“I thought I told you,” he breathes, pupils blown and staring hard into Bucky’s wide, blue eyes. “to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.

Well, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. That right there did something incredible to Bucky. The way Steve said it made his throat stumble and wobble and forced his face to flush. The rush of blood pooling in his cheeks almost hurts and Bucky’s paralyzed as Steve resumes pulling off his tie. The material makes these little shuffling noises as Steve feeds it down and around Bucky’s neck, throws it on the other side of the couch where his discarded jacket lays.

Drunk brain is trying so very hard to keep up with what’s happening. Steve’s staring hard at him as he reaches to pluck Bucky’s smoke from in between his lips and drops it to the floor and crushes it under his shoe.

The look he’s shooting at Bucky is something uncharted. If Bucky thought his angry look was something to behold, this was something to fear. It’s everything he sees before he has to man handle Steve away to stop him from punching someone, or from spitting out words that are best not repeated unless Bucky’s working down at the docks where everyone’s mouth sins hot. This look, though. It’s got something more to it, something hungry for an outcome other than a bloodied fist. It’s determined and heavy and nothing Bucky ever expected to see on Steve. Never aimed at him.

“What’re you doin’, Steve?” Bucky asks again, in a whisper.

Then Steve is in his lap, skinny legs straddling his thighs. Bucky’s eyes go even wider. There’s a gentle weight on each shoulder, cold fingers resting on the fabric of his shirt. Should Bucky do something with his hands?

His eyes stay open as Steve leans forward to put his lips a centimeter away from Bucky’s. He knows this isn’t good. That they could get in real trouble for this. But Steve’s eyes are trained to his mouth, just watching with that angry Steve look. Then slowly, slowly, Steve’s eyes scrape up Bucky’s face to meet his gaze.

He stays perfectly still. Steve’s hands tighten slightly at his shoulders, still gentle as their lips meet. It’s chaste, simple and Steve’s lips are so warm. They don’t close their eyes. They stay like this for a couple coiled seconds with their eyes steady on one another, just pressing their lips together in what’s got to be the most frightening kiss of Bucky’s life. Steve pulls back, just a centimeter away again. Maybe to see if everything’s okay. Steve looks about as red as Bucky feels.

He feels Steve’s hesitation in the air. That hungry look isn’t gone, it’s sitting there plain as day on his best friend’s features, but there’s a patience here now, too. Bucky should really do something with his hands, shouldn’t he shove Steve away? Maybe even punch him for trying something like this? God, he should. Fellas aren’t supposed to kiss one another, but Steve’s always been fearless. And the Lord himself knows that wherever Steve goes, Bucky follows.

With his right hand, Bucky cups the back of Steve’s neck and tilts his head before crushing their lips together. He sighs into it as Steve makes a sound, just a tiny vocalization in the back of his throat. Bucky pushes forward, further into Steve and into warmth. Steve doesn’t know how to kiss and that’s just alright by Bucky.

He softly licks at Steve’s bottom lip. Their eyes aren’t closed, just drooping. Somehow, it’ll be too much and too real if they close their eyes. Steve drops his lip just slightly and Bucky wants to hit Steve upside the head, he’s really going to make this a piece of work for Bucky, huh? Typical. Bucky glides his tongue all along Steve’s lip in a thank you and takes a strange pride in how Steve’s eyelids flutter. Bucky tilts his head a little further to get a better angle as he moves his lips against his friend’s; a previously stationary left hand flattens against the small of Steve’s back so that he can press further and Bucky’s back peels away from the couch to deepen the kiss. He wants Steve to know that he isn’t afraid. That everything will be okay between them, no matter what happens after this.

One of Steve’s palms inches down to the center of Bucky’s chest and puts some distance between them as Steve breaks the slow kiss. His eyes drift down and roam all over Bucky’s face. Bucky thinks he might even say something because of the way he can see those gears turning in Steve’s head.

He’s not expecting to be shoved backwards against the couch cushion violently and having to practically catch Steve as he launches himself at Bucky. And maybe it’s because it’s so abrupt, but Bucky can’t help but moan lightly as Steve’s mouth covers his own. His eyes fall shut in surrender and eyebrows furrow and he holds Steve there, kissing him. Steve likes to nip at his lips, quick sharp little things that seem to sum Steve up perfectly. Bucky commits the feeling to memory and prays that Steve’s eyes are closed, too.

He’s absently aware of Steve’s hands in his hair, petting the nape of his neck. Carding skinny fingers through strands of hair. It’s an action so shockingly sweet for angry, angry Steve that Bucky whimpers.

Drunk brain bought a train ticket and left, Bucky is alone in these sensations. Floating through them in a daze. He’s starting to sweat, to feel that pulse throughout his body and Jesus Christ, Steve just keeps kissing him dizzy. Their lips are soaked, slimey and hot as they slide over one another, noses bumping. It’s clumsy and Bucky loves it.

Steve shifts forward, letting his weight fall onto Bucky’s stirring cock; he gasps and Steve bites down on Bucky’s bottom lip. Another tiny whimper falls from his swollen mouth and Steve takes it as encouragement to roll his hips once. His hips are sharper than a dame’s, his hands larger, his mouth just as aggressive as always and Bucky’s hit with the realization that this is Steve on top of him. Steve.

Bucky breaks from the kiss just to say his name, to cradle it. “Steve,” he breathes. “Stevie.”

Steve uses the opportunity to plant a kiss on Bucky’s chin, right where the dimple is as Bucky clutches at his waist, thumbs rubbing over his ribs. It makes Steve sigh into his neck. Then he presses his lips to Bucky’s throat, real gentle at first. Then one with a little more force about half an inch down. Then another, this one wetter. Another, another. Down to the base of Bucky’s throat where Steve settles and kisses hard.

Bucky’s eyes are screwed shut and he hopes to God that Steve won’t be scared away by his stiffening cock. In another quick minute, he’ll be fully hard and it won’t be very easy to ignore. His worries are eased a bit by Steve’s gentle hands in his hair still, stroking so pleasant and steady.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers again. He doesn’t mean a single thing when he says it. He just wants to say it. Steve must take it to mean something else because just then, the hand in his hair tightens and tugs, hard. Bucky’s too shocked to do anything at all. The movement pulls his head back and opens up Bucky’s neck even further; Steve’s lips grin wickedly against the hot skin of Bucky’s throat before he places them overtop Bucky’s adams apple where he begins sucking.

The combination of harsh tugging on his hair, the warm and sticky lips on his throat, and having his best friend, Steve fucking Rogers ontop of his cock rips out a loud moan from Bucky. It’s a broken thing, garbled and rickety.

Fuck,” Bucky groans and does his best to hold Steve in place while his hips buck upward. It feels like his whole body is on fire. He’s never felt like this with a girl, never felt like this with anyone other than Steve. Never felt this desperate. “Kiss me,” pleads Bucky.

Steve obliges. This time the kiss is all smashing teeth, rocking hips and heavy breathing. Much to his dismay, Steve’s fingers leave Bucky’s hair in favor of fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. As they pop open one by one, cool air hits Bucky’s chest. He sits forward as quickly as he can to slide it off of his shoulders and keeps one arm looped around Steve to keep him from sliding off of his lap. Their lips rush to meet each other again.

Bucky cups Steve’s face in both of his hands and holds him there sweetly. He tries to slow the kiss, so that maybe it’ll stop feeling like he’s falling, but it does nothing. It just makes him feel like he can’t get close enough to Steve. Steve’s hands wander over his chest, the taut muscles of his stomach. Does Steve like muscles the same way dames do? Bucky wants more, needs more. He moves a hand down to Steve’s collar, to unbutton his shirt, too, so that Bucky can trace his skin and map it out, press his lips to each and every rib and hold Steve down to watch him come undone.

Good Lord, Bucky’s never wanted so badly in his life. But Steve swats his hand away, takes it in his own and threads their fingers together. Bucky’s lips are going to be bruised tomorrow with all the biting Steve is doing but he doesn’t care, it won’t be the first time Steve Rogers has given him a bloody lip.

Steve guides Bucky’s hand down to his crotch and places it overtop of his erection. He flattens Bucky’s palm down and grinds up into it, the heat coming off his cock bleeding through the fabric of his pants and Bucky’s gasps.

“Christ, Steve,” he says. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

Steve’s blunt nails scrape down at Bucky’s abdomen and he delivers in a low, commanding voice. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth, James Buck.”

Fucking hell, Bucky thinks he could come right then and there. His head falls down onto Steve’s shoulder, mouth open and panting as he desperately tries to roll his hips up against Steve’s. With eyes squeezed shut, he let’s Steve trace patterns over his navel, allows his hand to stroke over the waistband of his pants but never near the fasten. He keeps circling his hips even though his cock hardly receives any relief, and he’s barely aware of his mouth tumbling out words.

“Steve, Stevie, please. Give me somethin’.” Bucky’s making sure to be quiet, voice just barely a whisper. He doesn’t want to get reprimanded by Steve again, no wait, he needs it. Maybe Steve can tell he likes it too much, because the evil fucker just pulls Bucky by the hair up off his bony shoulder to look him in the eye.

Bucky is sure he’s a hell of a sight. If it were anyone but Steve in front of him, he would be embarrassed. With his hair all mussed up and face a shining crimson, cock aching, lips swollen and begging, Bucky feels so small. He feels like the girls in his mind, in his fantasies, the ones he takes home and has his way with. The ones he tortures with gentle touches and kisses and affection before entering them when they beg for it. He feels girlish, and right now, Steve is the most powerful man in the world.

Steve’s pupils are so large, the ring of blue is stretched so thin it looks like it might snap. Much to Bucky’s pleasure, his lips are also bright red and puffy. Bucky did that, God, he did. He digs his thumbs into Steve’s hip bones and pulls Steve down with the strength he can find in a slow roll. Steve’s eyes fall closed and Bucky kisses his neck, Steve’s pulse thrumming under his lips. Hot blood running under hot skin, tasting salty and like Steve. Bucky hums against Steve’s throat.

Their hips move together.

Bucky licks his way back up to Steve’s mouth where his lips are met with excitement. A smiled kiss, a shared want. Steve’s fingers find his nipples and Bucky wants so badly to get Steve out of his clothes. Their tongues flick against one another; Bucky wants to taste more and more. His teeth feel like they’re in the way, don’t they understand that he’s trying to taste all of Steve and his warmth, his Steve?

His eagerness in punished by a quick pinch of his left nipple and Bucky whines. Steve tweaks it again, holding the tightness longer this time. Bucky’s hips snap up, breaking their rhythm and stuttering. His lips fall from Steve. Jesus Christ, Bucky’s eyes are tearing in frustration, the only thing on his mind being more, more, more. More of Steve. He wants everything. Goddamn everything.

“Please, Steve. Can I…” Bucky has to catch his breath. “Can I get you out of these clothes?” He says, and it was meant to sound flirty, but it came out in the smallest voice he’s ever heard himself use. He looks up to find his best friend watching him with a locked jaw.

“You’ll come like this, or you won’t come at all.” Steve says simply, deadly-like. And rolls his hips while looking Bucky in the eye.

Bucky is shaking.

It’s so fucking hot in here, it’s like he can’t breathe. Something similar to a sob leaves his throat as he leans back on the couch, trying to pull Steve’s weight on top of him. But, as usual, Steve Rogers isn’t the most cooperative man. He stays put. Half and arms length away and fully dressed.

There’s a salty stinging in Bucky’s eyes and he can’t believe he’s almost crying because his cock hurts so bad. He can imagine how red it is, how it would match the shade of red on Steve’s lips and how it would look so pretty to shove his dick in Steve’s stupid fucking mouth, to shut him up. The image only makes him moan and his predicament worse. Bucky’s hips pick up speed.

In an act of some sort of mercy, Steve’s fingers find Bucky’s hair again. He’s pulling and tugging and scraping his fingers over Bucky’s scalp while he rocks against Bucky’s upward thrusts. Tiny sighs escaping his lips.

“Buck,” Steve moans, so softly with a crooked arch of his back. It’s so beautiful and Bucky wants Steve to stay like that forever. God, with his name spilling out of Steve’s spitfire mouth, deep voice, bright eyes shot to shit with lust. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen; Bucky feels a tear leave his eye and start to roll down over his cheek. He wants to touch skin, to feel Steve’s heartbeat, to be inside him, to drive him crazy so all he knows is pleasure. Bucky wants to make Steve feel so good that he’ll never want a woman again.

Steve is his.

The tear is wiped from his face harshly and immediately followed by a kiss. Steve sucks on his tongue, on his lips, brings his hips down hard and clutches at Bucky.

“So pretty, Steve. You look so goddamn good like this. On my lap, fuck. Like you fuckin’ belong there.”

Steve nips at his jaw. “If you don’t stop talkin’, I’ll walk away.”

Bucky grips his hips tighter. “No! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

His other nipple is tugged on this time and it pulls a groan from him. He wants to come so bad. He wonders if Steve can feel his cock throbbing even with the two layers between them, he wants to show Steve what he’s doing to him. He wants to take back what he said about Steve being inexperienced and all the laughing he did earlier, it’s not fucking funny, his cock hurts.

Bucky’s whimpering, their hips bucking together and causing the couch legs to rattle. He never knew his nipples were so sensitive, is that why girls seem to like it so much? Bucky can feel his throat start to close, he’s so frustrated, so turned on, so willing to do anything Steve says.

He’s drunk and crying and mouthing at Steve’s neck when it starts deep in his belly. Bucky’s muscles get tighter, his stomach clenching. Then his abdomen. He slows his grinding and holds Steve down on his cock, never wanting the friction to leave him. And Steve, handsome Steve looking down at him with his stupid smirk. The smirk that says I’m Right. Bucky hates that face, he fucking loves it. Steve thumbs over the tips of his nubs, ghostly light. Over and over. And over. Hot breath puffing out and mingling with Bucky’s.

“James Buck, I want you to come for me.”

Chapter Text

In the morning, they don’t talk about it. They don’t talk about how Bucky had his fingers twisted in Steve’s shirt and how he ground his teeth and groaned as he came, they don’t acknowledge how Steve rode it out with circling hips only to slink off Bucky’s lap and finish himself off in the bathroom while moaning Bucky’s name. The memories are filed in the same place every other stupid drunken escapade is: not to be mentioned.

And it works. They both pretend that they were too drunk to remember a thing for three whole weeks. And things are their kind of normal.

Until Friday night comes and Bucky returns from work reeking of the docks and whiskey. He’s not stumbling over himself, just slipping on his words as he saunters into the kitchen, high on the idea of the weekend and still running on the bit of whiskey McCullum poured him.

“Is that Sarah Rogers’ famous potatuh soup I’m smellin’?” Bucky just about yells in disbelief as he watches Steve’s back fix up dinner on the stove.

“Sure is, but we ran outta milk mid-recipe so I had to use some water to make up for it. Ain’t gonna taste quite the same,” Steve sighs and turns around. The sun streaking in from the window right besides him casts a harsh shadow in a diagonal over his features and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow for preparing supper. And maybe it’s the minuscule amount of alcohol in his system, maybe it’s the three-week-old feelings that still bubble and sizzle under his skin, but Bucky thinks that Steve looks real handsome right now.

“Is that your way of warnin’ me that it’s gonna taste like shit?” Bucky stifles a smile when Steve rolls his eyes.

“No.”

“Then I guess we don’t gotta dump it and start over. Hell, it smells fantastic, Steve,” Bucky says as he pushes closer to the stove. He practically moans after getting a whiff of it. “Haven’t had this in goddamn years!”

“S’why I made it.”

“And because you know I’m comin’ home from a hard day’s work and all.”

Steve turns back around to give the pot a stir. “Naw, that’s for sure not why.”

“Gotta feed your best guy,” Bucky bumps. “Gotta make sure he’s eatin’ good so he can stay big and strong.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s thinking. “He ain’t that big and strong…”

He scoffs before a slow smile crawls it’s way up Bucky’s lips and it perches there confidently. It’s so fucking easy to get under Steve’s skin. Bucky folds his arms and leans back on the table behind him with ease; he clears his throat.

“So, I’m your guy?” Bucky asks it all buttery and Steve stills but doesn’t turn around.

“Nope.”

“I think you just said so, Steve-o.”

“You’re dreamin’.”

And when Steve moves from stovetop to sink to rinse off the wooden spoon, he’s pink as anything and Bucky’s smile only grows. If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t quite know why it makes his heart flutter.

“You know, I tell the guys down the docks all the time ‘bout you.” Bucky prompts, raising his eyebrows at Steve. His friend won’t meet his gaze, he just busies himself as best he can without making it too obvious and Bucky almost laughs. “I tell them how I got someone home who cooks the most wonderfulest meals I ever tasted and how they do most of the cleanin’ and takin’ care of everything. How they do my laundry for me when I come home tired as a dog.”

“You tell them I’m your slave or somethin’?”

“You know what they say to me?” Bucky tilts his head and pokes at Steve’s back. He sighs in response.

“What do they say, Buck?”

Bucky takes a few steps forward to bend down and whisper in Steve’s ear as they both watch the potato soup boil before them.

“They say it’s must be sheer, dumb luck that little old me got a girl that sweet.”

Steve turns and shoves Bucky away from him with surprising strength and he stumbles back into the table with his hands in the air. Steve’s skinny shoulder is hunched up as if in a delayed wince to Bucky’s words. His nostrils are flaring and God, Bucky may have gone too far; it excites him.

“I’m not your fuckin’ girl,” Steve seethes. Bucky licks his lips.

“I know you ain’t.”

“‘Cause you’re not my guy.”

Bucky stays silent for several seconds while Steve glares at him, chest moving up and down rapidly. He planned on saying, ‘I know I ain’t.’ But something stops him. And after looking into each of Steve’s angry, blue eyes a couple of times each, he says something else instead. “You sure about that?”

Steve lunges forward and pushes Bucky again by the shoulders, the force of it screeching the table backward a few inches.

“Will you cool it?!” Bucky yelps.

“I’m not your girl,” repeats Steve. He looks deadly serious like he’s never looked before. And it’s upsetting because, really, Bucky didn’t mean no harm in teasing Steve. Bucky blinks and sighs, softening.

“Stevie, I know. I’m just teasin’. I just - I don’t know how to say it a lot.”

“Say what?”

“Thanks.” Bucky states. “You know, for everything. Sometimes I forget how much you’re doin’ here and it takes Artie and Don and whoever else talkin’ about what a lucky guy I am for me to realize all over again.” At this, Steve backs off a little but his eyes still uncertain. “They say, Buck, you got a great gal and don’t you let her go and I say you got it wrong, pals, it’s just my best guy Steve. He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Steve stares at him a while. Bucky thinks he must have said something wrong again. The little clock on the wall ticks and ticks and still Steve glowers, bony fists curled by his side. Suddenly, he turns and clicks the stove off then shoves the lid on top of the pot. The heat coming off the stove in their tiny kitchen is making them both sweat.

“I won’t let him,” Bucky finishes.

When it gets no reply from Steve, he shuts his eyes with a grimace. He hates when they fight. It hardly ever happens, he never knows what to do with himself.

“Buck,” comes Steve’s steely tone. Bucky’s eyes snap up.

“Yeah?”

“How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, Steve! I -”

“I smelled it on you as soon as you walked in, don’t bullshit me. I just wanna know.”

Bucky frowns. If Steve wants to blame his behavior on alcohol, he can go along with that just fine. Maybe it’s not the best option but it’s the easiest one. “Enough,” Bucky admits lamely.

Steve blinks and steps towards him. “Good,” he says before pulling on Bucky’s suspenders.

Then, as fast as anything, they’re kissing. Steve’s on his toes for certain and Bucky scrambles, eyes going wide. And his own hands come up to support Steve and hold him tight right there in their shitty kitchen. A sharp pain blooms in Bucky’s bottom lip and he makes a surprised noise as he tastes coppery blood spill out from where Steve bit him. Steve licks at the cut, maybe in apology, maybe in anger or something else and the memory of Steve’s mouth on his just doesn’t do it any fucking justice.

Bucky scrunches his eyes shut and pulls Steve closer, pushing his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Everything is hot to the touch, the thin fabric of Steve’s shirt, the heat of his lips and breath fanning out from his nose, it’s most likely the last warm day of September before the chill sweeps in and so Bucky guesses that it wants to make itself count. He exhales into Steve and wraps a sweaty arm around his back.

When Steve is pulled forward, he steps on Bucky’s toes without apology and only grips his suspenders tighter and he tilts his head to kiss harder. Steve is unrelenting and Bucky can hardly breathe, he wonders how on Earth how it could be that Steve is fairing better than him with those shitty lungs of his. Bucky’s going lightheaded from all of it and he places a palm on Steve’s cheek to gently break them apart.

Bucky wants to say something, like maybe how he isn’t really drunk enough for this. But, well, they pretended the first time. Why should this be any different? They pant together.

“You got somethin’ to say, James Buck?” Steve challenges and Bucky flounders as Steve runs a hand down his chest so fucking slowly and softly. Jesus, it just goes straight to his cock and makes his legs feel like jelly.

“Uh, n-no, but-”

“Spit it out.”

“God, I been thinkin’ about this ever since, Steve.” Bucky admits, dipping his head low to kiss Steve’s jaw. “Haven’t stopped. For weeks now, just thinkin’ about you.” He presses a series of kisses all along his friend's jawline and works to untuck his shirt from his pants with one hand. Steve is not about to go another round fully clothed, not if it’s up to Bucky. Which it might not be. And that sends another thrill down his spine.

Steve is gone that instant and Bucky is aware of how sticky and humid the entire apartment is. Steve is walking, away, out of the kitchen, his own hands working to unbutton his shirt with his lips straight and determined. Bucky blinks in confusion as Steve turns to walk toward the bedroom and he has to lean back on the now crooked table for some support. He’s empty-handed now. Bucky’s just full of the wrong words tonight, huh?

“You comin’ or do I gotta finish myself off alone again?” Steve shouts.

Bucky flails into action, sprinting out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. When he gets there, Steve is facing away from him and looking out the window with his hands on his hips. Bucky can tell by the way his shirt is bunching up that it must be unbuttoned and he wants to spin Steve around and run his calloused fingers all over his skin. But he’ll be patient. For Steve. There’s fire burning in his gut but it’s got plenty of fuel to burn through.

“You okay with this?” Steve finally says, turning around with a look of genuine concern in his eyes.

“Okay with what? Foolin’ around?”

Steve smiles humorlessly. “With doin’ what I say? Because if not, you can go find a dame to get off with.”

Even though Steve only comes up to his shoulder, Bucky feels like he’s looking up, up, up at Steve in this moment. Like he might as well be kneeling. Bucky swallows.

“Don’t want no dame,” he shakes his head slowly. “Want you.” And, God, it feels too honest to say it out loud like that. Something shifts in Steve’s gaze, a darker tone taking over and anchoring itself there and makes Bucky gulp.

“Good. Now strip,” Steve orders. It’s his deep, commanding voice that pushes Bucky into action so quickly and he starts by unclipping his suspenders and sliding them down and off his shoulders. He throws them in the corner of the room, acutely aware of how Steve’s eyes follow his every move. And Jesus, his fingers are trembling as he pops the buttons through each hole and Steve’s eyes slide down in notches with each one that comes undone.

He yanks it off and lets it pool by his feet and clumsily twists each shoe off. They’re discarded with little care and Bucky shimmies out of his work pants and the friction feels heavenly on his half-hard cock. Then he’s got his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers when Steve stops him.

“Leave those on for now. Get on the bed,” Steve clips and Bucky’s heart rate spikes. What is wrong with him, why does he like this so much? He moves to his own bed where it rests against one wall and sits there, waiting for Steve to do something, to say something. Steve stomps over to his drawers, pulls one open and takes out one of his ties. He turns his attention back to Bucky and walks over to where he sits with dark, angry eyes.

“Lay down.”

Bucky does.

“Hands up.”

Oh, oh. Bucky hesitates. Jesus H Christ, that’s what the tie is for.

Get your fuckin’ hands up.” Steve orders, grabbing Bucky’s chin as he leans over him, lips parted and expectant. Shit, Bucky’s hands fly up.

He doesn’t even think, he doesn’t give the words permission to come out of his mouth, he has no time to stop himself from whimpering out, “yes, sir,” as Steve loops the tie around his wrist and knots it. But as soon as he says it, Steve stills. And then shudders as his eyes slide down slowly from Bucky’s knotted wrists to his dilated eyes.

He swings a leg over top Bucky and sits on him, both hands pinned to Bucky’s to keep them stationary as he leans down to press their mouths together, open and wet. The warm weight on top of his cock even through the material of his boxers is so welcome and Bucky moves his hips slowly, carefully in case he isn’t allowed to do that.

Steve rewards him with a soft moan into his mouth and Bucky licks at his tongue. Everything is ungodly slow. Steve parts his lips further and then closes them around Bucky top lip while he slides his fingers into Bucky’s hair. It’s not rough or angry, it’s purposeful. Bucky sighs up into the touch and feels the strands all coming loose from where they had been gelled into place.

Their lips move languidly and warmly. Keeping his hands together, Bucky finds that he’s able to move them down and place them around Steve’s skinny shoulders to keep him locked in place while kissing him. He doesn’t want Steve to get up and leave him, he’s been dreaming about this for three straight weeks. He tugs Steve closer to his hammering heartbeat.

“Did I say you could move?” comes Steve’s cold tone and something drops in Bucky’s belly.

“No,” he mumbles but doesn’t move his arms. He wants this shirt off, he wants it off now. He wants to see and touch Steve in the same way Steve is doing to him. “Wanna see you, Stevie. Please.”

Steve looks at him for a couple of long seconds. Then he takes pity on Bucky and slides his shirt off and dives right back to kissing the living daylights out of Bucky. He doesn’t even get a good look at him. But Steve’s skin is warm and feels so thin under his forearms and he’s just so glad to finallytouch.

Steve’s hand comes back to Bucky’s hair and he’s tugging now, the way he knows Bucky likes. And kissing down his jaw and neck. He takes his time, licking and sucking different parts of his throat, almost testing to see where Bucky likes the best. Which spots make his hips cant up and his breathing hitch.

“Steve, God. You gotta move a little faster, please,” Bucky begs and it’s met with a sharp bite at the bottom of his neck. He groans and Steve’s spit slicked mouth moves lower.

Now over his chest. He’s planting kisses down his sternum with incredible patience. Patience he’s never, ever seen on Steve Rogers. His pink lips close over Bucky’s right nipple and his tongue rolls over the nub in a flat stroke, Bucky closes his eyes. Steve keeps flicking over it and never lets his teeth scrape it as Bucky’s breathing grows heavier.

“Steve,” Bucky moans in whining. He hasn’t moved in what feels like minutes, he just keeps his mouth planted over his right nipple and it’s getting overly sensitive. Borderline painful. Steve looks up at him, their eyes meet, and Steve moves his jaw slightly and then bites down on the swollen nub. Bucky arches off the bed with a keen. Steve lets it go, then does it again. Bucky’s making tiny helpless noises, and Steve licks over the skin to soothe it.

Steve sits up and Bucky almost thanks God because finally, they’re moving along. But Steve just pushes Bucky’s wrists back up above his head and holds them there while he dives down to deliver the same torture to Bucky’s neglected nipple. He works just as slowly. Biting, licking, sucking, letting his spit pool on the burning skin. He moves back to the right nipple for a few more teases.

Bucky’s eyes are drooping, his mouth open in a silent cry. He doesn’t have any room in his brain to concentrate on his aching cock.

“Steve, please!” Bucky’s eyes burn with gathering tears. He’s not even embarrassed, there’s absolutely no room for it. He just wants.

Steve lets go of his wrists and kisses him hard on the mouth. “Alright,” he whispers. “Alright.” And then he runs a heavy hand over the bulge in Bucky’s boxers from tip to base. Bucky’s hips surge upward and he grits his teeth. Steve rubs him again, just slowly enough and with just enough pressure to give him some relief.

“Bucky,” Steve says. Bucky’s eyes stay glazed and glued to the ceiling. “Bucky.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t come.”

Bucky laughs. “Steve, if I don’t come soon I’m gonna start weepin’.”

“I don’t care.” The words are met with another warm rub through the fabric. But maybe, just maybe, Steve does care a little bit because he’s tugging Bucky’s boxers down over his hip bones and down his legs. Steve runs his fingers gently over Bucky’s thighs, down to his knee and up again. Bucky pushes his red cock up into the air whenever Steve’s fingers come close to touching him until eventually, Steve has to place his hands on Bucky’s hips to still him.

“Don’t move. Don’t come.”

And then there is warm, tight heat enveloping Bucky’s throbbing cock. Both of Steve’s hands are wrapped around him when he looks down, slowly moving up and down, up and down in a vice grip. Bucky tries not to buck up into Steve’s tight ring of fingers; his hips stutter. Steve is watching his shaft with interest and lust.

His hands come all the way up and swipe the precome off the tip before sinking down even tighter than before, now with something warm and slick to help the glide. Bucky’s mouth falls open and his head pushes down into the pillow, God, he feels like he could scream and it wouldn’t be enough. Because Steve keeps repeating this horribly slow and tight and merciless motion, never speeding, never slowing.

He twists his hands once, when he gets to the base of Bucky’s cock and tugs. Bucky feels a wetness on his cheeks and he realizes that he’s crying. Fucking hell, does sex with Steve always result in him crying?

Bucky can’t help it, he jerks up into Steve’s hands, stomach muscles flexing and Steve’s fingers close around him. He’s so hard, so red and hurting. It doesn’t register that it’s happening but he’s coming hard and fast all over Steve’s pale, bony knuckles. And Steve keeps jerking him, faster movements now to help him through it.

Bucky’s moaning and stuttering out Steve’s name. “God, fuck. I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Please, I’m sorry.”

Bucky is ready for Steve to climb off of him and reprimand him for disobeying orders. He’s not expecting Steve to continue to stroke him, backing off slightly to a slower speed. Bucky squirms at the touch.

Fuck! Steve, I said I’m sorry!”

“You said you were ready to do what I say,” Steve says and it sounds like he’s pondering out loud rather than actually talking to Bucky. “But you couldn’t. And since you like to come so much, I figure I’ll help you come again.” He says with an innocent shrug.

Steve's cheeks are pink now, too. There’s a tent in his pants and his blue eyes blown wide. Angry.

Warm white fluid slicks Steve’s grip on his thick, soft cock. His hands slide up and down and it twitches and pulls the tears from Bucky’s eyes. It’s too much for Bucky, but still, Steve doesn’t relent. He twists and tugs, pinches at the tip. Makes Bucky mouth silent cries and grunt in frustration to keep his hips from cantering upwards. Soon, the blood starts to pool back into his shaft and his veins bulge in strain against the skin.

“Such a pretty cock, Buck,” remarks Steve. His tight grip leaves and is replaced by gentle fingertips tracing the veins and arteries all along his cock. Steve’s thorough in his movements, like his strokes, his fingers go from very tip to base, excruciatingly slow.

Featherlight touches are all it takes for the second time. Bucky comes with a pathetic whimper, milky white semen dribbling down his sore cock and all over Steve’s blunt nails. His shaft twitches, throbs and aches in displeasure. Nothing yet has been enough and yet it’s all been too fucking much. With hips moving forward and back, muscles screaming and lips moaning around Steve’s name, he comes for what feels like thirty seconds. It’s the most heavenly agony he’s ever felt.

Bucky thinks that’s it. He can’t take any more. But he’s not in charge of that anymore and Steve wraps his fingers around his painfully sensitive penis once again. Bucky yelps and more tears spill down his cheeks. He tries to pull his hips back from Steve’s touch but the mattress is stiff and unforgiving.

“Steve! I’m begging you, please! I can’t!” Bucky’s almost sobbing, chest heaving.

“You can, and you will.” Steve says in that voice. Bucky turns his head and bites into the skin near his own shoulder to keep from screaming when Steve resumes stroking him.

It’s so unbearably warm and wet and sticky and tight. Slow. Steve keeps stroking. And stroking. He’ll use his nails occasionally. And Bucky’s fucking gone. Eyes somewhere far from here, lips wet and pink and open and panting. Thin bony fingers work him hard again in a matter of minutes and it hurts. Bucky’s crying silently.

He comes a third time, a weak dribble that coats more of his pubic hair in sticky white fluid. Steve doesn’t change pace as Bucky whines and writhes underneath him.

He works Bucky through a fourth orgasm.

“Please, sir! Steve, God. I can’t do it. I can’t. Sir,” is blubbered out.

A fifth orgasm, which is dry and painful and not pleasurable at all before letting his hands leave Bucky’s cock. It’s red and soft and pulsing and it slaps against Bucky’s thigh when he releases it, the contact makes Bucky sob. Steve glances up at Bucky to find him a mess.

Tears streaking down his face, red eyes so glassy and blown out he looks blind. His mouth is swollen from all the biting down on his lips he’d been doing and Bucky has no energy left to even meet Steve’s eyes.

“Good job, James Buck. You did good.” Steve leans down to kiss his cheeks lightly. His chin. His jaw. “You did so good.” He keeps kissing Bucky through his hiccupping sobs that rattle his weak body. Steve reaches up to untie Bucky’s wrists where he obediently kept them and throws the tie across the room. “Buck, you okay?”

Bucky nods slightly. It’s not convincing. But Steve doesn’t know what else to do. He loves seeing him like this. He loves having control. Steve grabs Bucky’s hands and moves them down, back to Bucky’s sides where they lay limply.

“Steve.” Bucky croaks.

“Yeah, pal?”

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole and I wanna make you come.”

Chapter Text

Steve leaves the bedroom, leaves a blushing and sweaty and very spent Bucky alone for two horrible minutes while he fetches a warm washcloth. And slowly, Bucky’s brain returns to him. He’d been gone for who knows how long, just feeling and not thinking. He doesn’t know how long Steve sat there, with, my fucking God, Bucky’s cock in his hands as he pulled climax after climax out of him. Bucky groans and throws his arm over his eyes while he catches his breath.

Steve returns with heavier footsteps than what should sound for a hundred-pound scrawny thing like him, and he climbs back on top of Bucky’s bed with a rag in hand. He starts gently wiping the come from where it pooled on Bucky’s stomach and Steve watches Bucky’s muscles move up and down with his breathing. He moves down to his abdomen, Bucky’s pelvis, the crux of his thighs and groin. He’s extra slow, no rough touches. And when Steve folds the washcloth to a clean side to swipe up Bucky’s cock, he tenses and whines and tries to twist his hips away from the touch.

Steve just places a hand on his hip to keep him steady as he cleans.

“Steve, I mean it, I’m gonna make you come.” Bucky grumbles it out, puffed up lips making him slur.

“Don’t think you’re in the right shape for that tonight.”

“Give me a couple’a minutes.”

Steve grips Bucky’s cock again in hand to prove a point and moves a thumb over a still bulging vein. It makes Bucky’s vision go blurry and his own hand shoots down to grasp at Steve’s wrist.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Just give me a minute. Gotta catch my breath, then I’m gonna make you feel so damn good, Steve.”

The fingers around Bucky’s length squeeze harder and his jaw tightens. Steve clicks his tongue at his tortured friend below him. “I don’t think tonight’s the night, Buck.”

“Yes, yes it is. Please, Steve. C’mon, let me return the favor. Wanna watch you come.” Bucky begs him, his nails gently scraping at Steve’s hand around him, silently begging Steve to release him. He catches Steve’s eye and nods in encouragement. Yes, let go, Steve and let me fucking touch you.

“No,” Steve states and Bucky’s fuming.

“Why the hell not, you tease?” he shouts.

“Told you, I don’t think you’re good for it tonight.”

“Well maybe if you stopped grabbin’ my overworked cock I could screw my head on straight and start touchin’ you!”

Steve’s lips curl at the corners and his eyebrows raise. He breathes out this tiny chuckle and Bucky licks his dry lips. “Don’t want your hands, want your cock.” The words are punctuated by, thank the Lord, Steve finally releasing Bucky’s sore dick. And makes Bucky’s brain short circuit.

Because, well. That’s queer. And they’re not queer, they’re just fooling around. Blowing off steam, right? Fuck, fuck, he knows it’s not just blowing off steam. Maybe it started that way but Bucky likes it, whatever they’re doing. And for Steve, blowing off steam is the only thing this is, Bucky’s sure of it. That’s how it started. And kissing, grinding, hell, even getting your hands on one another, all that stuff is surface level, ain’t it? Isn’t it, Bucky?

Truthfully, he doesn’t know, it’s not like he ever thought about it before. These past three weeks have only taught Bucky that he’s wanted to kiss Steve, to touch, to help him out when he gets worked up. His brain never got further than that, it was quite content to tease him with longing in just these ways but, God, fucking.

“Jesus, Stevie!” Bucky groans out as Steve kisses up his freshly washed stomach to his chest and then his neck. Christ, he can imagine it. His cock inside Steve Rogers. His cock. Inside. Steve. Rogers.

Fucking hell, how tight would Steve be? He’s so small, would his hole be that small too? Do men get pleasure out of getting fucked? Steve’s made it clear he wants it, and that makes the hair on Bucky’s neck stand up. Would Steve want it slow or fast? Would he moan or yell or grunt or whisper? Would his eyes be closed or would they have on that angry look as he takes Bucky’s cock?

Bucky grabs Steve’s neck and pulls him up for a hard kiss and doesn’t let him go when they separate.

“I wanna fuck you, and I want to tonight. But you’re still gonna hafta give me some time. I can, uh. I can help you get, you know, uh ready. Cause, that’ll probably take a little bit. And it’ll take the edge off, you gotta be achin’, Steve. And, and, I wanna help. Wanna fuck you. But, uh. Need some time.”

Steve’s breath in hot on his lips. His eyes are opposingly cold and expressionless, the only thing telling about their current situation is how blown out his pupils are. He seems to contemplate for a moment, and then softly presses their mouths together. His legs shift so that he can straddle Bucky and the material of his pants rub against Bucky’s sensitive length; Bucky whines and trails his hands down Steve’s back, hesitant, like if he does the wrong thing Steve might get up and run away.

Steve responds by licking gently at Bucky’s mouth. Never intruding, just toying with his already swollen and tender lips. Adding pressure, then subtracting it and just letting his lips graze Bucky’s with surprising docility. Bucky sighs and runs his fingertips over Steve’s knotted spine.

It causes Steve to press into him with a soft hum. Bucky does it again.

This right here is softer than they’ve allowed themselves to be and they both can feel it. Something a lot like warmth settles over top of them and pushes down with enough tension to break the trance. It didn’t mean to, but it did.

Bucky sits up, hands on Steve’s shoulders and breathing heavy.

It’s warm. It’s September. It’s Friday night. And Bucky is about to fuck his childhood best friend. They’re in the same bed, he’s naked, Steve’s halfway there. Jesus, how did this happen? What happened to double dates and dancing? To getting shit faced and singing as they strolled home and all the passerbys sidestepping the pair to avoid such rowdy young things.

“Buck?” Steve asks. Bucky blinks as he comes back into the moment.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” And goddamnit, he fucking stutters it out. Steve laughs at him and pushes the hair off of his forehead where it began to stick. Once Steve finishes chuckling, he just sighs with a tiny smile as he takes in the creases in Bucky’s brow.

“Go to bed, James Buck.”

“But what about you? C’mon, you can’t -”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes. “This isn’t fuckin’ fair and you know it.”

“Don’t care if it’s fair,” shrugs Steve. “And like I said, you’re not up for it tonight.”

“Bullshit, Steve! I’m tellin’ you, I want it! Stop actin’ like I can’t take what you dish out, pal, I been doin’ that since 1924! You’re a real tough guy, huh? Well, so am I!”

Bucky sits there, staring at Steve in hopes that he’ll change his mind. Steve stares back just as hard. And for a long moment, Bucky thinks that Steve is going to kiss him again. It might be himself that’s leaning in, though, it’s impossible to tell who starts inching closer first. Bucky prepares for another kiss that doesn’t come.

Suddenly, there’s an incredibly hot and wet warmth encompassing his limp cock. The sensation overtakes everything. Bucky flops backwards on the bed and a hand covers his face in shame as his lips part to let out a high pitched whine. He doesn’t think he could see straight if his eyes were open and his hips squirm around on the mattress.

”Steve,” he moans. “For fucks sake, give me a minute!

Steve’s tongue encircles his length as he slowly pulls off. He’s only gone for a second before Bucky feels the return of his touch, one hand gripping the base of his cock while Steve slides it back into his mouth. He bobs slowly a couple times and it’s so fucking wet and warm and Bucky’s heart rate starts to rise.

“I think you’re forgetin’ whose in charge here, Buck,” Steve scolds as he squeezes the base of Bucky’s cock. It causes Bucky’s free hand to scramble at the sheets. “But I think you got a point, so I’ll make you a deal. If you can stay still, and you can stay silent. And you can stay hard...you can fuck me when I’m ready.”

Bucky tries to sit up to kiss Steve in thanks. He’s nodding as Steve just places a hand on his chest to push him back down.

“Yes, sir.” Bucky takes Steve’s palm and kisses the center. He doesn’t miss how Steve blushes furiously before taking his cock in his mouth again. Bucky watches how Steve’s red lips spread around his member, how saliva drips from the corners of his mouth and down his cock and onto the sheets. Steve moves so fucking slowly in everything he does. A single flick of his tongue is enough for the blood to start to pool in his cock once again.

Steve pulls off to catch his breath. He looks up to Bucky in the meantime and their gazes meet briefly. Bucky’s cock is then licked from base to tip, soft gentle licks and Bucky has to fight his body not to buck up into the warmth. He’s halfway hard again already. Steve covers the tip of his cock with his lips and sucks at the red skin there, while squeezing the base. He hollows his cheeks and dips down to take as much of Bucky’s cock in his mouth that he can; it’s far from perfect, his teeth scrape Bucky’s sensitive skin, there’s still a lot left that Steve can’t fit but Christ does it feel so good that Bucky has to slap a hand over his mouth and screw his eyes shut.

Steve practices this movement over and over. Bucky’s chest rises and falls rapidly as his member is engulfed in tight, sweet, wetness and he has to chant to himself not to move, not to speak, not to moan or hum or whimper or try to sweet talk Steve. He just has to take it for a little while longer. Until Steve decides to show mercy.

“Good, Buck,” Steve praises. Then he ghosts over the trail of hair from Bucky’s belly button with a hard press and sits up. At least, Bucky thinks so. His eyes are still closed and he plans on keeping them closed.

The telltale sounds of discarding clothing can be heard and Bucky wants to break his own rule, but he’s terribly afraid that he’ll make some desperate noise if he were to watch Steve pull off his own pants. He waits, but no touch returns to him. There’s some more shifting on the bed and Bucky tightens his muscles, ready to hold in a whine. No touch returns.

Instead, a soft sigh is heard from the foot of the bed. There’s movement. Another, louder sigh. Oh, God, Steve is touching himself right here just a few feet away from Bucky.

Something ignites inside of Bucky, a fire deep in his belly. He wants to touch Steve.

Steve shifts by his feet and groans softly. The noise makes Bucky’s knees fall apart even wider than they are and he panics over his disobedience.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Won’t happen again!” Bucky fumbles for words as he instantly stills. He waits for punishment, or a response. He almost opens his eyes. But he still hears Steve moving around, can still hear his heavy breathing and stifled moans.

Bucky wants so badly for it to be his hands around Steve’s cock. But fucking hell, what a sight it must be. Steve’s beautiful bony hands circling his length, knowing where to pull and twists and when to slow down and speed up. Bucky wants to watch, he’s just afraid that he’ll break some rules.

Steve makes a strangled noise, higher pitched than the ones he’s been making. The bed rocks on its rusting frame from the subtle movements of Steve’s hips. Fuck, Bucky can see it. Steve blissed out face while he fucks into his own hand. Bucky bites his lip to keep in a heavy sigh.

“Bucky,” Steve moans. It’s so soft but heavy and matches the rest of his breathing. Its followed by another deep groan and wet noises, a stuttered hip thrust. “Oh, fuck.”

Bucky’s losing this fight. He wants to watch so badly. If he can just stay just like this, silent, still and so good for Steve, he’ll get to do everything. To touch and taste and fuck and make Steve come so hard he won’t come down for hours. Just the thought of him doing that to Steve Rogers makes his cock twitch up and hit his hot skin. It takes everything in him not to reach down and touch himself, but Bucky can be stubborn, too.

“Oh, God.” Steve is panting at the foot of the bed. His breathing coming out labored and intense, he keeps whimpering softly and trying to cover them with heavier moans. Buckys biting his lip bloody.

“Oh, James!”

Fuck, that’s it. Bucky’s eyes fly open. Just in time to land on Steve as he works on sliding a third finger into himself.

Bucky feels his entire body flush at the sight and his jaw drops. Steve’s eyes are trained on his as he sits against the metal frame and pushes and pushes his fingers further. Steve’s all pink, too. Legs wide open and his hips moving to meet his hand movements. Bucky doesn’t know why he assumed that Steve would be touching his cock, if he wants to get fucked, of course he’d be getting himself ready. Bucky feels incredibly dumb, incredibly surprised, and incredibly turned on.

Steve holds his friend’s gaze as he moves in and out of himself, mouth spitting out curse words and things that sound like variations of his name.

Bucky’s cock twitches again as he follows Steve’s fingers. As they’re swallowed up by his pink hole. Fuck, how goddamn tight must it be? He wants it, he wants it around him. He wants to be so far inside Steve that he can’t pull out, he wants to stay there forever and just pull sigh and sigh from Steve’s lips. And he decides in that instant, fuck Steve Rogers’ rules.

With a growl, Bucky jolts upright to grab at Steve’s waist. Steve makes his shocked gasp and Bucky could almost laugh if he wasn’t so goddamn bent on fucking the hell out of his best friend. Steve’s fingers leave him empty as Bucky picks him up to throw him down on his back, nostrils flaring. When their eyes meet, Steve responds to the fire in Bucky’s eyes with a deep flush and a genuine smile. Bucky’s heart stutters for only a second before he shoves two fingers into Steve’s mouth.

“Suck,” he whispers. With force. With cold eyes. To Bucky’s surprise, Steve complies. His hot tongue coats his fingers with sticky saliva and Bucky scratches down Steve’s pale torso with his free hand. Though he’s wanted to touch Steve all the fuck over, he’s much too impatient at the moment.

He pops his fingers free from Steve’s mouth and doesn’t give a warning before sliding them into Steve’s puckered hole. Steve gasps and arches, eyes on Bucky. Bucky smirks before harshly pulling them out and jamming them back in as far as Bucky can reach. It’s so warm and velvety against his fingers, tight beyond comprehension. With a twist of his fingers, Steve whines. Bucky pulls them out, fucks him again on his hand, curls his fingers, spreads them. They’re all harsh, fast movements so unlike all of Steve’s teasing.

Bucky’s able to pull these little, half-noises from Steve but wants to watch him come apart. He wants to drag out long, loud moans from him that leave him shaking and trembling.

He thrusts his fingers in harder and Steve’s eyes flutter. It makes Bucky smile and he leans down to suck on Steve’s neck, a little spot beneath his left ear. Bucky’s been kissed so fucking dizzy tonight that his lips almost hurt but he pressed them wet and hot to Steve’s throat just to hear him whimper. And just like that, Bucky’s cock is back to aching between his legs. Red and leaking, hot and heavy.

Bucky pulls his fingers out of Steve and hovers over top of him. The heat their bodies are throwing off is enough to heat the whole apartment for the upcoming winter. They pant.

“C’mon, James Buck,” Steve drawls. “Make me come on your cock.”

Chapter Text

Their lips almost touch as Bucky holds himself still over Steve’s body. His thin legs are hesitant around Bucky’s own thighs and Bucky uses a hand to guide them in a more secure position. He wants this so bad that he shakes.

Steve’s legs stay in place as Bucky spits into his palm and rubs at his leaking cock. He’s as liberal as he can be but doesn’t want to wait a whole lot longer for this.

Inching forward, Bucky puts the head of his cock against Steve’s burning skin. Barely touching. And Steve holds his breath. Bucky can tell by the way his chest stops moving and holds itself rigid. Bucky guides his cock forward again, just putting the slightest pressure against Steve’s hole; Steve shuts his eyes and grabs at the sheets beneath his head. Bucky’s not even inside yet and he can already tell how tight it’s going to be, he’s suddenly very aware that this might hurt his friend.

“Buck,” Steve says. “If you’re tryin’ to get me to beg, it ain’t happenin’.” He sounds breathless but enough like Steve that it breaks some of the tension. Bucky’s lips peel into a slight grin and he pecks Steve on the cheek. Wet and hard, still smiling. Then he stays there, just like that with his lips grazing the corner of Steve’s mouth as he shifts his hips to pushes into Steve.

Bucky’s lips fall open as he slowly slides inch by inch inside. His eyes screw shut as his cock is enveloped in the heat. Their chests move as they pant, sweaty skin sliding over sweaty skin. Bucky’s moving as slowly as he can, only about halfway there as he leans on his elbows to keep from collapsing on top of his friend. Steve tenses below him and emits some inaudible syllable, a choke.

Bucky pauses here a minute to let Steve adjust. It takes every bit of willpower not to snap his hips up and into Steve, to chase his own pleasure selfishly. But he waits and breathes against Steve’s cheek, giving him a few kisses and feeling him relax slightly with each press of Bucky’s lips. After a moment, Steve turns his head to peck Bucky’s lips and sigh back onto the pillow.

“Yeah.” Steve breathes.

“Yeah?”

Yes!”

Bucky slides another inch into him, hissing at the absolute tightness. Steve cards a hand through his hair gently in encouragement but the movement catches Bucky off guard and he jolts, sending pleasure through the both of them and pulling a moan from his lips. God, it feels so fucking good. Without meaning to, Bucky sinks all the way into Steve.

It’s impossibly tight around his throbbing cock. He can feel every vein, every inch of his member being squeezed and pulled further and further inside his best friend’s body. Steve’s eyebrows are slightly furrowed and Bucky rushes down to plant kisses along his neck in case he’s in more pain than he’s letting show.

Steve hums beneath and stutters on his own breath. His legs pull Bucky in further and presses them flush together, his hands in Bucky’s hair and along his shoulder, he’s completely entwined with Steve Rogers and nothing has ever felt this good. Bucky circles his hips experimentally; he’s not ready to leave Steve’s wet, hot heat yet, he just wants to savor this exact feeling. So, slowly, he moves his hips and tries not to lose his mind.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky hardly enunciates. “How’re you feelin’?”

Steve scrapes at the hair at the base of his neck. “I’m alright, just, fuck. Move. Slowly, yeah?”
Bucky pulls out just as slowly as he entered and Steve’s chest deflates. He lets the tip of his member sit just inside the tight ring of muscle before tilting his hips and working himself back inside. Biting his lip as he does so, Steve’s nails dig deeper into his scalp. Dear fucking God, it feels just as good the second time as it did the first. His cock twitches inside Steve’s heat and Bucky whimpers.

He slides out. And back in. Horrendously slowly, with just enough pressure to follow through on the movements. Bucky arms are straining to hold himself up, he wants to go.

He tests the waters by pushing in a little more forcefully the next time he thrusts. And to his delight, Steve moans. Fingers gripping his hair and shoulder tighter. Bucky ruts inside him and lets out a breathy chuckle. His heavy cock slides out slowly, is snapped forward with a grunt, hips lifting them both off the bed and they’re moaning together.

He repeats this. Slow, hot, wet exit and a sharp upwards thrust back in. The look on Steve’s face is something Bucky will never forget. He’s blushing the most beautiful shade of pink, his bangs all sweaty and sticking to his forehead, his eyebrows pointed down and looking like a bar fight made into a human. Oh, my God, Bucky is really fucking Steve Rogers, who he has known since they were tiny little things playing in alleyways. It should be wrong, it should feel wrong, but Bucky’s heart is pounding, is full of nothing but love and respect and want.

He growls and starts to buck his hips faster into Steve. Sliding one arm under Steve’s middle, he’s able to change the angle slightly and grip Steve’s waist, tight enough to leave marks. The miniscule realignment must change something monumental for Steve though, because he suddenly whines and arches off of the bed, clinging to Bucky.

“Shit!” he exclaims. Bucky holds him in place and does it again, his thick cock sinking back again into Steve’s tight walls. “Fuck! Keep doing that, right there, Buck.”

Bucky gladly follows his orders. Thick, wet sounds fill the room and mix with pants and moans. Bucky’s lost, he doesn’t know which noises are his and which are Steve’s anymore. Below him, Steve is lifting his hips to meet Bucky’s thrusts while his hands grasp at anything and everything Bucky. He’s positive that his shoulders and the back of his neck must be covered in scratches, he feels the burning against the open air. He loves it. He fucks Steve harder, teeth clenching and rolling his hips flush against Steve’s bony ones.

“Fuck,” Steve sighs. “I need- I need to. Buck, can you-” The hands on Bucky’s shoulders cause him to still and he lets out a noise of disappointment. Steve gives him an expectant look, eyebrows raised and eyes angry and wide. “Wanna be on top,” Steve pants.

At first, Bucky thinks of pulling out and letting Steve situate them. But that would take horrifically long and Bucky finally, finally has Steve right where he wants him. So, Bucky opts to flip them over himself, staying deeply seated inside Steve and keeping Steve in place with sweat-slicked hands. The motion has Steve gasping; he fastens himself to Bucky even tighter than before and positively keens when he resettles on top on Bucky’s cock.

Bony hands press down on Bucky’s stomach as Steve lifts himself and sinks back down. It’s a lazy, borderline slow action and his nails start to press little crescents into Bucky’s skin. His own hands fall on Steve’s hip to guide him as he fucks himself.

The new angle has Bucky bending his knees to thrust up as he pulls Steve down and his mouth is spilling out swears left and right. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Bucky babbles as Steve moves his hips from side to side. In search for that angle. He can feel every tiny movement Steve makes, his hypersensitive length twitching deep inside his friend.

Yes,” Steve groans, eyes falling closed. He leans backwards just a bit, his head lolling as he rides Bucky. His cock is swallowed again and again by the tight heat of Steve’s hole and Bucky bites his lip. Steve’s circling hips are entrancing to watch, as his length disappears in and out following by slick moans tumbling from Steve’s throat. His back is slightly arched, hands splayed out flat now on Bucky’s abdomen.

Bucky’s muscles are burning, his hands gripping Steve so tight that it has to hurt. His cock is leaking, straining in the best way possible. Bucky reaches out with one hand to wrap his fingers around Steve’s neglected cock. It twinges in his grasp and Steve inhales sharply.

Steve is then torn between shifting his hips downward onto Bucky’s length or upwards into his calloused hand. Bucky tries his best to keep somewhat of a rhythm between both. Steve only bucks his hips into his hand a couple times before he pulls Bucky’s wrist away from his cock.

“Keep doin’ that and it’ll be over too soon,” he says. “I wanna come from just your cock, anyways.” And Steve flashes Bucky this devilish grin and he sinks back down flush on his shaft. Bucky feels like he’s won the fucking lottery. Steve is so beautiful and human above him, sweaty and flushing, halfway wheezing and so fucking annoyingly, true to his character, stubborn as he chases his climax. His way or no way.

“Whatever you say, pal.” Bucky fights against rolling his eyes with a smile.

It’s easy to lose track of time when lost in pleasure, Bucky finds. He doesn’t know how long he spends underneath Steve, groaning and clutching at his friend while he uses him as a personal fuck toy. Bucky never thought that he’d be so entirely enraptured by watching a sexually aroused Steve Rogers, and yet here he is, doing his best to burn it into his memory.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Bucky reaches up to wind a hand around Steve’s neck to yank him down for a sloppy kiss. Their lips meet in a tangle and Steve’s humming into his mouth. Steve doesn’t taste like anything special, just like Steve. Like hot, wet, mouth. Like anger and nipping teeth.

They pull apart but stay close enough to kiss again, should they want to. Bucky thrusts into Steve as he watches his lips.

“Oh, God! Bucky!” Steve yelps. He goes fucking boneless on top of Bucky. Barely concealing a grin, Bucky takes Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth as he withdraws slowly from Steve. He bites down hard enough just to cause pain as he fucks up and into the same spot again, the tip of his cock hitting something soft inside of Steve.

Steve gasps and then his lips close around Bucky’s. He’s trying to grind down as best he can but doesn’t have the leverage. Bucky responds by tugging at his lip and entering the heat again. Slowly. As torturous revenge. He stops short of where he knows Steve needs it and releases Steve’s lip from his own. Steve shifts his weight backwards, steely eyes peering down at Bucky.

“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t fuck me like you mean it right goddamn now, I’m goin’ down the bar and I’ll find myself a man who will.”

Instantly, an unwelcome image of some stranger doing this with Steve flashes in Bucky’s mind. Some fucking nobody pulling noises from his Steve and making him blush. Some random man making Steve Rogers come. It makes Bucky see red. He frowns at Steve while he catches his breath below him.

He tries to search Steve’s eyes for some hint of dishonesty. Bucky can’t tell if he means what he’s saying. He doesn’t make any move to get off of Bucky, though. He wants this just like Bucky does.

“No, you won’t,” Bucky shrugs.

Steve’s jaw locks and he tilts his head. “I won’t?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, okay.”

Then Steve is lifting off of his cock and peeling himself from the bed. Bucky gapes as his fingers chase to grab onto Steve as he pulls away. “C’mon, Steve! Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now?!”

“I already told you, I ain’t gonna beg for it.”

Bucky springs off the bed now, too. For fuck’s sake, Steve is really, truly, looking for his scattered clothes on the ground. He’s really going to just leave. Bucky’s fuming.

“Steve!” He yells. Steve ignores him and bends down to pick up his pants. Bucky rips them from his grasp and throws them on top of Steve’s bed across the room. Bucky’s working on autopilot, doing things without thinking.

He yanks a fistfull of Steve’s hair back so that he has to look up at Bucky while backing him into the wall. He doesn’t care if it’s too rough, his patience and every bit of tolerance has officially run out. It doesn’t matter if Steve gets off on teasing him, he’s angry, angrier than Steve Rogers and if the look on Steve’s face is anything to go by, then he can tell it, too.

Bucky smashes their mouths together, knocking Steve’s head against the wall without apology. His mouth hurts, his body hurts but he doesn’t care anymore. He grinds his cock into Steve’s stomach and wraps his hands around Steve’s wrists, pinning them to the side of Steve’s head. When Bucky pulls back to look at Steve, he’s surprised to see him grinning where he has him cornered. His lips are all red and bitten, eyes wild.

“That’s more like it,” Steve mutters through a smirk and quick flick of an eyebrow. Bucky’s had it. This manipulation is fucking over.

Using this newfound anger, he releases Steve’s wrists and grips his waist. Steve weighs next to nothing and it takes almost no effort from Bucky to lift him up and literally throw him back onto the bed. He lands with a sputter and Bucky dives after him.

Steve is still grinning from ear to ear and looking at him with huge, hungry eyes. He actually is laughing softly as he crawls forward to meet Bucky for a ferocious kiss, bodies colliding and toppling over. Fucking, of course Steve gets off on rough play. I temporarily breaks Bucky’s mood and he chuckles too, into Steve’s smiling kiss. Unbelievable, the both of them.

Bucky wrestles Steve’s wrists back into his grip where he can pin them to the bed and he wiggles his way between Steve’s legs. Steve only pretends to give him trouble doing so. Bucky’s unrelenting in delivering kisses to Steve’s face, his neck, the top of his chest. He eventually has to let go of one wrist in order to align himself to enter Steve; he gives himself a few quick pumps before slamming inside him.

He pushes harder than he has, fucking deeper. And he’s glad to find that Steve has kept his wrist up by his head when he resumes grasp of it. He pushes the skinny wrists down into the mattress as he fucks him. Harder, faster. His cock filling up Steve’s hole and pulling a mangled groan from him. Bucky angles his hips a little differently and pushes deeper. Steve wants to get fucked? Really, truly, fucked? Well, okay then.

Bucky growls, hips snapping up sharply. Steve is arching beneath him, legs tightly wound around his waist and heels pulling him further inside. His length slides in and out, in and out, feeling like he somehow fits deeper with each thrust. Steve whimpers and fights Bucky grasp on his wrists as he writhes.

Bucky fucks him. He sucks on his neck, keeps his hands pinned down, kisses up his throat, licks at the bruises already starting there. Bucky fucks him. He bites at where Steve’s shoulder meets his neck, he draws blood, he licks it as Steve moans. Bucky fucks him. He shoves his tongue in Steve’s mouth, licks at his teeth, his tongue, his lips, the spit making everything hotter, wetter, slicker. Their chests rise and fall together, skin pressing against skin. Bucky fucks him, the head of his cock aching and pressing against Steve’s prostate with each and every thrust.

Steve has stopped trying to move. His eyes are fluttering, his mouth open. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve croaks and then gasps. “Don’t stop!”

Bucky doesn’t. His lungs are on fire and he’s sure Steve’s must be, too. He slams his cock deep inside Steve and feels how every inch of him is surrounded by Steve’s walls. The muscles in his belly are tightening and he can feel his release building. He chases it, pounding into Steve over and over and over. Abusing his sweet spot and enjoying watching Steve come unraveled. He looks so fucking beautiful, like he was made to be here, beneath Bucky, being fucked by Bucky.

Steve is wincing in overstimulation, squirming as he still works to pump his hips up in tandem with Bucky’s. “Yes! Yes, fuck, Bucky! I’m close.” He grunts. Bucky’s glad to hear it, he can’t last much longer. He’s gazing down, their noses almost touching at the sight below him. He’s hit with a sudden squeezing in his chest, his heart pounding loud in his ears. Bucky is abruptly blown away by how much he absolutely loves this stubborn jackass. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about this, he should be thinking about how hot his cock is, how tightly Steve is pulsing around him, how good it feels to actually fuck someone. And yes, the sensation of fucking into another body is amazing, but it’s the love he has for his best friend that pushes Bucky over the edge.

His cock throbs and pulsates. Bucky groans, dipping his head to mouth at Steve’s neck as he comes. He feels like he might blackout and the hot, milky fluid spills from him, deep inside Steve’s tight hole. Steve bucks against him desperately. Bucky tries to ride out his orgasm by tucking his arms under Steve’s body to rut deeper inside him. Hips circling, mouth drooling onto Steve’s neck.

Steve whimpers as he feels the hot come emptying inside him and he clamps down even harder around Bucky. “Buck!” Steve gulps his name like a sacred syllable and starts to convulse. Bucky’s head snaps up to watch Steve’s face as he begins to come, his own climax still sending shocks of electricity through this body. Steve’s come coats his stomach and his hole twitches around Bucky’s still pumping length.

They meet hooded gazes, faces a millimeter away. Steve’s newly released hands tangle in Bucky’s hair and he wiggles desperately on Bucky’s cock. They lock eyes and hold their breath as they finish together, eventually slowing to a stop.

Neither of them have blinked. And Steve slots their mouths together in an open mouthed kiss. This one is slow and languid, their eyes still open. It only lasts a few seconds because they can’t fucking breathe after that.

Steve holds Bucky’s flaming cheeks in his hands. “That sure was somethin’, wasn’t it, James Buck?” he grins.