Steve reaches behind Bucky to fumble for the front door knob. Bucky seizes the opportunity to back himself up to the door and pull Steve flush to his chest. One hand behind his head, the other roaming down his back. Bucky’s kissing along his jaw, breathing heavy. Steve stumbles in his grip and his body weight pins Bucky to the door.
Bucky gasps a smile and one eyebrow cocks up. A low hum as he lets his tongue trail hot and wet from the hollow of Steve’s throat, curving around to the edge of his jaw. Steve is caught between laughing at their clumsiness and letting his head fall back, exposing his throat, and giving Bucky all the skin he wants.
He finally finds the knob, twists it, and pushes in. They fall backward, stumbling into Sam’s house. Bucky’s laughing, tripping, holding tight to Steve’s shirt collar, but they haven’t fallen. Even as a tangled mess, their balance is still better than it should be. Steve’s trying to steady him, hands on Bucky’s back, when he sees something whoosh toward the stairs.
His head snaps up just in time to see Sam’s socked feet sprinting up to the second floor as he calls down, louder than necessary, “Goodnight!”
Steve means to reply, apologize, thank him, something, anything, but Bucky’s got three fingertips on his jaw and he’s tilting Steve’s chin down to kiss him deeper, tongue reaching over his own, and Steve just groans, eyebrows knitting up. Too lost in the man in his arms to remember the world around them.
Happiness is just one swell in the ocean in your chest. He’s staying. Relief so deep you forget to breathe. He wants you. Lust so thick you forget every part of your body he’s not touching. He’s ready. Pride and hope and dedication. Anticipation and gratefulness and hunger and infatuation and optimism and euphoria. Too many to count them all when your mind is so fuzzy.
Steve walks him over to the couch, Bucky’s hands on his ribs, exploring the muscles under his arms through his shirt. Steve sits and Bucky follows him down. Immediately crawling over him, straddling his lap. He sits back, hips on Steve’s thighs, and moves both hands to the hem of Steve’s shirt. Steve’s feeling loose, so far undone. He watches Bucky watch him as his hands slip under Steve’s shirt and his fingertips meet skin. Steve’s mouth falls slightly open and Bucky grins. Dark and pleased and roguish. He’ll take you tonight if you let him. He leans forward as his hands search higher, drifting over Steve’s stomach, up his chest. He’ll give you rapture if you want it now.
Bucky kisses his temple and noses Steve’s head to the side with his own. He kisses lightly across the top of Steve’s ear and lets his lips drift down the sensitive outside curve. Bucky flicks his tongue into the hollow just behind his earlobe and Steve gasps. Bucky’s hands brace against the back of the couch and he grinds his hips forward, chasing the pressure of Steve’s cock against his own. They both shudder when he finds it. Let him take you, let him take you.
Bucky opens his mouth and draws the lobe between his teeth. We should slow down. He bites down and tugs enough to make Steve groan. Then releases him, settles his lips close, and with the tip of his tongue begins to explore. We have all the time in the world. Feeling along each ridge and crease. And getting him back is enough for one night. He’s circling, tongue pressing harder, wetter as he traces the curves toward the center. Stop him now, before he’s got his tongue deep in your ear and you forget how to speak.
“Buck—” Steve gasps. Bucky hums low and hungry in his ear and grinds his hips again. “Ah—” Steve’s mind blanks and he tries to stay afloat in the waves of pleasure, “Bucky—” This time he manages to get his hand on Bucky’s chest and push him back a bit.
Bucky sits back and—fuck, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. He looks incredible. Lips swollen, mouth parted, cheeks flushed, eyes lidded with pupils blown. His hair is tangled from your fingers and he’s smiling at whatever shows on your face. Steve stares at him for so long that Bucky starts to lean in again for another kiss.
“Buck—” Steve swallows, catches him when his lips are just above his own, “I want to take things slow.” He’s expecting a laugh, an incredulous huff, or at least a confused pause.
But Bucky just says, “Okay,” soft words over his lips, “Whatever you want.”
“Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. Is kissing okay?” Bucky kisses the corner of his lips and just grazes the crease with the tip of his tongue.
“Yeah,” Steve’s voice breathless, “Kissing’s okay,”
“Good,” Bucky kisses the side of his nose. The top of his eyelid. The bottom of his chin. Then rests their foreheads together and stills.
“Buck—you feel so good,” Steve whispers.
“So do you,” Bucky whispers back with a smile.
They soak in the silence for a minute. Just warm and close and one. Then Bucky rolls to his side, trailing his fingers over Steve’s shoulders. Steve curls to face him on the couch, “Should we bring your stuff back in?”
Bucky shakes his head, “No,” then his lips quirk and he adds, “I’ll just stay in your room tonight.”
Steve smiles wider, “Yeah, maybe if you go take a cold shower first.”
Bucky’s eyes flicker and he chuckles. His head settles deeper against the couch cushion and Steve is swept up in an overwhelming desire to kiss him. So he does. Because now you can. Harder and hungrier than he means to—weightless possibility—then pulls away and stands before they can get tangled up again.
Two steps from the couch he realizes they never shut the front door. He walks over to close it and with his hand on the door, looks at Bucky’s truck out front. He pauses and calls back into the house, “You were going to take your plants?” He walks back toward the couch, “Not even one plant left in the kitchen for me to remember you by?” Steve’s wearing a teasing smile but Bucky’s face is serious. Like he’s just remembered how they got here. How they’d jumped and flailed wild in the air for a terrifying moment before finding each others’ arms. How dark the world was just an hour ago.
Steve reaches for him, “Hey,” he smiles warmly, you’re here now Buck, I’ve got you, “let’s go to bed.” Bucky takes his hand and stands. He follows Steve up the stairs, everything feeling a bit like a dream, and in the upstairs hall he touches Steve’s shoulder. Steve turns and Bucky gently pins him. Both hands on the wall, on either side of his head.
“I love you too,” his eyes are dark and quiet, “I want you to know. I think I fell in love with you the first time we met at the diner. This is me now, no matter what I was before, and I want to do this right,” Bucky’s gaze is sharp with conviction, “I don’t know how I felt before the war. But if that guy was anything like me, then he loved you too.
“I know,” Steve caresses the side his face with his palm and Bucky turns his head to kiss it.
Bucky pushes back and lets Steve take his hand. He leads them toward his bedroom. Now you never have to be apart. Spend every second together and need no excuses. Hold him and smile. Now you know the taste of his lips and there’s no going back. His hand is warm and firm in yours and nothing has ever felt as right as this.