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Bucky is quite certain that there is no place on Earth as comfortable as Steve’s bed. It’s big and luxurious and soft and plush and Bucky can spread out in it like he tends to do when he naps. It hugs him all over and keeps him warm and cozy and he could seriously spend days upon days in this bed, hours upon hours of deep slumber. Bucky sleeps through the night in this bed, which is a huge feat, and Bucky hates the nights that he has to spend in his own bed, in his own apartment.

Bucky also loves Steve’s bed because it’s the one place Steve can spread Bucky out and take him apart. He can be spread out on his back, legs embarrassingly wide, Steve fucking into him, harshly whispering his praise into Bucky’s mouth and cheek. He can be on all fours, thighs pushed together like Steve likes, spine deeply curved, biting into the sheets as Steve fucks him nice and slow. He can be the one to spread Steve out, to lay him on his back and to ride him, moving on top of powerful thighs, feeling Steve so deep. The bed is so big and soft that Steve can push Bucky around, move him how he likes, rough or sweet, rolling him or turning him or flipping him. Bucky loves this bed.

Bucky loves sleeping in this bed and fucking in this bed, loves spending all moments with Steve in this bed. Tonight, he found himself on his back with his wrists tied to Steve’s headboard above him, back arched, bearing down on Steve’s thick cock, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat. His thighs had been pushed open and kept there by Steve’s strong grip, his beard surely rubbing Bucky’s neck and cheek raw, and he fucked Bucky hard and deep and long. He dragged the experience out, telling Bucky he could never get enough of his sweet body, whispering and growling his praise into Bucky’s lips and cheeks and neck, stilling his hips every time Bucky’s breaths turned into ragged gasps and his thighs tightened around Steve’s waist.

Tonight found himself crying in complete sexual frustration, aching all over in the need to come, to just burst, all on Steve’s cock alone. He begged, high and needy, fingers gripping and pulling at the cloth around his wrists, hips rolling in an attempt to make a stagnant Steve let him come. Steve had shushed him, cooed against his jawline and sternum, head moving down to lick and suck and assault his nipples, left and then right and then left again, “Hush, sugar, don’t beg—Good boys don’t beg. You’re my good boy right, Buck? My sweet thing?”. Bucky had nodded frantically, unable to stop the whimpers and hiccups that dropped from his lips, and Steve purred. “Then take it, honey—just take it. Take what I fuckin’ give you, baby.”

And Bucky had. Bucky cried and whined and cried some more, all while Steve fucked into him, in and out and in again. Bucky began to grow delirious, Steve’s thrusts so goddamn deep, cock so fuckin’ big, his touches and words sweet on his skin, in his ear, and when he was allowed to finally come, he sobbed and thanked Steve and shook in his arms, orgasm ripping through his body until his teeth ached.

It had been exhausting and sating and nothing short of mind-blowing. Bucky continued to tremble through Steve cleaning him up and being wrapped up in a wall of muscle and blanket and his mind and body and soul felt at ease, so calm. He easily drifted to sleep, Steve’s bed proving, yet again, to be the comfiest place in the world.

Steve’s bed was also where he dreamt the most. On his way to deep sleep he would slip into that dreamland, most times either forgetting them within minutes of waking up or remembering them because of their unrealistic and ludacris plotline. Tonight though, this dream feels exceptionally real and exceptionally hot. Sometimes Bucky wants Steve to be rougher with him, to smack him around a little, treat him like an object and not a person. That’s exactly what Dream Steve is doing. He’s got Bucky’s face shoved into the wall, his cheek digging into what seems to be the back of his front door, and Steve’s big body is pressed up against his backside. He can feel Steve’s cock dig into his lower back and he moans. Steve whispers roughly into Bucky’s ear, “Just a little slut for Daddy, aren’t you, sugar?” and Bucky nods his head, whimpering out a small, “Yes, Daddy. Just for you, Daddy.”

Dream Steve chuckles meanly into the back of Bucky’s neck, his hand coming around to grip the column of Bucky’s neck in his wide palm. “Say it, Bucky. Tell me you’re Daddy’s little slut.” Steve chides, grip tightening around his throat minutely and Bucky’s body seems to heat up in waves. Fuck, he loves Steve, loves him so much, but sometimes Bucky needs him to be mean, needs him to indulge Bucky and Steve is always there to do whatever Bucky needs. God, he loves Steve.

He feels himself drift from his dream but he’s frantic because he hasn’t answered Steve. He needs to answer Steve.

Nggh, M’Daddy’s little slut, oh f-fuck, Steve, Steve please…

He feels himself drift more into consciousness, but he can still feel Steve’s warm and aggressive body pushing against his back, so he pushes back onto it, rolls his hips. Can’t lose Steve, Bucky needs to be good for Steve, needs to make Steve happy, wants Steve to be rough with him and—

Mmm, fuck, Bucky. Baby…

Bucky nods his head rapidly, arching his spine and rolling his hips back into Steve’s warm torso, moaning at the feel of such a big hard body behind him, feeling so deliriously turned on his heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of his chest. He moans when he feels Steve’s soft lips run up his neck to his ear, dropping kisses behind it. “Bucky. Bucky, what are you doin’, baby?” Dream Steve asks and Bucky exhales a huff of a laugh, eyes fluttering closed, and—

“Bucky, honey. Can’t get enough even when you’re sleepin’, huh?” Steve’s low voice cuts through the haze and it’s so deep and warm and it rumbles up through his chest and directly into Bucky’s ear, making him gasp loudly. If he thought the things he were feeling in his dream were intense and heightened, it was nothing compared to what it feels like in reality, awake and conscious. His body is on fire, lit from the inside out. His body and limbs ache in all kinds of fashion, his core throbs as does his cock, and he feels so exposed, so open.

Steve just holds him, arm beneath his neck, hand on his chest, other hand gripping his hip, and he sleepily coos and hums into Bucky’s ear, calming him down. It takes Bucky a solid thirty seconds to realize what’s happening and that he’s in Steve’s bed, wrapped up in Steve’s arms. His face burns in embarrassment from just the idea of what’s happening in reality and with a fuzzy brain his next few breaths could be equated to sobs.

“It’s alright, sugar. Havin’ a little wet dream? I know, I know. Look at you,” Steve says deeply and the hand on his hip moves to palm and squeeze and Bucky’s erection. A shout of a whine bursts from Bucky’s lips, squirming, toes curling as his hands scramble to find a grip on the sheets or on Steve’s arms. Steve’s hand is so large, so strong, and Bucky’s eyes roll back into his skull at the fuzzy feeling of Steve jacking him slowly and deeply, groaning low, his lip curling. To be indulged so quickly, while basically still asleep, is almost too much, so deliriously good that Bucky’s mind can’t catch up with his body. He can feel the weight of Steve’s cock rolling into the curve and crack of his ass, the ache from mere hours before burning low in his body.

“Steve, Steve—please, Daddy,” he croaks, writhing in Steve’s arms, arching his neck, in hopes that the older man will lick and suck and kiss—anything—at the sensitive skin there. Steve huffs out a breath of an amused laugh, running his lips up the column of his neck, giving him exactly what he wants, planting wet kisses at the hinge of his jaw. Of course; Steve is perfect.

Steve’s hand continues to pump and he whispers into his cheek, “Bucky, what am I gonna do with you, huh?”, squeezing the base of his cock hard, almost painfully so, and Bucky mournfully wails between clenched teeth. God, what a question. Steve makes him want anything and everything all the time, such a complete difference compared to how he was when he entered this relationship. Before Steve, he didn’t have sex often, wasn’t aware of the plethora of feelings, toys, scenarios, and positions one could engage in. Now though? Well, he was affectionately referred to as a slut for a reason.

The haze of sleep is wearing off, but the dull confusion and slumber is still present, making thinking and talking extremely difficult. He manages to slur out a, “Just wan’you, wan’Daddyyy,” and Steve gives his cock one good squeeze at the root, purring into his skin, before he’s rolling both bodies over, pinning Bucky to the bed beneath him, arm still tight around his neck, grip on his hip. The moan he lets out is damn near embarrassing, springing from his chest and into the sheets beneath him. Fuck, nothing can compare to feeling completely surrounded by the sheer man that is Steve Rogers. It’s overwhelming in the absolute best way possible, heady and intoxicating, heavy and sweet, the blonde knowing exactly how much weight that Bucky loves to feel. He makes a noise, an appreciative whine, and Steve hums out a mocking noise in response, rolling his capable hips into Bucky’s backside. The movement makes Bucky moan, his erection pushing into the bed and the sheets, throbbing, ready to burst. He’s gonna blow his load the second Steve is balls-deep inside of him; it won’t even be a minute, there’s no way.

Oh, honey. Look at you humpin’ the bed, rubbin’ that pretty little cock into the sheets. So greedy. I just fucked this cunt silly a few hours ago; you really want more? Already?” Steve’s voice is so low, so close, and shame rockets up Bucky’s spine, his face heating up, and all he can do is make a pitiful noise. He knows what Steve is saying is correct, thinking it himself, but hearing Steve say it out loud in such a tone, being surrounded by Steve’s big frame, is devastating.

“Was earlier not good enough for you? Didn’t I make you come twice?” Steve asks and Bucky’s breath hitches with a small sob. “Answer me, baby.”

Nonono, it was so g-good, Daddy. You’re so good to m-me, too good. Just want you a-all the time,” Bucky cries, registering Steve’s soft lips running up the side of his face, to his temple. Steve’s cock is so goddamn hard, just resting and twitching against Bucky’s ass, and Bucky’s teeth ache as another wave of arousal rushes over him.

“Mmm, so greedy, Buck. Just a greedy little boy with a greedy little cunt,” Steve taunts in such a pointed matter that Bucky feels tears spill over in such a frantic and sudden way that leaves him gasping. Steve always knows what to say that hits him right in the chest, leaves him aching even moreso than just physically. Bucky adores it.

He can feel Steve reaching around in the bed, hand sweeping through the sheets, trying not to move an inch away from Bucky’s body, shushing him, reassuring him, “I’ll make it all better, sugar,” and he knows Steve will hold true to his word. He feels like he’s wading through syrup, brain fuzzy and body heavy, and he barely registers the familiar click of the bottle of lubricant. He sniffles and whines and does what he can to spread his thighs under Steve, tilting his ass up.

“Where does it ache, honey?” Steve murmurs and then slick fingers are pushing against his sensitive hole and—oh fuck yes. “Is it achy here? Huh, Buck? This where you need Daddy to make it all better?” The noise that leaves Bucky’s mouth sounds like it has been punched directly out of his chest, akin to a wail, and he nods his head hurriedly.

“Please, Daddy, please please oh god, pleasepleaseplease—”

“Hush, baby. I’ve got you, shh,” Steve soothes, pulling the arm that Bucky had quite honestly forgotten was around his neck down so his wide hand can wrap around his throat instead. The movement makes it easier for the younger man to tilt his body back into Steve’s body, Steve’s hand. Bucky’s molasses-filled brain manages to spin as he feels two of Steve’s fingers slowly breach his body. He gasps. It’s a lot to take at first but it feels so good and his body is still pliant and stretched from having Steve in him a few hours before. They both share a low groan, Steve’s falling into the skin of Bucky’s neck, and he powers through slowly, inching his fingers in delicately.

Bucky can’t catch his breath. Sex is normally and naturally intense for the two of them but to be engaging in intercourse so quickly after the kind of sex they had that night is another level. Add to that being yanked from sleep and thrown right into this physicality with Steve Rogers and you have the trembling mess that is Bucky Barnes.

Steve’s kissing him and making such approving noises and saying such sweet things and his two fingers are already brushing across his sensitive prostate and Bucky might come. He must say it out loud.

“Oh, so sensitive aren’t you, Buck? Almost comin’ on two of my fingers after you came two times tonight? Huh? Can’t ever give you enough, little boy.” Steve’s soft-spoken words sound taunting, rough, but his fingers move like silk, are so sweet to his body and Bucky cries, can’t even say anything in response because Steve is right—Bucky can never get enough of Steve. He’ll take whatever Steve wants to give him, whenever he wants to give it to him, and he’ll say thank you when it’s over.

Bucky doesn’t need much preparation, already passed the tiny stage of discomfort, and he soon makes the delayed connection that pushing his hips into the bed while Steve fingers him feels so damn good. He doesn’t have a chance to relish it for long though, feeling the blunt head of Steve’s fat cock push at his rim, at his opening, a big hand squeezing at his throat. His eyes roll back into his head as he fails to stop the long and low moan he lets out, knowing Steve can feel the vibrations under his palm. His mouth breaks out into a grin for a few seconds when he hears Steve’s breath stutter and a small sigh of a groan. He’s being so good for Steve.

Steve’s cock feels like it’s never-ending, so thick and hot and heavy in Bucky’s hole, pushing and making its way inside of him. “Oh fuck, honey. Yeah, lemme in, let Daddy in. So fuckin’ perfect, Buck. So fuckin’ sweet,” Steve grinds out adding in a soft, “Always so goddamn tight for me,” as he bottoms out, nudging and pushing and humping into Bucky’s lax body. Bucky feels a few more tears spill over, his frantic inhales and exhales not doing much to help him get his metaphorical feet underneath him, and even though his eyes are open everything is blurry and faded.

Bucky rolls his hips and moves his once-pinned arms, stretching them above him, wrapping his fingers around the slats in the headboard. Prepped or not, Bucky always needs a moment to himself to appreciate the feeling of Steve’s dick inside of him, clenching and bearing down around that perfectly thick cock, groaning deeply, hips rolling slightly as he fucks himself back onto Steve.

Steve moves then, adjusting to the movements of the man beneath him, chasing the squeeze and pull of Bucky’s sweet little ass. He settles between Bucky’s spread thighs, settling to drape his larger body over the brunette’s smaller frame, lips at his ear to better taunt and tease Bucky. Bucky’s already coming apart underneath him and he hasn’t even truly begun to fuck into him. “So easy, Buck,” he whispers affectionately, running his nose up the side of his face, squeezing his fingers again, and Bucky whimpers, his face burning.

Seemingly unable to wait any longer (thank fuck), Steve begins to pull his hips back softly, just rocking into Bucky, movements simply in the hips only, and Bucky damn near shouts. It’s such a small movement but it feels so powerful, so vulnerable, so erotic. Steve is literally humping Bucky, holding his throat taught in his palm, his cock digging into his prostate on every thrust back in, holding his hips in place before pulling out slowly.

Steeeeve. Oh god, Steve. Steve,” Bucky is hysterical, teeth chattering, jaw attempting to clench, eyelids fluttering.

“Yeah, baby? That greedy cunt gettin’ what it needs?” Steve asks hot in his ear, timing his question with a deep thrust and Bucky cries. “Oh, Jesus fuck, S-Steve. Feels…feels so g-good in my little c-cunt, so fuckin’ good. Love you, love you.” Steve moans out a small hum and continues his slow movements, responding to Bucky’s declaration with a, “love you too, sugar”, and a sweet kiss on the cheek.

Bucky’s in heaven He knows he most definitely is when Steve increases the pace of his movements, his body, his hips. Steve is so powerful, so strong, so loving, and he always gives Bucky what he wants even if he wasn’t even aware it was something he wanted in the first place. He’s an incredible lover, so doting and observant, wanting to always please Bucky first, gets off on him absolutely falling apart in his arms. And that’s exactly what Bucky is about to do, especially if he keeps up this suddenly brutal pace. It isn’t even how fast Steve is moving because he is moving slowly, deeply, just feeling. It’s more of how pointed and purposeful his movements are.

Bucky grips the bed railing, holding on dearly, taking Steve’s thrusts beautifully, arching into them. Every breath Bucky takes is a gasp and every exhale is a grunt or moan and he can’t help it; everything feels so good. How can sex feel this good right after they just got done having sex?

God, Bucky. You make me feel so fuckin’ good, baby. So good for Daddy,” Steve says, moaning low into the skin of the back of Bucky’s neck, the praise making his gut clench and his balls draw up. His body bounces in the mattress and Steve continues to move and move and thrust, his noises bouncing with them, and he knows he sounds wrecked. Hell—he feels wrecked. But he doesn’t care in the slightest, not when Steve keeps fucking his thick cock into him, skin smacking skin, kisses and licks on his neck, his own cock being shoved and bounced into the mattress beneath him.

Bucky feels the familiar first signs of a coil in his gut, in the base of his spine. He gets frantic.

“Daddy! Oh shit, you’re gonna make me come, gonna make me come,” Bucky warns, high and whiny, feeling like a hot mess, blood rushing to his ears, cheek pressed against the sheets. Steve groans, full of approval, and leans forward, hands coming to grasp his own already white-knuckled around the slats. Fuck, this causes Steve’s entire fucking body to push down into Bucky’s, arms and torsos and thighs touching, lips pressed against the shell of Bucky’s ear. “Fuck, oh fuck, oh god, Steve. Wanna come, please, wanna come,” Bucky babbles, just slurring together words that come out as sobs at this point, eyes rolling back into his head, completely overwhelmed.

The new physicality and connection alter Steve’s angle and make Bucky feel like he is bursting at the seams with cock, stuffed fully, seemingly able to feel the fucking veins on Steve’s dick.

“Oh, sugar, yeah. I want you to come, wanna feel it. Love makin’ you come, so pretty, Buck. You gonna give it to Daddy? Yeah?” Bucky feels like he’s racing to plummet off the edge of a cliff, just chasing the pleasure Steve is bringing him, his gut twists, he cries out, “Yes, please, please, oh fuck, fuck yes, Daddy, wanna b-be so good for you!” Steve chooses to murmur his praise, thrusts increasing in pace slightly, still hard and deep, “But baby you are so good for me, so fuckin’ good. Be a good boy and come all over my fat cock, Bucky. Come on—give it to me.”

Bucky cries. Steve’s grip is the one thing holding his hands up, his face turned into the sheets now, teeth bearing down on the material beneath him. His chest heaves, he’s so close, gasping between his clenched teeth, and Steve damn near growls.

He frantically adjusts his thighs, moving his legs to rest on the outside of Bucky’s lithe ones, moving him into position to sit atop the panting brunette and fuck into him from atop and—shit.

“I’m—oh fuck!” Bucky shouts, verging on screaming. Steve moans wantonly, guttural.  

“Yeah, there is it. Give it to me, baby. Gimme what I want.”

Bucky breaks. It’s like a damn in his chest, moving outwards to the rest of his body. His vision whites out, his ears ring, and he feels his cock pulse and pulse into the bed and his own stomach. He registers himself being unable to breathe but he can’t be bothered with oxygen when Steve continues to rail into him, fucking him through this incredible orgasm, prolonging it. He clenches around Steve’s perfect cock, bearing down on it, relishing in the euphoria of being completely and utterly filled. His toes curl and he lets out a long moan, Steve moving their pair of arms, scooting them down the bed to rest under Bucky’s chest, movements rushed and animalistic. He doesn’t realize that he’s bucking and humping and moving almost violently in Steve’s iron grip, orgasm literally being ripped from his body.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky. So perfect, so goddamn perfect comin’ for me like that. Gonna fill this sweet little cunt up again. My come is gonna leak outta you, s’gonna mix with the come from earlier, such a dirty little hole, baby. Fuck, so sloppy—”

Bucky’s hoarse, throat scratchy, but he moans and cries and encourages Steve, body bouncing with  the power of his thrusts, unable to think of anything else in the world he wants more than what Steve describes. He wants his ass filled with Steve’s come. He wants to feel it leak out of his hole, down his balls. He wants to give that to Steve.

For the third time that night Bucky doesn’t process that he’s talking out loud and Steve lets out a rumble and then a shocked punched-out noise. Steve is always silent as he crests over that wave and into his orgasm but damn is he noisy once he crosses that. Bucky adores him. His open mouth, spilling low noises, moves from the side of Bucky’s head down to his shoulder, pulling Bucky into his body as he clenches down onto Steve’s cock for all he’s worth. He rolls into Bucky, moving slow, fucking into him deep, through his orgasm and Bucky whimpers. He was good.

Fuck, so good, baby. So good.”

From there Bucky immediately feels himself drift into dreamland once more. He registers Steve’s sweet kisses and words, pulling out of him and moving, Bucky whining. He feels a wet washcloth clean him up, first his face and neck, then his stomach. Bucky whines when Steve goes to clean up his backside, hands pushing uselessly, and Steve clicks his tongue. “Such a dirty boy, Buck,” he hears Steve whisper and he nods. He is for Steve.

Bucky feels the sheets and comforter cover his body and quickly to follow is Steve’s muscly arms, his thick chest. Within seconds he’s back sleeping in the comfiest bed there every was.