It’s too hot out to be alive, is what it is, and even though they’ve got the air cranked up and the windows shut and the blinds drawn, Bucky still thinks he’s going to lose his God damn mind trying not to burst into flame here. It’s what they get for moving back to New York with their hearts in their eyes, somehow having completely forgotten about the still heat of the summer.
“Don’t we have a fan somewhere?”
“But I think it’s melting,” Bucky says morosely, holding up his left arm. Steve, on the floor, cracks an eye open judgmentally and then shuts it again. Bucky drops his arm and figures that maybe he shouldn’t complain, because all things considered, life is fine today — Steve likes this weather, and in all honesty Bucky would rather burn a hundred times over than freeze to death once. And then, because Stevie’s right there, Bucky looks down at him from his place up on the couch. His baby’s all splayed out on his back, his eyes closed, a little damp and pink around the edges, sweet-looking; overheated. It’s too hot for too many clothes and Steve’s wearing a tank and those tiny girl’s shorts Bucky likes so much — not girl’s shorts, Steve has corrected, boxer briefs, it’s what fellas wear — but hell, in Bucky’s opinion they’re eensy and tight enough to be panties, and he’ll call them what he likes.
And then Bucky gets distracted by the stretch Steve makes, the strong big muscles in his thighs bunching up and releasing. Lazily he gives a little yawn that does stupid things to Bucky’s chest.
“I’m gonna make some lemonade,” Steve decides, but doesn’t move.
“Later,” Bucky advises, and then: “Hey, get up here.”
Steve chuckles. “I’m not moving. Don’t you know that heat rises, Barnes? What, you never take a science class?”
“You get down here,” Steve says.
“You sayin’ I’m dumb?” Bucky asks, kicking a foot out. Steve bats it away.
“Dumber than the day is long,” Steve agrees, grinning hugely, and Bucky tucks and rolls lightning-fast off the couch. Steve makes a grab for Bucky’s wrists but Bucky rolls them again, dangerously close to the TV. The corner of Bucky’s brain that hasn’t shut up since he shipped out in 1943 tells him that tactically it’s a shit move, but he ignores that in favor of tangling his legs with Steve’s. Their damp skin touches almost everywhere and Steve’s shirt rides up. He’s laughing to himself, loving it, his eyes bright when he lets Bucky trap his wrists and pin them by his head. Bucky thinks about tickling him, and biting him, and nosing at the tender skin inside his thighs.
There’s a hot flush on Steve’s cheeks, and it’s climbing steadily on down his neck. His eyes are wicked when he says, “What, you want some?”
“Hell yes, I want some,” Bucky murmurs. He tilts his head down, some hair escaping from where he’s got it tied back, and gets real close to Steve’s pretty little lips, enjoying that they’ve got all the time in the world today, and that he can do or not do whatever he likes. So with this in mind he shifts, pinning both Steve’s wrists in his metal hand. Steve chuckles at him when Bucky rubs the palm of his right hand between them over the exposed strip of Steve’s belly, wanting to feel the damp heat of the skin there.
Bucky lets up a little to look down at the picture underneath him, catching his thumb in Steve’s belly button. “God bless the USA,” he mumbles, and Steve makes an undignified snorting sound, shaking his head at him.
“Damn, baby, I fucking love these,” Bucky continues needlessly, snapping the band of Steve’s underwear. Steve’s skin is already warm and pink from the still heat in the apartment, but he turns a little darker when he feels Bucky looking down at him. They’re tight enough Bucky can see the exact outline of Steve’s dick as he chubs up. Bucky bets that if Steve got hard all the way his cock would peek out the top of the waistband, just the sweet red tip of it, and isn’t that a thought.
Bucky lets Steve’s wrists go and slides down his body, shoving up his tank. He sinks his teeth in gently just under Steve’s belly button where the skin is thin and veined and especially pale, sucking a little. Steve makes a little huffing sound and tilts his hips invitingly. But because Bucky’s a bastard, and because Steve’s sweat tastes good and salty and honest he keeps at it, pulling the blood up to the surface for a few seconds at a time, leaving behind tiny red patches that fade way too quickly for his taste.
“Hey,” Bucky chuckles. Sure enough, the head of Steve’s dick is just barely visible over his waistband. “Would you look at that.”
Steve raises an eyebrow to where Bucky’s cock is making a break from his own boxers, which Bucky categorically ignores. Instead he hooks his thumbs in Steve’s tiny shorts and starts tugging them off. “It’s a crying shame that I’ve got to get rid of these,” he sighs when they’re gone and all that’s left in front of him is miles of Steve’s body, still Irish pale even with the enhancements.
“Yeah,” agrees Steve, pushing up Bucky’s shirt. “You’re lookin’ real blue, Buck, I can tell.”
Bucky’s shirt hits the ground, forgotten.
“Get in here,” Steve says impatiently, pulling Bucky up by the scruff of his neck. And Bucky can’t believe he hasn’t kissed him properly yet; it’s gotta violate something in the Geneva Convention.
“Yeah,” breathes Bucky, between the presses of Steve’s hot wet mouth into his. “Oh, baby doll, yeah. You’re sweeter than sugar.”
Stevie lets out one of his long lusty sighs. Bucky pulls back to look at him, meeting that familiar hot blue stare, his pretty mouth parted and wet and plush. Bucky reaches up to trace it with his fingers and grins lazily when Steve does. And then he can’t take it anymore and, with his thumb resting on Steve’s lower lip, holding his mouth open and ready, kisses him to conquer.
It is for all intents and purposes too hot to be plastered together this way, but neither of them happen to give a damn. Steve gasps, the sweetest sound in this whole godforsaken world, when their hips press together. Bucky can feel Steve’s cock pressed up close along his through his boxers, and obligingly, because Steve’s panting and flushed and needing it bad, starts to rock nice and slow until Steve’s moaning out loud into Bucky’s mouth.
“That’s it, pretty baby, let me hear you,” Bucky mumbles, and Steve does, giving Bucky sweet little gasps and low groans while Bucky gets him off. To help Bucky ducks his head down and sucks just behind Steve’s ear, his damp flax hair dripping onto Bucky’s nose. Into his ear Bucky breathes, “Stevie, you’re so sweet — God damn, baby, I wanna touch you all over.”
Steve’s breath is hitching. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Bucky grabs Steve’s legs and hooks them around his waist, and then he scratches his teeth gently along the underside of Steve’s jaw, gripping hard at his thighs. He slides his hands up and up over all the yards of muscle and gets them under Steve’s shirt like he’s copping a feel with a girl. Bucky cups Steve’s pecs in two hands and brushes his thumbs over Steve’s nipples. He feels the second they start to go peaked and hard under his touch, erotic and thrilling, and Steve whimpers a little, his mouth falling open. Bucky can’t help himself and he kisses the pretty red moue of it, the exact same color as the head of his exposed dick.
“Let me fuck you, baby doll,” Bucky says. He grazes his teeth along the outer shell of Steve’s ear and rubs his nose into the smell of him. “C’mon, I’ll make you feel so good, Steve, I’ll make it last all afternoon until the sun goes down.”
Steve moans despite himself. “It’s too hot for that.”
“Liar,” Bucky says, grinning into Steve’s neck. He’s stopped rubbing their dicks together and Steve stubbornly twists his hips against him, trying to get the friction back. Low, Bucky continues: “What, you don’t think I know what this kind of weather does to you, Rogers? When it’s hot out you get all bothered. All you gotta do is ask and I’ll fuck you just how you want it. I’ll make you feel so good, just the way you know I can. Now that I’ve finally stripped you out of those little panties all I wanna do is make you come, baby doll. S’all I can think about, sweetheart…Jesus, don’t leave me hangin’. I just wanna see you make a mess. I gotta see it, gotta feel how hot you are inside. C’mon, Stevie, oh, baby, let me get you off.”
“Jesus Christ, Buck,” Steve hisses, clenching his fingers into Bucky’s hair.
Rapturous, Bucky starts kissing him, light and little, letting Steve chase it. “Mmm, baby, that a yes? You gonna let me treat you right?”
“Hell yes,” Steve says, breathing hard. “Buck, Jesus. Yeah.”
When Bucky pulls back there’s hectic splotches of color high on Steve’s cheeks, a deep blush heating up the skin of his abs and his belly. Bucky sits back on his heels, admiring in the view. Steve raises an eyebrow, all red in the face. Bucky finally tears himself away. He makes it from the bedroom and back in maybe two seconds flat, and shucks his boxers while he’s at it. He drops the bottle of slick on the floor next to them and lumbers back between Steve’s legs. He’s still got his tank on, rucked up under his armpits, and he’s spread out so pretty underneath Bucky he thinks he might have a heart attack.
“Get that off,” he says, and obediently Steve wiggles out of his shirt. It messes up his hair as he pulls it over his head, making him seem even more pleasantly disheveled and lazy. Bucky, helpless, cups Steve’s pecs again, rubbing his thumbs over his nipples. He dips his head down and scrapes his teeth gently over the hard point of one. Steve scrubs his hand over the back of Bucky’s hair, and Bucky can feel the breath in his chest hitching under his mouth. He squeezes Steve’s chest to feel the strong muscle and switches to the other side, this time with a different plan of attack. With his tongue he licks and then finally gives in and sucks. Steve squirms. It’s fucking beautiful.
“Bucky,” he complains, loving it.
Bucky kisses up the long pretty pale line of his neck. “Not my fault that you’ve got the prettiest tits, baby.”
“Jesus,” Steve says.
“What? You do,” Bucky defends. “You’ve always been beautiful, Steve, so fucking pretty, don’t you dare think otherwise. And now you’re — damn, baby, look at these curves, how’m I supposed to resist it, huh?” With his cooler left hand he rolls one of Steve’s sensitive little nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Steve’s back arches up and he whines. “Look at that…Jesus, baby, you want it,” Bucky mumbles. He laps at the sweat in the hollow of Steve’s throat and shamelessly gropes his tits. “I swear to God there’s not a woman on Earth who likes it as much as you. Someday I’m gonna get you off just doing this, doll, how do you like that? Suck on your pretty little tits until it makes you come.”
“Not today,” gasps Steve. “Buck, that’s just cruel —“
“Not today,” Bucky agrees. He reaches for the slick he’s brought, a hell of a lot more comfortable than the Vaseline they used to make do with, and slicks up the fingers of his right hand.
“You don’t gotta do that,” Steve says as Bucky works a finger inside him. It shouldn’t be possible, but somehow Steve’s hotter on the inside than he is on the outside — flushed all the way through. His voice is starting to hitch. “Buck, just — oh, you can just —“
“Thought you said it was too hot to fuck,” Bucky murmurs, teasingly.
“You’re a bastard,” Steve groans. “A real grade-A — grade-A asshole, Bucky Barnes.”
“Say, Steve, how many times do you think you need it today?” Bucky asks casually, because Steve is right, and he really can be a grade-A asshole. “Two or three? Or you want me to really wring you out? We got all night. Nobody’s knockin’.”
For some reason this makes Steve lurch up and kiss him. He pulls Bucky down on top of him and traps him with his legs. When he pulls away he’s smiling. “All night, huh?”
“Just you and me,” Bucky confirms. Jesus Christ, what he wouldn’t do for this man, looking at him with bright happy eyes. He kisses him again, and it’s so much, the heat of Steve’s soft mouth and the heat of him inside, where Bucky is stroking him, lazy and slow. He mimics the rhythm with his tongue and Steve makes a low sound, opening up. Bucky presses his mouth to Steve’s neck — he’s so sensitive, everywhere, and it only got better after the serum — and fits another finger inside where he’s so tight and hot. Steve tilts his head back and moans when Bucky trips the pad of his middle finger over his prostate.
“Didn’t answer me,” Bucky says.
“What?” Steve asks, breathily, completely distracted. Between them his cock is red and huge. He needs it, but it’s so fun to make him wait.
“How many times you need it today,” Bucky clarifies.
Steve’s shifting his hips, trying to get Bucky’s fingers back where he wants them. “I don’t…Buck, I don’t know.”
Bucky wants to touch Steve’s cock but he doesn’t, instead curling his fingers again just right, rubbing slowly and surely where it counts. “That’s not an answer, baby doll,” he breathes, and tugs Steve’s earlobe between his teeth.
“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve gasps. “Jesus Christ. Three. Come on.”
When Bucky pulls away Steve honest to God whimpers. “You asked for it,” Bucky reminds him, trying to slick up his dick as efficiently as possible and not linger. It’s damn hard when Steve is on his back with his legs spread.
“I did,” Steve agrees. He’s watching Bucky’s cock push through his metal fist with his lower lip caught between his teeth. The look and the naked lust in his eyes makes a flush rise on Bucky’s face. He grins and leans in closer. Steve’s skin is so soft where Bucky’s about to be, inside his thighs and against his little hole. Bucky pushes the head of his cock along Steve’s perineum. Steve squirms and grips at Bucky’s hips. His head falls back to expose the line of his throat as he swallows hard. Bucky has to do it. He repositions, braces his left hand beside Steve’s head, and starts pushing inside.
“Oh,” Steve gasps, and chews at his lips. Bucky gets all the way in and doesn’t waste any time in moving, a nice, steady rock.
“You feel so good,” Bucky says. It’s scorching inside. “So fucking sweet, Stevie, Jesus.” Steve’s eyebrows are knit together, and his eyes are closed, and his mouth is dropped open. Praise gets him the way nothing else does. Bucky’s hair, escaping out of the band, is hanging in front of his eyes, damp. Steve’s abs and his chest are slick too. Sweat is trickling and tiny drops of it pool in his throat. Bucky wants to bite him all over but settles for pressing both thumbs hard into Steve’s hips as he moves inside of him.
Steve is arching in the hottest way now, trying to get Bucky in deeper, just the lower dip of his spine pushing away from the floor, his ass and his shoulders still down. It lets Bucky grip there, just at the top of the perfect curve of that ass, all that tight plush skin. “Jesus, curves all over,” Bucky groans. “I want my teeth in it, Stevie.” Steve’s stomach is shivering and clenching, and Bucky knows that moan, knows that open red gasping mouth — has known it since he was old enough to want. “That’s right,” Bucky rasps. With his hot left hand he pulls at Steve’s cock. Jesus, he’s beautiful, his shivery needy moans. “Baby, yeah, that’s right, I wanna see you, I wanna see it, baby doll; Stevie, you’re so fucking good to me —“
And easy as anything Steve comes, overwhelmed by it, tightening up around Bucky inside, spilling hot and sudden all over himself. Bucky watches those abs clench, the way his hips stutter, his cock jerking. And his face, Jesus, and the sounds he makes, blushing everywhere, everywhere, moaning out loud, high and shocked. And Bucky, God help him, he’s gotta do it, it makes him crazy, and he presses Steve’s hips hard into the floor and pounds into him, jarring Steve’s lax exhausted body. He leans down to bury his face in Steve’s neck, to bite, to breathe in. “Baby, oh — baby,” he grits out, and it hits him hard, his hips jerking. He stays inside Steve after he finishes, powerless not to, the last aftershocks rushing through him. He’s pawing at Steve like he might drown and can’t even give a damn. Even though he’s got satisfaction settled in his groin it’s so fucking warm and sweet here that he never wants to move, just keep the head of his dick tucked inside Steve until the world ends, that sounds like a plan.
“Jesus, Jesus, baby doll,” he mumbles. “My baby, my pretty baby, I don’t know how I take you anywhere without bending you over the nearest goddamn flat surface —“
“The mouth on you,” Steve groans into Bucky’s hair, despairing.
“Hey, you oughta be proud of me,” Bucky says, pulling back. “It’s an accomplishment. I deserve an award for keeping it just to talking. How do we ever get anything done? Jesus.”
Steve is mindlessly massaging the back of Bucky’s neck with both his hands, his chest heaving. His come is hot and sticky between them, and when Bucky carefully pulls out and gets an eyeful his dick twitches sort of pitifully and he groans, because it’s not fair. He unsticks his death grip from Steve’s hips, and the thing is, he actually still bruises quick and easy like a peach, but the marks just fade a whole lot faster.
Bucky kisses Steve sweetly into a false sense of security and then reaches up and drags a pillow off the couch, plonking it onto the floor and then hefting Steve bodily over onto it, his face down and belly to the floor, the pillow under his hips. Steve groans, partially because he likes getting manhandled, but mostly because “Buck, that stain’s never coming out, you’re a jerk.”
“This pillow’s ugly as sin anyway,” Bucky replies. He smooths his hands, both of them, up the long expanse of Steve’s back, watching the muscles shift under the skin, the skin shift under the sweat. “Besides, you want rug burn on your dick?”
Steve grumbles an agreement and Bucky finally gets all the way down to Steve’s ass, taking two perfect handfuls. Steve’s got his arms folded under his head, and his eyes are closed, and he’s breathing deeply. Bucky reaches up and wraps a hand around Steve’s cock, unsurprised to find that he’s still a little hard, and Steve pushes his ass back at that, so Bucky, of course, swats it, and then thumbs him open.
“Je — eez,” Steve moans, burying his head in his arms. “Mmm, Buck —“
There’s come drooling out of him and Bucky thinks he might die. His hand is forced, there’s nothing for it, only one option to take in this particular situation — and so Bucky takes it, licking around Steve’s pink opening, kneading his perfect little ass with both his hands. He can’t take Steve like this, all wet and messy and exhausted, and the only thing he can think about is holding him down and fucking him until he’s loose.
“That’s filthy,” Steve groans, like he can read Buck’s mind — which actually wouldn’t be all that surprising, at this point.
“You’re wet,” Bucky replies, because really, that explains all his compulsions.
Bucky makes no effort whatsoever to lick Steve clean because he likes him when he’s dirty, and so instead he makes it his God-given mission to eat Steve out until he cries. First Steve’s pushy about it, like he is when he’s about to come, but when Bucky can get him over that hump, past it, all the way out and into the stratosphere, Steve will go limp and panting, give himself over to it, lay on his belly and claw at the carpet and shift his hips, his muscles tensing and releasing, rhythmic.
Bucky does that now. He builds it up slow, with just his tongue, just enough, but then he buries his face in Steve. It’s when he slides down enough to scrape his teeth across the sensitive skin behind Steve’s balls that he really loses it, whining high in his throat, his breath turning into gasping sobs, because he wants to get off but Bucky won’t let him. Instead gets his tongue inside, and traces it around the rim, and even uses teeth and his fingers. He slips his left thumb in and licks around it, and when he pulls it away his own come is on it, Jesus Christ — he's found Heaven. He's got patience when it comes to this, real, endless patience, everything else in the world slipping right away because nothing, nothing is as important as Steve's continuous, quiet, hitching sounds when Bucky nibbles real light and careful right at his hole, making a complete mess of him until he doesn't know anything but wanting.
Time turns watery, bleeding and stretching. Finally Bucky pulls away and sinks his teeth into the meat of Steve’s ass, and sticks two fingers easy inside him, pushing them in and out to feel the muscle clench.
“I think you’re drooling,” Bucky whispers, leaning up on his knees to kiss at Steve’s shoulders, which are shivering, like he’s cold, but really he’s just up to and beyond close to coming. “You like it, baby? Do you like it?”
Steve makes a noise because he’s far gone, but Bucky wants to hear the words. He digs his fingers into Steve’s scalp, tugging on his short hair, and Steve’s whole body shudders. “Say it to me,” Bucky murmurs. “Say it to me sweet, I wanna hear it. Are you gonna come?”
Steve makes another sound, a muffled, elongated “ah,” and Bucky twists his fingers right and with his thumb rubs at Steve’s perineum. When Steve turns his head so Bucky can see part of his face, his mouth is bitten red and his eyelids are fluttering, the lashes wet. “You’re so good,” Bucky promises him. “Steve, I can’t take it, you’re so good.”
“B —“ Steve manages, but then Bucky's got his left fist closed around his swollen cock, so hard and neglected it’s probably almost purple, and Steve comes wailing, tearing up bits of carpet, his body shaking and shaking, seizing up hard around Bucky’s fingers, letting out breaths like huge, heaving sobs and hiccups when he finally starts to come down from it. Bucky’s never seen anything like it, which is of course what he thinks every time he’s lucky enough to see it — and he’s forgotten how hard it gets him, how hot he feels under his skin when Steve’s coming to pieces, rolling his forehead against the carpet, catching his breath and starting to grin.
“You did so good,” Bucky praises, lavishing kisses all over Steve’s shoulders. “Baby, that was God damn amazing, I can’t believe —“
“Two down,” Steve says, “One to go.”
“You’re sure?” Bucky asks, because that was — that was.
“I need it,” Steve admits, and in Bucky’s left hand the pressure sensors tell him that Steve’s still a little hard, and Jesus christ, the carpet is a disaster, not just the pillow, how are they ever going to call in a cleaning guy without Steve spontaneously combusting into flames of embarrassment? This is insane, this is amazing — and Steve still wants more, so of course Bucky will give it to him, but first:
“Say that again.”
He thought it was impossible for Steve to turn any redder, but here they are, and the flush is spreading across the back of Steve’s neck now, the tips of his ears, and down his shoulders. He shifts his hips, almost a wiggle, and insists, “I need it, I need you —“
“What do you need?”
“I need your cock,” Steve moans. “Buck, come on, I want it so bad —“
“Jesus,” Bucky manages, and grabs Steve, thrusting inside in one quick and sure stroke. There’s no time to beat around it anymore, and he holds Steve’s little slim hips in both hands and gives it to him, really, really gives it to him, fucking him breathless. Steve claws the carpet right up under his hands, grunting low in his throat, deep in his chest. Bucky reaches down a hand and yanks Steve’s head up by the hair, and Steve reaches down to fist his own dick, and that’s it, game over — Bucky presses Steve’s face into the carpet and digs his metal fingers into Steve’s ass, fucking him as hard and as fast as he wants. Steve gets off first with a choked-off moan, his hips jarring Bucky’s out of rhythm, and Bucky sees no other option than to hold him down even harder. It only takes him a second longer until he’s coming too, loving to way Steve pants beneath him, twisting, and Bucky loses his mind in that moment, feeling nothing but white-hot goodness.
Finally Steve nudges Bucky off and rolls over onto his back, his legs still splayed wide. He’s covered in sweat and his own come and filled up with Bucky’s come and Bucky groans, spreading out beside him. The carpet itches his back, and he thinks he might burst into flame. It’s really hot outside.
“I think I’m dead,” Steve mumbles. “Jesus H. Christ, Buck, what the hell got into you?”
“Dunno,” Bucky admits. He’s so fucking thirsty, and there’s sweat in his eyes. “Got no idea. S'hot out. You laying there all pretty like that in your tiny —"
"Don't say it —"
"— Little panties," Bucky grins. Steve groans, because he's a little embarrassed still that he gets off on that. "It was good, though, right?”
“I feel like I got mauled,” Steve complains, but when Bucky looks over he’s got a grin on his face. He’s gotta be sore, and that makes Bucky feel hot, too.
“Well, what can I say?” Bucky asks. “Two things I got are stubble and enthusiasm.”
Steve smacks him lazily. “That’s awful.”
“Let’s take a shower,” Bucky suggests.
“You disgraced me on the carpet,” replies Steve.
“Yeah, ‘cause you asked for it.”
“Quit talking shit,” Steve laughs. “I swear, all you do is run your mouth.”
Bucky finds himself smiling. “You like it.”
Steve reaches over and rests his thumb on Bucky’s lower lip. His eyes are soft. “Well,” he concedes, “Maybe.”