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Pull me down sweet and low

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Bucky is watching from the doorway as Steve paces the length of the kitchen. He doesn’t notice Bucky’s presence, so Bucky stays quiet and watches. Steve looks wired, tense, all his muscles corded up and his jaw tight, and he doesn’t usually pace. Stressed, Bucky surmises, stretching himself too thin the way he always does. Steve looks after everyone, but no one looks after Steve.

No one except Bucky.

He approaches Steve on silent feet and slips his pistol out of its place at his side, checks the safety and then catches Steve with an arm tight around his waist and the gun pressed under his chin.

“Steve,” Bucky rumbles, smirking, “kneel for me.”

And Steve just drops, hits the floor without question or consideration and bows his head against Bucky’s hip with a sigh.

“Woah, hey,” Bucky murmurs, a little startled by Steve’s unhesitating compliance. He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, pets at him and takes the weight of his torso when Steve leans heavily in against his leg, eyes shut.

“Bucky.”

“Look at me, c’mon.” Bucky nudges Steve’s chin up with the muzzle of the gun, and Steve sighs out a soft breath and obeys. “Christ, Rogers, you gotta stop lettin’ it get this bad.”

“Okay. Stop letting me let it.”

Bucky’s mouth quirks and he smooths his thumb across the line of Steve’s cheekbone. “Quiet, you. There’s a good boy.” Steve’s pupils are already starting to dilate, but his eyes go darker still when Bucky presses his pistol to Steve’s lips. Steve’s mouth drops open without thought, but Bucky lingers, rubs his bottom lip red with the cold metal before he lets it slip in just past Steve’s teeth.

Steve makes a sound, more a whimper than anything else, and closes his lips around Bucky’s gun. It’s not the first time, but it still hits Bucky like a punch to the gut. “You should see yourself,” he murmurs throatily, “you’re so hot like this. Christ, Steve, you’re gorgeous.” Bucky can feel his gun through Steve’s cheek when he touches it, and Steve has the blissed-out, glassy look he gets when he lets go and trusts Bucky to do what he wants with him.

He could stare at Steve like this for hours, probably, except for how hot it gets Bucky to see him undone this way.

“Steve, hey,” Bucky says, tugging at his hair, “give me my gun back and you can have something else to put in your mouth.”

“Mm,” Steve says by way of reply, lets Bucky slide the pistol from his lips but follows his hand with kisses that make a secret little part of Bucky melt with affection. Steve opens Bucky’s pants and nuzzles his face in against him, mouths along the sharp line of Bucky’s hipbone and runs his hands up Bucky’s legs instead of getting right to the point. It’s not like Bucky minds; this is for Steve, he can take all the time he wants.

Steve, evidently, isn’t in any particular hurry. When he takes Bucky’s cock out he licks all up and down it, lavish and lingering until Bucky groans and pushes his pistol back to the notch of Steve’s jaw. It’s all the demand it takes– Steve shivers and his grip on Bucky’s thighs tightens reflexively, hands circling right where Bucky straps his thigh holsters in the field, and Steve closes his lips around Bucky’s cock.

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky encourages, turning the press of his gun into more of a caress as Steve takes him deeper, “fuck, yes, that’s so good, don’t stop.” He strokes his free hand through Steve’s hair and down to settle at the nape of his neck, and Steve’s shoulders give a pleased roll when he does it.

Steve works Bucky slow but relentlessly and makes needy little noises when Bucky guides his head. Bucky murmurs filthy encouragement and endearments, flexes his hips and kneads at Steve’s neck and shoulders. He slaps his pistol down on the kitchen counter right before he comes, sinks back weak-kneed for a moment while Steve licks him clean.

“C’mere,” Bucky murmurs, pulling Steve to his feet as he says it. Steve’s weight pins Bucky against the counter when Steve leans in and kisses him open and messy.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t even gotten you off.” Bucky bites at Steve’s bottom lip with a grin and does up his pants one-handed. “Bedroom, handsome, let’s go.”

When they get to Steve’s room, Bucky peels off both their clothes and presses Steve back on the bed, six feet of perfect naked muscle. He’s breathing heavily still, and Bucky crawls right on top of him, presses the lengths of their bodies together with Steve’s erection trapped between their bellies. It’s almost enough to get Bucky going again– he can’t yet, but fuck he wants to. Steve moans and thrusts up against him, clutching at Bucky’s hips as if he could press them any closer together. Steve is already desperately turned on, all sweaty and flushed, and it doesn’t take Bucky long to make him come with a low groan. He buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck to catch his breath, nuzzling into the skin.

“Now can I thank you?” Steve mutters, and Bucky laughs.

“Sure, babe. Anytime.”