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Bucky rolls over as beams of sunlight streak through the blinds and fall on his face in cross patterns. He fell asleep on the couch again, which is probably why his entire body aches when he stretches, and it’s definitely why his shoulder is so stiff he can barely move his left arm. After four years, he should know better, but he does it anyway. Sleeping in an awkward position is all it takes for his old war injury to flare up and make him extra cranky until the ache eases. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have any appointments for the next few days and can hole up inside his apartment.
It’s not just the sun that’s woken him, though. There’s also noise coming through the window from various neighbors. In particular, there’s a group of people chattering away happily on the fire escape just above his apartment the same way there almost always is, which makes Bucky even grumpier than ever.
“Get a job,” he grumbles as he struggles to his feet.
Instead of quiet, he’s met with raucous laughter, so he shuffles over to glance up through the metal steps as he works his shoulder in a circle. A young man glances down just as Bucky moans when his shoulder pops. Bright blue eyes over red, bitten, wet lips look down at him with curiosity and something else Bucky’s not sure how to decipher. Whatever it is, Bucky doesn’t appreciate the tiny smirk he gets from the slip of a man gazing down at him. With a glare, Bucky slams the window shut and stalks to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and fume in silence.
His day passes slowly, as it always does now that he’s retired. The carefree and unregimented days frustrate him after twenty-two years in the military. He’d planned to stay in longer, but the shoulder injury he suffered in the last year of the Korean Conflict forced him out sooner than he’d expected or wanted. Now, he makes his home in Brooklyn, near where he was raised, thanks to his modest pension and a generous inheritance from his mother. Despite his frustrations with civilian life, he’s got to admit his apartment and the view it offers of so many of his neighbors suits his needs beautifully. Instead of ordering people around, now he observes. From afar, he watches his neighbor’s actions and studies facial expressions. It’s easier this way. He’s removed from their issues and predicaments, and he doesn’t have to solve anyone’s problems but his own.
As the sun sinks lower in the sky, Bucky paces back and forth as he watches the hustle and bustle of the city dwindle and the windows in the courtyard light up one by one as his neighbors return home from busy lives away from their homes. A slight breeze wafts a flag hanging from a balcony, so Bucky opens his window again to allow the wind to move through his apartment. He enjoys airing it out as often as he can, and the fresh breeze tickles his nose in an easy, welcome way. Instead of the familiar tinkle of the city noises, he’s met with incessant chatter from the omnipresent group on the fire escape.
The stench of cigarette smoke meets his nostrils, and he winces at the memories of active duty it triggers. Everyone smoked in the military, and it’s taken every bit of the four years since he’s been out to kick the habit. Now, smoke makes him wretch. It, coupled with the unmistakable smell of liquor and weed, makes it even worse.
“Steve, tell us about the model that posed for you today!” a young lady urges with a lilting giggle. Her companions join her in cheering for Steve to talk. When the young man who’d made eye contact with him earlier that morning motions for the others to quiet and begins a humorous tale that makes his face light up with enthusiasm, Bucky can’t help chuckling under his breath. If nothing else, now he knows the presumptuous young man’s name. At the very least, Bucky can single him out if the group gets too loud.
Which they do. Every single night as Bucky tries to sleep after exhausting his observations of the neighbors and their nighttime routines. As he lies in his bed (or on his couch more often than not), twittering from the group of young men and women reaches his ears and reminds him that he’s no longer a spring chicken. In fact, he’s over the hill and pushing a rock down the other side.
Desperate for a breeze, Bucky tosses off his sheets and makes his way back to the living room, where he spies Alpine, his beloved white cat, sitting on the fire escape and preening for a shadowy figure that graces the right side of Bucky’s balcony. Cautiously, he makes his way over to the windowsill and pokes his head out with every intention of calling for his cat to come back inside. Allowing air inside the apartment will have to wait. He’s going to lock everything up tight if the intruder outside is any indication of the danger awaiting Bucky in the dark.
“Alpine,” he barks firmly, “come.”
Jumping at Bucky’s tone, the figure turns so that Steve’s youthful face stares into Bucky’s, complete with wide blue eyes and a lower lip that’s caught under teeth and glistening with moisture.
“Is that your cat’s name?” Steve asks when he’s recovered from the shock of being discovered. “He’s beautiful, by the way. I’ve always wanted a cat, but my ma…and then I’m not settled enough now to get one. Possessions, man. They don’t—I don’t have a lot of them, but a cat could be…really good.”
Finishing lamely, Steve’s face flushes red as his hands twitch. Bucky simply stares at him, unwillingly to demonstrate anything other than irritation that he’s found someone on his balcony at night when there shouldn’t be anyone there. Steve hems and haws for several more seconds before he finally seems to get it together.
“I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. I live upstairs with the others. I’ve seen you around a lot,” he blurts with hopeful eyes. When Bucky remains silent, he cocks his head and holds out his hand. “And you are…?”
“Not impressed,” Bucky replies in his gruff military tone and sees Steve’s face fall and his shoulders slump. “I’m Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, retired army. Served in the Pacific fleet during the world war, and I was under MacArthur in Korea until a shell left shrapnel in my shoulder. I don’t have time for people who don’t know their place, and yours is not on the fire escape outside my apartment at two in the morning.”
“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I just—I wanted to—”
Before he can finish a sentence, Bucky waves Alpine through the opening and slams his window shut again. Melting into the shadows, he watches Steve until he slinks back up the fire escape to his own place. The dejected look on his face and defeated posture is almost enough to make Bucky regret his brusqueness, but not quite. From what he’s seen over the past few months, Steve is undisciplined, spoiled, and directionless—everything Bucky wasn’t in his early years. It’s not his job to befriend a youngster looking for a father figure. Bucky’s got enough problems of his own.
The next day, though, Steve’s back for more, and the day after that as well. He’s tentative but persistent as he settles outside Bucky’s apartment and holds Alpine in his lap. No matter how disinterested Bucky pretends to be or how often he calls his pet, Steve’s not deterred. Alpine stays firmly in his lap, as well, and after two full days of attempting to pretend Steve’s not there, Bucky gives in and joins him on the fire escape.
“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” Bucky asks. While Steve’s steadfastness is irritating, he can’t help but feel a bit of admiration for his resolve. It reminds Bucky of his younger self, even if nothing else is the same.
“My mother taught me to plant my feet and not back down when I want something.”
“And playing with my cat is where you want to stake your claim? Seems a little…superficial.”
Although Bucky doesn’t miss the expression that flashes across Steve’s face, he chooses to ignore it. He’s not surprised when Steve pushes back. In fact, he’s almost proud.
“It’s not superficial to want to get to know someone like you,” Steve says with a sniff. “I could learn a lot from you. If you’ll stop acting like I’m a bother.”
“Trust me, a ‘bother’ isn’t the word I’d use for you.”
“What would you use for me?” Steve asks with wistful hope coloring his tone.
“Young. Lost. Clingy.”
A few beats of silence pass before Steve manages, “That’s all?”
“Maybe you should tell me more about you if you want me to have a different impression. I’ve only seen you through the window, and I can’t say I’m too impressed with someone with nowhere to go and nothing to do besides slide down a floor and disrupt my life.”
Obviously disgruntled, Steve blinks into the distance a few times before muttering under his breath. “You’ll just think I’m spoiled.”
“I already think that. Can’t hurt to confirm it.”
“Why are you so grumpy?” Steve demands. “All I’m trying to do is get to know you, and you’re being cruel. Would it hurt you to be polite?”
“Probably,” he retorts and grins when Steve snorts a response. “Hey, I’m interested enough to ask. I don’t like to repeat myself. I’ll leave it up to you whether you take me up on my invitation to share.”
“My dad was military like you. He died in the war in Europe. I was eight.” Steve falls silent at that, but when Bucky doesn’t comment, he continues. “My grandfather wasn’t a fan. Always thought my mom married beneath her station, so when my dad died, he forced her to quit her job as a nurse and come back home. The Hamptons. Very swanky. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, even if I wasn’t born that way.”
“A rich kid? Guess I should have figured that.”
Giving a swift shake of his head, Steve says stubbornly, “I don’t—I’m not into that. Possessions. Money. It’s not what life’s about. That’s why—”
“That’s why you live in a pretend commune with the beats? Or why you dress like a greaser sometimes with your smokes tucked up in your sleeves? Can’t help slipping into your preppy ways occasionally either,” Bucky observes. “You don’t know who you are, do you?”
A quick shake of Steve’s head is the only answer, and it eats at Bucky’s heart a little. For someone so clearly yearning for approval, Steve doesn’t yet know how to handle criticism. As a former military officer, it’s hard for Bucky to lavish praise instead of correction, even if Steve’s not under his command. Besides, allowing himself to feel anything but irritation and detached curiosity for Steve promises little more than trouble. Steve’s already taken up plenty of his time.
“Well, I’d suggest figuring that out. Until then, you should scamper back home.”
“I’m not a toddler. I don’t scamper.”
“Sure, Steve. Whatever you say.”
Stepping back into his apartment, he turns his back on Steve and ignores him until Alpine slinks back inside and the fire escape is vacant. If there’s an emptiness inside him from Steve’s absence, he refuses to admit it.
Thankfully, Steve’s back the next day when Bucky looks out his windows. Unobtrusive and patient, Steve doesn’t seek attention or speak until Bucky finally crosses to the window and sinks into the chair next to it.
“Do any soul-searching last night?” Bucky asks as he sips on a cup of coffee and sets a second one on the windowsill.
Reaching for the mug, Steve thanks him quietly, and Bucky notes that Alpine’s curled up in his lap again. That traitorous cat is getting on his nerves, and Steve’s almost as irritating. He hates that he feels affection for both of them. That was not in his plans.
“I don’t believe in war,” Steve announces, which isn’t at all what Bucky expects to hear.
“You don’t, huh?”
“No,” Steve answers and takes a long drink of the coffee. “War is destructive. The military industrial complex is evil, and it’s destroying this country, our allies, and good men caught up in the crossfire.”
“The crossfire. That’s rich from a little boy who’s never fought for more than attention from his friends and a hit from a bottle and bud,” Bucky sneers. “I don’t need you insulting my life choices, and I don’t need your peacenik rhetoric.”
“That’s not—that’s not what I meant,” Steve insists as he swings his legs over the windowsill and ducks his head into Bucky’s apartment. “Honest. I’m not insulting you. I’m…I’m in awe of you and my dad and everybody who’s willing to fight. Just because I don’t believe in war doesn’t mean I don’t believe in soldiers. You’re everything that inspires me.”
Steve’s earnest expression is unmistakable now that they’re face to face, and Bucky grudgingly motions Steve inside to sit on the sofa. With an irritated mrowr, Alpine jumps onto the cushion between the two of them and snuggles into Steve’s side while turning his back on Bucky.
“How do you claim to respect me when you don’t believe in what I’ve done with my life?” Bucky asks and is more than a little surprised at the hurt he feels from Steve’s admission. Whether or not Steve should matter to him, Bucky’s pride is wounded more than he wants to admit.
“I admire your choices,” Steve argues and almost trips over his words in an attempt to explain quickly enough. “I admire everyone who puts his life on the line for others. It’s just that war—this push for more and more weapons that’s taking us closer and closer to the brink of annihilation—it hurt you, Bucky. I’ve seen you favoring your shoulder. I lost my father. Thousands of good men gone and more wounded for no reason other than to stop the Soviets from taking over a country halfway around the world that doesn’t matter to you and me.”
“Who says it doesn’t matter? If Korea was the first step—”
“We can’t save the entire world. We shouldn’t.”
“So, we beat the Nazis to let the Communists win?”
“We fight the conflicts that have to be fought and stop sacrificing good men like you on the altar of war.”
“Steve—”
“What happened to your arm?”
The question is so unexpected that Bucky doesn’t know how to respond. He’d lost more than his arm the day he was injured. Half his battalion, including someone he’d grown to love, was killed in the offensive that resulted in a mangled limb and broken heart. He’s been keeping everyone at an arm’s length since.
“Does it hurt?”
Flinching away from Steve’s long fingers that flit over the metal and skin at his wrist, Bucky stands abruptly and moves across the room. “It’s time for you to go.”
“Bucky…”
“Now!” Bucky barks and steels himself against the way Steve flinches at his harsh order. Holding his breath, he watches Steve climb out the window and up the fire escape before collapsing onto the couch with his head in his mismatched hands. Furious, he smacks Steve’s coffee cup so that brown liquid seeps into the wooden floor. Before he can do more damage to his apartment, he grabs his keys and slams into the hallway. In seconds, he’s outside the building and striding down the street in long steps that eat up the sidewalk and take him to a place he hasn’t been in years.
Coney Island looks more or less the same way it did before the war, which is how long it’s been since he’s visited. He used to come here with friends, and it was here that he had his first kiss and his first fumbling time beneath the boardwalk. He’d been so stupid then, no more worldly than Steve is now, but his stint in the Pacific and then his career that took him to Korea had matured him and given him a purpose. Losing his arm, his men, and his heart had turned him into something the young Bucky Barnes wouldn’t even recognize. He doesn’t want to be this jaded, and it’s hard to stay so unyielding in the face of the fresh, youthful optimism that Steve brings to his life.
Making his way under the pier, Bucky sinks into the sand and stares at the water for hours. No one disturbs him, although he hears tinkling laughter and the roar of the Cyclone as the sounds carry, and the sugary smell of cotton candy assails his nostrils until his stomach growls.
“What am I doing?” he finally mumbles, but there’s no answer except for the slap of water against the shore as the waves break on the sand. “And why does it have to be him that makes me want something more than my lonely little life?”
Horrified by the realization that Steve’s wormed his way into Bucky’s shriveled heart, he swallows hard against the lump in his throat. Wiping his hand over his mouth, he scratches at his beard in an attempt to clear his head. Unfortunately, all that does is remind him of Steve’s serious, sincere expression when he climbed through the window and left Bucky alone.
The sun’s setting by the time Bucky stumbles to his feet and makes his way back home to the apartment with big windows and a fire escape that leads to Steve’s place. He’s not at all surprised to find Steve waiting for him with Alpine in his lap. This is what he gets for leaving his windows open—or for going out in public at all.
“You’re back,” Bucky observes tiredly. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Steve says softly and picks Alpine up and cuddles him to his chest. “I’m sure it bothers you. People asking. I, uh, really want to know. Not because I’m curious. I just want to understand you better.”
With a sigh, Bucky flops onto the couch and glowers at Steve, but he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he nuzzles into Alpine’s fur and blinks at Bucky with brilliant blue eyes.
“You’re not going to stop asking, are you?
“I’d like to know you better,” Steve repeats, and the wistfulness in his voice unravels Bucky’s reticence.
Raking a hand through his hair, Bucky answers gruffly, “I lost my unit in a guerilla attack. Shrapnel in my shoulder and so much damage that— I couldn’t use my arm, but Stark—Howard Stark—brought me and other injured vets in for help. He gave me this.”
Steve watches raptly as Bucky flexes his hand and studies the metal plates as they click into place. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers in awe. “I’ve never seen anything that turns destruction into art the same way, and I’ve tried.”
“You’ve tried?” he asks and registers Steve’s quick nod.
Blushing furiously, Steve lowers his eyes before admitting, “I’m an artist. At least, I’m trying to be.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Does it— Are you in pain?” Steve asks timidly. When Bucky nods, Steve murmurs, “I can massage it—if you want, I mean. I used to—I have a friend who showed me how.”
“Steve,” he warns, but Steve blinks at him in adoration.
“I just want to make you feel better.”
“I don’t—”
Steve’s face falls, and Bucky’s heart sinks. He doesn’t want to hurt Steve any more than he already has. “It’s pretty stiff tonight. If you don’t mind…”
Unceremoniously dumping Alpine to the floor, Steve motions for Bucky to turn his back, and he’s barely settled before Steve’s surprisingly strong fingers dig into his shoulder. Groaning at the pain that shoots from his old injury, he’s about to bark at Steve when the ache gives way to exquisite pleasure that turns his grumble into a long moan.
“Fuck me. That feels amazing,” he gasps since he can barely catch his breath. “You’re—this is incredible.”
Bucky can’t see behind him, but he can sense Steve’s smile and he longs to turn and appreciate the beaming pride. Instead, he faces away from Steve and gives himself over to capable hands that make his shoulder relax in a way it hasn’t since he was injured.
“I can do this for you every day,” Steve offers, but Bucky’s scared to think about how attached he could get to someone who makes him feel this good on a daily basis. “I don’t mind.”
When Bucky stays silent, Steve continues to massage until Bucky’s eyes droop, and he crumples against the couch. Sighing in contentment, Bucky blinks a few times, but he doesn’t have the strength to fight the drowsiness. He barely registers Steve pressing a kiss to his clothed shoulder before he drifts into sleep.
Steve doesn’t return the next morning, and he’s absent from the fire escape until almost sunset. When Bucky glances up and sees Steve waiting in his usual spot and Alpine standing on his back legs to peer out the open window, Bucky sighs and walks over to invite Steve inside.
“What do you want?” he demands, but he’s not prepared for the answer.
Dressed in a blue shirt that perfectly matches the hue of his eyes and jeans that hug his thin body, Steve looks him right in the eye and whispers, “Pay attention to me.”
Before he can stop himself, Bucky snorts in derision, and then squeezes his eyes shut at the guilt that rips through him. Steve’s made himself vulnerable, and it’s time for Bucky to stop fighting him every step of the way. For better or worse, Steve’s part of his life now. He can’t help but be thankful for the companionship beneath his irritation.
The problem is that his mouth doesn’t match his mind.
“Why? What do you have to offer me?”
Eyes blazing, Steve spits, “I could offer a lot if you’d stop being stubborn.”
“Stubborn? Me? You don’t take no for an answer. I’ve told you to leave me alone. I’ve been rude. I’ve slammed windows in your face. And yet…”
“You still can’t stop thinking about me, and your cat likes me more than you. Can’t say that I blame him. At least I pet Alpine and love him.”
Panting, Bucky glares, but there’s no vehemence in his expression. He’s too turned on, too entranced by the way Steve’s eyes blaze and his lips part with the tip of his tongue just visible. They’ve advanced on each other as they argued, and now they’re toe to toe.
“You’re such a little shit,” Bucky hisses, exasperated beyond belief, but he’s not too proud to admit that he’s been won over by Steve’s persistent neediness.
Chest heaving, Steve agrees with a nod. “Yes. You should make sure I learn my lesson.”
“And how would I do that?” Bucky asks, his voice grown husky and his heart squeezing in his chest. Reaching out, he tugs Steve to him and grunts when his thin body presses against Bucky’s front. When he wraps his arms around Steve in a loose embrace, it almost feels like his body’s acting on its own without his consent.
“I think you know,” Steve whispers as his eyes grow progressively larger.
Cradled in Bucky’s hold, Steve squirms against him, and the pressure doesn’t leave any doubt how much he’s attracted to Bucky. With a groan, Bucky closes his eyes as his mouth captures Steve’s. The gentle brush of moist lips explodes into a jolt of lust. With a sharp inhale, Bucky moans into Steve and tugs him closer. In response, Steve practically climbs him.
“Sweet Jesus,” he hisses at Steve’s enthusiasm, but that’s lost in the slow slide of tongue and squeeze of Steve’s legs around his torso. His mouth is sweet, like ice cream on a hot summer day and a hint of the apple pie his ma used to make for him on his birthday. Steve tastes like everything he’s ever wanted, and there’s no good reason not to indulge.
Stumbling backward, Bucky regains his balance and hikes Steve up higher, his spindly thighs hooking over Bucky’s elbows. Forcing himself to break the kiss, he pulls back and blinks hazy eyes until he can focus, but all that does is give him a clear view of Steve’s face suffused with desire.
“That good, huh, babydoll?” Bucky growls and nips at Steve’s bottom lip. “Not so cocky now, are you? Nothing rolled up in your sleeves or smart aleck comments tripping off your tongue. Got you speechless.”
“Bucky,” Steve gasps, “please.”
It’s the please that does it. The breathy, whimpered plea that demonstrates Steve’s desire. He’s been begging for Bucky’s affection since the moment their eyes first locked, and Bucky hasn’t made it easy for him. Despite gruffness that’s bordered on outright rudeness in most of their encounters, Steve has persisted, and his tenacity is endearing. Besides, his youthful exuberance is exactly what Bucky needs to let some of his jaded bitterness go.
“Okay, doll,” he whispers. “Shhhh. Okay. Okay.”
Lowering Steve onto the couch so he can take pressure off his shoulder, Bucky stretches out over Steve’s lithe frame and wraps eager limbs around his neck and waist. Holding himself off Steve’s body, Bucky drops his mouth to Steve’s neck and inhales cinnamon and pine. Shivering with need, he begins a slow, tender, erotic assault just under the hinge of the jaw that leaves Steve trembling in his arms. Alternating between sucking, licking, and blowing, Bucky doesn’t give Steve a break until a whine catches in the back of his throat. Then, Bucky latches on and nips at creamy flesh until he’s sure he’s left his mark for others to see.
“Yeah,” Steve mewls as Bucky drags his lips over smooth skin. “Yeah, that’s… Oh, Christ, it’s good, Bucky.”
“It’s going to be so much better than that, doll,” he promises, allowing his breath to ghost over Steve’s skin, which pebbles under the promise. “I’m going to devour you.”
Metal fingers trail over sensitive, pale skin, and Steve lets go of him long enough to strip his t-shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. Pert pink nipples beg for attention, so Bucky laves at them with the flat of his tongue. He goes back and forth, sucking and licking, until Steve mewls and bucks under him with abandon. Holding Steve down, Bucky marks up his chest and neck more, leaving red blotches and teeth marks that will fade to light bruises on Steve’s fair skin by morning.
“I want to make you happy too,” Steve pants as he writhes under Bucky’s grip. “Let me—”
“Hush, sweetheart,” Bucky croons into alabaster skin. “I’m satisfied just watching you respond to me. Touching you is…everything.”
“Pants,” Steve gasps. “Pants!”
Placing kisses along Steve’s belly, Bucky slides downward and unbuckles Steve’s belt before unclasping his jeans and tugging them down over slim hips. White boxers do little to hide Steve’s arousal, so Bucky buries his face in the fabric and blows heated breath over Steve’s erection. Whimpered sighs fill the air, and Bucky’s lips stretch into a pleased smirk as he wets the cotton so that it clings to Steve’s tip.
“That’s a good boy,” Bucky murmurs as he strips Steve bare. “Look at you. So hard for me. Eager. Ready to please. Have you ever done this before, doll? Ever had a man’s mouth on your prick? Ever been swallowed down and sucked until you spill?”
As he speaks, Bucky nudges against Steve’s shaft and licks a stripe from the base to the tip. Rolling Steve’s balls in his palm, Bucky pulls breathy moans from his new lover and revels in the sounds that caress his ears. He’s never been more interested in taking things slowly and rejoicing in every shiver, plea, and sigh. Steve smells like clean sweat and rain on concrete. Salt coats Bucky’s tongue until he sucks on Steve’s head and tastes the tang of arousal as it smears from the tip.
“Bucky, please,” Steve whines, his desperation evident in both his voice and the way he squirms under Bucky’s body. “Please…”
He’s tempted to draw it out more, to make Steve twist and turn and go out of his mind, but he’s fast becoming just as impatient as Steve. Settling onto his stomach, he slides his hands under Steve’s ass and tilts his hips upward. Then he opens his mouth, closes it over Steve’s head, and sucks.
Steve comes off the couch under Bucky’s touch. Back arched, strangled moans caught in his throat, fingers clutching at Bucky’s hair and the couch cushions, Steve twists and writhes until Bucky forces him still. Relaxing his throat, Bucky takes Steve in as far as he can and chuckles at his response. For someone who’s been trying to be so grownup and worldly, it’s obvious Steve’s as new to this as a virgin. Maybe he actually is.
Sucking and slurping, Bucky wets Steve’s shaft until it glistens with his saliva and slides easily in and out of his mouth. It’s a pretty cock, respectable in length and about as thick as the diameter of a quarter. Since Steve’s so slight, his erection is in perfect proportion to his body. It also makes it a lot easier for Bucky to suck his cock fully.
“I can’t— Oh, fuck. Bucky…” Steve pants in incoherent phrases.
When Bucky lifts his head, Steve’s eyes are closed in his flushed face, and his lips are parted as he pants and trembles. Settling into a rhythm, Bucky takes him in all the way, slides his lips up the shaft, toys with the tip with his tongue, and then drops his head down again. He repeats his actions over and over until he’s sure Steve’s close. Then he wraps his metal hand around Steve’s dick and moves it slowly as he tongues the slit in Steve’s cockhead. In seconds, salty fluid pearls against Bucky’s tongue.
“Christ,” Steve whines as Bucky sucks on the tip, and then it swells slightly before Steve’s orgasm coats Bucky’s tongue and Steve goes limp under him. Choked moans and curses fill the air as Bucky takes Steve in far enough to gag on him. When he finally pulls off, strings of spit connect his lips to Steve’s flagging erection. It’s wet and shiny and softening in Bucky’s grip.
“This is what you get when you’re a good boy, Steve,” Bucky says gruffly.
Raising up on his elbows, Steve blinks at him with brilliant blue eyes over a dazed, goofy grin. His mouth drops open when Bucky strokes him several more times and then moves his fingers lower to smear fluid over Steve’s puckered hole.
“What are—what are you doing?” Steve gasps.
Careful not to scare him, Bucky answers, “I’m opening you up, doll. Opening you up so we can—I can…”
“We’re not done?” Steve squeaks, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead in obvious confusion.
Chuckling softly, Bucky shakes his head and licks at Steve’s perineum. “You’re not even close to being done. Not after you asked for this.”
“I—”
“Do you want to stop?” he asks in a firm tone. He’s so hard now he’s afraid he’ll break off if he doesn’t get to bury himself in Steve’s perfect ass, but he’s not going to push Steve farther than he’s willing to go. It’s obvious now that he’s a novice at this—that any other time he’s done anything he’s been fumbling around with someone as inexperienced as he is. Bucky’s far from inexperienced, and he’s both willing and able to be a very good, very patient, very thorough teacher.
“Oh, fuck no. Don’t stop,” Steve whimpers his consent.
Biting down on his tongue, Bucky barely keeps himself in control at Steve’s eagerness. His soft cries pepper the air like perfume as Bucky works him open slowly and surely. He’s gentle and persistent, lavishing Steve with affection and adoration. His attention is unrelenting as he covers Steve with spit and saliva. When he’s worked two fingers inside and curled them repeatedly until tears stream down Steve’s flushed cheeks, Bucky’s finally satisfied.
When he rises to his feet, Steve lifts his head and protests, but Bucky hushes him. Stripping his shirt over his head, he grins when Steve’s eyes darken at the sight of his chest and bug open when Bucky slips his jeans over his hips. He’s hard and ready—has been for ages—and it’s clear Steve’s never seen anyone as well-endowed as Bucky is. Scrambling backward at the sight, Steve looks at him fearfully, but Bucky strokes himself and speaks gently.
“Don’t be scared, doll. I won’t hurt you. Won’t hurt you. Gonna make you feel real good.” When Steve’s gaze drops to Bucky’s dick, he rubs his palm over the tip and grunts at the sensation. Telegraphing every movement, he reaches into a drawer in the side table and pulls out a bottle of slick. Steve’s eyes follow his movements as he spurts some into his hand and spreads it over his cock. “You still want this, Stevie? Still sure you want to be grown up?”
Hurt colors Steve’s face, and Bucky immediately regrets teasing him. Whether or not Steve’s had the same type of life as Bucky, he’s a good kid—young man—and Bucky’s grown fond of him in the past several days. Besides, Steve’s open and willing, and it’s been so long since Bucky’s found anyone attractive, let alone someone who turns him on as much as Steve does.
Slicking up his cock some more, Bucky gives Steve a look intended to broadcast how much he wants this, and Steve’s face softens with longing and fascination. Holding out his hand, Bucky takes Steve’s and tugs him upright. With his bare skin pressed against Steve’s tiny frame, he leans down and kisses Steve with every bit of longing he feels and readily takes all of Steve’s eager reaction.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he suggests huskily. “You deserve better than to be screwed on the couch your first time.”
“How’d you know?” Steve says as he squirms under Bucky’s gaze. “I didn’t—”
Cupping Steve’s cheek, Bucky shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispers.
“But the windows are out here.”
The words fall on Bucky’s ears like bombs. For all the watching he’s done out the windows, he’s never considered that someone might be looking back. For the first time in forever, there’s something interesting happening inside his apartment, even if it’s not anything he wants others to see.
Limbs wrap around his neck and tug him down into another kiss. For several moments, all Bucky can think is how sweet Steve’s mouth is and how hungry he is for the affection Steve lavishes on him, but then…Steve’s hands drop to Bucky’s back and trail down to his waist. The proximity of thin fingers so close to places that haven’t been touched by anyone but himself for so long is almost too much.
“The windows aren’t why you want to do this, right?” Bucky says in a hoarse voice. Insecurity eats at him, despite plenty of evidence that Steve’s interested in much more than sex. Still, he wants to be sure.
“Of course not,” Steve sighs and strokes Bucky’s cock, smearing the slick over Bucky’s balls as he fondles. “It’s just an added bonus.”
Shoving aside any lingering doubts, Bucky cups Steve’s ass and exhales slowly through his teeth so that a low, seductive whistle pours over Steve’s skin. Trembling and whining quietly, Steve blinks at him slowly and gasps when Bucky turns him around and walks him over to the couch again.
“Face the back. No, not like that. On your knees. Elbows on the top. Spread your legs a little. Yeah, there we go,” Bucky grunts when Steve’s settled and waiting. Spitting into his palm, he shivers a little before rubbing his hand all over Steve’s crack. His hole flutters as Bucky buries his middle finger up to the first knuckle just to make sure he’s still loose. Then he pulls his fingers free, lines himself up, and presses forward.
“Fuck!” Steve whines in a breathy moan as Bucky pushes into him.
He takes his time, alternately holding still and shoving into Steve’s tight channel. It’s so snug that it feels like a vise is gripping Bucky’s erection. With every thrust, he can feel each caress and ripple of Steve’s body. Dropping open-mouthed kisses on Steve’s back, Bucky does everything he can to hold back, to go slow, to make it good for Steve. Finally, though, he can’t stand the anticipation any longer. Wrapping his arms tightly around Steve’s chest, he surges forward with a snap of his hips, burying himself in Steve’s tight, scalding heat, and groaning into Steve’s ear.
Swearing under his breath, Bucky holds still, desperately trying to make sure he hasn’t hurt his young lover. Steve’s sharp cries ease to whimpering and writhing, and then he simply rams back against Bucky and moans his name.
“So full. I’m so fucking full,” Steve slurs as he collapses onto his forearms.
Burying his face in the sweet juncture of neck and shoulder, Bucky strokes in slow, smooth, gentle thrusts until Steve mewls his name repeatedly. His hand finds Steve’s cock and cups it in his palm. Rubbing and stroking it, he revels in the desperate wails from Steve as he recovers and sits hard and weeping in his hand.
“That’s it, doll. Rock with me. Don’t fight the rhythm,” Bucky murmurs into Steve’s ear, but it takes almost all his concentration to form those words. He’s gripped so tightly in Steve’s ass, that he’s already having to tell himself to slow down if he wants this to last. Steve seems to have other ideas.
Maybe he’s lying about how much he wants this or maybe he just enjoys pushing Bucky’s buttons, but Steve doesn’t bother to take it slow or maintain a sense of decorum. With his body sheltered by Bucky’s frame, he rears back and meets every one of Bucky’s strokes with eager abandon. He’s not quiet as his voice penetrates the still night air, so Bucky clamps his left hand over Steve’s mouth to muffle the desperate pleas to fuck him harder. It wouldn’t do to be caught, not in this political climate with McCarthy making life hell for people like them.
“Yeah,” Bucky growls. “How’s it feel to have my thick cock in your peach of an ass, Stevie? Jesus, you’re so sweet. Gonna bury myself in you forever.”
Steve’s answer is high-pitched, desperate pleas for more, so Bucky gives it to him harder. Slamming into Steve’s ass with rapid, energetic thrusts, he rides an edge that’s so good, he forgets about the windows and the annoying group of neighbors that make up Steve’s communal living arrangement. Truth be told, he couldn’t remember his own name if his lover wasn’t moaning it into his palm as he grips Steve’s chin tightly.
Something’s happening inside him, and he’s not sure he’s okay with it. The physical connection between Steve and him is magical, and it’s not long before he’s rutting with abandon. Head lolling and barely able to maintain even the smallest shred of dignity, Bucky yanks Steve back against his chest and pounds into Steve’s ass until he sees fluid dripping from Steve’s tip onto the couch cushions below. Letting go of everything but Steve’s hips, Bucky fucks deeper with a staccato rhythm as Steve falls forward until his head is bowed as his body jerks and quakes. When Bucky brushes the tip of his finger over the bottom of Steve’s balls, Steve tenses and then shudders in halting spasms until he sags in Bucky’s arms.
He’s almost there. So close to emptying himself inside Steve’s beautiful body, Bucky bites his bottom lip again until he tastes the tang of his own blood. Swiveling his hips, he thrusts repeatedly and then allows himself to fall. His vision whites out, his limbs go limp, and he slumps forward to drape himself over Steve’s sweaty, trembling, precious frame. He’s positive his entire soul pours into Steve’s tight channel, and he fights for breath as he attempts to get his brain to work.
Heart pounding in his ears, Bucky tries to lift his head and finds he can’t. Instead, his cheek rests on Steve’s spine just below the shoulder blades where the rapid flutter of his heart makes Bucky’s clench. He starts to pull out, but Steve whines. Staying snug inside Steve’s body, Bucky presses his eyelids closed and sucks in air until his lungs don’t feel hollow.
“Steve,” he finally whispers, “I’ve got to…”
Slowly, he shifts his hips and pulls free of Steve’s perfectly rounded ass. He groans at the loss and drops his hand to massage the puffy rim when Steve sobs. As his release oozes out around his fingers, he stifles a moan in the back of this throat.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks with a tremble in his voice. “Are you okay?”
Steve stretches and wiggles out from under Bucky’s bulk so he can turn and wrap himself around Bucky again. He kisses all over Bucky’s shoulders, neck, and face with sweet caresses, and then he falls back against the cushions with a dreamy expression.
“I’m wonderful,” he sighs. “The bee’s knees.”
Extricating himself from Steve’s hold, Bucky grabs a handful of tissues to clean himself, although he’d rather do anything than end their time together. Then, he glances at Steve and sees the shine between his legs. Cheeks flaming with pride, he nudges Steve’s knees wide with the tip of his finger and swipes through the mess until no more fluid drips from him.
“All I had to do was ask for you to pay attention?” Steve asks in a husky voice
Caressing Steve’s smooth skin, Bucky refuses to meet Steve’s eyes. After all his protests, he’s both terrified and delighted that he’s fallen for this sweet, innocent, earnest, young man, but he’s not quite ready to admit that yet.
“I’ve been paying attention for a long time,” he confesses. “I just finally accepted I like what I’m seeing.”
Steve’s mouth tips up into a happy smile, and he reaches up to drag Bucky back down into an enthusiastic kiss. “I want to see you again,” he confesses. “Over and over again, Buck. Want to be yours.”
“Come to bed,” Bucky orders softly and holds out his hand.
This time Steve follows instead of arguing. Curling together under the covers, Bucky intertwines his legs with Steve’s and presses his chest to Steve’s back. He’ll be able to think more clearly in the morning, or maybe he’ll give in and lose himself inside Steve again before sending him on his way.
The next morning, Steve leaves before Bucky has to ask, but he returns the next day and the next and often after that. Each time, Bucky’s sure he’ll find the strength to turn Steve away. He never does. A month later, he’s still telling himself that he can get by on his own when Steve slips through his window and into his bed. Bucky welcomes him just as he has every time until finally Steve doesn’t leave at all.