Chapter 1: Snowed In
Bucky runs his hand over the pale expanse of bare skin in front of him. His head is cradled in the soft slope at the small of Steve’s back and all he can see is the rise of Steve’s shoulder and his mussed hair beyond it.
“I always forget how useless you are after you fuck me,” Bucky says.
Steve makes a soft humming noise that sounds like a laugh. Bucky feels it rumble beneath his cheek.
“It’s all pull out and roll over and go to sleep.”
“I always knew in my heart I was a 1950s husband,” Steve says.
“Meanwhile I’m left to live a quiet life of desperation, cigarettes, and constant drunkenness.”
“You’d make such a perfect housewife, darling.”
Bucky can hear the smile in Steve’s voice and he runs a finger from one freckle to another on Steve’s back as he shivers beneath the touch.
“I feel a great kinship to Betty Draper right now,” Bucky says.
Steve laughs out loud at that and turns his head enough to peer over his shoulder at Bucky.
“Can you blame me though?” he asks. “I know you’re not able to admire your own ass but let me assure you it’s really fucking amazing. It’s exhausting work worshipping it as it was meant to be worshipped.”
A loud bark of laughter escapes Bucky’s mouth. Steve is utterly ridiculous. “So my ass is to blame?”
Steve says, “Yes,” without an ounce of embarrassment.
“Well,” Bucky says as he turns himself over onto his stomach. “If we’re blaming asses right now I’d like to lodge a formal complaint about this one.” Bucky gives Steve’s ass a slap which makes him jump and start to laugh.
“Oh, I know my ass is fantastic. I won’t argue with you on that.”
“Always so modest,” Bucky says as he presses a kiss to the slightly pink skin and runs his hand over the perfect curve. Not that Bucky can fault him for his bragging, Steve’s ass makes him nearly crazy with want. He’s sure he could spend hours lying between Steve’s legs with his face buried in it; licking, kissing, fucking his tongue into Steve until he makes those desperate little whimpering noises that make Bucky’s cock ache. Hours and hours until Steve is senseless and crying from it.
It’s just one of the many things Bucky wants.
And that’s been the problem this past year; so much Bucky craves, but so little time. He takes what he can get, grabbing an hour here, two there, whenever Steve can get away from his courses, his needy students, and all the other things that keep him from Bucky. They seem to be endless, those things, and sometimes Bucky wonders where he even falls on the list. Is he near the top? Somewhere in the middle maybe? He hopes for the former but assumes it’s the latter. He doesn’t fool himself into thinking this thing the two of them have is as important to Steve as it is to him. Sometimes he thinks he’ll lose Steve if he ever finds out what it actually means to him, it’s just too much, and Steve has never claimed to want that.
It’s meant to be casual, all of it, but for Bucky that was months and endless kisses and fucks ago. Sometimes he wants the ability to go back in time just to be able to laugh at his younger self; laugh and point at him when he first fucks Steve and thinks that’s all it will ever be. He’d laugh as he tells him how he’ll agree to see Steve again and how, that next time, Steve will kiss him slow and sweet and it will never be casual again. He wonders what it would be like to watch himself fall.
There has never been anyone like this, like Steve, and Bucky is ill-equipped to handle it. He feels like he’s flying through a dark night at a terrifying speed, out of control and helpless, and it’s only by a goddamn miracle he hasn’t crashed and burned.
Steve moves under his touch, arches into him, greedy and absolutely shameless about it. Steve is never shy and it utterly fascinates Bucky the way he opens up, the freedom and comfort he has in his own body. Bucky’s never been that way with another person, but maybe it’s only because he wasn’t with Steve before. He couldn’t let go until he found him.
Bucky bites down lightly on Steve’s ass as he moves his hips against the bed, rubbing his cock against the sheets. Steve moans, says Bucky’s name in that way of his that means, ‘yes, yes, so good,’ and ‘come on already, more, I want more.’
Bucky is about to get up on his knees so he can move over and settle himself between Steve’s thighs and give his ass proper attention when his phone rings.
“Shit,” he mumbles as he presses another kiss to Steve’s ass. “Ignore it. I’m not answering.”
But Steve being Steve, ignores him and grabs the phone off the bedside table.
“Fuck, is that the time?” he says as he rolls away from Bucky and off the bed. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll miss the 6:00 train.” Steve tosses the phone onto the bed next to Bucky. “It’s Natasha, you better answer.”
Bucky frowns as he watches Steve start to collect his clothes. Out of sheer stubbornness he presses ignore and drops the phone back on the bed. Steve sees what he does and laughs at him.
“You’re such a child.”
“Come back to bed,” he says as he reaches out and grabs Steve around the waist. He manages to drag him close enough to steal a kiss but afterward Steve squirms out of his arms.
“It’s snowing like crazy and you know how the trains get when the weather is like this. It’s bad enough on a Friday without snow.”
Steve is tugging on his jeans and carefully tucking his half-hard cock in after having obviously given up on finding his underwear. Bucky gets out of bed and wraps his arms around Steve from behind, presses his nose into Steve’s neck and nips at the still bare skin.
“Bucky,” Steve says, voice trying to be firm, but he turns in Bucky’s arms and starts kissing him.
Bucky slips his hand down to Steve’s ass and grabs on, pulls him closer. Fuck, just the thought of Steve naked under his jeans is enough to get Bucky begging again.
“I was just getting started,” he says as he presses a couple of fingers into the seam of Steve’s jeans, pushing between the cheeks of his ass and not being a bit subtle about what he wants.
Steve gasps against Bucky’s lips. “Trust me,” he says, “I’d much rather stay here and let you eat me out than sit on that goddamn train for two hours.”
“Then stay,” Bucky says.
Steve presses one more kiss against Bucky’s lips then pulls away to start putting on his shirt. “I wish I could.”
Bucky wants to ask what’s stopping him, why can’t he just stay? He knows Steve goes out to check on his mother every Friday night and stays until Saturday morning, has done ever since Sarah got sick, but she’s better - thank god - and it’s really just habit now. Sarah wouldn’t be upset if Steve missed one Friday, especially not in this weather. There’s no reason at all why he shouldn’t stay.
Except the fact that’s not what they do.
They don’t stay, they fuck and go, and that’s that.
Bucky doesn’t bother to get dressed as he follows Steve out into the living room. He watches as Steve gets his coat, hat, and gloves on then hops around trying to get his boots on and tie them up with his gloved hands. Bucky has to smile because sometimes Steve is a bit of an idiot and he can’t believe Brooklyn College actually pays him to educate and shape young minds.
“Need me to tie your shoes for you?” Bucky asks.
Steve huffs out a laugh. “Shut up.”
Bucky’s phone starts ringing again and he sighs. Natasha. For fucksake.
Steve leans in for a quick kiss goodbye. “Better answer it,” he says. “You know she’ll just keep calling until you do.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bucky says as he walks Steve to the door. Steve laughs when he stays standing in the entryway even as Steve yanks the door open. “Eh,” Bucky shrugs. “It’s not like they haven’t seen it before.”
“You routinely roam your building’s hallways naked?” Steve asks. “I should move here.”
You should, Bucky thinks, instead he just rolls his eyes.
“I meant a naked man, you know, in the general sense, not in the ‘I’m the creepy, weirdo nudist in the building’ kind of way.”
“Ah,” Steve says as he smiles at Bucky and pats him on the chest. “Good to know. Saves me the hassle of packing up and moving.” Steve is halfway out the door when he adds, “But if it ever does change to the Barnes Nudist Colony be sure to let me know.”
Bucky just snorts and puts his hand over Steve’s face to shove him out the door.
He closes the door behind him and walks over to the window that looks down on the street. He’s tempted to open it up and shout down to Steve to come back up. When he looks out and sees how heavily the snow is coming down he makes up his mind to do it. Neither one of them paid any attention to how much it was snowing when Steve was getting dressed. The trains will be an utter disaster and Steve will probably end up sitting at the station waiting on delays in a massive crowd of pissed off people wanting to get home.
When he sees Steve’s red hat appear out on the street he unlocks his window and opens it up.
“Hey! Professor!” he shouts as he sticks his head out the window. He laughs when Steve stops and starts looking around. “Up here.”
Steve looks up and laughs. “Oh my god, you’re naked! Get back inside. You’ll literally freeze your balls off.”
“Come back up.”
“I already told you I can’t, I’ll miss the train.”
“You know the trains will be delayed and the station will be hellacious, come back up and stay. Catch the 9:00. I’ll make dinner.”
“You cook?” Steve asks.
“Don’t act so surprised, I’m a good cook.”
“Besides, I haven’t sucked you off yet. I was planning on giving you a hell of a blow job today.”
Steve’s laugh is loud and clear, caught somewhere between embarrassed as fuck and highly amused. “Bucky! There are children out here, quit talking filth.”
“You’re the only one on the street right now, you idiot,” Bucky says and Steve just laughs at him again.
“Well, there could’ve been children.”
“Dammit, Steve, just get up here. I’m freezing my balls off.”
“God. Fine!” Steve shouts. “Buzz me back in, asshole. And you better be on your knees when I get up there.”
Bucky laughs and shuts the window. He’s tempted to say something embarrassing when he buzzes Steve in but he just smiles and imagines Steve’s stupid grinning face as he rushes back inside.
“Get out of the door you fucking exhibitionist.” Steve says when he gets back to Bucky’s apartment. He pushes Bucky back inside as he starts to unzip his jeans. “Didn’t I tell you to be on your knees?”
Bucky grins and tugs Steve’s jeans down his hips as he kneels down in front of him. “Happy?” he asks.
“I’d be much happier with my dick in your mouth, but take your time,” Steve says as he waves his hand around.
“Sarcasm isn’t cute, Steve.
“I’m always cute.”
Bucky snorts at that but he leans in and licks the tip of Steve’s cock and the sharp hiss of breath out of Steve’s mouth as his hips push forward makes Bucky want to smirk with satisfaction. Steve can be such a little shit but Bucky knows exactly how to shut him up.
He grabs Steve’s hips and holds him in place, he presses his thumbs into his hipbones and when he looks up Steve’s eyes are already starting to glaze over. He knows how much Steve loves being held just that little bit too tightly and he digs his thumbs in a little more. Steve sighs and when he does Bucky takes him in his mouth; just halfway, just to get the taste of him on his tongue, before he opens up his throat and takes as much of Steve’s cock as he can.
Steve’s hands are in his hair holding on as he slowly fucks into Bucky’s mouth.
Bucky holds Steve’s hips still as he pulls back, when he does Steve’s fingers untangle themselves from his hair and slowly trail down the sides of his face and along his jaw. It’s such a gentle touch and Bucky leans in, presses his face against Steve’s hipbone and wraps his arms around his waist. He’s on his knees hugging Steve and Steve lets him; lets him hold on. He kisses across Steve’s skin; a trail from hip to hip and back to nuzzle into the curls at the base of Steve’s cock, his scent fills Bucky’s nose and he breathes him in.
It’s so quiet around them, the falling snow muffling any noise from the street outside, and Bucky loves Steve an unbearable amount. He tightens his hold around Steve’s waist, he wants to say so many things to him but he’ll never stop if he starts and he doesn’t want to lose Steve just now.
“Bucky?” Steve’s voice is quiet, questioning, and Bucky looks up at him, shakes his head and smiles. Steve’s cock is hard and warm, pressing against Bucky’s chest and he knows Steve is probably aching to come so he lets go of Steve’s waist and wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. He strokes him slowly a few times before taking him in his mouth again. Steve must have been on the very edge when Bucky stopped before because it doesn’t take long before Steve draws in a breath and drags his fingers down Bucky’s neck in warning, but Bucky stays where he is and lets the heat of Steve’s come hit the back of his throat.
“Bucky,” Steve says his name again, only this time the pleasure is clear in his voice. “Fuck. Your mouth.”
“Was it worth coming back up?” Bucky teases once he’s let Steve slip from his mouth.
“Shut up,” Steve says with a shaky laugh as he sinks to his knees next to Bucky and takes Bucky’s cock in his hand. “Smug asshole.”
Bucky laughs and buries his face in Steve’s neck as he strokes him through a slow, sweet orgasm -- all that’s left of him after they’ve been fucking each other’s brains out the entire afternoon.
They both collapse into a heap on the floor. Steve sits with his back against the wall, his legs sprawled out in front of him and Bucky curls up against his side.
“I can’t even be bothered to put my dick back in my pants right now,” Steve says and Bucky laughs.
“I’m telling you, nudity is the way to go.”
“Yeah, when you look like you it is.”
Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re not five foot nothing any more, you’ve got to realize you look like a fucking Greek god, right?
Steve just leans down and kisses the top of Bucky’s head. “Sure, whatever you say.”
Bucky doesn’t say anything for a bit, just presses his face into Steve’s shoulder, but Steve needs to hear what he wants to say to him so he whispers it and hopes the quietness of it makes it less overwhelming somehow.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”
And he means it, the sincerity in his voice would be saccharine in any other moment, but Steve is always so self-deprecating, so stuck in the past and how he used to look and all of the shit he had to take because of it, that sometimes Bucky doesn’t know if Steve actually believes the things he says.
Steve is quiet for a moment but then Bucky feels the tentative touch of his fingers on the back of his neck before they tangle in the hair at his nape.
“Thank you,” Steve says.
It’s quiet but Bucky hears it. Steve’s fingers tighten just a bit, holding him closer against his side, and Bucky’s glad he said it.
“So. Where’s my food?” Steve asks. “I was promised blow jobs and food.”
“You really are a dick of 1950s husband, aren’t you?”
Steve laughs and Bucky slaps the back of his hand against Steve’s stomach before he gets up to put some clothes on. Steve gets to his feet as well and starts yanking up his jeans as he follows Bucky back into the bedroom.
“If you spot my underwear toss them over,” he says.
“Are they your favorite?” Bucky teases.
“Yes, they’re my favorite panties and I want them back.”
Bucky grins. “And now I want to see you in lacy, frilly panties. Thanks for that image.”
“I’d wear them.”
“Oh, I know you would.”
“Mostly because my cock is exhausted and chafing like mad against these damn jeans.”
“Annnd the fantasy is ruined,” Bucky says as he pulls out the bottom drawer of his dresser and gets an old pair of pajama bottoms out for Steve. “Here, wear these.”
“Christ. Thanks,” Steve says as he instantly starts to peal off his jeans and kick them across the room.
“See, this is why we have an underwear situation,” Bucky says as he picks up the jeans and tosses them on his reading chair in the corner.
Steve just laughs and puts on the pajamas. “And here I was thinking you’d find it sexy that I can barely control my lust for you that I fling my clothes across the room the moment I’m in your presence.”
“I always love hearing how things play in your head, they’re so very different from reality.”
By now Bucky’s in a pair of pajama bottoms of his own and a dearly loved, worn-thin t-shirt. Steve comes over and slips his arms around Bucky’s waist and up underneath the shirt.
“Liar. You find it totally sexy.”
Bucky laughs quietly as he drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders and leans into him. “Maybe a little.”
“You also secretly love when I leave my underwear over because you’re a fucking deviant who loves sniffing them when I’m gone.”
Bucky laughs, loudly and happily.
“Yes,” he says. “You’re absolutely right. I sniff them, and sleep with them under my pillow.”
Steve nods sagely. “Because you pine.”
“Yes, because I pine.”
“And you’re a dirty, filthy pervert.”
“And I’m a dirty, filthy pervert,” Bucky agrees.
He can feel Steve smiling against his neck and he loves him so much right then that he has to step away from him before he gives himself away.
“Food then?” he asks as he claps his hands together. “I’m thinking some stir-fry, how does that sound?”
“Amazing,” Steve says as he follows him to the kitchen. “Although if I’m being totally honest, you’ve fucked me into starvation so I’d eat a bath mat right now if you put some mustard on it.”
“Lovely,” Bucky says as he rolls his eyes.
The first thing Steve does once he’s in the kitchen is to pick up a knife and start gesturing at Bucky by making stabbing motions at him. “Is there anything I can chop?”
“Not if you’re going to stab me first,” Bucky answers.
“Hey, I’m an excellent chopper.”
Bucky just looks at him, eyebrow raised.
“Okay,” Steve concedes. “I’m a fairly good chopper?”
Bucky’s eyebrow raises even higher.
“How about a mediocre one?” Steve tries.
“Steve,” Bucky says. “Have you ever chopped anything before in your life?”
“Not as such, no, but I’m sure it can’t be all that difficult. I’ve seen children do it on MasterChef Junior.”
“Ah, well, good then. I totally trust you with a knife now. You’ve watched MasterChef Junior.”
Steve huffs. “Well, you don’t have to be so sarcastic about it.”
Bucky takes the knife out of Steve’s hand and pushes him towards the table. “Go. Sit. Just watch and look pretty.”
“I can do that,” Steve says cheerfully, but ducks away from Bucky so he can go grab a beer from the fridge before sitting down at the table. “I’ll just sit here and look adoringly at you.”
“Don’t strain yourself.”
Steve laughs and sits back to watch as Bucky gets their dinner ready. They’ve never had any problems filling the silence between them. Bucky adores hearing every brilliant, ridiculous, and idiotic thing that comes out of Steve’s mouth, and for some reason Steve finds him equally intriguing. So Bucky cooks and Steve sits on his chair and drinks his beer and it’s painfully mundane and simple but Bucky makes himself take note of the moment. He wants to store it some place safe where it’ll always be when he needs it.
When the food is done Bucky enjoys watching Steve devour it more than he enjoys eating it himself. He thinks it’s probably best they’ve never gone on a proper date before, like out to a restaurant, because Steve makes obscene moans of pleasure as he eats and Bucky has the sneaking suspicion that having a half-hard cock throughout an entire meal in public is probably pretty well near the top of embarrassing things to have happen on a date. So he happily sits in the privacy of his own home and watches Steve as he eats his food, practically licking the plate clean, before he eats half of Bucky’s food as well.
“If we keep eating together I’ll have a damn belly by the time I’m thirty-five,” Steve says as he reaches his fork across to Bucky’s plate for about the fifteenth time.
“That’s alright,” Bucky says. “I think I’d like you slightly squishy.”
Steve snorts out a laugh. “Oh, thanks for that.”
“What?” Bucky asks as he pushes his plate closer to Steve and leans back in his chair. “I find it sexy. Don’t shame me, Steve.”
Steve grins at him and Bucky knows his own responding grin probably looks a bit on the crazy side, but he doesn’t particularly care in the moment.
Steve scrapes up the rest of Bucky’s food and drops his fork next to the plate. He lets out another one of his obscene moans as he slides down in his chair. “I’m so full, I’m gonna die.”
“You’re going to slide off your chair is what you’re doing to do,” Bucky says as he watches Steve slip even further down.
“Just let me go,” Steve says. “I’ll just lie here under the table until I can walk again.”
“Oh, like a little kitchen goblin,” Bucky says as he gets up and starts gathering up their plates and utensils. “How cute.”
Steve gives him that little look of his where he scrunches up his face and raises an eyebrow. “You know, I should probably worry about your strange little kinks -- squishy goblins and underwear sniffing -- but you’re an amazing fuck so I’ll let it slide. Just don’t ever do weird things to me in my sleep, please, and we’ll be good.”
“Don’t worry, nothing strange will be done to you in your sleep,” Bucky says. “I’ll be too busy watching you sleep as I rub my nipples to do much else.”
Steve’s laugh turns into a groan as he rubs his hand over his stomach. “Oh God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“See where your gluttony gets you?”
“It gets me squishy in the middle, just how you like me,” Steve says.
Bucky looks over his shoulder and sees Steve grinning back at him and, well, he can’t really argue with that logic.
Once all of the dishes are in the dishwasher, with no help at all from Steve, Bucky pulls him up off his chair and into the living room to sit him down in front of the TV. Steve spends an inordinate amount of time making fun of the shows Bucky has saved up on his DVR. He’s laughing so hard at Steve’s disgust that when he yells at him, ‘An entire season of America’s Got Talent, Bucky? The entire season? You’re the actual worst.’ he’s near tears.
“You watch MasterChef Junior,” Bucky says, like that makes any sort of case in his favor.
“Hey, those kids are fucking amazing,” Steve says. “They taught me everything I know about chopping.”
And that only makes Bucky laugh more, but Steve is laughing by then too, and by the time Steve realizes he’d started an episode of America’s Got Talent they’re fifteen minutes into it and Steve doesn’t turn it off because he says he needs to see if the dude with the trained cats gets in.
Bucky considers it a victory, for him, and for shitty reality TV everywhere.
“Your taste in TV is still the actual worst,” Steve says a few minutes later, but he’s slumped against Bucky’s side and Bucky really doesn’t give a shit either way.
They’ve watched three episodes and Steve has claimed at least seven times that he’s gotten stupider with every episode, when Bucky checks on the weather and train delays.
“Oh shit,” he says.
“What?” Steve asks.
“It’s really fucking snowing, they’ve suspended all trains. I’m sorry, Steve, I had no idea it was that bad out.”
“Is everything down?”
“Looks like,” Bucky says as he shows Steve his phone.
“Fuck,” Steve says as he gets up and goes to look out the window.
Bucky joins him and sees how heavy the snow is coming down, and how thick it already is on the sidewalk and street. The cars parked along the street look like little white humps.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky says again.
“It’s not your fault.”
“But I made you come back up, maybe if you’d gone you’d have caught a train.”
“I doubt it,” Steve says, still looking out the window. “Don’t worry about it, it’s definitely not your fault.”
Bucky leans into Steve’s side. “Still sorry though, will your mom be upset?”
Steve had called her when Bucky was making dinner for the two of them to tell her he was going to be late.
“Of course not, she’ll be happy I’m staying put in weather like this. I’m just sorry I’ll have to impose on you. I mean, I guess I could find a hotel or something. Walk there maybe —”
“Jesus Christ, don’t even. Stay. You’re fine.”
“I can take the couch.”
“Like hell you will. I mean I fucking love my couch but my bed is so much better.”
Bucky can see the corner of Steve’s mouth turn up.
“I could say a lot of dirty shit right now, but I’ll refrain.”
Bucky laughs. “Well, you wouldn’t be lyin’.”
Steve turns to look at him. “True.” The way he says it, the way he looks at him, makes Bucky’s insides do crazy shit.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” Bucky tries for teasing.
Steve turns into him, hooks an arm around Bucky’s waist. “You really don’t mind me staying then?”
“Not even a little bit,” Bucky says. “You can stay the weekend. If you want. I mean it doesn’t look like the snow is going to stop any time soon and it’ll probably be a pain in the ass for you to get home. They should have everything sorted by Monday morning though so you can just head out to your classes.”
Steve’s thumb has found its way underneath the waistband of Bucky’s pajama bottoms and is rubbing slow circles on his hip. Steve’s not looking him in the eyes, instead he’s looking at Bucky’s neck and Bucky’s afraid he’s said something stupid, saying Steve can stay the weekend. They’ve never spent the night together, much less an entire weekend, and it was probably really fucking stupid of Bucky to suggest it. Maybe he should offer to bring up nearby hotels on his phone, say he’s kidding, say —
“Like a sleepover?”
Bucky thinks Steve’s joking, laughing at him, but his voice is quiet, his breath warm on Bucky’s neck.
“We can do each other’s nails,” Bucky says just as quietly.
“If I fall asleep before you promise not to put my bra in the freezer.”
Steve’s other arm goes around Bucky and his lips brush against Bucky’s neck.
“I can’t make that promise,” Bucky says.
There’s a small puff of air against Bucky’s neck as Steve lets out a quiet little laugh and then his lips are on Bucky’s. He wraps his arms around Steve and kisses back, moves them both back toward the couch. Steve trips a bit on the corner of it and they both go sprawling down onto it, Bucky landing on top of Steve.
“You’re just trying to get me to watch more episodes of America’s Got Talent, aren’t you?” Steve asks and Bucky laughs against his lips.
“Absolutely. One hundred percent.”
Bucky can feel Steve’s smile against his lips, it’s one of his favorite things the way Steve kisses him through smiles.
“I really do want to see how far cat guy gets,” Steve says.
Bucky laughs. “You’re an idiot.”
“The man trained cats, Buck. That’s talent.”
Bucky rolls off of Steve and reaches for the TV remote. “Fine. Sit there and watch weird, creepy cat guy.”
“No, don’t leave,” Steve says and grabs Bucky’s wrist to pull him back to the couch. Steve shifts to his side and drags Bucky down in front of him. “Stay with me and the weird, creepy cat guy.”
“You’re going to murder me in my sleep, aren’t you?”
“I may, my herd of cats are hungry and they’ve grown accustomed to the taste of human flesh.”
“Yeah, okay,” Bucky says as he settles himself more comfortably in Steve’s arms. “That came to you way too naturally. I’m gonna text Natasha and tell her where to find my body if I disappear.”
Steve ignores him. “Speaking of Natasha, why has she stopped calling? She’s usually not deterred by you ignoring her.”
“She hasn’t stopped. I just silenced my phone.”
“Oh my god, you’re in so much trouble.”
“Like I’m scared of Natasha.”
“Are you kidding me?” Steve says. “You’re terrified of her.”
“I am not!”
Steve gets up on an elbow so he can look down at Bucky. “Liar.”
“I’m not terrified of her.”
“Okay, so what’s an adjective that means a miniscule level down from terrified then?”
Bucky elbows Steve in the stomach. “Shut the fuck up.”
Steve snorts out an, ‘ow’ and settles back down behind Bucky. “You better at least text her to appease her a little bit.”
“Whatever. She’s my editor, not my mother.”
Steve’s hand sneaks up under Bucky’s t-shirt, starts rubbing his stomach. “You’ve already texted her, haven’t you?”
“No,” Bucky huffs as he starts up the next episode of America’s Got Talent and turns the volume up.
“You totally texted her.”
Bucky mutters, “Shut up,” and Steve laughs and hugs Bucky closer.
“I don’t blame you, I don’t even know her and I’m terrified of her.”
Bucky rolls his eyes but grins anyway. Steve’s an asshole, but he’s a sweet one.
“Whatever. Just be quiet and watch your creepy cat boyfriend.”
After seven more episodes they’re both nearly asleep so they stumble to Bucky’s bedroom. They stand at the end of the bed and look at each other.
“Left?” Bucky asks.
“Right,” Steve answers.
Bucky smiles. “Perfect.”
“It’s like we were made for sleepovers,” Steve says.
The words surprise Bucky and he looks over and thinks he sees a slight blush rise up Steve’s face as he ducks his head and crawls into the right side of the bed.
“I’m warning you, I snore like a fucking chainsaw,” Bucky says as he gets in next to Steve.
“I knew you’d think so.”
Steve laughs and they both settle on their backs. Bucky stares up at the ceiling for a few awkward minutes, he feels Steve fidgeting beside him.
“This is not at all awkward,” Steve says into the quiet, and his tone is so dry and flat Bucky snorts out a laugh.
“I love that we’ve repeatedly had our dicks in each other’s asses but sleeping in a bed is what’s weirding us out.”
“It does say a lot about us,” Steve says.
“That we’re damaged, abnormal human beings?” Bucky asks.
Steve turns to his side and Bucky can feel him staring at him so he looks over at him. It’s just light enough in the room to make out Steve’s stupid, grinning face. It’s a really fucking perfect face.
“Should we cuddle?” Steve asks. “Or shouldn’t we do something so normal?”
“I think we should do something awkward and weird,” Bucky answers.
“Should we touch feet then? I think if we touch feet that would be weird and unsettling.”
Bucky’s laugh is quiet, happy. “I’d fucking love to touch feet with you in a weird and unsettling way.”
Bucky can see Steve’s grin get wider. “Good. I’m totally into feet,” he says as he turns out his foot and presses it against Bucky’s.
“Oh my fucking god, go to sleep weirdo.”
Steve laughs. “‘Night.”
Chapter 2: Saturday
Bucky wakes up with Steve’s face in his armpit and his thigh thrown over Bucky’s crotch, and his very awake dick.
“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky mumbles as he rolls away.
Steve makes a muffled noise that might be the word, ‘what’ but Bucky’s not entirely sure. He does know, though, that Steve is now pressed against his back with his own hard dick snug up against Bucky’s ass. When Steve starts moving against him Bucky mutters.
“Too early, Steve.”
“Come on,” Steve says, voice groggy. “Just let me stick it in you.”
Bucky snorts and Steve’s arms tighten around him as he starts pumping his hips against Bucky’s ass in earnest.
“Just the tip,” Steve adds.
Bucky laughs out loud at that. “Fuck you, man.”
“That’s cool, we can do that instead.”
“Oh my god, ge’off me. I gotta piss,” Bucky says as he squirms away from Steve’s octopus arms and rolls off the side of the bed. Steve chuckles and pulls the covers over his head once Bucky’s out of the bed.
After he pisses Bucky stands and looks at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. He’s screwed, so fucking screwed. Waking up to Steve snoring into his armpit had been fucking perfect, sleeping beside Steve had been fucking perfect. He wants to do it every damn day, and that’s the problem. He wants to wake up to Steve warm beside him, to Steve saying stupid shit to him.
There’s always been something in him that’s shied away from relationships. He’s only had one long-term relationship and even then he knew, they both knew, that it wasn’t ever going to be permanent. Everything has always felt fleeting to him. He prefers being alone, having his own space, being selfish with his time. But then there’s Steve and suddenly Bucky finds himself counting down the minutes between the time Steve calls and when he shows up at his door with his hot, wet mouth and demanding hands. His weeks are built around Steve’s class schedule and when he can expect him to call or text or come over.
And he doesn’t mind it. He loves it, in fact; the way his stomach drops when Steve laughs, and how his body shakes with want, with desire for Steve. The hunger in him for Steve consumes him, feels like a fucking fever, and he just keeps wanting more. More and more despite the emptiness he feels every time Steve leaves right after they fuck, every time he never stays.
He’s a fucking idiot, but if he can have Steve for this weekend he’s taking it. Every single second of it. If it’s his only chance, well, then fuck it.
Steve yells from the bedroom, something about breakfast, and Bucky splashes water over his face.
“Are you gonna make me breakfast?” Bucky calls out to Steve as he walks out of the bathroom.
“Bucky.” Steve’s voice is whiney. “I can’t even chop, how am I supposed to make you breakfast?”
Bucky smiles to himself. “That excuse isn’t going to fly forever.”
There’s a moment of silence and then Steve says, “Well, is it still flying this morning?”
“Barely,” Bucky says.
“Will it fly long enough to get me out of making breakfast?”
“Oh my god, stop asking me questions and go take a shower while I make breakfast.”
Steve walks out of the bedroom and is adorably rumpled and smiling.
“I shower and I get food?”
“Yes,” Bucky says as he walks over to Steve.
“Mornin’,” Steve says as he lays his hand on Bucky’s hip and leans in to kiss him good morning.
Bucky makes a face. “Let me amend that, shower and brush your teeth, then food.”
Steve laughs and tries to kiss him again, wraps both his arms around him. “What?” He says as he breathes all over Bucky’s face. “You think I need to brush my teeth?”
“Annnd you’ve just gone from pancakes and bacon and eggs to getting an Eggo waffle.”
Steve buries his face in Bucky’s neck and growls, the vibrations tickle along his neck and make him squirm. Bucky hooks his arms around Steve as he smacks noisy, wet kisses along the curve of Bucky’s neck and shoulder.
“Joke’s on you,” Steve says in Bucky’s ear. “I love Eggo waffles.”
Bucky laughs and pushes Steve away. “Go away and clean up so your mouth stops smelling like something died in it.”
Steve slaps him on the ass on his way to bathroom and Bucky heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. Despite his threat to make toaster waffles he doesn’t actually have any and he fucking wants pancakes and bacon. He’ll just have to make sure he gets most of the bacon, screw Steve and his smartass mouth.
When Bucky hears the shower shut off he calls out to Steve that he can go rummaging in his drawers and closet for clothes. He hears a mumbled reply and a couple of minutes later the sound of Steve walking back to the bedroom.
Bucky’s got the pancake batter mixed up and the bacon is baking in the oven so he decides to take a quick shower too. He heads to the bedroom to shed his pajamas and to grab some clean clothes to take into the bathroom. When he gets to the doorway he stops, Steve is standing in a pair of his flannel pants and nothing else. He’s got the top drawer of Bucky’s dresser open and he’s slowly running his hand over the stacks of sweaters inside.
There’s something about the look on Steve’s face that stops Bucky from letting him know he’s watching. Steve’s face is soft in a way Bucky’s never seen before and it actually hurts to look at him; a sharp stab of pain in his side, and he almost gasps from it, but then Steve picks up Bucky’s favorite sweater and suddenly his breath is completely gone.
It’s the navy blue one with the holes and the frayed cuffs, it’s soft and warm and the one he always wears when he’s on a writing run. The times when he’s frantic with it, the words flowing and he doesn’t stop, not even to eat. Steve’s seen him at it a couple of times when he’s come over in the middle of one of Bucky’s spells without texting first. All Bucky remembers is a faint, faraway rustling in the kitchen and then a sandwich and a glass of water appearing on his desk before the door to his apartment opens and closes again. Coming to hours later to an empty plate and a text from Steve saying the sandwich fairy hopes he wrote all the good words and none of the bad that makes him laugh, the first sounds he’s made all day.
Steve has the sweater in his hands and he’s looking at it, lifting it up and pressing it to his face. Bucky sees him close his eyes and take a deep breath, breathe in. He must make a noise because Steve looks up at him, eyes wide.
“It’s clean. I promise,” Bucky says inanely.
Fuck. Stupid. So fucking stupid.
“Ha. Yeah. Good,” Steve says, his face flushed. “I never know with you.”
“Wear it,” Bucky says too loudly.
“The sweater.” He points at it, like Steve’s an idiot and thinks he’s talking about a different sweater. “You should wear it.”
Steve holds it out to him. “It’s your favorite.”
Bucky has no idea how Steve knows that, but he does, and Bucky loves him. So much.
“It is. You should wear it though. Blue looks good on you.”
“I like it on —” Steve stops for a second, like he’s not sure he should finish his thought, but then starts again. “I like the way it looks on you. When you’re at your laptop, lost to everything but your words, your hair a mess. Your hair’s always a mess.”
Bucky wants to kiss Steve and never stop, instead he walks over to him so he can grab clean clothes out of the dresser. Steve doesn’t move, he stays standing close to Bucky and he can feel the heat radiating off of him.
“I’m always a mess,” he says.
Steve smiles. “True.”
Bucky reaches into the drawer and pulls out a shirt. “Just wear it, Steve. I’m gonna go shower quick then finish up breakfast.”
Bucky leaves before he says anything else. He has a hard time trusting himself around Steve as it is but when he shows how much he knows Bucky without even trying it’s a thousand times worse.
Bucky hears music coming from the kitchen when he gets out of the shower.
“You better not be ruining breakfast,” Bucky yells over the music.
“I’m not ruining it, I’m improving it.”
“Don’t you fucking touch anything, Steven.”
By the time Bucky gets dried off and dressed and out to the kitchen Steve’s got his head practically in the oven.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“The bacon smells like it’s done.”
“You need your entire head in the oven to check that? There’s such a thing as an oven light.”
“But it smells so good,” Steve says.
“It’s got four minutes and,” Bucky says as he checks his phone on the counter, “twenty-three seconds until it’s done.”
“Hmm,” Steve says. “Anal much?”
“Hey, I’ve got my bacon making down to an art. This exact time leads us to bacon perfection every time.”
Steve leans back against the counter and looks at Bucky. “Why does knowing you have a bacon making plan make you even sexier than you already are?”
“Bacon’s sexy?” Bucky shrugs.
Steve grins and kisses him. “Minty fresh,” he says as he waggles his eyebrows.
“Am I supposed to be impressed you followed basic human hygiene protocols?”
“I love it when your military comes out. Gives me a boner.”
“Bacon and the military. Should I start worrying you’ll start calling me Sergeant Bacon when we fuck?”
“It’s a real possibility,” Steve answers.
Bucky laughs. They don’t talk about their pasts a lot, but Bucky thinks Steve knows more about his than anyone else in his life aside from Natasha. But Natasha is Natasha and she would’ve known everything about him even if they hadn’t lived together for three years. Although Bucky knows she’s learned more about him since becoming his friend than she ever knew as his lover. She knew how to dig, he’ll give her that, but he knows he never made it easy. He lets things go with Steve much more easily, willingly, than he has with anyone else. Letting Nat get to know him was a never-ending fight. He’s not sure if that’s because of who they both were, fuck did they love to fight, in all ways, or if it’s just easier now to let go because it’s Steve.
Bucky thinks it’s a little of both, but probably mostly Steve.
With Steve and his stupid face Bucky just wants to open his mouth, and his fucking bloody heart, and let it all spill out at his feet. Feelings vomit all over the asshole.
“You’re totally one of those weirdos who buys shit like bacon-scented cologne.”
“Oh my god,” Steve says. “If you smelled like bacon I’d never stop fucking you.”
Bucky snorts. “This is veering into very troubling territory.”
“Bucky,” Steve says, his tone serious. “We’ve been fucking for nearly two years now and I really feel it’s about time you started learning about my real kinks. Bacon-scented you just happens to be one of them, please accept that and rub some bacon behind your ears after breakfast.”
“Leave,” Bucky points at his front door. “Leave my apartment right now.”
Steve laughs and grabs him around the waist, pulls him in for a kiss. “Never!” he says against Bucky’s lips.
“No! Get out!” Bucky says as he turns his face away from Steve’s kisses. “And take your filthy bacon with you.”
Steve keeps trying to kiss him even though they’re both laughing and Bucky is trying to get out of Steve’s arms while Steve is fighting him every step of the way. Bucky starts slapping at Steve which only makes him laugh harder until Bucky finally gives in and kisses him back. Steve’s warm and soft and wrapped up in Bucky’s favorite sweater and it’s so hard for Bucky to stop himself from whispering into their kisses, ’God, I love you.’
The timer on Bucky’s phone starts beeping at them and Steve shouts out, “Bacon!” which somehow feels like the funniest thing Bucky’s ever heard. He’s practically left in a heap on the floor when Steve abruptly lets go of him to get to the bacon in the oven. Bucky manages to right himself as Steve pulls the bacon out of the oven. It’s not until Bucky turns back to the counter that he realizes Steve’s messed with the pancake batter.
“You fucker,” Bucky says. “What did you put in my pancake batter?”
“Nope. No. I told you not to mess with breakfast.”
“I said I improved it, and I wasn’t lying.”
“Adding chocolate chips is not an improvement.”
“In what horrible universe are chocolate chips not an improvement?” Steve asks.
“In my perfect pancake universe.”
“I cannot tell you how disappointed I am that you don’t like chocolate chip pancakes. I feel like this is the end of our affair.”
“Okay, first,” Bucky says. “Stop being so fucking dramatic. Second, I don’t care you’re disappointed, I crave your disappointment. And third, I’m a pancake purist who believes pancakes are perfect on their own and need no adornments.”
“But chocolate, Buck.”
“No, too sweet. Way too sweet. That’s what the maple syrup is for, the really really good maple syrup that I buy from, like, Vermont maple syrup tree elves.”
Steve is smiling at him as he picks out the chocolate chips from the pancake batter.
“Oh my god, you precious baby,” Steve says as he pushes Bucky away from the bowl. “I’ll make the pancakes. I’ll make sure not a single chocolate chip touches your beautiful, too pure pancakes.”
“How?” Bucky asks. “You put in like an entire fucking bag.”
“Not an entire bag. Maybe three-quarters of a bag.”
Bucky grabs the basically empty bag that Steve left abandoned on the counter and looks inside. “Steven, there seven chocolate chips in this bag. That’s nowhere near a quarter left.”
“Well some of them went in my mouth, obviously.”
“I’ll put my fist in your mouth,” Bucky mutters and Steve laughs.
“How about you put your cock in my mouth and we’ll call it even?”
“You better suck me off,” Bucky says. “It’s the least you can do after defiling my pancakes.”
Steve runs his hand over Bucky’s head. “Precious, precious baby. Let Daddy suck your dick and make it all better.”
Steve snorts and hands him a piece of bacon. “Here,” he says as he shoves Bucky down into a chair at the table. “Sit and eat your bacon and shut the fuck up so I can make you pancakes.”
Bucky pretends to be pissed but Steve goes back to the pancake batter as he tells about an article he read about a fucking panda, or some cute shit like that, Bucky’s not even paying attention because he doesn’t need to. The sound of Steve’s voice and the sight of him standing in Bucky’s kitchen, soft and cuddly in Bucky’s clothes, making him breakfast and talking about newspaper articles - because Steve still reads an actual, physical newspaper like an old, old man - is enough. He doesn’t need to know the specifics, he just needs the moment. This quiet, beautiful moment on a snowy Saturday morning with the man he loves.
When Steve finishes pouring the batter onto the griddle Bucky had heating up he looks over his shoulder at Bucky.
“Need another piece of bacon to —” he starts to ask but he must see the softness in Bucky’s face because something changes in his. His eyes go dark, a deeper blue somehow, and he moves the three steps it takes to get him to Bucky’s chair and into his lap, his legs straddling him. His fingers dig themselves in Bucky’s hair and he kisses him so deep, so sweet Bucky wants to laugh and tell him it’s like chocolate chips, but maybe cry too because the taste of Steve in his mouth is too much. Too —
A breathless, startled noise escapes Bucky’s mouth and Steve pulls back, his lips wet and red, his eyes surprised.
“Bucky,” he whispers, his voice low in that way that makes hot, shivery prickles run up and down Bucky’s spine and up over the back of his head.
Bucky’s hands are twisted up tight in the frayed hem of his sweater and he kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth.
“Your pancakes will burn,” he says quietly, even though he doesn’t give a fuck in the slightest.
“Yeah, okay,” Steve says as he slowly slides off of Bucky’s lap and goes back to the stove.
Bucky licks his lips, gets that last taste of Steve, and watches him flip the pancakes.
If he makes it through this weekend alive he deserves a fucking medal.
After they finish breakfast Steve parks it on the couch to go over some student projects he has to evaluate before the end of the weekend and Bucky tackles calling Natasha. He knows he’ll get an earful but it needs to be done.
“Gird your loins, babe,” Steve says from the couch.
Bucky scowls at him. “Funny. You’re only saying that because you enjoy my loins, otherwise you’d happily throw me to the wolves and laugh the entire time.”
“You make me sound so heartless.”
“Not heartless, just far too amused by Nat for some godforsaken reason.”
“I don’t know what it is, but seeing her pound you into a heap of crying manchild makes me happy.”
“Asshole,” Bucky says, but there’s fondness in his voice.
“Quit delaying by insulting me and call her.”
“And you mind your own fucking business,” Bucky says as he pulls up Nat’s number on his phone. “Go back to your students’ projects and leave me in peace.”
Bucky can see Steve smile, but he doesn’t say another thing and goes back to looking through his papers. He’s actually quite impressed to only see Steve’s shoulders shake with laughter twice as he talks to Nat. Well, talk with Nat might be misleading, more like he’s talked at by Nat. She never raises her voice, she doesn’t need to, just the idea of disappointing her and being the focus of her disdain is enough to make Bucky’s balls shrivel up and drop off. And his nuts are the size of fucking raisins by the end of the phonecall.
Bucky sits in silence for a bit after he ends the call and Steve is quiet as well, for all of fifteen seconds before he starts cracking up.
“Shut up,” Bucky grumbles.
Steve leans his head back and looks over at Bucky. “Is it wrong that it makes me hot when she verbally whips you?”
“Yes. Very wrong.”
Steve just laughs again. “Well, it does.”
“Because you’re a dick. We’ve been over this more than once.”
“We have,” Steve says. “I’m a massive dick.”
He says it so sincerely that Bucky has to laugh, has to get up from his desk and lean over the back of the couch to give him a big, sloppy kiss.
“So what are these about?” He asks as he points at Steve’s papers.
“Project summaries. Just the kids telling me what they’re planning for their senior projects.”
“Please tell me there’s some modern art bullshit in there where a kid puts like a toilet in the middle of an empty room and calls it art.”
“There’s no toilet art.”
“Which isn’t really art.”
“Art is all things, Buck.”
“If you say so, Rogers. I’m still not entirely sure you all aren’t part of a giant, elaborate prank and it all really is just a fucking toilet.”
“Oh, we are, you’re totally right. The entire course of human history and all of our artistic endeavours have been to punk you. We’re all in on it. Every artist ever, every child’s stick figure drawing, all to make you feel like an uncultured, ignorant asshole.”
Bucky nods. “I thought so.”
Steve laughs and reaches back to grab Bucky and pull him over the back of the couch and onto his lap. “You’re an idiot.”
Bucky almost says, ’I know, but you love me anyway,’ but he stops himself because Steve doesn’t, not the way Bucky wants him to, and the awkwardness of him mentioning it probably would have killed him.
“I’m brilliant, actually,” Bucky says as he leans forward until his forehead touches Steve’s. “You’re just pissed I blew your cover.”
Steve smiles, drags his thumb along the curve of Bucky’s jaw. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he says quietly before kissing him.
Bucky lets himself sink down into the kiss, closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders. He loves the way his sweater feels on Steve, the worn fabric soft against the hardness of the muscles underneath. Bucky rubs his hand across the expanse of Steve’s back, the warmth of him sinking into Bucky’s palm.
Before he knows it Steve has turned them both, gotten Bucky underneath him, and they’re lying across the length of the couch, kissing, and Steve’s acting like he’s not planning on letting go of Bucky anytime soon. Bucky gets his hands up under the sweater, on the small of Steve’s back, and he’s even warmer without the fabric between them. His skin is almost hot to the touch, but so smooth, and Bucky digs his fingers into it, wanting to mark Steve in some way, no matter how small.
He wonders if Steve ever notices.
They get rough with each other sometimes. There are times when Steve brings Bucky’s hands to his neck, needy and begging Bucky to tighten his fingers, hold on until he gasps and stops for just a moment, just that little bit of too far. Bucky has left little spots of bruises sometimes and he thinks about them almost obsessively; does Steve look at them in the mirror, touch them, does he have to explain them away to people? Or are they fleeting things, nuisances he has to deal with if he wants that gorgeous, desperate orgasm they bring. There are always too many days in between Steve’s visits and the bruises are never there when he comes back, never there for Bucky to kiss, trace with his fingertips, to press just that little bit too hard to bring back the ache of them.
Does Steve notice those things at all?
Sometimes Bucky doesn’t know if he does those things to Steve because they turn him on in the moment, or the aftermath when he can look at Steve and say, there, I was there, and for just a moment you were mine. Or maybe it’s both all tangled up and tied up together, just another piece of the mess of Bucky’s feelings for Steve.
Bucky doesn’t know, only digs his fingers in harder until Steve moans into his mouth, presses his hips down. He lets himself forget everything until it’s only Steve, the weight of him holding Bucky down.
And that’s all there is, endless kisses, the both of them too lazy to do anything more than slowly move against one another, boneless and warm. The morning still cold and the snow coming down muffling all the outside noises Bucky usually hears on a Saturday morning, but Steve’s hands are on Bucky’s face, keeping him in place for his kisses, and Bucky’s fine with doing just this forever.
He hasn’t made out like this since he was in high school, he thinks, trying to make it never-ending because he knew that was all the further he was going to get. Kissing until his lips are numb, tingling with it. It’s like that now with Steve, Bucky’s not hard, that’s not where they’re going, but his cock is heavy with the beginnings of a dull ache of more, and he can feel Steve’s the same; hot against his hip. But they’re both fine as they are; lips never breaking apart, hands seemingly unable to touch all the parts on the other they want to so they’re always moving, always reaching for more.
The rest of the morning gets away from them that way and when Bucky’s neighbor slams his door and brings them out of their haze they look at one another and laugh. Steve’s eyes are glazed, his hair all over the place from Bucky’s fingers dragging through it, and Bucky knows he’s just as bad.
“Your face,” Steve says inanely, his voice groggy and low.
Bucky quietly laughs out a, “What?”
“I don’t even know,” Steve says as he smiles and lets his head drop down onto Bucky’s shoulder.
Bucky kisses the top of his head and hooks his leg over Steve’s hip, cuddles him into his side until he’s tucked between the back of the couch and Bucky. Steve makes little hums of appreciation and Bucky’s pretty sure he’s about thirty seconds away from falling asleep, but Bucky doesn’t say a thing because he’s not far behind.
Bucky wakes up to Steve mumbling against his chest.
“Gotta piss, babe. Lemme go.”
Bucky gets both eyes open and slowly rolls away from Steve, stretching out his arms and legs as he does so. He has no idea how long they’ve been out but he has that heavy feeling of having fallen hard and fast into a deep sleep.
“Who knew waking up with you involved so much talk about pissing,” Bucky says.
“Hmm, kinky,” Steve says as he rolls himself over the top of Bucky and off the couch.
“No, gross. Gross is the word you’re looking for.”
Bucky can hear Steve shuffle into the bathroom and not even bother to close the door behind him.
“You mean you wouldn’t piss on me if I asked you to?” Steve’s voice floats out of the bathroom, only slightly louder than the sound of him pissing.
“Not even if you were on fire. And you know,” Bucky says as he sits up. “We’re not at the point where we can leave the bathroom door open.”
“Oh my god, I’m only pissing.”
“Keep the mystery alive, Steven. Keep it alive.”
The sink turns on as Steve washes his hands and then he’s back out in the main room. He doesn’t come back to the couch right away so Bucky looks back at him. He’s standing by Bucky’s desk looking at the stack of papers that are his most recent manuscript. The pages he should be going over and editing right now if he wants to avoid the Wrath of Natasha. Steve reaches out and touches the corner of the pile and smiles to himself.
“Is this the new book?” He asks as he turns away from it to look at Bucky.
“Yeah. It’s fucking filled with Nat’s notes and edits and I should be working on it but, well, kissing and shit.”
“Kissing and shit, glad to hear it had an impact,” Steve says.
“Oh, believe me, it had an impact. If you hadn’t been so warm and cuddly and lazy making I’da had my dick in you.”
Steve bursts out laughing. “Smooth, Barnes.”
“Well, I woulda.”
“Your dick all up in me?”
Steve is grinning so hard that Bucky can’t help himself.
“Oh yeah, all up in that ass.”
“I think I have a negative boner right now.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know.” Steve shrugs. “But I’ve got it. You’ve made it happen.”
“Wow, impressive on my part then,” Bucky says as he gets up off the couch.
He’s dying of thirst and heads into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He gets one for Steve too and walks it over to him. He’s still at Bucky’s desk looking down at the manuscript like it’s some sort of magical thing.
“Here,” Bucky says and hands over the glass.
Steve thanks him and takes a drink. He looks like he wants to say something but isn’t for some reason.
“Nothing.” Steve shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Seriously, spill it.”
Steve looks at Bucky, bites his bottom lip. “I was just— I was wondering if I could read it, maybe? If that’s not a thing you do that’s fine too. I mean no pressure or anything. Or is it not allowed? Are you not allowed to let people read it until it comes out?”
“Oh my god, you idiot, of course people can read it. And yes, that includes you,” Bucky says. “I’d love for you to read it, actually. You’re a set of fresh eyes and you can hopefully confirm that every word I wrote was a perfect fucking jewel and that all of Nat’s edits and suggestions are, in fact, bullshit like I’ve been telling her all along.”
“I hate to tell you, but I pretty much agree with Natasha on all things,” Steve says as he picks up the manuscript.
“Only because you think she’ll cut you if you don’t.”
“I don’t think, I know.”
“I love this image of Nat you have in your head.”
“Well if you’d have bothered to introduce us in person I wouldn’t have to let my imagination be my guide,” Steve says. “Talking to her on the phone when you can’t be assed to answer it doesn’t count.”
“Oh my god, shut up and go read,” Bucky says. He’s not sure how he feels about what Steve said though. He’s never even considered introducing Steve to Natasha, but obviously Steve has. Bucky didn’t think that’s what you do with your, god he hates the term, but fuck buddy is the only way he can describe what Steve is to him in the basest sense, and that’s not a person you introduce to your friends and surly, frightening editor.
If he had known Steve wanted that he would have, happily. He wants to introduce Steve to everyone, show him off, say look at this amazing fucking human being who wants to spend even the smallest part of his life with me. They joke, call each other names, but Bucky thinks Steve is brilliant, and gorgeous, and his friends and family would love him. Bucky considers having Steve in his life, knowing Steve, to be one of the greatest gifts he’s ever been given, of course he’d share that with everyone else he loves.
The whole situation is fucked. Bucky doesn’t know what the rules are, where the boundaries should be with the two of them. There’s always been definite lines before Steve. He knew when he was in a relationship and when he wasn’t, when it was just sex, because he never loved those people like he loves Steve and now everything is blurred, unknown.
Bucky sits down at his desk and opens up his laptop. He’s already made notes on his file about Nat’s edits and he decides to work on them while Steve reads. He can also look over and keep an eye on Steve reading without him really knowing it since the back of the couch is facing his desk. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to gain out of it, it’s not like he can read the back of Steve’s fucking head, but he keeps looking over anyway.
Steve is one of those weirdos who can read at an unholy speed. He’s not exactly a speed-reader but he can devour pages like crazy. Bucky thinks it’s probably from grading student essays for the last five years and having to figure out a way to wade through piles of shit to get to the grade of about a thousand papers every semester. He knows Steve won’t be able to finish the entire book any time soon, but he’ll finish a good chunk of it.
When Bucky looks over he sees that Steve has slumped down and laid himself out on the couch and he can no longer see the back of his head. He decides to interrupt him.
“Not that I expect you to have read them or anything, but that book is a planned prequel to my last series. I dunno, my readers seemed to really like it and were always mentioning wanting a prequel, and I had an idea, so I went for it. It’s not necessary to have read the other series though, in case you were worried or anything.”
Bucky has no idea why he’s rambling, Steve knows what he writes, they’ve talked about it from time to time, but Steve’s been really fucking quiet for a really fucking long time and Bucky somehow feels like that means he hates it.
Steve sits up and looks over the back of the couch at Bucky. “Of course I’ve read your last series. I’ve read all of your books.”
“Jesus Christ, Buck, yes. We’re fucking, do you think I wouldn’t read your books?”
Bucky leans back in his chair and stares at Steve. “Well just because we play with each other’s dicks doesn’t obligate you to read my books.”
Steve opens his mouth and Bucky knows there’s an insult coming at him just from the way he’s looking at him, but then he stops and looks at Bucky.
“I read everything you write because you’re a brilliant writer and I love the way you tell stories. I love the way your mind works, you’re fucking fascinating to me. So, no, I don’t feel obligated because you play with my dick, I do it because I want to.”
“Oh. Okay then. Thanks.”
Bucky doesn’t know how else to respond to that even though he sounds like a moron and ‘thanks’ isn’t nearly good enough.
“You’re welcome,” Steve says before flopping back down on the couch and continuing reading.
“I’m gonna go make some lunch, I’m starving. Sandwiches okay with you?” Bucky asks as he gets up and heads into the kitchen.
A few minutes later Bucky comes back to the couch with two plates in hand filled with giant pastrami on rye sandwiches and piles of chips and pickles.
“Move your ass, Rogers,” he says as he sets the plates down on the coffee table. “Whadya want to drink?”
Steve sits up and makes a grab for his sandwich. By the time Bucky comes back with two glasses of water Steve’s mouth is already filled with his second bite and nearly half his sandwich is gone.
“Jesus. Were you a little hungry?”
“I was, yeah, but this sandwich is fucking phenomenal,” Steve says through a mouthful of said sandwich, it’s really gross but kind of adorable too with the chipmunk cheeks and all.
“Have you never had a sandwich before?”
Steve ignores him. “Oh my god, this bread. Where’d you get it? I need to buy like twenty loaves of it.”
“I, uh, made it?”
“You made it? Fuck me,” Steve’s voices draws out the ‘fuck’ and sounds nearly orgasmic. “Marry me. Seriously. Marry me and make me bread forever and ever until I die fat and filled with bread.”
“That’s the most romantic proposal I’ve ever heard so obviously I’m going to take it seriously and say yes.”
Steve finishes his bite and grins at him. “I feel like the mouthful of food and the bread crumbs falling out of my mouth as I asked was what really sealed the deal.”
“They definitely didn’t hurt.”
Steve shoves at Bucky’s shoulder with his own and laughs, and Bucky doesn’t say he’d say yes even if Steve asked him while drooling all over him.
“How did I not know about this though? You cook, you bake, and are really fucking good at both. You’re some sort of wizard.”
“Obviously, because it takes a wizard to read a recipe and follow it.”
“I dunno,” Steve says. “I try it all the time and it never works. I still say it’s wizard skills.”
“I always knew my letter from Hogwarts got lost in the mail.”
Steve reaches over and rubs Bucky’s back, leans in and kisses him on the cheek. “Poor baby,” he mumbles against his skin. Bucky turns into Steve, into the kiss, and Steve sighs against his lips. Bucky gets his hand on Steve’s neck to tug him closer and soon they’re sunk back into the couch and all but in each other’s laps as they kiss.
“You drive me fucking crazy, Buck.” Steve’s breath huffs across Bucky’s mouth. “I could kiss you forever and never stop.” Steve’s hand is slid up under Bucky’s shirt, his palm pressed against Bucky’s stomach holding him in place.
That familiar, prickly heat runs up Bucky’s spine. “God, me too.”
They end up making out again until Bucky starts laughing and Steve pulls back to look at him.
“I know you really like this whole kissing thing but you’re thinking about your sandwich, aren’t you?”
“I am, not gonna lie. I totally am.” Steve looks so fucking sheepish that Bucky just keeps laughing at him as he pushes him away.
“Go. Finish eating. We’ve got the whole afternoon to make out like our parents are about to come downstairs and catch us at any minute.”
“Mmm. Hot,” Steve mumbles, his mouth already full of food again.
“The things you find hot are troubling to me, I’ve gotta say.”
Steve’s too busy stuffing his face to respond so Bucky just goes back to his own food, his heart full in this random, perfect moment.
They spend the rest of the afternoon working in companionable silence; Bucky working on his edits and Steve reading his manuscript. Steve does take a couple of minutes out of his reading to give his mom a call. When he tells her he’s going to spend the rest of the weekend at Bucky’s she must have something to say because Steve is quiet for quite a while and when Bucky looks over at him he’s flushed, cheeks pink. Steve looks up and catches Bucky watching him so he looks away quickly but Bucky still hears Steve quietly say, ’I will,’ before hanging up the phone.
“Your mom okay with you not going out to see her at all this weekend?” Bucky asks.
Steve’s still staring thoughtfully at his phone and must not hear him because he doesn’t answer until Bucky says his name. He looks up and says, “Huh?”
“Your ma? She okay with you not visiting her this weekend?”
“Oh yeah, she’s fine. She thinks it’s silly I visit her every weekend anyway. She thinks I’m mother-henning her.”
“You know she really loves it though.”
“I know.” Steve smiles. “She just needs to give me grief. She hates being babied, especially since she’s well now.”
“Thank god,” Bucky says. “I know how much you worried about her.”
Steve nods. “I was a bit crazy for a while there, but I can’t help it. She’s all I’ve got.”
Oh god, Bucky thinks. Does he really think that? He’s got me, he’s got to know that.
“You know that’s not true.” Bucky’s voice is the tiniest bit choked. “She’s not all you’ve got.”
Steve looks at him, stares, really, and Bucky feels himself crumbling under the gaze. He feels like Steve is looking straight down into his guts and sees everything, all the desperate, frantic love Bucky has for him.
“I really hope so. Sometimes I think I do, that I have more, but sometimes I don’t know.” Steve stops and looks at Bucky, the moment feels heavy and strange. Bucky thinks Steve is waiting for him to say something but he’s not sure what. “I want more,” he continues after Bucky says nothing at all. “But most of the time I feel like I’m just being selfish, wanting more. I should be happy with what I have, because it’s beautiful, really fucking beautiful. But god I want more anyway.”
“It’s not selfish to want more,” Bucky says.
“Do you want more?” Steve asks.
“Of course I do.” Bucky feels his throat constricting as he says it.
Steve still has Bucky’s manuscript in his lap and he’s looking down at it, running his fingers over the page he’s on.
“In your book,” he says, “they have that conversation at the reunion—”
Bucky knows exactly what scene Steve is talking about before he even says it and he’s scared of what Steve is going to say about it.
“The one where Eleanor says she’ll only love once? That she feels like she can love other people along the way, be content and happy, but that there’s only one person who she’ll truly love? Her other half?”
“Do you— Do you feel the same way? Is that you speaking through her?”
Bucky has to look away from Steve because he’s looking at him like his answer is the most important thing in the world to him.
“I dunno, maybe?” He answers truthfully. “Maybe a little. I feel like I could fall in love with more than one person in my life but I feel like it would be a safe, quiet kind of love, one that would bring me happiness but never one that would make me burn. I don’t think that’s a bad kind of love but I think for me I know that there’s only one person I’ll ever love in that burning way. There’s only one person I’ll ever let consume me. Only one person who can truly lock into and fill all my missing pieces.”
“Oh.” Steve’s voice is quiet, Bucky almost doesn’t hear him, and even in that small ‘oh’ it sounds as if Bucky has answered his question the wrong way. It breaks Bucky’s heart because he doesn’t know what Steve’s asking for, what he wants, because he’ll give it to him, willingly.
“But what if that person doesn’t love you back?” Steve asks. “What if you feel all of that for him, or her, all that fire, and then they just, they just don’t? Do you just go without? Is all of that love for nothing then?”
“No, not for nothing.” Bucky makes it a point to keep his eyes on Steve even though he’s not looking back at him. “I’ll still love him. I’ll have that love inside of me.”
Steve finally looks up at him. “But it seems like such a waste, to have that inside of you, so beautiful and wretched at the same time, and to never be able to give it to the person it was meant for. You’ll be alone with that burning you from the inside out, killing you. It’ll kill you and it’ll be such a waste.”
Steve sounds angry, the word ‘waste’ all but spat out.
“But it won’t be a waste,” Bucky says. “I’ll have felt it, I’ll have had that love.”
“Only to have it rot away inside you.”
Bucky raises his hands, lets them drop into his lap. He doesn’t know what to say other than what he’s already said.
“You asked,” he says. “That’s how I feel.”
“I know,” Steve says. “But I hate the idea that someone like you would go without love because you think it’s only a one time chance. What if you never meet?”
“I could still love someone, I just won’t get the chance to love him.”
“You should though. You should get the chance to love whoever you were meant to, and to be loved twice as much in return.”
“Well no one ever agrees on love, do they?” Bucky asks. “That’s why we all still write and talk and sing and paint about it over and over and over again.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if your views on love are romantic or damaged,” Steve says.
“Probably a bit of both, leaning more towards the damaged side of things.”
Steve snorts a little at that. “You’re damaged alright.”
“The most interesting ones always are.”
Steve rolls his eyes at him and goes back to the manuscript. Bucky lets him read for a minute or two before asking,
“Do you like it though? Despite the disgruntled anger over Eleanor’s stunted and damaged views on love.”
“I do,” Steve says.
And that’s enough for Bucky right now, the weight of expectation lifted off of him. He goes back to work on his laptop and he almost doesn’t hear Steve’s quiet words a few minutes later.
“I love it.”
Steve moves his ass off the couch and onto Bucky’s window seat toward the middle of the afternoon. Bucky looks up at him just as he sets the manuscript aside and starts looking out the window.
“We should go out,” he says.
Bucky grins. “Wanna go play in the snow?”
Steve looks over at him and grins back. “Kinda. Yeah.”
“Oh my god, go get your stuff on. I’m so fucking sick of editing right now. I need to shove your face in a snowbank.”
“Not if I shove yours first,” Steve says as he folds back a page to keep his place and bolts off the window seat to the front door where his outside gear is hanging up on hooks.
Bucky rolls his eyes at the way Steve runs for the door like a big, happy puppy. He’s slower to get up and get his stuff and by the time he’s done Steve is all but bouncing at the door.
“You’re such a nerd,” he says.
“I know, and I don’t care. Let’s get outside.”
Steve takes off running down the hall, obviously heading for the stairwell instead of the elevator.
“Can’t you wait for the elevator?” Bucky shouts at his back.
All he hears is a faint, ‘No!’ as the door to the stairs closes on Steve. Bucky decides to wait for the elevator like a normal adult human being. He fully expects to get a snowball to the face once he gets down to the street but he also knows that Steve will be so busy laughing and thinking he’s fucking got one over on Bucky that he’ll have time to toss Steve’s smug ass into the nearest pile of snow.
And he’s not wrong, the second he steps out the front door of his building he gets smacked in the face by a giant snowball. Steve’s still laughing by the time Bucky wipes the snow from his face and it gives him just the opportunity he was expecting. He runs full out at Steve and tackles him into a pile of snow that’s accumulated between two parked cars. Steve goes down like a fucking brick and lets out a loud grunt.
“Gotcha,” Bucky says as he smiles down at Steve.
Steve hooks his ankles around the backs of Bucky’s thighs. “Worth it,” he says, and before Bucky can say a thing Steve shoves a handful of snow in his face. He grinds it in really good and Bucky feels half of it sliding down his neck and into the collar of his coat.
“Oh my god, you dickbag! That went down my neck. Sonofabitch!”
After that it’s all out war. There’s not a car driving on the unplowed street and the two of them chase each other up and down the block, shouting at one another and getting shouted at as well by people calling down from their apartments telling them to shut the fuck up. The second time it happens Steve stops, looks up at the floor the shout is coming from and yells back, “Fuck you! I do what I want!” Bucky is damn near dying laughing at him and Steve is able to tackle him from the side and send him flying, yelling at the top of his lungs the entire time.
“Oh god,” Bucky groans from underneath Steve’s bulk. “Someone is going to come down and beat us up.”
Steve is laughing in Bucky’s ear, his nose is freezing where it’s pushed into the side of Bucky’s head and it makes him shiver. “Don’t worry,” Steve says, breath hot across Bucky’s cheek. “I’ll protect you.”
Bucky snorts. “You sure as fuck better, you’re the one with the mouth who’s gonna get us in trouble.”
Bucky can feel Steve smiling, still quietly laughing, and he looks up at the sky, blinking against the fluff of snow still coming down and he’s freezing his goddamn ass off but he’s so fucking happy. So fucking happy. And then Steve wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist and his heart almost beats out of his chest.
“It’s crazy beautiful and surreal out here,” Steve says.
“Surreal how?” Bucky asks. “You mean you don’t normally lie around in the middle of the street in Brooklyn?”
“Well, I do, but usually I’m getting honked at and told I’m a fucking fuck who should get the fuck out of the fucking road for fucksake.”
“Hm. Sounds about right.”
Steve is mouthing at Bucky’s neck and he doesn’t want to stop him but he’s literally going to freeze his balls off if they keep lying there in the snow.
“Unless you want to deal with an actual case of my blue balls we need to take this inside,” Bucky says.
Steve gets up on his knees but he keeps them on either side of Bucky and he’s still got him trapped on his back. “Are you saying you need your balls warmed?” Steve asks, smiling down at him like a moron. “I can absolutely help you with that.”
“Smooth, Rogers. Real smooth.”
“Can’t help it, babe,” Steve says as he gets to his feet and offers Bucky an arm up. “Your balls are bangin’.”
“Yeah, okay, cancel the previous smooth and apply it to that line. Your balls are bangin’? Jesus fuck, how have you ever gotten laid in your life?”
“It’s a mystery,” Steve says and he grabs Bucky’s hand as they start to walk back to Bucky’s apartment building.
That’s the third time Steve’s called him ‘babe’ this weekend and he’s not sure what that means. Is it just a thing he does with everyone and he just doesn’t know he’s doing it, or is it just for Bucky?
When they get back upstairs Steve kicks off his boots and turns to pull Bucky’s hat off of his head. Bucky smiles at Steve as he unzips his coat too.
“Can’t wait to get to my bangin’ balls, huh?”
Steve just slides a thigh between Bucky’s legs and presses closer, slips Bucky’s coat down his arms. “Maybe.” He shrugs.
Bucky reaches up and pulls Steve’s hat off for him, kisses his cold earlobe. Steve’s mouth is at the base of Bucky’s throat and he shivers.
“Cold?” Steve asks.
Steve kisses along Bucky’s throat, across his jawline, and wraps his arms around him. “You’re like ice,” he says and it’s only then that Bucky realizes just how cold he is. Now that they’re inside the cold and wet are seeping into him and all he wants is to be in Steve’s arms soaking up the heat of him. “Gonna warm you up.”
Bucky would tease him about saying that but Steve’s tone is quiet, sincere, and his touch is gentle as he cards his hand through Bucky’s hair, runs his fingers along his skin. He takes his time getting Bucky out of his clothes and then Bucky does the same for him. Steve starts walking them both toward the bathroom, Bucky’s arms are holding onto Steve and his skin is cold but Bucky can feel the heat rising up through it wherever they touch.
Once they’re in the bathroom Steve gets the shower running nice and warm, gets Bucky and himself under the spray. Bucky closes his eyes against the water and the feel of Steve’s hands on him; rubbing up and down his arms, carefully soaping his skin. Bucky can’t get over how gentle, how careful Steve’s hands are, like Bucky is something precious. When he opens his eyes he finds Steve’s gaze focused on the curve of his neck, and then he feels Steve’s fingers press against the spot that’s holding his attention.
“This freckle,” he says quietly. “You can barely see it, but it drives me crazy. Did you know that?”
All Bucky can do is shake his head, no, no of course he didn’t know that.
“I have to kiss it every time I see you, touch it like it’s some sort of touchstone. I think.” Steve stops for a second as his finger lightly traces around it. “I think it’s how I prove to myself you’re real.”
Bucky touches Steve’s lower lip. “I’m real. I’m here.”
“You don’t always seem real to me. Sometimes I look at you and I wonder.”
Bucky grabs Steve by the back of his head and pulls him in for a kiss, makes it deep, certain, to prove to him that they’re real, the both of them, and they’re here together. He wants to tell Steve that he feels like they were always meant to be this way, each other’s proof.
Steve pushes him back against the shower wall, his hands sliding all over him. He moans into Steve’s mouth when one of his hands grabs onto his ass, fingers slipping down to tease at him.
“Do you know how much I want you?” Steve asks.
“I always want you. All the time.”
It’s the closest Bucky’s ever gotten to saying ‘I love you’ to Steve. All that he’s dared, but there’s something different to this weekend, Steve’s different, and everything feels weighted. Bucky is filled with maybe’s right now. Maybe he can tell Steve. Maybe he feels the same. Maybe this can be more than a weekend.
Maybe he can be brave and ask it to be.
Bucky turns them until Steve is under the spray of the shower, he digs his fingers into Steve’s hair and pulls his head back so he can get to his neck to mouth and bite along it. “I’m going to get you back to my bed,” Bucky says, “and I’m going get my mouth on you, eat you out ‘til you’re crying with it. Begging me. You’re gonna beg me, Steve.”
Steve’s hips jerk against his, and he gasps when Bucky bites down particularly hard at the spot where his neck curves into his shoulder. “Do it.” Steve’s voice is breathless, barely getting out the words. “Make me beg.”
Bucky fumbles at the shower knob to turn it off as Steve is already dragging him out of the shower. The water is running in rivulets over Steve’s chest and Bucky licks a path from nipple to nipple, biting down lightly once he gets to the other one. He wants to bite every inch of Steve, a feeble attempt at devouring him and keeping him inside him forever; in his guts, in his blood.
It’s fucking freezing once they leave the steamy heat of the bathroom but everywhere Bucky touches Steve his skin scorches. Steve’s burning him alive. He almost laughs at it; the crazy thoughts coursing through his mind.
Steve pushes him against the wall outside of his bedroom to kiss him, Bucky thrills at it; their matching hunger for one another. He digs his fingers into Steve’s arm and waist, pulls him into the bedroom so he can get him on his stomach and get his mouth on that gorgeous ass.
Hands slip on still wet skin but Bucky manages to drag Steve to the bed, mouth never leaving his.
“On your stomach,” Bucky says as he pushes Steve onto the bed. “Let me get at that ass.”
Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, he scrambles onto the bed, hitching his hips and raising his ass up in the air, his hands fisting the duvet in anticipation. Bucky kneels behind him, between his legs, and runs his hands up the backs of Steve’s thick thighs. He gets his hands on the globes of Steve’s ass, squeezing it, spreading the cheeks apart, touching a finger to the hole and making Steve push back against him. It’s the smallest movement of his hips but Bucky feels it and he gives Steve’s ass a quick, sharp smack.
Steve hisses at the slap but gives a contented humming sound after. Bucky knows Steve, knows just how far he can take it with him, and this isn’t even close. But he’s not interested in pushing at him in that way today, that’s not the kind of breakdown he’s after. Yes he wants to toy with Steve, draw out the pleasure for as long as he can, but he doesn’t want there to be any fight in it, just a slow, slow giving in. A release of everything that’s between them right now. He wants this moment to push them in a new direction.
He kisses across the curve of Steve’s ass, pulls apart his cheeks to get at his hole. He lightly traces his finger around the tight ring, breathes across it and watches as Steve clenches at the brush of warmth.
“I know,” Bucky says. “I know, sweetheart. You want my mouth on you, but you’re so fucking pretty I gotta look first. Gotta touch it just a little bit.
Steve whispers, “Goddamn you,” as he drags a leg up, bends at the knee and pushes back against Bucky.
Bucky takes that as his cue to lean in and run his tongue around the hole; light, teasing licks. He takes his time, kisses and licks as he holds Steve’s cheeks apart. He wants to fuck Steve with his tongue, wants to bite at him and get him so worked up he cries. He’s brought Steve to tears before, but never this way and god does he want to. Steve’s so fucking beautiful when he cries, so perfect in his letting go.
Steve’s already whimpering from the teasing alone, and when Bucky finally slips just the tip of his finger inside him to get him ready, open him up a bit, a full body shudder goes through him. Bucky keeps at him; slowly, slowly working him open with a finger, then with his tongue too until it’s just his tongue fucking at Steve’s hole, face down in that glorious ass. Steve’s pushing his hips against the bed, rubbing his dick against the duvet trying to relieve some of the pressure, but Bucky reaches up and grabs his hips, stops him.
“No,” he says, breathless as he takes his mouth off of Steve’s ass. “Just my tongue, my mouth. That’s all that’s gonna make you come first.”
He looks up at the expanse of Steve’s back, he’s got his arm tucked up under him and his face pressed into the bed so Bucky can’t see his face but there’s a blush coloring the back of his neck, his shoulders, sweat’s starting to trickle down the dip of his spine. He knows he’s dragging this out and that he’s driving Steve crazy, but god, that’s exactly what he wants.
“I’m gonna make you come so many times tonight, sweetheart. So many times. Until you can’t, until you tell me to stop because you can’t take any more.”
Bucky carefully kisses Steve’s hole, gentle, barely there, then looks down between Steve’s spread thighs, sees the way his cock is pressed into the bed, his balls tight. When he nips at the back of Steve’s balls his hips jerk so fiercely Bucky’s not able to hold them all the way down.
“You’re so ready, aren’t you?” He asks, his hands tightening on Steve’s hips, pressing them back down.
He gets his mouth back on Steve’s hole and fucks his tongue into him, pushes two fingers in along with it and Steve cries out so loudly, shakes so hard beneath him that it just makes Bucky fuck him faster, push him through his orgasm. He reaches down and feels the come wet around Steve’s cock and he smiles in satisfaction.
“That’s one,” he says, breath hot on Steve’s skin. “How many more?” He wonders as he watches the tight ring tremble with the aftershock of Steve’s orgasm. He idly runs a finger around the rim, pushes in and out to make Steve moan.
Bucky goes back to work, he’s determined to draw out everything Steve will give him. He wants him coming over and over again. He doesn’t know how long he spends licking at him, kissing him, and fucking into him; his tongue, his fingers, and god he wants to get his dick inside him too, but only when he’s at that breaking point.
He says everything to him that comes to his mind and it never fails to make Steve shiver, make him moan, and it’s a fucking amazing power to bring those noises and shivers out of him. He keeps biting at him, working him so loose and open that when he gets his cock in him he’ll slip right in all snug and at home. His jaw aches with it but he keeps on through two more of Steve’s orgasms, twice more hearing those shattered cries, seeing the mess on the duvet beneath them get bigger and bigger. Steve’s wet with sweat, flushed so pink and sweet, and he can’t hold still to save his life; fucking his hips into the bed, squirming and curling in on himself when he’s oh so close. And the whimpers, oh christ, those fucking gorgeous whimpers. Bucky’s so damn hard it hurts, hurts so fucking bad, but he’s gonna come in that ass and nowhere else.
Just as Bucky feels Steve’s asshole start to tremble, start to tighten up on him again, Steve finally begs.
Steve’s voice is so choked up Bucky barely hears him so he crawls up Steve’s body, his mouth dragging along his spine until it’s at the back of his neck, then behind his ear. “What, sweetheart?” He whispers. “Tell me what you want. You know I’ll give you anything.” He looks down at Steve’s profile, sees the tear tracks, kisses them as they trail over the bridge of his nose, and down his cheek to his mouth.
“Fuck me. God. Bucky, I need it. Please.”
“You’re so goddamn pretty like this.” Bucky kisses more of Steve’s face, his temple, along his hairline. “I can barely stand to look you. You burn my eyes, sweetheart.”
Steve lets out a choked sounding sob, grabs for Bucky’s hand so quickly it shocks him, holds on so tight. “Baby, please.” And he tugs at Bucky, just mindlessly repeats ‘please’ over and over again.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Bucky says as he pulls away just enough to reach out for his bedside table, the lube and condoms scattered there from the day before. “I’ll take care of you, give it to you so nice and sweet.”
He has to free his hand from Steve’s grip to get the condom on and it’s a fight, Steve not wanting to let go of him. He finally does and when he sinks down into him Steve starts sobbing in earnest, so overwhelmed, and Bucky is the same. He’s lying on top of Steve and they’re both shaking and he knows he could fucking come that very second but doesn’t want to shoot off like a fucking teenager so he rocks his hips nice and slow, just barely moving inside of Steve.
Steve’s saying his name and other words Bucky can’t make out, nonsense sounds and words, out of his head at this point. Bucky mouths at his neck, holds him around his shoulders as he fucks into him. He’s never felt this, never felt what it was like to actually feel like he was alive and breathing inside another person. He feels like he’s fucking dissolved into Steve, he’s inside him breathing with his lungs, pumping blood with his heart, and he’s so fully in love with him, so desperately and frighteningly in love with him that the tears are hot in his eyes just waiting to spill over. He grips Steve so hard with his fingers he’s scared he’s hurting him but he needs to latch onto him, claw into him until nothing Steve does will ever shake him free. He’s holding on for dear fucking life and it’s all too much. Too much.
The release is actually painful; he doesn’t want it, he wants to stay inside Steve forever, he wants everything else in the goddamn world to disappear and leave them alone, an apocalypse unto themselves. But his body can’t take it anymore, and neither can Steve because he’s not far behind, shaking and crying with it, so overwhelmed and wrung out. All Bucky can do is clamp his body down around him and hold on as tight as he can.
Steve curls up into himself, brings Bucky with him, as he comes down. Bucky keeps a hold on him, runs his hands over him as gently, carefully as he can, whispers ‘sweetheart’ in his ear. He wants to clean Steve up, take care of him, tuck him into bed, but he knows Steve needs this part more right now. He needs to be petted and calmed down as fierce shivering shudders course through him every couple of minutes. Bucky waits until they become further and further apart, waits for them to be gone as he whispers a story in Steve’s ear until he comes back to him, until he turns in Bucky’s arms and looks back at him with clear eyes and Bucky can whisper, ‘Hey, you’ instead.
“Hey,” Steve says back, his voice wrecked.
Steve reaches out for him, pushes some hair back behind his ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”
“Good,” Bucky says as he leans down to kiss him. It’s nothing much, just a brief brush of lips, but Steve sighs into it and Bucky presses his forehead to Steve’s. “It’s good to have you back.”
Steve just smiles, kisses Bucky again. Bucky starts to loosen his hold on Steve, starts to pull back, but Steve grabs his wrist and stops him. “Stay.”
“I want to get you cleaned up,” Bucky says. “Gotta take care of you.”
Steve keeps his hold on Bucky. “You’re so good to me.”
“You’re easy to be good to.”
“I wanna take care of you too.”
“Next time, I promise,” Bucky says as he kisses Steve’s forehead and gets his wrist out of Steve’s grip. “I’ll be right back.”
Bucky picks up the scattered pieces of their discarded clothing as he walks into the bathroom. He dumps them all into the clothes hamper and gets a couple of washcloths to run under some warm water to bring back to the bedroom. When he gets back he has to stand in the doorway for a minute to just take Steve in. He’s a mess, a beautiful fucking mess and Bucky’s heart clenches in his chest.
“I’m back,” he says quietly as he kneels next to Steve on the bed and picks up his arm, starts slowly running the washcloth up and down its length, over each finger, and then back up to his shoulder. He takes his time going over Steve’s neck and other shoulder, down his other arm. He pays special attention to Steve’s face, his eyes closed and lashes fanned out on his cheeks. Bucky knows every nerve-ending is still shooting sparks right below the surface of Steve’s skin and that he should save Steve’s ass and cock for last. Steve still shivers every once in awhile at Bucky’s touch and he still needs a bit more time.
That’s okay with Bucky though because he loves this moment, taking care of Steve when he’s quiet and sated and blissed out. He always teases him later about it being the only time he is quiet, and that it’s a miracle it ever happens at all, but for now he’s taking his time and letting himself enjoy it.
When Bucky has finally cleaned Steve’s stomach, each of his legs, he carefully takes Steve’s cock in his hand and gently runs the washcloth over it. Steve still jumps a bit, makes quiet little noises, but he lets Bucky finish. Bucky nudges at his side, whispers, ‘roll over’ and when Steve gets on his stomach he takes the other washcloth and does his back, the backs of his thighs, and finally his ass. He makes soothing, shushing noises as Steve buries his face in a pillow. When he’s done he starts to get up to bring the washcloths back to the bathroom but Steve stops him, takes the cloths out of his hand and sets them on the bedside table.
“Leave them,” he says. “Lie with me.”
Bucky brushes back Steve’s hair. “Whatever you want.”
“I want you here beside me.”
“Okay, but let’s get you under the covers first.”
Bucky fusses until Steve is tucked into the sheets then crawls in next to him and spoons up behind him. Steve wraps his arms over Bucky’s and says, “There. Now just close your eyes with me for a minute.”
Bucky rubs Steve’s stomach for just a moment, feels him hum in contentment, before he’s out like a light.
Bucky wakes up to the sight of Steve sitting fully dressed in his own clothes on the side of the bed. He’s holding the sweater he’d been wearing earlier in the day in his lap, his hand slowly running back and forth over it.
“Steve?” Bucky asks. He’s confused as fuck; it’s way past dark by now and he has no idea how long he slept, and why is Steve wearing his clothes? Steve should still be naked and in bed beside him.
“I grabbed it out of the hamper,” he says, and it takes Bucky a moment to realize he’s talking about the sweater. “It smells like the both of us now. Before it just smelled like you, it’s why I wore it.”
Bucky sits up and scooches over closer to Steve, wraps his arms around his waist and sets his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “Why’re you dressed?”
Steve doesn’t answer right away, Bucky can feel the rise and fall of his breath against his palm where it rests on his stomach. There’s a tenseness in Steve’s shoulders, and his back is rigid. Bucky knows something’s wrong and he’s not sure he wants to hear it after all.
“I think I should go,” Steve finally says and Bucky flinches.
“What? Why? It’ll take you forever to get back in this snow, they haven’t even cleared the sidewalks yet.”
“I still think I should go.”
Bucky moves away from Steve then, curls in on himself. He draws his legs up and wraps his arms around them making himself as small as possible. He knew it. He knew this would happen. He changed everything between them and now Steve knew, Steve knew and he wanted to leave. He wanted to trudge through two feet of snow just to get away from him.
Steve turns to look at him and he must look as hollow-eyed as he feels because Steve reaches out to him, touches his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you don’t want to hear this. I know you never intended for us to be —” Steve sighs. “For us to be here.”
Bucky grabs Steve’s hand and pulls it to his mouth, kisses it. “Please don’t go. I can shut all of that down, we can go back to what we were.”
Steve looks so fucking miserable, so heartbroken Bucky doesn’t know what to do.
“I know we can,” Steve says. “I know we could rewind and pretend this never happened, but it did. This weekend happened. I ate your stupid pancakes and I read your beautiful fucking book, and I wore this disaster of a sweater because it smelled like you and I couldn’t help myself. I just needed some small piece of you. I thought I could be content with that, but after —” Steve stops and looks at him and Bucky is about ready to slap him because he’s realizing they’re both fucking idiots who’ve gotten every fucking thing wrong they could get wrong.
“Steve, you fucking —” Bucky starts to say just as Steve says:
“I love you.”
“Idiot,” Bucky finishes.
Steve stares at him, stuck somewhere between lost puppy pouring his heart out and pissed the fuck off. Bucky knows he has no idea, so he tells him, he finally fucking tells him.
“I love you too,” Bucky says. “And you’re an idiot, and I’m an idiot, and I think I just fucking proved we’re made for each other.”
“I’ve loved you since, well, I’m not going to say day one because it wasn’t love at first sight or some shit like that. It was ass lust if I’m being completely honest. I mean fuck, your ass is a fucking menace. But yeah, I’m definitely going to say I’ve loved you from day two. I’m going with day two because we fucked and you stayed and talked about art and movies and fucking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for fucksake and then you snorted when you laughed like a complete loser. How was I not supposed to love you after that, you asshole?”
“I can’t believe you told me you loved me for the first time and then called me an asshole.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to here? The fucking pope? I’ve always been classy like this. You fucking love me, you oughta know that.”
Steve is glaring at him and giving him the stink eye, but that stink eye is also suspiciously watery and Bucky just smiles at him. That’s all it takes for Steve to tackle him, full on throw himself into kissing Bucky for all he’s worth, and Bucky’s never been happier in his whole fucking life.
“We’re so stupid though,” Steve says between kisses. “We coulda been having these weekends months and months ago.”
“Yeah, well,” Bucky says, kissing him right back. “If you’d have taken your thumb outta your ass a little sooner —”
Steve stops kissing him and gets up on his elbows so he can look down at Bucky. “Oh my god, seriously? You’re blaming me? You shit! All of this stupid was a team effort, you dick.”
“Go team!” Bucky says as he raises his fist and Steve loses it, throws his head back and laughs that really loud, obnoxious laugh Bucky loves so much.
“Yes, go team,” Steve says when he finally stops laughing.
“You’re team captain, obviously.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not even getting into this. You’re just going to shut the fuck up and make out with me for a while, then make me some food because it’s the middle of the damn night and I’m starving.”
“Okay, first of all it’s 8:30 and if you consider that the middle of the night we’ve got issues, grandpa, and second of all, I’m not your maid so let’s get that clear at the beginning of this.”
“But you’re such a good cook.”
“How is that not relevant? That’s pretty much the most relevant.”
“And third,” Bucky says, ignoring Steve. “Blow me.”
“Later,” Steve mumbles against his mouth before he starts kissing him again, and oh my god the fact that Steve knew to take him seriously makes Bucky want to start singing ‘Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man’ because Salt-N-Pepa and En Vogue are wise oracles.
As they kiss Bucky starts tugging at Steve’s clothes trying to get him out of them.
“You know you’re not going anywhere, right? You’re getting right back into my clothes and staying put.”
“Whatever you say,” Steve says as he kisses at the curve of Bucky’s neck.
Bucky’s got Steve’s shirt unbuttoned and off of him and he’s about to get at his belt when Steve stops him. He pulls away and gets up on his knees, straddling Bucky as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans. “You know,” he says, “this isn’t going anywhere. You pretty much killed my dick before. I don’t think I’ll be able to come again for a week.”
“Compliment taken, because I know there was one in there somewhere.”
Steve laughs and rolls off of Bucky to finish undressing. Bucky watches him as he walks naked over to his dresser to pull out some underwear and pajama pants. He looks fucking good digging through Bucky’s stuff like it’s his own, like he’s home. He doesn’t get out a new shirt though, he picks up the blue sweater from the floor and pulls that on again.
“Sap,” Bucky says, but it’s so fond it’s a little bit embarrassing.
Steve just ducks his head and crawls in next to Bucky again. “I like it.”
Bucky turns on his side so he can look at Steve, can card his fingers through his hair. “I like you in it.”
“God, I love you. So much.”
“I love you too. And I was so scared to tell you,” Bucky says. “Fucking terrified. I was so far gone, so soon, and I wanted so much of you I thought if I ever said anything I’d suffocate you and send you running so I never said a thing. I wanted to take what I could get and I was fucking miserable every time you walked out my door. I was ecstatically happy when you were here, but then you’d leave and I —”
“I hated walking out your door,” Steve interrupts him and takes Bucky’s face in his hands. “It made me fucking miserable too. You’d close your door and I’d stand there in the hallway, lost, and trying not to reach out and beat on the door until you came back to me. I wanted you to open the door and tell me you’d made a mistake and I wasn’t supposed to leave because I was already home.”
Bucky is overwhelmed with love for Steve and he can’t do anything but drag him in for a kiss, and Steve kisses him back like he never wants to stop and Bucky is just fine with that.
“You’re the one, you know,” Bucky says once he breaks the kiss for a second. “In my book, when you were arguing with me.”
Steve laughs, low and deep in his throat and Bucky feels the rush of it against his lips. “I was so damn jealous and angry. All I could think was that you loved someone who wasn’t me, who’d never be me, and I got so pissed.”
“It was really fucking adorable,” Bucky says as he kisses Steve again.
Steve kisses him once, twice, and then smiles and says, “I wouldn’t expect anything different from you.”
Their rumbling stomachs end their make-out session and they end up sitting on the floor in front of the open refrigerator and eating all of the leftovers they can find, too hungry and happy to care what they’re shoving in their mouths. Steve is practically in Bucky’s lap, they can’t stand to stop touching one another, and somehow three day old pizza tastes five-star when fed to him by Steve.
“See, you’re a good cook,” Bucky says around a mouthful of pizza. “You just have to physically feed the food to the people and they’ll eat it right up.”
“I think that only works with you.” Steve laughs.
“Hm, maybe,” Bucky says as he grabs Steve’s legs, pulls him even closer, and Steve wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist. Steve reaches back into the fridge and pulls out a take away container.
“And this would be…?” he asks.
Bucky looks at it. “Pad thai?” he guesses.
“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!” Steve says once he opens it up and looks inside.
“The real question though is whether or not it’s edible.”
Steve digs his fingers in and scoops up a bite. “Eh, tastes good to me.”
“Your discerning palate.”
Steve just smiles and picks up another mouthful, the noodles are all stuck together and Bucky watches as he holds it high above his mouth and lets it drop in. He’s such a pig, and he’s all Bucky’s
“What I don’t get,” Steve says with his mouth still full. “Is why you have so much takeout in your fridge when you’re such a fucking fantastic cook.”
“You’ve only had like three meals made by me, and two of them a monkey could’ve made.”
“I couldn’t have.”
“Yeah, well. Take lessons from the monkey.”
“I’m serious though, your food is amazing.”
“I dunno.” Bucky shrugs. “I don’t always feel like cooking, and besides it really kinda sucks cooking for one.”
Steve looks at him and smiles, runs his thumb along Bucky’s bottom lip. “Well now you’ve got me.”
“I do.” Bucky knows he’s looking back at Steve with the stupidest, sappiest look, but fuck if he cares.
“And I eat enough for at least three, so there’s that.”
“There is.” Bucky leans in for a kiss. “I’m lucky to have you.”
“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”
Bucky wakes up Sunday morning to Steve snoring in his ear. His breath is hot and smells really fucking awful and Bucky is pretty much in heaven.
He’ll take it, he’ll take it all. The flaws, the imperfections, the million billion ridiculous pieces that make up Steve and make him the big, giant idiot he is. Steve is brilliant and surprising and sometimes really fucking awful and it only makes Bucky love him more. Bucky’s never understood the idea of perfection; perfection is fucking boring, it’s the flaws and idiosyncrasies that make things interesting. And Steve has a few doozies, but fuck if it isn’t all amazing.
Bucky turns into Steve’s arms, into that smelly, snoring mouth, and lets himself be happy.
It takes a while for Steve to wake up, and he’s not a graceful riser; he snorts himself awake, he smacks his mouth, he has pillow creases all over his face, and his hair is standing on end except in the places where it’s smashed flat against his head. He’s a disaster.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
Steve groans and snuggles in closer to Bucky, but he can feel him grin against his chest as he croaks out, “I like it when you call me that.”
“Yeah, your uber boner last night was a good indication you did,” Bucky says as he kisses the top of Steve’s head and cards his fingers through his hair.
“Um, I think my uber boner was more a direct result of your face buried in my ass. Which, by the way, congratulations on being a rimming god.”
Bucky laughs out loud and Steve runs his hand down Bucky’s chest and scritches at his stomach.
“Can I get that on a t-shirt?” Bucky asks.
“Babe, you can have it on any damn thing you want. I’ll take out a full page spread in the New York Times.”
“With my picture and phone number?”
“Fuck your number, but definitely with your picture. I want to make sure everyone sees who I bagged, like look at this fucking hot bastard who eats ass like a god, look at him cos I got him.”
“Are you going to add ‘neener, neener, neener’ at the end of it?” Bucky asks.
“You dumb asshole.”
Steve laughs and gets up on his elbow so he can give Bucky a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek before rolling away from him and out of bed.
“Are you running away before I can get you back for that?” Bucky asks as he wipes off his face.
“Nope, I’m going to get my phone.”
“Oh god, please don’t Snapchat this moment.”
Steve frowns. “But how will I know it actually happened if I don’t Snapchat it?”
“Fuck you.” Bucky grins as he rolls over on his side so his back is to Steve.
Bucky can hear Steve cackle as he walks out of the bedroom. There are also some noises out in the living room, something drops and then Steve’s muffled curse, and then his footsteps grow louder until he flops back down into bed on top of Bucky.
“Oh, excuse me,” he says as he rolls really slowly off of Bucky.
“Double fuck you,” Bucky groans. “You’re so fat.”
Steve ignores him and settles on his back next to him.
“I’ve got to call my mom,” he says.
“When we’re in bed on a Sunday morning? There are some things she doesn’t need to know, Steven.”
“No, I promised her I would. Once I told you, and I didn’t last night so —”
“Told her what?” Steve looks over at Bucky and raises an eyebrow. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Steve says. “Remember my call to her yesterday? Well she was chewing me a new asshole because she knew how I felt about you, and for how long, and she was so angry at me for staying the weekend.”
“She didn’t want you to be with me?”
“Only because she thought I was slowly and painfully breaking my own heart, which I was, but I wasn’t going to say that to her.”
Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s left arm and tucks his head into his shoulder. “Steve,” he says quietly.
“But now,” Steve says, “now I get to tell her how happy I am, that my heart’s in safekeeping.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll beat up on your heart a few times along the way though.”
Steve kisses Bucky’s forehead. “I can take it.”
“I promise to do the best I can to take care of it, but I’m not always going to manage it.”
“I promise the same.”
“That’s good,” Bucky says. “I’m glad we’re setting the bar fairly low at the start so we don’t constantly disappoint one another.”
Steve laughs at that. “Only you,” he says as he scrolls through his contact list.
“You’re not going to make me talk to her, are you?” Bucky knows he sounds horrified, because he is. Steve’s mom is the biggest part of Steve’s life, she means everything to him, and if Bucky fucks that up from the get go, and he probably will, well, then he’s screwed.
“God, no,” Steve says. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll ease you into that. I just want you to hear everything I say to her.”
“Thank fuck, I thought I was going to have to cry and hide in the closet.”
Steve gives him a quick kiss as he waits for him mom to answer the phone. Bucky listens as Steve tells his mom that he and Bucky talked, that they’re good; really, really good. He watches as a big grin spreads across Steve’s face and he says he’s never been happier. Steve’s about to hang up but Bucky touches his arm, stops him.
“What?” Steve asks.
“Tell her thank you for me.”
“For you,” Bucky says. “For making and baking you.”
Steve’s smile is something Bucky will never ever forget. Never.
“Oh god, babe, you are so in,” Steve says. “You’re in forever, in fact she’ll probably trade me in for you.”
“Not a chance,” Bucky says.
He knows he’s the winner in this whole deal, and he’s holding on like his life depends on it. And looking at Steve; his goofy smiling face, his sleep rumpled hair, and how stupidly happy he is, well.
Maybe it does.
I had to add the Whatta Man bit because it’s my headcanon that when Bucky gets drunk at karaoke bars he sings Salt-N-Pepa songs to Steve...because you know he totally does, and is scary good at it. Also, once they finally meet, he gets Sam to sing the En Vogue bits.
And it always gives Steve a giant boner.