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Peals of laughter carried down the hallway, loud enough to cut through John’s focus on the thick stack of papers in front of him. Even though it wasn’t his responsibility to wade through the hundreds of mission reports, it was instinctual to offer his help after seeing the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed Bucky’s shoulders down. He sat up and stretched, groaning as nearly every bone in his upper body cracked.
Another loud roar of laughter caught his attention. He stood, rubbing his aching eyes. Stepping out of his room meant everything was louder; he could distinguish Yelena’s cackle, Ava’s snicker, and Bob’s quiet huffs of laughter, along with the clanking of something (probably the bottles of vodka that were poorly hidden in the pantry).
Once he made it to the living room, he was greeted with the sight of Yelena attempting to put both legs behind her head with Ava standing behind her, and Bob looking shell-shocked across the room.
“Fuck’s going on here?” John asked, letting more authority than needed seep into the question.
Yelena didn’t react, but Ava and Bob snapped to attention, their eyes wide and unblinking.
“We’re-“ Bob started.
Ava levelled a lethal stare at him. He nodded and sunk back into the couch, pulling his shoulders into himself. Yelena, so drunk that John could smell the alcohol on her breath from fifteen feet away, snorted and fell over, untangling her limbs.
“Little Bob here did not go to high school,” she slurred, her accent and drunken state making her drag out every word. John nodded slowly, trying to figure out why she was acting like she was spilling one of Bob’s darkest secrets. “We’re showing him what it was like. Sit, Walker. You can learn what it means to have fun.”
John weighed his options; go back to his room and return to endless mission reports or stay here and try to supervise whatever was going on. He sighed, resigning himself to becoming a chaperone for two superhumans and one sort-of-maybe-probably human. It didn’t seem too bad, especially since he could probably weasel what was actually happening out of Bob.
With a dramatic sigh, he dropped onto the couch, folding one leg over the other and tapping his foot against Bob’s leg. When his only response was a slight twitch of his hand, John pressed his foot further into the other man’s thigh.
“What’s going on, Bob?” John murmured to avoid getting Yelena’s attention. “Bobbyyyyy? C’mon, you look like a scared dog. Gotta let me know if we need an escape plan. I’m not that good of an actor, but I can fake-cry pretty convincingly.”
A quiet snort escaped Bob.
“Thank god, they didn’t get you too drunk to function. Can you even get drunk?”
“No, Walker, I can’t,” he hissed. “Yelena watched a shitty 2000s movie and is convinced that’s what high school was actually like.”
“Figures. That’s why she’s-“
Limbs flailing barely within his peripheral grabbed his attention. Yelena was gesturing towards him wildly, trying to get him to focus on what she was saying.
“-in heaven,” she slurred.
“What?” John asked, heart rate picking up. “Who’s in heaven?” He couldn’t handle it if she meant the guinea pig she’d rescued a few months back.
Yelena flung an open hand towards them again, leveling her gaze somewhere in between the two. She didn’t move, barely even blinking - until she crooked a finger at John.
Wordlessly, he pointed back at himself, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Yes! You, John!” Yelena crooned, leaning forward. “Who do you want to spend seven minutes with?” She leaned backwards, nearly falling straight onto her back if it wasn’t for Ava catching her by the shoulder.
“Yelena, they don’t do this in high school,” John sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t know what you watched-“
A hand slapped over his mouth. Bob jerked his head in Yelena’s direction when John’s gaze slid over to him, her eyes narrowed into barely visible slits and her body tensed up like a cat about to pounce. He held his hands up in defeat and waited for her to relax before saying anything else.
“Okay. Well, you said seven minutes, right?” John clarified. Yelena nodded, a grin spreading across her face. He gave everyone a once-over; Yelena with cloudy eyes and ruddy cheeks, Ava with equally ruddy cheeks but more deliberate movements, then Bob, obviously and painfully sober, staring at the ground with the biggest, saddest eyes John had ever seen.
Yelena and Ava weren’t even options – regardless of their drunken states – which left one person who definitely hadn’t appeared in his dreams once or twice (seven times now, actually, though who was keeping track?).
“C’mon, Bobby.”
John stood and started walking towards the hallway, pausing briefly when he realized the other man wasn’t behind him. He leaned against the wall, giving Bob a brief glance-over as he struggled to maintain his balance while stepping over Yelena’s prone form.
He couldn’t have chosen better.
Shockingly, there weren’t many closets large enough to fit two grown men, so John picked the next best thing: a bathroom. He held the door open for Bob and proceeded to shut it all too loud for someone trying to seem casual and not-really-into-this.
They stood in the dark for what seemed like an eternity before the silence was broken.
“Sooo… you were the only one that was sober. I’m not into men. Just saying,” John offered, holding his hands in front of himself defensively - though there was no point in the pitch darkness of the bathroom, considering neither of them could see anything.
John hoped neither of them could see anything, otherwise he’d have to explain the blush coloring his entire face. He shifted from one foot to the other, relishing in the slight pain from the sharp counter edge digging into his back.
He was too busy questioning everything he just said - if it was too weird, if he even needed to say it or if it was all implied, if Bob was going to start ignoring him the second they left the bathroom - to notice that Bob actually did speak.
“Huh?”
Silence so heavy that John could feel himself start to slouch under its weight followed the question, then a solid, warm (god, how was he so warm?) chest pressed against his own.
“I said I don’t believe you. I think you want me and you’re scared of that. You have to justify this to yourself when the real answer is that you. want. me.” Bob murmured, caging John against the counter.
“What?” John sputtered, his voice cracking.
“You heard me.”
John did hear him. That was the issue.
He was surrounded by Bob – heard his pulse pounding underneath his skin, felt his chest rising with each deep breath, tasted the citrus from whatever cologne he was wearing. John couldn’t bring himself to respond, not when it felt like he was drowning hundreds of feet above sea level.
He was silent for too long. He could feel Bob shift backwards, probably with an apology sitting on the tip of his tongue that was just about to break free, when John surged forward to press their lips together. It was messy, inefficient, John desperately grasping Bob’s shoulders to pull him closer, digging his nails into his soft sweater like he’d pull away at any moment.
Calloused hands wrapped around his waist, starting to slide the hem of his shirt up. John moaned low in his throat, torn between pressing back into the barely-there touch on the skin of his back or arching forward to shift their hips together. He threaded his fingers into the soft waves of Bob’s hair, tightening his grip as Bob attempted to shove his hands further under his waistband.
They broke apart, both gasping for air, their foreheads pressed together too intimately for whatever this thing was. Their brief pause let John realize how hard he was; his dick throbbing almost painfully, the friction of his jeans nearly enough to push him over the edge.
Embarrassment simmered low in his stomach. Being on the verge of cumming after a few seconds of kissing was humiliating. It was something that happened as a high schooler, not as a thirty-something divorcee.
Maybe it was because he couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted something this badly and actually gotten it.
Bob pulled him out of his thoughts, roughly hauling him forward and slotting a thigh in between his own. There was nothing quiet about the moan that ripped out of John’s throat. He tried to slap a hand over his mouth in shock, but he was stopped by Bob leaning forward and locking their lips together again, this time slipping his tongue past John’s lips.
The wet spot growing in John’s boxers eased the grind of their hips – long, slow thrusts completely controlled by Bob’s strong hands, their bodies wedged so closely it was impossible to tell where one started and the other ended.
“Bobby- you’re so–“ John breathed desperately, breaking their kiss to pant into the other man’s open mouth.
Heat built in his stomach far too fast, his dick twitching and leaking more than he had ever felt before. Bob’s grip tightened enough to hurt, his eyes flickering sporadically with gold highlights.
It was too much.
John’s body tensed violently, keeping their hips pressed together and stopping any movement beyond his jerky, unpredictable grinds. He was trembling, hands flexing in Bob’s hair so hard he felt a few strands snap. His vision whited out – all he felt was the hard thigh between his own, the overwhelming pleasure spiking through his entire body, the warmth spreading through his boxers.
“Oh, fuck, John. Fuck, you look so good. Can’t believe I get you all to myself,” Bob rasped. He fumbled with John’s belt buckle, huffing a victorious laugh when he finally got it unbuckled. John’s limbs were still too loose to help in any way, but he made a weak gesture towards Bob’s fly, who unbuttoned it as fast as possible.
Bob reached for the waistband of John’s boxers, pausing to softly pet over his happy trail until the anticipation was too much to bear and John pushed forward with a small, pathetic noise.
Pleasure was still tingling weakly through his body when Bob’s calloused hand wrapped around his dick, his muscles jumping from the sudden overstimulation.
“You’re so wet, John. I didn’t know you needed me this bad,” Bob teased, running his fingers across the tip of his dick.
“Need you bad, Bobby,” John murmured, unable to hide the embarrassment seeping into his voice. “So bad. Can’t control myself around you, made me feel so good.” He didn’t know how, or why, but he was still hard.
“You wanna cum for me?” Bob purred against his neck.
The blush on John’s face darkened further, words blurting out before he could even think about stopping them.
“Already did.”
Bob groaned deep in his throat, a sound that John was already committing to memory. He grabbed John’s hand, pulling it closer to dip into his own boxers.
“Wait, Bob, I’ve never-“ John started, anxiety running ice-cold through his veins.
“Don’t worry baby, it’s just like when you touch yourself after waking up from one of your wet dreams,” Bob whispered. “You know we share a wall, right? I can hear everything – you moaning my name, how fast you’re stroking yourself, how wet you get. I hear it all.”
John couldn’t hold back the low whine that slipped out into the quiet bathroom. Bob grabbed his hand, guiding his fingers to wrap around his dick.
“Feel how hard I am for you?”
He nodded, the warm weight of Bob’s dick in his hand making his ears ring.
“I know you want me. You need me. And you can have me, John. I’m right here,” Bob almost begged, his voice taking on a desperate tone. His breath ghosted over John’s lips in a cruel reminder of how this started.
“Please, please move your hand, it’s too much,” John moaned, tears welling up in his eyes from the constant pressure on his over-sensitive dick.
“Admit it. Then you’ll get everything you’ve ever wanted from me.”
“Fuck, oh my god, I want you,” John nearly sobbed, the growing tension in his chest finally releasing. He tightened his grip around Bob’s dick and stroked down the entire length of it, whining when he felt it twitch.
“See? Not as scary as you thought it was,” Bob drawled. “Doing so good for me, baby.”
John knew nothing would ever compare to this moment again – their hips pressing against each other, faces so close they were breathing the same air, the weight of Bob’s dick in his hand.
Every time their arms touched, shivers crawled down John’s spine until the urge to get even closer was too much. He yanked his hand from Bob’s boxers, fingers scrabbling desperately at the other man’s back.
“Can-can you take yours out?” John gasped frantically. He was barely coherent, hoping that Bob would somehow understand what he was saying. “Touch me? At the same time?”
“Good job asking for something you want, Johnny,” Bob praised condescendingly, pulling both of their boxers down to press their dicks together. The heat was overwhelming, drawing a sharp intake of air from both of them.
John wasn’t that proud of a man, but he knew his dick wasn’t small. Or he thought it wasn’t small until he saw Bob’s. The size difference was intoxicating. Bob was bigger in every way – longer and thicker, a large drop of precum drooling from the tip down its shaft. His hand wrapped around both of their dicks, squeezing them together enough that his fingertips barely connected. He thumbed over John’s tip, huffing a quiet laugh when John trembled in place.
“Please, I need to cum, please Bobby – I can’t-“ John cut himself off with a long, drawn-out moan.
“Be patient,” Bob whispered, before connecting their lips again. He ran his tongue along the seam of John’s mouth, sighing happily when he opened his mouth.
John couldn’t see anything, but he could feel the constant pressure from Bob’s grip, strong and insistent as he slowly started moving his hand. It took every ounce of his willpower to avoid thrusting his hips closer, knowing that Bob would stop moving the second he did anything he didn’t ask for.
“Faster, please, I’m about to-“
Bob bit his lip hard, definitely drawing blood from the taste of iron that filled John’s mouth.
“Ask,” Bob hissed, somehow tightening his grip further.
“God, can I cum?” John whined, feeling the start of an orgasm curling in his stomach.
“God? I like that,” Bob mused, blue eyes flickering with gold again. “You can cum, baby. Since you asked so nicely.”
John nearly collapsed when every muscle loosened, only still standing because of Bob’s weight holding him against the counter. He knew he was babbling incoherently, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as the strongest orgasm he’s ever had flooded through his body.
He vaguely registered Bob’s low moans and the feeling of cum landing on his skin before something damp and warm touched his dick.
“What’re you-?” John gasped, hand lurching forward to meet with what was probably Bob’s soft waves. The warm-wet thing traced the length of his dick, pausing to lick over the tip before pulling away entirely. “Did you lick my cum off of me?”
“Sorry,” Bob snorted. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Yeah, sure. Just turn the light on, Bobby. I wanna see you.”
Blinding light filled the small bathroom, making John immediately regret his request. His eyes finally adjusted and he opened them to see Bob still standing in front of him, a broad grin spread across his face. He dragged his gaze downward to see Bob’s fly still undone, but he had tucked his dick back into his boxers. John couldn’t say the same for himself though, only realizing he was still exposed when the spit started cooling on his skin.
“You taste pretty good.”
Laughing, John shook his head and tucked himself back into his boxers, buckling his belt to try to look as presentable as he could. He ignored how weak his knees felt and how his heart still hammered in his chest. “Whatever. Let’s go back out there.”
“You think Yelena noticed how long we were gone?” Bob asked, guiding him into the hallway with a hand on his lower back. They made their way down the hallway, pausing when they could hear loud, obnoxious snores coming from the living room.
“I don’t think so.”