Bucky let out another needy noise, this one half sob, as his hand sped up. “Come on, c'mere, don't make me wait anymore,” he begged, knees falling open even wider and his hips tilting up. Steve could see all of him like that, smooth and hairless and so exposed that it made his mouth go a little dry. He couldn't tell if the lack of body hair even down there was another serum side effect or something Bucky did on purpose.
He moved back between Bucky's thighs, cradled a leg in the crook of his arm and sucked on the first two fingers of his other hand to get them wet. Steve knew, in the back of his mind, that they should be using lube, but he didn't have any on hand, and besides, queers had been having sex for a lot longer than KY had been in business. This would do.
Steve would be careful. He'd be so fuckin' gentle.
“I'll take you out dancin' after this,” Steve promised, rubbing his wet fingers over and around the tight pucker of Bucky's asshole. Bucky squirmed, gasped, shoulders going back and muscles flexing as his body rolled up at the feeling. He teased the tip of his index finger into Bucky. “Swing you 'round and show you off to all my friends –”
“Oh god.”
“You gonna wear that dress I like?” he asked, and paused to gather saliva on his tongue before he leaned back just enough to spit. It hit a little high on Bucky's perineum, and Steve watched the frothy substance slide down toward his fingers with an intensity that surprised himself. Bucky keened, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Fuck.”
“Would you –“ He was starting to babble, too, now, and the deeper he got his finger into Bucky the worse it got. Steve hadn't been good at talking to dames back in the day because his filter would get lost in his excitement or his nervousness, and he'd say things he shouldn't have said instead of getting tongue-tied like so many other boys. Bucky felt hot and tight, and the slide was a little on the rough side but Bucky didn't seem to mind, seemed to like it like that, and all Steve could think about up in the forefront of his thoughts was how good this was going to feel wrapped his dick. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, “Leave your panties at home? When we go dancing? Make it real easy for me to slip it to you, if you want it and don't wanna wait.”
“Steve, fuck me, please, god, whatever you want, okay? Whatever you want, just, please.”
He wasn't quick about it, working Bucky open with two fingers. Occasionally he pulled them out to put them in his mouth again, rewetting them before sliding back in. Steve tried a lot of things he'd seen in porn: crossing his fingers one over the other and twisting his wrist a little on the push; pressing his thumb against the skin just behind Bucky's balls in slow circles while he pumped his fingers in and out and back in again. He found Bucky's prostate practically on accident, and spent several long minutes rubbing at it and teasing it and toying with it because Steve thought the way it pushed Bucky past words and made him writhe on the couch beneath him was goddamn beautiful.
Bucky came like that with a sharp cry, tugging desperately on his dick with Steve's fingers massaging that sensitive spot in his body, painting his stomach white and sticky.
“Oh,” Steve murmured, spreading his fingers apart to test the stretch. Bucky was shaking and maybe a little overstimulated in the aftermath of his orgasm, his mouth hanging open and his eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his breath hitching on Steve's every move. He was relaxing though, and maybe it was because he'd just come or was still a little drunk, or maybe it was because Bucky was a world-class sniper and could control things like his heart rate and his breathing and even his own damn body temperature when he needed to, but the wet rim of his asshole felt loose and gave easily when Steve tugged at it with his fingertips. “Yeah? You still want it?”
“I. . .” Bucky stared up at the ceiling unseeingly, eyelashes damp. His left hand finally made its way down from where he'd been gripping his own hair to grab at Steve's upper arm with a bruising level of force. The plates shifted, a soft whirring sound of moving gears, and it should not have made Steve's hands or cock twitch like that. “Augh. I. . . I swear. . . I swear to fucking God, if you don't, I'm gonna –“
“Shh,” Steve hushed him, and kissed the inside of Bucky's knee where he was still cradling one leg in his arm, as he folded that big strong body up just a little bit more for the angle. “I know. I'm a nice boy, remember? I'll give you what you need. I always take care of my girl, don't I?”
“Stevie,” Bucky whimpered helplessly, but didn't seem to have anything else to add. Steve moved his hand out of the way to spit into it one last time. It wasn't a lot, but he figured it was better than nothing, as he worked the saliva over his aching and neglected cock before nudging the blunt head up against Bucky's hole, which tensed and then almost immediately relaxed again, an odd fluttery kind of sensation that made Steve's brain short out.
So he wasn't really thinking much of anything when he started to press forward, when Bucky opened up for him with sweet moans, all hot and perfect, a tight, smooth squeeze as Steve slid in, inch by slow, agonizing inch until their bodies were flush and he was fully seated. And then it was just pressure all around him and he couldn't even breathe because now he was inside Bucky, in a way that he hadn't ever been, hadn't ever thought he would get to be. He couldn't move, couldn't handle even the tiniest shift of his body to inhale because it would be too much, too intense, too good.
Steve didn't deserve anything this good and he was pretty sure he was going to die when Bucky started to rock his hips, forcing just the root of Steve's cock in and out. “C'mon,” he whispered, biting his lower lip so hard the skin looked about to break and trying to work his own dick back up for a second round with his right hand, slick with his own come. “C'mon, Stevie, gimme it, I want. . . I need. . . fuck, please. Ain't I been a good girl for you? Huh? Ain't I your best gal?”
“Y-yeah. Yeah, Bucky, yeah, 'course you are.” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he stumbled through the words as he loomed over Bucky and started to thrust. Steve kept it slow, kept it deep, kept pulling back and being careful not to snap his hips forward too hard even though that was what he really wanted to do. His spit-slick fingers skittered over the skin at Bucky's hip, seeking purchase. He wanted to pound Bucky into the couch cushions until he was screaming, until he was breathless, until he could only wail wordlessly.
Next time, he told himself, sweat dripping in his eyes when he turned his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against Bucky's left arm. Next time.
“I'm not gonna last,” he mumbled, apologetic, into the prosthetic. A plate shifted against his tongue, tension pooling at the base of his spine as his teeth scraped across hard metal.
"I want you to come on me."
"What?" Steve's rhythm faltered, slowed for a moment as he looked down at Bucky's face in confusion. Bucky was still biting his lower lip, hand still moving as he jacked himself. He was hard again, but probably not nearly as close as Steve was.
"On me, on my tits," Bucky clarified. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Steve thrust in again, harder than he meant to, before he leaned down to kiss at Bucky's jaw and ask, voice soft:
"You don't want me to come in you? Give you some of them asthmatic little babies you wanted so bad?"
Bucky groaned, squeezing his own dick just a little too hard to be fully comfortable, like he might just blow it right then and there. He squirmed again, clenching down tight enough to make Steve gasp. "Fuck. Yeah? Yeah, I want that, Stevie. Fill me up, I wan' it."
“Y-yeah?”
“God, I want it. C’mon, please? Please, I-I want –” he cut off with a little cry, eyes shut. “I need it, Steve, Stevie, please.”
It didn't take Steve long after that, not with Bucky begging and needy and tight like that. Not with the slow, deep pace he set, the sound of their skin smacking together and their breaths harsh and panted into the air between them, the slight mechanical whir of Bucky's metal arm every time his grip shifted on Steve's sweaty shoulder. Steve stilled, his mouth open and moving, silent as the waves of his orgasm rushed through him and Bucky's insides seemed to milk it from him so that it lasted and lasted and lasted.
When it was finally over, he practically fell forward, catching himself on the arm rest behind the sniper's head with his free hand and bowing his back up a little so that there was still room for Bucky's hand between them. He was about to ask if Bucky could even come again this soon, but Bucky was grinding his hips, moving on Steve's sensitive, softening dick, and there was a wet, squelchy kind of feeling that he recognized a second too late as being his come slicking the way, and he was saying, “Don't, don't pull out, Stevie, please, please, please –“
“Fuck,” Steve hissed, and then Bucky was surging up to bite at his chest and whimpering, cock jerking and spitting another ribbon of semen up onto his stomach. It sounded like it hurt this time, and there wasn't as much, and then they both settled on the couch, Steve slumping heavily on top of Bucky and smearing come on his skin as they both tried to catch their breath.
On the bright side, that had been fucking amazing. On the down side, they had definitely burned through the alcohol in their systems and probably had to deal with. . . with whatever the hell this was, now. Bucky kept his eyes glued to the ceiling like there was something fascinating up there, his metal palm rubbing gentle circles between Steve's shoulder blades. Steve pressed a hesitant kiss to his stubbled cheek and asked, voice laced with worry, “Bucky?”
“Did you. . . did you mean all that? Or were you just –”
“No,” he interrupted. Bucky grimaced, and Steve kissed him again, quick, before he rushed to explain, “I mean, yeah, I meant it, and no, I wasn't just sayin' all that.”
“But. . . but this was like, a one time thing? 'Cause you were drunk and I'm pretty?” he asked, uncertain, and it was Steve's turn to make a face.
“No. No, I'll take you to the movies, and we'll go to dinner first, next time.”
“Next time? What, like a date?”
“Yeah. Yeah, like a real date. I don't want nobody thinkin' you're fast, or something,” Steve said, lips trailing along Bucky's jawline. “We'll go steady.”
Bucky huffed a disbelieving laugh, but finally turned his head for a proper kiss. Steve tried to keep it chaste, tried to keep it sweet, but Bucky opened his mouth and made it dirty and sucked on his tongue like what he really wanted to do was suck on his dick. Steve moaned, and Bucky murmured, “People gonna wonder what a nice boy like you is doin' with a gal like me.”
"Oh, I'll make an honest woman out of you yet, James Barnes, just you wait an' see," Steve snapped, and Bucky just laughed again and kissed him harder. ---- I can't believe how long this sex scene ended up being, fuck my entire life right now, I'm so sorry, OP, they wouldn't shut the fuck up and I don't know how to wriiiite *dies* The "good enough to eat" line was an homage to Pretty Little Thing by rusting_roses, and the "rearrange my insides with that big dick of yours" was an homage to zetsubonna's We Got Time, both over on AO3
[Fill]: Never (Oh, Have I Ever), 5/5
He moved back between Bucky's thighs, cradled a leg in the crook of his arm and sucked on the first two fingers of his other hand to get them wet. Steve knew, in the back of his mind, that they should be using lube, but he didn't have any on hand, and besides, queers had been having sex for a lot longer than KY had been in business. This would do.
Steve would be careful. He'd be so fuckin' gentle.
“I'll take you out dancin' after this,” Steve promised, rubbing his wet fingers over and around the tight pucker of Bucky's asshole. Bucky squirmed, gasped, shoulders going back and muscles flexing as his body rolled up at the feeling. He teased the tip of his index finger into Bucky. “Swing you 'round and show you off to all my friends –”
“Oh god.”
“You gonna wear that dress I like?” he asked, and paused to gather saliva on his tongue before he leaned back just enough to spit. It hit a little high on Bucky's perineum, and Steve watched the frothy substance slide down toward his fingers with an intensity that surprised himself. Bucky keened, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Fuck.”
“Would you –“ He was starting to babble, too, now, and the deeper he got his finger into Bucky the worse it got. Steve hadn't been good at talking to dames back in the day because his filter would get lost in his excitement or his nervousness, and he'd say things he shouldn't have said instead of getting tongue-tied like so many other boys. Bucky felt hot and tight, and the slide was a little on the rough side but Bucky didn't seem to mind, seemed to like it like that, and all Steve could think about up in the forefront of his thoughts was how good this was going to feel wrapped his dick. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, “Leave your panties at home? When we go dancing? Make it real easy for me to slip it to you, if you want it and don't wanna wait.”
“Steve, fuck me, please, god, whatever you want, okay? Whatever you want, just, please.”
He wasn't quick about it, working Bucky open with two fingers. Occasionally he pulled them out to put them in his mouth again, rewetting them before sliding back in. Steve tried a lot of things he'd seen in porn: crossing his fingers one over the other and twisting his wrist a little on the push; pressing his thumb against the skin just behind Bucky's balls in slow circles while he pumped his fingers in and out and back in again. He found Bucky's prostate practically on accident, and spent several long minutes rubbing at it and teasing it and toying with it because Steve thought the way it pushed Bucky past words and made him writhe on the couch beneath him was goddamn beautiful.
Bucky came like that with a sharp cry, tugging desperately on his dick with Steve's fingers massaging that sensitive spot in his body, painting his stomach white and sticky.
“Oh,” Steve murmured, spreading his fingers apart to test the stretch. Bucky was shaking and maybe a little overstimulated in the aftermath of his orgasm, his mouth hanging open and his eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his breath hitching on Steve's every move. He was relaxing though, and maybe it was because he'd just come or was still a little drunk, or maybe it was because Bucky was a world-class sniper and could control things like his heart rate and his breathing and even his own damn body temperature when he needed to, but the wet rim of his asshole felt loose and gave easily when Steve tugged at it with his fingertips. “Yeah? You still want it?”
“I. . .” Bucky stared up at the ceiling unseeingly, eyelashes damp. His left hand finally made its way down from where he'd been gripping his own hair to grab at Steve's upper arm with a bruising level of force. The plates shifted, a soft whirring sound of moving gears, and it should not have made Steve's hands or cock twitch like that. “Augh. I. . . I swear. . . I swear to fucking God, if you don't, I'm gonna –“
“Shh,” Steve hushed him, and kissed the inside of Bucky's knee where he was still cradling one leg in his arm, as he folded that big strong body up just a little bit more for the angle. “I know. I'm a nice boy, remember? I'll give you what you need. I always take care of my girl, don't I?”
“Stevie,” Bucky whimpered helplessly, but didn't seem to have anything else to add. Steve moved his hand out of the way to spit into it one last time. It wasn't a lot, but he figured it was better than nothing, as he worked the saliva over his aching and neglected cock before nudging the blunt head up against Bucky's hole, which tensed and then almost immediately relaxed again, an odd fluttery kind of sensation that made Steve's brain short out.
So he wasn't really thinking much of anything when he started to press forward, when Bucky opened up for him with sweet moans, all hot and perfect, a tight, smooth squeeze as Steve slid in, inch by slow, agonizing inch until their bodies were flush and he was fully seated. And then it was just pressure all around him and he couldn't even breathe because now he was inside Bucky, in a way that he hadn't ever been, hadn't ever thought he would get to be. He couldn't move, couldn't handle even the tiniest shift of his body to inhale because it would be too much, too intense, too good.
Steve didn't deserve anything this good and he was pretty sure he was going to die when Bucky started to rock his hips, forcing just the root of Steve's cock in and out. “C'mon,” he whispered, biting his lower lip so hard the skin looked about to break and trying to work his own dick back up for a second round with his right hand, slick with his own come. “C'mon, Stevie, gimme it, I want. . . I need. . . fuck, please. Ain't I been a good girl for you? Huh? Ain't I your best gal?”
“Y-yeah. Yeah, Bucky, yeah, 'course you are.” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he stumbled through the words as he loomed over Bucky and started to thrust. Steve kept it slow, kept it deep, kept pulling back and being careful not to snap his hips forward too hard even though that was what he really wanted to do. His spit-slick fingers skittered over the skin at Bucky's hip, seeking purchase. He wanted to pound Bucky into the couch cushions until he was screaming, until he was breathless, until he could only wail wordlessly.
Next time, he told himself, sweat dripping in his eyes when he turned his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against Bucky's left arm. Next time.
“I'm not gonna last,” he mumbled, apologetic, into the prosthetic. A plate shifted against his tongue, tension pooling at the base of his spine as his teeth scraped across hard metal.
"I want you to come on me."
"What?" Steve's rhythm faltered, slowed for a moment as he looked down at Bucky's face in confusion. Bucky was still biting his lower lip, hand still moving as he jacked himself. He was hard again, but probably not nearly as close as Steve was.
"On me, on my tits," Bucky clarified. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Steve thrust in again, harder than he meant to, before he leaned down to kiss at Bucky's jaw and ask, voice soft:
"You don't want me to come in you? Give you some of them asthmatic little babies you wanted so bad?"
Bucky groaned, squeezing his own dick just a little too hard to be fully comfortable, like he might just blow it right then and there. He squirmed again, clenching down tight enough to make Steve gasp. "Fuck. Yeah? Yeah, I want that, Stevie. Fill me up, I wan' it."
“Y-yeah?”
“God, I want it. C’mon, please? Please, I-I want –” he cut off with a little cry, eyes shut. “I need it, Steve, Stevie, please.”
It didn't take Steve long after that, not with Bucky begging and needy and tight like that. Not with the slow, deep pace he set, the sound of their skin smacking together and their breaths harsh and panted into the air between them, the slight mechanical whir of Bucky's metal arm every time his grip shifted on Steve's sweaty shoulder. Steve stilled, his mouth open and moving, silent as the waves of his orgasm rushed through him and Bucky's insides seemed to milk it from him so that it lasted and lasted and lasted.
When it was finally over, he practically fell forward, catching himself on the arm rest behind the sniper's head with his free hand and bowing his back up a little so that there was still room for Bucky's hand between them. He was about to ask if Bucky could even come again this soon, but Bucky was grinding his hips, moving on Steve's sensitive, softening dick, and there was a wet, squelchy kind of feeling that he recognized a second too late as being his come slicking the way, and he was saying, “Don't, don't pull out, Stevie, please, please, please –“
“Fuck,” Steve hissed, and then Bucky was surging up to bite at his chest and whimpering, cock jerking and spitting another ribbon of semen up onto his stomach. It sounded like it hurt this time, and there wasn't as much, and then they both settled on the couch, Steve slumping heavily on top of Bucky and smearing come on his skin as they both tried to catch their breath.
On the bright side, that had been fucking amazing. On the down side, they had definitely burned through the alcohol in their systems and probably had to deal with. . . with whatever the hell this was, now. Bucky kept his eyes glued to the ceiling like there was something fascinating up there, his metal palm rubbing gentle circles between Steve's shoulder blades. Steve pressed a hesitant kiss to his stubbled cheek and asked, voice laced with worry, “Bucky?”
“Did you. . . did you mean all that? Or were you just –”
“No,” he interrupted. Bucky grimaced, and Steve kissed him again, quick, before he rushed to explain, “I mean, yeah, I meant it, and no, I wasn't just sayin' all that.”
“But. . . but this was like, a one time thing? 'Cause you were drunk and I'm pretty?” he asked, uncertain, and it was Steve's turn to make a face.
“No. No, I'll take you to the movies, and we'll go to dinner first, next time.”
“Next time? What, like a date?”
“Yeah. Yeah, like a real date. I don't want nobody thinkin' you're fast, or something,” Steve said, lips trailing along Bucky's jawline. “We'll go steady.”
Bucky huffed a disbelieving laugh, but finally turned his head for a proper kiss. Steve tried to keep it chaste, tried to keep it sweet, but Bucky opened his mouth and made it dirty and sucked on his tongue like what he really wanted to do was suck on his dick. Steve moaned, and Bucky murmured, “People gonna wonder what a nice boy like you is doin' with a gal like me.”
"Oh, I'll make an honest woman out of you yet, James Barnes, just you wait an' see," Steve snapped, and Bucky just laughed again and kissed him harder.
----
I can't believe how long this sex scene ended up being, fuck my entire life right now, I'm so sorry, OP, they wouldn't shut the fuck up and I don't know how to wriiiite *dies* The "good enough to eat" line was an homage to Pretty Little Thing by rusting_roses, and the "rearrange my insides with that big dick of yours" was an homage to zetsubonna's We Got Time, both over on AO3