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It’s a bit like a roadtrip, in all honesty. In fact, that’s what a lot of people assume when Sam and Steve show up in myriad diners along the way: two young bachelors in a greasy spoon on a road trip. Even the people who recognize Captain America when they see him don’t quite recognize that the two of them are on a deeply personal quest. They’re not saving the world, not per se, but they’re certainly saving something, and that’s all Sam really needs.
They’re not bachelors either, frankly. At least not by Sam’s definition.
Who knows what Steve thinks, but there’s the glaring truth of Something Going On when the two of them start sharing rooms in the dingy motels they frequent. Their fucking is never quite planned out, always a little clumsy and desperate, but once it’s started there’s no stopping that Something that pulls them together so tightly and inexorably. Maybe it’s their shared experience, or maybe it’s just the result of two not-quite-straight friends cooped up together for so long, but Sam doesn’t need to know the particulars, not really. Sleeping side by side, the warmth of Steve’s ass pressed against his thigh, or waking up with a strong arm wrapped protectively around his chest—that’s enough.
Also, fucking Captain America is pretty great. Sam points this out. A lot.
“Fucking Captain America is pretty great,” he says, laid out on his back in a squeaky motel bed as Steve straddles him. Steve is accomplishing this crazy superhuman position of holding both their cocks in one hand and fucking into it, his other arm bearing the brunt of his weight, causing the veins to pop up in his sharp forearms. He looks up through his bangs with an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. He isn’t even sweating, the bastard, and that is exactly why fucking Captain America is pretty great.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says, but his bravado hitches when he looks down at Sam’s toned chest, shy at his own attraction. He licks his lips and shoots Sam this uncertain glance, before leaning forward and licking at one of Sam’s brown nipples.
“Sorry, that doesn’t do much for me,” says Sam, but he cups the back of Steve’s head to keep him there. “You can go for it if it’s getting you off, though.”
It is clearly getting Steve off, and Sam’s glad when Steve stays there, rolling the bud of Sam’s nipple along his tongue. Sam raises his hips into Steve’s hold when Steve accidentally makes this hot wet sound against his chest.
“I’m close,” Sam says, and his hand joins Steve’s around their cocks. It’s only a few more thrusts, their cocks slick and hot and sliding against one another just so, before Sam is coming hard, his stomach muscles clenching as cum spits over his and Steve’s fingers. He removes his hand immediately, wiping it absentmindedly on his chest, but Steve continues to fist his cock for a few more pulls, milking out every last tinge of pleasure.
“That’s good, that’s good,” Sam says in a tone of finality, and Steve finally lets them go, Sam’s cock flopping to his belly, spent.
Steve is still fully hard, however, even as he lifts off of Sam and comes to sit beside him against the headboard. One of the downsides to his supersoldier virility, they’ve found, is an unforeseen amount of stamina.
It takes a lot to get Steve off, basically. But Sam is happy to comply.
“Just give me one second,” Sam says, leaning over Steve’s lap (and erection) to pick up some essentials from the bedside table. Firstly, he snatches a cigarette from his pack next to the lamp, lights it, and sticks it between his lips. For the most part he’s quit smoking, but every now and then, and particularly during this roadtrip mission, he gets a craving. He learned to smoke in the first place as a soldier among soldiers, and there’s a certain nostalgia associated with the burn (because he’s only interested in cigarettes that burn), a nostalgia amplified by Steve’s friendship and their shared… let’s call them quirks.
He takes a few deep breaths to slow his pounding heart, and Steve has the patience of a saint, watching him with a slight frown. Sam waits for the lecture, because Steve worries about his health, but somewhere along the line Steve has come to understand what this sense memory means to Sam, and has gone quiet on the subject albeit disapprovingly.
For his sake, Sam only takes a few more puffs before licking his thumb and pinching the cigarette out between thumb and forefinger, saving the rest for another day, another fuck.
Then he sits cross-legged in front of Steve and grins at him.
“Looks like you’ve got a problem, Captain,” he says, referring of course to the still entirely sizeable erection pressing against Steve’s abs.
“Yes,” says Steve, because sex talk is not his strong suit.
Sam reaches again to the nightstand, this time for the bottle of hotel-sized lotion they’ve been smuggling since however-many motels ago. He plops a generous two dollops into his palm and rubs his hands together. Then he runs a finger down the length of Steve’s cock, earning a few eager twitches.
“So you’re a tits kind of guy,” Sam says conversationally, circling his fingers just under the head of Steve’s cock, bobbing there carefully.
“Maybe?” says Steve, apparently unfazed except for the pinkness emerging in his cheeks. “I don’t know. I think you’re hot.”
“Thanks. The feeling is mutual.” He comes up to rub a thumb roughly over the head of Steve’s cock, making Steve hiss.
“Ah. I didn’t mean that.”
“So I’m not hot?”
“No, I mean—Jesus—I mean you’re more to me than just hot.”
This suddenly has the air of a confession, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke sticks in Sam’s nose, burning. “You’re saying you like my body because it’s mine,” he says gently, and not so gently at all begins pumping Steve’s cock, polishing the head with his palm on the upstrokes, toying with his balls with his free hand.
“Yeah, something like that,” says Steve, whose eyes have gone foggy with pleasure. “I mean. I’m. I’m really attracted to you. But I don’t want you to think this... Oh fuck.” He swallows thickly and closes his eyes for a moment.
“We’re not doing this just because we find each other mutually hot,” Sam helps.
“Yeah. But at the same time, I’m not entirely sure why we’re doing this.”
“Who says you have to be?” Sam asks, meeting his eyes pointedly.
Steve has this strangely desperate look on his face, not only to come or to be understood but… well, who knows. Steve clearly doesn’t. Perhaps it’s something like desperation for love, for companionship, in a world against you. Perhaps it’s fear that you’ve found love without any of those qualifiers.
Sam breathes deeply though his nose, smelling that cigarette smoke, then leans forward and takes the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth, pumping furiously. Steve’s head rolls back, thunking against the headboard with a worrisome (for the headboard) crack. It isn’t too long before his cock begins to quiver against Sam’s tongue, and around then Steve murmurs an “I’m gonna cum”, but Sam has already leaned back and he continues jerking Steve until the cum bursts out and peppers Steve’s belly. Steve is breathing heavily, a rare sight, his pecs straining. Sam gives one of his nipples a tweak and Steve jerks back a little, surprised but also clearly pleasured. Sam makes this into a mental note for the future.
He thinks about lighting his cigarette again, but instead he flops onto his side of the bed and punches his pillow into shape. It’s been a long day.
Steve scoots about a little then throws an arm around him.
“I’m in for a nap,” says Sam.
Steve perches his chin on Sam’s shoulder and is quiet.
“What?” Sam urges, careful.
“Thanks,” Steve says. “For everything.”
Sam smiles. He takes Steve’s hand and pulls his arm more snugly around him, like some sort of human shawl, and closes his eyes for sleep.