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Seventeen Days. It’s not that long as far as assignments go. Steve’s been in the field for much longer stretches with people he likes less in worse conditions and with an uglier objective. It could have been so much worse in so many ways and he should really be grateful all things considered, but now that the mission is over and he’s nearly home, all he can think about is that it’s been seventeen days, twelve hours, fifty six minutes and thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine seconds since he kissed Bucky and boarded transport. He’d barely been able to contain his fidgeting during debrief, and if anyone noticed they chose not to comment. Steve doesn’t even care what they say at this point. He knows what’s waiting for him when he gets home and there’s honestly not a thing he can think of that would stop him from getting there as fast as possible. He weaves his motorcycle through traffic fast enough that cab drivers lean out their windows to holler at him, but Steve doesn’t pay them any mind except to avoid hitting them. He just needs to get to Bucky. He won’t be able to think of anything else until he does.
Steve runs, fucking sprints into the building, taking the stairs two at a time and for once paying no mind whatsoever to the volume of his boots stomping down the hallway. The apartment is silent when he walks in but he knows Bucky has to be here; his keys are still on the counter.
“Buck?” Steve calls out. Bucky doesn’t answer. He props his shield up by the door, kicks off his boots, and makes a beeline for the bedroom. Bucky’s taken to napping a lot these days. He jokes about laziness, but really it’s just a soldier’s trait; you get sleep wherever you can grab it for as long as you can get away with. It’s not Bucky’s fault he’s got so much downtime these days. Shield will let him in the field eventually, and when they do, he’ll be ready.
“Hey Stevie,” Bucky croons when Steve pushes open the door. He’s in bed alright, that much Steve was correct about, but he’s not fucking napping. “Been waiting for you to get home. What took you?” Steve just stares at him and he makes to reply but he just chokes on his tongue. Bucky is sprawled out on the bed, sheets kicked down at his feet, with not a stitch on him. His shaggy hair hangs haphazard and damp around his face – Steve guesses he just took a shower – and the fingers of his metal hand have a loose grip on his flushed and leaking cock, moving in slow strokes as he eyes Steve like a tiger eyeing up its next meal. Steve swallows; he gulps, really, and tries the speaking thing again.
“How’d…how’d you know I was back?” Steve doesn’t really want to talk. He wants to sink to his knees and wrap his lips around Bucky’s cock. He’s been thinking about a lot of things he’s been wanting to do when he got back home and got his hands on Bucky, but that’s been at the forefront of his mind the whole time. He’s been dreaming, awake and sleeping, about the way Bucky tastes, about the fucking sinful noises Bucky makes when Steve licks and sucks at his cock, about Bucky’s fingers grabbing painfully tight in Steve’s hair as he swallows around his dick. “Only touched down like an hour ago. Came home straight from debrief. Barely anyone even knows we’re back stateside.”
Bucky smirks, drags his thumb through the precome at the tip of his cock, and Steve licks his lips. “Romanov,” Bucky replies. “She texted me as soon as you landed.” Steve makes a mental note to thank her later. This is exactly the kind of thing he likes coming home to. He wonders how to appropriately thank someone like Natasha Romanov. Flowers? Bottle of wine? Custom pistols with her initials on the grip? That’s a problem for later. Bucky shifts, throwing a leg out to the side, and starts to work his erection with a bit more intensity. Steve’s mesmerized. He can’t take his eyes off of Bucky. “You just gonna stand there starin’ at me or are you gonna get naked and come over here? My dick’s pretty big, but I can’t exactly fuck you from across the room.” Steve doesn’t need to be asked twice. He drops his jacket in a heap and starts tugging at his tee-shirt with both hands, and it’s half way off before Bucky speaks again.
“Woah, cool down there Stevie. Ain’t seen ya in nearly three weeks. Slow it down for me. Gimme a bit of a show?” Bucky frames it like a question, but they both know Steve won’t resist. He blushes and he stammers if you ask him about it in mixed company, ‘cause sure, he’s a good church-going boy when you get right down to it, but in private when it’s just Bucky watching, when it’s Bucky talking at him in that low, dark voice, Steve is anything but shy. He loves to feel Bucky’s eyes on him as he slowly exposes himself, shedding layers and teasing at what hides beneath until finally he’s naked. The tease always makes it better.
Steve lets the shirt go and flattens his hands across his abdomen. His thumbs catch the hem and pull it up just a little as he touches himself, exposing just glimpses of the hard muscle behind the thin fabric. He bites his bottom lip and catches Bucky’s eye for a moment before fluttering his long lashes and looking away. He takes it achingly slow, so slowly that he thinks it’s teasing him more than it teases Buck, moving his hips in slow circles and showing just a little more skin with each pass of his hands before finally pulling his shirt off and dropping it to the floor. Steve thumbs open the button on his jeans and drags the zipper down, down, down. He takes so long with it he’s pretty sure he can hear each individual tooth clicking in release. He lets his hand graze across his dick where it strains against his underwear, and he knows Bucky’s watching because he groans from across the room.
“I changed my mind. Hurry up.” Bucky’s voice is low and wrecked but it’s still commanding. He’s used to being obeyed.
“Naw,” Steve says with a grin, thumbing the waistband of his jeans suggestively but not actually moving to take them off. “You said you wanted a show.” Bucky’s off the bed and closing the distance before Steve can say another word and suddenly Buck’s bare chest is pressed up against his own. He groans against Bucky’s mouth, lips parting to allow that tongue to slide in and taste him, and it’s possible it’s even better than he remembered. It’s only been seventeen days, but it feels like so much longer. He’s panting and breathless before Bucky lets him come up for air, and the breath he does have is punched out of him when Bucky jerks his pants down in a sharp, quick tug and then tosses him onto the bed with no warning. He lands hard, but Steve can’t be bothered to complain. The second he lands, Bucky is on him. He’s tugging Steve’s legs free of his pants, his underwear, and then sliding his palms up Steve’s thighs as he settles between them. Bucky gives him a mischievous glance before sinking down to mouth at Steve’s cock. His lips are hot, his tongue slick and wet, and Steve forgets everything he wanted to do to Bucky. In this moment, all he can think about is what he wants Bucky to do to him.
“God damnit Buckm your mouth feels so good,” he moans. Bucky just hums around his dick, taking the whole thing deep into his throat for a moment before pulling back to trace his tongue in slow circles around the head. He wraps his left hand, the metal one, around everything his mouth isn’t covering, and he starts to work them in tandem. Steve drops his head back onto the pillow and groans loudly. “Fuck….”
“’M gonna fuck you so hard,” Bucky promises. He flicks his tongue across the head of Steve’s dick one more time for good measure, then reaches into the nightstand for the lube. He hooks one of Steve’s legs over his shoulder and goes to slick up his right hand, the one he was born with, but Steve stops him.
“Use the other one?” Steve asks, just a hint of shyness creeping in to his voice. He’s never been able to vocalize why, not really, but there’s something about Bucky’s metal arm that gets him so worked up, so hard. Bucky doesn’t say anything, just switches the leg he’s got draped over his shoulder and pushes a single metal digit against Steve’s opening. It’s cold and hard and unyielding, and he flinches at the shock of cool metal against his skin but Bucky circles his rim persistently until he relaxes and he can nudge past the puckered muscle. Steve sighs softly, his cock leaking precome against his belly, and revels in the delicious stretch as Bucky coaxes his body to accept the intrusion.
Bucky drapes his body over Steve and practically folds him in half in an effort to get their mouths together. It’s fierce and sloppy and full of all the pent up sexual energy they’ve been harbouring during their time apart. Steve knows Bucky’s gotten himself off while he’s been away, and Steve certainly took care of business when he could steal enough time and at least reasonable certainty that he wouldn’t be interrupted, but it’s just not the same. His own hand doesn’t have the same appeal as Bucky’s mouth, or even Bucky’s hand. It’s certainly nothing compared to the feeling of Bucky’s fingers stretching him open. He’d give up jerking off forever in favour of letting Bucky touch him if it came down to it. There wouldn’t even be a question.
By the time Bucky works up to three fingers, Steve is nearly incoherent. He sighs and whimpers, so responsive even when he can't think straight, and he moves almost by instinct to let Bucky drive deeper into him. Each time Bucky’s fingers plunge and twist it sends thrills up his spine. The metal is warm by now, but it doesn’t yield quite the same way and the exquisite stretch of it is the kind of thing he’s stayed up nights fantasizing about the whole time he’s been away.
“You ready for me, Stevie?” Bucky taunts. He curls his fingers and sends sparks through Steve’s whole body. Bucky chuckles when Steve cries out, wordless and broken, and then rubs against that spot again. Steve’s back arches off the bed, driving his hips down and he rides Bucky’s fingers desperately for as long as Bucky lets him. Apparently that’s enough of an answer.
Bucky slicks his cock up and slides into Steve impatiently. For a moment, all either man can do is suck harsh breaths and drown in the intensity of it. Then Bucky draws back until only the head of his cock is nestled in Steve’s ass and snaps his hip forward. There’s no gentle thrusting, no slow build. He’s fucking into Steve hard and sharp right from moment one, and Steve is swept away with the tide of it. His eyelids flutter and his mouth hangs open, and all he can do is fist his hands in the sheets and cry out his pleasure.
“Fuck!” Bucky groans. “So fucking tight!” His hips drive in to the back of Steve’s thighs. “Been gone so long, baby,” he breathes, low and sultry. “Almost forgot how good you felt.”
“If you can even get close to forgetting,” Steve manages, though his words are strained and broken. “Then I’m off my game.” And he wraps his legs around Bucky’s hips, locking his ankles, and starts to grind his hips in time with Bucky’s thrusts. It takes Bucky deeper and Steve loves it, but he knows that Bucky loves it too. “Jogging your memory?” he teases as Bucky digs his fingers into Steve’s thighs.
“You’re a fucking punk, you know that?” Bucky replies. There’s sweat beading on his muscular chest, and the muscles of his core tense and flex beneath his skin with each thrust. Steve thinks he’s beautiful, scars and all. He wants to run his hands over all those muscles, press kisses all over that skin, run his reverent tongue over all the scars until Bucky forgets that they ever hurt.
Steve’s arms reach up, grabbing at Bucky, and drag him forward until he falls onto his hands and leans in close enough that Steve can reach his mouth. He can’t fuck as hard like this, but Steve gets to kiss him this way, and that makes up for it. He loves the way Bucky kisses, fierce and possessive, and Steve gets his fingers tangled in the long strands of Bucky’s hair to keep him pressed close as they move together.
For a moment, Steve thinks this is how it’s going to go down: Bucky fucking him into the mattress, hard, short strokes, their mouths pressed together, and Steve coming untouched with his cock trapped between their bellies. It’s been long enough since he’s had Bucky filling him up that it’s not a stretch to imagine it being enough to get him off. But then Bucky is snaking his right arm around Steve’s back and hauling him off the mattress and before he knows what’s happening he’s straddling Bucky’s hips and Bucky has his feet planted, thrusting up into Steve as a startled moan escapes his throat.
Steve is totally on board for this. It feels fucking amazing to rock himself down onto Bucky’s cock, rolling and grinding his hips to angle it right where it feels best. And he gets the best view of Bucky spread out beneath him. He pushes away from Bucky’s mouth reluctantly and sits up tall and starts to move in slow circles, wiggling and grinding just the way Bucky likes. And Bucky definitely likes. He reaches his hands down to grip hard at Steve’s legs and throws his head back to moan low and filthy. It eggs Steve on, watching how he can break Bucky apart with these slow motions, and he’s keeping his eyes on Bucky’s face because he just can’t get enough.
Gradually, the roll of his hips morphs and changes, until the teasing grind has become aggressive and he’s practically bouncing on Bucky’s dick, thrusting himself down to take it hard and deep while he spills out whorish moans. Every few times he rises up and slams down, Bucky’s cock brushes against his sweet spot and Steve cries out. And Bucky just watches intently as Steve rides him, the delicious pink colouring spreading from his cheeks down to his chest until he’s flushed from exertion and arousal everywhere Bucky can see. And he just can’t help himself any longer, he’s absolutely got to get his hands on Steve, so he slides his metal hand over Steve’s thigh to wrap tight around Steve’s cock.
Steve groans out with pleasure when he feels Bucky take him in hand. “Fuck, yes,” he breathes, hoarse and raw and wrecked. As much as he loves locking eyes with Bucky when they’re together like this, Steve has to tear his eyes away and watch those bright silver digits stroke his hard and leaking cock. It does things to him, the sight of it. It makes his heart race, makes his blood boil. Bucky knows this. He can’t help but notice the way Steve’s breath quickens at the sight of it.
“You like that?” Bucky rasps, even though he knows the answer. He likes to get under Steve’s skin whenever he can. He tugs roughly, knowing how close Steve is by the way his mouth hangs open and his breath comes in desperate gasps. “C’mon baby, been waiting way too long for this. Come for me, Stevie.”
It only takes a few more strokes before Steve complies. Thick ropes of come spill over Bucky’s fingers and paint his belly as Steve cries out, coming with Bucky’s name on his lips. He never stops slamming himself down on Bucky’s dick, not even as he shudders with the intensity of his orgasm. His entire body tenses as he fucks himself on Bucky’s cock, and just as the last waves of pleasure start to subside Bucky snaps his hips upwards and comes with a shout.
“Fuck, yes!” he cries, working his hips in sharp, jerky motions as he fills Steve up. It’s almost enough to get Steve hard again even as the aftershocks are making his muscles lax and his nerves twitchy. He’s still breathing hard by the time he flops onto the bed beside Bucky, chest rising and falling heavy as he reaches out a hand to touch Bucky’s hip. Just a single point of contact to keep them connected, to keep him grounded as he comes down from the high.
“You were supposed to be home days ago,” Bucky says petulantly when he can finally form words again. Steve turns his head to look at Bucky with a furrowed brow.
“Yeah, the op took longer than we expected. You know how it is. You weren’t worried, were you?” Now Steve feels guilty. It’s not like he had the option of contacting Bucky while he was out there but he regrets not pushing harder to get a message through.
“Nah,” Bucky says, dismissively, and suddenly Steve gets it. It’s not that Steve wasn’t here that’s the problem. It’s that Bucky wasn’t there. “Just hate goin’ that long without getting my hands on you.” And Steve can’t argue with that, because honestly, he feels the same way.