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Steve knows he's going soft, but he doesn't wake up until he feels the cold metal on his skin and hears the click of the handcuffs. Bucky is laughing at him, and his fingers are warm, tracing the fragile skin of his wrists under the steel.
"You only got one hand there, Bucky," Steve says, opening his eyes and looking up at Bucky's face. His eyes are sparkling and his mouth is smiling and bitten red from last night.
"I only need one hand, Steve." Bucky says, and Steve really really hopes that he didn't borrow these cuffs from Tony. First of all, that would be awkward, but secondly, who knows how Stark could have enhanced them?
But when he tests them, he feels the metal start to bend - normal cuffs, then - and doesn't try to break them. Bucky puts his hand in the middle of his chest, and swings his leg over to straddle Steve's stomach. Steve pulls his feet up, bracing Bucky with his thighs.
Steve grunts a little, thankful that he doesn't have to ask Bucky to hold back. He likes the weight of Bucky on top of him. He's solid and warm, and there and that's about all Steve could ask for.
Bucky scoots back a couple of inches, and rubs along Steve's getting-more-interested-by-the-second dick. Steve wraps his hand around the outside of Bucky's thigh, and rubs his thumb along the skin just above where he is bracing himself over Steve.
He could break the cuffs and turn Bucky over and fuck him until they're both boneless and sore. He's going to let Bucky revel in the knowledge that they could have it that way, and for both of them it would be fine, but Steve is letting him have this way. All that power kept on a leash because Steve wants what Bucky wants.
He wraps his right hand around one of the rods in the headboard. Bucky sees, and leans down, whispers "Good boy" into Steve's ear. Steve shivers, because he won't let himself whimper. Bucky bites his ear - a nip really - his breath hot and his tongue, when he licks the bite, hotter. Steve actually does whimper.
He wants to hold Bucky there. To have Bucky whisper dirty things in his ear and bite until the shell of his ear is red, and Bucky is rutting against his stomach until they're both sated and sticky. He wants to push his hand into Bucky's hair and hold him there so Steve can return the favor.
He keeps his hand where it is.
Bucky pulls away, and his neck is cold, but he doesn't complain. He looks down at Steve, and Steve knows what he's seeing. His face is open and flushed. His mouth is open too, and he'd be alright if Bucky kissed him, deep and open and filthy like he was trying to crawl inside. He doesn't, though, and he laughs as he pushes up and away from Steve's body altoghether. He makes a half-choked whimper of protest before he realizes that Bucky is just moving down the bed, sliding between Steve's knees. Steve fists his hand in the sheets. No touching, he thinks.
Bucky's mouth is hot on his stomach, where his lips catch in the hair just below his navel. Steve's stomach contracts, and he feels more than hears Bucky's chuckle. His head moves over, to the right, and starts nipping at the line of muscle along his hipbones, and Steve is trying very hard not to thrust and stab Bucky in the neck with his erection. He turns his face away, so he doesn't do something that will get him in trouble.
Bucky presses a smile into his skin, and mumbles "Mmm," he nuzzles Steve's hip a little, " you're being so good for me, aren't you?" And Steve can't answer, but when Bucky starts to pull away, he chokes out a desperate "Yes," and Bucky is smiling again. He pulls away again, and makes little disapproving noises when Steve tries to protest, so he stops.
Steve has his eyes closed, so it surprises him when Bucky's mouth touches his dick. He snaps his head around, eyes wide to meet Bucky's. His eyes are bright and sparkling, and his mouth is slick and hot on the side of Steve's dick.
He laughs, and the puffs of breath sends little electric shocks through Steve. The heat is gathering in his toes, and he tries to push it back, as much as he can. Bucky chooses that moment to flick his tongue out, and lick a strip up Steve's dick. Steve can feel his calves start to cramp, he's clenching so hard.
“Relax,” Bucky says, his lips brushing the head, and slides his mouth down, opening and opening. Steve's muscles strain, and he forces his toes to uncurl because he doesn't actually want a leg cramp. He adjusts his grip on the headboard, and he can feel it when Bucky reaches the point where he can't go down any farther. He can practically taste Bucky's disappointment. Instead, Bucky drags his mouth dear god his mouth up and then push back down, determined.
Steve doesn't have any words for him, can't tell him what to do, because there's a block on his words. He doesn't know what it is, but it's like it's so good he can't talk or breathe. He must sound like a dying fish, because he's doing this gasping thing where every few seconds he'll remind himself that he has to breathe.
The serum will save from a lot of things, but not breathing isn't one of them.
He feels Bucky go all the way down, and then a little farther. He's looking at the way that Bucky's hair falls across his forehead, because that's all he can see. He can see the way that Bucky's eyes are watering and dripping onto Steve's skin, warm and salty, but cooling. He can feel the wet heat of Bucky's mouth, the gusts of Bucky breathing out of his nose, the flutter of Bucky's throat around the head of his cock.
“Bucky,” he croaks, and Bucky pulls away, but not quickly enough, and Steve is coming on his own stomach. Bucky slaps his thigh, a frown on his face, and Steve's high is gone. His body is still spasming, but his mind is suddenly out of it. He notes, almost clinically, that he's finished coming, and Bucky is still looking at him disappointed, but in the back of his mind he's watiting for Bucky to realize he's still hard.
It doesn't even make sense, but he is.
Bucky's mouth is a spit and come shiny moue of surprise. Bucky's hands slide up Steve's thighs, and suddenly he's back into it, the hot slide. He knows these fingers. He knows these fingers, in some ways, better than his own. Bucky swipes his tongue up Steve's stomach, roughtly cleaning the come off.
He crawls up Steve's body, settling himself back over Steve's pelvis, a mirror of his position before. He rolls his hips back, his hands braced on Steve's chest and makes a noise that Steve doesn't classify as a mewl, because he doesn't want to get punched in the face later. It may not hurt him forever, but Bucky packs a punch like a linebacker.
“Lube,” Steve gasps, because he's not so lost in it that he doesn't forget that he could hurt Bucky.
Bucky bites his lip and shakes his head no, his cheeks flushing. He shifts his hands so that one is braced right in the dip under his pecs, his fingers splaying wide. The other hand goes back to grip Steve's dick to guide him inside. It's sweet and hot and Bucky is slick and he opens, just taking and taking. Steve's hips make an aborted movement upward, and Bucky whimpers, a broken sound and rolls back into it.
Steve realizes two things at once. One is that Bucky must have prepared himself before this whole thing started. Two is that he's bent the headboard frame. His hand is still fisted in the sheets, and his fingers are starting to forget how to move. He opens his fist, and hears the bones creak. He shakes it out before Bucky grabs it, and slides his fingers between Steve's. It should be uncomfortable, given that his hand just unclenched from a fist, but it isn't.
He pushes, and Steve braces his elbow. Bucky uses his arm as leverage to fuck down on Steve's cock, sliding up and down and rocking and generally making Steve glad that he's already come, because he can enjoy the way that Bucky is desperate for it. He's flushed, high on his cheekbones and down his throat. His head is canted back, and his adam's apple works with each gasp and groan.
He cants his hips up again, and Bucky shakes apart over him, coming and sliding and Steve catches him around the back of the neck. He gently brings Bucky down, so he's laying on Steve's chest. His hips make these little aborted movements, like he wants to get away from Steve's still hard dick, but can't take it. Steve can feel the rabbit quick thump of Bucky's heartbeat echoed in his chest, and Bucky is going boneless and saying “Yeah,” even though Steve really isn't doing anything.
Steve can't get much leverage to thrust, but Bucky keeps doing the tiny thrusting thing he's doing, and he's not hard, but he doesn't look like he wants to stop. Steve strokes the hair at the back of Bucky's neck, and thinks that he really doesn't need to come again, but Bucky's hips are insistent. Bucky bitest his collar bone, and Steve throws his head back.
His orgasm feels like it suckerpunches it in the gut, there's no warning, nothing. When he comes back down, Bucky looks tired, but satisfied. He hums, and Steve brushes his lips across Bucky's hair.
“Want me to move?” Bucky asks, sounding like the cat that got the cream.
“Not just yet,” Steve says. Bucky is warm, and he doesn't want to wrangle the blankets back on his bed.