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Late August brings with it the sticky kind of heat that hints at the thunderstorms to come after, not quite overwhelming but enough to make the air a little thicker. Heady. Bucky’s unsurprised when half-assed attempts at making plans are abandoned in favour of making out on the couch, lazy and sloppy and so damn sweet while time slips by syrupy-slow.
“Oh, baby, look at you,” Bucky murmurs against the curve of Steve’s jaw, drinking in the sight of him from every angle. Steve looks good, laid out underneath him, hair mussed against the cushions. There’s a soft patch of skin where Steve’s pulse kicks an excited rhythm and Bucky noses at it, Steve’s head lolling back to make room for him. Bucky sucks a bruise to his neck and then another, just because. Steve makes the softest sound, low in his throat, fingers of one hand sliding smoothly around the back of Bucky’s neck in encouragement and Bucky’s gonna go up in flames right here, feeling hot all over. “God damn, sweetheart,” Bucky groans, “driving me crazy here, case you ain’t noticed. Got me all fired up, Stevie. You gonna do something about it?”
Bucky has to prop himself up on one hand, then, just to look at him. Could look at him all day, truth be told. There’s nothing like it; got the best damn view in the whole world right here in this apartment.
“Yeah,” Steve says, and when he smiles it touches his whole face, his whole body, radiant. Storm clouds are crowding the evening sky outside the window, casting shadows, and yet it feels like the entire room got that bit brighter. “Yeah, maybe I will do something about it. You got any ideas?”
Bucky grins down at him. “Got plenty,” he says. “What, the heat getting to you Rogers? Too damn hot out to think straight? Seems to me like I’m doin’ all the work today while you just lie there and take it.”
He touches his thumb – flesh and blood – to Steve’s mouth, still smiling, hooking the tip of it into the corner and letting it dip inside where it’s all slippery-hot and perfect. He drags it along a fraction, smearing wet like gloss, and it looks so pretty he has to lean in and kiss him again, Steve’s satisfied hum of pleasure setting him off groaning. The guy’s unreal. Hardly a day goes by when Bucky doesn’t ask the universe how and the fuck did I ever do to deserve all this.
“Actually, I was thinking,” Steve says. He doesn’t even give Bucky the chance to reply; he’s barely opened his mouth before Steve looks him in the eye, frowns and socks him lightly in the shoulder, laughing.
“Hey,” Bucky complains, wide-eyed and innocent, “I never said a damn thing.”
“Well,” Steve counters, “you were gonna,” and Bucky concedes with a lazy half-shrug, smirking. “Anyways,” Steve continues softly, fingers tracing idle patterns across Bucky’s metal bicep, “I was thinking about -- the first time you fucked me, back in thirty-six? Like, fucked me, fucked me. It was summer and hot as hell, just like this. S’all I’ve been thinking about all day, Buck, swear to God it’s been driving me crazy.”
Bucky’s breath comes a little shorter, his tank sticking to his spine where he’s sweating right through the damn thing. “Yeah?” he breathes. “You were thinking, huh?”
He can picture some of it, that first time; flashes of memory, snapshots with no links in between. Sometimes it’s like someone’s taken an eraser to parts of his past, leaving gaps where there was writing before. Steve helps him scribble in the missing words sometimes, so it’s not all bad.
“Do you remember?” Steve says, looking up at him, gentle and happy and curious. There’s something hot and wanting in his gaze when he pulls Bucky in close, a slow sway of bodies as he pushes up on one elbow to meet him. Their lips brush together, breathing the same damp air, and Steve asks: “Do you want to?”
Bucky presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth and then sits back on his heels, putting space between them before he actually combusts. Steve pushes himself up a little, half propped up against the arm of the couch with his knees drawn up so Bucky’s kneeling between the parentheses of his legs. Hell, it should be illegal to look so fine, pinup-pretty and looking over at Bucky like he’s the most important thing.
“Do I want to remember? Or do I want to fuck you?” Bucky asks, and it comes out a little more desperate than he intends. “‘Cause I ain’t gonna be satisfied until I got both, doll. I know, I know, I’m greedy as sin, but you gotta let me have it, baby. You gonna tell me all about it before you let me in you?”
“I’ll tell you about it when you let me get a word in edgewise, Barnes,” Steve grins, knocking a bare foot against Bucky’s thigh. Bucky slides a hand around Steve’s ankle and rubs circles there with his thumb. “Rate you run your mouth it’s never gonna happen.”
“You like my mouth,” Bucky shrugs, cocky, and then adds, “did I always do that? Talk your ear off?”
He doesn’t remember too well. He thinks he might’ve.
“Hmm?” Steve says. He’s so relaxed-looking, pliant, distracted by Bucky’s hands. Christ, the things Bucky wants to do to him. “Yeah, you did. Not like now, though; got worse in your old age, sorry to say.”
Bucky gives him a look, the one that says you got some nerve calling me old, pal, and Steve just raises his eyebrows innocently. Bucky keeps his mouth shut though. He wants more than anything for Steve to start talking.
“I could tell you about it,” Steve offers, something uncertain in his smile, “but I got to thinking -- maybe more of a practical demonstration?” He pauses, and Bucky’s heart skips a beat, a flutter of excitement in his belly. “You can fuck me real nice and slow like you did that first time, we could do it all over again. If you want to. I want to, but I mean -- yeah.”
Jesus. Jesus, Bucky can’t even think. Can’t breathe right, either, and lets out a shuddering breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He shifts forward on his knees and slides a hand into Steve’s hair; grips him tight and holds him there as he presses their mouths together properly, deep and filthy until they have to break apart, panting.
Steve looks at him, eyes bright and hopeful. His voice is deep and a little rough when he speaks and it does all kinds of things to Bucky’s self control. “That a yes?”
“Fuck yes,” Bucky groans. “You’re really something else, you know that? I ever tell you that, ‘cause you are.”
“You mighta told me a couple times, yeah,” Steve says. He looks happy about it, expression soft. Bucky wants to kiss the sweet curve of his cheeks, the creases by his eyes, tuck the physical feel of his joy away into his memory where no one can take it from him.
Instead he stands up, holding out a hand to pull Steve up with him. They stumble in the vague direction of the bedroom together, Steve trying to walk and make out at the same time like it’s somehow gonna work this time even though he ain’t never managed it a day in his life before and not for lack of trying. He’s so obviously, mouth-wateringly hard though, and Bucky’s only got so much willpower. He backs Steve up against the wall and fits a leg between Steve’s thighs, mouthing at his neck and the good, clean sweat there.
“Don’t think this is the bedroom, Buck,” Steve says needlessly, head thunking back against the wall.
“I know, baby doll,” Bucky says, hands on the wall on either side of him to keep him there. “I know, but look at you.”
On a whim he rucks Steve’s tight little t-shirt up over his pecs, ignoring Steve’s squeak of surprise. Holding it there all bunched in one fist he nips at Steve’s collarbone, rubbing his thumb meanly over each of his nipples in turn until they stiffen up into sweet little peaks.
“Jesus,” Steve groans, rolling his hips. “Bucky, Buck, come on.”
“I got you,” Bucky soothes. “Oh baby doll, baby, I got you. How am I supposed to resist these, huh?”
It’s impossible for Bucky to deny Steve what he wants when he begs so pretty. He sucks at Steve’s nipple, gets it good and wet and tugs gently with his teeth, just the right amount of hurt. Steve lets out a sharp, shocked sound, cock jerking in his sweats right up against Bucky’s leg where he can feel it.
“Fuck,” Steve sighs, yielding. Bucky gives his other nipple a mean pinch, scraping a thumbnail over it for good measure. Steve grinds all up on Bucky’s leg like he’s dying for it.
Bucky could keep at him forever, quite frankly, but there are a hundred other things he wants to be doing and this wasn’t even one of them until he got distracted like always. He pulls away reluctantly, tugging Steve’s t-shirt back into place. It sticks to his skin where Bucky had his mouth on him, dampening the pale fabric and showing off the goods underneath.
Stepping back, he looks Steve up and down, taking in the whole pretty picture. God almighty; there’s a real chance today’s the day Bucky’s finally gonna be finished off, dead and gone.
“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” Steve says. Every bit of him screams impatience but he doesn’t move from where Bucky put him, shoulders to the wall.
“I’m getting to it,” Bucky reassures him. “But you gotta let me suck you off, Stevie. Just a little. Just a taste.” He runs his fingertips down the V of Steve’s hips and winds the drawstring of his sweats around his fingers just to hear his baby’s breath come quicker. His knuckles brush against Steve’s abs where his t-shirt’s ridden up. “What d’you say, doll? Minute at most, that’s all I’m asking.”
“Christ,” Steve says, breath of a laugh. Chest heaving. “Like I’m gonna say no.”
The sweats Steve’s wearing leave little to the imagination, his cock heavy and full and tenting the front. There’s a patch growing steadily darker right where his cockhead sits, lazily drip-drip-dripping onto the fabric. When Bucky drops to his knees he wants to bury his face right there, breathing in the scent of sex. In this weather, Steve’s got the right idea freeballing it. Bucky’s wearing jeans for reasons he can’t recall, but when he pops the button open and slips a hand inside his briefs to adjust himself Steve’s eyes dilate and his breath hitches so Bucky’s not complaining too much.
“Nothin’ on underneath, huh?” Bucky smirks up at him, one eyebrow raised. He toys with the waistband of Steve’s sweats, tips of his fingers sliding underneath. The sweet little wet patch gets wetter. “Thought you were gonna get lucky?”
He expects a smartass comment but instead Steve’s expression softens. He touches his fingers to Bucky’s jaw reverently. “I’m the luckiest guy I know,” he quips, smiling, and Bucky’s chest aches something fierce.
It takes Bucky several long seconds to realise he’s gazing up at Steve like some love-drunk sap. Blinking back into focus, he tugs Steve’s sweats down far enough to get at him and gives his cock a slow, squeezing pull.
“This for me, sweetheart?” Bucky says, breathing hot little gusts of air up close that make Steve twitch. “I’ll take real good care of you, treat you right.”
He takes Steve into his mouth slow and careful with a satisfied hum, Steve’s shocked little oh all the encouragement he needs. He keeps at the head for a while, a sweet little tease of suction, enjoying the weight of him on his tongue.
Steve thumbs over Bucky’s temples with gentle hands, fingers tucking a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear where it’s come loose from its tie. “Buck,” he groans quietly, “the mouth on you, I swear. Don’t tease me too long, I can’t take it.”
Fuck, Steve’s perfect. He’s so damn good. Bucky lets his cock push into the inside of his cheek, chasing the taste with his tongue. His gaze flicks upwards, eyes locking with Steve’s. He takes him deep and then deeper still, relaxing his throat so Steve can slide in all the way with a groan that makes Bucky’s toes curl.
Bucky gags just a bit, throat contracting around him, and Steve makes a choked little noise of his own, hips hitching forward a fraction before he gets himself back under control. He thinks Bucky doesn’t know how much he gets off on it, thinks he’s real subtle. Bucky knows it alright.
There’s nothing quite like it: mouth stretched wide, Steve’s hands warm and encouraging, floorboards pressing bruises to Bucky’s knees. A few long, languorous sucks get his mouth real good and wet. He knows better than to ruin the main course by overdoing it on the starter, though, and he keeps it short and sweet. A few more bobs of his head. Sloppy, just how he likes it. How they both like it.
It’s a real effort, but he forces himself to quit far sooner than he wants to. Steve’s cock slips out of his mouth all slick and pretty-looking and it’s a real trial not to give in to the urge to say fuck this and suck on him some more till he comes. Saliva drools obscenely from Steve’s cock, leaving glossy trails over Bucky’s wrist; he brings his hand to his mouth to lick it off, drags his lower lip wetly over it to clean himself up.
Steve swallows, eyes dark. Bucky stands up, tucking Steve back into his sweats as he goes. He leans in to kiss him, open-mouthed and filthy, and when he slips his tongue into his mouth he wonders whether Steve can taste himself.
“You ain’t in me one way or another in the next ten minutes, Barnes, I’m gonna be pissed about it,” Steve mumbles, manoeuvring Bucky in the direction of the bedroom and through the open door. Bucky lets himself be guided, and laughs, and kisses him just because he can’t ever get enough.
Steve breaks away from him once they get inside, peeling his t-shirt off as he backs away to sit down on the edge of the bed. Everything seems quieter now that they’re in here. Less urgent. Bucky stands in the shadows and looks his fill.
“Get over here,” Steve says softly, corner of his mouth hitching up, and Bucky goes to him, pulling his tank over his head and leaving it forgotten on the floor. Steve hooks his fingers into the waistband of Bucky’s jeans and pulls him in close and careful, placing a kiss to his abs that makes him shiver.
When Steve was littler, all that time ago, he was always looking up at Bucky. Up, up, up, driving him up the goddamn wall. Now he’s looking up at him again, affectionate, chin resting against Bucky’s stomach.
“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighs, barely more than a whisper. Sometimes Steve looks at him and the whole damn world spins faster in the best of ways. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Stevie. You just tell me how.”
Steve doesn’t say anything right away; just blinks up at him, all quiet and pleased. After a few seconds have passed he presses his lips together thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Do you remember any of it?” he asks. “The first time?”
Bucky smiles, wistful. “A little. Not a lot. You, on your back, on my bed. Under me, pretty as sin.” He cards his fingers through Steve’s hair and Steve leans into the pressure. “Just a couple seconds, that’s all I got. I can picture you and the bed and the whole damn room, but I don’t really remember what happened. Nice kinda memory, though.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Do you still want to? Remember the rest of it, I mean?”
Bucky scoffs. “You always been this dumb, or did I forget that too?” he teases, poking Steve in the forehead. “Course I want to.”
“Alright, alright,” Steve bats his hand away with a huffed little laugh. He nudges Bucky backwards to give himself room to stand up. “Just wait a minute, I need to go get something,” he adds, stealing a kiss and then heading to the bathroom. “You should get on the bed.”
“You giving me the orders now, Cap?” Bucky grins. Steve just shakes his head as he walks away, fond and a little flustered, because he gets like that sometimes even when he’s got no reason to be. Bucky tosses him a wink and a lazy salute in return.
If anything, the summer air’s even hotter and closer than it was before, and it’s a relief when Bucky finally, finally gets naked. He sprawls back on the bed with a contented sigh, closing his eyes and giving his cock a few lazy tugs to take the edge off.
He opens his eyes again when Steve comes back, propping himself up on his elbows. Steve blatantly looks him up and down without an ounce of shame about it and Christ, Bucky’s so fucking hard right now. So ready for it.
“Hey Rogers,” Bucky drawls. “No one ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”
“Guess not,” Steve smirks, stepping out of his sweats and getting one knee up onto the bed. “Hey, scoot back a little, would you? Like -- up against the headboard.”
Bucky eases himself back so he’s sitting up, and Steve throws a leg over him to straddle his thighs before leaning across to the nightstand to set something down.
Bucky slides his left hand around Steve’s little waist and peers over to see. “Vaseline?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Nice. We really are goin’ old school, we ain’t fucked with that stuff in forever.”
Steve shrugs, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, a lot changed since back then. Thought we could at least keep something the same.”
Bucky grins up at him, tightening his arm around Steve’s waist and going in for a kiss. Steve leans forward to meet him, his cock fitting up alongside Bucky’s where their bodies are pressed together. It’s too much and it’s not enough, pleasure settling liquid-hot in Bucky’s stomach.
Steve looks dazed when Bucky pulls away to look at him, skin pinking up where he’s flushed all down his neck and over his chest. Bucky smirks and Steve rolls his eyes. “What?”
“I’m just wonderin’ whose idea it was to go all the way that one night,” Bucky says, “‘cause this one’s got your name written all over it, Rogers, don’t think I don’t know that.”
Steve laughs, tipping his head back. He’s so, so beautiful. “I honestly don’t remember. But probably.”
Bucky might not remember the first time, but he knows some of the others that came after and the fooling around that came before. Bits and pieces, here and there – some from his own memory and some from Steve’s. “Christ, you were so little back then. Could just pick you up and sit you on my dick if I wanted. No problem at all. Up against the wall? Nothin’ to it.”
“Jesus,” Steve groans, grinding into him restlessly and pressing his face to Bucky’s neck. “The things you come out with, Buck, I swear.”
“Nothing but God’s honest truth,” Bucky says. “Now c’mon, are you gonna tell me some more? I’m waiting, baby doll. I’m all ears.”
Steve brushes their mouths together, lingering, and reaches over to get the Vaseline. Bucky expects him to hand it over but instead Steve lifts the cap off and gets a couple of his own fingers good and slick.
“You were gonna do it,” Steve says, smiling. “But then you freaked out on me a little, said you were worried about hurting me or doing it wrong or whatever so I promised I’d show you. I’d done it myself a couple times before for practice.”
He gets one hand on the back of the headboard, arm resting on Bucky’s shoulder, shuffling in close so he can talk real quiet even though there’s no one but the two of them to hear. Bucky can feel the moment Steve’s finger breaches his body; the way he melts into it, and the tiny hitch in his breath that follows.
“Practice, huh?” Bucky murmurs, hand at the nape of Steve’s neck drawing him in. Their foreheads press together, noses bumping. “You wait till I was out working, doll? Open yourself up to see what it was like?”
“Your side of the bed,” Steve says by way of confirmation. He moans softly, hips rolling. Two fingers. “It smelled like you. I had a real good imagination, thinkin’ up all the things I wanted you to do to me. All the ways I wanted it.”
Bucky groans, gripping at Steve’s hips with both hands. “Jesus, Stevie, you’re killing me here.”
“It don’t hurt, Buck,” Steve says quietly, like it’s nineteen-thirty-six and this is the first time. He takes Bucky’s right hand from his hip and slides the first two fingers over his tongue, getting them wet. Bucky damn near goes cross-eyed. “It don’t hurt, I promise. C’mon, you gotta put ‘em in me, you got no idea how bad I need it.”
He draws Bucky’s hand down and around, sliding his own fingers free. As tempting as it is for Bucky to go straight in there with two or more, get a little rough like Steve usually likes, he takes it slow. Watching Steve’s face, enraptured, he gently taps the wet tip of his index finger to his slick little hole and then slides it in real sweet and easy until it’s all the way inside. What he doesn’t expect is for Steve to fit one of his own fingers back alongside it.
Bucky’s brain goes blank for a good five seconds. “Holy shit,” he chokes out, “did you really do that? Me an’ you both in there at the same time?”
“Mmmhmm,” Steve grunts, distracted. Like it’s too much effort to open his damn mouth while he’s rocking his hips down in tiny movements, fucking himself on their combined fingers. Lord almighty.
“And what’d I say to that?” Bucky has to ask. His dick keeps on rubbing up against Steve’s abs and it’s driving him all kinds of insane.
“I dunno,” Steve says, brows pulled together. “Don’t think you said anything. Just looked at me with your mouth open like you’d gone stupid. Well, stupider than usual.”
“Sounds about right,” Bucky laughs. “I can believe that just fine.”
Steve slips his finger out, trailing his pinky against the back of Bucky’s hand like he’s granting permission. Bucky slides a second finger of his own in knuckle-deep to replace it, stroking him gently from the inside. Jesus, he’s so hot in there, tight and perfect. Made for him.
He can’t resist curling his fingers a little on the next upstroke, parting his fingertips and rubbing them along either side of Steve’s prostate. Steve gasps and shudders, and leaks all over the both of them, so Bucky’s claiming it as a victory.
“That ain’t fair,” Steve says, breathless. “Not at all.”
Bucky smirks at him. “Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but. Steve then makes a wildly dissatisfied noise when Bucky pulls out entirely. “Alright, Jesus, gimme a second,” Bucky says, grabbing for the pot of Vaseline. He trails three wet fingers over Steve’s hole and tilts his chin up for a kiss. “You want it?” he murmurs against Steve’s mouth. Steve makes a low noise of agreement into Bucky’s mouth and Bucky eases back inside his body with a gentle twist of his wrist that has Steve melting right into him.
“Jus’ a little more,” Steve says, hazy again. He tucks his cheek to Bucky’s neck, panting soft against Bucky’s collarbone. Sometimes he gets like this, his speech slurring together like Bucky’s fingered the coherency right outta him. It’s hotter than it has any right to be.
“I got you, baby doll,” Bucky tells him, mouth right up against his ear. He keeps on coaxing him open with one hand, the other stroking over his back and thighs, gentling. Bucky thinks maybe they should do this more often, taking it slow. It’s nice. They don’t do it enough.
He spreads his fingers inside the tight grip of Steve’s body, rubbing his thumb against his rim where it’s stretched around Bucky’s fingers. Steve’s thighs shake slightly and he swears softly under his breath. “M’ready,” Steve says, voice a low rumble that vibrates through Bucky’s chest.
And boy, is he ready. All relaxed. Bucky’s gonna be able to slide in there easy as anything, Christ.
“No you ain’t,” Bucky murmurs regardless. It’s mean, he knows, but Steve’s real cute when he’s pissed off and wanting some. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Stevie. A few more minutes, sweetheart, just to be sure.”
“You’re an asshole, Bucky Barnes,” Steve groans, fucking himself down onto Bucky’s fingers all desperate. “I said I’m good, so come on and do it already.”
He doesn’t know if it’s Steve-then or Steve-now or both talking, but Bucky sure can imagine it all those years ago. How a fella like him ever talked a spitfire like Steve Rogers into his bed he’ll never know, but he’s eternally thankful for it.
Steve nudges at Bucky’s wrist and he draws his fingers out carefully, wiping the worst of the slick off onto the bedsheets. They’re halfway to disaster anyway and only going to get worse. Then, because Steve’s actually the worst, and an unrepentant little shit about it, he shifts back on his knees and says all nonchalant, “’sides I need to get you nice and wet. It’ll go in easier.”
As always Bucky’s brain is about five seconds behind and he says, “hmm?” just as Steve ducks his head and swallows Bucky’s cock.
“Fuck,” Bucky yelps, embarrassingly high pitched. There’s nothing for it but to let his head tip back against the headboard, taking deep breaths and petting at Steve’s hair while he goes to town. When Steve lifts his head again his mouth is all apple-red and shining and Bucky’s cock is as wet as Steve promised.
Steve looks at him for a long second. “You still want to?” he asks with a soft little smile, like Bucky’s not obviously, one hundred percent dying over here. Bucky hauls him up and places a kiss to his mouth and another to his jaw in lieu of answering.
When Steve moves over onto his back Bucky goes with him, careful, kneeling between his spread legs. He splays the fingers of his left hand on the bed above Steve’s shoulder, his cock brushing up against Steve’s leg.
“I remember this part,” Bucky says, sudden and shocked. It was blurry and vague before but now it comes back to him with a jolt, a real blow to the brain. “Fuck, I remember. Nearly went off pressed against your thigh, before I even got to put it in. Just lookin’ at you, lying there looking like every wet dream I ever had, Jesus.”
Steve takes Bucky’s right hand in his own and turns it over. “Your hands were shaking,” he says distantly, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles across the hollow of his palm.
Bucky doesn’t remember whether or not he begged for it but right now, feeling like this, he can’t imagine that he didn’t. “Stevie,” he says, feeling old and young all at once, “you gotta let me put it in, doll, I can’t wait no more, I’m dying for it. I’ll be real careful, baby, we’ll take it slow. Can I?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, eyes wide, “do it, come on,” and Bucky takes himself in hand, pressing inside as gentle as he thinks he would if it were the first time.
The initial slide home is always the sweetest and this time it takes an eternity, torturously slow. Bucky gets down onto his forearms when Steve pulls him close, and Bucky kisses him deep and hot before resting his forehead against Steve’s and rolling his hips into him nice and tender. Steve hums a satisfied sound, low in his throat, and Bucky eases back and fucks into him again just to hear a repeat of it.
“Fuck, Stevie, you’re so good to me,” Bucky sighs. He rocks into him sweet, steady. “Always have been.” It’s like heaven inside him, every damn time.
He tries to imagine what it would have felt like back then, the newness of it, and the thought’s a strangely hot one – clumsy and overeager between Steve’s legs and both so fucking turned on they didn’t know what to do with themselves.
“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, pressing a smile to Steve’s shoulder. “We didn’t hardly have a clue what we were doing, did we.”
“Hell, no,” Steve laughs softly, stroking over Bucky’s hair. It feels nice. “But for that whole two minutes we made it work.”
“Fuck you,” Bucky says, and it’s hard to kiss when they’re both grinning like total idiots, giggling like the teenagers they haven’t been in the longest time, but they just about manage it anyway. “Two minutes. Jesus. Can you blame me? Look at you, Christ.” Someday Bucky's gonna have to ask him about the first time Steve fucked him in return, and every other first that glints on the edge of his memory. He's greedy for it, wants every piece of their past he can get his hands on.
Steve opens his mouth to say something but Bucky hitches his hips up a little, grinds his cock inside him deep and perfect and Steve seems to lose his train of thought completely. He pants softly, gives a couple of throaty groans when Bucky flexes his hips at just the right angle, but he’s otherwise quiet – head tipped back against the sheets, lips parted, eyes closed like he’s lost in it. He’s a dream, a fantasy come to life, always was. Still is. Bucky stares and stares and keeps at him so slow he’s going stupid with it, long, base-to-tip slides so he can feel every goddamn inch.
Time stretches out, endless, and Bucky’s aching to come but enjoying the sweet, drawn-out tease of it too much to give in yet. Heat’s prickling all down his spine, skin slick all over with sweat.
“Mm, I just remembered something else,” Steve says, and Bucky looks at him, expectant. Steve stretches out under him idly, hands over his head. Lord almighty, his shoulders. His arms these days, Bucky could weep. He gets in nice and close, knocking Steve’s legs further apart to dick into him good and deep. Steve lets out a shuddering breath. “You put me like this," Steve continues. "Held my wrists to the bed."
"Like this?" Bucky echoes, putting more of his weight onto him, wrapping his fingers around him and gently pressing his hands to the sheets. It's a bit more of a stretch than it was back then. Feels real good though. "I didn't hurt you on accident? Shit, Steve, you gotta say --"
"Course not," Steve says, laughing like he can't even imagine it. "Jesus, Bucky, no, never."
"Good," Bucky whispers, and kisses him. Kisses his mouth, and his cheeks, and his forehead, and thrusts into him just that little bit harder. "That's good."
Steve digs his nails into Bucky's hands, wraps his legs around Bucky's ass to pull him in deeper, and Bucky's not going to last much longer, couldn't if he wanted to.
"I asked for it," Steve says, sounding wrecked. His cock's trapped between the slick press of their bodies and Bucky rubs up on him real nice and deliberate. “Said you should – oh, keep doin’ that Buck, that’s good – should do it harder. Don’t you dare even think about pulling out on me Bucky Barnes, I said, I gotta know what it feels like, want you to make a mess outta me.”
God damn. Bucky’s fingers tighten on Steve’s wrists and he sees to him harder before he even realises he’s doing it. Steve rarely runs his mouth like Bucky does but when he does it’s spectacular. There’s heat licking across Bucky’s nerve endings, riding right on the edge of his need to get off. Steve’s so close though, he can tell.
“You about to come for me?” Bucky asks him, hoisting Steve’s legs up around his waist a little higher. “Yeah, you are, c’mon now, c’mon,” and he nuzzles at Steve’s neck and fucks him in short, sharp thrusts and just when Steve’s right, right there Bucky bites down, just a little, just enough.
Steve gives it up with a long, low groan, shuddering all over as Bucky mouths over the indents his teeth have left and fucks him right through it until Steve’s done, left panting and pliant underneath him. Bucky presses their mouths together, grinning, and Steve cups his jaw with unsteady hands and kisses him breathless.
There’s no point in holding back now, none at all, and it only takes a few more good thrusts before Bucky hitches up inside him, breathing hard, and comes in long, endless pulses. “Fuck,” he murmurs, rocking into him gently, cock sliding easily through the wetness there.
He’s still riding the aftershocks when he pulls out, and when he draws his hand up his cock and squeezes, a few more drops of come pearl up out of the slit. He dips forward a little again and smears it against Steve’s hole.
“Jesus, you’re filthy,” Steve says, sounding real happy about it.
Bucky presses on forward, working the head of his cock back inside where Steve’s all open and slick just to watch it disappear inside of him. “An’ you ain’t?” he says. “Oh, doll, that’s good.” He’s so sensitive he can barely stand it but Christ, it looks so good. Steve’s eyelashes flutter, his breath catching each time the head snags at his rim.
Bucky leans down for a kiss, pulling out for good this time, and then rolls off to one side, knocking their ankles together. Lord almighty, everything’s wet. His whole entire body, Steve’s, the bed. Fuck.
“So,” Bucky says finally. “How long did we manage to keep our hands to ourselves before we did it again?”
Steve thinks about it. “Like, five minutes? You jerked me off, we kissed some. Then you turned me over so we could go at it again. Twice.” Christ, what they must’ve been like; two young, stupid kids in love.
“Fuck,” Bucky groans, laughter bubbling out of him after. That sets Steve off too, but then Steve thinks everything’s hilarious when he’s just come. It’s one of Bucky’s favourite things.
For all that Bucky’s feeling lazy and content, there’s still a buzz under his skin. He’s not quite finished yet. He looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, I don’t know about you but I kinda feel like we need to be historically accurate here. If I’m getting a do-over, I should probably be getting the whole story, right?”
“Well,” Steve sighs agreeably, turning over onto his stomach with lazy, amused satisfaction so that Bucky can climb right back on and see to it soon as he’s up for it, “in the interests of authenticity, I don’t think we got a choice.”