Work Text:
Steve was hardly through the front door before Bucky was on him, wrapping him in a hug so tight he could barely breathe. And hey, who needed ribs when you had a Bucky?
“Too fuckin’ long,” Bucky muttered, the words muffled against the material of Steve’s suit.
It had been, he knew. Duty called, and duty didn’t care about their newfound domestic bliss, nor was it especially concerned with their comfort. Duty meant weeks apart, aborted communication, and Bucky’s temper worsening every moment Steve was gone. Steve had come straight from the quinjet to their apartment, hadn’t even stopped for a debrief (pissing Maria off in the process), but he’d still been gone nearly two weeks.
Two weeks was a long time when you were Bucky, who wasn’t good at being alone - tended to get lost in his own head.
“I know, pal.”
He brought a gloved hand up to run through Bucky’s hair, just as Bucky gave his neck a vicious bite. Steve grinned, even though it hurt - Bucky’s personality shone through more and more these days. His old personality - Steve’s jerk.
Lovable, yes. Charming and obnoxious in equal measure? Usually.
“Hey!” He tugged on Bucky’s hair, pulling him back only to find a feral grin on his face. “What, you think that’s funny?”
“Missed the fuck outta you, Rogers.”
Steve cocked an eyebrow. “So what, you missed me so much you forgot your manners?”
Bucky’s grin widened, which meant he was in for whatever Steve had planned. They were still taking things slowly with the rules, the following orders, playing games. Bucky insisted it was good for him, and Steve had pushed past his initial reservations to find genuine pleasure in taking control. They were still figuring out the dance, and more often than not they ended up trodding on each other’s toes. Still, it was fun learning the steps.
“Guess so, sir.” Bucky bit out the formality in a way that sent a pulse of pleasure right to Steve’s gut.
“Been waitin’ a while, huh?”
Bucky nodded, and damn if he wasn’t good at making himself seem vulnerable when they both knew he was anything but. Steve took a step forward, kicking the front door shut with his foot before crowding Bucky up against the wall of the foyer. He caught Bucky’s chin with his left hand, squeezing a warning. “Gonna make you wait a little longer.”
Steve could see him gearing up for a complaint - whining was one of the few unattractive qualities he possessed. Cutting him off at the pass, Steve shook his head firmly before leaning in for an unyielding kiss.
It was only when Bucky surrendered, his body going pliant under Steve’s authority that he released him, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Get your clothes off and wait in the living room. And don’t even think about touching yourself - I’ll know if you do.”
“Yeah?” Bucky said, eyes bright. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
Steve nearly laughed - he’d call Bucky a brat if the term didn’t seem slightly undignified for a guy who’d been through what Bucky’d been through. Regardless, he was fishing, and Steve wasn’t about to bite.
“I’ll go to bed,” he said, watching as Bucky’s smirk turned into a glower. “Don’t think I won’t. Anyhow, I seem to recall giving you an order, Buck…”
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Bucky sighed, turning on his heel.
Steve couldn’t resist grabbing his hand, pulling him back in for another kiss and smiling against those full lips. “Missed the fuck outta you, too, sweetheart.”
Consistently hot showers were Steve’s second favorite thing about the twenty-first century - Bucky in his bed every night being the first. Standing under the scalding hot water, he felt like a new man, rinsing off the dirt and grime of the mission before getting dressed in a loose pair of sweats and a t-shirt.
He deliberately made a fair bit of noise when he left the bedroom, puttering around the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water, making Bucky wait.
(Bucky, who could sit motionless for hours on end looking through the scope of a rifle, but couldn’t sit still for twenty goddamn minutes when his dick was involved.)
Steve entered the living room to find Bucky kneeling on a cushion in front of the couch, facing forward, palms on his thighs, curtain of hair falling around his face. The brattiness, Steve was pleased to see, seemed to have been abandoned - he was naked, as requested, half-hard, but with no apparent signs of having touched himself to get that way.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Buck,” he said, crossing the room and setting the water down before turning his attention to his partner.
It would be easy to mistake Bucky’s posture for one of disinterest, but Steve could feel the nervous energy emanating from him, his live wire. He considered for a moment before sitting on the couch, placing one leg on either side of Bucky’s body. The shower had given him ample time to think about what to do, and the plan he’d decided on seemed as good an idea as any.
He reached out a hand to stroke Bucky’s hair, drawing out a shiver and a sigh.
“You wanna turn around for me?” he asked, tapping Bucky’s shoulder twice.
Bucky did as he was told, maneuvering himself as gracefully as he could until he was facing Steve, still on his knees, still with his head bowed. Steve never made any hard or fast rules about where Bucky could look, so Bucky usually defaulted to looking down. He preferred not to think about why that was. Instead, he placed two fingers under Bucky’s chin and lifted his head.
“Hi,” he said, giving him a smile.
Bucky matched his expression, nuzzling into Steve’s palm when he lay it against his cheek. “Hi.”
“I was gone a while, wasn’t I?”
“Yup.”
Steve sighed, moving his other hand up to tap Bucky’s temple with his index finger. “You ah...buzzing in here?”
A nod, Bucky cutting his eyes away. Buzzing was the best word he had to describe the anxiety, the demons, the things that ate him up when he was on his own too long - the obstacles he put in his own path that Steve was determined to help him tear down.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. Hey, go get me that book I was reading before I left. It’s on my nightstand.”
The abrupt instruction and change of course was a surefire way to get Bucky out of his head - keep him guessing. Bucky obediently rose to his feet to do as he was told. While he was on his errand, Steve rearranged himself, pushing his sweats down just enough that his cock was exposed. Still soft, thanks to the judicious application of cold water in the shower. Normally that would have been the opposite of the desired outcome, but this was a special circumstance.
Bucky wasn’t gone long, sliding back into the room with Steve’s book tucked under his arm. It was an interesting book - a history of the Korean War. He’d need something engaging for this to work.
Bucky stopped short when he noted Steve’s relative state of undress, smiling brightly and licking his lips. So predictable.
“Eyes up here, pal,” Steve said, snapping his fingers. “Put a record on, whatever you want, then bring me the book.”
Whatever surprise Bucky might have felt at the instructions didn’t show on his face. He walked over to the stereo and crouched down to pick out an album. Steve wasn’t above admiring the view - his boyfriend was a looker, and Steve was a lucky son of a bitch.
Bucky picked out the album he wanted, putting it on the turntable; the notes of Chopin’s Nocturnes filled the room, making Steve smile. Bucky had developed an obsession with classical music - it made sense to him, he said, helped keep things straight in his head.
Once the music was playing, Bucky came straight to him, settling on the floor between his splayed thighs and handing over the book, all the while chewing on his bottom lip.
“Good boy,” Steve said. Bucky’s shoulders stiffened at the praise, unused to it after all this time “Look at me.”
Bucky did, curious, as Steve placed the book on the couch.
“The thing is...I’m tired, Buck,” he said, lifting his left hand and placing it on Bucky’s cheek. He shifted his weight, bringing his other hand to wrap around the base of his prick. “It’s been a long goddamn couple weeks, and you’ve been real good at waiting, but…I’m just tired.”
“So you want a suck job?” Bucky asked, confusion written across his features.
“Not exactly,” Steve said. “I’m gonna sit here, long as I want, read my book, and relax. You’re gonna wrap that smart fuckin’ mouth of yours around my prick and hold it there until I say you can stop.”
Bucky licked his lips. Shit, his fucking mouth - it was going to be a herculean effort not to get hard. “You...just want me to…hold it?”
“Didn’t think I’d need to repeat myself.” Steve raised an eyebrow, and Bucky’s mouth fell open - an auspicious start. “There you go, just like that. Not so difficult.”
Bucky fluttered his eyelashes - didn’t bother closing his mouth - and Steve had to wonder if he knew how attractive he was when he did shit like that.
“Here, baby,” he murmured, drawing Bucky down towards his lap and easing him onto his cock, a shudder rippling through him at the sensation - the warm, wet heat of it all. “God, that’s good, just like that.”
Bucky swallowed around him, hands clenched into fists on his thighs, shoulders tense.
Steve sighed, brushing a hand through Bucky’s hair. It was always a struggle to relax him properly - to get him in the headspace where he gave any consideration to his own well-being. “Put your arms where they’re comfortable, Buck.”
Bucky tried a few different positions before both arms came to rest on Steve’s thighs, hands bracketing his waist. The position was sweet, allowing Bucky to very nearly hug him. The metal of his left arm was cold at first, but Steve knew from experience that body heat would warm it up.
“If you need to stop, you pull off and tell me so.” Bucky made a noise of assent and Steve groaned, his cock twitching with interest at the sensation. “Jesus, don’t try and get me hard, alright? Not your fuckin’ job right now.”
Bucky tensed - Steve imagined he didn’t want to make any noise after the warning. Smart. “You wanna say yes, tap with your left hand. No, use your right. Got it?”
Left tap.
“So good for me.” Smiling, he brushed a hand through Bucky’s hair before continuing. “When the record finishes, get up and change it - you don’t need my permission for that, so long as you get right back on your knees once it’s done.” The capacity on any given LP was between twenty and twenty-five minutes - Steve figured that’d give Bucky the chance to stretch his legs, work his jaw, and still be of service. “You understand?”
Left tap.
“Thanks, Buck,” he said, as though Bucky were doing him a favor. Bucky huffed out a breath through his nose. Steve grinned and picked up his book, determined to make things last.
The funny thing was, he realized a few minutes into the experience, he could concentrate on the book, even with Bucky practically nursing at his dick, all soft tongue and sweet mouth. The sensation was always there, but eventually faded to more of a fuzzy, background pleasure. There was something soothing about it, even, flicking through the pages, imagining himself somewhere else, occasionally reaching out to pat Bucky’s head but otherwise giving him no acknowledgment.
Quiet wasn’t unusual for Bucky when they played - he tended to get nonverbal, follow orders, real submissive and pliant. Steve had initially worried he was triggering some latent HYDRA protocol, fucking Bucky’s mind up worse than it already was. Bucky had been quick to reassure him, telling him it wasn’t that at all - he just preferred not having to think, liked letting Steve make all the big decisions. He trusted Steve, knew he wouldn’t hurt him. Steve took him at his word, but he was careful all the same. Besides, being gentle with Bucky came easy - something about second chances, probably, if he'd bothered to analyze it.
The record ended after four Nocturnes (or whatever they were called; Steve wasn’t the classicist in their relationship), the needle setting itself back into its cradle. Bucky took a moment to stir - long enough that Steve wondered if he’d have to remind him of his chore - lifting his head from Steve’s lap and swiping at his mouth. Neither of them bothered to be embarrassed about the not-inconsiderable amount of saliva involved in the process. Steve looked up from his book, watching Bucky as he got slowly to his feet and padded across the room to flip the record. He was much more relaxed than he’d been before, a charming, dopey smile on his face when he turned around and came back, sinking to his knees and wrapping his mouth around Steve’s cock again.
Things continued in that vein, Bucky’s tension ebbing further every time he dropped his head back into Steve’s lap. Steve had the harder job, resolutely fighting his traitorous dick at every turn. He was losing the battle, having grown to half-mast in Bucky’s mouth. For his part, Bucky had been a champ and hadn’t done a thing to encourage it, save for being himself.
Steve risked a glance at his watch after the fourth time Bucky changed the record over - they’d been going nearly an hour and a half. The weird rush of pride that coursed through him almost made him laugh - sure, Bucky was making progress, but how precisely did one quantify this type of accomplishment?
(No, doc, I still got the nightmares and the panic attacks, but last week I held Stevie’s prick in my mouth for ninety fuckin’ minutes straight. That’s something, right?)
Setting his book down, Steve brought a hand up to run through Bucky’s hair, twisting the locks around his fingers and tugging lightly to get his attention. “Happy?” he asked.
Left tap. Good news.
“Wanna stay down there? Finish me off like that?”
Left tap, then right tap. Yes and no. Funny guy.
“You wanna finish getting me hard?”
Left tap.
“Uh huh, but you don’t want to finish me off like this?”
Left tap, which Steve had to assume was an agreement with the “don’t want” part.
“So...how about I let you get me going, then we head to bed, and I show you just how much I missed you?”
Left tap. Left tap. Left tap.
Steve loved the hell out of Bucky, he really did.
“Alright then, sweetheart, show me how much you want it.”
Bucky was a marvel with his mouth when he wanted to be, hollowing his cheeks and pressing his tongue to the underside of Steve’s prick with an intensity that had him jerking his hips, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto. He ended up ripping a throw pillow. They went through a lot of throw pillows. (And, Steve was ashamed to admit, dining room tables.)
But Christ, the sounds Bucky made - fucking obscene noises that drove Steve wild, had him thickening up, grunting as he fucked into Bucky’s wet mouth. How he had any saliva left in there, Steve didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. (So to speak.)
“Fuck, fuck,” he muttered eventually. “Get off, Bucky, I’m gonna…”
He didn’t have time to finish the sentence before Bucky sat back on his heels, lips swollen, chin slick, eyes gleaming. Goddamn debauched - Steve wanted to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
And he could, that was the best thing. He pulled Bucky in, crushing their lips together in a rough, wet embrace, nothing dignified about it. He released him with a push, sending him sprawling back, legs splayed. He was hard, prick resting against his stomach like an invitation.
“Go to bed, right now,” Steve said, voice hoarse.
Bucky didn’t waste time. Steve intended to be right on his heels but ended up tangled in his own sweats. Clothing was overrated. By the time he stripped and made it to the bedroom, Bucky was sprawled face down on the bed, bottle of lube placed pointedly on the mattress.
“Think I can’t take a hint?” Steve teased, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“It’s been two fuckin’ weeks, Stevie,” Bucky said, turning his head so he could see Steve properly.
“I’m well aware.” Steve picked up the lube, using his other hand to slap Bucky lightly on the ass. “You cleaned up?"
Bucky fixed him with a glare that indicated he thought Steve was the world’s biggest buffoon. So: yes. Asshole.
Any other night, he might have gotten on his knees for a proper inspection - licked Bucky open sweet and slow until he had him writhing and begging for it. Wasn’t happening tonight, though, not with the amount of literal cockteasing he’d had to endure.
He slicked up two fingers and pressed them against Bucky’s entrance, breaching him carefully. Bucky squirmed at the sudden intrusion, hissing and wriggling away from the burn before pushing back against Steve’s hand. Typical Bucky - ‘no thanks’ followed immediately by ‘yes please.’ Steve smiled, working him open carefully, pressing in and hooking his fingers to seek out the...yup, there it was. Bucky let out a noise that was somewhere between “guh” and “ungh” which was pretty hilarious, even if Steve knew better than to laugh at him in the heat of the moment.
“Fucking do it, Steve, come on,” he bit out a few minutes later. “I’m ready.”
“You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be doing what I tell him, you sure are bossy…”
“By all means, punish me for it later and stick your dick in me now,” Bucky groaned.
Steve rolled his eyes at the dramatics, withdrawing his fingers and giving Bucky one more slap on the ass for good measure. Bucky canted his hips up in response - and yeah, that was a pretty picture. Steve draped himself over Bucky’s body, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders before reaching down to line himself up and push in. It wasn’t the most comfortable angle, but Bucky had a thing about being covered up and fucked. Steve couldn’t resist indulging him.
It became apparent fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to last long - he already felt that anxious, prickly way he did when an orgasm was imminent. His stamina was a hell of a thing, but he was only human, and Bucky’d worked him up pretty good. Still, it didn’t seem fair that he was the only one having a good time, so he nipped at Bucky’s earlobe to get his attention.
“Touch yourself, Buck. If you don’t come before I do, you don’t get to come at all.”
“Jesus,” Bucky whined, reaching for the lube before worming his hand between his stomach and the mattress. Steve had to give him an A for effort - he didn’t have much space to maneuver, but he was giving it his best shot, writhing against the bed, stroking himself frantically.
“M’close...better hurry,” Steve teased, even as he slowed the rhythm of his hips, taking some pity on him. “Don’t mess this up…”
“Fuuuuuuck,” Bucky groaned. His hips were out of syncopation with Steve’s now-shallow thrusts, desperation driving him as he fucked his fist. When he came, it was with a shout, body tensing then shuddering as he spilled onto the comforter. Shit, they should have put a towel down. Ah, well.
“You done?” Steve asked once Bucky’s tremors had subsided.
“Uh huh.”
Steve grinned, licking a stripe up the back of Bucky’s neck before pushing inside him again with considerable force. Bucky groaned as Steve set a pace, rough and urgent, every thrust driving him hard against the mattress. Steve loved this, all the stupid, primal parts of fucking. How much he wanted Bucky - not just to love him, but to claim him, mark him, show the world that he was Steve’s, and nobody else could have him. Which was, of course, ludicrous - Bucky was his own person, a fact of which Steve was well aware.
But, hell, he couldn’t always be rational. Sometimes, lust won out, and when his climax hit he bit Bucky’s shoulder hard enough to make him yelp, hands scrabbling at the mattress.
“You fucking vampire,” Bucky said as Steve rolled off, both hating and loving the sound and sensation of their bodies separating. “The fuck was that?”
“Bucky…” he laughed. “Shut up.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, unable to keep the grin off his face as he turned onto his side and pillowed his head on Steve’s outstretched arm. It would have been nice to fall asleep like that, Steve mused, but they were sticky, the bed was disgusting, and he was starving.
“Hey,” he nudged Bucky. “We gotta clean up. C’mon.”
They cleaned themselves up, then stripped the bed before remaking it with fresh sheets. There was a minimal amount of grumbling from Bucky, who was sent to the laundry room as ‘punishment’ while Steve went to get food. The fridge was stuffed full of the leftover takeout Bucky had subsisted on for the past fortnight. That was fine with Steve - he picked out a couple containers of Chinese food and brought them back to the bedroom along with chopsticks and two bottles of water.
By the time Bucky returned from getting the laundry going, Steve was already halfway through the container of sesame chicken. He knew it was Bucky’s favorite, but it was Steve’s favorite, too, and he was the one who’d been infiltrating a terrorist cell for the past two weeks. Ipso facto: he got first dibs, and Bucky could pout like a kid all he wanted.
“Ass,” Bucky said, crawling under the covers and reaching for the lo mein instead.
“Didn’t think you’d mind,” Steve said. “Seeing as you’ve had more than a mouthful tonight.”
Bucky snorted into his noodles before headbutting Steve’s shoulder.
Steve was happy to be home.