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"Hold still, will you?" Steve says, fingers locking around Bucky's wrist. "You're making this—Bucky."
"Sorry," Bucky says, even though he's not really. Every time he moves, Steve holds onto him a little tighter, and he's feeling just needy enough right now to take that any way he can get it. Even if it's pissing Steve off and making this hurt more. "You don't exactly got a gentle touch there, pal."
"If I didn't have to hold you still and pick the glass out…" Steve grumbles. He hunches a little more over Bucky's forearm, tilting it slightly to get more light on it as he goes back to lifting shards of glass out with a pair of tweezers. "You shouldn't've got involved."
"Right, 'course not," Bucky snorts. "Shoulda let Jack and Willie go ahead and snap your goddamn arms off like twigs, is that it?"
"I was fine," Steve says with a long-suffering sigh. He's sighing, like Bucky isn't the one who walked in on his best friend about to get the ever loving shit beaten out of him for the fourth time just this month. "And don't curse with the Lord's name like that. Just cuz Ma's not here to box your ears for it, doesn't make it okay."
That's a low blow, bringing Sarah into this, God rest her soul. It's not like Bucky can argue with that, even if Steve's only getting all holy about Bucky's language because he's mad at him.
Bucky fidgets with one of the suspenders hanging from his hip, pushed aside when he took his collared shirt off to make this whole stupid process easier. "They woulda broke that bottle over your head if I hadn't been there."
"An' this is better?" Steve says, giving Bucky's arm a little shake.
This wasn't exactly what Bucky had been aiming for when he'd stormed into that dumpy little bar to get Steve out of it, but Jack Foley is an aggressive piece of shit with about twenty pounds on Bucky, and he'd managed to get Bucky on the ground just long enough for him to prick his arm up like a pin cushion.
Bucky looks at Steve, blood drying in his nose, and still bright in the split in his lip, and half wants to make him bleed again himself.
"Yes it's better, you fuckin' brat. The hell were you messing around with Jack for anyway? Why can't you ever just not pick a fight?"
"I didn't," Steve insists, like he did all the way home, in between fussing at Bucky over his arm and snarling at him for having been there at all. "Now stop, this one's real small and I can't… shit."
"Ow, you're supposed to be taking it out, not shoving it in deeper."
"You wanna do this?" Steve snaps.
Bucky huffs and leans back in his chair, a spindly wooden one from their little dining table that creaks when he moves. They've dragged two of them into the middle of the kitchen where they have the best light.
"It's my left arm, genius. You really wanna watch me stabbing at it with my right hand?"
"I really want you to hold still and stop griping at me so we can just get this done."
Bucky glares at him. Steve glares right back.
"Tell me why, then," Bucky says, leaning forward again to let Steve hold his arm on his lap and get back to work. Bucky's legs are spread in a V, with Steve fitting his knees in between them, and Bucky's just dumb enough to think he should fall onto broken glass more often. "What was it about?"
"Nothin," Steve says. His eyes are on Bucky's arm, rough little fingers turning it and then holding it tight as he spots another shard. "It doesn't matter."
"Jack Foley's three times the size of you, and if he's pickin' on you—"
"He's not picking on me, he—I had it coming. You shoulda stayed out of it, I told you that."
"What?" Bucky took a hit to the head earlier, but it wasn't that hard. Not hard enough to make him hear things. There's no way Steve Rogers—crusader for all that's good and right and just—was actually in a fight without some dumb, noble reason. "No you didn't, why would—"
"I kissed his girl, Buck," Steve says, and then he yanks out a piece of glass while Bucky sits there like a codfish and barely even feels it leave his skin. "You don't gotta look so surprised," he adds, eyes flicking up to Bucky's face for just a moment before falling back to his arm.
Bucky's not surprised. He's just jealous as all hell.
"You did not kiss Gina Farrel."
"Fine," Steve says with a shrug. "I didn't."
"You did?"
"How long we gonna do this? Either you believe me or you don't. I need you to actually hold still now please. I'm afraid this one's deep an' I don't want it to break off inside you."
Bucky holds as still as he can. Steve's hunched over him so low now that his breath is falling in little warm puffs on Bucky's skin. His hair's falling in his eyes too, just as soft and blond and pretty as Gina Farrel's is, and yeah, Bucky knows he shouldn't be thinking about his friend like that. He's known it for years, but that doesn't mean he's found a way to stop it.
"Here," he says, using his other hand to brush Steve's hair off his face. It's not long enough to tuck behind Steve's ear, so Bucky just holds it there, out of the way. "Don't push it into an artery or somethin' now."
"I almost…" Steve bites his lip and squints, angling the tweezers just so, before carefully easing out a long sliver. "There. Jesus."
"Steven."
"You coulda gotten really hurt, you idiot! You ever think about how I'd feel if you got hurt because of me?"
"You ever think about how I feel every damn time you get hurt?"
"That's my own fault though, not yours."
"Yeah," Bucky agrees. "Little asshole."
Steve grins at him, tired and a little shaky. "I'm almost finished. Couple more pieces."
Bucky nods and watches Steve's fingers, pale around Bucky's tanned wrist. Mercifully steady as he removes the last flecks of glass.
He does not think about Steve kissing Gina. Not while Steve rubs alcohol over his arm, and not while he wraps it up in gauze. Not even while Bucky's alone in their bedroom, and Steve is humming in the bathtub. He sheds his slacks and lies in his bed with his eyes closed, just thinking about Steve sitting as close as can be, fitting into place like a piece of a puzzle. He thinks about cold fingertips pressing into his skin, and bright blue eyes looking up at him. Worrying about him.
"Let's clean that again in the morning, just in case," Steve says when he comes in with wet hair and one of Bucky's white, short sleeved shirts hanging on him loosely, coming right down to the bottom of his boxer shorts so you can barely tell he's wearing them at all. He flops down on his own bed and crosses his arms behind his head.
"Sure," Bucky says. He's breathing harder than he ought to be, and he doesn't want Steve to hear him. Their beds are about a whole three feet apart, so he's got to get himself under control.
"Listen, I'm sorry, okay?" Steve says after a few minutes of Bucky breathing as quiet as he can. "It was stupid, and I'm mad you got hurt because of it."
"What happened?" Bucky asks.
"We were just talking, me and Gina, while Jack and his dumb friends were playing darts. She's had a real rough go of it lately, with her Pa gone, and both her and her Ma losin' their jobs. You know they worked at Leanne's shop."
"Yeah," Bucky says with a nod. One of his sisters worked there too, and thankfully no one was in it when the whole thing burned just about right down to the ground last month. "So let me guess, you were bein' a good listening ear, huh?"
"Guess so," Steve says. "You know Jack doesn't even know how to listen. She was cryin' a little and just grateful to have someone care, I think, and then she just…"
"Right on the lips?"
"Yep."
"How was it?" Bucky asks, chancing a quick look over at Steve and finding a little smile on his face that damn near breaks Bucky's heart. Steve deserves to look like that, smiling after a nice kiss. Bucky just wishes he could be the one to put the smile there.
"Good," Steve says. "Until Willie spotted us and called Jack over."
"No wonder he was pissed."
Steve makes a little sound of assent and turns over onto his side. Bucky does the same, because if Steve's facing away from him, then Bucky can look at him all he wants.
"Maybe she'll dump him for you," he says, even though the very thought of it makes his chest go tight. That's awful and selfish of him, because it's not like he isn't out on his own dates every Saturday night.
"Doubt it," Steve says with a little breathy laugh that makes his shoulders shake just once.
"Why not? Can't be that bad of a kisser. I know you and Betsy went at it once or twice last year."
"Shut up, Bucky. Think I need you rubbing it in my face how much experience I ain't got?"
"I was serious! You're a catch, Rogers. Helluva better catch than that brainless, shovel-faced bastard'll ever be, even if you're a terrible kisser."
"Let's stop talking about this," Steve says, sounding long suffering again. He always gets like this when Bucky's trying to extol his virtues. But that just makes Bucky do it more, even though he doesn't want Steve to get some great girl and go off and marry her, because he hates the fact that Steve doesn't think he can.
"You still mad at me?" Bucky asks.
"For swoopin' in like a great big unnecessary knight in shining armor and slicing your stupid arm up? Yeah, I am a little. You still mad at me?"
"Guess not," Bucky says. "Better reason for a fight than you've usually got."
Steve laughs again, narrow little back rising and falling. Bucky could almost reach out and stroke his fingers down the length of it. Trace the crooked path his eyes have already followed a thousand times.
"Hey. Come over here, huh?"
"What for?" Steve says. "Nothing's bleeding anymore. I'm fine."
"But you're mad, and you're not supposed to let the sun set on your anger, right? How many times did your Ma tell us that?"
"How's going over there gonna change that?" Steve asks, rolling over to face him with his standard skeptical expression already in place.
Bucky just raises his eyebrows expectantly and shoves himself a little closer to the wall to make room. Steve rolls his eyes mightily and stomps the handful of steps between his bed and Bucky's, dropping down with a sigh.
"What," he says dully.
"Ain't you just a right little beam of sunshine."
"It's past midnight, Buck. I'm an angry moonbeam and you can deal with it."
Bucky grins and throws an arm around Steve, tugging him closer. They do this sometimes. It's okay. Just a byproduct of having spent almost their whole lives together and never really getting around to changing their habits.
"Alright," Bucky agrees. "Now listen, though. I'm gonna say something, and you're not gonna interrupt me and you're not gonna argue."
"Lot of demands for someone who should be apologizing," Steve says with a snort, shoving Bucky to get him to face the other way. Steve refuses to be little spoon, and that's fine with Bucky. Probably easier to say this if they're not looking at each other anyway.
"I ain't apologizing," Bucky says firmly, once his back is to Steve, and Steve is resting a loose fist against Bucky's spine. "I'm never gonna apologize for watching out for you, and for not wanting you hurt. I'm never not gonna go after you, Steve, you understand that?"
"No, I don't," Steve says, his fist pressing now instead of just touching. "I'm not your little brother. I'm not your—I'm twenty years old, I don't need to be babied. Why can't you—"
"I'm not babying you, you dumb fuck!" Bucky snaps. "And I sure as hell don't think of you as my brother. I can't have you get hurt. I can't. I couldn't… what the fuck would I do if something happened to you, Stevie?"
Goddamnit, Bucky's twenty-one years old and his voice just cracked, and now Steve's not touching him anymore. He's moved his hand away and he's not saying a thing. Bucky tries to breathe evenly, but he feels almost like crying now. If Steve's pulling away from him just for saying this? Shit... he could have said so much more.
"That's…" Steve says finally. "That's why I'm mad at you."
"What, for caring?"
"No, for… Bucky." Steve's hand is back. His fingertips this time, soft on Bucky's waist. "Weren't you listening to me? I told you I couldn't have you getting hurt, either. Not because of me. Not when I—"
"What?" Bucky asks when Steve cuts himself off. He wishes he could see Steve's face.
"I don't… I don't need you to take care of me, Buck. But I do need you."
Bucky stays very still, with Steve's fingers light as feathers on his side. He needs Steve more than the air in his lungs, and he knows what that means for him, but what does it mean for Steve?
"You listening?" Steve says, just barely over a whisper.
"Course I am." But that doesn't mean he understands.
"Do you…" Steve makes a little sound in his throat, nervous and soft. His forehead comes to rest between Bucky's shoulder blades. "Do you get what I'm saying?"
Bucky closes his eyes tight and curls his fingers around a fistful of threadbare sheet. "Can you say it real clear for me, please?"
Steve huffs quietly behind him, breath warm on Bucky's back. "Your Ma didn't raise you to be so thick, Bucky Barnes," he says. "Turn around."
Bucky turns carefully so he doesn't knock into Steve, and then they're knee to knee and nose to nose, and Steve looks like an angel with a bloody lip in the dim yellow light of their room, with Bucky's white pillow under his cheek.
"You want Gina to dump Jack for me?" he asks, startling Bucky. "Is that what you want?"
"Wha—"
"No," Steve says, pressing three fingers over Bucky's mouth. "Wait. I'm not gonna ask you again, so you give me an answer you're sure of, you got it?"
Bucky nods, but doesn't try to speak again. What the hell is he supposed to say? The truth?
Steve's got those big, honest blue eyes locked on him, waiting, so Bucky supposes that's the only thing he can do.
"If… if that was what you wanted, then yeah," he says slowly, because that is the God's honest truth. Steve being happy comes above anything else. "Is it?"
Steve keeps holding Bucky's eyes, steady and sure like he always is, even in this body of his that can't keep up with all that strength he's got inside. He shakes his head, slow and decisive, and Bucky's heart nearly pounds itself right out of his chest.
"Okay," he says. "Okay. If you don't want it then… you should know—selfishly speaking—it ain't what I want either."
"Why?" Steve says, not even really like it's a question. More like he's just waiting for Bucky to say something he already knows, and that makes it a lot easier to do it. Especially when Steve has his fingers curled around Bucky's waist again, and he doesn't want to go out with Gina Farrel, and he's right here in Bucky's bed waiting for a truth that maybe Bucky should have given him a long, long time ago.
"Because… because you're a helluva catch, Rogers."
"You can do better than that."
"I asked you to be clear with me, remember?"
"What do you think I'm doing?" Steve says with a little smile that's just a hair too soft to be a smirk.
"Makin' me nervous as hell."
"I just told you I need you, Bucky, how much more clear can I be?"
"Say you want me," Bucky says without stopping to think it through. And then he says it again, because Steve's biting his lip and holding Bucky's waist so tight, and this is as close to the deep down marrow of the truth as it gets. "Say you want me, like I want you."
Steve doesn't even blink, he just looks Bucky right in the eye and says, "I want you."
"Well, fuck," Bucky says—because what else can you say when everything you want is suddenly just right there in your hands. Bony shoulders and pointy chin and more salt than the whole of the Atlantic, inches away and saying words right out of Bucky's dreams. "Fuck."
"That all you got to say?"
"No," Bucky says automatically. Then, "Yes," because he still can't come up with anything better. He's filled up to bursting with want, and all he can think of doing is… "Steve, shit, can I…"
Steve wiggles a little closer, tilts his chin up, and maybe Bucky shouldn't kiss him when his lip is cracked like this, but he can't stop himself either. He touches Steve's face as gently as he can, fingers just barely brushing over the swelling along his cheekbone, then slipping into the damp strands of his hair. Steve's eyes are already closed and Bucky gives himself just a moment to take this in—Steve Rogers, waiting to be kissed by Bucky Barnes—and then he presses his lips to Steve's, so soft it's like a breath.
"I'm not gonna break, Barnes," Steve growls, because of course this little shit would use their first kiss as an opportunity to be a pain in the ass.
And of course, this is exactly why Bucky loves him.
"Your lip's literally broken, tough guy," Bucky says, but he lets his hand slip down to cup the back of Steve's neck nice and tight, and he shifts closer to him so he can get a better angle before he kisses him again.
Not so soft this time, not thinking so hard about being careful, and just focusing on the fact that he's kissing Steve. Breathing him in, his heat and the crisp scent of the soap they share. Pressing his fingers to that knobby bone at the top of Steve's spine and almost choking on the realization that the next time he sees it and wants to press his lips to it, he can.
He runs his tongue along the seam of Steve's lips, tasting toothpaste and blood and Steve, until Steve makes a little sound, low and wanting in his throat, and Bucky's head just goes blank. Empty except for his awareness of Steve kissing back like he was born for this, like they've been doing it all their lives and not just wanting to. His fingers pressed hard over Bucky's chest, and his bare foot hooking around the back of Bucky's knee.
And then somehow, in the middle of this, Steve finds reason to pull back and ask, "Am I terrible?"
"What?"
"At kissing, am I—"
"No, shut up," Bucky says. "Gonna have to fight Gina off if you kissed her like this."
"I didn't," Steve says, red-cheeked and wet-lipped and more beautiful than Bucky's ever seen him. "I couldn't, I only…"
"What, Stevie?" Bucky asks, when Steve's cheeks just get brighter and his fingers are restless and twisting in the shoulder strap of Bucky's sleeveless undershirt.
"I only feel like this for you."
Bucky has to press his face into Steve's neck for a minute or so after that, with his arms wrapped around him tight so Steve's tucked right into his chest, and their legs are tangled together the way they end up sometimes in the morning when they share a bed. So much better though, because they can just stay this way. And when Bucky's throat doesn't feel so thick he can roll Steve on his back and cover him like a blanket, bracing his weight on either side of him and kissing every bit of him he can reach. The tip of his chin, and the length of his neck, and the ridge of his collarbones—bared by the loose neck of Bucky's shirt.
"You know what it does to me?" Bucky asks. "Seein' you in this?"
"Mm-mm," Steve says, even though he's got to. "Tell me."
Showing him would be easier, but maybe Bucky can do both. He sits up, straddling Steve's skinny legs, and spreads his hands over Steve's waist where the shirt's gotten rucked up enough to expose the delicate lines of his hipbones and the soft hair below his navel.
"Makes you look like you're mine," he tells him, looking down at his own hands on Steve's skin and feeling like he's got all of creation there under his fingers. He lets his palms slide under the shirt just far enough to brush Steve's ribs, and Steve makes a needy little sound behind his lips. "Like you wanna be all wrapped up in me. That what you want?"
"Yeah, Buck, I want—I… oh," Steve gasps softly. Bucky's bent down now, kissing Steve's stomach, and he feels it on his lips. The sudden rise and fall of breath.
"What do you want, Stevie?" he asks, almost calling him something sweeter instead, but not sure if Steve would hate it. He doesn't hate this, at least. His fingers are carding through Bucky's hair while Bucky kisses his way from one hip to the other, letting his teeth graze the sharp rise of bone, then running his tongue over it just to hear the low sound it drags out of Steve. "Tell me, baby, c'mon," he says, deciding to risk it.
"God Almighty, Buck," Steve says, all breathy in a way that Bucky hasn't heard before. It's not strained, not worrisome, it's just... hot. "I don't know, I don't know, I want… can you—"
Bucky nudges the waistband of Steve's underwear with his nose, and he can smell Steve, so close to him like this. The warm, clean musk of him. "Right here?" he asks, shifting down Steve's body a little more, so he can press a kiss just to the left of where the cotton has tented up and Steve is getting hard and wanting. Wanting him, holy mother of God. "This where you want me?"
Steve makes a sound that's brand new, a little moan that gets bitten off, like Steve's surprised it was coming out of him. He's nodding though, hips shifting under Bucky and fingers curling in his hair.
"You gotta say it, honey. I'll give you whatever you want, I swear, but you gotta tell me what it is."
"You're… the worst," Steve says, tugging at Bucky's hair. "You know, you know what I want."
Bucky grins, slipping his fingers up the legs of Steve's boxers to find the soft skin at the tops of his thighs, the warm creases that make Steve whine when Bucky presses his thumbs in. "Pretty sure I do, but I mean it, Steve. I won't do anything if you don't say it nice and clear. Don't you know I'm a gentleman?"
"You're a rotten jerk," Steve says, still in that new breathless voice that isn't actually breathless, just rough and perfect. "You're a—ah, yes, Buck that's—"
Bucky's dragging his tongue along Steve's length through his boxers, because he's part gentleman and part horny as hell, and Steve needs to start talking real soon. "That's it, huh?" Bucky says, letting his lips brush against Steve's cock with the words before looking up at him. "You wanna be all safe and warm inside me?"
Steve's nodding frantically with his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched tight. Bucky wants to kiss his chin so bad he almost loses focus.
"Look at me, Stevie," he says holding Steve's hips in his hands. "Open your eyes."
Hazy eyes blink open, and quickly turn fierce and pleading. "Please, Buck, c'mon."
"C'mon and…"
"Put your mouth on me."
Bucky's been waiting to hear it, he's inches away from doing it, but Steve actually saying the words, all bossy and desperate at the same time, just about does him right in. He slips his fingers under the waistband of Steve's underwear and raises his eyebrows in a question, just to be sure, before he starts pulling them down.
"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, reaching to help slide them off his hips, and exposing a bruise high on his right thigh.
"Damnit, Steve," Bucky says, running his thumb over the dark bloom of color, then leaning in to brush a kiss over it too.
"Buck."
"Okay, okay." Bucky lets Steve's grabby fingers in his hair guide him right back where Steve wants him. All bare now, stiff and flushed red.
"Only if you want to though. You don't gotta—"
Bucky presses his lips to the tip of Steve's cock to shut him up, and then takes the head in his mouth all at once. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing, but he doesn't think it matters as long as he wants to be doing it—which fuck, Steve, of course he does—and Steve wants it, too. Steve's already making little humming sounds and shifting his hips, and when Bucky curls his hand around his cock and strokes it for the first time his ass lifts right off the bed.
"Sorry," Steve says when Bucky pulls off so he doesn't choke. "I didn't mean—"
"Shh, Steve," Bucky hushes him, pressing his hips back to the bed with one hand. "You're perfect. You're not doing anything wrong."
"But…" Steve begins, but he doesn't bother going on when Bucky takes him back in his mouth, stroking him again while he adjusts to having the weight of Steve's cock on his tongue, solid between his lips. He's never been on this end of it before, but he thinks he maybe likes it just as much. Especially when he tries bobbing his head, sucking as he goes, and Steve whimpers, actually whimpers. Steven Grant Rogers.
"You like that, baby?" Bucky asks, pulling off again so he can drag his hand down from Steve's tip to his root and get him a little more slick.
"You gotta—hah," Steve gasps when Bucky starts sucking him again. "You gotta stop calling me that, Buck, it's making me… it's—"
Bucky doesn't get to find out what exactly it's making Steve do, because at that moment he manages to take Steve right to the back of his throat and swallow around him, and Steve goes soundless, his hips fighting against Bucky's hand still pinning him down.
"So greedy," Bucky scolds him softly when he pulls back after another good swallow, kissing the wet tip of Steve's cock and pumping it a little more roughly. "Ain't enough that I'm sucking on you? You gotta be in control just like always, huh?"
"No, no," Steve says, with his eyes still closed and his fingers clenching in Bucky's hair. "I'm not tryin' to Buck, I swear. You just...it's so good. You feel so good."
God, if Steve praising him doesn't make him feel like he's ten feet tall and soaring above the world.
"Hold still an' let me keep doing it then," Bucky tells him. He kisses Steve's shaft, wet and messy because he's so eager just to get his mouth back on him. Kisses him all the way down to his balls and his flushed thighs, then all the way up again to his leaking tip. Dipping his tongue in Steve's slick, salty pre-cum, then closing his lips around him again and swallowing him down.
"Oh shit, oh Bucky," Steve cries, giving up on trying to move his hips, and just bending his knees and lifting his whole upper body up instead, so he's curled right over Bucky. All safe and close around him, hands holding Bucky's head, while Bucky nearly gags himself trying to take Steve as deep as he can. "I'm gonna—Buck, I'm gonna come if you keep going."
Bucky just hums around Steve's cock, because that's the whole point, and he's damn well going to get them there. Now that Steve's sitting up Bucky holds onto the backs of his thighs, right where they meet the lean curve of his ass. Squeezing hard enough that Steve's delicate skin will probably be left with a mark for each of Bucky's fingers, and Bucky will have to kiss every one of them after to make up for it. Right now though, he just can't hold Steve tight enough, can't get close enough to him even with Steve's cock pressing hot on his tongue, and his scent so heady all around Bucky that he's getting dizzy with it.
Next time maybe he'll let Steve take over and move his hips as much as he wants. Let him hold Bucky's head still and fuck him however he chooses. Slow and agonizing and teasing, or rough and quick, the way Steve does so many things. Maybe he'll let Steve be the one between Bucky's legs next time. Maybe there's nothing in the world he wouldn't let Steve do.
Just the thought of it has Bucky grinding his own hips into the bed, moaning as he dips his head a little lower and gets Steve all the way inside. Soft hair and softer skin pressed right to Bucky's nose. His eyes are watering but he makes himself stay down, because Steve's curled right up so his head is resting on Bucky's and he's keening, and Bucky can't even remember cutting his arm and bruising his knees earlier. He doesn't feel anything but heat and Steve and the brightest pleasure as Steve suddenly goes silent again and jerks in Bucky's hands. Spilling hot down his throat and then over his lips when Bucky has to pull off so he can breathe. So he can kiss Steve's stomach and his legs and his softening cock. So he can take it in his mouth again and suck it soft and slow until Steve whines and pushes him away.
He pulls him back a second later, tugging at his shoulders and his arms until he's got Bucky right on top of him again, and then pushing him over so Bucky's on his back with a half naked Steve straddling him.
"You want something?" Bucky asks, looking up at Steve's face, painted all over with determination even though his thighs are trembling where they're spread over Bucky's legs. The crack in his lip is bright red again but he smiles at Bucky anyway, a little shy and a little daring. Tucks his fingers just under the band of Bucky's underwear. They're plain white boxers that have gone transparent where Bucky's already leaked through them, and Bucky would almost be embarrassed if he didn't have Steve's cum still wet on his chin.
"Don't you?" Steve asks. There's a little hesitation there, like he actually isn't completely sure if Bucky wants to keep this going, even after what they just did.
"Are you kidding?" Bucky reaches up to brush his thumb just under Steve's lip. "If you breathe on me I'm gonna come, Stevie. I've never—"
Steve's breath catches, and Bucky freezes up on instinct, but it's not like that. It's nothing he has to worry about, it's just Steve looking down at him like he can't believe his eyes.
"I've never wanted anyone so bad," Bucky says. The deepest truth again. "Will you touch me? Please?"
Steve's face goes rosy and pleased and still a little disbelieving all at once, and he nods his head, tugging Bucky's boxers halfway down his thighs and then settling on his legs again. He takes Bucky in hand, a little too tight for how much Bucky's aching now, but he doesn't mind. It's Steve and he's touching him, and Bucky's mouth falls open when Steve's only just begun to move his hand. Once he's really started jerking him it's all Bucky can do to keep his eyes open and on Steve's face, while Steve watches him with his eyes gone dark and sharp.
"You mean that?" he asks, running his other hand up under Bucky's undershirt till he reaches his chest. "What you said about... about it getting you going, seeing me in your shirt?"
"Yeah," Bucky says, digging his fingers into Steve's thighs again when Steve thumbs roughly over Bucky's nipple.
"'Cause I look like I'm yours? You like that?"
"Yeah, Steve, yeah, I.." Shit, Bucky can barely breathe, nevermind put words together right now. He's so close, his nerves are on fire, and Steve's hands on him are so good, so demanding, it's taking everything he has to try to make this last.
Steve rubs his thumb hard all the way up the underside of Bucky's cock and makes Bucky's hips jump, then closes his hand around the head and just holds it tight. Not even rubbing on him, just keeping him in the palm of his hand. "That make you mine then, Buck?"
"Jesus, yes, please, Steve—" As soon as Bucky begs, Steve starts moving again, taking him in both hands now. Those long beautiful fingers wrapped around him and stroking him so good and tight. "Ah, sweetheart, that's—that's perfect, that's—"
"Say it, Bucky. You made me say what I wanted, you gotta do it too."
Bucky wants this, exactly as it is. Steve's bare skin and his strong hands claiming him. His release still sticky on Bucky's face, because Bucky brought him there, Bucky made him gasp and cry out, and Bucky's coming undone under him now.
"Say... what?" he asks, because his head feels so bright and clear and empty. Everything he has is in Steve's hands.
"You wanna be anyone else's?"
"No, no. Just yours, just—"
Steve leans down so suddenly, kisses Bucky so hard and honest, and a moment later Bucky's spilling between them with a shuddering moan that Steve catches with his lips.
"Mine," he says against the corner of Bucky's mouth, hands still tight around him while the last tremors of Bucky's orgasm roll through him and lift his hips into Steve's touch. "You mean it."
He means it more than anything, but he's weightless and dizzy now, so he just reaches for Steve and pulls him into his chest. Wraps him up tight with his nose pressed into Steve's hair. Clean, still damp, and so soft Bucky feels a little like crying. Sex already leaves him open, like everything is right there at the surface until he comes down again. But Steve makes him feel like his heart's uncovered completely, and it would be terrifying if it were anyone else.
But of course it's not, because it's only ever been Steve.
"Yeah, I mean it," Bucky says when he's caught his breath and Steve has started rubbing his fingers idly over Bucky's chest. Bucky threads his own through Steve's hair and Steve hums, poking his nose into the hollow of Bucky's throat. "I've always meant it. Just too stupid to tell you."
"So you hovered over me like an angry hen instead?"
Bucky slides his other hand down Steve's back till he finds the rise of his ass and smacks it. "Shut up. You're a fuckin' handful and you know it."
Steve huffs into Bucky's neck, soft and smiling. "Yours, though."
"Yeah," Bucky says. He gives Steve's ass a gentle squeeze this time. "Want me to start wearin' your clothes so you'll be sure it goes both ways?"
"I'd love that," Steve laughs, and Bucky gets to feel it now. The little shake of his body right on top of Bucky's.
"Maybe sometime. If you're bein' real sweet."
"I'm always sweet."
"Ha!"
Steve pinches him for that, and Bucky wrestles him onto his back, planting the wettest kisses he can all over Steve's face until Steve's laughing helplessly, and Bucky starts to worry about his gasping breaths.
"Breathe, stupid," he says, kissing him softly on his forehead now, and resting his hand on his chest.
"You were smothering me! And I'm fine, I'm just..." He stops, because he does have to catch his breath, so Bucky breathes slow and deliberate right next to his ear. Stroking his hair until Steve's breaths match his own. "I'm fine, Buck," he says again.
"Do you get it now?" Bucky asks, propping himself up on his forearms, then wincing when that tugs at the cuts on his arm and dropping onto his side instead. Steve frowns and turns to face him, holding Bucky's wrist in his hand. "Why your fighting drives me crazy?"
"I can't not fight," Steve says, his eyebrows still creased and his chin firm, but his fingers soft and trailing up to wind in between Bucky's. "I can't see someone needing help and—"
"I know, I know you can't. But you don't have to fight me, do you? Can't you just… just let me keep you as safe as I can, because I—I have to Stevie. I couldn't live with myself otherwise."
Steve's lips soften and he curls in closer to touch his forehead to Bucky's. "That's how I feel about you too, ya know."
"I know, baby," Bucky says, and it's incredible still, that this is a thing that he knows. "So let's not fight about that, 'kay? I keep you safe, you keep me safe, and no one bitches about it."
"Okay," Steve agrees, lips curling into a smile. "But if you call me that when we're not in bed I will punch you in the face. And I won't apologize."
Bucky laughs, slipping his leg between Steve's so he can feel him from head to toe. "You like it in bed though, huh?"
Steve just shrugs and looks like he's about to say something sour and Steve-like, so Bucky presses his thumb soft as he can to Steve's lower lip before he gets a chance.
"Tell the truth," he says, keeping his thumb there till Steve's cheeks go pink. "We're getting real good at that, aren't we?"
Steve rolls his eyes, but the rest of his face is too soft and sweet now for it to feel like he means it. "I like it," he admits. "A lot."
"That's what I thought."
"Probably wasn't that hard to tell," Steve grumbles, shifting around in a graceless cacophony of sharp knees and elbows until his back is to Bucky's chest. Which he never allows when he's awake.
"It wasn't," Bucky agrees, hand hovering awkwardly over Steve's hip because he really never allows this. "Hey, are we... am I the big spoon?"
"If you get it together and do it right," Steve says, casual as can be.
Bucky gets it the fuck together and scoots up as close to Steve as he can, knees tucked behind Steve's and arm wrapped around him tight. "Better?"
"Hmm... not bad."
Bucky squishes himself to Steve's back and mashes his face into his neck. "Better, babydoll?" he asks in the deepest most obnoxious voice he can muster.
Steve elbows him so hard that Bucky yelps, and Steve turns himself back around again in a flash, laughing and apologizing and kissing Bucky like it's the most natural thing. Like of course they're still missing their underwear, and Bucky's hand is up the back of Steve's shirt, and Steve's lips are on his neck, because why shouldn't they be?
When they finally settle back down again—Steve pale and bruised and perfect in Bucky's arms—it feels just as natural. That stupid three foot gap between their beds was what always felt wrong. And the fact that Steve didn't know Bucky fell asleep thinking about him every night. And the way they'd snap at each other about getting hurt without ever saying why.
Those were the things that didn't make sense, and this—Steve's back pressed to Bucky's chest, Bucky's hand pressed to Steve's heart—this is what makes the only kind of sense Bucky cares about.