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Poose's lap dance request was seconded. This...happened.
It’s kind of a story — when isn’t it, with their lives — but the long and short of it is this: because Thor and his nice astrophysicist girl are getting married, Stark wanted to throw the man a good old-fashioned bachelor party. Thor brought the alcohol, Stark brought the girls, and it all degenerated pretty quickly from there.
“You liked that, didn’t you,” Bucky hums from behind, his mouth up close against Steve’s ear. Steve’s fingers stumble, tipsy, as he tries to stick the key in the lock of their front door. “You liked all those pretty soft girls dancin’ around in their tiny little panties. Lie to me. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Jesus,” Steve huffs, laughing. Bucky reaches down and gets his hand under Steve’s shirt, all stuck to his body with the sweat of the hot July night. He scratches his blunt fingernails hard across Steve’s pelvis. Steve’s head falls back near Bucky’s shoulder.
“Hmm,” says Bucky, smug. “Knew it. Tell you what, sometime we’ll get a girl. You like that? We’ll share her. I’ll teach you how to take care of her just right.”
“Oh my God,” Steve says, laughing again, low. “Bucky, God.”
“I’ll have a hard time finding one with a nicer rack than yours, though.”
“You’re fuckin’ awful,” Steve mumbles, turning around. Bucky can’t help it, and in the dark in front of their apartment he dips forward and kisses Steve’s pretty red mouth. He tastes heady, like Thor’s strong and searing alcohol. It’s been years since Bucky’s seen him like this, a little buzzed, real happy, all sweet and pliant under his hands. Bucky walks his fingers up higher under Steve’s shirt and pinches one of Steve’s nipples to prove his point, rubbing his thumb until it goes hard. Steve breaks the kiss and groans. “Fuckin’ worst,” Steve reinforces, breathing hard. And then he hums the way he does when he really wants it. “Mmm, the worst.”
“You’re all red,” Bucky accuses. “Why’s that, huh? What’s got you all worked up?”
“Dunno,” Steve says. He’s grinning into Bucky’s neck, and then when he pulls back his eyes are all blue and dazed and bright, and he’s chewing at his bottom lip. “You smell so good. I think the, the mead, Buck, it got me all hot. S’good. S’really…Jesus, you smell good.”
“I’ll fuck you out here if you keep talkin’ like that,” Bucky warns.
“Do it,” Steve chuckles. He’s got his hands on Bucky’s hips, and rubs his thumbs into the fabric over the bones. He smiles and laughs to himself, his eyes glinting in the dark. “Do it. I dare you.”
“Christ,” Bucky bites out, and smashes his mouth back into Steve’s, pressing him hard against the outside of the door. Steve moans out loud and opens up his legs, so sweet, so he can press up against Bucky’s thigh. Bucky rolls his nipple between his thumb and forefinger and Steve’s head falls back, his mouth open. Bucky can’t help himself and kisses his neck, sucking just underneath his ear.
“You’re gonna make me come,” Steve breathes. “Mmm, Buck —“
“I’m the worst,” Bucky mumbles into Steve’s throat, grabbing at that perfect ass with his free hand. “I’m the worst, he says to me, I swear to Christ —“
Steve’s hands are huge and greedy clutching hard at Bucky’s hips now, holding him in place so he can roll his hips against him. His dick is hard and hot and insistent against Bucky’s thigh through their jeans, and he’s really working himself up, his eyes shut, his mouth gasping. Bucky can’t fucking take it. He watches transfixed, pressing into Steve harder, flexing all of his muscles so Steve’s got something solid to get himself off on. God, he wants it. Steve always wants it, he can’t help it, just the way he's made now, and it makes Bucky hot under his skin every time, hot enough he forgets about everything but holding him down and touching him.
He sinks his teeth into Steve’s neck, proprietary.
“Buck,” Steve whines.
“Yeah, go on,” Bucky mumbles, and tugs Steve’s earlobe between his teeth. He whispers hotly, “But I ain’t getting out the stain.”
Steve comes, laughing and groaning into Bucky’s ear, gasping through it. It sends shivers all up and down Bucky’s half-metal spine and he pulls Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth, swollen on account of the way he’s been chewing at it. Steve pushes his tongue into Bucky’s mouth and makes a whole slew of noises that shouldn’t be heard in a public place, still wanting more and more and more.
Finally Bucky detaches him, quirking an eyebrow, bad at mock-sternness. “You gonna let me get you inside now that you got your rocks off?”
Steve grins at him, slapping the keys into his hands. “Yes, sir,” he says.
Jesus Mary and Joseph, Bucky thinks bleakly.
Bucky and alcohol don’t mix these days and he didn’t have a drop, and so it’s easy for him to unlock the door and finally shove Steve inside. “Booze and a bunch of strippers,” Bucky muses, shutting the door. “Turns out you’re a red-blooded American man after all. Guess you really do deserve your title. God damn, you are a handsy drunk, Rogers.”
“You were, too,” Steve tells him. He reaches out when the door is bolted and tugs Bucky in by the belt loops. “Comin’ home late and smelling like whiskey, always wantin’ some…”
“Did you let me have it?” Bucky really doesn’t remember.
“Course I did,” Steve says, easy as that. He plants a kiss on Bucky’s mouth and then pulls away, smiling soft and just a little fuzzy. “Hey, tell you what.”
“What?”
“Let you have it now, too. ”
Bucky’s been at least a little hot under his collar since those pretty girls were shaking their asses for them, and trying not to show it since he made the mistake of looking sideways to see Steve with his face all flushed and his jaw on the floor watching them, but it’s only now that he’s truly and honestly aware of how bad he wants him, how much he needs to be inside, how big and pretty and dark Steve’s eyes are.
“This isn’t a pity fuck, is it?” Bucky wonders. “For Stark sayin’ I couldn’t get a lap dance on account of being an old married man?”
“We ain’t married.”
“Might as well be.”
Steve hums, smiling like a dope. “Might as well be,” he repeats, all quiet and to himself. Then he snorts. “Hey, you want one so bad, I’ll give it to you.”
“Hmm?”
“You want a lap dance so bad, I’ll give one to you. Fulfill my marital duties.” He waggles his eyebrows. He’s trying so hard not to crack up and ruin the effect, but it’s a lost cause.
“Rogers,” Bucky says, seriously, “You wouldn’t know how to shake your ass if one of those sweet ladies herself tried to stand you up and teach you.”
Steve’s face changes. Bucky knows that look. Oh, Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ, does he know it. He tries hard not to grin. “Yeah,” Bucky continues, pretending to think about it hard. “You couldn’t do it. No way in hell. You got two left feet. Disgrace to the profession.”
Steve pulls back. There’s a stubborn jut to his chin now that’s making Bucky absolutely, one-hundred-percent crazy. “Couldn’t do it, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Alright, Barnes,” Steve says, and tilts his head. He pulls away, marches into the kitchen, grabs one of their nice wood dining room chairs, and sets it down with a thunk. He manhandles Bucky until he’s sitting in it. There’s a pause where Steve kicks off his shoes and socks and Bucky tries to shut his mouth before flies get in.
“You ain’t serious,” Bucky finally says.
“Dead serious,” Steve replies. He raises an eyebrow and then strips right out of his shirt. He’s fighting a real losing battle against his grin, and his voice comes out teasing and happy. He scoffs. “Two left feet. I’ll show you, buddy.”
“No music.” Bucky knows his eyes are about the size of dinner plates. He thinks about pinching himself. With his left hand, even.
Steve fumbles for a second with his pants, squinting, and it’s the cutest damn thing Bucky’s ever seen in his life. Finally he gets them open and off, unashamed of the wet spot at the front of those little briefs he wears. “Doesn’t matter.” Bucky’s gonna die this way, he swears before Christ. Steve’s already turning red when he makes his way forward. He plants both hands on Bucky’s knees through his jeans and makes him spread his legs. He noses along Bucky’s jaw and finally gets to his ear.
“Hands to yourself,” Steve murmurs.
“Yessir,” Bucky manages.
There’s only one real light on in the apartment, and it’s the light just in the entryway above the door, and Steve looks so beautiful in the dim quiet of the night Bucky’s sure he’ll die from it. And then Steve turns around slow, and he hooks both thumbs in those little briefs, and he sways his hips left to right while he pulls them down, and down, bending over, and over. Showing off. Then he steps out of them, and when he turns back around he’s naked and a little hard and red all the way down to his collarbones.
Bucky digs his metal fingers into his knee, and the joints whir and click in the quiet.
Steve swings a leg over Bucky’s and settles himself down in his lap. He’s embarrassed as hell and tucks his face into Bucky’s neck, but Steve Rogers doesn’t ever give up, and after a little self-conscious laugh that raises the hair on Bucky’s neck, Steve’s swaying his hips again. Bucky can’t help the way his head falls back.
“Sure I can’t touch you?” Bucky asks, because he’s a bastard.
Steve hums and laughs low. “M’sure.”
“Looks like you could use a hand.”
“Got hands myself.” But Steve doesn’t touch himself the way Bucky expects — no, he’s happy enough just to rub up against him, writhe around naked in his lap, trap his cock between their bellies while he settles into a slow filthy grind, like Bucky’s inside him for real. Steve’s head falls back at the friction and Bucky wants to bite the long pale line of his neck. His mind’s just white noise due to the way Steve’s pressing his ass against him, riding along Bucky’s zipper, his skin probably rubbing red. Dropping his ass, circling his hips. Turns out his rhythm’s fine after all.
Finally Bucky scrapes together his remaining two brain cells and does what comes naturally when he wants Steve to get with the program.
“Look at you, so fucking pretty. Just let me kiss your tits.”
Steve gives a shiver and his hands clench in Bucky’s hair. “Buck,” he says.
“You got the cutest little ass. You got any idea what a cocktease you are? You got any goddamn idea?” Bucky can’t stop watching him. Those blue eyes are really blown, just absolutely gone. “Lookin’ at me like that when I know you want it, Stevie, it makes me crazy. Makin’ yourself wait that way. I know you wanna sit on my dick. Why don’t you just do it already?”
“Fuckin’ worst,” Steve reminds him, his voice like gravel now. His lashes flutter. “Jesus, Barnes, shut your mouth.”
“Nah,” Bucky murmurs. Steve tilts his face down and their noses nudge together. “Give me a kiss,” Bucky says, into Steve’s mouth. “Just one kiss, baby, just one, you’re makin’ yourself crazy.”
And, miracle of miracles, Steve listens for once in his life, and he gives in; pressing his wet open mouth pliant and hot to Bucky’s, his teeth sharp and hungry and his tongue sweet and strong. Bucky grabs his opportunity and gets two handfuls of Steve’s ass, and Steve moans out loud, the dip of his spine arching like he doesn’t know where he wants hands on him first.
“Next time we’re doin’ this right,” Bucky says. Fuck getting a girl to join them. Maybe sometime, but God damn, he can’t even think about that when Steve’s right here in his lap, willing and so damn curious, wiggling around this way. “Next time I’m gonna go out and buy you a little pair of lacy panties, blue or white, surprise you. Nice nylons too, seam up the back, lace on top, and a pretty garter belt. Fuck you with ‘em on. Will you wear lipstick if I ask real nice? Get all prettied up for me, let me love on you ‘till you gotta pull me off by the ears. Want that? You want that, baby? Say it to me, sweetheart. You gotta say if you want it, you gotta let me know.”
“Yeah, I want it,” Steve gasps. He’s blushing now all the way down to his navel, absolutely on fire, his mouth halfway open like he needs a dick in it. His head’s tipped back and Bucky bites at his neck just the way he wanted. Apparently it’s just not in Steve when he’s had a few to be shy anymore. It’s the hottest damn thing Bucky’s ever seen. “I want it. I want — Bucky, God.“
“You want what, baby doll? Tell me, you got it.”
“I want it in me,” Steve says. He’s almost shaking because of how bad he needs it, his breath coming in huge gulps. He’s kneading at the back of Bucky’s neck, and when Bucky can’t help himself and starts kissing on him, he moans, ragged. “I want it in me so bad, Bucky, come on…”
“Lift up,” Bucky says.
“Don’t wanna,” Steve breathes.
Bucky huffs a laugh. “Have to if you want it in you.”
Steve shifts back enough that Bucky can finally, finally fucking unbutton his pants and get his cock out, Jesus Christ, it’s only been about a hundred years. He shoves his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out the little packet of lube he lifted from the bathroom in that seedy-as-hell club. God bless the future. “Can’t reach,” Bucky tells him. “Gonna have to do it yourself.”
Steve rips it open with his teeth and gets it on his fingers. He reaches back. “You just wanna watch,” he accuses.
“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, and kisses his mouth. “Yeah, baby, you got my number.”
“Bucky, Bucky, Buck, God —“
“You’re so sweet. You’re so fuckin’ sweet to me, I ever tell you that?”
“Too much,” Steve chuckles, and then when he shifts, he moans like it’s Bucky’s fingers inside him instead of his own. “Buck —“
“So sweet, don’t know anyone else who’d do this, baby, nobody else,” Bucky says. “Show off for me this way. Feel good?”
“Could be feelin’ better,” Steve manages.
“Go on,” Bucky tells him. “Go on, baby, I’m right here. Sit on it if you want, I’ll take good care of you.”
Somehow they manage it, even though the chair gives a dangerous creak and it sends Steve into a quiet fit of snickers. “Sorry,” he chuckles, “If we break it —“
“Fuck you on the floor, then. Jesus, I’m dyin’,” Bucky complains, laughing into Steve’s mouth. “Stevie baby, you’re killin’ me, I’m serious.”
“You ain’t,” Steve whispers, and just like that he’s sinking down on him, moaning for it high in his throat, ah, ah, ah. “Buck, God.”
Bucky isn’t much better — Steve’s so hot inside, so wet, and he knows that he’s gripping too hard at Steve’s slim hips, that his left hand is going to leave a hell of a bruise, but he just can’t find it in himself to care. And then Steve moves his hips, just like before, like when he was dancing for him. Bucky grabs two handfuls of Steve’s ass. He slides down his cold left forefinger, down and down, to feel where he’s inside him.
“God,” Steve repeats, shaky and reverent. “Jesus Christ.”
“Hell are you waiting for?” Bucky asks. He kneads Steve’s ass in his hands. “Hmm?”
“Just wanna, God,” Steve mumbles. “It’s so fuckin’ good —“
“Christ,” Bucky swears, knowing his eyes are huge in his face, aware that he’s staring up at him like he hung the moon and stars. Steve never runs his mouth this way.
“It’s so fucking good, you’re so, you’re so, God, Buck — I can taste it, you’re right there, you’re right there —”
It’s too hot, and there’s sweat in the hollow of Steve’s throat, around his nipples, Bucky can see it slick on his body in the dim light. Whatever’s left of his mind goes on and taps out entirely. He wraps his strong left arm around Steve’s hips, hand spread over his ass, and coaxes him into rolling his hips. He cups one of Steve’s pecs in his right hand, and squeezes, and dips down to suck his nipple into his mouth.
“Oh,” Steve moans, sucking in air through his teeth. He’s riding Bucky now, wiggling and grinding around on him, all the muscles in his stomach clenched up. He tangles his hands in Bucky’s hair and arches his back, pushing into Bucky’s mouth. “Oh, God, touch me, please —" And so Bucky does, tugs his nipple between his teeth and gets his hands all over him, because he asked so nice. Steve gasps and moans, ah, ah, his voice thin, hitching up. "Bucky, yeah — yes — oh —“
“Shh, hush,” Bucky laughs, breathless. “Christ, Rogers. Neighbors’ll call the cops.”
“Be as loud as I want,” Steve tells him, laughing, and gasping, so hot and sweet. “Mmm, yeah, Jesus.”
“Pretty sure they think you’re bein’ murdered.”
“Pretty sure,” Steve says, grinning with his head back, totally unaware of the effect he has, “They think I’m getting fucked.”
Bucky’s mind whites out, he swears to God. And Steve rides him harder, making all kinds of sounds with his mouth open, the chair really taking a beating.
“Christ, you like getting on top,” Bucky says to him, wondering. He’s got to swallow hard when Steve squeezes up around him, and a groan catches in the back of his throat. His baby’s always so shy about it, got to be asked sweet, over and over, but the truth always comes out, and the truth is he fucking loves it, no matter how red even thinking about it makes him turn. He loves getting put on display this way — but always for Bucky, only for Bucky.
“Yeah,” Steve pants. “Ah, Bucky — yeah —”
“Like doin’ all the work. Like getting fucked? You like getting fucked, Rogers?”
“I love it, I love it, it’s so fuckin’ good, Bucky, it’s so, God, fuck —“
"Always surprise me," Bucky manages. "Jesus, you always surprise me."
Steve’s moans crack and shudder in his throat, and Bucky feels it, knows he’s about to come, but Steve’s weight is solid and heavy, and it’s not like he can move his hips, and so it’s the sweetest, longest torture he’s probably ever felt in his life. He holds Steve’s slim little hips with both his hands, grabs at Steve’s ass, manhandling, and makes him move harder until he’s bouncing on it. Smacks that ass and then digs his fingers in.
“M’gonna — Buck — “ Steve gasps, and comes grinding his cock against Bucky’s belly, squeezing up around him so hard inside Bucky think he’ll die because of it. His head falls back and he fists Bucky’s hair in his hands, shoving his face into his flushed little tits, and it’s right then too much, the smell of his skin, his hot satisfied love sounds; those long luxurious gasps and moans.
“Steve, fuck,” Bucky bites out, and as Steve finally shudders back down, holds him in place so he can fill him up with his come, his hips jerking, his head thunking back against the chair. “Fuck, baby, that’s it.”
It lasts for-fucking-ever. All Bucky can do is let his toes curl in his boots and sweat and groan and ride it out. Steve’s making noises, little noises, and even when Bucky starts coming down he still can’t take it. “Keep moving, baby,” Bucky mumbles, delirious. “Let me stay for a second, just let me stay. Made me wait long enough to get here.”
Obediently Steve rolls his hips again, breathing hard and scratching his fingers at the base of Bucky’s neck, the muscles in his legs twitching. It feels so good Bucky can’t help the sound he makes. “Jesus, you’re good to me,” he murmurs. “M’drippin’ out of you, baby doll. Feel it?”
“Mm-hmm,” Steve hums, dreamy. He dips his head down, hoping for a kiss, and Bucky gives him one. His mouth moves wet and soft against Bucky’s when he gives one of his lusty sighs. “Bucky,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slower and slower, drooping with satisfaction.
“Baby,” Bucky calls him, sweet. “Baby doll.”
They kiss so lazy Bucky’s amazed they can do it at all. He can’t stop squeezing Steve, his ass, his hips, those big strong thighs. He wants to sink his teeth into him, the meat of him, leave pink marks all over his pretty flushed skin. He just can’t get enough.
Steve finally lifts off with a groan, settling back after Bucky’s slipped out of him.
“M’gonna take you to bed,” Bucky sighs, missing him already. Steve chuckles, content, pressing his nose into Bucky’s hair. “M’gonna love you all night.”
“Guess I can suffer through it,” Steve says. Bucky can feel the upward curve of his mouth against his temple.
“How you feelin’?”
“Drunker than I did forty minutes ago, Barnes, you know that,” Steve groans, exasperated. “You just like hearing it.”
“True,” Bucky concedes. “Really, though.”
Steve kisses him. “Wearin’ off. Just tipsy. S’nice, Buck. It’s real nice.”
“Marital duties,” Bucky snorts, after a second. Ungainly, like he’s unused to his big limbs all over again, Steve clambers off him. Bucky heaves himself up and goes through all the trouble of hiking his jeans up to his hips and buttoning one button before giving up. He shoves at Steve’s sweaty shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the bedroom. Steve shoves back. “You know, they probably think we left on account of our gentlemanly sensibilities.”
“Well,” Steve snorts, his eyes bright, “Didn’t we?”