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Sam jolts awake with a start, his heart racing. He blinks, rapidly, until the heat of burning sand and the stench of blood has faded a little, reaching out for the warm weight of Bucky lying in bed beside him. His fingers close around soft warm skin, the touch grounding him, keeping him here, now, and not back there, back then.
Bucky snuffles sleepily, half-waking, and Sam pulls back, pulls away, because Bucky barely gets enough sleep as it is, and he shouldn’t have to deal with this, not now.
Sam’s halfway out of the bed when a cool hand closes around his wrist, grip firm but gentle. “Hey,” Bucky murmurs, propped up on one elbow.
“Hey yourself,” Sam says, unresisting as Bucky pulls him back into the bed and rolls onto his side so that they’re face to face, his eyes bright and awake now. Sam reaches out and brushes some of the hair out of Bucky’s eyes before ducking down and resting his head on Bucky’s chest. He takes in the steady pulse of Bucky’s heartbeat, the solid strength of him as he curls his arms around Sam’s back and holds him close: warm, safe, alive. Sam breathes out, slowly.
“Bad dream?” Bucky says after a while, the fingers of his metal hand tracing idle patterns across the smooth skin of Sam’s back.
Sam tips his head up, shifting up enough so that he can lean in and brush their mouths together. “Something like that,” he says, kissing Bucky again, more focused this time; his intent clear: distract me, make me forget.
Bucky’s gaze turns heated, rolling them both until he’s settled fully over Sam. Carefully he lowers himself down, cupping Sam’s face and kissing him slow and deep. They don’t need words for this; he doesn’t need to tell Bucky what he needs, because Bucky already knows, and every single time that thought sends a warm thrill right through Sam, like a suckerpunch of the best kind; every warm brush of Bucky’s skin against his own a reminder: you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.
They stay like that for a few minutes, trading kisses back and forth, their kisses rapidly turning filthy and wet when Sam gets his hands on Bucky’s solid waist and begins to rock their hips together, working up a sweat. Soon the need to be skin-to-skin is overwhelming, and Bucky pulls back to peel his own briefs off, before coaxing Sam to lift his hips up and sliding his sleep pants down his thighs, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses to each new patch of skin that he uncovers, his lips carefully avoiding the place Sam wants that mouth the most.
By the time Bucky slides back up, Sam’s almost whining with need, desperate for Bucky’s touch. He clutches at Bucky, tugging him down and kissing him hungrily, rolling their hips together, his breath hitching when the wet tip of of his cock glides slickly over the muscled plane of Bucky’s belly and feeling Bucky shudder in return as they reach a steady rhythm, grinding up hot and slow against each other. After a few minutes Bucky pulls back, his mouth swollen and kiss-bruised, flushed pink all over.
“You gonna let me take care of you, huh?” he murmurs, ducking down to mouth at Sam’s jaw. “You gonna lie back and let me do all the work?”
Sam shrugs. “Sure,” he says casually, as if those words aren’t making him flush hot all over. “I can do that.”
Bucky grins, his smile a brief flash of white in the darkness, giving Sam one last kiss before reaching over into the bedside table and coming back with lube. He slides down Sam's body, mouthing a line of kisses down Sam's chest, thumbing at his nipples, tonguing over the line of Sam's hip before licking carefully up the underside of Sam's cock and then finally, finally, closing his lips around the head and drawing it into the silky wet heat of his mouth. He sucks, softly, but even that's enough to have Sam's hips jerking up, one of Bucky's hands coming up to pin him in place.
Sam closes his eyes at the sound of the lube opening and being applied, stifling a groan at the cool touch of slick metal when Bucky trails a hand down his shaking thigh, soothing, before sliding back up, behind his balls. In the same instant that Bucky finally swallows him down, two metal fingers brush over his hole before carefully easing inside. Sam moans at the feeling; feels so damn good to be touched like this, the press of Bucky's fingers working their way inside him holding the promise of so much more.
Sam reaches down, brushing a thumb over Bucky's cheek to feel the shape of himself working in and out of Bucky's mouth, before sliding his fingers into Bucky's hair, gripping tightly, just the way Bucky likes it. The hand holding his hips down eases up a little, letting him thrust up into the soft warm clutch of Bucky's mouth and grind back onto Bucky's fingers, almost hurting with how good it feels. It looks even better: the thick muscle of Bucky's back rippling with every moment, his mouth stretched tight around Sam's cock, hips grinding against the mattress like he could come just from doing this.
The sight of Bucky like this - greedy, desperate - suddenly has Sam teetering right on the edge, the pleasure sparking bright and hot as Bucky crooks his fingers and rubs fiercely up inside him, pulling his mouth away and getting his other hand around Sam, jerking him off slow and firm, murmuring all the while: “Come on, give it up, just like that, yeah. So good, you’re being so good for me."
Sam grinds shamelessly back, fucking himself on Bucky's fingers and feeling the pleasure spark hot and bright as he comes, groaning with it, feeling the slide of Bucky's hand on his cock turn filthy as he coaxes out every last drop.
Eventually Bucky releases him, instead ducking down to nose at his come-covered belly, his tongue flickering out to clean Sam up.
Sam rubs a hand over his face. "Jesus," he says shakily.
"Actually, the name's Bucky," Bucky pauses in his ministrations long enough to say, smirking against Sam's skin.
"You're a funny guy, Barnes," Sam says dryly. After a moment he tugs Bucky up by the shoulders so they're face to face again.
Bucky grins. "Yeah? That why you keep me around?"
"I can think of a few other reasons," Sam says, glancing down between them. He shifts his hips until his thigh nudges against Bucky's cock, thick and hard and drooling precome.
Bucky follows the line of Sam's gaze. "You want it? You want it in you?" he murmurs, voice low.
Maybe it's the sound of Bucky's voice like that, or that goddamn robot hand stroking gently over his hip, but Sam can feel his cock twitch, making a valiant effort to get hard again. Won't take much more for him to get all the way there.
"Yeah," he says, flushing hot. "Yeah, come on, give it to me."
"How'd you want it, huh?" Bucky asks, easing down to kiss at Sam's nipple, biting gently when Sam gasps.
"On your front?" In a flash he's rolling Sam over and pressing up close behind him, dragging his cock hot and slow right up against Sam's ass.
"On your side?" He gets an arm around Sam's waist, twisting them both onto their sides before spooning up behind him. He trails a hand down Sam's front, brushing a thumb over the tip of Sam's cock. By the time he closes his fingers around it, it takes all of Sam's willpower not to buck up into the touch as Bucky strokes him nice and slow, peppering the back of his neck and his jaw with sweet open-mouthed kisses.
"Want to - ah - want to see you," Sam manages to huff out eventually, breath hitching when Bucky starts to nibble at his ear.
In the blink of an eye he's on his back, Bucky leaning over him. "Like this?" Bucky murmurs, reaching down to trace a cool metal finger up the underside of Sam's cock. Much more of this and Sam’s gonna be getting a hard on every damn time he sees that metal hand, Christ, but it feels so good.
He nods, jerkily, biting at his lip to keep himself from begging for it. Bucky must be able to see it on his face, though, because after a second he relents, closing his left hand around Sam’s cock and stroking firmly. With his other hand he deftly slicks himself up; Sam watches as his eyes flutter shut for a few seconds as he finally gets a hand on himself. Sam nudges impatiently at Bucky’s thigh - come on, I’m ready, give it to me - reaching down and giving Bucky’s cock a long lingering stroke while he hitches a leg over Bucky’s thigh to guide him in, angling him right where he wants him and groaning at the feel of Bucky’s mismatched hands on his waist as he works Sam on to his cock in one long slow slide.
Bucky’s big, no two ways about it, the solid thickness of him stretching Sam wide as he eases in. Sam groans - feels so good, being filled this way, being filled up by Bucky, god, nothing else compares to this - and it’s only when Bucky makes a soft noise and stills that Sam realises he said those words aloud. Bucky’s hands drop from their grip on Sam’s hips, the metal one sliding up to brush over Sam’s cheek. The warm thrill of this is always the same, to be touched so tenderly by something built for violence.
The metal thumb strokes over his lower lip, a flash of cool that quickly turns hot as Bucky ducks down and replaces it with his mouth, kissing Sam slow and soft. Sam responds hungrily, urging him on, and Bucky responds in kind, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, drawing back and then driving back in again, filling Sam all the way up, each thrust sending bright sparks fizzing across his vision. His hands go to the sweat-slick curve of Bucky’s spine, nails biting at the smooth pale skin there when Bucky’s cock drags just right inside him. Bucky arches in response, tipping Sam’s head to mouth wetly at his jaw, sucking a bruise into the skin there as he speeds up the rhythm of his hips, brushing right up against that perfect spot with every thrust, driving Sam closer and closer to orgasm.
By the time Bucky’s hand closes around his cock Sam’s teetering right at the very edge, seconds away from blessed free-fall, and then Bucky’s getting in close and murmuring softly,“It’s okay, Sam. You can let go. I’m here. I’ve got you,” and it’s easy, then, to let go, knowing that Bucky is there to catch him. Sam comes, spurting hot and wet over those metal knuckles in four long pulses, feeling Bucky go still above him as his hand continues to pump, cool metal stroking over flushed skin, coaxing Sam through it. When he’s finally done he collapses back onto the bed, eyes blinking open to look up at Bucky above him. He looks wrecked, lips bitten red with the effort of holding off from coming; he looks beautiful.
“Come on,” Sam breathes, his hands sliding down to grip at Bucky’s ass, squeezing at it, rocking their hips together until Bucky gets with the program and begins to move again. It only takes a few more thrusts for all that thick muscle to shudder under Sam’s hands as Bucky grinds in a final time and comes, groaning and spilling deep. A few seconds later he pulls out, collapsing down onto the bed beside Sam, his chest heaving.
“That was,” he says, and then stops.
“Yeah,” Sam replies.
“I mean, that was really,” Bucky says, wiping at his brow.
“Uh huh,” Sam responds, followed by, “C’mere,” slinging an arm over Bucky’s waist and pulling him in close, feeling the heat of him, the thud of his pulse thundering beneath his skin.
“We should clean up,” Bucky says, face tucked into the curve of Sam’s neck. Sam makes a noise of agreement, not moving. He feels Bucky’s heartbeat even out after a while, the rhythm of his breathing going slow and steady; asleep, he’d have thought, if not for the way that Bucky shifts after a few minutes, tipping his head up to look Sam in the eye.
“Better?” He asks, voice soft.
Sam smiles, pulling him in for a kiss in answer, trying to fit everything he wants to say into the brush of their lips: thank you and I’m glad you’re here and I love you, god, I love you so damn much. From the tender look on Bucky’s face as he pulls back, he knows that Bucky heard him, and when the metal hand curls gently over his hip, thumb brushing soft circles against his skin as the two of them slip slowly down into sleep, he can hear Bucky’s reply:
Me too. Me too.