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They’ve barely made it through the apartment door before Sam is kicking it closed and pushing Bucky up against the wall, covering Bucky’s body with his own. Pressed this close Sam can feel Bucky’s breath hitch in surprise at the movement, rougher than Sam usually goes for; but he’d needed to feel Bucky beneath his hands and up against him, needed the physical confirmation that he’d made it through their days apart. From the way Bucky’s eyes soften, his metal hand coming up to gently cup Sam’s face, Sam knows that Bucky needed it too.
“Hey,” Bucky says, voice soft.
“Hey yourself,” Sam replies.
Bucky leans in and presses his lips to Sam’s, just the barest brush of skin on skin, a little tentative. After a few seconds he pulls back, his thumb stroking lightly over Sam’s cheek.
For a moment they’re both still, each drinking in the sight of the other: both a little bruised up, a little bloody; but they’re alive. They made it through their missions, made it back to each other. Made it home.
Sam’s not sure which of them moves first. The next thing he knows Bucky’s mouth is on his, and this time there’s nothing tentative about it, Bucky’s hands moving from Sam’s face to his shoulders to his ass and then back again, like he’s greedy for any part of Sam he can get his hands on. In response Sam shoves a thigh between Bucky’s legs, rubs up against him nice and slow while he brushes his lips over Bucky’s mouth, his jaw, tasting the salt-sweat of his skin, feeling the pulse flutter when he drags his tongue over Bucky’s neck.
By the time their mouths meet again the kiss is wet and filthy, Bucky ducking down to press biting kisses to Sam’s jaw; the rough drag of Bucky’s stubble sends sparks of heat coiling low in Sam’s belly at the sense-memory of how good it feels when it’s scraping over his thighs.
“Two weeks,” Sam murmurs, breath hitching as Bucky pulls back to mouth at the sensitive spot on his jaw, “is too damn long.”
“I think I can make it worth the wait,” Bucky shoots back, which is all the warning Sam gets before Bucky’s hands curl around his thighs and he’s being lifted bodily, carried like he weighs nothing. From the feeling of Bucky’s cock pressed up hot and thick against him Sam guesses they’re heading straight for the bedroom, so it’s a surprise when Bucky turns and instead lowers him down onto the couch.
Bucky steps back, his gaze assessing as he surveys the sight of Sam below him like this, kiss-bruised, combat gear rumpled. Sam plays into it a little, tipping his head back to expose the curve of his neck, spreading his legs apart in silent invitation, flushing hot all over at the shamelessness of it.
Bucky licks over the split in his lip, his gaze going dark. In a flash he’s kneeling down, his hands deftly unbuckling Sam’s belt and peeling his combat gear away, shoving Sam’s pants down just far enough to mouth a teasing line up the soft skin of Sam’s inner thigh. Sam feels more than sees Bucky’s lips curve into a grin as Sam’s cock twitches at every little press of skin to skin, straining against his boxers, almost begging to be touched; but Sam’s not going to beg, not yet; part of the thrill is seeing how far Bucky can push him before he does.
Bucky, goddamn tease that he is, ghosts a light breath over the fabric covering Sam’s cock, before instead moving to carefully slide Sam’s undershirt out of the way enough to nose at the trail of hair on Sam’s belly. He flicks his tongue gently over the thin scar beside Sam’s hip, ducking down to suck a bruise into the skin there, his metal hand sliding up to palm at the solid muscle of Sam’s chest, rubbing at his nipples until Sam’s chest heaves. Maybe it’s the time they spent apart, or the fact that Sam didn’t exactly have time to jerk off during the two weeks of Avenger-ing, or maybe it’s just the fact that Bucky’s the one doing it, but being touched has never felt so damn good.
By the time Bucky pulls back to murmur a quiet “Can I?” against Sam’s skin it just about takes all the willpower he has left - along with the little bit of blood that isn’t rushing southwards - for Sam to stop himself from letting the words spill forth: please, god, yes, touch me, come on.
“Sure,” he says instead, shrugging, like he’s going to last longer than five seconds flat when Bucky finally touches him. “Be my guest.”
Bucky gives Sam a sharp-toothed smile, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. Then he’s leaning in and mouthing at where Sam is already thick and wet with precome, trapped in the confines of his underwear. His hips jerk, and Bucky’s mismatched hands come up to pin him solidly against the back of the couch, the shock of cool metal on overheated skin enough to draw a sharp gasp out from Sam's throat.
Bucky seems to take that as his signal, reaching in and pulling Sam’s cock free. With one hand he pins it up against Sam’s belly, pressing his lips to the head, a wet open-mouthed kiss, almost reverent, before ducking down to lick a stripe up the length of it, his tongue flickering out to taste the wetness at the tip. By the time Bucky's lips slide over the head, softly sucking it into his mouth, Sam's thighs are shaking from the effort of holding himself back from thrusting up into that slick tight warmth.
"Fuck," he manages to gasp out past gritted teeth. "Come on, man."
"What was that?" Bucky asks, pulling off with a wet pop. He looks up at Sam through his eyelashes, his slick mouth curled into a smirk. "You want me to stop?"
"You are such," Sam pants, reaching down to curl a hand over Bucky's muscled shoulder, sliding it up to his neck, over his jaw, “a goddamn asshole."
Bucky tilts his head, presses a warm kiss to Sam's palm.
"You love me," he murmurs against the skin there.
"I do," Sam concedes. "All of you." He shifts his hand, thumbing at Bucky’s mouth. “Except maybe this.”
“Yeah?" Bucky says, pausing to kiss at Sam's fingertips, and then, coyly: "Any way I can change your mind?”
"I can think of one," Sam says, reaching down with his other hand to curl his fingers around his cock. He starts up a steady rhythm, stroking it nice and slow and teasing, feeling beneath the thumb of his other hand the punched-out breath Bucky makes at the sight. Sam slides his hand from Bucky's face up into his hair, grips at it just tight enough to make Bucky gasp and lean into the touch before pressing forward, mouth open and willing, as Sam tugs him down onto his cock.
This time there's nothing teasing about it. Bucky works his mouth down until Sam feels himself hit the back of Bucky's throat, feels the tight clench of it close around the head, almost hurting with how good it feels. Bucky draws back up, tonguing wetly at the tip, laving at the pre-come spilling over. One hand comes up to curl around the base of Sam's cock, stroking at it firmly as he slides back down, fucking his mouth on Sam’s cock in a steady rhythm, letting Sam’s hand in his hair guide the angle of his jaw, the slide of his tongue, the pull of his lips. The metal hand - almost warm, now - slides down to brush over Sam's balls, palming them, fingertips curling up behind them and rubbing at the sensitive skin there, the gentle teasing touch drawing Sam closer and closer to the edge. Feels like he's been there for hours, since the moment he felt Bucky beneath his hands again.
His grip goes tight in Bucky's hair in warning, and Bucky eases up a little, lets Sam fuck up into his mouth and back down against the unrelenting pressure of his fingers, until Sam's gasping with it, the words spilling from him - oh yeah, right there, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky - as he comes down Bucky's throat, his whole body shaking with it. His eyes roll back into his head - he maybe blacks out a little it feels so fucking good, Bucky's mouth going gentle on him, milking it out of him, getting every last drop.
When he finally finishes shuddering through it, he opens his eyes to the sight of Bucky's head pillowed on his thigh, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. When their eyes meet his mouth curves into a satisfied smile. Sam gently cards his fingers through his soft hair, brushing it out of his face. He slides his hand down to Bucky's left shoulder, digging his thumb into the knot of tension there until it loosens up, Bucky letting out a quiet noise of relief at the sensation.
"Missed this," Bucky says, pressing into Sam’s touch, nuzzling at Sam's skin; just breathing him in. "Missed you."
"Me too," Sam agrees, voice soft, just as Bucky continues, voice flat, with “But not as much as I missed showering,” grinning at Sam’s look of mock-indignation.
"Asshole," Sam shoots back, lifting his foot to nudge the toe of his boot over Bucky's crotch, where his cock is straining against the fabric of his pants. "Want me to do something about this?"
Bucky shakes his head. "Later," he offers. "I wasn't kidding about that shower."
He stumbles to his feet, heading for the bathroom, shucking his combat leathers as he goes.
For a moment Sam just watches, taking in the sight of Bucky’s retreating figure and all the smooth solid muscle of him, the broadness of his shoulders, the strength in his thighs, the pale inviting swell of his ass.
“You coming?” Bucky turns to ask, pausing mostly naked in the doorway. Sam doesn't have to see the teasing spark in his eyes to know that Bucky isn't just talking about the shower.
Sam snorts, rising to stand. He walks across the room, curls a hand over Bucky’s hip, draws him in close for a biting kiss, before pulling back to look Bucky in the eye.
“We'll see 'bout that," Sam says, grinning. He knows how much Bucky likes a challenge.
+++
A challenge Bucky appears to take very seriously, judging by the way he drops to his knees the moment Sam's done cleaning himself up, easing Sam back against the tiles until the water runs hot and soothing over his aching shoulders and down his back.
"You don't have to," Sam starts.
"I know," Bucky says, nosing over Sam's cock, still mostly soft but rapidly gaining interest under Bucky's attention. "But I want to." He looks up at Sam through half-lidded eyes, gaze questioning: this okay?
Sam shifts his hand from the shower wall to Bucky's shoulder, squeezing a little: yeah, baby. Go ahead.
"Was all I could think about," Bucky continues, ducking down to brush his lips over the faint scar on Sam's knee before mouthing a line of feather-light kisses up Sam's thigh. "Getting my mouth on you. Two weeks without you was like -- fuckin' torture. And I would know about that," he says, voice light. Before Sam can laugh, or sigh, or get a little wet-eyed thinking about how much shit Bucky had to go through to get here, to get to now, to the both of them here together, Bucky goes on.
“Think you can get it up again if you come now?”
"Which one of us is the super-soldier here, huh?" Sam replies. Sure, Bucky's managed to get three or four orgasms out of him on more than one occasion, but those times had never had to factor in the exhaustion that comes with being in that mission-focused mindset for fourteen days. "Sorry, man. Think two might be my limit for tonight."
"S'okay," Bucky says, unconcerned. "I can work with that." He pats Sam's thigh, pulling back and getting to his feet, before leaning in to mouth at Sam's jaw. "How about we move this someplace more comfortable, huh?"
Sam reaches behind himself and shuts the water off with a quiet click.
Somehow they manage to make it to the bedroom with only some minor damage to the walls on the way, as they stumble and press each other up against what feels like every piece of furniture in the apartment besides the one they're actually aiming for. The moment they're through the bedroom door Sam shoves Bucky down onto the bed and crawls on top of him, settling back to rest his weight on Bucky's solid thighs.
He draws his thumb into his mouth, gets it nice and wet - goes slower, when Bucky groans quietly at the sight - before reaching down and rubbing his thumb over the slick tip of Bucky's cock. Bucky's hips jerk, going still when Sam curls a hand around the length of his cock - or at least, what he can fit in his hand; Bucky's big, no two ways about it - and strokes him slowly, leisurely, like they could stay like this for hours. They probably could; sometimes Bucky teases Sam until he begs for it and sometimes Sam does it right back, draws Bucky to the edge again and again until he's shaking with it. There's nothing quite like the thrill of feeling the former Winter Soldier come apart beneath his hands.
But not tonight. Tonight Sam has other plans.
Evidently Bucky does too; after a few more minutes he slides his hands to Sam’s waist, tugs him up until they’re lying against each other chest to chest, Sam’s cock gliding slickly over the soft skin of Bucky’s belly, Bucky pressing hot and heavy against Sam’s hip.
“Wanna get my mouth on you,” Bucky murmurs, brushing his mouth against Sam's. “Get you ready for me. That okay with you?”
“I don’t know, man,” Sam replies, pretending to ponder it over, like the thought of it isn’t making heat pool low in his belly. “Sounds like a real hardship.”
Bucky nods, playing along with it. “Well if you don’t want it,” he says as he sits up, making like he’s going to move away and leave the bed, “I got some other stuff i can work on; got some paperwork - that mission report for Fury--”
His next words are cut off with a rough kiss as Sam tugs him back down onto the bed. Sam slides his hands from Bucky’s shoulders down to his chest to palm at the thick swell of his pecs, scraping his nails over Bucky's nipples until Bucky's gasping with it, his cock twitching against Sam's skin. Just as Bucky's breathing goes shuddery in the way that means he's on the verge of coming, Sam pulls back.
He pats at Bucky's chest, guiding him back to give himself room to roll onto his belly. In a flash Bucky's hands are on his hips, easing him up onto his knees and then sliding down the muscle of his thighs as they shake, in anticipation of what's to come.
"This good?" Sam says, voice half muffled by the pillow his arms are curled around.
"S'okay, I guess," Bucky says. His hands come back up to curl over Sam's ass, spreading him a little.
"Oh, is that how it is?" Sam gets halfway through saying, the words trailing off into a choked noise as Bucky leans in, licking slow and soft over his hole.
Bucky pulls back long enough to shoot back "Yeah, that's how it is" before he's diving back in, mouthing wet open-mouthed kisses to Sam's hole until it loosens up, flicking his tongue teasingly over the sensitive rim before pressing inside. Sam buries his face into the pillow, arching his spine as Bucky builds up the rhythm, alternating between gentle, barely-there licks and short, sharp thrusts of his tongue, spreading Sam’s thighs further apart to mouth at his balls, sliding up to kiss the dimples of his ass.
After a few minutes he pulls back, sucking bruises into the inside of Sam’s thighs as he reaches for the lube. Sam groans into the pillow, rocking his hips, greedy for more, his grip on the pillow going white-knuckled at the feeling of a slick finger joining Bucky's tongue as Bucky gets him wet, working him open a little at time. Sam cants his hips back, coaxing Bucky to give him more, and he does: soon there’s two fingers thrusting slowly in and out, Bucky licking messily between them as he twists his wrist and curls his fingers to rub up against that spot that has Sam seeing stars.
By the third finger Sam can’t stifle his noises anymore; dimly he’s aware that Bucky’s finally got him there, begging for it - please, come on, want you, need you in me - and then he doesn’t have to beg any longer because Bucky’s over him, covering him, the head of his cock rubbing thick and wet over Sam’s hole before finally, finally, easing inside. When he’s all the way in, Sam lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding; feels so damn good to be filled like this, to be able to feel Bucky like this after so long, warm and real and alive and here, in their bed again. Bucky ducks his head to press a warm kiss to the back of Sam’s neck, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he stills. He sounds about as close to the edge as Sam feels.
“Can you move?” Sam asks after a few minutes, feeling Bucky huff a laugh against his skin at the memory.
“No,” Bucky says, grinning as he eases back until he’s balanced on his knees, his mismatched hands sliding to curl around Sam’s waist. “But you can.”
That’s all the invitation Sam needs. He reaches up to brace himself against the headboard before rolling his hips back, working himself on Bucky’s cock in a slow, steady grind, shameless for it, his breath hitching at the kiss of warm metal as Bucky reaches down, pulling Sam apart a little to see where he’s stretched tight, his thumb stroking smooth and gentle over the rim. Sam speeds up in response, clenching down tight at the end of every movement, feeling Bucky shudder against him, his breathing ragged as Sam draws him closer and closer to the edge.
After a few more minutes Sam can't hold back any longer; on the next push back he changes the tilt of his hips, angling Bucky’s cock right where he wants it and shoving back hard against it, feeling the thickness of it drag right up against that perfect spot inside with every movement, and it’s just as he’s tipping over into orgasm that Bucky’s hand closes around his cock, jerking him off nice and rough just the way he likes it. Sam comes half-sobbing, grinding back against Bucky’s cock and forward into his hand as he shoots off in thick, wet spurts, feeling the slide of Bucky inside him get slicker as he comes too, slumping down and groaning against Sam’s skin as he spills deep. The rhythm of his hand gentles, easing Sam down from it; a few moments later Bucky pulls out with a slick noise, running his free hand in a soothing motion up Sam’s spine and following the path of his hand with his mouth, ending with a kiss to Sam’s jaw.
Sam closes his eyes, leaning into the touch and letting gravity drag them both down to lie on the bed, flat on their backs, Sam curling an arm over Bucky’s waist to pull him in close.
“Can you move?” Bucky says after a while, his voice teasing, once their breathing has slowed enough to speak.
Sam rolls his eyes: every damn time. Bucky never lets him forget it. He’d thought earlier would be the only mention of it; clearly he was mistaken. “No,” he responds, like always, and then, more softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” Bucky says, snuggling in closer to Sam, pressing his lips softly to Sam’s temple. “I like the sound of that.”