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“Jesus, Sam,” Bucky complains at him, “It’ll take two seconds, just sit still”.
Sam does not sit still though. Because he’s fine. “It’s a scratch, Bucky. Leave it alone,” he hisses.
It really is just a scratch. A small cut above his eyebrow from the butt of someone’s gun that Sam couldn’t fully avoid, but nevertheless caused next to no real damage. Sam was still able to take the guy out, and it’s not like he’s got a concussion or anything. The gun glanced off his face. Didn’t even really hit him.
Bucky wasn’t having it though, and Sam doesn’t know why he thought he’d be able to escape Bucky’s mother henning this time when he’s never been successful in the past, but he thinks he’s at least got to keep trying. Who knows, maybe he’ll wear Bucky down. He doubts it, considering Bucky grew up giving Steve the exact same treatment and Sam knows he’s not half as bad as Steve for neglecting his body, but still. He’s not one to back down.
And neither is Bucky when the other man gives a low growl, steps around Sam’s foot where he’s sitting on Bucky’s kitchen counter and slots himself between Sam’s thighs.
“I could have done this myself if you hadn’t smashed your bathroom mirror,” Sam is about to say, but never actually does, because, like he said: Bucky slots himself between Sam’s thighs .
So Sam’s brain kind of… shuts down.
Because Bucky is between Sam’s thighs.
And it is not the first time Sam has thought about getting his legs around that trim little super-soldier waist, alright? Bucky is, by definition of the serum, the perfect male specimen and that has never, not once, escaped Sam’s notice. It is, however, the first time Bucky has actually, you know, been between Sam’s thighs.
He’s so caught off guard by it that he doesn’t see the alcohol swab Bucky has been attacking him with until it’s too late. It stings, badly, and he hisses, tensing up with the sudden pain and maybe, just a little, squeezing his legs around Bucky, completely unintentionally.
Sam is obviously mortified when the action brings Bucky that much closer, Bucky looking down at where they’re slotted together, at Sam’s thighs around his hips, and when he looks back up he licks his lips, his mouth staying parted with the slackness of his jaw and then he’s blinking, clearing whatever thought he was just having away.
Bucky has never been good at keeping a neutral facial expression. He is extremely easy to read that way, and you don’t even really need to know him as well as Sam does to know what he’s thinking at any given moment. Sam has wondered about that sometimes. If Bucky’s expressive face is the product of the muzzle Hydra used to conceal his face, years spent never needing to wear a metaphorical mask because he was forced into a real one, or if the reason for that horrible accessory was to hide the way Bucky’s pouting lips gave him away as human .
Sam can always tell what Bucky’s feeling because of his open expressions, but now Sam has to wonder if maybe, this time, he got it wrong.
Because it kind of looked like desire on Bucky’s features, but then… maybe it’s just the low lighting that makes his pupils so dark. Only that Bucky’s kitchen is the brightest room in the apartment which is why they’re there.
The breath Bucky takes is shallow, but he goes about what he was doing without saying a word about it. Taping a small square of gauze over the cut, but careful not to stick it to Sam’s brow, which is nice of him.
He doesn’t step away though, taking Sam by the chin and turning his head this way and that.
“What are you doing?” Sam says, jerking his head away with a glare.
Bucky glares, “Trying to make sure you’re not concussed ,” he answers.
Sam rolls his eyes.
Bucky’s mouth becomes a thin line, “Yeah, you’re fine,” he says, picking up the medical tape from next to Sam’s hip. His hand freezes there though, fingers outstretched lazily to the roll, or to Sam’s hip. Like he’s thinking about brushing up against the outside of Sam’s thigh, the curve of his hip, with his fingers, like he’s debating going for one of those accidental caresses they sometimes share. The ones that Sam started in that interrogation room with Bucky’s therapist months ago and that they’ve had going back and forth ever since.
Except Bucky remains frozen and unmoving, and Bucky’s expression is complicated .
“You good?” Sam says when Bucky doesn’t move one way or the other and the moment drags on into the awkward.
But Bucky doesn’t answer so Sam gives an experimental twitch of his thighs around Bucky’s hips again. It could be friendly, a nudge to get him moving again, but what it really is is Sam trying to sway Bucky’s obvious indecision.
It works, but instead of a lingering caress, Bucky’s hand, the flesh one, comes to grip Sam’s thigh. Like, actually wrapping his hand around the top of Sam’s leg and staying there.
He doesn’t take it away either, the heat of his palm radiating through Sam’s jeans.
Sam finds that expression on Bucky’s face again, and when he looks up to meet Sam’s eye he licks his lips.
“You sure you didn’t hit your head?” Sam teases, but his voice isn’t really teasing, sounding a touch breathless because he thinks he is, because he thinks Bucky might be…
Bucky gives a soft little chuckle, nervous, and then he swallows, “Maybe I did,” he agrees.
Bucky’s hand is still on Sam’s thigh. He’s still standing between Sam’s legs.
Sam reaches out, slowly so Bucky sees it coming and then when he doesn’t move, still giving Sam those big, blue eyes and soft lips, Sam lets his fingers card through Bucky’s hair.
Bucky’s eyes get wider only to fall closed with a shiver that Sam feels under his hands and against his legs and in the way Bucky’s grip tightens on Sam’s thigh.
Sam swallows, “Yeah,” he says quietly, not taking his hands from Bucky’s hair, “Head trauma,” he whispers.
Bucky nods against Sam’s hands, but he’s really only pressing into the contact and his eyes flutter open even darker than before.
Bucky’s vibranium hand finds its way on Sam’s other thigh, the metal a cool contrast from the heat of Bucky’s right hand.
Sam doesn’t know which one of them closes the distance between them, what little there even is. He feels Bucky’s hands twitch, sees the way Bucky bites his lip staring at Sam’s mouth, and the next thing he knows he has that pouty bottom lip pressed to his own, his legs wrapping the rest of the way around Bucky completely on instinct and Bucky is moaning softly into Sam’s mouth.
Bucky’s hands travel up and around to Sam’s ass, his strength getting away from him for a moment when he lifts Sam off the counter, pulling him forward with a rough jerk until they’re even closer .
“Sorry,” Bucky whispers, pulling away, panting heavily and staring at Sam with wide eyes.
Scared .
Sam pulls him back in with his grip on Bucky’s hair, kisses him even harder.
Bucky moans, and his hands are all over Sam’s thighs, gripping and squeezing and Sam groans into Bucky’s mouth, pulling away to pant, “Fuck me,” before he can think better of it.
Bucky’s face, flushed red already, goes even darker with his blush and the look on his face is something Sam will never forget, equal parts eager and disbelieving.
“Yeah?” Bucky breathes.
“Yeah,” Sam agrees.
Bucky has a bed and a bedroom that Sam knows he rarely uses, but he has a feeling they’ll both be glad Bucky decided to keep up the pretense by at least purchasing the thing. Sam tightens his legs around Bucky’s hips and Bucky makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a whimper and then he picks Sam up, hands digging into his ass and squeezing roughly.
Bucky turns, still holding Sam like he weighs nothing and marching towards the bedroom. Sam moans, something high and breathless, gripping Bucky’s hair a little too tight and Bucky makes a noise, ends up pressing Sam hard against the wall, his mouth descending on Sam’s again. He moans, Bucky pressing flush against him and creating dizzying pressure on Sam’s cock between their abdomens.
Sam has to tear his mouth away to breathe but Bucky is unperturbed, mouth trailing across Sam’s jaw and down his throat. Sam lets his head fall back against the wall with a thud, breathing raggedly. He’s going to have bruises in the shape of Bucky’s fingers kneading into his ass, but it feels so good. Bucky’s stubble scraps and tickles and burns all at once, his teeth a gentle sting on his neck.
He must leave a mark on Sam’s throat because he pulls away with a soft little, “Fuck,” and then he kisses the spot, “Sorry”.
Sam, well he’s sort of lost the capacity for coherent speech. He’s never had a lover pick him up like this, not since he was barely twenty at least. It does things to his brain. Mostly, the vacation all the blood takes to the south, but still. He doesn’t give a shit about a hickey, except that Bucky marking him up makes him that much harder, so he moans again, pulling on Bucky’s hair because that seems to work just fine in communicating the word more .
It works again this time too, Bucky moaning and burying his face against Sam’s throat again, biting and kissing until Sam’s pretty sure he’s going to melt and/or have beard burn. He pulls Bucky up to kiss his mouth, sloppy and uncoordinated and the super-soldier just keeps Sam pinned there to the wall, kissing the life out of him until he’s rutting up against Sam’s ass and Sam has to string the words together because clearly Bucky isn’t thinking about the big picture here.
“Bed. Bedroom. Fuck me, please,” he groans.
Bucky nods, looking at him with that urgent, eager, disbelieving expression again and Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck when the super-soldier proceeds to carry Sam the rest of the way to the bedroom.
He’s gentle when he presses Sam into the bed, doesn’t just dump him there, crawling on top of Sam and barely separating their bodies at all so he can just keep kissing him breathless. The new position brings both their erections together and Sam shamelessly works his hips up against Bucky’s.
Bucky’s hands are uncoordinated and restless in their attempts to touch Sam everywhere, though he does notice Bucky touches him less with his metal hand but isn’t sure it’s the right time to bring up how much he does not need to do that. Who knows, maybe he’s just touching Sam more with the one he has more feeling in because it seems that Bucky really likes the feel of Sam’s… everything.
“Off, off, please?” Bucky asks, shoving Sam’s shirt up around his armpits.
He doesn’t give Sam any room to make that happen though, so he has to push Bucky back a little to sit up and strip the t-shirt off over his head.
Bucky seems frozen, but Sam watches his eyes as he drinks in Sam’s body. Hands hovering again, but not touching, like he’s unsure all over again.
It’s been a year of them skirting around this, and Sam might actually go insane if they stop now, now that he’s had a taste of what it could be like, a taste of Bucky’s hands on him, a taste of Bucky.
Sam reaches out and grabs the hem of Bucky’s own shirt.
Bucky blinks out of his stupor.
“Uh, we don’t- have to, I mean,” he stutters.
“I’ve seen you before,” Sam says, sitting up to kiss Bucky softer, gentle, and he feels Bucky sigh against his mouth, so he rewards himself for not ruining the mood by getting his hands under Bucky’s shirt and pulling it up. Bucky shivers, but he nods and let’s Sam strip him of the layer. Let’s him kiss down Bucky’s neck now, let’s him keep kissing all across his chest and collar bones, even when heated skin becomes body-warmed metal under his lips.
Sam knows Bucky has scars. He knows that Steve didn’t. He knows that Bucky, like Steve, doesn’t scar as easily as Sam does. He knows that the only reason Bucky has scars and that Steve didn’t is because Bucky’s body has withstood damage the serum couldn’t heal. Damage unlike that which Steve had ever endured.
He hates that there are scars on Bucky’s body. He hates how many there are. But he is glad that they are there, that Bucky is here, because any one of them could have killed him and they didn’t.
Sam has one hand holding himself up, though he wonders is he needs to or if Bucky could just hold him steady like this with the way his hands grip Sam’s waist, but either way, he trails the other down Bucky’s chest, aware of how sensitive the other man is, watching him shake, and gets the button on Bucky’s jeans open, the zipper giving way obscenely to Bucky’s straining erection.
Sam’s arm kind of gives out on him then, falling back on the bed he whispers, “Fuck, I can’t wait to have that inside me,” and he grins when Bucky bites his lip, nodding jerkily.
Bucky wiggles himself out of his pants, mostly. They’re still tangled around one ankle, but he doesn’t even seem to notice, too busy running his hands all over Sam’s chest, thumbing over his nipples until Sam is panting and desperate.
Or, more desperate. He wasn’t exactly starting out in a state of indifference when it came to having Bucky.
“C’mon,” Sam encourages, lifting his hips in search of friction and that seems to remind Bucky of his task again, since the other man seems to keep getting all kinds of distracted with even the lightest and simplest of touches.
Bucky nods again, biting his lip, he gets Sam out of his pants slowly, like he’s unwrapping some precious item and not just getting Sam out of his clothes so they can fuck. It makes Sam all the more breathless, especially when Bucky’s hand cups him through his boxers, gentle and teasing, but what it really is is unsure, so Sam bucks his hips into the contact and makes a sound like a whine.
“Fuck,” Bucky whispers, mostly to himself, gripping Sam tighter until he moans.
Sam feels like he’s going crazy with it, so he reaches for Bucky, “Kiss me,” he demands and Bucky comes so willingly, their hips meeting, and Bucky moans into Sam’s mouth.
“You want to fuck me?” Sam asks against Bucky’s lips, “We don’t- I can fuck you if you want,” he offers, because he kind of did make the demand without asking a preference.
Bucky just nods, “Yeah, yes,” he is saying.
Sam chuckles, “To which one?” he asks.
Bucky kisses him hard, Sam hears him blindly reaching for the nightstand, knocking over a lamp without caring to cease their kiss. Eventually Bucky growls, unsuccessful in his blind search and pulls away long enough to locate a bottle of lube.
“I want…,” Bucky says, kissing Sam again, “Can I fuck you? Please?” he whispers, like he’s afraid if he speaks any louder Sam might change his mind.
Sam swallows his excitement for a second, “As long as this isn’t some toxic masculinity thing that means you have to top otherwise you’re gay,” Sam says, because it’s not like Bucky’s ever explicitly mentioned anything about his sexuality. They flirt, they touch, but that’s not exactly unheard of in so-called straight friendships.
“No, I just really love your ass,” he groans, then blushes bright red.
Sam barely even registers that Bucky gets embarrassed, he’s too busy rolling his hips up into Bucky’s and moaning because that might be the hottest thing he ever heard. Not because it’s original or even overly flattering, but the way Bucky says it like he’s as desperate for this as Sam is, like he’s been thinking about it, like he wants it, wants Sam.
Sam’s been thinking about it too. What it might be like to be underneath Bucky, all that super-soldier strength, all that stamina, all focused on the single minded task of fucking into Sam.
“All yours then,” Sam breathes and Bucky whimpers, breaking off into a low growl and his hands go right for the money, uncaring that Sam’s not naked yet and just grabbing two handfuls of Sam’s ass, again, lifting him up to get his hands on Sam where he wants them. Bucky’s all over the place though, and while he’s groping on Sam’s ass, his mouth leaves biting kisses all over his chest, flicking his tongue over Sam’s nipples and otherwise driving him up the wall with need.
“Fuck me, Bucky, please,” Sam begs, “I want you so bad ,” he moans, pulling Bucky’s hair.
Bucky moans, nodding. He releases Sam’s ass, letting him back down on the bed and instead going for the front of Sam’s boxers, tented with his arousal. Bucky’s careful, gentle to peel the fabric over his cock and down his legs, watching rapt, as Sam’s erection springs up against his stomach.
Bucky might actually throw Sam’s underwear across the room because he has no idea where they end up. Bucky’s hands trail up Sam’s thighs until he reaches his cock, thumb of his flesh hand teasing at Sam’s balls. He doesn’t get that close with the metal hand at all though.
Sam’s desperate to be touched, but he’s taken by complete surprise when it’s not Bucky’s hand that touches him, but his tongue when Bucky leans down and licks the leaking head of Sam’s neglected cock.
“Shit,” Sam curses, sensitive and surprised.
Bucky backs off, “Sorry,” he says bashfully, “I should’a asked, can I?”
“Yes,” Sam moans, “God yes”.
Bucky grins softly like he’s won something, and maybe he has, because he sucks the head of Sam’s cock back into his mouth with zero hesitation.
Sam can’t help but buck his hips, grip Bucky’s hair, because he really wasn’t expecting how enthusiastic Bucky is about sucking him, and how good he is at it . Bucky gags, but he may as well not have for all Bucky is discouraged by Sam’s cock bumping into the back of his throat.
“Fuck, fuck, okay, stop, too good,” Sam says, tugging Bucky off by his hair.
Bucky makes a happy noise, “Okay,” he says easily, grabbing the bottle of lube.
He hesitates then, “I uh- It’s not that good,” he tells Sam who shrugs it off. It doesn’t need to be expensive so long as it works for the time being, but Bucky hesitates some more, “and I don’t have uh, condoms,” he admits softly, “It’s… just for myself, I haven’t…” he trails off.
Bucky hasn’t actually had sex since he came back, Sam summarizes. And he wasn’t expecting to.
“You can’t get sick,” Sam says, and Bucky shakes his head, “I’m clean,” he tells him.
“I can still…?” he asks, hopeful.
Sam nods, “Yeah,” he breathes.
Bucky nods a little too fast to be taken as anything other than excitement and pops the cap, slicking his fingers.
“I’ll uh, pull out,” he says bashfully, glancing at the box of tissues on the nightstand.
Sam licks his lips, thighs falling open in anticipation, “No you won’t,” Sam tells him.
Bucky meets his eye, swallowing audibly, “No,” he agrees, “I won’t”.
Bucky may be nervous, like, very nervous , but his fingers are sure when they circle Sam’s hole, metal hand holding one of Sam’s thighs up so give himself a view.
Because that’s exactly what he’s doing and it’s getting Sam all sorts of hot, looking at Bucky’s face rapt with attention on the place where he’s slowly sinking a finger inside Sam. His cock leaks messily on his stomach and it just makes Sam think about how good Bucky had sucked him, licking at the leaking tip like he was thirsty for it.
Sam’s sweating, flushed hot and he feels so needy, so open and desperate with Bucky holding him like this, metal fingers spasming with the urge to grip Sam tighter.
“You want another one?” Bucky asks, slowly pumping his finger in and out.
Sam can’t speak, just nods weakly, moaning when Bucky hooks Sam’s leg on his shoulder, brings his other cool hand down and uses his thumb to spread Sam’s hole while he pushes in the next finger.
Sam breathes out a ragged moan. It’s been so long since he’s had more than just his own fingers. Bucky’s fingers reach deep .
“You’re so tight,” Bucky whispers, rapt. His hips twitch a little subconsciously, but for the majority of all this he’s been ignoring his own cock like it was secondary to touching and kissing and sucking Sam. “Should’a licked you open,” he says, like he’s talking to himself more than to Sam.
“Oh god,” Sam moans just thinking about Bucky’s tongue on him there.
The bastard smirks, gaining confidence, “I still can…” he offers, biting his lip.
Sam shakes his head, even though he really, really would like that, “Just want you in me now ,” he hisses.
Bucky’s fingers start to scissor inside him, “After, then,” he says absently.
“That’s filthy,” Sam says, looking at Bucky with wide eyes, shocked at the suggestion.
Bucky blushes again, “Sorry,” he says, clearly misunderstanding.
“Please do that,” Sam moans.
Bucky smiles, perking up, “Okay,” he agrees.
Christ. Okay he says. Okay I’ll lick your ass after I come inside you . No big deal. Sam is going to die here. Bucky is going to fucking kill him. Where did he even learn this stuff?
“More, please, fuck, Bucky,” Sam begs, chasing his fingers with little jerks of his hips.
Bucky gives Sam what he needs, fucking into him with three fingers now. He finally takes his eyes away from where he’s stretching Sam open and looks at Sam, sprawled out and moaning on the bed.
He presses Sam’s leg back gently, testing how far he can push forward without hurting him, only he forgets what Sam does for a living and how flexible it makes him. Sam still groans, Bucky folding him in half with his fingers buried deep inside shifts everything into a better position and has the added benefit that Sam can reach Bucky again, dragging him down to kiss him.
“I want you so bad,” Bucky whispers into Sam’s mouth, voice begging and soft.
“I’m ready, come on,” Sam pants.
“Are you sure?” Bucky asks, looking Sam in the eye.
Sam might actually die if Bucky starts mother henning right now, so he nods, clenching down on Bucky’s fingers and getting a hand on Bucky's cock through his underwear making him whine, hips hitching into Sam’s hand.
“Fuck me,” Sam says into his mouth, kissing his jaw.
Bucky nods, pulling back a little dazed and freeing himself from his underwear. His cock is even bigger than Sam anticipated, but not so much that he’s really worried, not with how attentive Bucky was in opening him up. He is thick though, and flushed and wet, an angry vein runs down the underside. Bucky gently pulls out his fingers to coat them with more lube and then stroke them over his cock.
Sam watches the whole process with bated breath, biting his own hip in anticipation. Bucky hooks both Sam’s legs over his shoulders, but he doesn’t bother with shoving a pillow under Sam’s hips to get the right angle and instead wraps his arm under Sam’s waist and lifts him up, bringing him right where Bucky wants him. If that wasn’t enough to make Sam’s brain go offline, the way he absolutely looms over Sam’s body, broad shoulders and wide chest taking up his entire field of vision, well that definitely does it.
Sam’s not a small man. He doesn’t get manhandled by timid but eager lovers who can just heft Sam’s weight around for the desired effect. Except that’s exactly what is happening.
Bucky lines himself up and looks at Sam for confirmation again.
“Give me your cock,” Sam begs, breathless.
Bucky nods, releasing his lip from his teeth, “All yours then,” he whispers and starts to push inside.
He’s almost forgotten what this feels like, so much better than his fingers or a dildo. He feels the heat of Bucky, the stretch, and he sinks in so deep for a second Sam thinks he’s going to come apart. Bucky goes slow, but even with the prep he’s hard to accommodate and Sam has to remind himself to breathe and just let it happen, let Bucky inside. When their hips are flush together, he doesn’t need to remind Bucky not to just start fucking him, but Bucky can’t control the way his cock twitches and pulses inside him.
Sam moans weakly.
“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky breathes, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder. “I can’t-- ‘m sorry,” The hand not holding Sam’s hips up comes to rest against his side, thumb stroking soothingly. It’s Bucky’s metal arm holding him up, Sam realises. He hadn’t noticed, the metal warmed by their bodies.
Sam’s own hands dig into Bucky’s hips to give himself the illusion of control.
It takes Sam a moment, but when he’s adjusted to the intrusion he realizes Bucky is shaking. Breathing raggedly against Sam’s skin.
Sam strokes his hands through Bucky’s hair, “Are you okay?” he whispers.
He feels Bucky nod, “You feel so good ,” he whines.
Sam hasn’t had sex in what feels like a lifetime, but Bucky? Bucky really hasn’t had sex in a lifetime.
Sam decides he won’t make a big deal of it. Just lays there, slowly falling into madness trying not to clench down on Bucky with how desperate he is for friction, for movement.
“Everything you wanted?” he asks, teasing.
Bucky just nods against him, losing the capacity for sass, apparently, “So fucking good,” he groans, “Can I?” he whispers.
Sam nods, then realizing Bucky can’t see him, “Yeah, fuck me, hard as you want”.
Bucky makes a low moan, slowly pulling out and then pressing back in, “Fuck Sam, you’re tight,” he hisses, stilling.
“You’re just big,” Sam whines.
Bucky huffs a laugh against his shoulder, “You sure you’re-”
“Ask me again and I’m rolling us over and riding you until I come,” he moans, then pulls on Bucky’s hair, just a little too hard.
“Oh,” Bucky breathes, hips snapping forward making them both moan.
“See?” Sam says, “Doesn’t that feel even better?”.
He’s being condescending, but Bucky nods, “Uh huh,” he says, and when he pulls his face out of Sam’s shoulder, he’s got a sort of dazed expression, mouth hanging open when he gives another shallow roll of his hips.
“Yeah,” Sam sighs, “Yeah, like that,” he encourages, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, which turns into pulling again when Bucky actually starts to fuck him for real.
There’s no lead up or finesse, but Bucky gave him more time than he needs to be prepared for the way Bucky fucks him hard and fast.
The angle is so good, Bucky holding him up with ease, pulling him down onto his cock, fucking into and fucking Sam onto his shaft. Sam throws his head back when Bucky finds his prostate.
“Oh god, fuck,” he swears and Bucky kisses him hard, biting Sam’s lip gently.
“Good?” he pants.
“Uh huh,” Sam moans, eyes rolling back, he just kind of lies there, unable to really meet Bucky’s thrusts since he’s already pulling Sam into them like he’s a third of his size.
“Can I… harder?” Bucky asks, voice wavering, “Just a little bit?”.
Sam moans, “Hard as you fucking want,” he breathes, “Please, fuck I need this,” he says out loud completely by mistake.
And Bucky does fuck him even harder, faster , the assult on Sam’s prostate boarders on painful in the way it never lets up, but he’s lucky that Bucky’s not hitting it dead on otherwise he would be done . Sam’s legs slip off his shoulder and there’s nothing Sam can do about it. He can’t even feel them, all he feels is heat and Bucky and it’s too fucking good.
Sam gets his hands on Bucky’s ass, digs his fingers in and just feels the powerful muscles working as he pumps his hips, fucking Sam into the matress.
Bucky is not quiet, he’s kissing and biting every inch of Sam he can get his mouth on and when it’s not busy leaving hickeys that Sam will regret later, he’s moaning Sam’s name and telling him how good it is.
Sam rakes him nails down Bucky’s back, feeling the contours of all that muscle under his hands and over his body, fucking into him like he’s never been fucked before. He could come just like this, in fact he has to reach down and squeeze himself to stave off his orgasm because he knows the second he comes he’s going to be way too sensitive for Bucky to keep this up. It’s been years since he last came without a hand on himself and he almost doesn’t realize he’s that close.
“Sam, Sam, fuck,” Bucky pants against his mouth, “I- Can I? I- please, I’m gonna-” he begs, shifting his grip on Sam so he has both hands on either side of Sam’s waist, still pulling him into each thrust like Sam’s a fucking doll. Sam gets his legs around Bucky’ hips, pulling him in, though he in no way matches Bucky’s thrusts. He tangles his hands in Bucky’s hair.
“ Sam ,” Bucky begs.
“Come in me, Bucky,” Sam moans, pulling hard on Bucky’s hair because apparently he loves that.
The effect is instantaneous, Bucky groans, the noise starting off high and thready but turning into something like a growl when he grinds down hard into Sam, as deep as he can possibly go, pressing against Sam everywhere, trapping his cock between them. Not that Sam needs to get to it, the gentle pressure of Bucky’s abs against Sam’s cockhead, the way Bucky hits all the perfect spots inside him, the rush of wet heat that fills him, turning the tiny little rolls of Bucky’s hips even slicker in the aftershocks of his orgasm are enough to have Sam coming harder than he thinks he ever has.
Bucky kind of collapses gently on top of Sam then, burying his face in his shoulder again, he groans low and long.
“Sorry,” he says.
“For what?” Sam mumbles back, half coherent and still breathless.
“It was really fast,” he mumbles, bashful, “And I came… a lot,” he says even softer, embarrassed.
It takes Sam a minute to wrap his head around that because Bucky’s still inside him, softening slowly but still firmly inside Sam’s abused ass.
“That was probably the best sex of my life ,” Sam breathes, “I’m going to be walking funny tomorrow!” he says, “Do you know how many guys have told me I’ll be limping the next day only to shoot off after two minutes?” he asked, indignant but he’s not sure on whose behalf.
Bucky huffs, “I wasn’t much better,” he grumbles, “did I hurt you?” he asks, “Did you-” and he pulls himself up enough to see the mess now coating both their stomachs, “Oh,” he says, small.
“Yeah, oh,” Sam mocks, grinning, feeling boneless.
Bucky has a small little smile on his face too though.
It’s not great, when he pulls out, both over sensitive as they are, but Bucky’s expression turns heated again, only to turn pink when he’s caught staring at where they part.
“Sorry,” he says for the millionth time, “I kinda made a mess,” he tells Sam.
A sexy mess, Sam thinks. But Bucky probably doesn’t need to know how much Sam likes being fucked full of come, feeling wet and wrung out afterwards.
Sam just sort of hums, uncaring, eyes half closed. He’s tired, fucked to the point of exhaustion.
Bucky leans down and kisses him again though, and Sam doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, surprised, but thrilled that Bucky’s still kissing him even though they’re no longer fucking.
“I hope you know I’m not moving until tomorrow morning at least ,” Sam sighs when he pulls away.
Bucky grins, “Okay,” he says, then kisses his way down Sam’s chest, down, down until he finds the cooling mess of come all over Sam’s stomach, which he licks.
“Oh fuck,” Sam whispers to himself, “That’s gross,” he says to Bucky, somehow still shocked. He doesn’t stop him though. On the contrary, he gets his hand in Bucky’s hair again, scratching lightly, encouraging. Bucky’s cheeks turn pink, but he grins, continues to run his tongue all over Sam’s abs, looking up at him with still blown pupils.
He gets lower, but he mercifully leaves Sam’s cock alone.
“Are you serious?” Sam asks, a bit breathless. Holy shit .
“If you want,” is all Bucky says, so Sam nods, kind of mutely, but he parts his legs for Bucky and maybe even tries to lead him where he wants him by his hair, a little too eager himself.
“You’re filthy,” Sam breathes to Bucky when he takes his hands to Sam’s ass and pulls him open gently. Sam feels Bucky’s come spilling out of him. “I love it,” he says breathless, feeling his cock twitch pitifully, spent on his stomach.
Bucky licks his lips and grins, and Sam can’t take the anticipation. He’s not exactly patient in bed even if he just came. No one has ever done this to him and he wants so badly to feel it. He grips Bucky’s hair and leads him where he wants.
Bucky’s tongue licks all around his hole, Sam ambles on his elbows to watch, and sees the thick white spend on Bucky’s tongue when he licks up the line dripping out of him.
“Fuck,” Sam groans, “Holy fuck, I am way to old to discover new kinks,” he whines to himself, then gasps and tightens his fist in Bucky’s hair when he feels more come leaking out. Bucky doesn’t wait for it to drip down the seam of Sam’s ass though, just lavishes his tongue right over the abused hole. “Fuck Bucky,” he cries, hips pressing down against his tongue.
Bucky fucking moans like he’s not licking lube and his own come out of Sam’s ass, but it doesn’t even sound fake.
Sam’s cock twitches against his stomach again, trying desperately to perk back up. He is way too old for that.
He presses Bucky’s face against him, feels Bucky’s tongue licking him, then fucking shallowly into him, coaxing his come from Sam’s channel.
“Oh god, oh fuck, Bucky, jesus christ, what the fuck,” he hisses, trying to fuck himself on Bucky’s tongue.
It’s so filthy, Sam’s so spent, he’s not even sure it feels good, though he’s pretty fucking sure it does, but it’s the thought of it, of Bucky’s face pressed into Sam’s ass, drinking come from him like he’s starving for it, moaning, Bucky’s hips working against the bed like he’s getting off on it, on the taste, on the task, Sam doesn’t even know.
Every now and then he pulls away, panting like he wasn’t even trying to breathe while Sam held him there and he looks up at Sam with raw desire, mouth glistening wet. When he does this and notices that Sam is in fact, getting hard again, he looks at Sam with a pleading expression, “Can I fuck you again?”
Sam cups his jaw, rubs his thumb over Bucky’s mouth, without thinking, just nods, but adds, “But you’re not kissing me this time,” with a raised brow. Bucky grins, ducks his head and catches Sam’s thumb in his mouth, sucks on it, bobbing his head, then pulls off with a grin.
“Okay,” he says, ambling up on his knees and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand obscenely. He reaches for the lube but Sam shakes his head.
“That can’t taste very good,” he says pointedly.
Bucky groans, hips jerking, “I’m never gonna stop fucking you if you keep letting me do that,” he says.
Sam huffs a laugh, “I am going to be so spent after this, you’re out of luck,” he says.
Bucky sucks on his own fingers, pulls them out and sinks them easily into Sam’s used hole. He moans, feeling raw and tender but so empty with just the two.
“I am not out of luck,” Bucky says, biting his lip and pulling his fingers out of Sam again, spitting into his hand and stroking himself like that’s just something he can do. “Do you want to turn over?” he asks, then gives a shy grin, “So I don’t forget,” he says.
Sam smiles, god he’s cute, he thinks. “Okay,” he says, rolling onto his stomach and then up on his knees.
Bucky grabs his ass the second it’s presented, fingers rough and smooth, warm and cool. Sam moans, feeling himself being parted, Bucky’s cockhead kissing his entrance. He impatiently presses back, sheathing Bucky’s cock in one fluid motion. Bucky’s grip on his hips nears too tight, “Sam,” he whines.
“Don’t have to take your time,” Sam says breathless, “I want to come on your tongue,” he says, looking over his shoulder and watching Bucky shiver, nodding eagerly.
Bucky still does take his time, kissing the back of Sam’s neck, across his shoulders, hands gripping Sam’s hips with barely contained strength until Sam feels as desperate for it as he did before he came and he presses back as much as Bucky will let him, trying to communicate just how ready he is to go again.
It’s been about as long since the last time Sam was able to get it up this fast after an orgasm as it’s been since the last time someone was able to pick him up and handle him and he wonders if maybe those things are correlated, especially when his cock jumps with the way Buck stills the movement of Sam’s hips with a little growl.
“Let me feel you,” Bucky breathes and Sam goes a little boneless, “Yeah,” Bucky sighs against Sam’s back, stubble scratching lightly over his skin.
Bucky fucks him impossibly slow this time, Sam makes a lot of noise, oversensitive and raw.
Sam can’t get his hands on Bucky like this though, and he complains as such, “Can’t… can’t pull your hair like this,” he pouts.
Bucky moans softly, brings Sam’s hips flush to his and then sits back a little, pulling Sam up until he’s basically seated on his cock. He brings Sam flush against him, back to chest, and Sam moans at the treatment, at being rearranged with such ease, and reaches back to grab a fistful of Bucky’s hair again.
Bucky fucks into him, thrusting up into Sam hard and fast now, like he’s completely forgotten about the slow pace he set before and Sam just has to hang on for the ride. His head falls back on Bucky’s shoulder, and all he can do is moan, clenching his fist in Bucky’s hair. He wraps his other hand around Bucky’s where it’s splayed over Sam’s chest to hold him in place.
“Oh fuck, your cock feels so good,” Sam moans.
“Yeah?” Bucky asks, breathless, and if it was anyone else, or hell, Bucky in regard to any other topic, Sam would think him fishing for compliments, but he sounds genuinely unsure so Sam moans even louder, completely uncaring about Bucky’s neighbours.
“Yeah, fuck, I love it,” Sam admits, “You fuck so good,” he pants.
Bucky whines, speeding up and making Sam’s vision blur.
“Don’t- don’t say stuff like that,” Bucky growls, gripping him tighter, “It’s- oh fuck, Sam, ‘s good, so fucking good,” he groans against Sam’s shoulder, sucking another mark into his skin.
It’s not the least bit surprising that Bucky has a praise kink but it is nevertheless excellent to learn about. Sam can’t do much but take it while Bucky fucks him, and he’s practically incoherent, but Sam is no pillow princess and he’s eager to find out how he can spur Bucky on, make him feel even better.
“Harder,” Sam pants, not even sure that harder exists, except that apparently it does and Bucky tips them forward, ends up with Sam face down in the pillows, Bucky gripping his hips to angle it just right and then covers Sam’s body completely with his own, rutting into him, pressing Sam into the bed so hard he can barely breathe.
“Oh fuck,” Sam wheezes, “Yeah, good , fuck, just like that, that’s so good, Bucky,” Sam manages, the breath is being punched out of him with every other thrust but he wouldn’t stop it for anything.
Bucky makes a noise like he’s dying, crying out Sam’s name like a prayer.
Sam feels like he’s going to come, or pass out, he’s probably drooling into the pillow, but he can’t do anything about that right now.
“Come for me, Bucky, please?” Sam begs, “You feel so good, gonna make me come like this, want to come on your tongue,” Sam pants.
He feels Bucky nod against his skin, “Uh huh, gonna, gonna come Sam, oh fuck,” he breathes.
“That’s it, that’s good, Bucky. Come,” Sam praises and Bucky’s thrust lose the rhythm completely, fucking hard and sporadically, pressing deep inside and Sam bites his lip so hard he tastes blood trying no too come right there too.
When Bucky’s movements are reduced to slow little circles of his hips, the only sound that of them panting together and the wet slide of him inside Sam, Bucky gives him a little bit of room to breathe again.
He pulls out slowly, and Sam looks at him from where he has his cheek pressed into the pillow to see the way Bucky’s enraptured by the sight of Sam’s fucked out asshole. Bucky looks up the whole length of Sam’s body then, meeting his eye.
“You’re so pretty,” Bucky whispers. That’s not exactly how Sam would describe himself right now, looking a horny mess sprawled out limply in Bucky’s bed, so he feels himself get warm all over, which is ridiculous because he’s still practically on fire.
Sam makes a weak noise, but he’s not really sure he’s got words for that anyway, and besides, Bucky parts Sam’s cheeks and then shifts down the bed to bury his face in Sam’s ass.
“Fuck!” Sam curses, “Oh, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” he chants, at complete loss for words. Bucky just moans against him, licking and kissing Sam’s sloppy hole like there’s no where he’d rather be. He gets his finger inside Sam too, keeping him loose and open so he can keep licking up the mess that escapes.
Sam reaches back and grips his hair again, uses his grip to keep Bucky where he needs him and then fucks himself back against Bucky’s face.
“Fuck, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” Sam rambles, “Your mouth , jesus christ Bucky”.
It doesn’t last nearly as long this time, Sam desperate to come and Bucky’s fingers rubbing against Sam’s prostate inside and out, his tongue circling Sam’s hole and periodically just fucking right inside with his fingers, lapping up come and moaning.
Sam comes with a silent scream, body going rigid as his cock jerks and pulses, smearing the sheets with his release. Sam collapses into the mess with zero regard for it, completely boneless.
“Oh my fucking god, Bucky,” Sam groans. He feels Bucky place a kiss to the middle of his back, “You’re incredible,” he says, complaining.
He hears Bucky laugh, a quiet huff, and then feels the bed shift as he moves. Sam can’t muster the strength to open his eyes. He must leave, because after a while there’s a warm cloth on his skin, gently cleaning up the mess of Bucky’s spit and come from Sam’s thighs and the crease of his ass. He makes a small noise, but otherwise does not move until Bucky pats his side, silently telling him to roll over, which he does. Reluctantly. He pries open his eyes to see Bucky with a toothbrush in his mouth, but more focused on cleaning the come from Sam’s skin. He leaves again without a word, and Sam musters enough strength to push the ruined comforter down to the end of the bed and get himself under the sheets.
He feels the bed dip with Bucky’s weight and then, “Hi”.
“Oh my fucking god,” Sam groans.
“Is that… good?” Bucky asks softly.
“So good,” Sam breathes, “The best,” he adds.
Bucky’s silent for a while, and when Sam opens his eyes, Bucky’s looking at him, expression as close to guarded as it’s ever been, which Sam can still see clear as day that he’s awkward, looking at Sam like he has no idea what happens next but he’s trying to be prepared for anything. He’s got a t-shirt and boxers on again, holding his arms in close like he wants to seem smaller than he is.
“Is this the part where you tell me you weren’t thinking straight?” Sam sighs.
Bucky blinks, looking at Sam, barely concealed nudity under the sheet and says, “Nothing about the way I think about you is straight”.
That startles a laugh from Sam, “Well that’s good,” he says mildly.
“I thought so,” Bucky nods and then licks his lips again, bringing his eyes slowly up to Sam’s face. He opens his mouth to say something, but lets it click shut again.
“I meant it, I’m not moving until the morning, Barnes,” Sam says, gauging his expression.
Bucky smiles, though he tries hard not to, “Uh, well, since we did it uh, twice ,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Maybe, you might… might want to stay for the weekend,” he says, blushing pink.
Sam feels himself grin, “That depends,” he says, lifting the bedsheet and motioning Bucky to lay with him, “You gonna cuddle a guy after you fuck him like that, or are you just gonna leave me in the cold here,” he says.
Bucky nods, coming easily to lay down next to Sam, his metal fingers hover for a second before he rests his hand on Sam’s side. Bucky looks at Sam, meets his eyes with open vulnerability, “I don’t want to leave you in the cold, Sam,” Bucky whispers, serious, eyes searching.
Sam reaches out and touches the side of Bucky’s face, pulls him closer, “So don’t,” he says, and Bucky meets him the rest of the way in a soft, gentle kiss.
Sam wakes up in the morning with his face pressed to Bucky’s chest, arm thrown over his waist and their legs tangled together in the sheets. Cool metal fingers trace patterns over his arm.
“I still don’t want to move,” Sam murmurs, pressing closing.
Bucky’s fingers still for a moment, and then resume, “So don’t,” he answers, a smile in his sleep rough voice.
Sam doesn’t.