Chapter Text
“The last guest to stay in your suite was a high-ranking official from the Mining tribe and his new bride,” Shuri is saying. Her outfit today is a deep maroon with regal-looking gold accents. She leads Sam and Bucky through the hotel lobby at a brisk pace, nodding in greeting at every person that she passes. Most of them pause to bow at Shuri, and a few even seem to recognize Captain America and the Winter Soldier in plainclothes.
“The suite comes with unlimited access to all of our amenities, including the spa and salon,” she continues. “The spa offers a honeymoon package, actually, which includes a couples massage and a private sauna. This hotel hosts all of Wakanda’s most esteemed guests, and I can assure you that you will be very impressed!” She comes to a stop in front of a bank of elevators, turning to Sam and Bucky and beaming up at them.
“I’m positive we’ll be beyond impressed, Shuri,” Sam says emphatically. “This is…incredible, really. I still think this is far too generous, I wish you would let us repay-”
“That is enough of that!” Shuri interrupts. “My favorite white boy finally marries my favorite Captain America and I am supposed to not gift them an all-expenses-paid honeymoon, when it is fully within my means and power to do so?” She pauses to roll her eyes dramatically, turning to push the button that calls the elevator. “I could not be more happy for you both, and I truly hope you enjoy your week here. If you tell me that I am too generous again, I will clip your fancy vibranium wings!”
Sam and Bucky exchange amused looks, following Shuri into a sleek, futuristic-looking elevator with mirrored walls. Shuri holds one of her Kimoyo beads up to the button labeled ‘P’ and the elevator instantaneously begins its silent ascent. Shuri hands each of the men a bead of their own.
“These will unlock the elevator to your suite. All of your food and drink will be delivered to you via a dumbwaiter in the kitchen area. No one else will have access to this floor, besides me, of course. But I can assure you I have no intentions of barging in on you two doing whatever it is you plan to do,” she laughs.
“Will you be too busy with your royal duties to entertain us while we’re here, Princess?” Bucky asks. His metal bicep carries the weight of both his and Sam’s luggage, at Bucky’s insistence. He slips the bead into his pocket with his right hand before wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist.
Shuri laughs goodnaturedly and rolls her eyes again. “I intended on inviting the both of you to the Palace for our weekly Friday dinner. It is very casual, there will be no need to dress up.” The elevator slows to a stop and the doors open up to reveal their suite. “Until then, I presume the two of you will be able to keep yourselves entertained.”
Sam and Bucky step out of the elevator and look around the suite in visible awe. The room is a massive circle, at least double the size of the one-bedroom apartment that Bucky and Sam have in D.C., with cathedral ceilings and windows covering the entire exterior wall. The flooring is a chocolate brown hardwood that appears to have just been waxed and polished. The kitchen is practically full-sized, equipped with a rectangular dining table and what appears to be the latest in Wakandan home technology. Sam can see a dishwasher across from the kitchen sink; what kind of hotel room comes with a dishwasher?
Warm, glowing lights - which Shuri informs them are all dimmable, as well as color-changing and able to mimic flickering candlelight if they wish - line the seam between the walls and the ceiling. There’s a lounge area that’s practically the size of the living room in Sam’s childhood home, complete with a sofa that could easily seat twelve, facing a massive flatscreen television mounted over an electric fireplace.
The most impressive piece of furniture in the room is the Alaskan King size bed in the center, facing the downtown cityscape. The white sheets appear to be made of silk, or some other material that glistens, and Sam counts at least a dozen pillows of varying sizes.
Sam figures it would be rude to ask Shuri to please leave, Your Majesty, so that we can get started on the insane amount of sex we plan on having this week, so he refrains with a bit of effort. It’s extremely rare for them to have multiple consecutive days free from superhero duties, and Sam is eager to partake in a week of marathon sex with his super soldier.
One glance at Bucky tells him that he’s in the same state of mind; their luggage had been dropped on the ground right next to the bed within seconds of Bucky entering the suite, and he’s leering at Sam with a smirk that tells him he’s about to be eaten alive.
Luckily for them, Shuri is perceptive and announces that she has a meeting to get to, flashing Sam a knowing wink. He rolls his eyes when she gives him an enthusiastic double thumbs up behind Bucky’s back, but he can’t help but feel a rush of gratitude for the Princess. It’s his honeymoon, damn it.
Not five minutes later, Sam is face down, ass up on the edge of the bed, exactly where he wanted to be. He’s hugging two particularly firm pillows to his chest, allowing him to hold the position without straining his arms. He’s naked already, Bucky having stripped him of his clothes the second the elevator doors had shut.
Bucky stands behind him now, coating two of his fingers with the lube that he had packed in his luggage. They had both noticed that the bathroom counter was lined with Wakandan skincare products, lotions, soaps, and even a few bottles of lube. They had wondered briefly if the lube was provided to all guests, or just to them, because the Princess knew they were coming.
But Sam couldn’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed when he noticed how fancy the lubes were - all different varieties of both silicone- and water-based, but Sam only paid attention to the silicone ones because his ass deserved the best possible option, dammit; one that was warming, one that was cooling (Sam was unsure about that one, who wanted a cold asshole?), one that contained “soothing aloe,” one claiming to taste like strawberries, and two plain, unscented varieties that had the word “anal” conveniently printed on the front. The bottles were much sleeker than any American brand Sam had ever seen at a drugstore, with transparent black packaging and gold text. He obviously intended on taking home every single bottle.
They could try the fancy Wakandan shit later; for now, Bucky wants Sam to just focus on the familiar sensation of his index finger coated in Sam’s favorite lube, stroking his hole for a few seconds before slowly sliding it inside to the first knuckle. With his other hand, he alternates between stroking Sam’s dick and fondling his balls where they’re hanging between his legs.
Sam sighs happily, unconsciously wiggling his ass in the air as he rubs his cheek into the pillow. He keeps remembering that his phone is on silent. Silent. As in, no phone calls or texts or emails or goddamn Twitter notifications for the next week because Nick Fury and Maria Hill had pulled an ungodly amount of strings to give Sam and Bucky vacations at the same time.
They hadn’t intended to give the couple a honeymoon, but Sam and Bucky had surprised everyone the previous week by eloping at the Delacroix courthouse after a year and a half of officially dating. Sam had broached the topic of marriage with Bucky just a few days prior by asking if he knew that gay marriage was legal now.
Bucky had wrinkled his brow. “Yeah, Sam, I know. You know I’ve like, watched the news every now and then since even before 2012, right?”
Sam rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the tweet that had inspired him to ask Bucky the question in the first place.
“This article says that marriage rates increased by sixty percent after everyone came back from the Blip, and same-sex marriages increased by seventy,” Sam paused. “No pressure or anything, but would you ever … want that?”
Bucky didn’t even hesitate. “To marry you? Yeah, of course.” He turned back to his own phone. “Would you rather me propose to you, or did you want to do the proposing? I’ve always imagined myself being the one to get down on one knee, but I’m flexible if you-” His next words were cut off as Sam grabbed the back of his head to pull him in for a kiss.
“You can propose,” Sam panted against his lips when he finally came up for air. “You can totally propose if you want, baby, whatever you want. Whenever you want.” Bucky had taken him to buy a set of matching gold wedding bands the next day, and they were saying ‘I do’ hardly a week later.
So, their joint week off from work ended up being perfectly scheduled to give the two men a honeymoon, albeit a brief one. And when Bucky had called Shuri to tell her the news, she had practically demanded that they come to Wakanda for the royal honeymoon treatment.
Sam can’t think of one single thing to complain about right now, not with his husband giving him a very satisfying prostate massage within the first hour of their fully comped honeymoon. He has no urgent responsibilities, no impending missions, no meetings to attend, no training to do; shit, he doesn’t even have to worry about laundry this week.
Bucky’s up to two fingers now, scissoring them as wide as he can inside of Sam. Sam feels his toes starting to curl just as Bucky slowly removes both fingers, a desperate gasp leaving his lips as his loosening hole protests the absence through little twitches.
“Shh,” Bucky hushes him soothingly, running his metal hand up and down Sam’s back. “Just getting more lube, don’t worry.” Three fingers are pressing into Sam’s hole before his lust-soaked brain even processes Bucky’s assurance. He moans, feeling his toes curl again.
Bucky dedicates a few more minutes to working Sam open with three fingers before pulling his hand away to strip out of his own clothes. Sam sighs when Bucky’s fingers disappear, deliberately holding back a petulant whine.
“How do you want it, baby?” Bucky murmurs. Sam rolls onto his back just in time to watch his husband - his husband - pull his t-shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled torso that always makes Sam’s mouth water.
“Wanna be on my back, at least at first,” Sam says, scooting himself further down the bed to better align all the necessary parts. Bucky, now fully naked, smiles down at him and pulls Sam’s legs up to wrap around his hips.
“Like this?” Bucky asks, to which Sam bites his lip and nods. This position isn’t the most adventurous but, hey, it’s a classic for a reason. This way, Sam gets to watch Bucky’s face while he’s inside of him. He always gets this look that’s equal parts focused and awed, like he can’t believe he gets to fuck Sam and he’s determined to perform well.
Bucky reaches down to align his dick with Sam’s ass before pushing in slowly, working his hips in and out in small thrusts that help ease the stretch. With his dick about halfway inside and Bucky still moving at a glacial pace, the head of Bucky’s cock presses firmly on Sam’s prostate for about twenty seconds as Bucky slides the rest of the way home. They let out matching sighs as Bucky’s hips press firmly to Sam’s ass, burying himself as deep as he can.
He presses their foreheads together as well, linking the fingers of his right hand with the fingers of Sam’s left. Their noses rub together as a watery smile spreads across Sam’s face, emotion suddenly welling up in his chest.
He thinks about sitting in that weird little car from the Great Depression, refusing to move his seat up for a much beefier, scarier Bucky. He thinks about visiting Wakanda with Steve and Natasha while they were on the run, a one-armed Bucky smiling softly at them from the entryway of a small hut but refusing to dine with them, too afraid of his own brain and what he might do to his friends. He thinks about Madripoor, and Latvia, and New York City, and everything that Bucky did to help him take down the Flag Smashers.
Then, he stops thinking about all of that. The past is in the past, and it (probably) can’t be changed (except now Sam knows that time travel and alternate realities are 100% real, so, we’ll see).
“I’m so happy,” he blurts out in a whisper. And instead of saying anything about their history together and how much they’ve been through and how wild it is that they’re married now, he says, “My husband is really fucking good in bed.”
Bucky lets out an equally watery chuckle, stroking the side of Sam’s face with his metal hand. “Yeah? So is mine.” His hips start to pick up speed after that, gradually building up to the rapid pace that he knows Sam loves in this position. Their hands remain linked together, Bucky pressing Sam’s hand into the mattress.
Sam is far from complaining, crossing his ankles at the small of Bucky’s back to keep him from pulling out too far. Their foreheads are pressed together, breaths mingling as Bucky occasionally presses a kiss to Sam’s slack mouth in between him letting out small moans every time Bucky’s pelvis connects with his ass. His orgasm quickly approaching, he tugs on Bucky’s hair with his left hand and hopes that he gets the message to maintain this exact speed.
Of course, Bucky gets the message. Sam’s orgasm washes over his body in slow, syrupy waves that make his toes tingle. He can distantly hear himself letting out pleasure-soaked whimpers as Bucky untangles their fingers to stroke Sam through his orgasm, wringing out every second of ecstasy that he can.
In bed (just like out of it), Bucky is everything Sam could ever ask for. Doting and attentive in the way he always dedicates 100% of his focus and effort to ensuring Sam feels good. Passionate in the way he kisses Sam so thoroughly that it’s like their tongues are making love, too. Adventurous in the way he’s willing to try anything once, even if it’s “weird twenty-first century shit” that Sam found on Reddit.
Tender and erotic and adorable, in the way he always cradles Sam’s face in his hands after Sam finishes coming to press kisses to his cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips. God, he’s perfect.
“You close, baby?” Sam asks when his brain comes back online, nudging at Bucky’s ass with his ankles. His voice is high and breathy. “‘Cause I’m good, keep going.” Bucky grins devilishly as he resumes his thrusts, pounding into Sam’s ass at a borderline frantic and uneven pace that has him gripping Sam’s hips hard enough to bruise.
Sam, for what it’s worth, is blissed out on another plane of existence, focusing on Bucky’s cock stroking his insides, his body loose enough at this point that Bucky’s thrusts meet zero resistance. Bucky fits inside of him like a key slotting into a lock, leaving him feeling momentarily hollow and incomplete every time he pulls out. He stretches his arms up above his head, touching the headboard with his fingertips and relaxing his legs even further. He feels entirely splayed open, meant for Bucky’s consumption.
When Bucky finishes, Sam sighs in relief at the familiar feeling of his husband marking him up from the inside. The two of them had never used a condom together, but they had also both been celibate for, like, a decade by the time they got together, and Bucky was immune to all transmittable diseases, anyway.
Sam revels in the closeness and intimacy that comes with Bucky fucking him bare, the knowledge that their lovemaking always results in him feeling so full and warm and claimed.
It’s why he, when Bucky comes back from the bathroom with a soft, slightly damp towel to clean them both up, requests what he does.
“Mmmm,” he sighs as Bucky gently spreads his legs to wipe off the cum on the insides of his thighs. “Can you put your fingers back in for a little while?”
Bucky grins up at him and tosses the towel to the side. “Of course.” He crawls back up Sam’s body, pressing a kiss to his smiling lips before tucking himself behind Sam as the big spoon. He pulls Sam’s left thigh up to rest on his own leg, opening him up to ease two of his metal fingers back into Sam’s body.
Sam sighs happily again, wiggling in Bucky’s arms as his rim flutters around Bucky’s fingers.The vibranium fingers feel slightly cooler than his body temperature, and they’re harder than a finger made of flesh and bone. Bucky strokes his hair, his cheeks, his collarbones; he hums a random tune as he nuzzles his nose into the sensitive patch of skin behind Sam’s left ear. His fingers twitch occasionally, movements so slight that Sam can only feel them because he’s wrapped so tightly around the fingers in question, not touching Sam’s prostate at all but just keeping him stretched open.
Before Sam even knows it’s happening, he’s hard again.
“Buck?” he says quietly, only about 99% sure he’s awake.
“Mmm?” Bucky replies, a hum low in his throat. His right hand starts moving again, massaging one side of Sam’s scalp.
In lieu of verbally responding, Sam gently pulls his body away to release Bucky’s fingers. He crawls down the bed, tossing a grin over his shoulder that he hopes comes off as sexy, until he reaches Bucky’s cock. He can tell just by looking at it that Bucky could definitely go again - he can always go again, in Sam’s experience (thank you, serum) - and it twitches when Sam bends down to press a kiss to the tip.
Bucky groans when Sam slowly takes the first inch into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the way he knows Bucky likes. He keeps his back arched high and his legs spread, all too aware of Bucky admiring his ass.
They’ve talked about favorite positions before and both agreed that Sam on all fours is in the top three. Among a thousand other reasons, Sam loves how primal Bucky gets when he’s taking him from behind, and Bucky loves watching his cock disappear into Sam’s ass over and over again.
Bucky only lets himself indulge in Sam’s mouth for a few minutes, sensing that Sam is wanting to be fucked again. He reaches for Sam’s ass with his right hand, tucking his thumb into the soft, wet hole to see how much prep his husband will need before round two. Sam moans around his dick, eyelids fluttering when Bucky pulls his thumb out to replace it with three fingers.
“Want you on your hands and knees,” Bucky grunts, scissoring his fingers a couple times before pulling them out entirely. “Facing the windows. Up and at ‘em, soldier.” He finishes with a playful swat to Sam’s ass.
Sam scrambles to comply, biting his lip excitedly and shaking his ass back and forth a little bit as soon as he’s in position. He’s holding himself up on his palms for now, but they both know that he’ll be slumped on his forearms within a few minutes of Bucky fucking him. Sam might work out five days a week, he might have an entire weightlifting regimen that he follows to the letter, but Bucky will literally fuck the strength right out of him.
Bucky now groans appreciatively, sitting up on his knees to tap his dick on Sam’s hole a few times. Sam moans, starting to tremble in anticipation already. Bucky ceases his tapping but only replaces it with gentle rubs, circling the head of his dick around the rim. It glides easily over Sam’s asshole, aided by a mixture of lube and Bucky’s cum, and Sam feels like a million nerve endings in his ass are all being licked at once. The head of Bucky’s dick is spongy yet hard, and Sam’s mind can almost trick him into thinking Bucky’s eating him out.
“Please please please,” he whines, starting to try and shove his hips back to take Bucky deeper inside. “Please, baby.”
“So fucking gorgeous, Sammy,” Bucky says, ignoring his pleas. He rests his dick in the cleft between Sam’s cheeks, stroking up Sam’s sides to play with his nipples. He kisses the center of Sam’s back as he tilts his hips, finally aligning his cock where it needs to be.
With his left hand, he grasps Sam’s chin and gently turns his head to hold eye contact as he breaches Sam’s entrance. He watches, completely enraptured, as Sam’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open, breath starting to come in shorter gasps as Bucky fills him inch by inch. Bucky’s sure his own face looks more goofy than erotic right now, sheathing himself in the tight heat of his husband’s body, but Sam always looks impossibly sexy when he’s taking Bucky’s dick.
He releases Sam’s chin to let his head fall limp between his shoulder blades, Bucky already starting to pick up speed. Spreading his legs a bit so that his thighs bracket Sam’s, he’s able to deepen and strengthen his thrusts, causing Sam to fall forward onto his forearms.
Sam can feel his body going almost entirely limp as Bucky fucks him, his husband’s strength holding him easily in place (the bruises on his hips later will be more than worth it). His head bobs wildly with every thrust, cut-off groans escaping his lips every time Bucky bottoms out, and his fingers scrabble for purchase on the silky sheets even as he instinctively knows that Bucky is bearing the weight of his body right now. He couldn’t crawl away right now if he wanted to, save for the use of their safe word.
The second round is shorter than the first, Sam’s orgasm arriving quickly from the overstimulation on his prostate. Bucky follows soon after, finishing with a deeply satisfied sigh of Sam’s name.
Bucky sits back a bit on his heels, bringing Sam with him and remaining locked inside of his husband’s ass. He pulls Sam up onto his knees as well, wrapping his arms around his chest to spoon him close as they watch the sunset through the windows. Sam holds onto Bucky’s forearms where they’re crossed over his pecs, letting his leg muscles relax a little further now that he knows that Bucky is continuing to hold him up.
After a few minutes, the two men have caught their breath and Bucky’s grumbling stomach breaks the silence. Sam tips himself forward with a laugh and a heavily satisfied sigh, face planting gently on the bed as Bucky’s softened cock slips out of his ass. “Damn, guess you worked up an appetite?”
Bucky chuckles, reaching for the previously discarded towel to wipe up their new mess. “Definitely did.” He slaps Sam’s ass again as he rolls off the bed to go to the bathroom. “Fucking you is the best workout I’ve ever had.”
Sam snorts, rolling around in the bed until his head is situated on the pillows. He sighs contentedly, stretching his arms and legs until even his fingers and toes are wiggling, and Bucky returns to the bed with a tablet that he grabbed from the kitchen counter.
They peruse the app conveniently labeled ‘Room Service’ and decide to order the baked feta with sumac and grapes, scallops with hazelnut picada, and slow-roasted salmon for dinner. Anticipating at least an hour’s wait time before their food arrives via the dumbwaiter behind the living room couch, Sam finally clambers out of bed to venture on shaky legs to the bathroom.
“Having trouble walking, Captain?” Bucky calls after his retreating back, smug laughter evident in his voice.
A past version of Sam might have bristled at Bucky’s smug, cocky attitude and just flipped him off, but present-day Sam has wisened up.
“Might be,” he replies, throwing a coy look at Bucky over his shoulder. He intentionally deepens the sway of his hips as he walks, noting that Bucky’s gaze shot directly to his ass. Such a top. “Might need a big, strong man to carry me around all week.” He’s laying it on pretty fucking thick, but Bucky’s grin darkens to something predatory even as he laughs from the bed.
“You’ve got a big, strong man that’ll do anything you want right here, doll,” he drawls, clearly thickening his old Brooklyn accent to try and get Sam going again.
It works, of course, but Bucky’s looking smug enough.
Sam shuts himself in the bathroom for a few minutes of privacy, starting with relieving himself and thoroughly washing the lube and sweat off his hands. He stares at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, biting his lip through the dopey grin that’s been permanently stuck on his face for the last ten minutes.
His blown-out pupils and hard nipples betray the arousal still simmering beneath his skin, but he’s realistic enough to know that he’s probably not getting hard again today. Bucky was blessed with short refractory periods and the ability to maintain erections for hours, probably, when he was given his version of the serum. Sam, on the other hand, is a human man over 40. He has no complaints; Bucky keeps him more than satisfied.
Sam twists his body to look at his ass in the mirror, biting back a sigh when he gently spreads his cheeks to reveal his hole. Bucky had wiped away all of the lube and bodily fluids stuck to his skin, and he’s nowhere near gaping open, but his hole is visibly a little loose and he can’t help but find it really fucking hot.
He looks completely debauched and he loves it.
Bucky is arranging plates of hot food on the kitchen table when Sam comes out of the bathroom, but he looks up at Sam with a grin when he spots him.
“Hey, baby. Food’s here.”
Sam smiles, pulling on his boxer briefs because he’s not about to sit on a dining room chair naked, thank you.
He ends up not sitting on a dining room chair at all, Bucky tugging him down to sit on his thigh before he could protest. Once he’s settled in, Bucky’s metal arm holding him firmly in place and the man himself reminding him that it’s literally impossible for Sam’s weight to crush him, he has to admit that Bucky’s thick, muscular thigh makes for a very good seat.
They end up splitting the food that they ordered, chatting about nothing in between bites of salmon and sips of wine from a bottle of red that had come with their meal. Bucky doesn’t protest when Sam tugs him back to bed, abandoning their mostly-finished plates of food to roll around and make out.
Well, Sam had intended to lay down and find a movie to watch, but Bucky had started kissing him and Sam Wilson was allowed to be a weak man for his husband, dammit.
Finally, he manages to push Bucky’s lips off of his own, only for them to start pressing kisses to Sam’s cheek and throat. He even licks the spot on Sam’s neck that always makes his cock twitch, the little devil.
“You wanna put on a movie?” Sam mumbles, tangling both hands in Bucky’s hair and lightly tugging. Bucky moans against his neck in response, the vibrations traveling all the way down to Sam’s groin.
“Sure, baby,” Bucky murmurs. He reaches down to take both of their cocks in his hand. “What are you thinking?”
“Um.” Sam’s cock is rubbing against Bucky’s with every pull of Bucky’s hand, and it’s incredibly distracting.
Bucky chuckles and speeds up, jerking them both at a faster pace than Sam would normally use to even masturbate. At some point, Bucky must have drizzled a bit of lube onto their cocks because everything suddenly feels much smoother and wetter, and Sam can’t help the loud, pornographic moan that escapes him as his eyes start rolling back.
Bucky laughs again, darker, meaner, when he starts focusing all of his attention on the heads of their cocks, tugging his foreskin down a bit so that he can feel the tip of Sam’s dick against his own. “Fucking sexy, baby. Fuck.”
Sam moans again, close to coming for the third time in a single day and unsure how this is even possible. He reaches up to tug on his nipples and finds himself coming almost instantly, covering Bucky’s hand and both of their cocks in his cum.
Almost immediately, a pleasant sort of exhaustion floods his body and he sighs as he tries to stay awake a little while longer. He never even noticed if Bucky came, but there’s no longer a hand wrapped around his dick so he assumes Bucky finished.
He turns his head to watch as Bucky walks back to the bed, smiling brightly at Sam even as he clumsily wipes off his dick and stomach. And before Sam can even open his mouth to confirm whether or not some of that cum belongs to Bucky, Sam is asleep.