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He sees him walk into the bar and knows he’s gotta have him. Big, Beefy, Blonde. When someone checks off all the boxes of the ‘B’ list, Bucky gets them. This guy’s no exception, even if he makes a B-line for the bar and orders himself a bottle of beer and just sits on the stool instead of mingling or joining everyone on the dancefloor. Eyes lifting to the crowd occasionally, he looks out at the bar patrons but never gets up to join any of them.
“I know that look.” An arm snakes around Bucky’s shoulders from behind and pulls him back against the body of his best buddy, Clint Barton. “Who’s in your sights?”
Before allowing Bucky to answer, Clint grinds against him because he’s a shithead and likes to tease the fuck outta Bucky. He leans his head back against his buddy’s shoulder so that he doesn’t need to shout -- as much -- over the blaring bass that beats through the place.
“Big, Beefy, Blonde.” Bucky points. “Corner of the bar.”
Clint chuckles in his ear. “You never change. When was your last triple ‘B’?”
“What time is it?”
“Uh.” Clint checks his phone. “Almost nine.”
“Three hours ago.”
Starbuck’s guy. He’d been giving Bucky bedroom eyes for days. Bucky’s not sure why it took him so long to hit that anyway. He’ll have to find a new Starbucks, but… well there’s one on every other corner anyway.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m a legend!” Bucky calls back to him as he makes his way over to the bar where his next Big, Beefy, Blonde waits for him.
Bar Guy is still paying more attention -- and pretending not to -- everyone on the dancefloor so when Bucky taps him on the shoulder, he turns like he’s surprised there’s anyone near him at all.
“Hey!” Bucky greets. “Have ya met Bucky?”
Blinking a few times -- and staring at Bucky like he’s got three heads -- Bar Guy gapes a bit at him before shaking his head. Looks confused and slightly nervous before ducking his head down, almost like he doesn’t want Bucky looking directly at his face.
“No?”
“Well you should!” Bucky offers his hand. “I’m Bucky. How you doin’?”
Bar Guy takes a glimpse at the hand held out to him without lifting his chin before taking it in a firm handshake.
“Nice to meet you,” he says just loud enough that Bucky can hear.
He doesn’t say any more than that, not even his name. But he does lift the collar of his jacket like he’s trying to hide from Bucky. At first, Bucky thinks that he’s just nervous. Which is fine. Bucky can work with that. But then he takes another peek at Bar Guy’s face.
“Hey… you look familiar,” he says. And feels a pang of guilt. He’s had a lot of sex since converting back to civilian life two years ago. His therapist says near death experiences can make people have difficulties resisting impulses. But then, Bucky was having a lot of sex before joining the military anyway. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”
“I’m sure,” he mumbles. “Were you in the army?”
Bucky takes a step back as that’s really the last thing he expected anyone to ask him in a place like this.
“What? Why would you--”
Bar Guy points to Bucky’s left arm where there’s a sleeve of tattoos. Everything from his mother’s name to skull and crossbones, to the dogtags that must’ve given him away. It the one that Bucky’s considered getting removed. He hasn’t decided officially yet. Still, his hand covers them.
“Yeah, okay.” He gets out a nervous laugh. How very unlike him. “You got me. Two tours overseas. You?”
He nods and brings the bottle of beer back to his lips again before saying, “Army. Active Duty. I guess.”
“You guess?” Bucky helps himself to the stool next to Bar Guy. Spreads his legs just a little. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothin’,” he mutters. “Can I get you a drink?”
Bucky snickers. That’s usually his line.
“Sure.”
“What’s your poison?”
Bucky tries to sneak a better look at Bar Guy, but the dude’s still ducking his damn head down. All Bucky knows so far is that he’s Big, Beefy, and Blonde. With baby blue eyes and sinful lips that keep touching the top of the bottle and a sexily deep voice.
“Whatever you got there’s good.”
With a quick nod, Bar Guy grabs the bartender’s attention and orders Bucky the same beer he’s drinking. Domestic and light. Bucky’s good with that. He thanks Bar Guy and snatches it up to take a swig of it. Waits until Bar Guy’s eyes fall on his lips before licking the moisture away. A smirk curves up on Bucky’s mouth when he sees Bar Guy’s Adam’s apple bob with his heavy gulp Bucky spreads his legs a little more.
“You got a name?”
Bar Guy quickly averts his eyes.
“Steve,” he says softly.
A deep blush fills his face as soon as he gives Bucky his name. So dark Bucky can see it even under the flashing lights above them. Like he’s embarrassed by his name. Or had intended on using a fake name but slipped and gave his real one. Either way, Bucky needs to hold onto a chuckle because of it.
“Steve,” Bucky repeats. “Did you know Steve is my favorite name in the whole world?”
Even though he’s not exactly looking at him, Bucky can tell that Steve rolls his eyes. Looks like these silly tricks of Bucky might not work as well on this guy. Bucky may have to pull out the big guns.
“So, Steve.” Bucky scoots the stool a little closer. “When did you decide to hand your life over to the US military?”
That actually sees Steve give a dark chuckle. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”
“I hear that!” Bucky laughs and taps the top of Steve’s beer with his. “I’ve been discharged for two years and I’m still…”
He cuts himself off and doesn’t finish with that statement. The statement he hasn’t said out loud to anyone and yet he’s about to say it to this Steve. When he snaps his mouth closed though, Steve looks over at him. Finally giving Bucky the full view of his face and Bucky freezes. He definitely recognizes this guy from somewhere. He does. The face and the name float somewhere within Bucky’s mind, twisting and turning until they finally fit together like the key fits into the lock and bam…
The second Bucky places him, his eyes go wide, and Steve, as if sensing the sudden change of being recognized for who he is, turns quickly.
“Holy shit,” Bucky mutters. “You’re… you’re really…”
“Please… don’t…” Steve glances around with his hand covering the side of his face as though everyone else around them has also put together that he’s Steve Rogers. Captain America. Captain fucking America. “Don’t say anything.”
“But you’re…” Bucky lowers his voice. “You’re Captain America.”
“Yes.” Steve starts putting money down on the bar and stands. “If you’ll excuse me. It was nice--”
“No, no!” Bucky shoots off the stool so quickly it almost falls over. He fumbles with it a bit to keep it upright. Captain fucking America. The night’s goals just increased ten fold. No way he’s gonna let a mark like Steve ‘Captain America’ Rogers slip through his fingers. “It’s okay! I won’t say nothin’!” He quickly looks around at the best option to get the guy to stay. “Look, why don’t we go to a booth?”
There’s only one left open, but the seats are high enough that only the tip of Steve’s head’ll be showing and if Steve sits in the corner, no one’s gonna pay him any attention. Steve’s baby blues blink a few times as he seems to mull over Bucky’s suggestion. The very tip of his tongue skims over his bottom lip. It shines in the lights above them and then Steve gives one curt nod. And just like that the night’s back on.
Steve follows Bucky like he’s following a trail of breadcrumbs. Bucky might bump someone out of the way -- he’s like, twelve percent sure it was a mutual bump that Bucky just happened to beat the guy over in claiming the booth. One sight of Steve and Bucky -- who is by no means a small man and yet still smaller than Steve -- and no arguments are made anyway. Bucky slides into the booth. Steve slides into the seat across from him. Before getting settled, Bucky flags down a server and orders them both another beer.
“Better?”
“Mhm.” Steve takes one look around before fully committing to that answer. “Yeah. Thanks. I just… not really ready…”
“Hey.” Bucky holds his palms out. “No need for explanations. I get it. But, uh…” This time he takes a glimpse around. “You do know you’re in a gay bar, right?”
Better not to make assumptions, but if what Steve’s not ready for is coming out as gay -- or bi maybe? Bucky’s seen that Smithsonian exhibit and Cap definitely had a thing with that foxy Agent Carter -- Bucky feels the need to warn him that this might not be best places to keep his secret. But Steve just chuckles.
“Yes, Bucky,” he says with this teasing glitter in his eyes that tickles Bucky’s stomach. “I know this is a gay bar.”
Bucky grins. “But… did you know…”
“And I know it’s a fetish bar. Kinda hard to miss.”
One glance around is enough to clue anyone into that. While this place isn’t the most overtly kinky places in the city -- it’s more of a mingling place than anything -- the fact that there’s anyone at all walking around in leather chaps and harnesses sorta gives it away. Most people are dressed in everyday clothes, some do elect to dress in a kinkier fashion.
“So…” Bucky flicks his eyebrows up. “Captain America is kinky, huh?”
Steve shakes his head. “Captain America? No. Steve Rogers. Maybe.”
The wink he throws at him makes Bucky’s head spin. This is… this is not going to throw him off of his game. Nothing’s changed. So Captain America, with his wholesome smile and sparkling blue eyes, is sitting with him at a gay bar and winking at him and might be kinky. He can still do this. Just the same as always.
Before Bucky can say anything -- not that he can since his throat’s gone very dry -- Steve goes on.
“So, sugar.” Oh, Bucky should not enjoy the way Steve’s lips form words so much. “Are ya rationed?”
Bucky blinks. A bit baffled and bewildered.
“What?”
Steve chuckles and takes another drink. “Are you single?”
“Oh.” Bucky runs fingers through his hair. “I’m…” Hm. How should he put this and still have a shot? “In between relationships. I guess. You? You seein’ anyone?”
“Well, everyone who might’ve shown a lick of interest is either dead or dying. So… no.”
Once again, all Bucky can do is blink. Steve gives him a saucy grin before bringing the bottle back to his lips. This guy is not exactly what the textbooks and stories said.
“I just meant…”
“I know what you meant.” Steve smirks. “So two tours. How’s civilian life treating you?”
That’s not a question most people ask him. Then again, most people don’t realize within thirty seconds of seeing him that he’s a Vet. And those who do know tend to avoid talking to him about his time in the service like the plague. His hand absently trails over his left arm again. There’s a reason he choose a sleeve after being honorably discharged. His fingertips feel the rough, bumpy skin that makes up nearly seventy percent of his arm. He’s reminded every doctor’s visit that he’s lucky he still has it.
“I’m sorry.” Steve clears his throat. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just… it’s something we kinda have in--”
“It’s alright,” Bucky interrupts. He doesn’t have anyone to talk about this with. His therapist has insisted that he go visit the VA, but he’s refused. Bucky’s never wanted to talk. But something about being with Steve… “It’s… not what I expected. But what about you? How long ago did you defrost again?”
Steve chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “About nine months ago.”
“You know… this is kinda heavy for pick-up talk, how about a change of subject?”
Lifting up his drink, Steve concedes to that with a nod and a relieved grin. They go on to talk about much lighter subjects. Steve tells him about the movies he’s seen so far, which includes all the Star Wars movies -- including the prequels -- and Steve is bright enough to prefer the original trilogy.
“There was just so much more heart to the first three,” Steve says. “It wasn’t in the next ones.”
They talk about Star Wars alone for nearly an hour, and Steve seems pleasantly surprised that there’re rumors of another one being made. What Bucky doesn’t tell him is that there’s a life-sized Storm Trooper suit in the corner of his apartment.
Steve’s a Yankees’ fan which surprises Bucky since figured he’d be a Dodger’s fan but they’re a bunch of traitors, in Steve’s words. He likes to draw -- he even does a doodle on one of the cocktail napkins -- says he can’t dance, but Bucky finds himself longing to give it a try. Steve speaks several languages and apparently has a pretty decent voice if his soft singing along to the music counts as a sample.
As an avid reader, Bucky finds himself talking about his favorite books, and whenever he says one that Steve doesn’t know, he takes out this little notepad and writes it down. He tells him about learning to bake, which helped a lot with his PTSD, but he leaves that part out since he doesn’t want Steve thinking he’s weak or something. This is the guy who landed in the ice, sacrificing himself for the world and now he’s here, seventy years later, at a gay bar and getting back into the world. Bucky’s stupid night terrors and triggers and flashbacks are so juvenile compared to what Steve’s been through.
They’ve been laughing and sitting back like the world around them doesn’t even exist for almost three hours, when Bucky remembers that this all started as an attempt to get Big, Beefy, Blonde Bar Guy into bed. He’s not even sure if Clint is still around. Bucky checks his phone and sure enough he’s got a text that’s telling him to behave and have fun. Behave. Ha.
“You know what?” Steve says.
Bucky glances up from his phone. Steve is looking over the top of the booth at the bar “What’s that?”
“I think I need a blowjob.”
The words brush the outside of Bucky’s ears and he’s actually ready to drop to his knees and get Steve’s dick out right then and there, and what is that all about?
“Uh… what?”
Steve turns back around like he hasn’t said anything unusual at all.
“A blowjob.” He points to where he was looking and at first Bucky wonders if he’s about to get stood up by some sexy dude without a mangled up arm even though Steve’s said nothing about nor even taken a long look at his arm at all. “The drink? Have you ever had one? Kahlua and Bailey’s Irish Cream with whipped cream?”
“Oh.” Bucky feels the flush to his skin. What is going on with him tonight? “Yeah, I’ve had it.”
“Is it good?”
Bucky smirks. “Captain America wants advice on a blowjob from me?”
Eyes narrowed playfully at him, Steve snickers. “No. Steve Rogers does.”
“Ah. Okay then, Steve Rogers. Yes. You should get a blowjob.”
When the drink comes just a few minutes later, Bucky’s sweet-tooth is the only thing that matters for a moment. He swipes his finger through the top of the whipped cream. Bucky’s bringing his hand up to his mouth when Steve’s hand drops right over his wrist to keep him from doing so.
“Did I say you could have some?”
Oh. Oh fuck. Maybe… maybe that’s what’s happening to him tonight. The last time he felt something like this was when he was on leave between tours and he hooked up with his friend Nat. It was just a sex thing. Bucky and her agreed right away. Thing is, she’s a dom, and up till then, that had always been Bucky’s role. But he found submitting to her to be so… so… relieving. From the second she ordered him to his knees to being wrapped in her arms while he cried in the most cathartic way hours later.
Bucky’s longed for that release ever since then, but hasn’t found one person who’s made him feel like he could. Not until he has his wrist held by Steve Rogers like that, and a shiver runs down his spine and settles in his belly.
“N-no,” he murmurs. Eyes locked with Steve’s. “You didn’t.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He doesn’t let go of Bucky’s wrist. Instead, Steve guides the finger full of cream to his mouth. Bringing it right to his mouth but doing nothing more, Bucky realizes that he’s eyes have dropped from Steve’s and are now completely focused on those lips. He swallows the hard lump in his throat as he waits. A whimper catches when Steve finally sucks it off. Sucks the very tip of Bucky’s finger into that hot, moist mouth, and Bucky’s cock begins to stir.
“You wanna taste something sweet?” Steve asks, and barely waits for Bucky’s nod before scooping some of the cream with his finger and spreading it over his bottom lip. “Come get some.”
Stunned, Bucky just sits there for a moment that Steve must deem as too long since his tongue snakes out and licks his lip clean.
“Too late,” he hums. And then, much to Bucky’s chagrin, Steve swipes some more with his finger and sensually licks it off.
This sonuvabitch is… is better than Bucky at this. Bucky’s head is spinning before he realizes he’s actually holding his breath. He lets it out slowly.
“What the hell is happening?”
Steve chuckles. “We’re at a fetish bar, aren’t we?” His eyes are dark and heated. “Or am I just way off the mark?”
The way Steve says that sounds like he’s sure he’s not wrong about his assessment at all. In fact, he doesn’t even sound nervous about it.
“But you’re… I mean…” Bucky can barely get the words out he’s just so thrown by this turn of events. “You’re Captain America.”
Steve’s eyes lower for just a moment before rising back up to Bucky’s. “No. I’m Steve Rogers.”
Stomach clenching, Bucky realizes that he’s done that several times, and each time Steve has corrected him in such away.
“M’sorry, Steve.” That must be really aggravating and Bucky’s not helping. The world already sees him as only Captain America. No one sees the man behind that. “I just never thought… I mean… did you even do thing like that in the good ol’ days?”
“Sweetheart,” Steve says with a laugh. “We old timers are the ones who formalized the modern scene.” Sounds like someone’s done a bit of research on how things have changed. And he’s not wrong. A lot of the modern scene and what it is now came from Steve’s generation. “We may not have invented it, but we started perfecting it. But, uh…” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “I never… I mean… I know what I like. And I’ve… I mean I…”
“Steve?” Bucky eases himself into Steve’s statement. “Are you… a virgin?”
His entire face burns red. “I’ve done… stuff. Just not… that. And like I said, I know what I like.”
That’s for damn sure. Even now, with his face bright red and admitting that he’s never gone all the way, Steve holds this sense of… well, dominance. Bucky can feel himself drawn to it like a moth to the flame. He’s ready to eaten by the flames and burn happily within them.
And yet he finds himself saying, “You don’t want to do this with someone like me.”
That seems to throw Steve. He shakes his head in confusion.
“Why?”
Bucky’s never been ashamed of his sex life before. Like Steve, he knows what he likes. He’s never been a relationship type of guy. Never felt that spark with anyone to even consider changing that. To be honest, he’s still not ashamed, it’s just… Steve Rogers deserves better than that.
“I’ve been… with a lot of people, Steve. I don’t even think I’ve ever been in a relationship.” Not an adult one anyway. “I… I came over to you tonight because I was gonna nail you. Because that’s what I do.”
“What do you do?”
“I do Big, Beefy, Blondes.” He chuckles darkly. “Any Big, Beefy, Blonde. If someone checks all the boxes, I’m game. Even if I don’t get their name. All that matters is I get them. I even hooked up with someone before I came out tonight.” Bucky’s gonna regret this in the morning -- maybe later tonight, maybe even in five minutes -- but he gets up and scoots out of the booth. “Sorry I wasted your time.”
He’s gonna leave. He’ll go home and when asked what happened Bucky’ll make something up without giving away who he’s spent half the night with. That’s what he would do anyway if Steve’s hand didn’t wrap around his wrist again just as he tries to make the biggest mistake of his life and give up a shot to have sex with Steve fucking Rogers.
“I don’t want you to go,” Steve says. Hand still cuffing Bucky’s wrist.
“But--”
“I told you,” he interrupts. Very serious like. “I know what I like. And I like you. I want you.”
“Yeah, but--”
“Your past does not define you. So what if you’ve had a shit ton of sex and I’m technically still a virgin? It doesn’t matter to me. I want you.” He adjusts the hold on Bucky’s wrist so that he can guide them to face each other. “I want you.”
And that’s how Bucky Barnes ends up on his knees in a back alley behind a fetish gay bar sucking on Steve Rogers’ dick.
“Oh fuck…” Steve groans.
Fingers scrape against the top of Bucky’s scalp as Steve takes a tighter grip in his hair. The ground it cold and wet underneath his knees, last night’s rain still making its presence known in the damp concrete. There’s a dumpster right next to them, but they’re still close enough to the opening of the alley that anyone who happens to glance down it will see the top of Steve’s head. Maybe the bottom of Bucky’s feet, too, if they look hard enough.
All of it is just getting Bucky off even more. The idea that he can be caught any fucking second with a this huge cock shoved down his throat -- and dear god is it huge -- burns in his belly, curls his toes, makes him squirm with anticipation.
“Holy shit…” Steve breathes. “You’re so fuckin’... fuckin’ good at this…”
Well if that doesn’t go straight to Bucky’s head. Only not in the way it normally would. Boosting his ego with words that pat him on the back. No, not when Steve says it. When Steve says it, it makes Bucky whimper and chase the praise with the back of his mouth. Cause he wants more of that. Needs more of that… oh please, Steve.
Bucky’s peering up at him. Desperate for more of that, and Steve glances down at him. Half-lidded and just a bit breathless, but he’s smirks. Oh he’s good. Oh, is he fucking good. One of the hands gripped in Bucky’s hair leaves and pets over the side of his face.
“You like that, don’t you?” Steve asks. “Me telling you how good you are.” He holds Bucky’s head still. “Look at you.” His thumb traces the outline of his dick through Bucky’s cheek. “You need this, don’t you? So badly that you’ll drop to your knees for a total stranger.” Almost a total stranger. This is Captain America. The whole world knows him. But Bucky’s finding himself most intrigued by Steve Rogers. “You know how dirty it is back here? We’re next to a dumpster. There’s garbage all around us… there’s even a condom behind you, and you don’t even care, do you?”
Shaking his head -- because he doesn’t care, holy shit he just doesn’t care about anything other than getting Steve’s dick further down his throat and hearing Steve say he’s good again -- Bucky tries to suck him back down again. Only Steve keeps that grip and won’t let him. Instead, he holds Bucky’s head still and eases on in. So far Bucky gags -- only slightly -- and Steve begins to withdraw.
“Too much?” Steve murmurs, and how is this guy even real?
Moisture fills Bucky’s eyes and there’s drool leaking out of the sides of his mouth. He’s out of breath and breathing hard through flared nostrils. Reading himself for Steve to push back in because if he doesn’t Bucky might burst. Steve smiles at him.
“So good,” he says softly. Absently even. “So good for me.” And Bucky’s tingling all over. Skirting the edge of paradise by just a handful of words. “Pinch my thigh if it’s too much. Don’t worry, I’ll feel it. And I’ll stop.”
He pushes back in again. Holds Bucky over him just long enough to make his eyes water more and choke a little, and then air is rushing to his lungs again. Though he hardly notices since Steve’s praise floats over him.
When Steve’s foot nudges Bucky’s knees apart, Bucky realizes that he’s been frantically thrusting his hips. Needing friction so badly even though he’s getting nothing but air. Until Steve slips his leg between Bucky’s and the touch through his jeans alone has Bucky groaning.
“Go ahead,” Steve says. “You can give yourself a little something.” He gives Bucky’s cheek a little tap. “But do not get yourself off. You stop before you come.”
Bucky nods and gets to it. Starts humping Steve Rogers’ shin like a little fucking yappy dog and fucked if Bucky cares. He’s got Steve’s dick shoved down his throat and Steve’s words floating through his head and Steve’s leg between his legs and Bucky’s not sure if he’s ever felt so much going on within his own body at once.
In fact, he’s not sure he’d even be able to control himself and stop before he’d come if Steve didn’t suddenly grunt and stiffen and groan as he shoots off in Bucky’s mouth.
Continuing to suckle until Steve’s completely emptied out, Bucky swallows him all down. Presses a soft kiss to Steve’s thigh and he’s very aware that he’s never done that before.
Bucky’s stomach drops though as he’s leaned back on his ankles -- erection pulsing painfully against the rough fabric of his jeans -- when Steve quickly pulls his pants back up. Stuffing the ends of his shirt hastily into the top of them like he’s getting ready to bolt. Bucky’s never felt like this before. Never felt the fear that shoots through him now at the idea of someone rushing to get the hell out of there after hooking up. In fact, it’s usually what he’s doing. Not quite as hectic as Steve is. Bucky at least returns the favor, thanks his hook up for a good time, and always kisses them before saying we should do this again some time, even though he -- and presumably the second party -- doesn’t really mean it.
Right now though, he’s pretty sure he’s giving Steve a most pathetic look. Eyes wide and just a little heartbroken. He tries to tell himself it’s just because he wanted Captain America to play with his dick for a while just so he can say that Captain America played with his dick. But that would be a lie, and Bucky’s trying really hard to believe that lie right now, but he doesn’t.
He wants Steve to stay here. With him. He wants Steve to stay and he wants to kiss him and be held by him and he really wants Steve to fuck him and not just to say that Captain America lost his virginity to him. He wants to give that to him. Wants to be that special someone for Steve Rogers like he’s never been that special someone for anyone.
Sure that Steve is getting ready to make his escape, Bucky feels the slump to his shoulders and then nearly yelps when Steve is grabbing him by the arms to hoist him back to his feet. Bucky’s dizzy and confused -- the tears that he didn’t realize were welling up behind his eyes suddenly drying -- as he’s pushed backward and hits the brick wall behind him.
Steve’s lips slam against his like he’s never tasted anything so wonderful in his life. His hands are all over Bucky’s body. Feeling every inch of him and sliding up his shirt and pressing deeply into his skin. Bucky groans against Steve’s mouth when one of those hands palms against his hard on. Rubs over his jeans enough that Bucky starts to whimper. It hurts. It hurts so good.
“You wanna get off, Bucky?” Steve whispers in his ear. “Hm? Wanna come?”
“Yes, yes… oh, please, Steve…”
Steve leaves that hand pressed up against him, but no longer rubs. “Go on. You wanna get off, you be a good boy and get yourself off just like this.”
The whimper that Bucky attempts to hold back and fails is probably the most pathetic sound that he’s ever made as he starts fucking himself against Steve’s hand. The second he starts, Steve is sucking and licking and nipping at his neck.
“You know, Bucky,” Steve murmurs between kisses up and down his neck and across his throat and along his collarbones. “Anyone can see you right now. Trying so hard to get yourself off. If you make those pretty noises a little louder you’re gonna get caught.” Those noises do get louder when Steve’s hand cups a bit and pushes back just one. “Oh you want that, don’t you? You want the whole world to see Captain America getting you off…”
“Steve!” Bucky shouts as he knees start to tremble. “Steve… please… please, please…”
He knows that Steve’s pretty much already given him the go ahead to come, but Bucky needs to hear it. Needs to know that he can because he’s been good for Steve.
“Go on, Bucky,” he says softly. Mouth nibbling on his earlobe. “Come. Let go.”
The world lights up around him. Bright and hot and silent as his body bursts into flame all at once and then falls out from under him. Steve keeps him from toppling to the dirty ground. Effortlessly holding Bucky’s spent body against his so that Bucky doesn’t even need to hold any of his own weight. Steve is kissing the top of his head and gently rubbing circles into his back.
“Steve…” Bucky mumbles with whatever voice he can find. “I…” He wants this so badly. “I want you to make love to me.”
Steve brushes some of Bucky’s damp hair away from his brow. He leans in and presses the sweetest kiss Bucky’s ever had into his lips. Kisses Bucky like he’s making love to him already.
“Okay,” Steve whispers. Skims his thumb under Bucky’s lip as he fills Bucky’s heart with more hope than he’s had in years. “Okay.”
***
Eventually, Bucky’s pretty sure that he and Steve are going to have to face the world again. Four days ago they checked into this motel located just two blocks from the bar they met at and they haven’t left it since. Steve swears he has no place to be -- No place, I’d rather be, Buck -- and Bucky’s already used two sick days from his data entry job which he hates anyway.
That first night, after their back alley adventures, Steve was nervous. Made sense given he’d never done what Bucky wanted before. While Bucky’s experience lies in the physical form, he was just as new to the emotions that went along with it.
At first, Bucky took to guiding Steve. But after a little bit of fumbling and nervous second thoughts, Steve no longer needed that guiding hand. With the stamina and refractory period only capable of Captain America, they’ve gone at it for hours. Even though Steve’s the inexperienced one, he’s teased things out of Bucky that Bucky never even imagined.
Steve has had him on all fours while he pushed into him. Steve has had him seeing stars with each scrape of his prostate. Steve has had him calling him sir and eating from his fingers. Steve has had him flat on his back, legs shoved up and over his head, while he licked and lapped and fucked him with his tongue until Bucky was sobbing and pleading for Steve to make him come.
The only real breaks they’ve had is to eat and sometimes use the bathroom and to sleep. Which has seen Bucky sleeping in Steve’s arms and, to be honest, Bucky hasn’t felt safer falling asleep since coming home. He’s never wanted to spend the night with anyone. The night terrors alone have been enough to keep him from doing that. The last time he attempted that with someone, he woke up in a cold sweat having a panic attack and the guy he was seeing dumped him on the spot. Said he didn’t have time to waste with someone so damaged. Steve, though, Steve held him through the shaking and hyperventilating and burning tears when Bucky woke up screaming. Said he got them, too. And then just kissed him into an hour long session of the most passionate sex Bucky’s ever had.
And they don’t seem to be done. Four days just isn’t enough.
“Hands behind your back,” Steve instructs as Bucky bounces over his dick. “No touching.”
Bucky whimpers and does as he’s told. Steve is kind enough to take hold of his waist to keep him from losing his balance. Steve is also kind enough to tilt Bucky’s hips back a bit so that every thrust he makes inside of him hits his prostate. Tears squeeze out of Bucky’s eyes. He started asking at least an hour ago to come. Steve still hasn’t let him.
“Oh, fuck!” Bucky shouts as he heaves another gulp of oxygen into his lung. “I wanna come, Steve, I wanna come!”
“I said no,” Steve answers as he gathers Bucky’s sweaty body into his arms and then dumps him down on the bed. He hooks one of Bucky’s leg under his arm and pushes back in. “Oh shit you feel so good, baby.”
Bucky wants to tell him he does, too, but all that comes out are shouts and groans and more pleading. Maybe Steve will let him come soon or maybe he won’t. As much as Bucky wants to come -- and he wants to oh fuck does he want to -- he’ll be fine if Steve makes him wait another hour.
Because as long as Bucky’s being bluntly honest, he can be bouncing on Steve’s big cock forever. Eventually they’ll go back to their lives, blissfully changed by a random encounter when Steve Rogers decided to check out a bar that Bucky Barnes happened to be at.
Bucky’s had too many Big, Beefy, Blondes to count. And even though it’s only been four days and despite the fact that this was supposed to be just about sex, Bucky’ll be pretty honored if Steve’ll be his only Big, Beefy, Blonde from now on.