Steve is spooning Bucky, an arm draped loosely around his middle, laying on the large sofa opposite the TV. His lips are against Bucky’s hair, breathing him in.
It’d be an average Thursday night if it wasn’t for Steve being buried to the hilt inside of him and showing no signs of moving any time soon.
Bucky’s breaths come in quick, shallow pants.
“Steve,” he grits out. His vision is hazy around the edges. He can’t keep track of the movie playing on the flatscreen like Steve evidently can. Probably could barely see his own hand in front of his face if he tried.
“Mhm?” Steve hums back softly, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Bucky lets out a shuddering breath, and Steve tuts. “You alright sweetheart? You’re shaking.”
“God, fuck you,” Bucky wheezes.
“Shh,” Steve says, as if he’s trying to soothe him. “You’re tightening up, baby. You know how I get when you do that. Don’t want to make a mess of the sofa, do we?”
“I don’t give a shit about the sofa,” Bucky growls, hot everywhere.
“Couple of inches in you and our nice home means nothing to you, huh? Real disloyal of you, Buck,” is all Steve comments. Bucky’s fingers clench and unclench, flexing just for something to do, some way to work out the restlessness building inside him with every passing second. “Say the word and I’ll let you go,” Steve assures him.
Bucky grits his teeth and shoves back against Steve because like hell. The jerky movement has Steve’s cock jabbing into his prostate head-on, and it feels so good Bucky gasps, and makes to do it again, hips rolling back, but then Steve’s formerly easy grip on his waist tightens in warning, his strong fingers digging into his skin.
“Stay still. I’m not gonna ask you again.”
“C’mon,” Bucky wheedles. “Just- just a little, just fuck me a little,” he pants, not even sure of what he’s saying.
“You want it bad, huh?” Steve asks, to which Bucky nods, head heavy. “Maybe later,” Steve says.
“Fuck,” Bucky groans. “You’re fucked up, you know that? This how you get your kicks? By sticking your cock in me and leaving it there for safekeeping?”
“Where else would I put it?” Steve asks, like Bucky’s just being silly, like he’s asking questions that have obvious answers. Where indeed. “Besides, can you blame me? Ass as pretty as yours, I don’t know how I get anything done around here. You’re lucky I don’t keep you in bed all the goddamn time, practically made to be fucked, kept stuffed full all day ‘til you’re swollen with it.”
Bucky chokes on his own retort. Steve rubs a thumb against Bucky’s sweat-slick flesh and hums contentedly.
“I ever tell you how hot you are inside?” Steve asks, lips by Bucky’s ear now. He tugs on the lobe with his teeth, and Bucky shivers. “Yeah, nice and warm for me. Don’t get me started on how tight you are, Jesus. Don’t worry, you be good for me and I’ll fuck you nice and loose. That sound like a plan, sweetheart?”
Bucky nods dumbly. The arousal within him starts to give way to something more, like paper catching fire, he’s– Jesus, he’s–
He can feel Steve throbbing inside of him. Bucky swallows. “Steve.” It’s been– it feels like hours that they’ve been like this, God, it feels like years, but it can’t have been more than thirty minutes since Steve made a move on him, tugged Bucky’s underwear out of the way and pushed his fingers into where Bucky was still wet from when they’d fucked not much earlier, then shoved up into him, sudden and rough, and then warned Bucky not to move. Then went right back to watching fucking Pretty Woman.
“Yeah, baby,” Steve says, his voice coming slow and warm like honey. Bucky feels himself going lax in Steve’s grip, muscles he didn’t even know he had clenched loosening. “That’s it,” Steve is crooning. “That’s it, you just relax for me.”
Steve doesn’t move an inch. There’s no sense of urgency whatsoever in his voice - he sounds preoccupied even, like Bucky and the fact that his dick is in his ass isn’t even close to being the first thing on his mind right now. His hips still ache from where Steve had been gripping him possessively earlier, and Bucky finds himself getting lost in the memory, the feeling. It takes Bucky a second too long to realise he’s panting quietly now, face turned into the sofa cushion. Steve keeps stroking his back absently, and Bucky breathes and breathes and waits.
He can feel Steve dripping out of him, pre-come sliding all over his thighs and getting him messy. Every so often Steve will move, just slightly, shifting his hips a little, and his cock will find a new angle inside of him, and it makes Bucky’s heart thud every time. Bucky’s own cock throbs and leaks, and he feels dirty and wet and out of his mind. Steve’s warm, plastered against his back, big and solid against him. Bucky closes his eyes and tries to match his short, shallow breaths to Steve’s long, deep ones.
By the time the movie starts to near its end, Bucky’s frustration has peaked at least three times over. But he hasn’t moved.
The credits start to roll.
Steve’s hand, the one permanently attached to Bucky’s waist thus far, shoves him over face-down into the sofa, straddling Bucky’s thighs. His cock stays inside him the whole time, slipping a couple of inches out and then back in. Bucky gasps wetly, and Steve’s fingers slide against Bucky’s rim, rubbing the sensitive flesh. “More slick?” he asks, voice sounding tight for the first time all evening.
Bucky shakes his head, aware of how frantic the motion is, not giving a shit. “No- no, just do it, fuck me.”
“Look who I’m asking,” Steve says, sounding amused. “When you get like this, you’d take it dry if that was the only way you could have it. Isn’t that right, Buck?” Steve asks, and then he’s rummaging in the cushions for some lube. Bucky doesn’t have the presence of mind to wonder when he stashed it, the fact that this debauchery was premeditated–
“Uh-huh,” Bucky gasps, easy, hearing Steve pump the bottle.
“Uh-huh,” Steve repeats, confirmatory. “Now I’ve got to play mind reader to keep from tearing you apart,” he says in faux-exasperation, his newly slick fingers probing at Bucky’s swollen hole like he’s gonna slide them in too.
“Steve,” Bucky breathes, glassy-eyed. Steve’s fingers skate over his perineum. “Steve.”
“Mm. Something you want?” Steve says, because he’s an asshole, a goddamn son of a bitch. Bucky gives a muffled wail, and Steve graciously gives up the act. “I know. I got you,” he says, and finally, finally, Steve slowly pulls out of him, making Bucky tremble. He whimpers at the sudden emptiness and Steve keeps a grounding hand on Bucky’s back while he slicks himself up then fucks back up into him, forcing a shocked moan out of Bucky, and fuck, he sees white behind his eyes, feels the room spin, whines for it high in his throat.
“Steve,” Bucky’s whimpering, “Steve, come on, just fuck me, please baby, want it–“
“‘Please’, huh? Would you look at that,” Steve’s grinning, voice rough, both hands on Bucky’s hips as he pulls out and fills him up again, hard and fast. “Fucked some manners into you, did I?”
“Barely fucked me at all,” Bucky slurs. “Steve, you promised, don’t make me wait,” Bucky groans, and then Steve drags Bucky’s ass up and starts to pound into him. His pace is relentless, the shock of it leaving Bucky open-mouthed, drooling into the cushions. Steve rolls his hips and Bucky takes it, whimpering high and needy. It makes Steve a little crazy, his thrusts getting vicious. Bucky couldn’t even arch up if he wanted to, couldn’t get two hands under himself if he tried.
“Look at you. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.” Bucky gives a noise of vague indignation at Steve acting like he’s the one who’s died of frustration a thousand times over at the hands of someone else here, after all that’s been done to him, as if Steve couldn’t have had him three times in the past two hours if he wanted to. But Steve just laughs, sharp, breathy. He slows down just a little , lowers his body til he’s over Bucky, on him, til Bucky can feel him hot and huge against his back.
Bucky moans, squirms just so Steve will hold him down, still, and he does, face in Bucky’s neck, hips rolling into Bucky’s spot. Bucky hisses and then whines, “Oh– oh.”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, strokes Bucky’s hair back out of his face, tugging a little to get Bucky’s face out from where it’s smothered into a cushion, so he can hear him. “Yeah, baby, that’s it, listen to those pretty little sounds. That feel good, hm? You gonna come?”
Bucky nods, a sob stuck in his throat as Steve grinds against his prostate, his wet cock dragging against the fabric of the couch almost painfully.
“Oh-“ Bucky gasps, slurring and moaning, and Steve fucks him slow and unyielding, deep and bruising, hips rolling intently. “Give- gimme-“
“God– Buck,” Steve breathes. “Always so good for me, honey.”
Bucky’s toes curl, gasping and gasping, letting out short, shuddering cries of ah-ah- and Steve keeps fucking him, cock dragging in and out of him like they’ve got all the time in the world, like Steve’s made it his mission to take him and apart and then put him back together again right here in their living room and there’s not a man alive who can stop him. Bucky’s gonna come, he can can it from his fingertips to low down in his gut, all-consuming, terrifying. Steve kisses his skin, sucking deep bruises into his neck, his back.
“Jesus, baby, yeah,” Steve rasps in response to Bucky’s never-ending mewls, to his open-mouthed pleas. “You like that? You like getting fucked?”
“Ah,” Bucky pants, “uh-huh- uh- ah-“
Bucky’s orgasm hits him like a bat to a ball, and he’s choking out Steve’s name, body writhing underneath him. The world spins out of focus, everything else but the pleasure inside him getting sucked out until he’s in a vacuum, free-falling.
Steve moans, peppering kisses along the back of his neck, lips brushing the flushed skin.
“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “That’s good, baby, Jesus, so sweet, so fucking good-“ Steve grunts and his hips stutter before Bucky feels him coming, pulsing inside of him, making him shiver.
Steve slowly pulls out of Bucky and then slumps down on top of him, weight half on, half off of him. Bucky sighs contentedly.
“Worth the wait?” Steve asks in a murmur. Bucky’s too blissed out to even pretend to contend the point. He nods, shuffling and turning until his face is buried in Steve’s chest, can feel Steve pulling him close, breathing him in again.
“Mm,” he says, and reaches for Steve’s hand and wraps his arm around him. “Tired.” Steve presses his lips to Bucky’s hair, pulling him even closer. Bucky smiles dazedly, pleased, and then briefly leans up to press his lips to Steve’s before going back to smushing his cheek against Steve’s warm chest. “Gonna sleep.”
Steve kisses his head. “Sleep as long as you want, Buck.”
“Mhm,” Bucky murmurs. “Thank you. Needed that.”
Steve tucks Bucky even closer. “Always gonna be here to give you what you need,” he promises. With those words sitting warm in his chest, Bucky drifts off to sleep.