Steve was always leaving his pencils scattered around their old apartments.
It’s not like they had much counter space to spare in their coldwater walkup. The kitchen counter, their salvaged dining room table, hell, half the time their bed was littered with the damn things. Bucky was always finding a rainbow of shavings and pencil stubs dotting every flat surface.
“What do you need so many pinks for?” he’d asked once, to Steve’s patient chagrin.
Salmon, coral, bubblegum, crepe, fuchsia, rouge, magenta, rosewood. Steve could name colors for hours. Pinks for ballet slippers and pinks for fresh-kissed lips, pinks for tulips stolen from Park Avenue planters and pinks for the wonder of Steve’s cock in Bucky’s hand. Pinks for the slips that meant stale bread for dinner and pinks for the slice of cake they’d shared at Becca’s birthday. Pink for a drop of blood in the ice, and pink for the first light of sunrise over their last battlefield. When the color had soaked back into Bucky’s life, it had been the pinks that had come bleeding in first. Steve’s body may be different than the one that had sketched Bucky in the summer heat of their rat-trap on Hicks, but the pink of Steve’s cheeks is an older memory than even Hydra could stamp out of him.
“Pretty,” Bucky sighs, one hand slung behind his head while the other lazily strokes his cock. Steve’s on top of him, big thighs straddling over Bucky’s, his cock hanging heavy and so close that Bucky’s knuckles graze it on the upstroke. They’ve got counter space to spare now, and a huge desk for Steve to sketch at. Steve even has a Stark Industries mug to hold all his pencils. Bucky doesn’t need art when he’s got Steve looking like this.
“Bucky,” Steve says, his lips barely closing around Bucky’s name and his eyes dragging down to Bucky’s cock. An hour with Bucky’s tongue up his ass tends to relieve Steve of most of his words. There are still a million ways he can say Bucky’s name, like the pleading tone he takes now with one arm crossed over his chest. Bucky stares up at him, his eyebrow arched and his hand twisting over the head of his cock. Steve’s flushed from the tips of his ears to the concave slope of his stomach.
“You know what I want, baby,” Bucky says, licking his lips and staring at the covered promise of Steve’s tits.
Maybe it’s Tony’s teasing about Double-D Rogers, maybe it’s all Nat’s jokes about getting them matching sports bras when they run together, or maybe it’s just the one part of his body Steve still hasn’t adjusted to. Steve’s as self-conscious about his tits as a prom date.
“Let me see ‘em, Stevie, c’mon.”
The shade of pink that Steve turns when he’s blushing might be Bucky’s favorite color on earth.
They’d had so little time together before everything went to shit. Armed with his morbid humor, Bucky wonders if he could have resisted decades of torture if he’d known how fucking hot Steve would be when he got all flustered about his rack.
“Told you I love ‘em, didn’t I?”
Steve bites his lip, worrying it with his teeth. Even reticent like this, his hips move in needy circles, jerking against the empty air like Bucky’s already inside him. He nods. Steve knows what Bucky wants.
“You’re not getting any until you put your hands behind your back.”
Steve’s breath makes tight huffs, a sense-memory of the sounds he used to make when their bodies were the only source of heat they could afford and Bucky worked him up to desperate.
“Buck,” Steve pleads, his arm shaking as he inches it down to reveal the peaked throb of his nipples. Bucky’s mouth waters.
“Stick ‘em out for me,” Bucky says, his voice thick. He slaps his hand lightly against Steve’s hip, just enough to make Steve whine as he finally lowers his arms and threads them behind his back.
Steve’s blushing all the way down to his nipples, a sunrise that crests on the burning apples of his cheeks. That’s a pink for his pencil-box.
“Want to see all of you. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise.”
Bucky knows what Steve wants, too. Steve wants what Steve has wanted since he weighed next to nothing in Bucky’s arms and couldn’t rub two jokes together without wheezing. Steve wants to get fucked.
“Always my best girl, Stevie.”
It had made Steve blush to hear it when they were tangled up in their scratchy sheets in Brooklyn, but it’s nothing compared to the furious red that shocks its way onto Steve’s face now. His eyes are heavy, struggling to focus. He blinks down at Bucky, mulish and tight-lipped as he arches his chest forward. Steve likes to fight it almost as much as he likes to come apart on Bucky’s cock.
“Fucking gorgeous, doll.”
Bucky licks his lips and takes his sweet time stroking his cock as he drinks in Steve on display. The peaks and valleys of Steve’s body deserve a million sketches, a million names for all the colors that spread out just for Bucky. The good-boy blue of his eyes and the fertile gold of his hair, the plush ruby of his open lips, the sweet cream of his inner thighs. Steve’s a palette unto himself.
“You’re gonna ride my dick until those pretty tits bounce for me, Steve.”
“Buck, c’mon.” Steve swallows loudly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His head hangs, a ghost of the schoolboy expression he used to give Bucky when he’d get chided for picking fights and finding trouble where he shouldn’t. Bashful has always been Steve’s best look.
“Get up here.” Bucky swats at Steve’s thigh and beckons him up with two fingers.
Steve knee-walks the few inches up Bucky’s body, strong enough to manage it with a degree of elegance despite his hands behind his back pulling him off balance. Steve’s too fucking gorgeous for his own good. He tilts forward and spreads his legs apart until he’s hovering right over Bucky’s cock. Bucky could sink into him right now, fuck him stupid until they both pass out. It’d still be better sex than 99% of the general population has on a good day. But Steve’s so much more delectable when he’s a mess.
Bucky takes a deep breath through his teeth. “Get me so fucking hard, baby.”
He drags the head of his cock against Steve’s hole, smearing through slick warmth and dragging out the ragged breath Steve makes as he tries to chase it. Steve’s got enough lube in him to take five Buckys in a row.
“You want that, sweetheart? Gonna be good for me?”
“Bucky,” Steve moans, angling himself back. He’s fever-warm where Bucky brushes against him. “Need it.”
They’re both growing into themselves after all these years. Bucky’s metal hand around his dick used to fill him with unease, but it’s just another part of him now. A part that’s strong enough to keep Steve from sinking down all the way when he grips himself tight, teasing at Steve’s hole and dragging the head over his rim.
“Greedy,” Bucky says, his blood rushing hungry in his ears. “Always so fucking greedy for it, Stevie.”
“Want it, Buck, please,” Steve says, grunting in frustration. “I’ll be good, please .” His words slur and his body slips and slides against Bucky’s cock, so wet from Bucky’s careful prep that he can only graze over it.
“What do I want to see? Huh?” Bucky’s not expecting full sentences but Steve’s got a few words left in him yet.
“My, ngh ,” Steve’s eyes drift out of focus as Bucky lines himself up to let Steve sink down onto him. “My tits.”
“That’s right, baby.” Bucky takes a breath to steady himself as Steve grinds down onto him, inching himself into position. Steve’s always so fucking tight. He slips his hand out from between them as Steve seats himself. Steve sways, muscles straining out as he clutches his arms behind his back and circles his hips, finding his center and moaning open-mouthed as he starts to move.
“God, Bucky,” Steve pants, his head rolling back. His cock juts out, heavy-red and wet at the tip. Steve’s chest rises and falls as he works up to a steady, rolling pace, his legs flexing against Bucky’s sides. Steve always wants it deep. He rocks himself down, cutting tight circles with his hips that feel like heaven on earth but don’t do a damn thing for his tits.
“You can do better than that, sweetheart.”
Steve looks down at him balefully, his lower lip trembling.
“Bounce,” Bucky says, his voice low and dangerous as he digs his hand into Steve’s hip, “or I’m jerking off on your ass and calling it a night.”
Steve makes a face that would put a kicked puppy to shame. Bucky holds him, unyielding, watching carefully until Steve melts. Steve doesn’t back down from anything, but he gives in to Bucky like its high art. His shoulders roll back, lax, and his jaw hangs open as he starts to fuck himself on Bucky’s cock. The lines of muscle in his thighs flex and flow as he rises up and sinks himself back down, meeting Bucky’s body with wet sounds and sharp grunts in his chest.
“You’re, Bucky, fuck,” Steve moans, insensible as he picks up speed and there it is, the mesmerizing sway of Steve’s tits shaking. They bounce with each drop of Steve’s hips, firm muscle under smooth skin that gleams in the low light. As much as he loves fucking Steve into the mattress, nothing on earth feels like Steve on top of him.
“Good fucking boy.” Bucky’s hands slide up Steve’s thighs, cool metal and his heated palm coasting over rippling muscle and warm skin. He digs his left hand in hard enough to make Steve clench around him, confident that Steve can take anything Bucky gives him. He’s been marveling at Steve’s strength for decades.
Their bed is strong enough to withstand more than this, but it still gives a warning groan as Steve rides him. There’s a wet pool of precome streaking down to Bucky’s stomach, as pretty and clear as the high moans that Steve makes every time he takes Bucky’s cock to the base. Steve’s eyes flutter closed, just to fly open when Bucky lays a good smack on his ass.
“Nuh-uh, you look at me when you’re taking my cock,” Bucky says, letting it rumble in his chest.
Steve’s eyes are always pretty, but there’s a kind of gorgeous that’s just for Bucky as Steve struggles to keep them focused and open. Bucky remembers when Steve could get drunk, how he’d get sloppy and silly and nod off against Bucky’s shoulder on the IRT. There’s only one thing that gets Steve like that anymore.
“Look at you. You know how fucking gorgeous you are like this? How hot you get me?” Bucky’s voice comes out level but he’s shaking as he skirts his hand over Steve’s hip. Steve hates it when Bucky calls himself part-machine, but that’s not the part that’s going to lose it soon if Steve keeps this up.
Steve’s face is shining, beads of sweat trickling down his temples and a sheen dancing across his collarbones. His toes curl against Bucky’s legs, every inch straining for it as he fucks himself hard.
“Get after it,” Bucky says, the resounding slap of his hand against Steve’s ass making them both groan. Steve’s a force of nature when he puts his back into it, all that strength driving Bucky’s cock so deep he’s shocked he can’t see it against the smooth plane of Steve’s stomach. Steve writhes on top of him, huge and trembling as he rolls his hips and rises up and down, tits shaking like something out of Bucky’s wildest burlesque fever dream.
“That’s all for you, Stevie, take it,” Bucky says, his breath coming in jagged as he blinks up at Steve. “Fucking tits look so good, God, you’re so fucking good for me.”
“Bucky. Buck .” Steve makes these noises high in his throat when he gets like this, desperate fuck-me whines that sound like Bucky’s name dipped in pitch.
Part-machine or not, Bucky’s still human, a fact of which he’s constantly reassured when Steve grinds him down to pure need and his own desperate pulse in his throat. He thrusts up to meet Steve on the next stroke, earning him a surprised huff and Steve’s wide eyes. Bucky curls his hands onto the sharp cut of Steve’s hips, holding him still as he fucks up into him.
“Take my cock so fucking good, baby.”
He rocks up, groaning hoarse at the smacking sound of their bodies together and the bounce of Steve’s tits. Steve’s always been enough for him but there’s so much more of him now. Bucky gets dizzy with it, that Steve’s big body is healthy and strong and his to have, a second chance he’s not sure he deserves but he’ll take all the same.
Bucky surges up, wrapping his arms around Steve’s pin-up waist and pressing his chest to Steve’s stomach. Steve moves with him on instinct, legs wrapping around Bucky and his hands sinking into Bucky’s hair.
“Pretty dick leaking all over me.”
Everywhere their skin meets is slick with sweat and the generous drip of Steve’s cock, not that Bucky needs any liquid proof that Steve’s enjoying himself. His face is wrecked, a thousand shades of pink-red perfect that flare crimson as Bucky closes his mouth over Steve’s nipple and sucks.
“Oh God ,” Steve gasps, gravel in his voice as he arches into Bucky’s mouth. Steve’s salty and hot against his tongue, the pebbled pink of his nipples going hard as Bucky noses along his chest. They can fuck for hours and Steve will always taste clean to him, pure to the marrow even when he’s cracking Bucky’s name between his teeth.
“Buck, I can’t--” Steve’s big hand flexes in his hair, desperate, so close to the edge Bucky can taste it.
“Shh, I know, Stevie, I know. You need me to take care of these titties, I know.”
He flicks his tongue over Steve’s nipple, teasing, just to take the firm swell of his muscle between his teeth and suck. Next time he’ll cover Steve in hickeys here, mark him up purple so they can watch the sunset of his sped-up healing in the afterglow. There’s no way Steve’s lasting that long now. Bucky pulls off him, leaving Steve’s skin spit-wet and cherry-red as he slides one hand up to squeeze rough at his tit. Steve whimpers as Bucky kneads at him.
“Bucky,” Steve says, hissing through his teeth, his hand scrabbling for sweaty purchase on Bucky’s shoulder. So close.
“Gets your pussy wet, doesn’t it, baby?” Bucky barely whispers it, but Steve seizes up around him like Bucky just tripped an air-siren. Blushing pink and scratching over Bucky’s back, Steve’s always his best girl.
“Lemme, gonna come, Buck, let--”
“Do it,” Bucky says, voice gritty and his arms a vice around Steve. Steve’s just holding on as he shakes apart for Bucky, flexing tight around his cock and pulsing warm all over his belly. Bucky pulls him close, planting his face against Steve’s skin so he can breathe in every ripple of muscle and broken moan Steve makes. Steve grinds against him, smearing the warm slick of his come all over Bucky’s skin.
“Make such a fucking mess, baby.”
“Mmm,” Steve groans, his jaw flexing as another pulse of jizz slides onto Bucky’s stomach. Bucky’s whole body narrows down to the heady grip of Steve around him, twitching and pulling, milking at his cock like Steve’s hungry for him on the inside.
“Greedy cunt’s not satisfied, is it?”
“Need it, Buck .” Steve’s spent and loose in his arms but he can still beg for it, and that’s more than enough to push Bucky past the point of his own restraint. He hauls Steve down onto him, fingers curling over those Atlas shoulders to hold him deep as Bucky comes.
“S’yours, baby, fill you – fuck .” Bucky loses himself, dragging his face open-mouthed against any inch of Steve he can get. There’s just the white hum of Steve saying his name and Steve’s tits in his face, pink and warm and safe.
It’s sheer muscle memory that gets them planted on the bed, with Steve on his back and Bucky still inside him. Steve kisses him sloppy and careless, his mouth as lax and warm as his body when Bucky slips out of him.
“Told you I’d take care of you, Stevie.” Bucky kisses along the humming warmth of Steve’s jaw, sucks a bite into the sensitive hollow behind his ear. He lets his breath ghost over Steve’s skin, grinning at the shiver Steve gives him.
“Always take care of you.”
Steve’s eyes go dark when Bucky pushes him to roll onto his stomach, stretching out acres of back and the mouth-watering swell of his ass. Steve wraps his arms around a pillow and buries his face in it as Bucky kisses down the deep-dip of his spine. He mouths over the firm muscle of Steve’s ass and spreads him apart with his palms.
Steve always keeps himself smooth and bare the way Bucky likes. Bucky presses his thumb along Steve’s plushed-up hole, smiling at his other favorite shade of pink.
“Fucked you good, huh? You sore, baby?”
Steve’s answer isn’t even close to a word, just a “muh-huh” that’s swallowed by the pillows.
“Need me to kiss it better?”
Steve just groans and arches back, arms flexing as his ass pushes back into Bucky’s hand. His boy’s always greedy.
“Little cunt’s so pretty like this.”
Bucky’s fingers slide in easy. Steve’s warm and soaked inside, leaking a white line of come between Bucky’s knuckles.
“Should keep you full like this all the time, Stevie.” He settles down between Steve’s legs, shouldering them apart until he can breathe hot against Steve’s skin.
“Buck,” Steve moans, rocking back against Bucky’s fingers.
“Just use this hole whenever I feel like it.” His fingers chase a drip of his own come and tuck it back into Steve’s hole. “Fill you up, over and over.”
He noses against Steve’s smooth, plush taint, one of the only soft parts of his body left. Steve slams a hand against the headboard when Bucky drags the flat of his tongue over it, catching the salty drip of himself and making sure Steve can hear the wet sound of it. Steve’s so fucking cute here, puffy and warm with that pink line running down the middle. Bucky closes his eyes, lost in the wet smacks of his mouth as he licks over soft skin and the steady fuck of his fingers into Steve’s leaking body until Steve starts to tremble against him.
“That feel better, sweetheart?” Bucky crooks his fingers, finding Steve’s prostate in one press. Steve writhes against him, moving like he can’t decide whether to fuck himself against it or scramble up the bed to get away.
“Bucky,” Steve moans wetly, and Bucky would bet his entire left arm that Steve’s drooling into the sheets from both ends.
“Gimme one more, Stevie, know you can.”
Bucky rolls his wrist and presses against Steve’s sweet spot. Steve’s so hot inside, fevered and flushed where Bucky licks between his fingers. Steve’s strength is a stalwart comfort to Bucky in his hours of doubt, but this Steve - the one who’s hitting a higher register than any man his size should be capable of, the one who’s glowing pink and falling apart - that’s the man Bucky fell in love with. Mewling and melting into their bed, Steve gives one last “Bucky” that sacrifices every consonant in his name as Steve spills against the sheets.
Bucky rides him through it, pumping his hand through Steve’s hard shudder, wringing him out until Steve’s a mess. He makes one long, broken moan as Bucky milks out the last echoes of his orgasm, deep and relentless the way Steve needs. All the best parts of Steve have always been buried deep inside him.
“There’s my boy.” Bucky kisses the fucked-warm flush of Steve’s thigh, dragging his cheek against smooth skin and watching the pretty clutch of Steve’s body as he pulls his fingers out of him. Steve’s gorgeous everywhere Bucky looks, from the secret soft parts to the shoulders that bear so much, from the mess of his hair against the pillow to the sweat beading behind his knees. Even his toes look cute where they’re curling against the sheets.
Bucky slides himself up, lumbering like a seal as he rolls over Steve’s thigh and plants his face somewhere in the small of Steve’s back. He’s spooning Steve’s butt and he can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed about it. He rises and falls with Steve’s breathing, moving in a gentle wave that’s as warm as a Rockaway summer.
Steve rolls against him and wriggles down until they’re nose to nose. His lips are hot against Bucky’s, greedy and heedless as he licks into him. Steve kisses like it’s a mission, skirting over Bucky’s teeth and skating over his tongue to suck at Bucky’s lips. He hums as he digs his teeth into Bucky’s lower lip, pinching just enough to make Bucky’s blood run hot all over again.
“You hard again?” Steve’s hazy and clear all at once, big eyes red-rimmed and dopey and his lips a shade any rosebush would be too decent to bloom. The pinks of his cheeks cut sharp circles over his lazy smile as he drags his hand down the sticky mess of Bucky’s stomach.
“I just ate your ass until you came all over yourself, of course I’m fucking hard, Steve.” Bucky rolls his hip until his cock drags against the top of Steve’s thigh.
“Good. Wanna suck you off.” No matter how wrecked he is, Steve always gets back up.
He tugs Bucky to the edge of the mattress and gets his feet on the floor. Steve has no business being that graceful as he crawls off the bed, getting on his knees and edging Bucky’s legs apart. Their sheets are a mess but the cotton’s still cool against Bucky’s skin as he sits up and watches Steve kiss up the inside of his thigh.
“You’re fucking filthy.” Christ, Bucky loves him. Steve’s hand closes around his cock, easy and possessive. He knows Bucky can’t say no, any more than Bucky can keep himself from groaning as Steve cups his balls and grins.
“Come on my tits?” Steve looks up at him, eyelashes deployed to full effect as they bat against his cheeks. A hint of the old shyness creeps over his face as he slowly sticks his chest out and looks up at Bucky.
Bucky sinks a hand into his hair, pulling until he can see the pink of Steve’s scalp and the needy part of Steve’s lips. Steve’s smile is radiant for all that it’s a little lopsided.
“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky says, leaning back on his hand as Steve settles in between his legs. “I can do that.”
Steve was always the one with the clever names for colors. Bucky has his own names, though, ones he’ll never print on any pencil box or stick in any sharpener. He tugs at Steve’s hair and sighs at the heaving flush spreading across Steve’s chest.
Bucky’ll have to add “pearl-necklace pink” to the list.