Lieutenant James Buchanan Barnes "call me Bucky" – as if, this is a military inquest and they're on opposing sides – is a little shit. Steve can just tell from the moment the Lieutenant strides into the meeting room in front of his client, all perfect posture and cocky tilt of his head. He would feel guilty about that being his first thought about the guy if Barnes weren't such a little shit.
It's not as if this is fun for Steve, but it's his job, it's the law; incidents like friendly fire are always followed by an inquiry even if the victim was initially the perpetrator and a Taliban sympathizer who had a psychotic break to boot. So Barnes can drawl "Gee, Sir, what else were they supposed to do when he started shoutin' about infidels and wavin' his gun at them?" all he wants, Steve has a protocol to follow and questions to ask. Barnes knows this. He's a goddamn attorney, for heaven's sake, and this isn't his first case.
Still he's acting like a little shit about it.
Doesn't help that he's... frankly, hot like hell. His uniform is impeccable, all sharp angles and ironed lines, gleaming buttons and a dangerously sweeping curve at the waist. Is it supposed to be sitting on Barnes like it was glued on? Steve doesn't remember that part of the regs.
This isn't something that happens to Steve. Sure, he sees people he finds attractive, and sometimes he happens to find people attractive that make him angry, but never has he met someone and just felt the overwhelming urge to shut him up. With his cock.
Though, to be fair, Barnes started it. He strode into the room like he owned it, and then he looked at Steve like he wanted to (was going to) own him, eyes slowly and obviously moving down Steve's body and back up again. When he shook Steve's hand he smirked, hand lingering longer in the handshake than was strictly appropriate, and his eyes haven't left Steve for one second since. Even when his own client speaks, much less Sam or Natasha who are working the case with Steve, his gaze doesn't waver in the slightest. It gets to the point where Steve can feel those eyes prickling in the back of his neck every time he turns to the aerial view of the site of events pinned to the wall, every time he lowers his gaze to make notes on his tablet.
And then Barnes gets annoyed. What grounds on, Steve doesn't even know; all he can think is that somebody must have dropped the ball somewhere because Barnes is a spoiled brat and Steve really wants to take him over his knee. Or over the table, he's apparently not picky. All he knows is that when Barnes looks up at him from between his eyelashes, mouth pulled into a sullen pout, that the images going through his head are really not appropriate. He pictures bending Barnes over the conference table, pushing his head down by the back of his neck while jerking open his pants, shoving his cock into that tight little ass while Barnes moans his name, pleads for more. He imagines taking Barnes home after, knows exactly where and how he's going to fuck him until he can't walk, until the only word on his lips is Steve's name and maybe "please".
And Barnes is looking at him like he knows exactly what Steve is thinking.
All in all, he's quite relieved once the hearing is over and Barnes leaves with a sharp about turn that somehow conveys "fuck you" to all of them really well, all perfect posture and inappropriate tilt of his chin again.
"Jesus," Natasha says once the door has snicked shut. "What's his problem?"
Sam raises one eyebrow. "I don't know, maybe the fact that a man of his client's unit tried to shoot them and now he's being questioned about whether shooting back was the right thing to do?"
Natasha snorts. "Whatever, we all know this is a case as clean-cut as this kind of thing gets. What I mean is the fact that I spent half the meeting wondering if he was going to leap across the table and jump Steve." She raises an eyebrow at him. "And I'm not sure if it would have been in the fun way or not."
Steve isn't sure either. And Natasha is looking at him as if she expects him to offer an explanation when he absolutely doesn't have one and when all he can think is about how he would have pushed Barnes on his back, slid his knee between his thighs and messed up that perfectly pressed collar. "Let's just finish this," he says, annoyed at himself. He distinctly remembers being professional until about two hours ago, when Barnes stepped into his life. What the hell did that insolent asshole do to him that all Steve can think about now is fucking him until he can't speak?
The look Natasha and Sam share doesn't exactly calm him down, and he's clipped with both of them as they wrap up the details and discuss if they need to hear Barnes' client again. He probably owes them some apologies on a day when he's a little less wired, horny and pissed off.
If he had a boyfriend, once the meeting concludes Steve would be going straight home to fuck him silly, but he likes to think he has a little more decency and wouldn't feel like this about a guy he's only just met if he were in a relationship. He should probably go to the gym to work off his frustration, he thinks, feeling prickly and annoyed as he leaves his briefcase at the office and makes a beeline out of the building.
Only to find a very familiar figure waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.
There is no doubt about what Barnes is doing there. He's leaning against the wall with a tilt to his hips that is definitely nothing but an invitation, ostensibly focused on the screen of his mobile, but as Steve gets closer he sees that the corners of Barnes' mouth are curled up in that same smug smile he remembers from the meeting every time Barnes delivered what he probably considered a particularly clever quip.
Just you wait, Steve thinks, keeps his expression placid except for a slight narrowing of his eyes, and walks past Barnes without acknowledging him at all. A moment later he hears footsteps behind him, and now it's the corners of his mouth curling up in a probably smug smile. Oh, Barnes is going to get it.
He's got his bike parked in the garage but he forgoes it in favor of the bus. At the stop Barnes keeps his distance, leans against the stop a couple of steps behind Steve with his attention on his phone, but once the bus gets there he follows closely on Steve's heels as he gets on, then heads into the standing space in the middle of the bus. There are seats free but Barnes eschews them just like Steve did, instead settles right next to Steve against the window all without even once looking at him. In his shiny dress uniform he looks especially out of place – Steve probably does too, but they probably also look like they belong together because of it.
Steve tightens his grip on the handle and stares straight ahead. Next to him Barnes snorts softly and then bumps into Steve's side, ostensibly because the bus breaks none too gently, but Barnes doesn't move away afterwards. Acutely aware of every place they're touching – hips, shoulder, upper arm – Steve locks his jaw. His breath remains deep and even, he makes sure of that.
At his stop he stirs to push the bus' button, and finally Barnes pulls away from him. As they exit the bus he stays close to Steve though, that damn phone still in hand as he follows. In every reflective surface – windows, parked cars – Steve checks if he's still there and tells himself there's nothing compulsive or obsessive about that.
They get to his building. Steve unlocks the door and holds it open for Barnes, raising his eyebrow at him, and Barnes smiles at him as he saunters past, smug and sweet and god, Steve wants to put him on his knees.
Barnes strides into the building like he owns it, just like he did the meeting room earlier, heading confidently for the elevators as if he knows which floor Steve's condo is on. For a second Steve considers making him wait, checking for mail, maybe taking the stairs instead just to make a point, but just because Barnes is acting like a brat doesn't mean he has to as well.
The elevator doors open and Barnes saunters inside, settles in the corner with both hands on the handlebars, legs spread a little. It's an invitation and a challenge, and it would take a stronger man than Steve to resist either, much less both at once. He presses the button for his floor and then approaches Barnes, stepping up to him. He's just an inch, maybe two taller but that small difference in height is enough to allow him to crowd Barnes further into the corner, stepping in with one foot between Barnes', his hands on the handlebars on each side of Barnes' hips.
Expression placid Barnes watches, chin tilted up, and Steve wants to bury his fingers in that perfectly combed hair, pull his head back none-too-gently. The proximity is intoxicating; he feels himself growing hard as his self-control wavers.
He keeps his hands to himself. "You got a lot of nerve, Barnes," he murmurs lowly. They're touching nowhere but Steve lets his breath fan across Barnes' cheek, leans in close enough that Barnes can feel his body heat.
"Told you to call me Bucky, sir," Barnes murmurs back, eyes heavy-lidded and dark and oh, he knows exactly what he's doing.
"What makes you think you get to tell me anything, Barnes?" Steve asks, one eyebrow going up.
Barnes licks his lips. They're close enough that Steve can almost feel his tongue on his skin. "You want me to beg, sir? 'Cause I can do that, as loud as you like until the neighbors come knockin'."
They're almost on his floor. Steve meets Barnes'- Bucky's eyes for a second before he leans towards his ear, breathes into it as he whispers, "My condo is soundproof."
Then he pushes away from Barnes just as the elevator comes to a halt and the door slides open. It honestly fills him with a lot of delight to see the way Bucky's eyes widen and how he instinctively draws his lower lip between his teeth, bites down on it, and he fixes that image in his mind as he turns around and saunters out of the elevator and over to his door. By the time he reaches it Bucky has caught up with him again and is leaning against the wall as Steve unlocks his door. His eyes are fixated on Steve again with that unwavering focus that distracted Steve so thoroughly during the meeting and Steve thanks his lucky stars that he doesn't fumble unlocking his own door. Just past this door, he tells himself, it's the last hurdle, then he can...
The lock clicks and he pulls the door open, steps aside to let Bucky past. Bucky takes one step, another into Steve's condo, turns around with his mouth opening, what will surely be some smartass remark already forming on his lips, but Steve doesn't let it come to that. His self-control is good, but not that good. The moment Bucky is in his space in all his polished, insolent glory Steve abandons everything that held him back before and is on him, reeling Bucky in with one hand on his hip, the other on his neck. Bucky's mouth is already open when when their lips collide, sound vibrating on his tongue and Steve can't do anything but lick it off, thrust his tongue into Bucky's mouth while pressing their bodies together. Oh, he's been picturing getting his hands on Bucky all day and it's even better than he imagined; the way Bucky melts into him, wraps his arms around Steve's shoulders and opens his mouth eager and wide, the flavor of bitter coffee faint on his tongue.
The thing is, Steve isn't normally the type for this. He doesn't do hook-ups or one-night-stands; he doesn't see someone and wants to fuck them into the mattress so intensely he's actually going to do it when the opportunity presents itself to him. But there's something about Bucky that makes his hackles rise, makes him want to tighten his grip and mess him up.
So that's what he does. He lets his hand slide up into Bucky's hair, destroys his perfectly combed style while he sucks Bucky's lower lip into his mouth, nibbles on it and sucks until it's hot and swollen. Bucky is moaning into his mouth, one hand wrapped around Steve's tie as he pushes one knee between his legs. So that's how they're going to play it, then? Well, Steve was just waiting for it.
The only reason he doesn't rip Bucky's jacket open is because he does have some respect for the uniform left, even if right now as the only thing standing between him and a naked Bucky it earns only his ire. But the buttons are opened quickly and suddenly Steve is a big step closer to touching, to really touching Bucky. He absolutely can't resist sliding his hands up Bucky's sides, only the thin dress shirt between him and naked skin because of course, of course the punk isn't wearing an undershirt.
"I'm hot enough without it," Bucky says with a wink, because somehow Steve ended up saying that out loud and Bucky uses the break to lean back a little, shrug out of the jacket and slide his palms down his own chest to his belly like a presentation, an invitation. His hard nipples are easy to see through the dress shirt's thin cloth and Steve wants nothing more than to lean in and lick them, but Bucky is smirking at him again like he won something and Steve can't let that stand. Grabbing Bucky's tie in one fist he uses it to pull him in and mash their mouths together again, thrust his tongue into Bucky's mouth the way he did the first time, and just like the first time Bucky makes a noise that might not be quite a moan, but is pretty close. Steve is counting it in any case.
He barely notices Bucky's hands fumbling at the buttons of his jacket until those hands are suddenly on his shoulders, pushing the jacket off him. He allows it, but afterwards immediately pulls on Bucky's tie again, using it to drag him closer. Immediately Bucky's mouth falls open wider against his; he's so eager, ready to take anything Steve delivers to him and the knowledge is dizzying. There is so much he wants to do to Bucky, so many images in his head that for a moment it's hard to focus. All he can feel is Bucky's tongue moving against his, his hot breath in Steve's mouth.
His silk tie in Steve's fist. It's just seconds until Steve has opened the knot, knuckles brushing against Bucky's throat, and then he pulls it off and throws it wherever, he doesn't care. Buttons, finally he can get to the buttons on Bucky's shirt. The first takes a little fumbling before he manages to open it but then Bucky huffs against Steve's lips, laughing at his clumsiness and all of a sudden Steve slips open one button after the other without issue. Bucky finds nothing funny about that.
And finally, finally Steve can get to skin, the glorious expands of Bucky's shoulders as he pushes the dress shirt off them, down his arms. Bucky grins into his mouth as he lifts his hands to present his wrists to Steve, cuffs still buttoned, and Steve opens those too if only to finally get Bucky half-naked.
"Knew you wanted me out of that uniform the moment I stepped into the room," Bucky smirks as he shrugs the shirt off, presenting his naked torso to Steve's gaze.
Steve looks, one dismissive glance that belies the spike of interest he feels at the sight. Then he bodily pushes Bucky into the wall, crowds him against it with one knee shoved between his, pushing up against the bulge in his pants. "What I wanted was to shut you up," he replies lowly over Bucky's moan, growling into his ear. "Didn't much care about what you were wearing or not."
"Yeah?" Bucky's chin tilts up, a breathless challenge even with his lips swollen and red, pupils blown wide. "And here I was expecting you to make me shout your name, sir."
Subtle, that is not. "It's Steve," he tells Bucky, because the whole formal speech deal is hot and all but if Bucky is going to be shouting anything, it's Steve's name, not his rank. Not this time. "And I'll make you shout alright."
"Yeah?" A delighted smile blooms on Bucky's face and he reaches into his pocket. For one absurd seconds Steve thinks he's going to pull out his mobile but instead Bucky produces... a travel-size bottle of lube and a condom.
"You carry that around with you?" Steve asks, full of disbelief, and Bucky snorts a laugh, hands both over to him.
"There's a convenience store a couple of streets down from HQ. You didn't think I was waiting patiently like a good boy the whole time until you came out, did you?" Something in Bucky's tone implies that there is something adorable about that.
Steve completely ignores it. "So you went to buy lube and condoms and then came back to wait for me?" He drops said items into his own pocket and raises one eyebrow. "Sounds to me like something a good boy would do."
Eyes narrowing, Bucky looks at him, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Then he melts against the wall, legs opening wider around Steve's thigh, and smiles sweetly. "You gonna reward me then, Steve?"
He looks like sin personified, mouth wet and red, eyes dark, hair a mess from Steve's hands, half-naked with his pants bulging over his erection, with his legs spread to accommodate Steve's broad thigh between them. It's impossible to resist and Steve doesn't bother to try, reaches out and puts his hand over that bulge, squeezes and watches Bucky's eyes flutter shut as his face goes slack, a sound makes its way past his lips. He squeezes again and with his other hand reaches for Bucky's belt, starts to open it while Bucky is distracted. It should be against the law to be this hot.
Bucky takes what Steve gives him like he's owed, and that pisses Steve off and makes him want to give him more in equal measure. It certainly doesn't make him want to be gentle, though, and so he doesn't bother playing around; once Bucky's pants are open he shoves his hands inside, past the waistband of Bucky's underwear and wraps his fingers around his hard cock. The sound Bucky makes goes straight to his own groin and he bites his lip, supports himself against the wall with one hand so he can feel Bucky writhe against his whole body when he squeezes his cock, jerks him once, twice, three times until Bucky is panting, open-mouthed and dazed.
"I think," Steve murmurs against Bucky's skin, tastes salt on his neck, "that you need to be good some more before you've earned yourself a reward."
Visibly blinking the dizziness away, Bucky looks at him with incomprehension for a moment. Then his gaze clears and he raises one eyebrow. His expression is all challenge all of a sudden as he leans into Steve, kisses him thorough and wet and way too short as he shoves his pants and underwear down, steps out of his shoes and suddenly stands naked before Steve. "Gee, sir," he says then, voice low and face innocent, "I think I need your help with that." Then he pushes against Steve, the pressure unexpected enough that Steve moves off him for a moment and that's all Bucky needs to turn around, expose his long, muscular back and pert ass to Steve.
Steve looks. Of course he looks; Bucky is inviting him to. Those expands of smooth skin, the lines and curves inspire him – not merely to draw Bucky but to mark him, bite and suck red marks into his skin that won't go away for days so every time Bucky moves a certain way, takes his shirt off and sees them, he's reminded of how willingly he gave himself to Steve.
Then it hits him, what Bucky really is asking; he gave Steve the lube and now he's presenting his ass to Steve, there are few ways he could be more obvious without using words. For a moment Steve can't even breathe but that passes quickly, makes way for overwhelming arousal. All of a sudden Steve becomes starkly aware just how hard he is, and of the fact that he's still almost completely dressed, barring his jacket. There is something irresistible about the thought of fucking a naked Bucky while still almost fully dressed himself, though, so he keeps it that way.
Instead he leans into Bucky, plasters his clothed body against Bucky's naked back to whisper in his ear, "I'm always willing to help."
He can hear Bucky swallow and makes a point of grinding his erection against his ass, which doesn't do much for him through the layers of cloth but it makes Bucky shiver. Then Steve pulls the lube out of his pocket and opens the bottle with a plastic click, and Bucky goes still.
Steve slicks his fingers thoroughly, thinks about warming the lube up for a moment before he decides not to bother – he's too impatient anyhow and to be honest, the thought of startling Bucky a little with cold lube is not unattractive. And Bucky does shiver very nicely when Steve guides his fingers down between his cheeks, slicking his crack and rubbing across his hole. When Steve pushes his index finger inside, slowly past that first ring of muscle into the heat of his body, Bucky exhales, then mutters a quiet "fuck" when Steve starts up a rhythm, thrusting his finger in and out, getting Bucky's muscles used to the intrusion.
Steve hums and brushes his lips against the shell of Bucky's ear. This, this is what he imagined practically from the moment he met Barnes; what he pictured all through the meeting. Bucky, still and willing under Steve, letting Steve have his way with him. "This what you thought about?" he murmurs, voice low, almost cruel. "When you stared at me like you were waiting for me to put you over my knee?"
Bucky shivers and exhales, cants his hips back a little more. "This what you thought about?" he counters roughly. "When you stared at me like you wanted to bend me over the table and have your way with me?"
He's far too coherent, Steve thinks and crooks his finger as he pulls out. It takes less than a handful of tries and he's found it; Bucky twitches and lets out an involuntary sounding "Ah!"
Unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin, Steve does it again, watches the way Bucky visibly shivers and, with several gasped breaths, tries to get control of himself again. "Yes," he replies very belatedly, licking his lips and putting his mouth to Bucky's warm shoulder. "This is what I thought about."
"Mmm I good enough- ah! - for you to fffuck me against the wall?" Bucky slurs, words sticking together like he can't manage to get his tongue to work properly.
Scraping his teeth along Bucky's shoulder, Steve tastes salt. He wants to leave a mark, wants to suck the possessiveness into Bucky's skin until it turns red and purple with it, to remind Bucky of this for days whenever he takes a shower or moves a certain way. There really is no good reason not to do it, so Steve doesn't quell the impulse and opens his mouth wide. His teeth set into Bucky's skin right at the area where shoulder meets neck, sensitive but not too sensitive, which means Steve doesn't have to be overly careful as he sucks, worries his teeth over the patch of skin he's working over.
"F-fuck!" Bucky gasps, whole body going still but for a quiver he appears unable to quell. His head tilts to the side, gives Steve more room, and Steve rewards that with another purposeful thrust of his fingers across Bucky's prostate. He relishes the needy sound Bucky makes, how he stays helplessly suspended between Steve's fingers and his mouth.
By the time Steve pulls back, licking his sensitive lips and eying the red area he worked over with satisfaction, small dots of red have raised to the surface of Bucky's skin, harbingers of what's going to become an impressive bruise soon. And Bucky... Bucky is cursing breathlessly, one hand balled into a fist where he's supporting his weight against the wall, legs spread wide as they will go.
Steve hums and presses a soft kiss to that red patch of skin. From the way Bucky's breath hitches as he shivers he's hypersensitive there now, a thought that fills Steve with intense satisfaction. Enough so that he flicks the tip of his tongue out again across that same area of skin before he leans towards Bucky's ear. "Definitely good enough, but I have a better plan." To emphasize his point he pushes a third finger into Bucky on his next thrust and crooks all three of them at exactly at the right place, making Bucky give a strangled noise that's probably completely involuntary and fills Steve with intense satisfaction.
Still, Bucky manages to speak a couple of heaving breaths later, head turning towards Steve a little. "B-better plan?"
Because it's right there, Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's cheek before nodding past him, at the doorway to his living room. Above it he installed a bar for pull-ups. That bar may or may not have played a part in his fantasies for some time and he can't wait to make them come to life with Bucky.
Following his gaze, it takes Bucky a moment to figure out what Steve is suggesting; when he does he hums, intrigued.
"Think you can manage?" Steve asks, honestly not condescendingly at all because it won't be easy and if Bucky can't they're going to go with the wall plan.
"Fuck yeah," Bucky replies lowly, turning back to look at Steve. His eyes are dark and a little clouded and his mouth never quite closes as he pants for breath, and with his red, wet lips he looks positively sinful. The angle might be a little awkward but Steve can't resist, has to lean in and steal a kiss, thrust his tongue into Bucky's mouth like he's thrusting his fingers into his body.
With an encouraging noise Bucky returns the kiss, nipping on Steve's lips. His whole body twists towards Steve eagerly, one of his hands moving off the wall to grab hold of Steve's tie and pull him in. He's so sweet in his eagerness that Steve allows it, even if it changes the angle of his fingers to the point where he can't easily reach Bucky's prostate anymore. Not that Bucky seems to mind, he's too busy thrusting his tongue into Steve's mouth and sucking on his. It's absolutely filthy what he's doing with his mouth and fuck, Steve might not be done with him until he's had that mouth on his cock. Probably not even then.
Somehow Bucky manages to distract him enough that Steve doesn't notice that he ends up being the one with his back pressed to the wall, Bucky the one to cage him in, hands on both sides of Steve's head. Steve's fingers are still in Bucky's hole and his other hand is cupping his face and he's enjoying himself but still, when he finally realizes he thinks he should protest. He doesn't. Bucky is too delicious pressed up to him, compellingly naked against Steve's clothed form and with one arm wrapped around Steve's shoulder.
His other hand... is on Steve's belt, opening it one-handed. Steve allows it because he can't not, the thought of Bucky's hand on him too irresistible, and he can't hold back a groan when Bucky's strong fingers finally wrap around his cock. "Fuck, sir," Bucky whispers against his lips. "Can't wait to have that in me."
"Steve," he corrects, looking Bucky straight in the eyes. They can play that game another time.
One corner of his mouth quirking up, Bucky dutifully repeats, "Steve."
Steve rewards him with a smile, then pulls his fingers out. Bucky only has the fracture of a second to look disappointed, though, because next thing Steve flips them around, shoves him into the wall and kisses him, hard. Thrusts his tongue into that irresistible mouth and pushes his body against Bucky's, Bucky against the wall, trapping him between. Somebody groans, Bucky, Steve, both of them, and then Bucky's hands are on Steve's pants, fumbling into his pocket for the condom. He's almost clumsy as he rips it open, tongue slow against Steve's with the distraction, and then Steve is the one distracted as Bucky rolls the condom down his cock. Then Bucky wraps both arms around Steve's shoulders.
The secure grip is all the warning Steve gets; the next moment Bucky's muscles tense and he jumps up, wraps his legs around Steve's hips. And Steve, who spent his childhood skinny and small, can hold him up easily, hands fitting under his thighs to lift him up further. For a second it amazes him, then the full potential of what it means unfolds in his mind and he grins into Bucky's mouth. They're really going to do this; he's going to use his pull-up bar for sex.
Bucky's grip tightens on his shoulders when Steve steps away from the wall. He groans when he realizes that Steve can hold him up easily and shivers as Steve carries him over to his living room door. "Fuck, that's hot," he breathes.
Steve smirks and jerks his chin up towards the bar, and Bucky reaches up and gets a tight grip on it. The change in angle tilts his hips a little, the perfect position to fuck him, and Steve shifts his hold to Bucky's ass in preparation as he positions himself. Before he slides in he looks up at Bucky. "Tell me if you can't hold on anymore."
"Oh, I can hold on," Bucky promises, low and breathy. "You focus on following through on that promise to make me scream."
Steve narrows his eyes. "What have I told you about giving me orders, soldier?" He waits until Bucky opens his mouth to reply, then pushes in with one sharp, hard thrust. The half-formed words on Bucky's lips turn into a loud "Ah!" that almost, almost counts as a scream, and Steve manages a grin. He wants nothing more than to start fucking, but propriety and good manners dictate that he give Bucky a moment to get used to the sensation and so he holds still.
But shit, it's difficult. Bucky is tight and hot around him, muscles rippling as he adapts to the stretch, and his legs are a vise around Steve's waist, heels digging into his back as he clings to him. His head is tilted back, eyes wide as they stare unseeing at the ceiling, lips red and parted slightly, and his collarbone is glistening with sweat.
Steve can't resist, wouldn't even if there were a reason to, and leans in to lick it off, tastes salt on his tongue and Bucky's tiny shiver. A whimper escapes Bucky's throat, and then Bucky whines, "Please."
Who would have thought that all it took was a cock up his ass to get Bucky to beg? Steve grins, his teeth against Bucky's neck, pulls out and thrusts back in, just as hard and fast as the first one, maybe even more so. Bucky makes a sound like it was punched out of him, half-surprised, half-strangled, and as Steve slowly sets up a rhythm he doesn't stop making noise, moans and groans and gasps that are nowhere near quiet.
Steve relishes it. He never would have said that being loud in bed – for some definition of "bed" – was something that would specifically turn him on, but there is something like surrender in Bucky's tone of voice, the way he tilts his head back and bares his neck to Steve. The way he hangs, suspended, for Steve to take, utterly dependent on Steve to give him pleasure because he's unable to do more than tighten his legs on Steve. With this position Steve can't just direct his thrusts, the power behind them, but can also shift Bucky's hips as he pleases, and as he pulls out he pushes them back a little, then pulls them close as he shoves back in. Not enough to unbalance Bucky's grip on the pull-up bar, but something about being able to direct Bucky like that has his blood thrumming in his veins.
And Bucky... "You like it, don't you?" Steve growls between clenched teeth. "There's nothing you can do except hold on and let me fuck you."
"Fuck," Bucky whines, gaze blurry as he focuses on Steve. "Yes."
"What?" Steve leans in closer, holds Bucky's eyes. "I can't hear you." He emphasizes it with a sharp snap of his hips.
"Yes!" Bucky yells, head thrown back. "Steve!"
"Oh yeah, you do," Steve murmurs, licks a long stripe up Bucky's offered throat. "Knew it the moment I saw you. Knew you'd take it so well, so prettily."
Bucky is whining, and then it's like he can't hold back a moment longer; his mouth drops open and he starts really being loud, moans and groans interspersed with regular "Steve!"'s and a few "please"'s here and there.
"Best fuck I had in years," Steve gasps. It's completely true, and somehow that's when Bucky comes with a scream, whole body clenching up to the point where he's shaking as he erupts, hot and wet between them. Steve curses as Bucky's body goes tight around him and gets in just a few more thrusts before he comes as well, emptying himself into the condom with a shiver, Bucky's name on his lips.
"Fuck," Steve curses as the waves ebb, and then it registers that Bucky is trembling, and it might not just be because he just came. Shit. "You can let go, I got you, come on, let go."
With a tiny sound Bucky manages to unclench his hands around the pull-up bar, then he just sags into Steve's arms, shaking. Knees weak from orgasm Steve almost wobbles a little but his hold on Bucky is sure, and while he's tempted to sink to the floor right then and there, Bucky deserves a little more comfort than the floor after this. So he carries him over to the sofa and sinks down in the middle, ready for Bucky to slide off him and get comfortable.
Only Bucky doesn't; he stays right where he is, in Steve's lap, nuzzling into his neck. "Hmm," he hums after a moment. "I can see how you made it to your rank so young. You follow orders really well."
"I'm mystified how you made it to yours, with a mouth like that," Steve returns dryly.
At that, Bucky actually leans back to look him into the eyes, unfolding the full power of his insolent smirk on Steve. Despite just having come it still sends a pulse of arousal through Steve, one that deepens when Bucky drawls, "You don't know the full extent of what my mouth can do, yet. Sir."
Steve hitches up one eyebrow and slides one hand down to Bucky's ass, squeezes a little before he slides one finger between his cheeks, rubbing across Bucky's sensitive, swollen hole just to watch him shiver. "Yet."
Bucky licks his lips and leans down to draw Steve into a dirty, wet kiss.