Bucky remembers taking Soulmate Studies as an elective in sophomore year of high school. His teacher had been a blonde woman in her forties who talked about existentialism and how soulmates were an integral part of philosophy, and how experts aren't really sure how soulmates came to be a thing in the first place. Was it something that started when people first learned how to speak, or write? If a person from thousands of years ago had a soulmate mark, would they understand what it said or just believe it to be a strange birthmark?
Hundreds of years of studying and hypothesising and experimenting and people still knew next to nothing about soulmates.
Here's what they did know - or, more accurately, here's what Bucky knows from his semester of Soulmate Studies and the facts that are spread on the internet and through word of mouth:
1: Everyone has a soulmate.
2: Your soulmate's first words to you are emblazoned on your wrist.
3: If you're homosexual, your soulmate is definitely the same gender as you, and if you're heterosexual, your soulmate is the opposite gender. If you're bisexual, pansexual or any other sexuality that makes a person attracted to more than one gender, your soulmate could be any gender.
4: Soulmates can be platonic. This is the case especially when one or both people in the soulmate bond are aromantic.
5: It is rare, but it is possible that a soulmate bond contains three people. These are called triads.
Things that Bucky knows from personal experience include:
1: People find it odd that he covers his wrist with a bandage at all times.
2: When people see his soulmark, they either collapse into giggles or give him a scandalised look, as if it's his fault that his soulmate has such a filthy mouth
3: Bucky Barnes's soulmate is a dirty motherfucker.
Because right there, written in chicken scratch circling Bucky's right wrist, are the words 'Oh god, please sit on my face'.
Bucky can still remember the day he learned what his soulmark meant - his mother refused to tell him, his father kept laughing every time he asked, and when he asked his teachers, they looked horrified. Bucky, at the ripe old age of nine, went to the library, typed in 'why would someone sit on someone else's face' and was promptly bombarded with porn. The stoned guy next to him, after he'd cleared Bucky's browser history and stopped laughing, had finally explained what it meant.
Throughout his college years, Bucky had experimented a bit - mainly because of his soulmark. He'd figured out he was gay during high school, and it turned out that he fucking loved getting his ass eaten. Or pounded. Or fingered. Bucky's just really into having things inside his ass.
Which is good, because according to his soulmark, Bucky's soulmate is really into putting things into other people's asses. Namely his tongue.
Steve Rogers has just about given up on meeting his soulmate. He's thirty-one going on a hundred, and he has a feeling that if he was going to meet his soulmate, it would have happened by now. Ever since he woke up in the 21st century Steve had mourned the soulmate he'd never met. He'd probably left them behind when he went into the ice, and that, paired with the culture shock of jumping seventy years in the future, did not make the first few years very enjoyable.
Natasha, never one to back down from a challenge, made it her personal mission to get Steve to find, if not his soulmate, a date. She'd taken one look at his soulmate, raised her eyebrow, and asked, "What the hell do you say to people you meet?"
"Something polite, apparently," Steve had responded dryly, and gone right back to the documentary he was watching on clownfish.
At least you asked politely has been written on Steve's wrist in looping cursive for as long as he could remember. His ma had always taught him to be polite to the people he meets, although he isn't sure if it was because it was common decency or she didn't want her only son to be rude to his soulmate the first time he met them. Although, from what Steve has seen of this century, not a lot of people care about being civil.
It's a Wednesday at about seven in the morning. Steve's been in Patagonia for the past three weeks dealing with a HYDRA infestation (which, honestly; you'd think they'd have given up by now) and had only just got back the night before. He's tired, he's sore, and a few of his ribs are still putting themselves back together. The only reason he's out at all is because Sam had been injured and put on bed rest, and had pleaded with Steve to get him some sugary nightmare of a coffee and a pastry from the Starbucks on the corner next to Stark Tower. And then when everyone had seen Steve leave, they'd put their orders in too. Even Thor, who'd asked for a stein of mulled honey mead. Steve didn't know how to tell him that they didn't sell that at Starbucks. Steve thanked God that Natasha had volunteered to help him carry the drinks back.
There are a man and a woman in front of them in line, murmuring something to each other and occasionally laughing. They're both incredibly attractive, with dark hair in matching braids and pale, smooth skin. Steve wonders if they were related, and amuses himself by staring at the man's ass in those dark skinny jeans. God bless 21st-century clothing. He's disappointed when the man and his companion walk off to the side to wait for their coffees, but it does mean he can watch the way the man's ass bounces with every step.
Natasha, who blessed Steve by not saying anything about his unabashed staring, lists off the order, completely charming the college-aged barista, who seems to have fallen in love with her during the one-minute interaction. Steve feels mildly sorry for him - they don't call Natasha the Black Widow for nothing. By the time they'd moved off to wait for the coffees, the man and woman are gone. Steve tries not to feel too disappointed about it.
"So..." Natasha starts, and Steve sighs.
"What?" she asks, her eyes wide and innocent. "You don't know what I was going to say."
"I have a pretty good idea," Steve replied dryly, and Natasha rolls her eyes.
"I'm just saying-"
"If you actually talked to that cute guy, you might be able to get his number."
"I don't want his number," Steve says petulantly.
"You want something from him, alright," Natasha mutters mutinously. Steve was saved from answering by the barista calling out their order.
He's still stuck in his head when they leave the cafe, which is probably why he walks straight into someone, loses his balance, and falls onto his ass, the drinks he was carrying going all over his shirt.
"Oh shit, are you okay?" a woman's voice asks, and Steve looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun. The woman from the coffee shop is leaning over him anxiously, peeking out from behind thick glasses, but Steve immediately zeroes in on the man he'd bumped into.
Mr Perfect Ass is even prettier from the front. His braid is loose enough that strands of hair have fallen to frame his face, and an oversized scarf is pulled up to just below his pouty, red mouth. He's big, with wide shoulders and thick arms and thighs that are straining at his jeans, and he's staring at Steve with a blush on his face and the prettiest eyes Steve has ever seen.
"Oh, god," Steve blurts out. "Please sit on my face."
There's a horrified silence for about a second, before Natasha starts cackling. The woman with the large glasses looks like she doesn't know whether to slap Steve across the face or join Natasha's hysterical giggling, and the man's face has turned an even darker shade of red.
"Oh jeez, oh, god, I am so sorry," Steve manages to stammer out, feeling his face heat up as he scrambles to his feet. "God, that was so inappropriate, but you have a really nice ass and a really pretty face, shit I shouldn't have said that either, I'm so sorry-"
"Steve, please stop talking," Natasha wheezes, clutching her stomach. "Oh god, I'm gonna die. I can't wait to tell Clint about this."
The man blinks a few times, his face still bright red, and breathes out, "At least you asked politely."
Natasha stops laughing very abruptly. The woman with the large glasses looks between them with wide eyes and a grin on her face. Steve cannot stop looking at the man in front of him. His soulmate.
"I'm Steve," he finally blurts out, sticking his hand out. "I promise I don't usually proposition strangers."
The man smiles shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and taking Steve's hand. "James. And it was pretty nice having a cute guy ask to stick his tongue up my ass."
Steve barks out a slightly hysterical laugh. "And I'm really sorry you've had to walk around with a blatant invitation for sex written on your wrist your whole life."
James grinned. "I'm pretty sure my ma already hates you for that."
"Ma definitely hates him," the woman pipes up. "She'll be horrified to know that Captain America asked you for a rimjob the first time you met him."
"Shut it, Becca," James says, not taking his eyes off Steve.
Natasha clears her throat loudly. "I'm going back to the Tower. Steve, you should change your clothes."
"Right." Steve realises he's still holding James' hand. He doesn't really want to let go. "I should... go with her."
"Right," James agrees. Neither of them move.
"Steve?" Natasha prompts, sounding a lot more amused than the situation calls for. Steve blinks, and lets go of James' hand.
"I'll, uh, see you around?" he asks. James ducks his head, a smile playing on his lips. Steve really wants to kiss him.
"I can give you my number?" James offers shyly, tucking his hair behind his ear again. Steve wonders if he does it often. "You can call me sometime. We can..."
"Yeah," Steve says, feeling a stupid grin on his face. He probably looks like a lovestruck idiot and, well, he is. James smiles and takes the phone that's already in Steve's outstretched hand, tapping on the screen for a few seconds before handing it back. Steve's heart melts when he notices that James has added a small heart next to his name. "I'll call you. Tonight."
James hesitates for a second, then goes on his toes and presses a soft kiss to Steve's cheek. He pulls away after half a second, gives Steve another shy smile, and turns back to the woman, who's watching with unrestrained glee. Steve can't help but watch him go, the sway of his hips and the small spring in his step making Steve feel fuzzy inside. God, Steve is already half in love.
"You ready to go, Romeo?" Natasha calls, making Steve jump about a foot in the air. She's got her arms crossed, grinning like a lunatic. Steve can only follow her dazedly, unable to rid himself of grey eyes and sweet smiles, wrapped up in an oversized scarf.
Bucky barely manages to get home before he's swooning against the door like a lovestruck fool. He silently thanks God that Becca had dropped him off and wasn't here to see his little meltdown, but he figures he deserves it.
God, he just met his soulmate. His soulmate, who's tall and blonde and beautiful and wants to shove his tongue in Bucky's ass, and can you really get any better than that?
Bucky sighs happily, unwinding the scarf from his neck and swaying into the apartment like he's floating on air, barely managing to grab hold of the back of the sofa to keep from falling over. He giggles and straightens up again; god, he's acting like he's drunk. He can't wait to see what it's like to kiss Steve, or feel his body above Bucky's and his tongue in Bucky's mouth, those huge hands grabbing and squeezing every bit of skin they can reach.
Bucky's pulled from his increasingly dirty thoughts by his phone buzzing and he scrambles for it, almost dropping it in the process. The second he sees the unknown caller, his heart rate picks up.
"Hello?" Bucky says, his voice far more breathy than it has any right to be.
"James?" the voice on the other end says, and god, Bucky can't stop himself from falling back onto the sofa at the sound of that deep, smooth timbre.
"Steve," Bucky sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. "Hi."
"Hi," Steve says back, sounding just as breathless as Bucky. "I, um. I said I'd call."
"You did," Bucky agrees dazedly. "I, uh, I wasn't expecting it to be so soon."
"Oh, shit, okay, I can hang up, call you some other time -"
"No!" Bucky interrupts, then feels his face heat up. In a slightly more composed tone, he says. "No, it's okay. It's… it's good."
"Good," Steve repeats, and god, Bucky can't deal with this anymore.
"Do you wanna meet up?" Bucky's blurting out before he can think about it. "Like, now?"
"God, yes," Steve breathes out. "Where?"
Biting his lip, Bucky shifts a bit in his spot. "Come over to my place?"
Steve's quiet on the other end, the only thing Bucky can hear being shallow breathing, like Steve's desperately trying to catch his breath. It's heady, and Bucky finds himself reaching down to cup himself through his jeans, eyes fluttering shut at the slight pressure on his cock.
"Yeah?" Steve asks. He sounds so eager, and before Bucky knows it he's letting out a soft whine, his hand tightening and sending sparks of pleasure up his spine.
"Yeah," Bucky says. "Maybe… maybe you can make good on what you said. What's written on my wrist."
"Oh," Steve breathes. "Yeah, yes, god yes. Text me your address, I'll be there."
Bucky pulls the phone away from his ear and brings up his messages, quickly typing out a new message to Steve before saving his number. "Just did. Don't take too long."
"Fuck, sweetheart, I wouldn't dream of it."
Then Steve is hanging up, and Bucky is tossing his phone to the side and hurrying off to the bathroom to wash the smell of the city off his skin.
Steve might break more than a few traffic laws on his way to James's place, and within fifteen minutes of receiving the text, Steve is hurrying up the stairs of a relatively nice building in Brooklyn, barely stopping until he's reached the third floor and is lingering outside the door labelled 34. As Steve reaches up to knock, he realises his hand is shaking with anticipation. Steeling himself, Steve takes a deep breath, then knocks three times.
The door is flung open after just a few seconds, and Steve's mouth goes dry. James is standing in the doorway, his hair fluffy and out of its braid, falling in soft waves to his shoulders. He's changed, and is now wearing a pair of compression leggings and a red sweater, and god, just the sight of his thighs barely contained by tight spandex is enough to have Steve drooling. Dragging his eyes up James's body, Steve meets his eyes, eyes that look more silvery than blue now.
"I was going to buy you flowers," Steve finds himself blurting out. "But I really just wanted to get here as fast as I could."
"Oh my god," James says, before Steve is getting yanked into the apartment by the front of his shirt, the door banging shut behind them. Steve has half a second to realise that he's got an armful of flushed, bright-eyed James before long fingers are burying themselves in his hair and he's getting pulled down, James's lips pressing to his.
Kissing his soulmate is… Fuck, it's everything Steve has ever dreamed of, and then some. James's mouth is warm and soft and so, so inviting, and Steve's got a hand on James's ass and his tongue in his mouth before he even knows what's happening. It feels like his whole body is electric, static flying through his fingers as he shamelessly gropes James's ass through his leggings. James is whimpering and writhing in his arms, rubbing up against Steve's thigh like he can't control himself, and fuck, Steve's not going to last.
"James, James," Steve whispers against James's lips, trying to pull away but ultimately getting dragged back in, the slide of James's tongue against his too sweet to give up. "Baby…"
James shudders in his arms, and then those lips are gone and James is yanking him towards the couch, shoving Steve down before sinking to his knees. Steve freezes at the sight; James, lips swollen and eyes bright, kneeling between his thighs with his hands resting against Steve's fly. As Steve watches, James bites his lip and leans forward, licking one, long stripe across the denim that's covering Steve's aching cock. He can barely feel it, but that doesn't stop Steve from letting out a long moan, reaching out with a shaking hand to tangle his fingers in James's hair.
"Call me Bucky," James whispers, before he's unzipping Steve's jeans and reaching in to wrap his hand around Steve's cock. Steve automatically jerks up into the touch, and from there it's frantic - James - no, Bucky - lets out a long whine and yanks Steve's pants and underwear down his thighs, his mouth dropping open when Steve's cock is properly exposed. Steve knows he's… bigger than normal, especially after the serum, and while he's usually been a bit self-conscious about it, the way that Bucky's staring at his cock, eyes full of hunger, is enough for that self-consciousness to fly out the window.
Steve shouts when Bucky suddenly lunges, wrapping his lips around Steve's cock and sliding down almost halfway in one smooth movement. It's a fucking sight - Bucky's mouth stretched wide around his cock, eyes fluttering closed, a muffled moan leaving his throat and sending vibrations all up Steve's cock. Almost as soon as Bucky's mouth is on his cock, it's gone, and Steve has to hold back a whine as he's left feeling cold and raw. But then Bucky's mouth is back, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the shaft, the head, licking up the precome that's beading in the slit before leaning down and sucking one of Steve's balls into his mouth. It's fucking filthy, all wet and sloppy and loud, the sound of Bucky slurping on his balls making Steve's head spin. Then Bucky fucking rubs his cheek against Steve's cock, and precome sticks to his skin, making his cheeks shine so gorgeously.
"Not gonna last," Steve manages to get out. Bucky whines again, rubbing his other cheek against Steve's cock, before he's locking eyes with Steve and swallowing him down again, one hand wrapping around the base of Steve's cock while the other one reaches down to roll his balls. Steve's hand tightens in Bucky's hair as he desperately tries to keep still, his chest heaving and breath coming in short pants like it hasn't done since he was ninety-five pounds and thinner than a rake. Then Bucky's opening his eyes to meet Steve's, thick eyelashes clumping together from tears, and Steve's gone, hurtling towards the edge as he starts desperately fucking Bucky's mouth, vision going white when Bucky moans around him. Steve's never made much noise when he comes, but he does now, shouting in ecstasy as Bucky pulls off until he's suckling on the head of Steve's cock, his hand frantically jerking Steve off until Steve is coming, his hips stuttering as Bucky swallows every damn drop.
When Bucky finally pulls off, Steve barely gives him time to breathe before he's yanking him up for a kiss, hands cradling Bucky's face like it's a precious gem - to Steve, it might just be. Bucky enthusiastically responds, climbing up and straddling Steve's lap and rubbing that peach of an ass against Steve's still oversensitive cock. When they finally part, Bucky's face is red and his lips swollen, his eyes wide and dark.
"Can I make good on that promise now?" Steve murmurs, and trails his fingers down to wrap around Bucky's wrist. Bucky's eyes widen and he nods frantically, grinding against Steve's abs almost like he's unaware he's doing it.
"Bedroom," Bucky replies, and fuck, his voice sounds wrecked.
Steve gives him another long kiss before gripping Bucky by the backs of his thighs, standing up with Bucky still in his arms. Bucky squeaks and wraps his legs tight around Steve's waist, but he's soon moaning and writhing around like a bitch in heat, making it more than a little difficult for Steve to navigate his way towards the bedroom. When they finally get there, Steve knee-walks onto the bed, setting Bucky down as gently as he can. His pants are still around his thighs so he kicks them off absently, then pulls his shirt off over his head.
"Holy shit," Bucky whispers almost reverently. He reaches out and places his hand in the middle of Steve's chest, one finger moving to the side to slide across Steve's nipple, and fuck, that feels good. Steve's hands are sliding up Bucky's sweater before he even registers what he's doing, and soon enough Bucky's wriggling out of his sweater too, throwing it to the side as soon as it's off. Fuck, he's gorgeous - a bit soft around the middle but strong, solid, his pecs round and full and almost looking like… like tits, his nipples hard and a dusky brown. There's a fine smattering of hair across his chest and stomach, getting thicker as it leads down and disappears into his legging.
"God, sweetheart," Steve breathes out, before he's following that trail of hair with his fingers, sliding Bucky's leggings down his hips, down the swell of his ass, and finally off his legs. Bucky's hard as a rock, thinner and smaller than Steve but still impressive, the dark hair at the base of his cock trimmed down. His legs seem to go on for miles, smooth, tanned skin rippling over corded muscles and fuck, Steve wants those thighs around his neck.
"You gonna spend the whole day looking?" Bucky asks. When Steve's eyes snap back up to him he's smirking, almost preening under the attention. Steve can't respond - he's almost shaking with arousal, his cock throbbing and hard as if he hadn't just come a few minutes before.
"That such a bad thing?" Steve croaks out. Bucky stretches, long and languid, raising his arms above his head and wrapping those thighs around Steve's hips. Steve's hands slide up Bucky's sides, up until they've reached his chest and he's got a handful of Bucky's pecs in each hand.
"You can stare at me a different time," Bucky replies, and rolls his body against Steve's in such a way that Steve goes cross-eyed. "You promised me something, and if you don't hurry up I'm gonna flip us over and do it myself."
"Fuck," Steve says emphatically, then leans down to slide his tongue back into Bucky's mouth. When he pulls away, Bucky's looking dazed. "You're hot when you're bossy."
Before Bucky can respond Steve is leaning down and burying his face between Bucky's pecs. Bucky gasps, a soft, fragile thing, and that's all the confirmation Steve needs before he's turning his head to the side and sucking one pretty brown nipple into his mouth. Bucky keens, arching his back and pushing his chest into Steve's face, hands scrabbling at Steve's back and shoulders so hard that Steve wonders if he'll break the skin. Steve takes his time, leaving bruises littering those gorgeous pecs and pinching and pulling and sucking on Bucky's nipples until he's sobbing, his fingers buried in Steve's hair and chest heaving with cries. When Steve finally leaves one nipple alone and moves to the other, he glances up to see Bucky's face streaked with tears, his bottom lip bright red and swollen like he's been gnawing on it, and god, Steve can't think, not when he's faced with an angel.
"Please, Buck," Steve gasps out when he finally manages to tear his lips away from Bucky's pecs. "Please, lemme inside you. Lemme open you up, lemme lick you open, lemme -"
"Yes, god yes," Bucky sobs out, those thick thighs tightening around Steve's waist before Steve is rolling them over, settling back into the pillows as Bucky straddles his lap, hair flying around his head and looking more like an avenging angel than a man. Bucky then reaches over to the bedside table and yanks out a tube of what must be lube, throwing it onto the pillow beside Steve's head. Then he knee-walks up Steve's body until his thighs are around Steve's head, and turns around.
Fuck, is all Steve can think. He hadn't had a chance to see Bucky's ass up close, not since he watched him walk away mere hours ago, and god, it's fucking gorgeous. Round as a peach and pretty as one, too, and Steve almost comes right there when he reaches up to spread Bucky's cheeks and the flesh bounces. Unable to stop himself, Steve kneads and pats Bucky's ass like his life depends on it, mesmerized by the way it jiggles and bounces. Steve suddenly has a vision of how that ass would look taking his cock, and it takes him some effort to keep from hyperventilating. Bucky's hole is gorgeous, too, a sweet little pucker nestled between those cheeks, pretty and pink and so, so tempting. Abandoning any sense of subtlety or foreplay, Steve leans in, closing his mouth over that sweet hole and sucking.
Bucky screams, his thighs tightening around Steve's head and nails gouging patterns into his abs, and god, Steve is a lucky son of a bitch to have this man as his soulmate. Steve doesn't bother with going slow, and instead eats Bucky out like a starved man - gripping onto Bucky's ass like it's the only thing keeping him from flying away and pressing desperate kisses and licks and sucks to Bucky's hole. It doesn't take him long to relax the muscles of Bucky's hole enough to slide his tongue in - not much, just the tip, but it's enough to make Bucky howl, grinding back frantically against Steve's face. Bucky's balls keep hitting Steve's chin, and his jaw is getting sore, and it's getting a bit hard to breathe, smothered between Bucky's cheeks, but god, Steve never wants to leave. Bucky tastes clean, fresh, a bit salty from sweat and with the slight tang of vanilla - probably his soap - and Steve hasn't tasted anything better. The throbbing in his cock slides out of his mind until it's just a small, niggling thought, his entire being dedicated to pulling more sweet, broken sounds from his soulmate's mouth with his tongue, his lips, his fingers.
Then Bucky's thighs are clenching around his head so tightly that Steve almost loses his breath, and his hole flutters against Steve's mouth as he cries out, his movements becoming more uncontrolled until Steve feels warm fluid hit his abs. He licks Bucky through his orgasm, bringing his hand around to wrap around Bucky's jerking cock, and he only stops when Bucky becomes boneless on top of him, shivering slightly.
Pressing one last kiss to Bucky's hole, Steve lifts Bucky off and manoeuvres them until Bucky's on his back, his legs spread to accommodate Steve's bulk. Steve buries his face in the crook of Bucky's neck and waits patiently for him to come down, gently sucking hickeys into the skin under his mouth and rubbing soothing circles into Bucky's hips with his thumbs. When Bucky finally comes back to himself, Steve's made a masterpiece of purple and blue against the soft, pink skin of Bucky's collar. Bucky hums happily and cradles Steve's head in his hands, and Steve looks up to accept the soft kiss that Bucky presses to his lips.
"Good?" Steve murmurs, and Bucky lets out a disbelieving laugh.
"Definitely worth having a proposition written on my wrist for the past twenty-eight years," Bucky replies. Steve can't stop a goofy smile from taking up residence on his face, but Bucky doesn't seem to mind from the way he leans in and kisses Steve again. The kisses, originally lazy, turn heated as soon as Steve accidentally rubs his hard cock between Bucky's thighs, and Bucky spreads his legs wider until the head of Steve's cock is catching on his hole. When Steve pulls away, Bucky's eyes are dark again and his cock is half-hard against his thigh.
"Can I fuck you?" Steve asks, and it's almost comical the way Bucky nods frantically.
Blindly reaching to the side, Steve's fingers wrap around the tube of lube, and he flicks the cap off and drizzles some onto his fingers. More comes out than what he was expecting, and he feels it slide off his fingers and onto the bed, and Bucky giggles softly and runs a hand through the mess on his duvet.
"Sorry," Steve says sheepishly, and Bucky just shakes his head, still grinning.
"You're something else, aren't you, Steve?"
"Is that a good thing?" Steve asks. He lifts one of Bucky's legs and hooks it over his shoulder to see what he's doing, before he presses two slick fingers against Bucky's already loosened hole.
"Definitely," Bucky gasps out, moaning quietly when Steve slides both fingers in. "Never met a guy like you, Stevie."
"Must be my Depression-era, Irish upbringing," Steve says dryly, and Bucky laughs, melodic and free, reaching up to run his fingers through Steve's hair.
"My gorgeous centenarian," Bucky croons, so softly and sweetly that it takes Steve a second to realise he's making fun of him. Steve is opening his mouth to retaliate when Bucky kisses him again, so gently and fondly that Steve forgets that they'd only met earlier that day. God, he wants to spend the rest of his life with this man, and he doesn't even know his last name.
Steve slides a third finger in, swallowing Bucky's whimper and running his free hand up Bucky's thigh. It's a bit of a stretch, the third finger, and Steve gets to work slowly scissoring his fingers, moulding Bucky's body until Bucky's grinding back, soft huffs and moans falling from his mouth only for Steve to capture them with his lips. By the time Steve adds a fourth finger, Bucky's hard and leaking between their bodies and shuddering with each movement of Steve's hand, and Steve is having a hard time stopping himself from rubbing off against Bucky's thigh. Slowly, Steve retracts his hand, swallowing Bucky's cry with a kiss as he's reaching for the lube again.
"You want a condom?" Steve whispers against Bucky's lips. "I can't exactly catch or transmit anything, but it's up to you."
"Definitely fucking not," Bucky pants out, kissing Steve hard on the mouth. "I'm clean, and even if you weren't immune to everything on the fucking planet, I'd want your come dripping out of me."
Steve groans and opens the lube again, drizzling some onto his cock and hissing at the chill. He wraps his hand around himself and slowly jacks himself off, his eyes fluttering shut at the friction to his previously neglected cock. When he opens his eyes again Bucky has risen onto his elbows, watching the movements of Steve's hand hungrily. Steve leans forward again, licking into Bucky's mouth and swallowing his moan when he rubs his cock against Bucky's slick hole.
"Ride me?" Steve whispers against Bucky's lips, and Bucky groans loudly, his cock twitching from its position between their bodies.
"God yes," Bucky gasps, and then there are legs around his waist and Steve is being flipped onto his back, the breath knocked out of his lungs as Bucky towers over him, body covered in hickeys and hair framing his face so beautifully. Then Bucky is turning around, showing off the thickness of his ass, the arch of his back, the muscles in his shoulders and raising himself onto his knees, gripping Steve's cock in one hand and positioning it against his hole. Bucky looks over his shoulder at Steve, a carefree grin on his face, before he sinks down on all nine inches of Steve's cock with a single, fluid grind.
Steve's pretty sure his heart stops for a few seconds. Bucky's so hot, so tight around him, that peach of an ass settled so prettily against his pelvis, the muscles inside flexing and almost milking Steve's cock. Bucky's got his hands on Steve's thighs, his nails digging into the skin, and Steve can hear the way he's panting and whimpering in pleasure, rocking back and forth and not letting an inch of Steve slip out of his hole. Then he starts moving.
"Oh my god," Steve says weakly. He can't take his eyes off Bucky's ass - the flesh jiggles with every movement, the gyration of Bucky's hips causing his back to arch, his ass to pop out even more than it usually does, and fuck, the sight is filthy. His walls are tight around Steve, clinging to him like they don't want him to go, and god, Steve wants to ruin this man. He can't stop from reaching out, from holding one of those glorious cheeks and feeling its movement in his hand, and soon enough he's got both hands shamelessly groping Bucky's ass, unable to look away as Bucky's movements quicken, until it's less grinding and more bouncing. Bucky's letting out the sweetest little sounds - sighs and moans and whimpers, and Steve is suddenly desperate to see his face. He sits up, yanking Bucky back against him and leaning against the headboard before he's grabbing Bucky by the thighs and turning him around while he's still speared on Steve's cock.
As soon as Bucky's facing him Steve is getting reeled in for a kiss, Bucky's arms wrapped tightly around his neck as Bucky's bounces gain in intensity. Steve clings back, one hand resting on the small of Bucky's back and the other just below his right pec, a finger sliding up to graze against one pert nipple. Bucky whines into the kiss, and Steve can't help himself - he rolls them over and pins Bucky to the mattress, throwing both of Bucky's legs over his shoulders before he's thrusting deep, deep enough that Bucky's stunned expression turns into one of pure pleasure, his eyes rolling back and mouth falling open with a cry. Steve buries his face in Bucky's neck, silently marvelling at Bucky's flexibility as he fucks as deep as he can, his thrusts pushing Bucky up the bed if not for the death grip that Steve has on his hips. It's good, too good, and Steve feels tears prick his eyes from the intensity, the heat and tightness around his cock, the sobs coming from Bucky's mouth.
"Not gonna last," Steve finally manages to gasp out, tightening his grip. "Fuck, Bucky, sweetheart, gonna come."
"Yes," Bucky chokes out, his arms tightening around Steve's shoulders. "Inside me, Stevie, please, come inside me."
That does it - Steve is biting down on the skin under his mouth to muffle his scream, the tears in his eyes spilling over as he thrusts once, twice, three times, his orgasm washing over him in a wave of ecstasy and emotion. Somewhere through the haze he feels Bucky come, too - warmth exploding between their bodies and Bucky's hole spasming around him, but Steve just squeezes his eyes shut and fucks deeper, his orgasm seemingly going on forever as he sobs through the mind-numbing pleasure-pain that just won't stop. When it finally subsides and the fog clears from his mind Steve almost sobs in relief, panting heavily against Bucky's neck as fingers cart gently through his hair. It feels good, so good that Steve nuzzles closer, almost purring at the feeling of nails against his scalp. He hears a soft chuckle from above him, and he manages to look up blearily to see Bucky's fond smile.
"There you are," Bucky murmurs, leaning in to press the gentlest of kisses to Steve's lips. "That was the longest damn orgasm I've ever seen."
"How long was it?" Steve asks sleepily. His cock slips out of Bucky's hole and they both wince, and when Steve looks down it looks like there's a river of come gushing out. "Damn."
"Yeah," Bucky chuckles. "You came for literally ten minutes, Steve, bless that damn serum of yours."
"Hmm," Steve replies, his brain still pretty much mush. "I should clean you up."
"You should," Bucky agrees, grinning amusedly.
Steve tries to get up to go to the bathroom, to get a wet cloth, but his legs don't seem to be working. With a shrug, Steve gives Bucky a peck on the mouth before sliding down his body, shouldering his way between Bucky's legs. From Bucky's surprised gasp, he wasn't expecting that.
"Steve, I meant a washcloth," Bucky says breathlessly, and Steve looks up at him innocently.
"My legs aren't working, Buck," he says, trying to look as innocent as he can. "I'm just using what resources I have."
With that, Steve leans forward and attaches his mouth to Bucky's hole, licking his own come out and swallowing every drop. It's fucking filthy, is what it is, the taste of his own come bitter and almost unpleasant, but Bucky's writhing and howling above him and there is no way in hell that Steve is going to stop unless Bucky tells him to. Once Steve can only taste Bucky's skin he pulls away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and feeling far too pleased with himself. Bucky's cock is still soft, and Steve has the urge to take it into his mouth, just to watch Bucky squirm.
"You are a fucking menace," Bucky gasps out, then Steve is being pressed into the mattress as Bucky kisses him with an intensity that makes him feel dizzy. When Bucky pulls away, he whispers, "I love the taste of your come," and Steve is pretty sure his soul leaves his body before Bucky's kissing him again.
Their kisses slowly lose intensity until they're curled up together, half-asleep and resting their foreheads together. Steve has his hand wrapped around Bucky's wrist, absently tracing his own handwriting on Bucky's skin. As he does, Bucky leans forward and kisses the looping handwriting on Steve's wrist, sending a flood of warmth through Steve's body.
"I haven't properly introduced myself yet," Steve whispers, and Bucky opens his eyes blearily. "My name's Steve Rogers, I was born on July 4th 1918, and I'm Captain America."
"Nice to meet you, Steve," Bucky replies, his mouth curling up into an amused smile. "I'm James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky. My birthday's March 10th, 1987, and I own a bookstore down on 3rd Avenue with my sister Becca."
Steve leans in to brush a chaste kiss across Bucky's lips. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. May I interest you in a date tomorrow? There's a swell little Italian joint near my place. I promise to buy you flowers this time."
Bucky hums, snuggling close and throwing a leg over Steve's. "I guess I can be persuaded. Maybe I need a bit of extra… stimulation."
"Yeah?" Steve murmurs, sliding his hand down Bucky's arm to wrap around his back. "I'd be happy to help in whatever way you need me to."
Bucky peeks out at Steve from beneath his eyelid, a cheeky smirk on his face. "Well, if you wake me up tomorrow morning with your tongue in my ass, it'll certainly help your case."
"And if I throw in breakfast in bed afterwards?" Steve questions playfully, his eyelids drooping from exhaustion. Bucky yawns and closes his eyes, rubbing his face against Steve's chest affectionately.
"Then I guess I could let you stay the night after our date, too."
Steve tightens his grip on the man in his arms, unable to stop the goofy smile from taking over his face. He wouldn't have it any other way.