It happens right as Steve is about to come.
(Sam is really glad that that sentence doesn’t happen more often, in their crazy, fucked up life of saving people and fighting supervillains. Really, really glad.)
But it does, it does happen. Sam is balls-deep in Steve, who is jerking himself off with one hand and clinging to the back of Sam’s neck with the other. Steve seems a little frenzied tonight, a little more on edge than usual. Sam notices, but he also notices the little pleas that Steve is mumbling, so he keeps on because a desperate Steve, to be entirely, shallowly honest, is a beautiful Steve.
“Fuck,” Steve chokes out. “Fuck, gonna–”
His hand stills on his cock, then grabs the base tightly and squeezes hard. His hips twitch up weakly, but he doesn’t come.
Sam blinks and pauses for a moment, almost completely drawn out. “Steve, what are you–”
“Don’t stop,” Steve says breathlessly.
“Fuck, keep going! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”
So Sam fucks him, as hard as he can. Steve looks like he’s about to tear his dick off, he’s holding onto it so tight, but he’s making all these noises, loud moans and shaky breaths and whimpers when Sam thrusts in at a particularly good angle.
“Steve,” Sam grunts. “I don’t know what you’re - God - what you’re doing, but I gotta, fuck…”
“Yeah, do it, c’mon,” Steve nods frantically. “Do it, I’m good.”
Sam groans, long and low as he comes, and he’s vaguely aware of Steve’s high keen as something warm splatters against their stomachs. He closes his eyes for a moment to regain control of his body, and when he opens them again, Steve is watching him, eyes dark and expression blissfully relaxed.
Sam’s brain takes longer to come back online and, by the time he thinks to ask what Steve was doing, it’s too late for it to not be awkward. Steve goes to the bathroom and comes back with a washcloth and cleans himself and Sam off, and then they curl up together on the dry half of the bed and Sam loses his question to the pull of sleep.
In the morning, he doesn’t remember to ask.
Steve sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, a couple slices of toast, and a mug of coffee. Sam glances up from the paper, smiles at him, and then goes back to reading. Steve smiles back and sets about inhaling his breakfast. For a while, the only sound in the kitchen is the sound of cereal crunching and papers sliding against each other. Then Steve pushes his bowl away and says, “Hey, Sam.”
“I wanna talk to you about something.”
“Are you okay?”
“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve says. “I just want to tell you something.”
“Oh. Okay, go for it.” Sam folds up the newspaper and sets it on the table, then leans forward, resting his chin on his hands.
“You know the last time we had sex?”
“I do know that, yes.”
“You remember how I was kinda… holding myself, toward the end?”
“Yeah, I remember. It was a little odd, but whatever, you know?”
Steve shrugs. “I guess.”
“So what about it?”
“I just wanted to kind of explain it. Since you seemed confused.”
Sam makes a sweeping go ahead gesture with one hand.
“Okay, so you know when you, like… You know how when you kind of hold the base of your dick and you squeeze real tight, and if you’re right about to finish, you can kind of hold it off?”
Sam, who has had to do exactly that on more than one occasion in the army, nods.
“I like that bit a lot,” Steve says. “It feels really good to kinda force yourself to be on the edge like that.”
“Okay,” Sam says slowly.
“It also makes it really intense when you– you know.”
“C’mon, Steve, you were doing so good.”
Steve blushes a little.”Okay, fine, when you come, it feels way more intense if you kinda… Wait a little.”
“Okay. That’s cool,” Sam says.
Sam waits for a moment, and then when Steve doesn’t say anything else, he asks, “Was that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Well, no. I wanted to, um. I wanted to ask if you would kind of hold me down and do it.”
“It doesn’t really work as well when you’re doing it yourself, you know? I mean, physically it still works the same, obviously, but you’ve still got all the control when you…” Steve trails off.
“So you want me to, what, fuck you until you’re about to get off and then stop?”
“For a while, yes,” Steve says. “And to hold me down while you do it.”
“I don’t think I can hold you, big guy.”
“I have a lot of self restraint.”
Sam snorts. “That’s sure as hell not true.”
“It is so,” Steve says indignantly.
“No way. Just get a mouth on your dick and you–”
Steve reaches across the table and covers Sam’s mouth with one hand. Sam’s eyes sparkle.
“Just think about it, okay? I don’t need it or anything, it’s just something that’s pretty nice, and you looked confused last time, so I wanted to explain it.”
Sam pulls Steve’s hand away from his mouth and twists their fingers together. “Look at you, all asking for things you want. There’s hope for you yet, Steve Rogers.”
Steve throws a balled up napkin at him.
It’s not until several weeks later, when Sam is naked in bed, pressing feverish kisses to Steve’s throat while Steve strokes them off together, one hand wrapped loosely around both of their cocks, that he actually takes action. He curls his hand around Steve’s and murmurs, “Hey babe, how close’re you?”
“Mm, getting there.” Steve tilts his head up to kiss Sam. “You feel good.”
“You always feel good.”
Steve grins into the kiss and nips at Sam’s lower lip. Sam jerks his hips a little.
“I always wanna make you feel good,” Sam says.
“Yeah. Put your hands over your head.”
Sam sits up and grabs Steve by the wrists and pins them above his head. Steve’s eyes grow very wide. He struggles a little, but not very hard; it’s more a formality, like Steve can’t let himself go down without at least the appearance of a fight.
“Don’t move them, okay?” Sam says. “If you move them, I’m gonna stop. Got it?”
Steve nods fervently. “Yes, Sam.”
Sam twists so that he can push on both of Steve’s wrists with one hand, then settles on his elbow and kisses Steve again. Steve is a lot more frantic than he was a moment ago. When Sam pulls back a few inches, Steve’s head follows him with a quiet whine before falling back against the pillow with a quiet thump.
“What do you want, Steve?”
“Fuck, fuck me, Sam, please…”
“You want me to fuck you?”
“God, yes, pin me and fuck me. Sam. Sam.”
“Easy there. I got you.” Sam shifts his weight to his knees and pushes a couple of sweat-dampened strands of hair off of Steve’s forehead. “I’ll fuck you real good, as long as you keep your hands above your head. Deal?”
Steve nods immediately.
“Good.” Then, on a whim, “Good boy.”
Steve’s eyes fall closed and his entire body shudders at the praise. Sam files that information away for later.
He squeezes Steve’s wrists once, then climbs off of Steve entirely to dig a half-full bottle of lube and a couple of condoms out of the dresser. He moves deliberately slowly, waiting to see if Steve will react, and is rewarded with a quiet, frustrated whimper for his troubles.
He puts the condoms on the pillow next to Steve’s head when he gets back to the bed and kneels in between Steve’s legs. Steve automatically bends his knees to the sides, giving Sam more room to sit.
Prepping Steve is an experience, to be sure. Steve is hard to break, knows he’s hard to break, and tries to get Sam to go as fast as he can. Sam, on the other hand, knows that having anything in, around, or near your ass tear is bad, so he beats Steve down into accepting three fingers over the course of just a few minutes. It’s faster than Sam, who can spend ages fingering someone open, would like, but tonight, Steve is impatient, all but vibrating with excitement as Sam rolls a condom onto his cock and slicks himself up.
Sam pushes in slowly, in one long, fluid motion, until he’s buried in Steve to the hilt. His nails dig hard into Steve’s wrists. He can feel Steve’s pulse in his fingertips. Steve arches up a little, but his hands never move from their spot. Sam shuffles forward, wiggling his knees under Steve’s thighs so he can get better leverage. Steve seems content to let Sam move him to where he needs to go.
“Remember, you’re not allowed to come yet,” Sam warns. “Tell me when you’re getting close.”
“What if I don’t?” Steve says with a hint of his usual defiance.
“Then we’ll have good sex and you won’t get what you want,” Sam replies bluntly. “So don’t come unless I tell you to.”
Steve gives him a little blissed out smile.
Sam grabs Steve’s wrists with both hands and separates them by a few inches, then bears all his weight down on them. Steve pulls half-heartedly, then goes limp when he’s satisfied that Sam’s reminder will keep him down. Sam rocks his hips back, then drives forward again, slamming into Steve hard. Steve groans loudly.
“You good?” Sam asks.
“Fuck, yeah, ‘m good.”
“Good,” Sam says, and then he bucks his hips forward, hard and fast.
It feels almost selfish, fucking Steve hard and fast like this. Sam usually tries to take his time, tries to find the best angle for both of them, maybe traces over every line on Steve’s chest with his fingers and his tongue if they have some free time. Now, he feels like he’s using Steve’s body. He supposes he is, even though it’s for what Steve asked for, but Steve seems to certainly be enjoying it.
It might not be the best fuck he’s ever had, the way he’s pushing himself to get off as fast as possible, but it’ll be worth it later. It’s almost worth it now, the way Steve’s legs curl around his waist and rag him forward. Sam knows he doesn’t have the strongest grip on Steve’s wrists, but Steve is doing his part in not moving them, even as he arches up to meet each thrust.
Sam finishes almost embarrassingly quickly. He groans and lets his head fall forward, chin bumping against his chest as he rides out the aftershocks. Steve looks confused as Sam slows down and finally stops, then drapes himself over Steve, still pressing Steve’s wrists into the pillows, and pulls out carefully.
“Hmm?” Sam asks.
There’s a pause, then Steve says, “Really?”
Sam stifles a laugh and squeezes Steve’s wrists gently.
“Are we, uh. Are we done, then?” Steve asks hesitantly.
“But you finished?”
“Have a little faith in me, Rogers.”
“I do,” Steve says immediately.
“Then shut up and let me get you off.”
He transfers his grip on Steve’s wrists to one hand and reaches down to pull the condom off and tosses it in the direction of the trash bin. He hopes it won’t leak, but isn’t really that concerned if it does. He finds the lube again and pops the top with his thumb and spills more of it than he needs over his hand and then bed, and then waits until Steve’s not paying attention to press two fingers into him, hard and fast. Steve chokes and thrashes his head to the side. Sam presses his fingers up, wiggling them just slightly, looking for Steve’s prostate. He knows he has a while until his body’s ready to go again. May as well make the most of it.
Steve curses under his breath when Sam finally finds his prostate. Sam presses up and rubs in tiny circles, slowly increasing his intensity as Steve tries not to writhe beneath him and fails. “How’s that feel?”
“Good?” Steve offers shakily. “Weird?”
“You never had a prostate massage before, huh?”
“N-no? I mean, for doctors and stuff, I have, but not like…” He nods down at Sam. “Like this–”
Sam flutters the tips of his two fingers a little and Steve loses the plot of his sentence.
“How you doing?”
“Glad to hear it,” Sam says warmly. He curls his body down, almost uncomfortably, so that his chest is pinning Steve’s cock down against his stomach. Steve automatically ruts up against him, leaving a little wet smear over Sam’s skin. Sam loses track of Steve’s prostate as Steve moves, so he lays all his weight on Steve to hold him down. They both know that Steve could move Sam off with almost no effort, but Steve takes it for the symbolic motion that it is and stills as much as he can.
Sam fingers him lazily for a long while. It’s hell on his wrist, when he shifts up so that he can kiss Steve again, but Steve seems even hungrier than usual, all teeth and desperate moans and whimpers every time Sam pulls back with a teasing smile. Sam loses the rhythm of his fingers more than once, but he always knows when he hits his target by the way Steve’s body arches and twists below him, desperate to move but bound by his own self control.
Steve whines when Sam pulls his fingers free and wipes them on the bedspread. Sam leans over and kisses his forehead. “You good?”
“How’s your dick doin’?”
“It’s, uh.” Steve swallows. “Hard.”
“I can imagine,” Sam says easily. “You wanna come?”
Steve bites his lip and nods.
Sam grabs one of Steve’s hands and drags it down. Steve hisses in pain from the change of position and rolls his shoulder until it pops, then looks up, confused.
“You wanna come? You’re gonna get fucked,” Sam says. “Get me ready. Get me hard.”
“Oh,” Steve says softly. He curls his fingers around Sam’s half-hard cock and gives it a couple of dry strokes. “Okay?”
“Yeah, ‘s fine,” Sam says. “Give me your hand.” He retrieves the lube again and drips a little into Steve’s waiting palm. Steve covers Sam’s cock best he can, then takes Sam in hand again. The jerk is much smoother, and Sam sighs in satisfaction. He rests his own hand on Steve’s knee and squeezes gently. Steve gets a little smile on his face as he works Sam over, slowly coaxing him back to full hardness.
Sam can feel the ache low in his stomach before he finally says, “Stop.”
“You don’t come ‘til I do, so I’m gonna fuck you now, before I come all over you by accident.”
Steve’s mouth opens a little, like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. His cock twitches weakly against his stomach as Sam presses his wrist down again, then pulls away to roll a new condom onto himself. Without Sam asking, Steve moves his other hand back above his head, resting one wrist in the other palm. Sam grins when he sees the motion, but doesn’t say anything about it.
Steve is nearly as tight as before when he pushes in again. It’s not entirely pleasant - Sam feels overstimulated, even with the break he gave himself. Steve is just tight and hot and a bundle of nerves to press at this point, if his high keen is anything to go by. He wraps his fingers around the edge of the headboard and Sam has to bat his hands away before he splinters the wood.
“I’m gonna go hard,” Sam says, hoisting one of Steve’s legs up to drape over his shoulder. “If you’re gonna come, you tell me and I’ll stop you, okay?”
Steve nods wordlessly. His eyes are closed now, and his chest is flushed dark pink. Sam can see each indent of his ribs every time he breathes in. Droplets of sweat catch in them. Sam wants to lick them off.
He braces his arms back against Steve’s wrists, flexing experimentally, and gives a cursory thrust. Steve sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out with a whine. His cock is flushed dark and leaking against his stomach. Every roll of Sam’s hip makes the head bump against Steve’s abs, leaving a thin trail of wetness on his skin. Sam thinks about wiping it off with one finger and licking it in front of Steve, or maybe making Steve clean his fingers for him…
That thought draws a surge of heat through Sam and he groans as Steve’s muscles contract around him. Steve whines again - a desperate, needy sort of thing that he’ll be embarrassed to admit to later, probably, but fuck if it isn’t hot now, having Steve this desperate under him.
They’re both lucky that Steve is flexible, because Sam fucks him down into the mattress. Steve’s leg is folded almost to his chest because Sam wants to kiss him but he doesn’t want to stop the hard, sharp rhythm he coaxed his body into, and Steve is going to feel this tomorrow, probably, but they don’t care. They’re sloppy and uncoordinated and messy and it’s not good kissing. Sam knows they both have more finesse. It’s desperate, broken, hanging-onto-control-by-the-skin-of-your-teeth brutal kissing that says plain and clear that Steve is about to snap any second.
“If you move, I’ll swear to God I’ll get up and walk out of the room,” Sam grunts as he reaches down to grip the base of Steve’s cock as tight as he can.
Steve’s eyes fly open and his entire body seems to be trapped for a moment between coming and shoving Sam’s hand away and not sabotaging the thing that he asked for. Sam can see the gears turning in his head with the modicum of sense that hasn’t been fucked out of him already. But it’s not Steve’s job to think right now.
So Sam makes the decision for him and kisses him again. His thighs are burning with the effort of keeping up such a brutal rhythm, but his whole body is hypersensitive and his balls are tight and Steve is whimpering desperately into his mouth, so now seems as good a time as any to give it up.
He slams into Steve and comes so hard that he sees white spots behind closed lids. He lets out a long string of curses, ‘fuck’s and ‘oh God’s and ‘shit, Steve’s as pleasure wracks through his body. It almost hurts, especially with Steve clenching down around him, and Sam feels lightheaded when his orgasm finally leaves him in the dust, gasping against Steve’s shoulder.
Steve, for his part, is shaking all over, panting shallowly and rocking his hips like he’s trying to fuck himself out of Sam’s tight grip. Sam doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve this far gone. He lets go of Steve’s hands and wipes a couple of sweat trails from Steve’s temple. “I’m gonna let go now, okay?”
Steve just nods.
“You did really good, and now you get to come. I’m gonna get you off and you can go ahead, whenever you feel like it.”
“Alright, good.” Sam eases his grip and almost instantaneously, Steve’s hands are on his shoulders, digging in painfully tight. Sam only manages a dozen short strokes before Steve is coming with an absolute howl. His entire body arches up, head thrown back and face twisted in something that looks like pain. He’s shaking so hard that Sam has to grab Steve’s shoulder to keep from getting pushed over as Steve spills onto his own stomach. The moment goes on and on and on, for a startlingly long time, until Steve lets out an exhausted groan and slumps back onto the bed, gasping for breath. Sam loses his grip and slips on top of him, bumping his head against Steve’s shoulder again.
“Fuck,” Steve breathes. “Holy shit.”
“The mouth on you,” Sam murmurs.
“Yeah, but… fuck,” Steve repeats.
“God.” Steve just lies there, blinking up at the ceiling like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it. “I think I’m dead.”
“Yeah. Like, actually dead. I think I came my soul.”
“Sucks, man.” Sam carefully pulls out again, wincing at the drag, and actually ties the condom off before throwing it away this time. He collapses back onto the bed, at Steve’s side instead of on top of him. “I’m fuckin’ done.”
“Yeah. Yeah, same.”
“You should probably clean yourself up.”
Steve stares ruefully at the ceiling for a moment, then grabs the corner of the sheet and tries to wipe his stomach off.
“Should we just move to the guest room?”
“Speak for yourself. I just came twice, I ain’t getting up.”
“Yeah, I s’pose.” Steve scrubs at the come on his stomach, then gives up and rolls to the side to steal a towel from Sam’s laundry hamper.
“Man, that’s gross.”
“I had worse in my old apartment.”
“Whatever. Your funeral.” Sam watches idly as Steve dries the sweat off of himself, then pulls on a loose pair of sweatpants and crawls under the covers.
“Get under. Less sweaty.”
“I’ll live,” Sam says.
“Suit yourself.” Steve shuffles over to Sam and wraps one arm around his chest. Sam brings one hand up to trace his fingertips over the veins in Steve’s arm.
“So… Thanks,” Steve says awkwardly after a minute. “That was really good.”
“Mhm. Any time,” Sam replies sleepily.
He thinks he hears Steve laugh and say, “I’ll take you up on that,” right before he passes the hell out.