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you're riding shotgun but I'm still driving

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It's only a couple hours later that Steve drifts into awareness. looks over at Bucky resting comfortably in his uncomfortably new shape, and slips out of bed. He pauses to discard the tangled and slightly gummy sweats as he passes the hamper, and starts his newly-settled morning routine.

They're both staying close to home until someone figures out how exactly this happened, so his usual run through the quietest and clearest Manhatten will ever be is a no-go. After brushing his teeth and a three-minute shower (where he might notice in shock that the bruise on his thigh outlined in teeth stayed, pressing on it briefly but not wasting any more water to thought) he dries the arm and then everything else, clumsily pulls back Bucky's hair into something resembling Natasha's laziest at-home days, then shaves. While he wouldn't dramatically alter someone else's appearance he does feel slightly more normal about the whole situation when he can still feel presentable, and the carefully-unkempt look that seems to be fashionable will take two or three days to get back, max. It doesn't have anything at all to do with Bucky letting dark-blond stubble grow past sloppy to itchy, though just yesterday Steve thought it reached something he could get used to, with a little time.

He hangs up the towel neatly on the way out of the bathroom, and steps over to the dresser unconcerned that he can hear Bucky beginning to wake up - he was never body-shy even when maybe he should've been, and if anything, well, it doesn't make sense to hide a body from its proper person anyway. Absent-mindedly sorting through t-shirts he hears Bucky turn over a few times, huffs into the pillow, and then - a small, tense "-ohh".

He half-turns around and Bucky is absolutely still, holding a full-body stretch in an arc from heels to knees to pulled-back shoulders with fists pushed into the bed next to his ears. Bucky's eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth just a little open, and his hard cock silhouetted pushing up against the tangled sheets that fall from his knees. He holds that tense tableau for another moment before relaxing into the mattress again, opening one eye and looking plaintively over at Steve. "How d'you get anything done?"

"You said about takin' care of it, but..." Bucky trails off, looks away, looks back. Steve ducks his head and grins, a little bashful a little turned on, tosses the cloth back towards the drawer before crossing his arms. "Don't let me stop you from going again, but- that's not, ah, exactly how... how I." And the words just sort of stop but he looks up through his lashes and Bucky is still looking right back at him, both eyes open now, more like he's considering. He tries to throw words right through it, "it's got to be... but last night was, and you, you liked it faster and that's not..." but Bucky is smoothing his hands down his thighs through the sheets, wraps one hand loosely around his cloth-covered cock and the other cupping his balls, and says quietly and smoothly, "why don't you come over here and tell me when I get it wrong then Captain", which is the closest he'll get to an easy out so Steve does.

Steve walks over and gets on the bed in a controlled collapse so he's sitting back on his heels between Bucky's legs, and there's a perspective on himself that he'd never got before. "It was like this for you all the time? How come you never let on?"

Steve makes a face. He hadn't seen the point of letting on because it didn't always matter what he wanted- his body had the final say. Either going soft in the middle (no, nonono, come on come back) or coming before it even really felt good, and he was one and done. Throwing on his clothes and stomping out the door angry, breath catching with that crawling energy, and if he just happened to run into a fight? Getting hit wasn't the healthiest way to burn off that release but it was something even he couldn't screw up, something he could always at least feel. If he eventually started getting hard again halfway through, well, can't blame a body for cross a couple wires, put two and two together, and start to like it just a little.

In the meantime during this little interlude, Bucky kicked the sheets further down, putting skin to uncut skin wet with precum, and is starting to squirm as he gets closer. He's looking at Steve when he manages to open his eyes halfway every few strokes, uncertain but not going to be the first one to stop the game. A harsh breath in his throat, his eyes fly wide open, and before he can get out "Steve I'm gonna --" and Steve's sliding the metal hand between Bucky's right hand and his cock, pinning that hand to the bed like he's being disarmed, holding his thighs down and apart with his knees, squeezing the base of his cock and telling him "hold it, right now, hold it back for me, you can".

Bucky would be able to come again in short order, but if they're doing this right then that's not the point, not if Bucky wants to see (feel) how he needs it if he wants the pleasure and relief to last. After all, Steve knows his own body even if he's not the one driving, and at this point he's almost feeling it all sympathetically. It's as if his brain saw his own image and mapped it onto whatever nerves it had at its command. Now that he's paying attention again he's got a crick in his back where it won't stretch and the shoulder hurts again but he can't bring himself to mind. He's glad that body can be a miracle for someone else for once too.

Bucky is tense and gasping, trying to push his hips up or flex his legs together but he's held firmly in place. "What the hell, I was almost-" "-yes, and that's the thing. you gotta take your time. Wait- okay." Bucky's left hand, his only free limb, is holding onto Steve's forearm when Steve begins to slowly stroke him again. "You're doing so good baby but you're gonna need to know how I like it," and Steve is almost more turned on that Bucky is already desperate after only that first time getting close. He's doing well despite his confusion, panting but not trying to get out from under Steve's knees or pulling away from the hand on his cock. "Fuck, please, just let me have one first," and Bucky closes his eyes, concentrating, and this time Steve lets him try. Bucky moves his hips, tries different angles and pushes into Steve's fist slower and faster and slower and fasterfaster but it's not enough. He's starting to whine like he's out of air, opens his eyes to look at Steve like he's hurting and says, "Please, let me, why can't I- please, just, please."

"Shh, slow down, yes I know but it's what you need." Steve gives Bucky's cock a tight squeeze and then shifts so that Bucky's legs are still pinned apart but Steve has both hands free, and smooths his hands down Bucky's thighs. "Breathe baby, there you go. Touch yourself," and Bucky is sweating, out of breath and trying to come but he can't quite make it there. He looks at Steve with eyes one part unsure and two parts desperately turned on, and Steve says, "Will you let me?"

"God please anything," and Steve shuffles down, replacing his knees with his hands, and slowly taking Bucky's -his own- cock in his mouth. 

Home field advantage - he knows what he likes, and Bucky isn't ready for it. Slow, slower, wet and hard tongue pressure, building up and backing off, sucking and rubbing it against all the textures inside his mouth. Bucky is almost hiccupping his breaths, legs immobilized, and begging when he can get the words together, and Steve keeps mouthing slow and steady. "You can't chase it, you have to let it come to you - no, don't cry baby, I know you can take it, you're doing so well, this is how it has to be." He's getting louder, and Steve is scandalized - is that what he always sounds like? Can... can people hear him through the walls, too?

Finally, finally, Steve sucks him deep one more time and moves up to kiss Bucky's mouth and cheeks and teary eyes. He whispers, "Now. You can come now babe, go for it, do it." Bucky still has tears leaking down the creases of his eyelids, it's like he's not breathing anymore, but when he tentatively puts his hand back on his cock Steve wraps his hand over it and squeezes and pulls faster. When he comes shaking it's like it's being wrung out of him, come spattering his collerbones and chest and belly. Steve moves his wet hand to Bucky's stomach palm-down, and pushes his dick into the warm wetness of it. Bucky's still shivering and moaning when Steve comes, but he's still and quiet by the time they're cleaned up.

"Is that- is that how you?" Steve smiles into Bucky's - his - Bucky's hair, such a different texture, and nods. "At least when there's not a week of tension behind it, yeah." Bucky groans and plants his forehead more solidly into Steve's - his own - Steve's chest, and they stay there in that space.