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Lucky Number Seven

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"No, stay," Sam says breathlessly, reaching back, scrambling for Bucky's hip when he makes to pull out. "One more. Please. Third time lucky."

Because Sam likes staying here, right on the edge, as Bucky tumbles over it time and time again until he’s utterly drained. And who is Bucky to deny him, when he loves nothing better than to come buried inside Sam, so deep that there’s no telling where he ends and Sam begins.

“We’re gonna be late,” Bucky murmurs, but he takes a deep breath and wills himself not to go soft, then tips forward, sinking back into Sam and pulling a low moan from him.

“That’s right, baby,” Sam says, bracing a hand against the headboard, thighs trembling as he pushes right back to meet Bucky’s thrusts. “No, we’ve got time. I know you can be fast.”

“Fuck,” Bucky groans, hips snapping forward of their own accord. 

He can be fast; can be slow too, can be anything Sam needs him to be. And knowing that Sam needs this, wants this, wants him – it’s almost too much with how sensitive he is after already coming twice. He grips Sam’s hips a little tighter, trying to get a hold of himself as he pulls his cock back an inch or two, then slams back in.

“Oh yeah,” Sam sighs, grinding back against Bucky, his head slumped against his arm. “Right there. Feels so good right there. Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

And Bucky would be lying if he said Sam's words weren't doing it for him, because they absolutely are.

“Sweetheart, you keep talking like that I’m gonna come so fast, you don’t even know,” he says.

“Do it,” Sam says. “I want it. Wanna feel you.”

And because Bucky is already close, he reaches around Sam to wrap his fingers around Sam’s cock. “I wanna feel you too,” he says, low in Sam’s ear.

“Not yet,” Sam gasps, pushing Bucky’s hand away.

So it’s gonna be like that. Bucky bites his lip in frustration, but he obliges, puts the heel of his hand on the small of Sam’s back instead and drives his cock in again, as deep as he can.

“Don’t you want to feel good?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. “I can make you feel so good.”

Sam gives a short laugh, knows what Bucky’s playing at. “I’ll feel even better tonight, after I spend all evening thinking about finishing what we started.”

“Fuck,” Bucky says again. He can feel his balls tightening, getting ready to empty another load into Sam. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, Sam.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, drawing a shuddering breath. “Come on, do it. Fuck, do it before you make me come.”

And that’s it, Bucky’s coming again, so hard that he almost topples over. At the last second, he grabs the wrist of the hand that Sam’s bracing against the wall, steadying himself as his cock twitches violently over and over. Underneath him, Sam is moaning in time with each pulse of cum, his ass clenching around Bucky’s cock so sweetly that Bucky thinks for a second he ruined it all.

But when they grow still, Sam is still trembling lightly, slowly breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, and Bucky knows he’s balancing right there on the edge, so close to falling but still hanging on.

“I need a drink,” Sam says, voice unsteady. “Glass of water.”

“‘Course, babe,” Bucky says. He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Sam’s shoulder, then pulls out as gently as he can, drawing another quiet gasp from Sam.

His legs are wobbly, almost coltish as he stumbles naked into the kitchen; it doesn’t matter how many times Bucky gets to fuck Sam – it always leaves him like this. Drunk on sex and stupid in love. He lets the tap run for a long time, drinks deep straight from the stream, then splashes water on his face and gives himself a quick wash as the water gets colder. When it’s finally icy and clear, he fills a large glass for Sam. As he walks back to the bedroom, he glances at the clock on the wall in the hallway; it’s already gone six o’clock.

“We’re gonna be late, Sammy,” he calls, but when he steps into the room, he finds the bed empty.

The faint sound of the shower running can be heard from the bathroom, and Bucky taps out a quick knock before entering.

“Sorry, the cold water took ages,” he says, walking over to the steamed-up cubicle.

The indistinct shape of Sam turns around, and then Sam’s face suddenly appears when he drags his hand through the condensation. “New York in the summer, huh,” he says. 

Bucky steps up to the glass, uses the hazy, makeshift window to glance down Sam’s body. Sam’s still hard, and Bucky sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Sam laughs. 

“What?” Bucky says innocently as he cracks the door to the cubicle open a couple of inches, letting out a rush of steam. “Can’t a guy help his fiancé get cleaned up after fucking him into the mattress for like an hour?”

“Nuh-uh,” Sam says. “I know that look on your face and we’re already late.”

“Do we have to go to this thing?” Bucky complains.

Sam leans forward, wraps his dripping hand around Bucky's neck and pulls him into a kiss that makes him weak all over again.

“Yeah, Buck," Sam says. We really do.”



This thing is a charity gala that neither of them would have dreamed of attending if it hadn’t been for the fact that a prime suspect in a hush-hush corruption scandal inside the GRC is going to be there. And it’s a simple, almost routine job, really. Sharon’s provided them with the miniature bug they’re to plant on the senator in question, and all Sam had to do to get an invite was to pick up the phone and make a call.

Bucky gets the bug onto the senator’s tie within minutes of arriving, and after that, it’s just a matter of sticking around for the dinner, drinks and speeches. They’re high profile guests, and slipping away too early isn’t an option. 

Naturally, Sam turns it into five hours of driving Bucky completely up the wall with want. 

It starts at dinner, when Sam slips his hand under the table and grabs Bucky’s thigh, runs his hand all the way up to brush over Bucky’s cock as he leans in and whispers:

“I want to try for a new record.”

And Bucky has to bite his tongue not to moan out loud, because he knows exactly what Sam means. They circle back to this every now and then, the way that Sam loves to be kept on the edge, and the way that Bucky can come more than once – a lot more than once if he puts his mind to it – and how it makes for a perfect storm of pleasure for both of them. 

The most Bucky has been able to come without either Sam coming, or Bucky pulling out in between, is six times. A good number, but Bucky’s more than willing to attempt to top it for a lucky number seven, and the thought of trying is already making him hot for it.

“You can’t just. Say stuff like that,” Bucky hisses, but when Sam runs his palm across Bucky’s crotch again, he arches suggestively into the touch, lets Sam feel how fast he’s firming up.

Sam keeps being a menace about the whole thing. When Bucky's leaning on the open bar to get the attention of the bartender, Sam comes up behind him, puts his hand on Bucky’s hip to squeeze in next to him. And for a short moment, Bucky can feel Sam’s cock, hard against his ass, before Sam’s elbow-to-elbow with Bucky at the bar.

“Non-alcoholic for me,” Sam says casually. “Have you seen the list of speakers? It’s gonna be a long night.”

The way Sam drags out the word long makes desire coil like snakes low in Bucky’s belly. "Oh, I'm counting on it," he says, half to himself.

"Yeah, I'll be counting too."

Bucky glances at Sam, and the heated look Sam gives him back is enough to make Bucky say under his breath:

"We should get some air. Right now."

The rooftop garden is almost empty - in this heatwave it's cooler indoors with multiple AC units on full blast - and Bucky pulls Sam into the shadows of a wisteria in full bloom. He crowds Sam up against the wall, pushing his knee in between Sam's legs and grinding their erections together.

"Why the fuck are you hard again, huh," Bucky growls.

"First of all you know why," Sam says, reaching around Bucky to grab at his ass and pull him even closer. "Secondly there's no again about this here situation, baby," he says, angling his hips up to make his point perfectly clear. 

"Sweet Jesus," Bucky pants. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

"Mm, la petite mort," Sam purrs, and then his lips are on Bucky's, kissing them apart.

They make out for a while, and Sam gets his hands on Bucky's dick, jerks him through the front of his pants until he almost ruins them. But Bucky pulls away and drops to his knees instead.

"How long's it been like this," Bucky asks as he pulls Sam's cock free. It's rock hard and leaking against Bucky's hand.

"Ever since you groped me while I was washing up after lunch," Sam says, breath hitching.

"God," Bucky says, and then he takes Sam's cock into his mouth, swallows him all the way down and holds still until Sam starts whimpering.

Then he pulls off; slowly, inch by inch, and when he reaches the swollen head, he runs his tongue across the slit, tasting the cum that's threatening to spill down Bucky's throat.

"Fuck, Bucky," Sam whispers. "I'm about to come."

"Do you want to?" Bucky asks, running a single finger down the glistening shaft of Sam's cock, making it jump under his touch.

"'Course I do," Sam manages. "But you’re the lucky cat with your nine lives. I’ve got to make the most of mine, so don’t you dare."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart," Bucky says, and then he stands up, tucks Sam back in, and kisses him lightly on the lips. "Let's go back inside before someone misses us."

The night drags on, with mingling and cocktails and speech upon speech upon speech, and the only thing Bucky can think about is how Sam said he’d been hard for hours, how when Bucky leans in to ask, Sam says he still is. It’s enough to drive Bucky to distraction. He knows Sam can toe that line for a long time in the privacy of their own bedroom, when Bucky’s there to push his buttons and Sam can call the shots. And while they regularly leave it at to be continued, this is definitely a first. Bucky knows Sam would never lie to him, and yet he quickly becomes obsessed with making sure what he said holds true.

His unofficial status as Sam’s protector gives Bucky plenty of opportunity to keep close, to smoothly step in front of Sam, to gently manhandle him in a crowded corridor. And whenever he gets the chance, he checks, with his hands, his legs, any part of him that he can get close enough, if Sam is still hard. He always is.

“How are you doing that, huh?” Bucky says, voice ragged and ruined when they steal a moment in an empty bathroom. He palms Sam through his pants, and when Sam pushes his hand away, he presses down on his own cock instead for some small relief; by now, Sam’s not the only one with a permanent boner.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sam says. He steps close and briefly drags his teeth along Bucky’s jawline before putting his hand on top of Bucky’s, twining their fingers together and pulling both their hands away. “Now don’t go wasting any of that.”

“We need to get the fuck out of here and back into bed,” Bucky groans. 

“Think we’ve stayed long enough to leave without it being a thing?” Sam asks, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s neck.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says, tipping his head aside to accommodate Sam. “Definitely.”

“Good thing I ordered the cab for midnight.”



The moment the front door closes, Bucky is all over Sam, kissing him breathless up against the wall, hoisting him up to let him wrap his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky carries him up the stairs like that, making sure Sam can feel his cock through his pants, bumping against his ass with every step.

“I’m gonna wreck you so bad,” Bucky mumbles against Sam’s lips.

Sam hums contentedly, kissing Bucky over and over. “Can’t wait, baby.”

In the bedroom, Bucky lowers Sam onto the bed, then starts tugging at his tie, at his shirt, desperate to get out of his clothes and into Sam. Sam, on the other hand, takes his time, lying back on the bed to watch Bucky while he slowly undoes his shirt, one button at a time. By the time Bucky is naked, his cock at full attention, Sam is only just unbuckling his belt, so he takes the opportunity to rummage around in the drawer of the bedside table for lube.

“Leave it,” Sam says.

Bucky looks over at Sam with a frown just in time to see Sam hook his thumbs in his pants and boxers both, pulling them both down in one smooth movement. Inevitably, his gaze is drawn to Sam’s ass, and what he sees there makes his heart stutter; the subtle gleam of a golden plug, sitting snug and blocking Sam’s entrance.

Mesmerized, Bucky climbs onto the bed, crawling forward until he’s kneeling between Sam’s thighs with a full view of Sam’s hard cock, of his stoppered ass. Sam looks up at Bucky from under his lashes with a wicked little smile.

“You wanted to know how I stayed hard,” he says, and Bucky can’t do anything but nod mutely. “Best way to make sure I stay hard,” Sam says, “is to keep you inside me, right?”

Bucky shivers with pleasure, feels his cock twitch between his legs. “Right,” he breathes.

“So I kept you inside me. All night.”

Sam pulls his knees back, angling his ass up, then reaches down to work the plug out. He moans, and then it comes loose, followed by a slow trickle of white that Bucky suddenly realizes is his own cum.

“Oh Jesus, Sam,” he gasps, and just like that he’s coming, his untouched cock spilling everywhere; on Sam’s thighs, his cock, his abs.

“Put it in me,” Sam urges, and Bucky scrambles forward to oblige him.

It’s such an easy, filthy slide that Bucky’s orgasm starts all over, making him drive his cock into Sam again and again until he slumps forward to rest his forehead against Sam’s.

“Damn, baby,” he breathes, peppering Sam’s face with kisses. 

“That’s one,” Sam says, cupping Bucky’s cheek with gentle fingers. “You up for one more?”

Bucky turns his face into Sam’s hand, kissing his palm. Then he angles his hips teasingly, showing Sam how up for it he is. “I’m not done until you are,” he says, and he prays he can make good on those words.

A marathon session like this requires some preparation, and with a bit of careful maneuvering, they manage to push a couple of pillows under Sam’s ass without Bucky pulling out.

“You good, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, dragging his cock experimentally in and out of Sam a few times.

“Never better,” Sam says, and when Bucky thrusts a little harder, his mouth falls open with pleasure.

“Can’t believe you walked around with your ass full of cum all night,” Bucky says, and saying the words out loud makes the full truth of them hit all that harder. It’s a heady feeling, knowing that this is what’s kept Sam on edge for hours, that he is.

“Can’t believe I’ve never done it before,” Sam says. “Felt so good, baby. Still feels good.”

And Bucky can only agree. Sam is always ready for him, always eager, but to find him stretched open and soaked like this is something else. Bucky can feel another orgasm building, and he fumbles for Sam’s hand.

“Gonna come,” he says, curling his fingers around Sam’s.

“That’s right,” Sam says, squeezing right back. “Come on, baby, fill me up.”

For a second round, it’s more powerful than it has any right to be, and Bucky kind of loses it for a moment, pounding into Sam without holding back, and it’s only when he feels Sam’s hand on his chest, gently bracing against him, that he remembers they’re on a mission here.

“Sorry,” he says, forcing himself to stop and refocus. “Sorry, got a bit lost in the moment.”

“You and me both,” Sam says shakily, looking down between them at his cock. The head is resting against his abs in a small puddle of jizz, and Bucky sucks in a breath.

“Did I… Did you–”

“No, we’re good,” Sam says. “Just a close call. Give me your hand and let's get you number three.”

When Sam takes two of Bucky’s fingers into his mouth, it’s almost painful not to move, but he knows better than to bring Sam off too soon. And this is heavenly, too, Sam’s working Bucky’s fingers over with his tongue, sucking at first softly, and then hard, until Bucky comes again with a shout, keeping perfectly still as he pumps into Sam’s ass. Sam hums, his moans muffled by Bucky’s fingers, and his cock jumps against his belly with every pulse of cum that Bucky puts in him.

“You still up for this?” Sam asks when Bucky sways a little on his knees.

“As long as you want, babe,” Bucky says, his vision swimming a little.

They manage a fourth soon after, but the fifth is a long time coming, because Sam keeps getting too close, and when Bucky’s climax finally hits, it’s to Sam pressing his face into the pillow, reciting the oath of enlistment over and over.

“I think we’re just gonna have to settle for six,” Sam says afterwards. He’s drenched in sweat, and his cock has dribbled all over his abs again.

“Six is great,” Bucky agrees dazedly, shifting on his knees. 

By now, Sam is leaking around him, a steady trickle of cum making its way out of Sam and onto the sheets. Pushing in deeper isn’t helping; it serves only to force more jizz out, as if they’ve reached some kind of limit for what Sam’s ass can hold.

None of that matters now, though, because when Bucky moves again, it’s with a single goal in mind; to make Sam come as hard as humanly possible. He takes Sam in hand and starts jerking him, changes the angle of his hips and fucks into Sam the way he knows will hit that sweet spot, and Sam cries out in a wordless plea for more.

“Oh baby,” Sam groans. “Oh baby I’m gonna come so hard. God, I can feel it. It’s gonna be so good. You’re so good to me you don’t even know.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bucky pants. “That’s all I want. All I want is to make you feel good.”

“It’s so good,” Sam says, looking up at Bucky through tear-soaked lashes. “So fucking good. Come with me, baby. Let’s do it together, come on.”

And when Sam groans and clenches around Bucky, Bucky comes in a rush of heat, wave after wave of satisfying warmth surging through him. But when he looks down at Sam, his gaze is steady, almost calm, and Bucky realizes that he’s not there yet, that Sam’s cock is still hard and unyielding in Bucky’s hand.

“One more,” Sam says breathlessly. “For luck.”

“Oh Jesus,” Bucky says, almost sobbing, but he hoists Sam’s legs a little further up on his thighs and slams into him again.

From here on out, there's no finesse to it, because now Bucky has to chase it, has to will himself to not flag and power through the overwhelming sensitivity of coming for what he thought was a final time. He’s a mess, Sam’s ass is a mess, it’s all a mess, and he almost forgets he’s supposed to be getting Sam there as well until Sam guides Bucky’s hand back onto his cock. Sam whispers sweet nothings to Bucky, letting him know how good he’s being to Sam, how badly Sam wants Bucky’s cum, but what tips the scales is seeing Sam finally, finally come undone.

It builds slowly, Sam’s hold on Bucky’s arm tightening bit by bit, his brows drawing together, but then they’re barrelling towards it as sure as anything. Bucky can feel it, can feel Sam’s cock swelling in his hand, his ass clenching faster and faster to match Bucky’s thrusts.

“Now,” Sam whispers, and the word is like a key, sliding into a lock, letting Bucky bury himself deep inside Sam and let go.

This time, Sam is coming too, and once it hits, it goes on forever. He looks down at himself, mouth open in a silent shout as he lets Bucky use his cock to spray rope after rope of cum, painting his abs and chest with it until Sam slumps back on the pillows, utterly spent.

By the time they've washed one another clean and changed the sheets, the sun is already on its way up.

“We need blackout curtains for this place,” Sam murmurs where he’s lying curled up in Bucky’s arms. “I’m gonna wake up at, like, eight and not be able to go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna be a problem for me,” Bucky says.

“I still can’t get over the way you can sleep absolutely anywhere, at any time,” Sam complains.

“And I still can’t get over the way you snuck a plug up your ass and walked around with my cum in there all night without telling me, and then faked a freaking orgasm.”

“Worth it,” Sam says, tipping his head up to give Bucky a sleepy kiss. “For that lucky number seven.”