[ Steve drops soft kisses along Bucky's shoulders, rolling his hips gently against him, cock wedged perfectly against the crease of his ass. Slow movements, tender and wanting; he refuses to be hurried even when Bucky is rocking his hips back against him, so eager to be fucked, his body saying it as much as his words do. ]

You want that, don't you, Buck? Me inside you? [ He wants it too, so badly he's aching for it. He always wants it, he's insatiable where Bucky is concerned, greedy for every moment of tender passion between them. It's as though he can't let Bucky out of his hands, having finally gotten him back after so long thinking he was dead: he's gotten him back damaged, broken in more ways than Steve can bear to think about, but still his.

Steve rubs against him, hips working in gentle motions, his cock stroking back and forth between Bucky's cheeks, teasing him. ] I could come like this, you know. Spill it onto your back, stain you with me. [ He grips just below Bucky's chin with an authoritative hand, turning his head back to him, covering his mouth in a kiss. It's a firm grip, not hard enough to restrict breath but just shy of it, hard enough to make Bucky pay attention. ] And you'd be a good boy and rock against me like that, make it good for me. Wouldn't you?