allmymuscles | (no subject)

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[ They end up staying at Steve's place instead of going back to Bucky's, the little bare, clean room with its stove off to one side, its threadbare couch with cushions that sag till your ass is almost on the floor, a closet-like second room with a mattress, barely qualifying as a bedroom. Pitcher and ewer. Table and chairs. Bucky's spent time there before and he's not snobbish about it; his own family's got better, but not by that much. Seems emptier now, sadder without Sarah; she was a nice woman. He should have bullied Steve harder into coming home with him, but then again, maybe it would've just depressed him to be surrounded by a family that isn't his own.

His folks will understand if he doesn't come home tonight. And he doesn't mean to, he'd rather stay with Steve, rather do what he can to look after him, because somebody's got to. Because this is his best friend in the world, and Bucky would do anything to remind him that he isn't alone.

They occupy the sofa together, a spring or some twisted piece of metal digging into Bucky's back, but he doesn't complain; he's got his arm around Steve's skinny shoulders and he's pulled him in until his head is leaned against his collar. Bucky's face is turned to him, his lips against his hair. ] We could go to that deli down the street, have a slice of pie or something. I'm buying if you want it. [ He's already pretty sure what Steve's answer will be but it's okay, he's not here to make him do anything he doesn't feel like doing. He's just here to be with him. ]

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[ Bucky's presence is something he's grateful for, in the wake of all the silence and the uncertainty of his future. His mother had always been the foundation of his life, next to Bucky. She had been the one who taught him how to be resilient, how to get up after every fight. She had been sick for a long time, and he knew it was coming -- but even then, her final breath had still been sudden.

She died in her service to the ill, to the poor and the vulnerable, and Steve would never forget that. Their apartment is shabby and small, with furniture that leaves much to be desired but it's home.

It's home, and now there's a large piece of it missing. Steve closes his eyes and tries not to cry, tries to comfort himself with the fact that she's with Dad now, too, and they're happy together. She'd lived a hard life, but a good one, he likes to think. There are a lot of things he has to do on his own now, and he doesn't want to think about it.

He's curled up against his best friend's larger frame, his hands gripping the front of his shirt, over the dapper waistcoat he had worn for the funeral. Bucky had been very handsome today, somber and sad, with his slicked back hair and his polished shoes, and Steve shakes his head. ]

I'm not hungry.

[ He just wants to be with Bucky, turning over his words in his mind. End of the line, he'd promised. Together until the end of everything -- they'll both die too, one day, but the thought of losing Bucky is excruciating, too painful to consider. His lips are pressed against the skin of his throat, his legs tangled with his friend's, and it's only after a minute's silence that he asks: ]

Did you really mean that? What you said earlier.

[ He gets that, the missing piece. It wasn't his ma, but he's known Steve for so long that he feels Sarah's absence, too, the way this little apartment seems emptier without her. She filled up the space with a smiling, resilient spirit. He could see where Steve had gotten it from, when he was around her. And he doesn't want Steve to have to be alone this first night, wants to spare him ever being alone without somebody else's presence to fill up the hollow spaces, even though he knows he can't be with him every minute--there will be times when Steve is alone, when he feels alone, and it makes Bucky ache, knowing that.

He gets not being hungry, too, and he's not here to push, though he might have to bully Steve into some oatmeal or something tomorrow morning, just enough to make sure he's not neglecting himself completely. That's part of a best friend's job, taking care, looking after a person too sad to look after himself. His hair's starting to lose hold, and a thick forelock flops over his eyes as he leans his head down to brush his lips at Steve's temple. It makes his heart hurt that Steve even has to ask, but he gets it. Steve's in a vulnerable place right now. ]

Course I did, pal. Don't even think about it. [ End of the line. He said it and he meant it, more than anything else. Bucky's got no plans to die, and no plans to leave Steve Rogers by himself. ] C'mon, we both know how much trouble you'd get yourself into without me.

[ Steve musters a faint smile that is gone as quickly as it comes, and he looks up only to delicately brush that misbehaving forelock back from those pretty green eyes -- Bucky has the enviable gift of looking devastatingly handsome no matter the situation, and now is no exception. He's warm, kind and here, and Steve knows he needs him more than ever despite the strong front he puts up.

He'd just lost his mother, and he's working very hard to be okay with that, to grieve for her and to come to terms with the loss. He knows that Bucky is sad too, that he's worried for him all at the same time, and he winds a skinny arm around the bigger man's waist, accepting the kiss at his temple and leaning against him in a bid for warmth, for intimacy.

Steve is grateful that he's here even if he doesn't say it, and he nuzzles against his jaw, hesitantly moving to kiss his mouth, tentative, chaste and soft. ]

Lots. [ Steve tells him, this one precious person he's got left in the world. Steve has nothing else for him now, nothing but Bucky. ]

You're the only one I got left.

[ Damned if that doesn't go straight to his heart. That soft, sad kiss, those softer words, you're the only one I got left, like a statement of fact. And sadly enough, it's mostly true, though Bucky wants him to have so much more and would love to be the one to give it to him. Steve's always been a loner, a scrappy little fighter, surrounded by people who turn a blind eye to the brave spirit under the surface, the kindness and good humor that makes up Steve Rogers; it outrages him that more people don't see it. And one that did is gone now. ]

Hey. [ He brushes some of the blond hair back from Steve's eyes, gaze dropping to his lips, already flushing pink from just that light, chaste kiss. And it occurs to Bucky that maybe he was wrong when he thought about this earlier, when he thought that the last thing Steve needed tonight was a marauding friend looking for him to give it up; maybe a good marauding is just in line with what Steve needs. It couldn't hurt to get his mind off things for a while. He takes hold of his chin between thumb and forefinger, leaning down and brushing Steve's lips in return, this kiss just as soft but not tentative, nothing tentative about his mouth coaxing Steve's to open, tongue dipping past his lips when he does. It's an offer, an invitation. It wouldn't hurt him to be refused--he might be off the mark in gauging what Steve needs, and if he is that's okay, but it ought to be for him to offer.

Just in case Steve needs some taking care of.

His voice is huskier now when he breaks the kiss to speak. ] You've got me for life, kid. Okay?

[ It's entirely true, if you want to look at it that way. It's true because there's little to his name, there's nothing that Steve has to him with the loss of his mother. He's never quite had friends as much as he had bullies, too strange, too easily sick, too little to be taken seriously. Bucky had come along then -- he had changed his life for the better, and without him, without him, Steve won't quite know what to do.

Without him, he would feel so much more alone than this. He trembles, just a little, when Bucky kisses him, firm and searching and inviting; and he knows that his best friend, his only friend had seen through to what he needs (as always, because he's the one who helps pay for the medicines even though Steve told him he didn't have to), and his eyes flutter shut, needy for comfort, for the things only Bucky could give him.

He leans into it more than he decently should, knows the invitation for what it is, and he cups his face, eyelids shuttered as he bites his lip. He needs him tonight, so much more than he ever thought he would, and he's more aware of his own mortality than ever, of Bucky's. Tomorrow, either one of them could be buried in the ground, and Steve's never been more uncertain of his future. ]

Not a kid, Buck. [ He says softly, and he doesn't refuse when he leans in for another kiss, to assure himself that Bucky's here with him, that he's not going anywhere. He exhales shakily, swallows a quiet, distressed noise, and he's torn between laughing and crying and settles for a strange amalgamation of both. ] My ma's dead.

[ He exhales softly as Steve kisses him again with that sweet mouth, the tremor through his small frame making him ache all over again. Feels so good to be wanted, needed, and that's one thing Steve never seems to get without Bucky reminding him: how much Steve means to him, too. How could he not? He's the best thing in Bucky's life. Familiar, always there with him, the best friend Bucky's got and more than that, he just can't picture a day without Steve in it, though for all he knows he'll probably be overseas soon, having to learn to live without knowing what this sharp little punk is going to say or do next. He tries not to think much about it. ]

Yeah, I know. [ An apology in the words and his hands cradling Steve's face as he returns the kiss. Bucky's always teased him, riled him, loves to make him laugh or hear some smart remark in return; he means it with love. His lips ease over Steve's, and when the kiss breaks he drops his hands lower and lifts Steve right into his lap, settling him down across his thighs--he's so easy to maneuver, so small and lightweight, and about the only time he doesn't turn sore over it is when Bucky wants him closer.

Well, he could turn sore over it now if he wants, but it won't stop Bucky from gripping his hair in both hands and taking another kiss, not so much gentle this time as wanton, making his intentions nice and clear even before he pushes Steve's jacket off his skinny shoulders. He kisses the wet curve of his friend's cheek, gathering him in close, tugging his shirt out from the waistband of his pants so he can get his hands under it, run them over bare skin. It's not so much about wanting to get inside of him--though Bucky does, he's starting to feel that familiar ache building up--as it is about wanting intimacy, wanting to give it and share it as far as Steve will permit him. He'd do anything to stop him feeling alone, for as long as he could. ]

Jerk.

[ That little maneuver earns Bucky a half-hearted slap to the chest -- it's always been a point of contention when his bigger friend moves him over him like he's one of his girlfriends, light as a feather and thirty pounds soaking wet. It's not entirely a rational thing to be pissed about, but a part of him is grateful for it, a slip of normalcy in the face of a tragedy.

Bucky gives him what he needs, what he's always yearned for and he thanks him for it by straddling his lap properly, both legs bracketing Bucky's, keeping him in between his thighs even though he's more than aware of the fact that Bucky can pretty much lift him wherever he damn well wants. He's slender, small but fierce against him, his mouth demanding, kissing Bucky hard and taking what he needs.

He gasps softly, nimble fingers unbuttoning Bucky's vest, only stopping to shrug his narrow shoulders, slipping the jacket off. He's unbuttoning the other's shirt in quick order, shuddering and pressing against Bucky's rough palms when he's running them over his skin. He's missed this, he loves this, aches for it now more than ever -- he would never know what to do with himself if Bucky's gone from him, if he slips through his fingers like so much fine sand.

He won't -- Bucky won't go far; Steve would always find him and bring him back again. With a low groan, he latches desperately on to the intimacy of it, the sweetness of his presence, the strength of Bucky's frame when he runs his fingers through that slick hair, messing it up in retaliation. ]

I'm glad you stayed. [ He admits finally, a ragged whisper as his cheeks fill with color, big blue eyes regarding him with gratitude, with heat. He's always been too proud to ask for help, and Bucky's always given it to him any way.

He cups his lover's handsome face, that strong jaw, holds him still for a minute before he kisses his mouth again and again. ] ...don't know what I'd do without you, Buck.

[ He chuckles, a quiet sound smothered by Steve's needy mouth, pleased that his friend can be riled over his manhandling even now. Little slips of normalcy are all they can hope for, really. He's sorry for Steve, he's as sympathetic as he could want for his loss, but sympathy isn't the same thing as pity; he won't treat him like he's made of glass, not just because Steve would hate that but because he deserves so much better. He deserves someone who understands him, who's with him like he would be any other day, who's always got his back no matter what comes. He hopes that he can be everything Steve needs. Because if it were the reverse, if it were him feeling all alone in the world except for the one friend he's got left, he knows Steve wouldn't leave his side for a moment. ]

You don't get to find out, Stevie. [ He's smiling between kisses but he means it, with all his heart he means it, any reassurance that Steve could need from him. He's here, he's not going anywhere else. He gets the waistcoat that Steve's already unbuttoned off, not looking to see where it lands when he drops it, and slides a hand into Steve's hair even as he's starting on his shirt--tips his head up, kisses him so long and deep that it makes him ache, his mouth tender, urging Steve to give it up for him, give up all the sweetness in him. Like he's one of his girls, yeah, the best one Bucky's ever had, the one he wants for life. Why shouldn't he kiss him like that?

His hair's falling over his eyes again, now that Steve's mussed it all up, but that's just fine, he wants to end up far more mussed than this. Waits until Steve's got the buttons all down his shirt undone, patient, cradling him while he draws out kisses into long lingering caresses of his mouth, until Steve's lips are wet and supple and swollen and he can feel him starting to struggle for air. He backs off then, breaking the kiss but not going far, just enough to shrug the dress shirt from his shoulders, strip the white undershirt over his head. ] Want to get on your knees for me, Steve, what do you think? Want to get under me?

You can stay under me.

[ Steve tells him, low and quiet; and he knows exactly what Bucky's doing. He's not treating him like glass, he's treating him the way he does every other day, like it's normal, and Steve is hungry for it right now. He's tired of the pity of others, the sympathetic looks that he gets from the neighbors because he's all alone, and he still hasn't quite figured out what to do with himself -- art doesn't sell well, these days. Bucky is all that he could ever need, all that he's wanted because he knows him far too well, and Steve loves him for all that he is, the gentle humor and the charm that he pours on for the girls, the kindness and the warmth that are shrouded by a flirty nature.

He knows all of it and loves him anyway, and he's glad that he's staying over, and not leaving his side. He's looking down at Bucky's naked torso now, the way muscles ripple over his tanned skin, product of hard work in the sun, an honest day's labor in the docks where Steve had also been searching for work. He settles into Bucky's hold, adjusts to him willingly, eagerly, desire sparking under his skin as grief takes a back seat, taking the comfort that Bucky gives so generously, so lovingly.

His hair's falling all over his face and Steve is helping with it, loving the sight of a disheveled Barnes -- he's remarkably, recklessly handsome like this, and he can't help but press kiss-bruised lips to his mouth again, groaning softly and delighting in the passion he inspires, the way he kisses him like he means it. To spend a lifetime with him, why not? The end of the line, right? The words tumble over and over in his head, and he's breathing hard, exertion making him stop for a moment, and he looks back at him with bright eyes. ] You just want someone to take your place when that couch spring digs into your back.

[ But he doesn't stop there; he unbuckles Bucky's belt and unzips him, reaches his hand in, deft and small, and closing around his cock before drawing it out from his briefs. He's shifting off of him only to go lower, kissing his way down his chest, his flat stomach, over the trail of dark hair to the head of his swollen cock, thick and growing with every minute that passes. Yes, he remembers this, he remembers how good it feels inside him, how good he could make Bucky feel when he fucks his mouth. He drops butterfly kisses over the head, never breaking eye contact. I love you, he wants to say. I love you so much. ]

[ There's that sharpness he's so familiar with, that gleam in the eye, that smart mouth: he knows it never went far, because even on his worst days Steve is still Steve. Bucky's seen him flat on his back in an infirmary bed, his lungs so damned close to quitting on him that it made Bucky feel like he was the one who couldn't catch his breath, dizzy with fear until a smile and a weak little quip brought laughter helplessly from his throat. He knew his oldest and best friend would still be with him, even now. Still mouthing off like he's got every right in the world to tell Bucky what to do--and damned if he doesn't love taking orders from him. ]

Doesn't have to be on the couch. [ He answers low and purring, stealing another kiss before Steve gets his pants open and gets his hand around his cock, the sensation of those small, warm fingers wrapping tight around him stopping him in his tracks; his head tips back a little and Bucky groans, eyes falling shut. Aware of Steve's mouth making his way lower, and he doesn't--damn it, Bucky should be comforting him, not letting him chase after Bucky's pleasure like some pretty thing eager to please, but God, that's a good look for Steve, that slender hand around his thick cock, those swollen, flushed lips brushing softly to the head; he's opened his eyes again to stare, hand tensing on the edge of the couch as he wars with the urge to tangle his fingers in Steve's hair and push him down. He's done it before. It made Steve moan for him, taking the mouthful of cock like he was born for it, like nothing in the world could be better than pushing Bucky to the point of recklessly, wantonly fucking his mouth. ]

Steve--you don't gotta-- [ But he can barely even get the words out, he wants him to. Compromises by putting a hand on Steve's cheek, caressing him fervently, his thumb dipping down to trace the lips just barely parted for the head of his cock. ]

[ Steve looks up at him innocently -- or as innocently as one can when his lips are wrapped decadently, obscenely around his cock, and he's gently sucking on the head of him, slowly taking more and more into his mouth. There is a potent pleasure in seeing Bucky coming so close to being undone, and he moans softly, quietly, the way he knows Bucky likes it. He's always liked pleasing him, and this time shouldn't be any different, should it?

His ma's dead and Steve's all alone with his best friend in the world, the one man who means everything to him -- it shouldn't be different.

He wants Bucky to do it, to push him down and take his cock, to push his beloved thick, long dick down Steve's throat and watch him take it in shamelessly. Steve is okay with that, a pretty thing eager to please him. He lets his lips pucker briefly against that calloused thumb before he smiles and takes more of his cock in, sucking hard once, twice, with wet, slick sounds, his heart hammering in his chest at the exertion, at the anticipation.

He's pulling Bucky's pants down further, fingers gently kneading at his balls, cupping him and squeezing. ]

I wanna --

Hey--hey Steve--

[ When did his voice get this breathless? Like he's been running miles without pause, like air is something to be gulped in and not just breathed, his heart hammering at the sight of Steve Rogers down there with his mouth teasing so sweetly. Bucky's supposed to be taking care of him. Steve, though--Steve never wants to let himself get taken care of, even when he's hurt bad, even when he's too tired and sick to be fighting all his self-appointed battles alone, and he supposes this time really is no different; it's still them, and they're the best of friends to one another, and Steve is as obsessed with taking care of Bucky at times like this as the reverse. More, probably, because he can't go a moment in his life without feeling like he's got something to prove.

He shudders hard at those touches, Steve making good on the impulse to get down on his knees for him, and he gives in and threads his fingers into Steve's hair, guiding him gently to his cock: groans low in his throat when Steve takes him in, hot and wet and sucking him hard, a torment of heat and pleasure. ] Don't--don't let me stop you. [ He mutters the words, eyes closing, fingers running fervently through Steve's hair. Yeah, he knows what he wants.

He gives him some time, first, to get acclimated, to get the rhythm of breathing in between sucking, to get hot with anticipation. All the while Bucky's so tensed up he's twitching, finally taking a handful of Steve's hair with a guttural sound and holding him firm and lifting up his hips, fucking up into that sweet mouth, pulling him down a little into the strokes. Yeah. That's what he likes. ]

[ Good, better.

He knows when Bucky's fighting his own instincts, wanting to reach out to comfort him, to pamper him and to do all that he needs so that Steve feels better, but he denies him that sometimes, often, because Steve as he is has too much to prove all the time. And this? This is one of them, too -- he takes his comfort by pleasing Bucky, giving back what the man's given to him all along without complaint, without expectation.

The sight of him is exquisite, and Steve looks at him like he's dying to have him, to want more. He likes this, too, he loves when Bucky shows him what he likes, when he encourages him and eggs him on, and Steve only smiles, preparing himself for his cock and fighting down his gag reflex, head bobbing with every thrust up. He loves it, adores how he fits inside, and he gently draws Bucky's hand to his throat when he takes him in deep, letting him feel the way it bulges just that little bit more, to show him that see, this is him, this is what Steve likes best, too.

He groans softly, unable to suck when he's so deep inside, but he moves anyway, letting him fuck his throat, wanting to make him come. He cradles his balls like they're precious -- and they are -- before his fingers find the sensitive patch of skin behind it and he strokes him right there, firm and deliberate. ]

[ Steve, he's so good, his mouth hungry and warm, a torment and a delight as it takes him in, makes him groan in surrender. The other hand comes to his hair too, weaving between soft blond strands as he takes a firm hold--he's gentler than he would have his friend believe, always careful of his limitations, but he guides Steve down until he's swallowing him and groaning around him, catching breath on the upstrokes. Always, there's that balancing act between them--between his restraint and Steve's pride, between his fervent need to take care of Steve without letting him know he's doing it. He's gotten pretty good at it, he thinks, had years of practice.

He knows what Steve likes, and what Bucky likes is to give it to him. Breath catching when Steve guides his hand to his throat, and fuck that's obscene, the way his throat bulges when he swallows him. The skillful, knowing touches over his balls, the fingers pressing firm right beneath them--and his whole body jerks at that, sensation hot and sweet in his groin, in his cock, his fingers tightening convulsively. ]

Oh God you're so fuckin' good. [ Bucky's head falls back, his eyes close, his mouth falls open and says things he'd never say to the girls he goes walking with. ] You know that? Could fuck that pretty mouth all day. You'd like it if I did, wouldn't you, Steve, you'd love to suck my dick till your jaw ached, I know you would.

[ Steve would like it very, very much -- never before has he been so hungry for anyone else's cock, so eager to be fucked like this, the wet, throaty sounds of his lover's cock pushing inside over and over causing saliva to trail down the side of his mouth, to bathe that lovely shaft in his spit, making it smoother when he fucks into his throat.

Bucky is gentle and Steve knows it, even in the throes of passion he is generous and thoughtful, and while he doesn't bring that up, he appreciates it all the same. It's the things they don't say, the sweetness of Bucky's tender considerations, and a hand comes to his thigh to hold him while his head bobs, fingers of his other hand continuing to stimulate him, to rub over that soft, velvet patch of skin behind his balls.

Oh, he loves Bucky so, he would worship his body anytime he wanted, for hours, for days -- he smiles and absorbs the filthy words, color high in his pale cheeks. He lets his cock slip out of him before he simply sucks at the head, alternating between kissing and licking. ]

Come in my mouth. I want to swallow you. [ Another soft kiss. ] Drink down every drop of you. [ And he starts to suck again in earnest, happily taking to his cock with a shameless, eager grace. ]

Yeah. [ His eyes are still closed as he replies, fingers redoubling their grasp in Steve's hair; he gulps deep breaths of air between sentences. ] Yeah, I'm gonna. Gonna watch you when I do, watch it spill from your pretty lips, I know you like that.

[ Sometimes when they do this, when Steve is on his knees for him, Bucky comes so hard Steve can't keep up with it, can't swallow it all, and Bucky thinks he loves that best, loves it when his best friend's pleasure makes a mess of him. And fuck if Bucky doesn't love it too. Steve doesn't know how good he is, how gifted--that hot mouth sucking his cock with abandon, the velvety fingertips stroking him in exactly the right place to make him ache deep in his belly and his balls, to stoke his pleasure so quickly he can barely think.

He shudders as he begins to spurt, release taking him so quickly it'd be humiliating if he was with a girl and not the friend who has known him almost since birth, who loves Bucky's pleasure as much as he loves his own; he pushes Steve down on him the way he knows he likes, makes him swallow him, hot slick pulses of seed down his throat, opening his eyes to watch the way he promised--the stretch of Steve's swollen red lips around his cock, the flush high in his cheeks, his wet lashes framing bright eyes, so obscene and so gorgeous. ]

[ Bucky's right -- he likes it. Loves it, in fact, for all the reactions he gets to inspire out of his gorgeous best friend and lover, for the way Bucky comes undone before him. Bucky had always been the one following after him into fights, getting him out of trouble or fighting together with him; he'd earned more than his fair share of bruises because of him, and for that, for all of the things he had done for him through the years, Steve owes him.

He owes him even now, too, when he gives him just what he needs to distract himself, to step away from the tragedy of his circumstances to focus on something more. The other man's cock is pushed down his throat so wonderfully, and to feel those spurts shoot down inside him is an incredible, erotic experience, and he swallows around him again and again, drinking down every drop and feeling his own cock stir in response.

He lets him watch, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Bucky looks so gone for him, reveling in his lover's pleasure like it's his own. He's touching himself shyly now, fingers finding his own cock to rub, to stroke, moaning quietly around his thick shaft before he lets him go with a slick pop, a single string of saliva connecting them both still.

Wiping the back of his mouth with the back of his hand, Steve looks up at Bucky, taking in how undone and gorgeous he is when he comes, happy that he's the only one who gets to see it. Breathless, he asks, ]

You liked that, huh?

[ The thing that makes it all so perfect is how Steve stays with him until the last moment, swallowing his seed again and again, looking him in the eyes without shame. His lips shining and wet when finally his cock slides heavily from his lips, and it makes Bucky groan to see that, reaching down to cup Steve's face between his hands. ] So much, Steve. So-- [ He doesn't finish the sentence, sliding down off the couch to his knees and taking Steve's mouth in a hungry kiss, tasting himself thick on his tongue. Hands cradling his jaw, tongue sliding deep into his mouth, licking away the traces of himself until all he can taste is Steve, until he feels like he's burning up the way Steve sometimes burns up with fever; he wants to be gentle with him, wants to take care of him the way he ought but he can feel how Steve's lips are swollen still from sucking his cock and it delights him, thrills him.

Bucky reaches down one-handed, wrapping his fingers around Steve's where they are stroking his cock, Steve's hand almost lost in his as he tightens his grasp and guides his rhythm, making it thorough and slow. His other arm goes around Steve's waist and half-lifts him and guides him down to his back on the floor, Bucky moving over him without breaking the kiss, struggling a little to help Steve get his arms out of the sleeves of his dress shirt--hating to interrupt his pleasure for even a moment, but he does it and shoves Steve's pants down his bony hips and gets their hands entangled around his cock again, finally breaking away from his mouth only to bite into his throat, passionately sucking a bruise to the surface of the pale, delicate skin. He feels so good, warm and squirming underneath him, his cock hot and hard against their fingers, and Bucky shoves a knee between his legs, sweating and hot and all tangled up in his pants and Steve's and not caring at all, anxious to be as close to him as he can.

He wants to fuck him, thighs spread wide around his hips and Steve's arms clinging around him and his voice moaning curses and pleas in his ear. Bucky presses himself subtly against Steve's hip as they kiss, stroking him with a steady hand and waiting for his own sated body to wake up again to the smell and taste of Steve's skin, the want and need coursing through him. ]

[ Steve's surprised by the kiss, but he throws himself into it with an unbridled enthusiasm, a desperation and a need triggered by a loss so close to his heart, wanting comfort, wanting a distraction, wanting to be loved and to love in turn. He's the only one left now, and he doesn't want to be alone. Bucky makes him feel like he can do anything, and he wants to keep that feeling, losing himself to the pleasure the other man gives him, easing back against the floor and looking up at him, watching the way he moves.

Bucky's always been heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and he leans back to let him, divesting himself of his shirt and wriggling out of his pants; they're going to have sex in the home he shared with Sarah, the home that's all his now and for some reason it make him want it more, gasping and squirming at the lovebite that his best friend leaves on his skin. He would wear it for days, he thinks, button his shirt all the way up and make sure that no one sees.

His legs spread for him, and he guides Bucky closer after he kicks off his pants, thrusting into his hand with a soft yearning and a need that only Bucky could sate. The man's going to take a little while to get hard again, and he reaches down to help him, massaging his balls fondly and toying with his length, thumb rubbing over the slit of it. Steve is playing with him, enjoying the shape and weight of his cock, and happily helping him along, legs wrapping around the man's waist.

Bucky wants to fuck him and Steve knows, more than eager to indulge as he whispers breathlessly in his ear. ]

C'mon, I'm gonna get you hard again so you can fuck me -- you'd love that, won't you? Doesn't feel right unless I have you right up my ass and you're filling me up with every drop you've got.

Yeah, that's right. [ Bucky's mouth is at Steve's ear, Bucky's voice is tender, drunk on the pleasure of having Steve underneath him, of licking the sweat from his pale throat and stroking his cock with a steady hand and rocking his hips into Steve's touch, trusting his body to be ready again soon, waiting for it to happen while sweet, sated warmth runs through his veins. ] Gonna take good care of you. [ Because he wants that more than anything else. All his life he's wanted to take care of Steve, even when they were just kids and taking care of him meant blacking the eyes of the bullies he picked fights with and helping him with his homework at the side of a hospital bed. It changed as the years went by but the intention has always been the same: he knows Steve better than anyone and the power he has to make him happy, to give him something good in his life, it awes him sometimes.

Steve's touch on him feels so good, gentle and warm where Bucky is still sensitive, rolling his balls in his slender palm, teasing the length of his cock. Patient, helping him along when he knows Steve must be aching for it, and Bucky rewards him with deep, luxuriating kisses, his tongue in his mouth and his hand stroking in a firm rhythm, enough to keep Steve squirming against him: he hates to make him wait but he loves it too, keeping Steve interested, keeping him right on the edge of losing himself entirely to his pleasure. He could make Steve come in his hand, if he wanted to. He could--

Bucky breaks away from him after one last, soft kiss, already regretting parting from him for even momentarily. ] Hey, hang on just a sec. [ He knows where Steve keeps his tin of vaseline, old and nearly used up over all the years, but there's enough of it to scoop up generously onto his fingers when he comes back, lowering himself to the floor again next to Steve in the tangle of their clothes. ] Turn over, okay?

[ Steve pauses a moment before he turns over, not out of hesitation but frankly appreciating the view when Bucky comes back, his cock thick and half-hard between his legs and really -- there is no finer sight than this.

He gets on his knees and elbows, reaching behind him to help his lover along mischievously, both fingers working to part his ass to reveal his pink, puckered hole -- he'd been waiting for this for a long, long time, and he trusts it; knows that Bucky's always taken care of him whether Steve wanted it or not, and he loves that the man is generous in so many, many ways.

Bucky Barnes, his Bucky -- anyone would be so lucky to have him but Steve refuses to share. He wiggles his ass at him, tempting him to get closer with the vaseline because he's impatient and he wants to be fucked, and now. ]

Gonna do me from behind, Buck?

[ He drops to his knees behind Steve, his blood already pounding at the sight of his best friend spreading himself apart in his two hands, opening himself up wide for him: that pale, perfect ass, the flushed, puckered hole, and Bucky drops a kiss onto the dimples just above his cheeks, then against the curve of a buttock, aching so badly for him he can feel his cock swelling out all the way like he hasn't just come a few minutes ago. ] Hold yourself just like that. [ His voice is husky; he doesn't bother answering Steve's question but instead brushes a kiss right at his hole, one of his hands coming up to brace his hip as he lingers there, rubbing just with his lips first, breathing against him, and then slowly beginning to wet him with his tongue.

This is so much better than stretching Steve with his fingers. He presses his mouth more firmly against him, hot and wet and coaxing him to open, coaxing that tight ring of muscle to loosen for his tongue, Steve's skin downy soft and pink and perfect, his fingers pressing pale marks into his buttocks as he holds himself spread for Bucky. It's beautiful, he's beautiful on his knees for him and Bucky wants to sink deep inside of him and never leave, and he wants to torment him with his mouth until he's writhing, begging. He sucks at his hole, greedy, lascivious, getting it wet with his saliva, circling the rim of the muscle with his tongue until at last he feels it relax enough that he can push his tongue into him, suckling, moaning obscenely into him just to rile him up. ]

[ Steve's arms tremble, the sudden unexpected sensation of Bucky's mouth on his hole, pressing up against where he's most intimate startles him. He's never expected this, never expected for it to feel so good -- he can't support himself, hitching himself up higher as he rests on his elbows, his cock jumping at the stimulation.

Bucky's talented at this, he's so good at it that Steve can barely catch his breath, overwhelmed with pleasure and leaking with arousal. ]

Buck -- [ He gasps, squirming against him and loosened, touching himself and wishing that he could reach back and touch him, kiss him the way he kissed and licked at his hole and oh, oh -- ]

Where'd you learn that --

[ It's his first time like this and Steve doesn't know what to think, whimpering and making soft, aroused little noises with every lick and suck, tongue-fucking him with relish. Steve tightens around him, riled and wanting. He's so damn good at this that it's obscene. Just obscene. ] Oh, Bucky --

[ He knew it would make Steve wild to feel this, make him tremble, make him sputter words of disbelief, and he knows Steve is no shy thing but they've never done this before, Bucky's never kissed and licked him open--wasn't something he knew guys did together for the longest time, didn't have any idea how good it could feel or he would have been doing this to Steve every night they were together, loosening him up every time he fucked him. He's got lost time to make up for now, he thinks. And Steve is so good for him, squirming and gasping and making sweet, quiet sounds in his throat, his hole clenching and then loosening as Bucky tongues it ruthlessly; he's touching himself, too, getting off on this, and Bucky likes that, loves being the one to pleasure him. ]

Yeah, Stevie. [ He nips gently at the curve of a buttock at he speaks, trails kisses down to a pale thigh, his voice pitched soothing. ] Told you I'd take care of you. Don't I always take care of you? [ Bucky is as good as family to Steve, he's always said so himself. And he's gonna be here as much as he can, as often as he can, for this or for anything else Steve needs from him, that's a promise.

His mouth moves back to his hole and his tongue slides into him again, slow and hot and wet, alternating with damp, sucking kisses and the gentle nibbling of his teeth: he wants to see if he can bring Steve off just like this, just with his mouth, the way he'd do for a girl he brought home. He bets he can. He bets Steve is close, the way he's arched and trembling, the sweet noises he makes. ]

[ He does. He does, and Steve can never deny it. Bucky is always the one who takes care of him, for better or worse -- Steve resists it most of the time, too proud to want to accept help, even if it's from his best friend. But Bucky wears him down the way he always does, with those eyes and that devilish mouth that's steadily turning him into an incoherent, whimpering mess.

He hadn't known this could be done, that Bucky would be this good at it, his tongue and his lips pressing into his most intimate areas, pushing into his hole and loosening him up; Steve is breathing hard and trembling, fighting to keep himself upright because the pleasure is becoming too much to bear, an overload on his senses.

Fingers curling into fists, Steve knows the truth of those words, and when he next speaks his voice is choked, paper-thin but heavy with lust, when he jerks himself off where Bucky can obviously see. ] You do. You always -- aaaaaaaaah, I love your tongue. [ He pushes himself back against him, draws in a deep breath -- ] You gonna tonguefuck me? Wanna see if I -- I come from that?

[ He grins at that, the mouth on Steve Rogers always makes him grin. ] Yeah, that's right. Bet you will, too. [ Bucky slides a pair of fingers into him, kissing gently all around his hole and fuck he's sweet and loose, all opened up from his mouth; he could get his cock into him right now so nice and easy, wouldn't hardly even need the vaseline, it'd just slide in like it belongs-- He groans, pressing another sucking kiss to Steve's hole, tongue dipping in with his fingers. ] Come for me now and then I'll fuck you after. You'll be so loose for me, won't even make you sore.

[ His fingers slip out, his tongue takes their place, his mouth filthy on Steve, wet and slick and hot, ruthless now that he wants to see him come. He holds him open, fingers clenched around the sweet curve of his cheeks, eyes closed, savoring this, savoring how hard Steve trembles so that Bucky's hands are holding him up as much as they're holding him open, keeping him positioned where he wants him. He can hear Steve gulping hard breaths, gotta be careful with how he breathes, making sure his lungs aren't working so hard they're not pulling in enough air, and Bucky is watchful for that, keeping his ears open, but so long as Steve can breathe and whimper and moan he won't stop, not till he comes, not till he falls apart for Bucky's mouth. ]

[ Steve Rogers' filthy mouth is reserved only for Bucky Barnes, to be perfectly honest -- he's rarely ever that foul-mouthed with anyone else, and definitely never going to voice out his dirtiest fantasies when they all belong, irrevocably, to the man who has his mouth on his hole, tongue-fucking him like he was made just to do it.

It's incredibly, wonderfully dirty and delightful, it's everything that makes Steve melt and shudder and mewl for more, because Bucky's that good, that talented at damn near everything that he does. Come for me now, he says, and Steve is hopelessly, terribly lost when he does, all else driven from his mind when his orgasm takes him by surprise, makes him cry out Bucky's name when he comes.

He comes in spurts, splashing all over the floor beneath as he shudders, his smaller body trembling violently under Bucky's hands, breath catching in his throat. He's shuddering, falling apart as he pushes back against his lover's mouth, wanting more, wanting to please Bucky in turn because he's never been selfish with his pleasure.

He grits his teeth, loosening up and shaking with the force of it, making a mess of himself as he presses his face into his folded arms, threatening to collapse underneath the onslaught of sensation. He loves that Bucky is supporting him even now, that he can feel the warmth, the love, everything that the other man doesn't withhold from him, and he loves him all the more for it. ] Bucky -- !

[ He loves this, he loves how filthy and wet and sweet he makes Steve, all loosened up for his tongue, shaking as he comes apart. It's the best kind of sex, messy and obscene, his skin beaded with sweat, the air thick and close in the little apartment and smelling of them, their skin and musk, the scent of Steve's come. He'd lock them both up in here forever if he could, living off Steve's pleasure, living only to fuck him, make a mess of him again and again. He grips Steve's softening cock, slick with his seed, and works it gently in his fingers, spending a few more moments kissing him softly, loathe to pull away from him.

He does, though, because his own cock is aching so fiercely he can't take it anymore. ] Turn over for me, Stevie. On your back--that's good, doll, that's so good-- [ He wants to see Steve's face when he's filling him up. Wants to look into his eyes, wants to see those big blues all dazed and dark for him, his sorrows put aside for a little while, and Bucky doesn't give him a chance to recover after coming, just spreads his thighs and lifts his hips up to his lap, kneeling between his legs, and fits the blunt head of his cock to the snug entrance of Steve's hole. He's already slicked up and Steve's already wet and loose and Bucky pushes into him before he can tighten again, working his hips in shallow thrust, gaining inch after inch into that hot sweet hole. ]

God, Steve, you're so-- [ Bucky's eyes close, his hips press forward, and he holds Steve in reverent hands, lifting one of his legs up to his shoulders to spread him out wider. The muscles of his back, sore from the docks, loosen deliciously as he flexes and slides into Steve, all the way in, pressing snug to his ass and turning his head to kiss the pale thigh that rests against his shoulder. ]

[ There's something incredible about the way Steve can render Bucky fresh out of words, the way he takes his breath away -- turnabout's fair play, he thinks, when so much of the time Bucky makes Steve forget himself, makes his breath catch with the simplest things. He will remember this always, the depth and sweetness of his best friend's love, the way he reacts to Bucky in turn, writhing and pushing back against him.

He might be smaller, he might be taking his lover's cock like a dame would, wet and slippery-slick and tight as a sheath, but he's every inch as demanding of Bucky's attentions. He arches with a low cry, the pleasure flooding his spine and drawing out a primitive response of being so full that he aches with it, the way Bucky's cock feels so good gliding easily inside his hole.

He stretches just a little, long lashes fluttering over big blue eyes, full red lips parted in soft gasps as he struggles to keep a hold of himself, melting into the pleasure that Bucky gives him and relishing every moment. He's a mess, warm come sticky at his back when his Bucky turns him over, and he shudders when the kisses are pressed against the inside of his thigh.

His balls tighten and he groans, still oversensitive, needing time to get hard again -- it's sweet torture when Bucky pushes forward, clenching tight around him as if his body knows how desperate he is to milk every drop of seed out of him. He's admiring that beautiful, handsome face, watching those dark lashes from his vantage point, and he exhales shakily, a hand coming down to cup his strong jaw. ]

-- damn beautiful. Bucky -- 'm never going to have enough of you.

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