Archive of Our Own

When Bucky wakes up, his left shoulder is unpleasantly stiff, a feeling he’s been getting more and more familiar with lately, so he dials down his work-out a little bit that day. He still starts off with his usual morning run with Cliff, who’s more wound up than usual because Freddie and Louis are both out of town. Bucky can relate to Cliff’s discontent; he misses them, too.

Freddie has been gone for a week now, and it’ll be another two before he comes back from Hawaii with Briana’s family, and there’s a weird quiet without him around. He knows he and Louis will have him at the end of the summer for three weeks straight when they head off to England to visit with Louis’ family before Freddie heads back to school, but that isn’t very comforting now when Bucky’s missing his clever little face.

And to make matters worse, Louis went to Lollapalooza for the weekend, and his flight back from Chicago won’t arrive until nearly the middle of the night. Louis had invited him along, of course, and when Bucky declined, Louis had offered not to go at all. But Bucky didn’t want to keep Louis from doing fun things with his friends, although he can’t begin to imagine what would be fun about listening to loud music while surrounded by a bunch of drunk strangers for three days straight. Louis seems to be having a good time, though. Doesn’t make Bucky miss him any less.

After his run, Bucky heads over to the training room that he set up in what used to be the guest house. He kicks around a punching bag for a while, and then he straps his left arm to his chest with a makeshift sling and does some agility training with his right arm until his muscles are screaming. He stands in the shower for a long time after, letting the water run hot and lazy over his body, waiting for his muscles to loosen. And most of them do, but everything around his left shoulder girdle is still angry and seized up, and there isn’t really anything he can do but go about his day and wait for Louis to come home.

So he reads his books, and he tends to his garden, and he rehangs the bathroom door that’s been sticking lately, and he deep cleans the kitchen. He facetimes with Peter and his fiancée -- so much better than texting, why didn’t anyone ever tell him? The two of them are planning to see the Grand Canyon in early fall, and they want to stop by and visit with Bucky and Louis while they’re almost all the way to the west coast anyway, and Bucky wants that, too.

He’s just trying to decide what to make for dinner when he hears a car pull up to the house. There shouldn’t be a car here; Louis isn’t due home for another six or so hours, and they live in a gated neighborhood. He eyes the knife block on the counter consideringly, and then he gets a text message from Louis.

Its just me darling don’t shoot :)

Bucky hurries to the front of the house and peeks out the windows by the door, and yes, there’s Louis getting out of a car and thanking the driver and then hitching his backpack up onto his shoulders and walking towards the house.

Bucky pulls the door open and rushes out to meet him. Louis grins when he sees Bucky and runs right for him, leaping at him when he gets close enough, and Bucky neatly catches him with one arm, exhaling shakily as Louis wraps him up in his arms and legs. Louis smells like the airport, like beer, like cigarette smoke and faintly like weed, but he’s here. Louis’ home.

“Hiya,” Louis murmurs. He cradles Bucky’s face in his hands, and Bucky’s sure he must have the dopiest smile on his face right now. “Did you miss me then?”

“Of course I did,” Bucky says softly as he starts walking them back to the house. “Thought you weren’t coming home until late.”

“Guess I missed you, too,” Louis says, ducking his head. “I found an earlier flight and figured I’d surprise you. Were you surprised?”

“I was very surprised,” Bucky says, carrying Louis over the threshold and depositing him cleanly on his feet. “Your warning was just in time, by the way. I was already trying to decide which kitchen knife to grab.”

“Really, a knife?” Louis muses, closing the door after them and dropping his backpack on the ground. “Thought you would have gone for a rifle. I don’t like the idea of you fighting close-up. What’s the point of you being a sniper if I have to worry about you in hand-to-hand combat?”

“I wasn’t going to stab anyone close up unless I had to,” Bucky protests. “I can throw a knife really far. Could’ve hit you without even leaving the house.”

“Good,” Louis says. “You keep those long-distance skills sharp. I want you as far away from the action as possible.” He looks at Bucky carefully, and his eyes narrow. “Why is your arm weird?”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s all” -- Louis positions his own arm next to his body, stiff and unnatural -- “weird. It’s weird.”

“Just been bothering me today,” Bucky says, and Louis’ face softens.

“So that’s why you were carrying me around with just the one arm. Thought you were being a show-off. I didn’t realize, love.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Bucky says. He didn’t realize he was even holding the arm differently, and he can’t believe Louis even noticed, but of course he did. “Think you can help me stretch it out later?”

“Of course. We can do it right now if you like,” Louis says, even as Bucky can hear his stomach growling.

“No, we can do it later. Right before bed. Help me sleep,” Bucky says. “For now, let’s have dinner, and I want to hear all about how good a time you had and also how much you missed me.”

“Terrible time,” Louis says with a sly grin. “Missed you like mad. Don’t know how I survived, to be honest.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Bucky says. “I hope you had a good time, but I’m real, real glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” Louis says happily. “Do you realize I’ve been home for three entire minutes and you haven’t even kissed me yet?”

“Is that unacceptable?” Bucky asks, stepping closer to place his right hand on Louis’ side, to feel the subtle movements of his ribcage as he breathes.

“Completely unacceptable,” Louis affirms.

Louis closes the distance between them, kissing Bucky sweet and soft until Cliff realizes that Louis is home and comes crashing into the room, running frantically around their legs and pawing at Louis until he gets down on the ground for a quick wrestle. Bucky knows he should get started on dinner, but he stays there for another minute, watching the two of them play. Louis is home, and Bucky’s heart is happy.

*

When HYDRA grafted their metal prosthetic arm onto Bucky’s body, they were just trying to construct a weapon with maximal impact. They weren’t concerned with what the stress of carrying around nearly a hundreds pounds of metal would do to his rotator cuff muscles, or to his gait, or to his spine, or to his psyche. He’s a supersoldier, so his body does its best to repair the damage when it occurs, but when he was the Winter Soldier, there was no time to rest, and he didn’t have the autonomy or willpower to look after himself. So he still has some old stress fractures that never healed right, in areas that didn’t have a good blood supply, areas that fractured again and again, faster than he could heal them. So he carries those pains, dull and curious, deep inside of him.

When Shuri gave him his new arm, she did her best to bolster his existing architecture, integrating the vibranium into his existing bones and muscles, utilizing what remained of his nerves to give him intimate control of his arm. But she was working with a shattered, ragged framework, and the inner workings of his shoulder are a weird patchwork of real and synthetic muscles, real and synthetic bone, real and synthetic nervous tissue. And his current arm is optimized to be as light as possible, to relieve some of the stress on his anatomy, but at the end of the day, it’s still a huge hunk of metal grafted to his body, and it takes a toll on the delicate muscles of his rotator cuff.

It’s the subscap giving him trouble today, which is pretty typical. He can stretch most of the other muscles himself, but it’s tricky for him to get enough overpressure to give his subscap the bone-deep satisfying release that it needs. But Louis helps. Louis always helps.

Bucky is facedown on the bed, his elbow bent and locked into place and his forearm balanced on Louis’ shoulder as Louis stands up and crouches back down again, using the momentum of his movement to push Bucky’s shoulder into end-range external rotation.

“Relax,” Louis is saying, panting. It’s a workout for him, too, lifting the dead weight of the arm, but he insists on helping, and his form gets better each time they do this.

Bucky saw the Google searches on his phone once:

names of shoulder muscles

how to stretch rotator cuff muscles

how do I lift something really heavy if I’m not strong

body mechanics for passive shoulder stretches

how do I make it STOP HURTING HIM

“I’m relaxed,” Bucky says, and he closes his eyes and trusts that Louis will take care of him. And Louis takes him through all the stretches in that position, then flips him over so Bucky’s on his back and Louis can use his body weight and gravity to force the arm down, down, down towards the floor, and it loosens gradually, bit by agoning bit. And Bucky and Louis can both feel the moment that it’s as good as it’s gonna get, and Louis runs his fingers gently over Bucky’s metal, feeling for the catch that unlocks his elbow and gives all the control back to Bucky.

“How’s that feel then?” Louis asks, setting Bucky’s arm back down on the bed.

“Good,” Bucky murmurs. “Thank you.” His whole body feels heavy, like he’s too relaxed to summon the necessary energy to move his limbs. It’s rare that he has the opportunity to unwind this completely, and he blissfully settles down into the feeling of being worn out.

“Glad to hear it,” Louis says. He lays down next to Bucky, his head on the same pillow, his hand lightly resting where Bucky’s metal arm meets his left pec. “Seems like it’s been bothering you more often.”

“That’s what happens when you force a hundred-year-old human body to drag around a heavy-as-fuck metal arm every day for decades,” Bucky says, placing his right hand on top of Louis’, stroking at his wrist bones with his thumb. “Muscles get angry.”

“I don’t want your muscles to be angry,” Louis says. He leans over, plants a small kiss to Bucky’s sternum. His body shifts closer, and Bucky becomes aware that Louis is half-hard, but neither of them mention it. “Is there something they can do to fix it? Can you go for a scan?”

Bucky chuckles to himself, remembering the last time S.H.I.E.L.D. tried something like that. “Do you have any idea how much an MRI machine costs?”

“Not the faintest.”

“Well, if you don’t like being enclosed, and you punch your way out of one in a blind panic and render it so completely inoperable that they can’t even scrap it for parts, it turns out S.H.I.E.L.D. makes you buy them a new one, and you are banned from MRIs for life.”

“Shit,” Louis says softly. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says. He adds belatedly, “Two million, by the way.”

“If you bought them a two million dollar arm-scanning robot, the least they can do is scan your arm for you,” Louis grumbles unhappily.

“It’s okay,” Bucky repeats. He loops his left arm around Louis and pulls him closer, putting his muscles on slack and letting the integrity of the metal do the work of cradling his body. “I didn’t like it, Lou. The arm didn’t like it. I’ll wait until Shuri’s back in town and ask her to take a look. I trust her judgment more than theirs anyway.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Louis says. “Don’t like you being in pain.” His breath is soft and warm on Bucky’s neck, and he’s still hard against Bucky’s hip.

“Why does this turn you on?” Bucky asks. Louis pulls back slightly, a guilty expression on his face, but Bucky tightens his grip, keeps him close. “I’m not upset, I just don’t understand. I’m not even doing anything.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Louis says hesitantly. “You’re just so fit with your shirt off, and I’m mad for you, and I’ve been away for these last few days, and I missed you. Even when my brain knows we’re not doing anything sexual, my body doesn’t always cotton on. My skin likes being near your skin. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says. He thinks for a second, asks himself if there’s any possibility of him mustering the energy to get Louis off tonight, but he knows he doesn’t have it within himself. “You can get off with me if I don’t have to move much. I’m sorry, I just don’t think I can help right now.”

“We don’t have to,” Louis says, and Bucky knows that he means it and is grateful for that. But he wants to. He wants to do this for Louis.

“We could do that thigh thing you wanted to try,” Bucky says, giving Louis’ hand a squeeze. It’s something they’ve discussed a few times, and Louis had been curious about it.

“Yeah? You’re sure?” Louis asks, looking carefully into his eyes, and Bucky nods. “Okay then, give me a minute to grab some supplies.”

“Bring a towel,” Bucky calls after him, lazily kicking the sheets to the foot of the bed. He suspects this is going to get messy. And he’s perfectly content to let Louis rub off on him as much as he likes, but that doesn’t mean he wants to sleep in the wet spot.

Louis walks back into the bedroom a minute later. He’s holding an enormous towel with one hand and an enormous unopened bottle of lube with the other. He tosses the towel to Bucky, who spreads it out on the bed and gets himself situated as he watches Louis unceremoniously shrug out of his clothing and struggle to open the bottle.

“Let me,” Bucky says, and Louis hands it over. Bucky easily breaks the plastic seal and hands it back. “That’s the biggest bottle of lube I’ve ever seen.”

“I wank a lot,” Louis says with a breezy smile. “Seemed economical.”

It’s not the first time Bucky has ever noticed it. Hell, it’s not even the first time today that Bucky’s noticed it. But Christ, Louis is so fucking beautiful when he smiles that it knocks Bucky off his feet every single time.

“C’mere,” Bucky mumbles, and Louis sets the lube on the bedside table and happily curls up into Bucky’s embrace.

“Can I kiss you?” Louis asks, but Bucky’s mouth is already on his before he even finishes speaking. Bucky kisses him soft and sure, because even when he doesn’t want to get off, he almost always wants to kiss Louis.

“Want me to take my shorts off?” Bucky asks a minute later, pulling back to take in Louis’ glassy-eyed stare.

“Dunno if it matters,” Louis says, absently swiping his tongue over his lips. “Whatever makes you comfortable, love.”

Bucky figures that being naked will make for the easiest clean-up later, so he wriggles out of his boxers and drops them onto the floor. Then he rolls onto his side so his back is to Louis.

“Is this how you want me?” he asks. When Louis doesn’t answer, he looks back over his shoulder, and he sees Louis eyeing him, hungry and reverent. Bucky subtly tenses his superficial back muscles so they’re even more pronounced; if Louis wants something to look at, he’ll give him something to look at. “Lou?”

“Fuck,” Louis whispers. “Sorry. I know I should be used to it, but I never am.” He trails a warm finger down Bucky’s spine, and the light touch sparks all of his mechanoreceptors, overloading Bucky’s brain with so much good sensory information that he has to close his eyes.

“You’re fine,” Bucky says softly. He shivers happily as Louis presses open-mouthed kisses to the back of his neck, warm and insistent. “That feels nice.”

“Could eat you right up,” Louis murmurs. “Fuck, you’re so hot. I might not even last long enough to do this.”

“You can,” Bucky encourages him. “C’mon, Lou. Get me ready, and I’ll make it good for you.”

“Shit,” Louis says softly, and Bucky smiles to himself. It’s intoxicating having this much power over Louis. It’s so easy to make Louis come undone, and it’s a spectacular feeling. “Okay, let’s try this.”

Louis pours some of the lube into his hands as Bucky shifts slightly, bending one of his knees to give Louis room to work.

“Too cold?” Louis asks, running one of his slippery hands down the length of Bucky’s inner thigh.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Bucky says. He closes his eyes and lets Louis work.

“Hey,” Louis says as his palm slides over the sensitive skin of Bucky inner thigh. “This is probably a dumb question.”

“Probably,” Bucky agrees, and he grins when Louis groans. “You walked right into that, babe.”

“I’ve taught you well,” Louis says reluctantly. “Maybe too well.”

“What’s your dumb question?”

“It might not be dumb.” Louis pauses, and then he blurts out, “Was your dick always this big, or did it grow when you became a supersoldier?”

“Um.” Bucky doesn’t mind the question, he’s used to Louis’ weird tangents and his insatiable desire to know everything about Bucky, but...that definitely wasn’t what he had expected.

“Sorry,” Louis says hurriedly. “I mean, I still want to know, but I’m sorry. But I still want to know. I mean, it’s fucking massive. That’s the serum, right? Sorry.”

“Well that’s definitely the dumbest question I’ve ever been asked by someone who had his hands between my thighs,” Bucky says, amused. His dick is on the bigger side of average, but it certainly isn’t fucking massive.

“I literally hate you right now,” Louis grumbles, halfheartedly swiping his hand up Bucky’s leg.

“You love me and you love my dick,” Bucky says happily. “And yeah, I guess it got a little bit bigger.”

“A superdick,” Louis muses.

“No,” Bucky says firmly. “No, Louis. We’re not calling it that.”

“We are,” Louis says sagely. “We absolutely are. Hey, did you ever see Captain America’s dick?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says hesitantly. “I didn’t measure it, if that’s what you’re about to ask.”

“Just wondering if his got bigger, too.”

“I guess so,” Bucky says. It’s weird to talk about this with Louis, but he tries to sustain the light, teasing tone of the earlier conversation. “Steve’s was big before, though. Afterwards, he just looked more proportional, I guess.”

“Was his better than mine?” Louis asks.

“By what metric?” Bucky asks warily. This is probably dangerous territory.

“Length, I guess?” Louis says consideringly. “Dunno how many different metrics there are for comparing dicks.”

“I think his was longer, Lou, but yours is still my favorite,” Bucky says, which feels like a safe answer in addition to being true.

“Well, that’s sweet. Mine is my favorite, too,” Louis says cheekily. Bucky groans and swats at him, and Louis laughs delightedly. “Yours is nice enough, though. Never thought I’d be in love with someone who had seen Captain America’s dick up close.”

“Not up close,” Bucky corrects. “Just...it was tight quarters in the army. And don’t call him Captain America. He’s Steve.”

He was Steve.

“Do you miss him?” Louis asks softly.

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky says haltingly. They never talk about this, and this is not the right time to start. “Lou, can we talk about it later?”

“Shit, obviously, yeah.” Louis wipes his hand off on the edge of the towel and presses a lingering kiss to Bucky’s shoulder, and his voice is quiet and low when he speaks next. “I’m sorry, love. Got a bit caught up. Do you still want to do this, or shall we cool off and call it a night then?”

“Let’s do it,” Bucky says, because he still wants to do this for Louis, and he wants something nice to distract him from the ghosts peeking around the corners of his consciousness. But it’s strange, to be lying on his side with his back to Louis, his cheek against the cool pillow, his gaze focused on the wall. It’s strange to be so near to Louis and not be looking at him.

So he rolls to his other side and looks up at Louis, who is looking down at him with uncertainty. And that won’t do. So Bucky reaches for him with both hands, pulls Louis’ face closer so he can reach his mouth and kiss his chewed-up lower lip until he feels Louis moan.

“I love you so much,” Bucky whispers against his mouth. “I want you to use me to feel good, and then let’s go to bed.”

“Okay,” Louis says. From this close, his eyelashes seem so long that it’s inhuman. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. He rolls back over and spreads his legs just a little. “C’mon, babe, let’s go.”

“Okay,” Louis says, and then he crowds right up against Bucky, his hips flush with Bucky’s own, his cock hard and eager between Bucky’s thighs.

“Tell me when,” Bucky murmurs, and he carefully brings his legs closer together and activates his hip adductors to squeeze Louis’ dick, gently at first and then more firmly. Bucky has exquisite control over his muscles; they find ways to make that work for both of them.

“Shit,” Louis breathes out. “Shit, that’s perfect. Can I--?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, swallowing hard. “You better.”

Louis presses his forehead to the back of Bucky’s neck, and Bucky can feel his hot, frantic breath against his skin as Louis works his dick in and out of the tight space between Bucky’s thighs. He hears each gasping inhale and each shuddering exhale, and when Louis clumsily gropes for Bucky’s hip, searching for a handhold, Bucky reaches back and covers Louis’ hand with his own, anchoring the two of them together.

The sensation of Louis’ dick working itself between Bucky’s thighs is a new one. There is an intimacy to these two parts of their bodies meeting in this precise way for the first time, and Bucky will never stop being surprised at how many different ways there are to be close to a person. There is an inquisitiveness to Louis’ early thrusts, like he’s trying to find the best path forward. Like he doesn’t want to intrude. But Bucky’s body acquiesces, and he works his muscles sequentially to help draw Louis in and let him back out. He can do this for Louis. He knows how to do this.

Bucky isn’t sure if this is something that feels sexy to him personally, but he gets why Louis likes it. And it certainly isn’t a bad feeling. He thinks in a different headspace, on a different day, with different emotional preparation, he could like it, too. This is something they can try again, if Louis wants to. The sensory parts of it are neutral, and the knowledge that he is doing something for Louis is positive. He’s so close to Louis right now. They’re so fucking close, and it feels good to give Louis what he wants, and Bucky doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m close,” Louis whispers, and his words are hot where they meet Bucky’s skin. “Shit, you feel amazing.”

“I’ve got you,” Bucky says. He feels for the familiar contours of Louis’ body, moving his palm over Louis’ hip and then up higher to ghost his touch over Louis’ sensitive sides. Louis digs his fingers harder into Bucky’s hip with a whimper.

“Oh god,” Louis gasps as he starts to come. “Oh god, Bucky.”

Louis is barely moving anymore, his hips jerking erratically now and then, but Bucky doesn’t let him go yet, keeping his cock warm and tended to between his careful thighs, even as Louis starts to go soft. Bucky isn’t going to let go until Louis says.

“Oh god,” Louis repeats weakly. “C’mere. Turn over.”

Bucky loosens his legs so Louis’ dick can slip out, and then he gingerly rolls onto his other side. His thighs are slick with lube and Louis’ come, and he doesn’t love how they feel against each other once Louis’ body is gone, but he does love the look on Louis’ face, spacey and sated.

“My beautiful boy,” Bucky says softly, cradling Louis’ face with one hand. Louis’ eyes flutter closed, and he exhales with a small sigh, like this is what he’d been waiting for. “Was that what you needed, babe?”

“S’good,” Louis slurs. “So fucking good, Bucky.”

Bucky kisses him gently, thumbing at Louis’ sharp cheekbones. “Love you. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Louis opens his eyes and blinks at him, and Bucky smiles, presses a small kiss to his forehead, and then he carefully gets out of bed. He was tired before, but the task re-energizes him.

“I’ll be right back,” he reminds Louis, and Louis nods.

It’s normally Louis’ responsibility to get them cleaned up afterwards, especially if Bucky isn’t even getting off. But Louis needs to be taken care of right now, and Bucky is happy to do that. Bucky hops into the shower while it’s still cold and lets the water sluice down over his thighs until he’s clean, and then he carefully dries himself off while he waits for the water to be the perfect temperature for Louis.

He walks back into the room with a damp cloth for Louis, who smiles when he sees him, and Bucky can’t help but smile, too. He sits on the side of the bed and carefully, reverently cleans up Louis’ body. Sometimes, he leaves that for Louis to do on his own. Tonight, Bucky wants to do it himself.

“All good?” Bucky asks when he’s done.

“All good,” Louis echoes sleepily. “Thank you.”

He shifts his hips so Bucky can retrieve the towel, and he waits while Bucky hangs up the towel and the cloth in the shower so they don’t get mildew, and he watches as Bucky steps back into his boxers before getting into bed.

“Is it okay if I sleep naked?” Louis asks, rolling towards Bucky and capturing him with his sneaky arms.

“As long as it’s okay that I don’t,” Bucky says, turning off the light. He blinks against the blackness as Louis sighs softly against his neck.

Like always, Bucky is completely aware of every inch of his own body, perfectly mindful of each place where his skin touches Louis’ skin, and equally aware of the places where Louis’ skin touches his clothing. There is a comfort in the closeness, and Bucky knows that it’s never going to mean the same thing to him that it does to Louis. It just won’t, and they both know that, and it’s not an issue. There’s an ease to this feeling of being accepted, knowing that Louis isn’t waiting for him to change into someone different. That he’s already complete and good enough. They wrought this relationship together from absolutely nothing, and now they’re perfect.

“Stop thinking,” Louis whispers, and his fingers are feather-light against Bucky’s jaw. “Just sleep with me.”

“Okay,” Bucky whispers back, and he squeezes Louis’ hip with his hand, and he sleeps.

*

When Bucky wakes up the next morning, Louis is still sleeping. Their limbs are all tangled up together from the night before, except Louis has somehow managed to wrap all of the blankets around himself, leaving none for Bucky. His body is a warm and solid presence, slumbering next to Bucky with his face tucked down into the pillows. Bucky rolls him gently onto his side until he can see the automatic motions of his nose and mouth, listening for his soft, sleepy breathing.

Most mornings, Bucky would get out of bed, let out Cliff, go for a run, start on breakfast. But today, he doesn’t feel compelled to do any of that. So he lingers, tracing the delicate arc of Louis’ eyebrows with a reverent metal finger. Bucky knows he should leave Louis alone and let him sleep, but sometimes, he’s just so fucking beautiful that he can’t help but touch.

Eventually, Louis blinks up at him, confused and sleepy. When he sees that Bucky is still there, a smile slinks across his face, slow and sweet like honey.

“Good morning,” Louis says, his voice raspy with sleep.

“Good morning.” Bucky’s finger is still on Louis’ face, and he doesn’t move it away. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well,” Louis says with an easy grin, and that’s mostly true. Louis usually sleeps all right with Bucky beside him, and he sleeps spectacularly after he comes.

“I liked that last night,” Bucky says. He didn’t get to tell him before, because Louis was so spacey and sated, but it’s important to tell him today. He leans down, tips their foreheads together so he can see the moment that Louis’ eyes close. “I really liked that.”

“Yeah?” Louis breathes. His eyes are still closed, but he finds Bucky’s lips perfectly anyway to press a soft kiss to them, exhaling quietly against his mouth before he pulls back. “I liked it, too.”

“I thought you did,” Bucky says. “We can do it again when you want to. Let me know.”

“You know,” Louis says, and he pulls back just a little and opens his eyes. “You could do that to me if you wanted to.”

“Maybe,” Bucky says. He doesn’t think he would enjoy it as much as Louis did, but he’s never done it so he can’t be certain. If he does it, then he’ll know for sure. So... maybe.

“Also,” Louis says, and he swallows, and the tip of his pink tongue swipes at the chewed-up part of his lower lip. “Also, if you wanted to. You could fuck me, for real. If you wanted to.”

“Intercourse?” Bucky asks, because sometimes Louis uses words for things that are not the words Bucky would use, and he needs to be sure they’re talking about the same thing before he even starts to process his feelings about it.

“Yeah,” Louis says, screwing up his face a little.

“You don’t like that word,” Bucky says. It’s not the first time he’s noticed Louis’ aversion to him saying it. “Why not?”

“It’s so,” Louis says, gesturing in the air like he’s trying to catch a word just beyond his grasp.

“Clinical?” Bucky suggests. “Sterile?”

“Yes,” Louis says. “Not very passionate-sounding, innit?”

“I don’t know if I’m an especially passionate person, Lou,” Bucky says.

“Oh, but you are, darling,” Louis says softly. “You’re reserved, my love, but you have passion.” Bucky doesn’t know if he quite believes that, but he’s pleased that Louis does. Louis, who is smiling a little although Bucky thinks he looks nervous. “What do you think, then? You could put your... course... inter-side of me. Is that something you’d like to try?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says honestly. He’s wondered about it before, tried to imagine what it would be like. But he knows himself, and he knows he doesn’t need that like everyone else seems to. He’s a little curious, and some part of him is still supremely jealous of everyone else who got to experience that with Louis before Bucky came along, but he’s not sure those are good enough reasons to try it.

“Just something to think about, love,” Louis says. “Just wanted you to know that was an option for you, if you wanted it.”

“Do you want it?” Bucky asks. He’s mostly past worrying about whether or not Louis is satisfied. He knows that Louis loves him and loves their unconventional sex life. But he also knows that sometimes he owes it to Louis to try something new for him.

“I don’t not want it,” Louis says, and he isn’t quite meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Think it might be nice to try it. With you. But I don’t need it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky says. “I’ll think about it, and then we’ll talk about it.”

“Sounds good,” Louis says. He ducks his head and presses a trail of soft kisses along the seam where Bucky’s arm meets his body, and the metal plates tremble at his gentleness. “Now what do you think about doing us a fry-up?”

“I’ll get started while you take a shower,” Bucky says with a smile. “You still smell like sex.”

Louis burrows his warm face into Bucky’s neck and inhales indolently, murmuring, “And you smell like me, you absolute slag. Maybe you should join me in the shower, and then we can both fix up brekkie together.”

“You’ll burn the toast, and I’ll handle everything else?” Bucky asks fondly, ruffling Louis’ hair.

“Exactly,” Louis says. “You know me so well.”

*

Bucky does think about it. Over the next several weeks, he thinks about it, about the other people who have shared Louis’ bed. People he’s loved and people he hasn’t. People who only ever got to know him for one night, who nonetheless experienced something with him that Bucky still hasn’t, over three years into their relationship. It shouldn’t bother him. It mostly doesn’t bother him.

But sometimes, it does bother him.

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asks him one day, and Bucky realizes he’s tuned out in the middle of a conversation.

“Intercourse,” Bucky says bluntly, partially because it’s the truth, partially because he knows it will make Louis roll his eyes, and it does.

“What of it?” Louis asks, his eyes hooded and kind and a little mischievous. “You think you want to fuck me, love?”

“No,” Bucky says with a small frown, and Louis’ face changes instantly. His eyes widen and grow serious, and he sits up a little straighter.

“Sorry,” Louis says quietly. “Didn’t mean to pry. Wouldn’t want to push you into anything you didn’t want.”

“No,” Bucky says again. “No, I didn’t mean that.” He searches for the words, picks them carefully, deliberately. “I… I think I’d like to try that. I think I’d like to try being with you. Like that. But I can’t… I don’t want to call it that, Lou. I don’t like that word for it.”

“You don’t want to call it fucking?” Louis asks softly, and Bucky nods.

“It sounds violent, to me. And I can’t be that to you. I wouldn’t want us to call it that.”

“What would you want to call it?” Louis says. He cards his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair, tucking it behind his ear and then letting it hang loose again. “What word do you like?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admits. “Words have so many nuances, and I just want to be with you.”

“That’s fine,” Louis says, and his voice is quiet, and his face is perfectly serene and comforting again. “We don’t have to call it anything at all.”

“I love you,” Bucky says, and he focuses on the feel of Louis’ fingers, twisting through his hair, a gentle tether. “I think I’d like to try, but I’m nervous. And I don’t know if I’ll know how to make it good for you.”

“Oh, Bucky,” Louis says, and his hand slips back to Bucky’s neck, scratching lightly at his skin. “I’m nervous, too, but not about that. Never about that, love. You make everything good for me.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?” Bucky asks. It’s unexpected, any hint of uncertainty in his brave, confident Louis, who knows what he wants and is so sure and precise in his desires.

“Not really an expert, am I?” Louis looks down, and his eyelashes cast fuzzy shadows over his sharp cheekbones. “Haven’t done it with a bloke more than a few times, have I?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks. “You and Niall.” They were together for a year, and Louis loved him, and Louis loves sex, and surely they were fucking like crazy.

(It’s okay to call it fucking when it’s Niall.)

“What I had with him wasn’t like this,” Louis says carefully. “He traveled so much. Didn’t see him nearly as much as I wanted to. You know I loved him, but it was different. We’d kiss for ages, and we’d suck each other off, but it didn’t go much beyond that. Only a few times, really.”

“I thought--”

“You’re the most,” Louis says softly. “I know we haven’t done that one thing together yet, but I’ve still done more with you than anyone else. It still means the most with you.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Bucky says, even as his own heartbeat is clanging loud in his ears as his body and his brain try to process this revelation. “I’ll be so careful. I’d never hurt you.”

Louis is always the one who leads. Louis is the one he counts on to know what they’re doing. The idea that they could be doing something unfamiliar to the both of them is unexpected and exhilarating and terrifying.

But Bucky can do this. He knows how to do this, how to be the one who comforts and guides and reassures, because Louis has always, always been that person for him, and he’s been so good at it, and all Bucky has to do is be that same person for Louis. And he can do that. For Louis, he can do that.

“We’ll just try it sometime,” Bucky says. “We’ll think about it, and we’ll talk some more, and then we’ll try it. And if we don’t like it, we’ll stop. And if it doesn’t feel right, we’ll stop. And we’ll do it exactly how you like, however it will make you feel good.”

“It’s not supposed to be about me,” Louis protests weakly. “This is for you. I want to make you feel good.”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good,” Bucky says simply, and they both know it’s true, so Louis can’t really argue the point.

“How did I get this lucky?” Louis asks, and he looks at Bucky like he’s seeing him for the first time, like his eyes are trying to catch and memorize each of his features at once.

“How would you want it to be?” Bucky asks. The way Louis looks at him can be a lot to live up to, but Bucky is always going to try. “What would make it good for you? What do you like?”

“Be gentle with me?” Louis asks hesitantly, licking nervously at his lips, and Bucky nods. “And I’d like to get myself ready. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Bucky says. He doesn’t know how to do that anyway, but he could learn, of course he would learn if Louis wanted him to. “Whatever you want.”

“I think I’d want to be on my back,” Louis says, “but I’m not sure. Can I think about it and let you know?”

“Take all the time you need,” Bucky says softly, and he takes Louis’ head in both his hands, framing that beautiful face with one hand of skin and one hand of metal. He can be strong for Louis, and he can be gentle for Louis. Louis has always been the one to encourage these discussions, to suss out Bucky’s boundaries and faithfully stay within them. Bucky only knows how to have these conversations because of Louis, and now it’s his turn to live up to that, to make Louis feel good without making him feel bad, to listen and to understand what Louis needs and to give him exactly that, and only that.

“I love you,” Louis says. “Sorry if I’m making things difficult and being too particular.”

“Never,” Bucky says fervently, and then softer: “Never, Lou.”

“Feels like I’m not being very romantic,” Louis says. “Making all these plans in advance. Think love is supposed to be more spontaneous than that.”

“I like making plans,” Bucky says, and Louis smiles a little. “And we’re still learning how to do this together. I need help. I need you to teach me what you need from me, and then I’ll know for next time. If there is a next time.”

“If you hate it, we’ll stop,” Louis says quickly. “You don’t have to do anything just for me.”

“And if you don’t love it, we’ll stop,” Bucky murmurs. His hands are still on Louis’ face, and he thinks he might never move them again. “I don’t want you enduring anything on my account, waiting for it to get better. If you don’t absolutely love it, we’ll do something you like better.”

“Would you just kiss me already?” Louis demands, but his voice is whispery, and his eyes are so big, a yawning maze of questions and possibilities.

So Bucky leans in close, and he touches his nose to Louis’, nuzzling him briefly and savoring Louis’ surprised huff of breath. And then he tilts his head and apprehends Louis’ lips with his own, sure and confident and unflinchingly in control of this moment. This, he can do. He feels Louis’ shuddering exhalations against his tongue and swallows them down, his hands holding Louis’ head in place as Bucky gives him everything he needs and takes a little for himself, kissing and kissing and fucking loving the sound and the taste and the feel of Louis as he kisses his lips and his tongue and his sharp little teeth.

Louis whimpers and wraps his arms around Bucky, pulling their bodies closer together, like they could crawl inside each other and disappear entirely into the feeling of their mouths desperately trying to forge a connection. Bucky loves this man, loves kissing him, loves loving him, and he tries to communicate all that wordlessly with his mouth and his breath and with the satisfying way their beards scrape against each other as he changes the angle of his head, always searching for the best way in, closer, closer, closer. Hello, hello, it’s me. I’m home. Open up and let me in, my love.

Louis starts shifting his weight, leaning and wriggling until they’re both laid out on the couch, Louis on his back and Bucky on top of him, one hand still on Louis’ cheek to keep him close, holding himself up with his other arm so he doesn’t crush Louis entirely. Louis’ mewling desperately against his mouth as he pushes his hips up, seeking friction. His hand skitters down Bucky’s back, over his hips, and around to his front, and he pauses with one hand gently cupping Bucky’s dick through his jeans.

“Okay?” Louis asks breathlessly, pulling back from Bucky’s mouth for the first time.

“Okay,” Bucky confirms, and he moans softly as Louis’ deft fingers unbutton and unzip his jeans, pushing them down enough for Louis to get a hand around him. “Not… not the thing we haven’t finished discussing yet,” he clarifies haltingly, and Louis hums in agreement. “But other stuff. Let’s do other stuff.”

“Brilliant,” Louis whispers. “I love other stuff. I’ve got you, darling.” He works his hand firmly over Bucky while Bucky kisses down the length of his neck. It still takes Bucky longer to get going than Louis, so Louis tends to get him started early, and it’s working, fuck, it’s working.

“You feel good,” Bucky says, his heart beating so loud he thinks he might be shaking the couch.

“But you’re barely feeling me at all,” Louis teases. “Feel me.”

“Okay,” Bucky says shakily, and he rolls them gently onto their sides so he can get his hands on Louis for real. He pushes Louis’ shirt up his torso, exposing his soft, pale skin inch by inch. Bucky generally prefers to leave most of his clothing on, but Louis loves getting naked as soon as possible, and Bucky is happy to help. Louis releases his grip on Bucky just long enough to get his arms free of his shirt, and then he’s back, holding Bucky tighter than before, doing something devilish with his wrist that has Bucky shuddering, tucking his face into Louis’ shoulder and panting out his desire.

“There you go,” Louis murmurs encouragingly. “Get nice and hard for me, love. Let me make you feel good.”

“Thought I was supposed to be feeling you,” Bucky mumbles into Louis’ shoulder. Louis shivers a bit from the tickle of his breath, and Bucky leans into that, kissing the warm skin he finds beneath his lips and slowly working his way to Louis’ neck. He noses behind Louis’ ear and inhales, breathing in the familiar combination of cigarette smoke and sweat and hair product. Louis, his amygdala helpfully supplies for him. This smells like Louis.

“Feel me all you like,” Louis says. His wrist stutters in its rhythm, and he weakly says, “Oh, fuck,” as Bucky locates the pulse point of his carotid artery and sucks lightly.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky says, and Louis’ eyes fall closed, and his fingers relax so that Bucky’s dick slips free from his grasp. He’s hard now, and they’ll get back to him later, but for now, Bucky’s going to take care of Louis.

Bucky works his way down Louis’ torso with his mouth, visiting all of Louis’ favorite spots and some of his own. He likes sliding his lips along the shelf of Louis’ clavicles, mapping out the anatomy of his delicate bones with the slightest graze of his teeth. He tongues at Louis’ nipples, so small and sensitive that Louis’ practically vibrating just from the feel of Bucky’s warm breath. He presses one soft kiss to the place where he feels Louis’ heart beating, and then he leaves his metal hand there as he moves lower. Bucky likes to monitor Louis’ heart rate, to see what speeds it up and what keeps it steady, and each time Louis’ ventricles contract, the rush of blood thuds solidly inside Bucky’s own skeleton.

“C’mon,” Bucky says. He kisses the soft skin low on Louis’ stomach, then tongues at the sparse, dark hair beneath his bellybutton. He moves just a little lower, and then he’s on fabric, his head cushioned in the supple concavity of Louis’ pelvis, his lips just grazing the swell of Louis’ hard cock through layers and layers of soft cotton. He teases the tips of his fingers inside Louis’ waistband as he says, “Let’s get you naked.”

Louis whines then, breathing hard through his nose as he reacts instantly, pushing his sweatpants and boxers down in one swift movement that has his dick springing free to lightly tap Bucky on the cheek. Bucky blinks in surprise.

“Sorry,” Louis pants. “Sorry, sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Bucky says, swiping a thumb over the damp spot on his cheek and brushing it away. “Just caught me off guard.” He sucks a gentle kiss to the base of Louis’ dick, and Louis groans brokenly. “I like how eager you are for me.”

“Fuckin’ desperate for you,” Louis says breathlessly, threading his fingers into Bucky’s hair and scratching at his scalp. “Want you all the time.”

Louis can’t have Bucky all the time. Bucky can’t give him that much. But he can give him this, now. So Bucky anchors Louis’ hips with his right hand and brushes his closed lips up and down over the length of Louis’ dick until he’s cursing.

“Can you just--?” Louis whispers, reaching for himself with a shaking hand, and Bucky nods and lets Louis feed his dick into his mouth. Louis’ head instantly falls back to the arm of the couch with a loud groan, and his hips push up into Bucky’s firm grip. Bucky delicately swirls his tongue around the head of Louis’ cock until his muscles are so tense that Bucky can feel him twitching from how hard he’s trying not to move, and then it’s time to get to work.

Even Bucky doesn’t know how long he can hold his breath. S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to time it with some questionably invasive techniques, but Bucky always pretended to fail after two minutes, because he doesn’t want the government to know all of his limits. Louis tried timing it as well, but they both got bored after five minutes and gave up. So the best Bucky knows is that he can hold his breath for at least five minutes. And once Bucky gets his mouth on Louis, five minutes is usually more than enough.

There is something extremely satisfying about being able to take Louis apart using just his mouth. Bucky was optimized and trained to be a weapon of death and misery, and instead, he can take what he was left with and use it to be an agent of pleasure. An entirely different kind of asset. He was very good at that, but he thinks he’s very good at this, too, if the way Louis is thrashing under him and gasping his name is any indication.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis is chanting as his hips start bucking with more abandon, and Bucky loosens his grip to let him move; Bucky can keep up. He makes his tongue soft and pliant as he teasingly drags his lips up Louis’ shaft, and Louis tightens his fingers in Bucky’s hair for a moment, pulling a little harder than usual.

Louis winces and pets at Bucky’s scalp, saying, “Fuck, I’m sorry, sorry, oh god,” but Bucky shrugs it off and rocks his hips experimentally against Louis’ knee to give his own cock a little friction. He likes when Louis loses control. He likes that he can make Louis feel so good that he stops being careful and just feels everything Bucky is giving for him to feel. Making Louis feel good feels good for both of them.

And in that spirit, Bucky lets go of Louis’ hips entirely and accepts Louis’ dick as he thrusts up suddenly, all the way down his throat until the tip of Bucky’s nose is touching the sweaty skin of Louis’ stomach. And he’s relentless now, and he anticipates and follows each jerk of Louis’ body and doesn’t give him any relief from the constant indulgent suction he’s offering with his mouth.

“Shit,” Louis says with a wrecked voice, his hips jostling madly as Bucky hums around him. Louis’ right hand is still roughly tangled in Bucky’s hair, and Bucky searches blindly for his left hand, eventually finding it digging into the couch cushion, which isn’t where Bucky wants it. He moves Louis’ hand towards his head, and Louis catches on and grabs at Bucky desperately.

“I’m gonna--” Louis starts, and Bucky sinks down infinitesimally more, nuzzling into the soft skin above Louis’ pubic bone. Louis lets out a yelp, and his hips stutter in their frantic rhythm as he holds Bucky’s head in place and uses his mouth and throat to finally start coming. Good. Good. He doesn’t want Louis holding on to any bit of anything that isn’t him. He wants Louis to give him absolutely everything, and he’s going to take every last scrap of it.

He stays there as long as Louis will let him, head cradled by Louis’ hips, Louis’ fingers still idly twisting through his hair. Bucky keeps his tongue tender and fluid in his mouth, gently soothing Louis’ dick as it twitches feverishly. He breathes in through his nose. Louis smells different when he’s down here, mostly just like sweat and come, but his brain still knows that this is his Louis. Only Louis has ever smelled like this to him, and so it smells like coming home.

“Get up here,” Louis says eventually with a scratchy voice. Bucky finally relinquishes Louis’ cock and languidly crawls up his body, letting his hands explore the familiar terrain of Louis’ frame with his lips happily following. When he reaches Louis’ face, Bucky notes how dry and chapped his lips are, and he kisses him gently, pressing his tongue lightly to the worst of the damage. Louis whimpers, and when Bucky pulls back, he can see the places near Louis’ eyes that are wet. Louis cries sometimes when he comes hard enough, and Bucky touches his tongue there, too. He wants it all. He’s going to taste every last bit Louis will let him have.

“Fucking love you,” Louis whispers. “Do you want me to take care of you now, darling?”

Bucky nods, and he lets Louis shuffle them around until Bucky is on his back and Louis is curled up by his side. From this position, Louis can kiss Bucky while he pulls him off, which they both know is what Bucky likes best.

“It’s your turn,” Louis murmurs, snaking a clever hand around Bucky’s throbbing cock, and Bucky closes his eyes and shudders. Louis presses hot kisses to Bucky’s throat, pulling back now and then to tell him, “You made me feel so good, babe. You did so good.”

“Kiss me,” Bucky says shakily, thrusting erratically into the cunning grip of Louis’ fist.

“I am kissing you,” Louis whispers to his jaw, but he obliges, kissing Bucky’s trembling lips and sucking down his breath and breathing back out his adoring compliments until Bucky is on the verge.

“I’ve got you,” Louis says then, and Bucky knows, because Louis’ always got him, his good, beautiful, perfect Louis who is sliding down his body and keeping his hand moving feverishly while he suckles on just the head of Bucky’s cock, and all of Bucky’s focus goes into keeping his hips perfectly still, so there’s no part of him left over to control anything else, and when Louis lovingly strokes his tongue against the underside of Bucky’s dick, he lets go, he lets go, he lets Louis take control and Bucky lets go.

“Shit,” Bucky says a minute later, when his throat starts working again. He looks down at Louis. His head is resting on Bucky’s stomach, and his eyes are closed, and there’s a peaceful, satisfied look on his face that mirrors Bucky’s own feelings right now.

This man. This selfless, generous man who crawled under his skin and made a home and isn’t ever going to leave from the looks of it. Bucky loves him so fucking much.

“C’mere,” Bucky says thickly, running his thumb along the shell of Louis’ ear. “Get up here. I have to tell you something”

“I’m coming,” Louis murmurs, blinking his eyes open as he slinks back up Bucky’s body. “Well, I already came. But here I am.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Bucky mutters, his metal hand delicately cradling the base of Louis’ skull, positioning him so that they can look into each other’s eyes. “Do you know that? Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Think you might have mentioned it once or twice,” Louis says with a pleased smile. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks sweet and sated and happy, and Bucky is going to make sure he always stays that way.

“I love you,” he insists. “Tell me that you know.”

“I know,” Louis says, his eyes soft and deep. “Love, I know.”

Louis leans in and kisses Bucky so exquisitely gently, just a breeze over his lips. He kisses Bucky’s jaw and neck and the soft, vulnerable skin of his throat. The shortest distance between two points is a line, but Louis never seems interested in shortcuts. His pathway is lackadaisical, adventurous. His mouth wanders curiously over Bucky’s skin as he explores the caverns and peaks of his anatomy, unhurriedly crossing the border from skin to metal. He kisses each plate that he encounters, deliberate, possessive, pious. He presses his open mouth to the star at the center of the shield emblazoned on Bucky’s upper arm, and then he pauses.

“You can ask,” Bucky says softly. “I know you want to ask.”

“I’m curious,” Louis says, his breath tickling the metal. “But I don’t want to be selfish if you’re not comfortable talking about it.”

“I’ll tell you anything,” Bucky says.

“You don’t have to,” Louis insists.

“Just ask,” Bucky says, even as his heart starts to beat faster. He knows Louis can feel it, but it doesn’t change anything. He doesn’t have a lot of hidden pieces left to offer, but if Louis finds any, he can have them. He can have every last bit of Bucky if he wants it.

“You said once,” Louis says hesitantly, “that you had loved a man before, years ago, but it wasn’t okay.”

“Did I say that?” Bucky knows they’ve never talked about this. He can’t remember saying that.

“Our first date,” Louis says. “I asked about the men you’d loved and left.”

“I suppose you did,” Bucky muses. “I...I did love someone.”

“Was it him?” Louis asks softly, pressing his thumb to the white star in the middle of the blue and red shield, and Bucky’s arm shudders from the sting of it. It doesn’t feel good, but it’s not supposed to.

“Sure,” Bucky whispers. “Sure, I loved Steve, I guess. Didn’t know that’s what it was at the time, but that’s what it felt like when I looked back after.”

“Did you ever tell him?”

“Couldn’t,” Bucky says, looking at nothing in particular. “He didn’t feel the same way. I don’t think so, anyway. And it wasn’t okay then. It really wasn’t.”

“What about after? You both came back, and it’s more okay now. You’re okay with it now.”

When Bucky stopped being the Winter Soldier and started being something else entirely, something nebulous and broken and always in repair, the memories started coming back. And so many of those memories were Steve. He remembered Steve as a kid, the two of them playing in the street or building forts from couch cushions. He remembered them getting older, when the sight of Steve’s translucent skin filled him with a confusing mix of fierce protectiveness and perilous desire. He loved Steve. He wanted to keep him safe, always. He wanted to devour him, eat up all his goodness and brashness and heart and skin and bones. He loved him easy and automatic as breathing, and like breathing, he wasn’t even aware of it until it stopped and he thought it might kill him.

But not all of the recovered memories were Steve. Some of them were just about Sergeant Bucky Barnes, a man he used to be who died in the forties and was reincarnated into a different person. He can remember that Bucky, but he isn’t that same man. A ghost can’t go back into its body once it dies. That Bucky disappeared forever, and now he’s someone different. And when they met again, decades later, Steve was someone different, too.

“We came back different,” Bucky says carefully. “He wasn’t the same guy I loved, and I wasn’t the same guy who loved him. Maybe everyone only gets the one love of their life, and it’s just...I’ve had two lives, Lou. I’m not the same person who loved him. I can feel those memories shallowly, like I can roll ‘em around in my hand and tell you the size and shape of them, but I don’t feel them inside me. I’m wired different. I only feel you in me now.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says quietly. “I’m sorry you lost him without ever getting to have him.”

“I lost a friend,” Bucky says. “When I lost Steve for good, I lost…. I don’t know if most people get to have friends like that, but I guess most people don’t travel through decades and find out that only one person they ever cared about is still around. We were the same as each other, in some ways. And I lost that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Louis whispers.

“But I think, in some ways, I lost him as soon as I changed. They made me into their enforcer, and I lost the part of me that loved him that way. It’s been gone a long time, Louis. I lost a friend, but the Bucky who lost his love has been gone for decades now.”

“You can tell me about him,” Louis says. “You don’t have to. But if you ever want to, you can tell me. Sometimes it’s just nice to remember the people we lost. Sometimes you just want to share it all. Makes it feel real if someone else knows. If you keep it to yourself, it starts to feel like something you made up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky deadpans. “I’ve never questioned the integrity of my memories for a single moment of my life.”

“Ah yes,” Louis says with a small smile. “Mind like a steel-trap, darling.”

“More like a colander sometimes,” Bucky grumbles, and then he grows serious. “I know, by the way. I know I can talk to you, and I will. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me.”

“I have some idea,” Louis says with the hint of a smile. “It’s been three years, love. I’ve been paying attention.”

“I love you,” Bucky says, and he tightens his arms around Louis, lets his cheek rest against the top of his head.

“Love you, too,” Louis says, settling down into Bucky’s embrace and closing his eyes. “Love you like mad.”

They’re both a little sticky and sweaty, and this position on the couch is murder on Bucky’s back, but he’s not ready to move yet. He wants to stay here in this moment with Louis for just a bit longer.

*

The next day, Bucky gets a text from Louis while he’s out weeding the garden.

Tonight? is all it says.

Bucky’s heart starts racing as he replies with a thumbs up emoji. He knows what Louis is asking, and he wants it. He does. And he thinks now will be as good a time as any. But that doesn’t mean he knows what to expect. So he keeps on weeding, and when he’s all done, he leans back on his elbows and tilts his face up to the sun and he just sits there and thinks about all his concerns and all his worst case scenarios, and he lists them from most to least likely to occur, and he tries to come up with counter-arguments, and he sits there and thinks and thinks and worries and reassures himself until he hears Louis’ car pull up.

He walks back into the house, rubbing his hands together self-consciously. He’s all grimy from being in the garden. He should have showered before Louis got back. Louis is standing by the kitchen table, looking small and vulnerable inside one of his particularly enormous Winter Soldier hoodies, and he’s clutching a few shopping bags tightly in his grip.

“It’s awfully warm out for that hoodie,” Bucky says, reaching over to tug on one of the drawstrings.

“I know,” Louis says with a distracted smile. “But I like it.”

“What did you get?” Bucky asks, gesturing to the bags, and Louis shifts a minute muscle in his jaw.

“Just some supplies.”

“Do you want to show me?”

Louis considers for a moment, then nods abruptly.

“C’mon, let’s go sit down,” Bucky says softly, putting a cautious hand on Louis’ elbow and guiding him into the next room. Louis is acting skittish and weird, and Bucky doesn’t like that. He wants Louis sitting somewhere soft, pressed up right against his side, slowly relaxing and letting go of all this strange tension.

Louis sinks down into the couch and puts his bags on the other side of his body, away from Bucky, like his own body is forming a protective wall between Bucky and whatever he bought. He shrugs out of his hoodie and almost immediately breathes a sigh of relief.

“You were right,” he says. “Too hot. C’mere, sit with me then.”

Bucky sits, leaving a small gap between them, giving Louis the option of closing it. He doesn’t, but he does reach over and place his hand on Bucky’s knee, giving it a good squeeze, stroking his thumb along the site of Bucky’s IT band attachment. Bucky doesn’t say anything. He can wait out Louis’ self-soothing.

“Okay,” Louis says after a while. He reaches for the smallest bag and pulls out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. They already have lube, Bucky knows they have enough to get them through the rest of the year, if not the rest of the decade, but this is a different brand with a fancy-looking label. Condoms are new for them, though. It didn’t even occur to Bucky that they might need them. He doesn’t have any first-hand experience with them, and everything he’s gleaned from modern culture indicates that men generally don’t like using them.

“We don’t have to use those, you know,” Bucky says carefully, just in case Louis doesn’t remember. “I don’t have anything. I can’t transmit anything or catch anything.”

“Oh. Yeah, I--” Louis wrings his hands for a moment and doesn’t look at anything. “Sorry, yeah, if you’d rather. I just...sorry. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t make any difference to me,” Bucky says, placing his own hand over Louis’ to stop their anxious twitching. “We can if you prefer to. I just didn’t want you to think you had to, for me.”

“I’d rather use them,” Louis says, looking down at his hands in Bucky’s. “How it feels. I don’t like. I don’t like how it feels after. In me.”

“Then we’ll use them,” Bucky says, giving Louis’ hands a squeeze. Louis is so out of sorts, and Bucky’s own inability to fix it is starting to make him anxious. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. You can just tell me what you want, and that’s good enough.”

“Okay,” Louis says quietly with a tight smile. “I know. I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

He reaches into a different bag and pulls out a new package of bedsheets. Then, an enormous plush towel, deep navy blue and the softest, most luxurious thing Bucky’s ever felt when he touches it. He likes this for them. This is appropriate. This is the manner in which Louis ought to be attended to.

Louis hesitantly reaches into the last bag, and then he pulls out two decorative candles. There has never, in the entire time that Bucky has lived here, been a single candle inside their home. Now there are two. They are thick pillar candles, red and glossy, and they smell like caramel apples.

And all at once, Bucky remembers Louis’ first request when they were planning this.

Be gentle with me?

With a sudden certainty, Bucky realizes that Louis wasn’t just asking for a soft touch, for a physical gentleness. He thinks now that Louis was asking for something different. For Bucky to be careful with his emotions and his vulnerability. For permission to want something romantic. Be gentle with me. Don’t tease me if I want this to be special.

“I like them,” Bucky says. “I like all of it. You got great stuff, babe.”

“Yeah? Shit. I don’t” -- he shakes his head fiercely -- “I don’t understand how I can be so nervous to do something I genuinely want to do.”

“Do you genuinely want to?” Bucky asks softly. “I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I do,” Louis says. “I want to know what it feels like. With you. I want that. Dunno why I’m making such a big deal of it all. Don’t like feeling vulnerable, I suppose.”

“You’re not vulnerable,” Bucky says, squeezing his hand tight. “You won’t be. I won’t see you that way. That’s not who we are.” He thinks back on comments Louis has made, about gentleness, about the condoms, about Niall. “Was it not… did you not like it with Niall?”

“Dunno,” Louis says, looking at his hand in Bucky’s. “Thought I’d like it more, maybe. Like with girls, I liked that a lot.” He chuckles wryly. “Thought I’d like this more, too. It was fine. Wasn’t bad, it was just...fine.”

“Are you going to leave me for a girl?” Bucky asks, and he’s almost entirely joking.

“Course not,” Louis says, and he finally looks right at Bucky. “Of course not, darling. Even if it ends up being absolute rubbish, I’m still yours.”

“What if I don’t like it?” Bucky asks. “What if you love it, and I never want to do it again, and I can never be that for you?”

“I’m still yours,” Louis repeats, touching his fingertips to Bucky’s jaw, “and you’re still mine.”

“You love sex,” Bucky says, and he’s hit so suddenly with a wave of uncertainty, like he hasn’t experienced with Louis in years. “You love it, and I already give you so little of it.”

“I like sex,” Louis corrects him, pressing his index finger to the dimple in Bucky’s chin. “I like sex, but I love you. And you give me everything.”

“But--”

“No,” Louis says softly. “No, darling. I’m telling you something, and I need for you to hear it and to trust me. C’mon, you know almost all of my relationships before you were long distance. I sometimes went months without sex for them.”

“I know.”

“Months for them,” Louis says, steadily looking into his eyes. “I’d go the rest of my life if that’s what you needed. I honestly mean that.”

“I know,” Bucky whispers. He does, but hearing Louis say it out loud so plainly is overwhelming, a declaration of a love so big that they’re still trying to figure out the whole scope of it. “Why are we both being so stupid about this?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Louis scoots closer, finally, gets his whole body lined up next to Bucky’s. His head is heavy and perfect on Bucky’s shoulder, and their breaths fall into easy synchronicity. “It’s just us. We’re getting all in a tizzy about it, but it’s just us.”

“How about we wash our new sheets,” Bucky suggests, pressing his cheek to the top of Louis’ head. “Get them smelling like ours. And then I really need to take a shower.”

“You really do,” Louis says, kissing Bucky’s collarbone. “You smell awful.”

Bucky growls teasingly, and he feels Louis’ mouth smile against his skin, and he smiles, too. It should be easy. It’s them. He has to remember that.

“Go wash up, love,” Louis says, regretfully pulling away to stand up. “I’ll get started on the sheets.”

“Love you,” Bucky says, watching him leave the room.

“Love you,” Louis calls back over his shoulder, his arms full of sheets. “You smell like a farm full of animal shit, but god help me, I love you.”

*

And so Bucky showers in warm, warm water. And he cleans himself thoroughly, methodically, so that he knows he’s his best. And the water feels so good, and he likes to know that he’s clean and perfect for Louis, his Louis who loves him always, even when he’s dirty and scruffy and rough around the edges.

And he wonders what his body will feel like to Louis. And so he closes his eyes and lets the water beat down warm on his back, and he touches himself curiously. He touches the plane of his neck and the expanse of his shoulders with tentative fingertips. He runs his palms down his chest, slow, so he can feel the rise and fall of his torso as he breathes, and then he holds his own hips from the front. His grip is strong and sure, and he loosens it slightly; Louis wouldn’t hold him so tight. He runs his thumb along his own eyebrow like Louis does sometimes, and he gently touches his own jaw. He is geometry. He is so many shapes.

And then he takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, and he uses his right hand to explore his left arm.

The metal is warm from being in the shower. Not hot, it can’t absorb enough heat for that, but it feels flushed, like there is blood coursing through it. It is not soft, no matter how often Louis tries to insist that it is. It’s metal. It’s blunt and shiny and heavy. Bucky can make it be delicate, but it’s not delicate on its own. It’s not anything on its own. It’s Bucky’s arm, and anything good or warm or delicate that comes from it is just from Bucky.

Bucky presses his thumb to his lower lip, places it there gently at first and then steadily adds more pressure. And that simple touch, more than any of the others, triggers something in him. That’s how Louis touches him. That’s how no one else has ever touched him. So he turns the water off, wraps a towel around his waist, and goes to find Louis.

Louis is in their room, struggling to make the bed by himself. Bucky silently falls into position on the opposite end of the bed and helps him straighten out the sheets, and Louis smiles gratefully.

“Cheers,” he says breathlessly when they finish. “You should dry your hair whilst I nip into the shower. You’re dripping all over the bed, love.”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, although he suspects Louis doesn’t actually mind.

“Give me a kiss for luck,” Louis says, crawling across the bed and going up on his knees so he’s just about Bucky’s height.

“What do you need luck for?”

“Suppose I don’t,” Louis says. He places his palms on Bucky’s sides, and his hands are soft and warm against Bucky’s bare skin. “Give us a kiss anyway? Because I want one?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, and he ducks his head and kisses Louis the best he can. Louis whimpers helplessly into his mouth, and his fingers curl against Bucky’s sides.

“Okay,” Louis whispers, pulling back after a minute. “Okay, you’ve got me head all dizzy. I’m going to shower, and you’re going to dry that gorgeous hair so I have something to hold onto, yeah?”

Bucky nods, and Louis grins brightly. He hops down off the bed and saunters across the room. Just before he reaches the bathroom, he looks at Bucky over his shoulder and wriggles out of his shirt. He swings the shirt around like a lasso a few times and then chucks it at Bucky, quickly disappearing into the bathroom.

“Just a taste of what you’ll be getting!” he calls from behind the closed door, and Bucky looks down at the shirt in his hands and laughs so hard he has to sit down.

*

“It’s...big,” Louis says, scowling down at Bucky’s dick like it’s done something to offend him.

“Sorry?” Bucky ventures. He’s lying on his back, Louis curled up next to him. They’re both washed and dried and naked, and the room lights are dim, and there are caramel apple candles burning away on the bedside table.

“Don’t be sorry, just be smaller,” Louis grumbles, poking at Bucky’s dick with an affronted finger.

“Too big?” Bucky asks, grabbing Louis’ wrist before he can poke him any more. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Louis says. “I’m just being dramatic. I can take it.”

“But if you can’t--”

“I can,” Louis says, sounding offended. “I, uh. I practiced.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I practiced,” Louis says, blushing. He scoots back and disappears under the bed for a moment. When he emerges, he’s holding...

Well.

“See,” Louis says, clearly trying to keep his composure even though his cheeks are flaming red. He places the toy against Bucky’s hip. It’s a fake dick, exactly the size and shape of Bucky’s own, except made out of silicone, and bright teal.

“Where were you hiding that?” Bucky manages to ask after a stunned minute.

“There’s literally a box under the bed that says ‘sex toys,’” Louis says with a frown. “What did you think was in there?”

“Wasn’t sure,” Bucky says. “Just figured it was something you didn’t want me poking around in.”

“You’re a terrible spy,” Louis says, pointing the dick at Bucky accusingly.

“I’m not a spy,” Bucky says. “I’m a reformed assassin. It’s totally different. Stop pointing that at me.”

“Just saying that I can take your supersoldier-sized dick, so stop worrying that you’re going to hurt me. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“When did you even get that?” Bucky asks. There’s something fascinating about seeing it there in Louis’ hand. It’s teal, for fuck’s sake.

“First time I saw yours,” Louis says. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but things were heating up between us, and I supposed I ought to know if it was even possible.”

“That’s been hiding under our bed for like three years then?”

“Two and a half, maybe,” Louis says. “Used it the once back then, just to see if it even fit. Then not again until like a week ago.”

“Was I home?”

“Of course you weren’t home. You barely leave me alone long enough to have a wee. When was I going to have time to work that into me when you were here? You were at the farm.”

“You’re something else,” Bucky says, slightly awed. “You’re a much better spy than I ever was.”

“I’m good at loads of things,” Louis reminds him. “Can I put this away now, or would you like to interrogate it directly?”

Bucky snatches the dick from Louis’ hand, speaking into it like a microphone, “What’s it like being inside Louis Tomlinson?” and Louis falls onto his side laughing, and Bucky allows himself a chuckle, too. This is ridiculous. This is so ridiculous, and he loves every second of it.

“Gimme that thing and I’ll let you find out,” Louis says, eyes shining. Bucky hands over the toy, and Louis haphazardly chucks it back under the bed. “Right. Now I’m going to play with your cock a little, if that’s okay. Get you all warmed up. And then I’m going to get myself ready in the loo, and you’re going to do your very best to stay hard for me, and then when I come back in, we’ll see where we are.”

“I might not be able to,” Bucky says as Louis sidles up to him. He’s not very good at staying hard without direct encouragement from Louis.

“I know,” Louis says. “It’s okay.” He rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder and lets his hand meander down until he’s just stroking his fingertips against the side of Bucky’s cock.

Bucky doesn’t normally care for teasing the same way that Louis does, but something about this gentle, almost casual touch is maddening in a good way. He has perfect control of his muscles, almost every last one of them, but Louis undoes his resolve with each unpredictable brush of his fingers, and Bucky’s hips jerk without him telling them to.

“Do you want me to suck it a little, babe?” Louis murmurs, circling his thumb over the head of Bucky’s dick. “Do you think that would help?”

“Don’t think it would hurt,” Bucky says, blinking hard as he tries to focus on the ceiling. The air is thick and hazy with anticipation. Everything feels heightened, charged, different.

“Then let’s give it a go,” Louis says, and he slithers down Bucky’s body, and just the friction of their skin against each other has Bucky’s breath ragged. “I’ve got you, love.”

I’ve got you.

They say it to each other constantly. It means: your turn. It means: don’t worry about me, and just let me worry about you. It means: I’m here, and you’re safe, and I’m going to take care of you.

“You’ve got me,” Bucky confirms breathlessly as Louis nuzzles his way between Bucky’s thighs. Normally, Bucky would feel the scratch of Louis’ beard on his sensitive skin, but Louis shaved before he went out today, and Bucky realizes that Louis knew. He woke up this morning, and he decided that today was the day, and he shaved because he knew. And now they’re here.

“You’re being so responsive,” Louis says, breathing right against Bucky’s cock, warm and teasing. “Normally have to work harder for this, but you’re so easy tonight. Being so good for me. Giving me exactly what I want.”

“Give you everything you want,” Bucky agrees, and his words disappear into a moan as Louis finally gets a firm hand around him and licks delicately at the crown of his dick. “Shit, Louis.”

“Shh,” Louis says, and the sound vibrates in Bucky’s bloodstream. “I’m busy, love. Got very important work to do here.”

Bucky nods for longer than is necessary, considering Louis isn’t even looking up at him, and Louis easily settles into a comfortable rhythm on Bucky’s dick, never taking him too deep as he teases Bucky’s skin with his clever tongue. Bucky fits his right hand into Louis’ hair, not rushing him, not guiding him, just brushing the messy hair from his eyes and stroking his grateful fingertips along Louis’ hairline.

“Okay,” Bucky says after a bit. He never gets this worked up this fast, but there’s been a tricky sort of alchemy brewing in his veins all day, and he’s getting too close. “You gotta stop if you don’t want me to come yet, babe.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, popping off of Bucky’s dick with a pleased smile.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms with a shaky sigh as Louis absently continues to jerk Bucky off with his hand, and Bucky clamps his metal hand over Louis’ wrist to stop him. “My compliments to the artist.”

“Cheers,” Louis says, beaming up at him. He kisses Bucky’s metal wrist, and they both relax their grip. “Now, what are you going to do for me?”

“I’m going to stay here and wait, and I’m going to try to stay hard.”

“Show me how you’re going to touch yourself,” Louis says, scooting back off the bed and walking backwards towards the bathroom.

Bucky fists his own dick, his grip just this side of too tight. He never jerks off, he just...never needs to, but he knows the gist, and Louis nods approvingly.

“You’re not doing it for you,” Louis says softly. “It’s okay if it feels good. I hope it does. But that’s not why.”

“I know,” Bucky says. He gives his wrist an experimental flick, and it feels nice, but not as nice as Louis. Which is perfect. He really, really doesn’t want to come yet.

“You’re doing it for me,” Louis reminds him. “You need to keep that cock nice and hard so you can put it inside me and make me feel good.”

“What if I can’t?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Louis reassures him. “And it will be okay, love. But I think you can. For me. I think you can do it for me, because you know it will make me happy and make me feel good. Can you try really hard just for me?”

And they both know he will. That Bucky would do absolutely anything that Louis asked him to. Bucky doesn’t even need to say it with words, so he doesn’t. Instead, he loosens his grip enough so that he can slowly work his hand up and down over his cock, and he looks right into Louis’ eyes and moans softly. Louis smiles.

“You’re doing great, darling. I’ll be back in a tick.”

Bucky is normally methodical. Reliable. Observant to a fault. He doesn’t lose time, not anymore. But in this moment, in this bed, he closes his eyes and lets himself get lost. And he doesn’t know how long it takes, and he doesn’t care. He has a task for Louis, and he is going to fulfil it perfectly. For Louis. For Louis.

And when he hears the door open, he doesn’t know how long it’s been, and he blinks against the sudden brightness as he opens his eyes. And he stares at Louis, silhouetted in the doorframe, and he’s still hard, and his words feel scratchy in his throat as he says, “I did it, babe.”

“Knew you could,” Louis whispers. His bravado is gone now as he pads into the room. His gait is altered somehow, his stance slightly varus. He walks right up to the bed, and Bucky can see he has lube in one hand and a condom in the other.

“Did I earn a kiss?” Bucky asks. He wants one, but mostly he wants to give one to Louis, to press his mouth to Louis’ mouth and to swallow down those creeping doubts.

“Course,” Louis says. Bucky starts to push up onto his elbows, but Louis is too quick, already dropping to his knees and pressing a lingering kiss to the head of Bucky’s dick.

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky says, his whole body shuddering.

“You didn’t do anything,” Louis teases him. “Superdick did all the work.”

“Don’t call it that,” Bucky says with a groan.

“You did good,” Louis whispers, his lips brushing against the damp skin of Bucky’s cock, and it takes all of Bucky’s willpower to keep his hips still. “My best little superhero. Got a little costume for you.”

“You’re so weird, babe,” Bucky says fondly. He’s lost track entirely of how many different emotions he’s felt today, but it always feels good to be silly with Louis.

He bites his lip and keeps quiet as Louis opens up the condom and unrolls it over his dick. Louis’ touch is gentle but sure as he gets the condom in place and then slicks Bucky up with a bit of the fancy lube. Bucky had thought it might smell like something, with how expensive the packaging looks, but it doesn’t smell like anything at all. He only smells Louis’ bodywash and the lingering scent of the candles.

Louis is wiping off his hand with the corner of the plush towel under Bucky’s hips, and he’s being very methodical and thorough in a way that he never is about anything. But Bucky doesn’t tease him. They’re too close now. He knows Louis is nervous, and he’s not going to make it worse.

“How do you want to do this?” Bucky asks eventually, when it becomes clear that Louis isn’t going to say anything.

“Could you stay right there?” Louis asks. “I know I said I wanted to be on me back, but I think I’d like to be on top, if that’s okay. Set the pace.”

“That’s fine,” Bucky says. “That’s perfect. Whatever you want.”

“Ready for me?” Louis asks. He tilts his head to the side, and his hair falls across his eyes, and he could be Louis from Starbucks three years ago. He could be Louis telling Bucky he loves him for the first time. He could be Louis packing up Bucky’s apartment so they could move in together, or taking him to the farmers market, or dancing with him in the kitchen. He could be Louis sitting next to Bucky in the back of a dark car at the end of their first date, saying he would wait as long as it took for something good with Bucky. He is all of those people, and Bucky has loved him for so long that it’s a reflex now.

“I love you,” Bucky says. It wasn’t what he meant to say, but it’s what he says, and he means it.

“I love you,” Louis says back to him, and he isn’t quite smiling, but he projects so much with his eyes, warmth and longing and gratitude. He shuffles over to Bucky on his knees until he’s straddling him. “Can you… can you keep your eyes on my face? Do you mind?”

“If that’s what you want,” Bucky says.

“It is,” Louis says softly. “Don’t want you watching this part of it. It’s weird.”

And so Bucky has his eyes locked tight on Louis’ face as Louis feels behind himself for Bucky’s dick and grips it tight, carefully lining himself up, and before he even realizes that it’s happening, he feels the warmth of Louis’ body against his sensitive cockhead, and it’s a blunt pressure at first that suddenly gives, and it’s barely anything at all, just the smallest motion, he’s barely inside Louis, but he’s inside Louis, warm and perfect and tight. And he feels the breach at the same time he sees Louis’ head fall back, and he tracks the movement of Louis’ thyroid cartilage against the column of his elegant throat as Louis swallows back a moan. He feels Louis’ legs on either side of his hips, feels the tremble of his straining muscles as he holds himself up.

“Can I help?” Bucky asks, and Louis blinks at him several times, breathing steadily in and out.

“Please,” he says eventually. “Can you just hold my hips? Don’t pull me down. I’ll do it. Just hold me steady.”

“Of course,” Bucky says, and without looking, he runs his hands up Louis’ thighs, follows the shuddering line of his quads up to the wings of his pelvis, and he grips tightly. It’s an awkward angle for his arms, but he focuses on keeping Louis in place, and he sees and feels the moment that Louis starts to relax.

“Thanks,” Louis says softly. “Haven’t done it like this before. Didn’t realize it required the strength of an Olympic athlete or a supersoldier to get the job done, bloody hell.”

“Good thing you’ve got a supersoldier on hand,” Bucky says with a strained smile. It’s taking every bit of control not to thrust up into Louis. He’s only got a taste of this so far, and his body is already demanding more. But his body is going to have to settle down and shut up and do this at Louis’ pace.

He wonders if this is what it’s felt like for Louis these last several years, denying himself what he wanted in order to respect Bucky’s boundaries. He realizes this is probably exactly what it felt like for Louis these last several years, and he understands two competing thoughts simultaneously.

First, he thinks about what Louis has given up for years. He thinks about the self restraint Louis has exhibited, he thinks about all the times that Louis had to reason with the most animalistic, unreasonable part of himself. And he knew about this before, but he feels like he knows it differently now, in a more primal, immediate part of himself, and his entire body is flooded with the ferocity of his love and gratitude for Louis.

And the second thing he realizes is that he is not for one second going to test this boundary. He is not going to deviate a single millimeter out of Louis’ comfort zone. Taking something he wants at Louis’ expense is not even an option, and he realizes that it was the same for Louis. That Louis fought against his own urges gladly and constantly, that this is the strength of Louis’ love for him.

“You’re amazing,” Bucky murmurs. He rubs his thumb in small circles over Louis’ hip, and Louis’ eyes flutter shut for a moment. He still has one hand on Bucky’s dick, and he plants the other against Bucky’s sternum. He takes a shaky breath in and then lowers himself another inch as he exhales.

“You’re amazing,” Louis says breathily, eyes still closed. “Love you so much, big-dicked weirdo, perfect love of my life. Jesus.”

“Are you doing okay?” There is still so much tension in Louis’ face, in his arms, and Bucky can’t tell if it’s nerves or pain, but he doesn’t like Louis carrying that.

“I’m okay,” Louis says, and he finally opens his eyes, smiling when he sees that Bucky is still looking at his face like he’d asked. “Just don’t want to rush this part. Is that okay? Can you be patient for a little longer?”

“Whatever you need,” Bucky swears, and he squeezes Louis’ hip for good measure.

Louis nods and bites his lip, and then he takes several slow breaths in and out. He closes his eyes again, and his fingers curl against Bucky’s chest, his nails catching on Bucky’s skin, but it doesn’t hurt, and Bucky doesn’t mind. He lets Louis hang on tight and breathe, and he watches Louis’ face as he slowly, smoothly sinks down the rest of the way onto Bucky’s dick.

Bucky barely has time to appreciate the avalanche of new sensations before Louis’ eyes snap open and he’s gasping, “Too much, help me up,” and Bucky is lifting Louis back up by his hips before he’s even finished processing his words.

“Are you okay?” Bucky demands. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine,” Louis says, and he tries to wriggle back down again. “I don’t want to stop. Just...that was too much. That last inch there. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Bucky says, and his heart is beating so loud in his ears he can’t even hear himself speak. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Didn’t hurt exactly,” Louis says. “Just...too much. Too intense.” He looks down in frustration, but Bucky doesn’t know what he’s seeing, because Bucky is still watching his face. “Dunno if I can control it the way I thought I could.”

“We can stop,” Bucky says.

“No,” Louis says. “No, I want to keep going. It’s not bad, it’s just--” His eyes suddenly snap back to Bucky with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry, babe, do you want to stop? I didn’t check in, I’m so sorry, I--”

“I don’t want to stop, sweetheart,” Bucky says tenderly. He’s only about halfway into Louis right now, but the warmth and pressure of Louis’ body is exquisite. He’d pull out if Louis asked him to, but his body wants to keep going. “I don’t want to hurt you, though. Not doing anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Louis says carefully. “Well, I mean, it hurts a little, but that’s part of it. But that wasn’t why I needed to stop. It was just...too much. Too intense, too fast. I need to build to that. It feels good, love, you feel brilliant inside me, holy shit.” He releases his grip on Bucky’s chest, tracing the marks of his nails with a tentative fingertip. “Can you help me slow it down? I can’t pace it right. Gravity’s working against me there.”

“What do you want me to do?” Anything, anything, anything for you.

“Can you hold me up?” Louis asks quietly. “Can you hold me in place and do the work for me? Just push into me, and I’ll tell you when to stop?”

“Of course,” Bucky says. It’s going to require a lot of strength and a lot of self control, but Bucky has plenty of both, and he will push his limits for Louis. “Now?”

“Please,” Louis says, and his eyes are determined and soft and trusting as Bucky slowly lifts his hips from the bed, driving up into Louis until he murmurs, “Right there, love.”

“Too far?” Bucky asks urgently. Louis is trembling again.

“No, not too far. Perfect far. Oh god, that’s fucking perfect,” Louis babbles. “Don’t go any farther than that, but that’s fucking perfect. Can you… can you…?”

“I’ve got you,” Bucky whispers. “It’s okay, darling, I’ve got you.”

Louis nods, and his entire body seems to release tension at once. Bucky lowers his hips to the bed and then smoothly thrusts up again to the exact spot as before, and Louis is limp and perfect in his arms, completely reliant and trusting. Bucky is doing all the work now, even the work of keeping Louis upright. Each time Bucky thrusts up, Louis shudders, his body rocking in time to Bucky’s hips, like he’s adrift, a boat being tossed in a storm with only Bucky’s tight grip on his hips to keep him from going overboard. Bucky readjusts his position, planting his feet on the bed so that Louis can lean back against his bent knees, and something about that changes the angle so that the next time he pushes into Louis, his entire body quivers, and he tightens reflexively around Bucky in a way that has Bucky seeing stars.

“Fuck,” Louis gasps. His head is lolling to one side, like he can’t even hold it up any more. He blinks at Bucky, several times in rapid succession, and his eyes are shiny and complicated. It’s another two tight, perfect thrusts before the first tear trickles down Louis’ cheek.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks quietly, pausing where he is, hips raised, arms straining, cock throbbing.

“Better than okay,” Louis whispers as another tear falls, more quickly this time. “Best. I’m the best. You’re the best. I dunno how much longer I can hold off, babe. I don’t want to come yet.”

“What can I do?” Bucky asks.

“Can you put me on my back?” Louis asks. “Cage me in a bit and take care of me? Keep me close so I can kiss you?”

“Hold onto me,” Bucky says, his mind racing with the idea of what it will feel like to have this feeling on his cock combined with the closeness of Louis’ face to his. Louis hugs Bucky’s hips with his knees as Bucky eases them onto their sides, and Louis’ arms wrap around Bucky’s neck as Bucky slowly, slowly rolls them over.

Louis is on his back now, blinking his hot tears so close that all Bucky has to do is lean over to catch them with his mouth. Louis whines, and Bucky feels his breath on his face, feels the vibrations of his vocal cords, feels the rapid stammer of Louis’ heart and the subtle flutter of his diaphragm. Bucky knows his body. He knows every piece of Louis’ body now, top to bottom, inside and out. He holds himself just above Louis, his own hair falling across Louis’ face, his own sweat intermingling with Louis’, and Louis looks at him, really looks at him with his wide, wondrous eyes before tipping his chin up just enough to touch their lips together.

“Take me, then,” Louis whispers against Bucky’s mouth, bringing both of his hands to Bucky’s face, pushing back his sweaty hair. “I’m yours, darling. Take me.”

And Louis calls it taking, but it feels like giving. Every time Bucky pushes into him, Louis cries out, broken and trembling, tears falling openly now as he tightens his grip on Bucky’s hair. It feels good for Bucky, it feels unbelievably fucking good and perfect for Bucky, but Louis is keening and writhing beneath him, Louis is out of his mind with it, and Bucky gets to give that to him. Every time Bucky snaps his hips, he gives that to Louis.

“I’m close,” Louis croaks after a time, and he takes one hand from Bucky’s hair, moves it down his own body, and Bucky can feel Louis’ knuckles against his abs. “Sorry, love, wanted to wait, wanted it to last, but I can’t.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky murmurs, driving in his hips with new purpose, coaxing Louis along. He noses behind Louis’ ear, sucks lightly on the flushed skin he finds there. “Want you to come, darling. Want you to feel so good and lose yourself with me inside you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, pulling back to look into Louis’ trusting eyes. “Let yourself get lost, Lou. I’ll find you.”

Louis nods, and then he wraps his legs fully around Bucky’s hips, digging into his lower back with his sharp heels, saying, “In, in, get all the way in and stay there.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks, holding himself back even as he’s itching to push deeper.

“Want it,” Louis promises, his eyes hazy and wet. “Make me feel it.”

So Bucky swallows hard, and he tries to focus, tries to control his body and wrangle his own desire, and he plants his forearms and drives deep into Louis. Louis cries out and lifts his own hips, clenching so tight around him that Bucky loses himself for a moment, his elbow slides just a little and brings his chest closer to Louis, crushingly, blissfully close. Bucky allows himself the opportunity to feel his own pleasure, to revel in it. Nothing has ever felt like this before, so hot, so intimate. He didn’t know he could feel this way.

“Perfect,” Louis breathes. “C’mon, darling.”

And he opens his mouth to say something else, but Bucky pushes in again, and again, and again, and his hips start to move without him telling them to, and Louis blinks up at him, tears falling openly down his face as he hiccups out nonsense and gently strokes his fingers through Bucky’s hair. He tightens his legs around Bucky, keeps him so deep that Bucky can’t fully thrust anymore, he can only grind his cock deep inside of Louis, and Louis squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t make any noise at all, all the air punched out of his lungs as his entire body shudders and he starts to come.

Louis is loud. Everyone who’s met Louis knows that he’s loud. But when he comes for the first time with Bucky’s dick tucked deep inside of him, Louis comes quietly. A perfect, intimate, unbroken moment just for the two of them, small and huge and theirs.

And it catches Bucky off-guard, catches him unawares and makes his heart beat weird and frantic, and there will never be enough oxygen in the world to make his body strong enough to contain how fucking much he loves this man. He can’t control it, can’t hold it back for even one second longer. And his leans his forehead heavily against Louis’, and he can only faintly hear the sound of the sheets ripping as he tightens his fists and comes deep inside Louis, as deep as he can get, as deep as he’s ever been. He’s never been so close to anyone in his entire life, and it feels like it goes on and on, like he’s spent decades trying to find his way to here, to this place, to this man.

And then, everything is bright, and he’s blinking, and Louis’ face is hazy, haloed, and he blinks again, and Louis’ face slowly swims into focus, flickering, then beaming, a perfect point of light.

He feels like he’s waking up, which means he must have lost time again. But he’s here now, and he’s safe, and Louis took care of him throughout it all, and he’s not scared. Louis found him, so maybe he was never really lost.

Louis is reaching a careful hand towards him now, and now he’s brushing his thumb tenderly under Bucky’s eyes, and when he pulls his hand back, his fingers are glistening just a little. Did he cry? He doesn’t remember crying. But he blinks, and there’s an odd heaviness to his eyelashes, and he keeps blinking as Louis gently brushes his thumb along Bucky’s lower lip, painting him, marking him. And now Louis is raising his head, looking into his eyes, and now he’s touching his mouth to Bucky’s, kissing off his tears, kissing him soft but deliberate, and Louis’ tongue is sweet, sweet salt in Bucky’s mouth.

“All right, then?” Louis asks quietly, pulling back and looking into Bucky’s eyes. His hand is still on Bucky’s cheek.

“I ripped the sheets,” Bucky says dazedly, and Louis chuckles.

“You did, love, but it’s okay. We have heaps of sheets. But are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he says, and his voice is scratchy and thick in his throat, but it’s true. He’s so good. Louis is beneath him, solid and permanent, and Bucky is still inside him, and it feels like that’s the only thing keeping him anchored to this bed, like he’s so light he would just float away otherwise. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” Louis whispers. “Did you like it, darling? Was I… was it good?”

“You were amazing,” Bucky says, choosing to answer the question that Louis didn’t ask. He lowers his face to the spot where Louis’ neck meets his shoulder and inhales, and he murmurs his words into Louis’ clavicle. “You felt amazing, Lou. It was so much.”

“You were brilliant,” Louis says, running his fingers through the slightly sweaty hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. “You took such good care of me. Made me feel so safe.”

“I always will,” Bucky says, lifting his head again, getting caught in the strength of Louis’ stare again. He couldn’t look away for anything in the world. “Always.”

“I know,” Louis says, and they just stare at each other, running their eyes over each other’s features as if for the first time, like Bucky has never seen these eyes before, like he’s never seen this nose or those lips, like he’s seeing something beautiful and new that he wants to remember forever.

“Love you,” Bucky reminds him, as if Louis could have possibly forgotten, and Louis’ eyes track the shapes that his mouth makes as he says the words.

“Love you, too,” Louis says, his eyes skittering over Bucky’s eyebrows, his cheekbones, his jaw. Then he winces slightly. “I’m sorry, darling, but would you mind pulling out?”

“Tell me when,” Bucky says, and Louis nods, and Bucky can feel his hand moving, and Louis is peering down, but Bucky keeps his gaze on Louis’ face, and he feels when Louis’ fingers find the end of the condom, holding it in place against Bucky’s dick, which is still mostly hard even after coming.

“Slow,” Louis says softly.

Bucky nods and he delicately eases out of Louis’ body and rolls onto his side. Louis efficiently removes the condom for him and knots off the end, and Bucky’s cock softens, like it knows that it’s completed its task and isn’t needed any longer. Louis arches his back and sits up gingerly.

“I need to shower,” Louis says with a half-smile. “Need some time in there to myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever you want,” Bucky says. His skin screams at being so far away from Louis after being so close, but he will give Louis anything he needs right now.

“Why don’t you change the sheets for us, love?” Louis suggests, standing up. “Give me ten minutes to meself, and then come in and join me, if you like.”

“See you soon,” Bucky says, and he keeps his eyes on Louis’ face as he leaves the room, and then he stares up at the ceiling and grins stupidly to himself for a full three minutes. That happened. He’s wondered for so long what it would be like, and now he knows that it’s like this, and it’s more than he ever could have imagined.

And then he gets up and blows out the candles, stripping the bed so he can start the laundry.

*

Once the sheets are tumbling away in the washing machine with a fresh set waiting on the bed for them, Bucky knocks on the bathroom door to see if Louis is ready for him. Three different sets of sheets in one day is a little extravagant for them, but Bucky supposes it’s a special occasion. Louis tells him to come into the room, but not to join him in the shower just yet, so Bucky leans against the counter and waits in the misty air, waiting for Louis to say it’s okay. He can just make out Louis’ silhouette behind the shower curtain, so he looks away, trying to give Louis a little more privacy.

“This is disgusting,” Louis says mournfully. “You’d never touch me again if you knew how disgusting I am right now.”

“You’re not disgusting,” Bucky says, watching the mirror fog over. “You’re beautiful, and I love you.”

“You’re full of shit,” Louis says, and his face pops out from behind the shower curtain, piercing Bucky with a blinding smile. “But I love you, too.”

“Are you done then?” Bucky asks. He hadn’t dressed again after the sex, hadn’t really cleaned himself up at all, and his skin is craving a good scrub. “Can I join you?”

“Not yet,” Louis says. His eyes flick casually over Bucky’s bare chest, and he licks his lips unconsciously. “Just missed you and wanted to see your face.”

“You’re not looking at my face,” Bucky says with a small smile.

“Don’t act smart,” Louis says with a shark-like grin, then he ducks back behind the curtain. “Give me another minute, love.”

“Take your time,” Bucky calls out, though he’s not sure if Louis can hear him over the running water and the tune he’s humming to himself as he finishes cleaning up.

“Did you make the bed, love?” Louis asks a few minutes later.

“Of course.”

“What did you do with the sheets?” Louis asks. He sticks his head out from behind the curtain again, and his hair is wet and plastered to his forehead.

“Threw ‘em in the wash.”

“Not the rubbish?”

“No,” Bucky says, realizing that maybe he made a silly decision. The sheets are ripped. They have dozens and dozens of other sheet sets. There’s no reason to hang onto these except for a fierce shard of sentimentality that he can’t shake just yet. “No, Lou, let’s keep them at least a little bit longer.”

“All right, love,” Louis says softly. “Come on, then. Get in already. It’s boring in here without you.”

“Do you know how sexy you are when you’re bossy?” Bucky asks, walking over to the shower and pulling back the curtain to step in.

“Do you know how sexy I am all the time?” Louis responds cheekily, moving to one side to make room for Bucky under the spray.

Bucky is about to answer, but as he steps forward, his heel hits a slick spot on the floor of the shower, and he pitches forward before he manages to catch his balance with an arm to the wall. He frowns once he regains his balance, tilting his ankle to rinse off the bottom of his foot. He must’ve stepped in a rogue patch of leftover lube.

“Oh no,” Louis moans. “That’s revolting, babe. That was inside of me.”

“I was inside of you,” Bucky murmurs. He leans down for a soft kiss, and he feels Louis smile against his lips. But when Bucky goes to put his hands on Louis’ hips, Louis tenses up, and Bucky immediately drops his hands and takes a step back.

“Sorry,” Louis blurts out before Bucky can say anything. “Come back. Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks gently. “Did I do something? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Louis says, biting his lip. “You’re perfect. I’m being daft. I’m sorry. Could you just… would you mind if, just for now, you kept your hands” -- he gestures at his own mid-torso region -- “above here?”

“Whatever you need,” Bucky says.

No matter how much they both enjoyed what they just did, Bucky understands what it’s like to feel uncertain about your body and what it does and how much of that you want to share with another person, even someone you love. He gets that, and he will respect that. He cautiously takes a step towards Louis, and then pauses, gauging his reaction. The water from the shower is pouring down over Louis’ shoulders, and with his wet hair slicked over his forehead, he looks smaller, younger.

“Come here,” Louis says. “Please.”

Bucky moves closer, until his toes are just a breath away from Louis’, close enough that some of the water sliding down Louis’ body splashes over both of them. Bucky looks into Louis’ eyes, and there’s something determined in his look, mixed with an open sort of vulnerability. This man loves and trusts him so much. Bucky brings his left hand up to Louis’ arm, lets the metal hover just above the skin covering Louis’ biceps.

“Can I touch you here?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Louis says, and Bucky gently cups Louis’ upper arm with his metal hand.

“Can I touch you here?” Bucky asks again, bringing his other hand over to Louis’ cheek, nice and slow so that Louis has plenty of time to stop him.

“Yes,” Louis says, and the second Bucky is holding his face, Louis pushes up on his toes and kisses him, arms easily slipping around his neck.

It’s hard to support Louis properly with his hands where they are, but this is where Louis said he could touch him, his cheek, his arm, and so Bucky holds on with everything he has, supports Louis as perfectly as he can within the boundaries laid out for him. All Bucky can do is hold him and kiss him and trust that Louis will take care of himself and not fall.

“Let’s get you clean,” Louis says when he pulls back and settles down onto flat, sure feet again. “Do you want me to help, love?”

“Of course,” Bucky says. He feels greedy for it, all of his nerves are singing out for Louis’ gentle aftercare.

So Louis cleans him, sudsing him from toes to neck, methodically, lovingly rubbing his bodywash into Bucky’s calves and thighs, scritching with his blunt nails at where Louis’ come has dried on his abs. He washes Bucky’s right arm until his skin is squeaky clean, and then he washes the left arm. The metal doesn’t need it, they both know this, but Louis likes to do it, so Bucky always lets him. He runs his soapy palms over Bucky’s chest, his face serious, his eyes focused on the task at hand. With his head bowed and his gaze lowered, Louis almost looks like he’s praying, and Bucky tucks his chin just enough to press his lips to the damp top of Louis’ head, because he thinks they both have a lot to be grateful for.

“You don’t have chest hair,” Louis says as he starts to rinse off the soap.

“I don’t,” Bucky agrees.

“That’s a little odd, innit? You have hair everywhere else.”

“I used to,” Bucky recalls. “I did. HYDRA used to place a lot of electrodes on my chest. Maybe they fried the hair cells, or maybe they manipulated the DNA to stop it from growing.”

“Where did they put them?” Louis asks, tensing his jaw. “The electrodes?”

Bucky closes his eyes briefly to remember, and then he points out three spots on his torso. Louis moves to each in turn, pressing his mouth to Bucky’s skin and rubbing back and forth, licking and kissing away every bad touch that Bucky ever received like his gentle love is an eraser. And in a lot of ways, it is.

“Mine now,” Louis whispers. “Those spots are mine now. Turn around, love. Let me do your hair.”

Bucky turns around and closes his eyes, lets Louis’ fingers work through his hair, scratching at his scalp. It’s soothing, hypnotizing, and he realizes all at once how tired he is, how much he can’t wait to crawl back into bed and wrap himself up in Louis and sleep.

“Hm,” Louis says.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Louis says, but he sounds uncertain. Bucky turns back around.

“Tell me.”

“Sorry, love,” Louis says. “Found a grey hair.”

“Really?” Bucky asks, and his heart leaps. “Are you sure?”

“Want me to pull it for you?”

“No!” He’s never had a grey hair before, never knew for sure he could get them, but now it’s starting, it might be starting.

“You’re smiling,” Louis says suspiciously. “Why are you smiling?”

“I have a grey hair,” Bucky says, grinning wider. “You’re sure? You’re sure, Lou?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Lou says with a confused half-smile. “This is not the reaction I expected from you. This is a...good thing?”

“It’s an awesome thing,” Bucky says, struggling to contain his excitement. “I’m getting older.”

“Who says I want an older boyfriend?” Louis asks with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I want to keep you young and fit forever.”

“Too bad,” Bucky says happily. “I’m gonna have grey hair and wrinkles, and we’re both going to get old. We’re going to get old together, Lou. You’re stuck with me.”

“Well I suppose I like the sound of that,” Louis says with a gentle smile. He places his hand on Bucky’s metal upper arm and lets his palm trace the entire length of his limb, sliding down past his elbow, past his wrist, until his hand slips easily into Bucky’s own. He squeezes Bucky’s hand, and Bucky squeezes back, and they both just stand there, smiling goofily as the shower continues to pound down around them.

*

A few days later, they’re sitting on the couch together. Louis is playing video games with his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky is supposed to be paying bills but he’s mostly just watching Louis’ face, the way he bites his lip when he messes up, the way his eyes dart to Bucky with a cocky smile when he does something good.

Louis turns the game off eventually, but he leaves his head where it is and lets his whole body slump into Bucky’s. Bucky abandons the facade of responsibility entirely, putting his laptop away so he can loop his arms around Louis’ warm body and cradle him in place. It’s okay. The bills will get paid eventually. This is more important, this soft moment in time when they are together and relaxed and happy.

“What do you want to do today?” Louis mumbles into Bucky’s neck.

“This,” Bucky says, thumbing at Louis’ vertebrae through his shirt. “Just want to do this.”