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“Well, aren’t you lookin’ nice.”
Steve checks him with his shoulder when he walks by, neither of them moving out of the way. He ducks his head to hide his grin. “Got bread.”
“Rogers, I mean you look good,” Bucky says. “Real good. Where’d you go off to all morning?”
And he does: his cheeks and his mouth and his nose red from the cold, his eyes bright, just wearing clothes for a work out despite the weather, t-shirt and sweats. Bucky can see his nipples through the cotton. Jesus H. Christ. He grabs Steve around the waist and turns him around and walks him back against the kitchen counter. “Gotta put the bread in the breadbox,” Steve protests.
“Don’t have a breadbox.”
“You always been such a randy asshole?”
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean we suddenly got a breadbox.”
“You don’t say.” Steve grins when Bucky kisses him, and kisses him, and keeps kissing him. He opens up his mouth, his lips a little cold, and melts against the counter, and lets Bucky at him, and presses his thumbs into Bucky’s hips. “I should shower,” he murmurs after a second. “Thor doesn’t fuck around about jogging.”
“Oh, Thor,” Bucky remarks, and Steve huffs a laugh, warm and low against Bucky’s cheek. “You sure are seeing a lot of this guy lately.”
“Makin’ you jealous?”
Bucky pulls back. Steve’s flushing high on his cheeks, pretty as hell and apprehensive too, for whatever reason. Bucky doesn’t know why. He’ll try anything once; Steve knows that. “I got a reason to be jealous?” Bucky finally asks. He presses another kiss to Steve’s mouth and lingers there for just a second. Steve keeps his eyes open. “What, you think I can’t tell that you want some of that dick?”
“Oh my God,” Steve laughs. He leans back against the counter, ducking his head, his shoulders shaking. “Buck, I swear to Christ —“
“What?”
“You can’t just say shit like that,” Steve says, grinning hugely. “Jesus, you’re awful, you know that?”
“I’m right,” Bucky teases, lowly. “I’m right, or else you wouldn’t be so red, would you? What is it, huh? That he’s bigger than you? You don’t gotta say, I know that’s it. He could hold you down for real, couldn’t he?”
Steve’s biting his lip and so Bucky leans forward and bites it for him. He grins against Steve’s open mouth and suddenly he grabs Steve and flips him around, belly to the hard countertop, grabbing both Steve’s wrists behind his back with his left hand, yanking at his hair with the right. “You think I can’t hold you down? That it? You thinkin’ about stepping out on me, baby, when you can get it fine right here at home?”
Steve gives a cursory struggle, but it’s all a part of the game. Bucky presses in closer. He’s getting hard; sue him. He likes Steve this way, pink all over, grinning and flustered and wiggling around. “Or you want me to watch, hmm? You want me to watch you take it, you want me to watch you pant and moan and choke down some other fella’s dick —“
“Christ,” Steve bites.
“ — Or take it up the ass, even, lookin’ at me all the while, those big baby blues — oh, sweetheart, you’d look at me the whole time, and I’d look at you, and you’d have to try like hell not to scream my name —“
Steve takes Bucky by surprise, breaking his grasp and whipping around and smashing into him, kissing him hungrily, his hands suddenly in Bucky’s hair. They manhandle each other, banging elbows and hips on goddamn everything, shoving at clothes, and finally they get into the bedroom, and Steve lands on top, leaning over Bucky to get the slick from the table. Bucky shoves up that tight little t-shirt — he’s right there, after all — and cranes his neck up and sucks one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, using teeth, getting mean about it. Steve makes a shuddering, hot noise, bending over him, his knees digging tight around Bucky’s waist. He braces a hand on Bucky’s chest and digs his fingers in, leaving five red dents. He groans, and Bucky realizes he’s touching himself, getting himself ready; and then Bucky’s spine goes hot and liquid when Steve fists his dick suddenly in his hand, slicking him up.
“Really — you think you’d be pissed?” Steve asks, breathy and full-throated, while he gets Bucky inside of him, sinking down, down, down. His mouth is open and wet, same as he’s open and wet inside, and all he’s got on is his shirt, shoved up under his armpits, and his socks.
“Can’t be pissed while I got a dime like you on my dick.”
They look at each other for a moment, panting, and then suddenly Steve’s face breaks into a grin, and so Bucky’s does, too. “What?” he asks, still smiling. He crunches up and props himself up on his elbows and kisses Steve for a long second. “What, you crazy fucking asshole?”
“You would wanna watch.”
“Of course I’d wanna watch, dumbass.” Thor isn’t exactly Bucky’s type, but hell yes, he would watch — he would love to watch. Bucky reaches down with his right arm and grabs Steve’s ass, kneading at it. Their noses touch. “He could really show you what-for. You’d be a fucking mess, sweetheart; I’d pay money to see that.”
“Yeah, well.” Steve’s eyes are turning hazy. “I mean, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that he’s got you beat in a couple’a areas.”
Bucky rocks his hips up, moving inside of Steve, once, twice, three times, setting up a steady rhythm. Steve’s mouth drops open. He rakes blunt nails down Bucky’s chest, and the hair there; Bucky isn’t even sure if Steve knows he’s doing it. “This ain’t big enough?” Bucky asks.
“Shut up,” Steve gasps.
“Even when you’re on top, here I am, still doin’ all the work,” Bucky sighs. “I’d ask him to take that out on your ass, I hope you know. Move, baby. Come on…”
Steve does, and Bucky says a few sweet things; what, exactly, he doesn’t know, because Steve’s shirt is just now coyly covering his pecs, and his nipples are hard through the fabric. Bucky moves up again to flatten his tongue against one and rub. The rough fabric and the pressure does something crazy wonderful to Steve; he arches into Bucky’s mouth, and he grabs at Bucky’s head, holding him there, wanting some more. So Bucky gives it to him until the fabric’s wet enough that he can see pink of Steve’s nipples underneath, some kind of half-assed wet t-shirt contest. Bucky lays back again and just shoves the shirt out of the way as much as he can, cupping Steve’s tits, pinching and squeezing and even just holding.
“Jesus, you’re something,” he murmurs. All he can see is the long blushing line of Steve’s neck, his open mouth, his thick, fluttering lashes, his head falling back while he rides him. Bucky runs his palms down Steve’s belly and over his hips and his ass and back to his tits again. “I wonder if he’d want you on your knees or on your back. Or maybe on top, just to watch these bounce. Hmm? Or maybe he’d want you all trussed up and waiting. You like that, baby doll? All tied up for him to use, just to take the edge off after a hard day? Somebody for him to come back to after all that fighting, huh? Spoils of war, that’d be you.”
“That’s —“ But Steve’s breath is coming in gasps, and it’s hard for him to get the words out. Bucky reaches down and fists his dick, rubbing his thumb just under the head, because he’s kind of an asshole. “That’s — oh —“
Bucky flips them over deftly; Steve’s too far gone to keep up, and he makes a little cry when Bucky throws his legs over his shoulders, bending him neatly in half, fitting in even deeper. Steve blinks up at Bucky with big shocked eyes, his mouth open, and his tits pressed together like a girl’s because of how he’s gripping between his own legs at Bucky’s waist. Bucky can’t take it, and he fucks him hard as he likes, really holding him down, really giving it to him. Jesus, Steve’s beautiful. Generous as anything. He tips his head back and his brows knit together and he lets Bucky fuck him absolutely stupid. “But you gotta be all mine after,” Bucky manages. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying; he feels possessed. “Right, baby doll? You gonna let me in you after?”
“Yes,” Steve moans. “Yes, Buck, God—“
“Let me fill you up and finish you off,” Bucky says. “Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart — end of the night you gotta be all mine, you gotta let me be jealous as sin, you gotta let me eat you right up and then you gotta let me do it all over again.“
Steve makes a helpless noise. “Buck,” he gasps. “Oh, Buck —“
Between them his stiff cock is leaking, same as always. He gets so wet anymore; it drives Bucky up the wall. He presses in close as he can and grinds hard and fast into him, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin at the backs of Steve’s knees. Steve’s brows knit and he moans and moans and moans, and then he makes those shocked, sudden noises, and Bucky watches it play over his face; oh, oh, oh, oh, Steve says, coming all over himself, making a mess of his belly and his nipples and his shirt, shoved up above them. His head thunks back and his legs pull Bucky down closer, the muscles in his thighs twitching. “Fuck,” Bucky groans, and has to bury his face into Steve’ neck, where he smells like sweat and the winter air, and he comes too, buried all the way inside of him, the initial jerk so hard and deep that it hurts a little. It takes him by surprise, and when he’s done it leaves him shaking and grabbing at Steve, all that skin, all those curves, still desperate to touch him. “Fuck,” he repeats, weakly.
The original plan involves rolling off of Steve so he’s got room to breathe again, but that doesn’t really happen, and so instead they end up splayed stickily against each other, both staring at the ceiling. After a second Steve clears his throat. Bucky gives a little cough.
“Alright,” Steve says, clearly a little embarrassed. Sure, they’ve done tons of bizarre shit in bed together, but somehow the topic of whoring Steve out to Thor has just never come up before. It was, Bucky thinks, probably bound to happen eventually. “So.”
Bucky blinks for a second, considering his options. Then he says, “Hey, well, it’s not my fault that you want to get passed around by your teammates like a reefer. I was just doing my civic duty by extrapolatin’ on that, technically.”
Steve rolls over and socks him in the stomach.