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Bucky’s head falls back against the tin wall of the little bar they’d stepped out of, the sultry tropical air feeling even warmer with Tony’s lips on his throat and his hands on Bucky’s skin—shoved under his T-shirt and roaming up and down his ribs.
Shivers ripple over his skin and he can hear how loud he’s breathing but god, he doesn’t think anyone would be composed when under the full attention of Tony Stark.
They’re on a mission in Jamaica, trying to make a deal with some arms brokers, and somehow they’d wound up with a cover as a married couple. The ring on Bucky’s finger feels odd, but seeing a matching one on Tony’s makes the yearning that’s been growing in his chest for months ache even harder.
This cover is blissful torture—and when Tony licks up the side of his throat Bucky groans and rolls his hips into Tony’s, heat pulsing through him when he feels Tony is just as aroused as he is.
“They watching?” Tony murmurs in his ear and, oh yea, they’re supposed to be selling this cover to their contacts so they can see just how in love he and Tony are—the more believable they come across the sooner they can get this deal done and bust these black market dealers into jail.
“Uh huh,” Bucky manages to pant out, fingers spasming on Tony’s hips when Tony bites a mark on his throat, a whimpering moan falling from his lips at the rush of pleasure.
Tony kisses him then and it’s a lie, but god it’s the truest thing Bucky’s ever felt—slick and hot and demanding and he groans into it, pulling Tony even closer, their hot bodies sliding against each other. Sweat coats his skin and he aches to strip down and feel Tony against him.
“Hey, lovebirds, we gonna make a deal or what?”
Bucky almost whimpers when Tony pulls away, a smirk on his lips as he turns his head to look at their contacts.
“Mmm sorry about that, he just makes the sweetest sounds,” Tony says with a filthy laugh, hand squeezing gently at Bucky’s hip in what he thinks is probably reassurance as the other men laugh.
Tony steps back and the air rushes in between them, cool against his overheated skin.
Holding out his hand, Tony smirks, “C’mon sweetheart, let’s go make a deal.”