fic: The reoccurring kind (Captain America; Steve/Bucky; adult)
Happy 4th of July! Have some context-free porn!
The reoccurring kind
Captain America; Steve/Bucky; adult; 1,101 words
Steve loves it when Bucky's rough with him, when the finger-shaped bruises on his hips don't fade in minutes and he can still feel every inch of Bucky inside him for hours.
Title from Bright Eyes. Happy 98th birthday, Steve Rogers!
or read it on AO3.
~*~
The reoccurring kind
Steve still dreams of this sometimes, the whisper-soft touch of Bucky's lips on his skin, followed by the rough brush of his stubble or the wet velvet of his tongue. He used to wake up hard and aching after those dreams, frustrated and desperate and angry and sad all at once over something he wanted more than anything and knew he would never--could never--have, thanks to society, his health, the war--and once he'd had it, never have again, thanks to the ice, HYDRA, the Accords.
He has it now. Bucky is warm and solid in bed with him, acres of bare skin begging for the touch of Steve's hands and mouth. He still has to fight the urge sometimes to break away and pick up a charcoal--has done it occasionally and they've both ended up smudged and gray in places charcoal probably wasn't ever meant to be. Luckily, skin is easy to wash clean, and the serum gave him an eidetic memory, so he can always draw Bucky later.
Bucky's mouth finds a nipple and sucks, and Steve jolts out of his head and back into his body, suddenly aware of every livewire nerve under his skin.
"There you are," Bucky murmurs against his chest, and Steve runs a hand over his hair, his cheek, his red, swollen lips. Bucky sucks Steve's thumb into the wet heat of his mouth, and Steve's cock, already hard and aching to be touched, twitches. He can feel Bucky's lips curve into a smug smile before he lets Steve's thumb slip out. "You're so easy, Rogers."
"For you, yeah," Steve answers hoarsely. "Always." Letting Bucky love him is one of the few easy things he's ever done.
Bucky continues kissing his way down Steve's body while Steve squirms and writhes in blissful expectation. He wants this teasing to go on forever and he wants more, everything, Bucky inside and around him until nothing else exists but the two of them and they've almost become one.
Bucky nuzzles at the crease of Steve's thigh, licks a wet stripe up the underside of his cock and the presses a kiss to the tip, lapping at the precome pearling there. He sucks the head into his mouth and lightning shoots down Steve's spine.
Bucky's new vibranium hand, a matte black Steve probably shouldn't find as attractive as he does, holds Steve's hip in place while his other hand slips down to play with Steve's balls. Steve arches up but not hard enough to break Bucky's hold on him (he could, he knows, but he doesn't mind being held down when it's his choice to stay there), and Bucky laughs, low and throaty.
The vibration shudders through him and Steve can't keep his eyes open. "Jerk," he manages, and he can feel the way Bucky's mouth curves into that grin again before he raises his head and tips Steve an exaggerated wink.
"You wouldn't have me any other way."
"I can think of a few ways I'd like you right now," Steve replies with a wicked grin of his own. His face is hot and his chest is flushed, but he feels another wave of heat rising through him. He's never been any good at talking dirty, but he's also never been afraid to go after what he wants, even if he's had to use his body instead of his words to get it.
"You do, do you?"
Steve takes the metal hand at his hip, the one Bucky tries to be so gentle with, and brings it to his lips. He knows Bucky can't feel anything but pressure, but Bucky's eyes narrow, intrigued.
"I do." He reaches out clumsily for the tube of astroglide on the bedside table, flicks it open and squeezes some onto Bucky's metal fingers.
"Your ideas have some merit," Bucky admits gravely, as if his whole body isn't quivering with as much anticipation and desire as Steve's. He switches hands, gives Steve's cock a rough jerk with his right hand while his left works Steve open, slowly and methodically despite Steve's bitten off curses and pleas for him to hurry it up.
"I'm good, Buck. I'm ready. I'm so ready," he says, reaching out with grabby hands at Bucky's hips. There was a time he might have felt ashamed of how needy he is, how desperately hungry for the feel of Bucky's cock inside him, but that time is long gone, it's just one more thing he took into the ice and didn't bring back out with him.
He knows, now, the kinds of things to be ashamed or afraid of, and loving Bucky, wanting him and needing him, is not going to be one of them ever again. He still flushes with heat though when Bucky murmurs, "Yeah, you really are," against his jaw before giving him a wet, open-mouthed kiss that sucks all the air from his lungs.
He's still panting raggedly when Bucky shoves into him with a snap of his hips that more than satisfies Steve's need to feel him deep inside. Bucky sets a furious pace and Steve curls one arm around Bucky's shoulder and uses the other to grab the headboard. The bed is reinforced, built for two supersoldiers to sleep and fuck and roughhouse in, but it still creaks a little under the onslaught of Bucky's hips.
Steve loves it when Bucky's rough with him, when the finger-shaped bruises on his hips don't fade in minutes and he can still feel every inch of Bucky inside him for hours. Bucky is always so gentle and sweet afterwards, and he's stopped looking startled and shamed at the bruises and bite marks he leaves on Steve's skin. After all, he loves it when Steve returns the favor, strength against strength in a fight they both always win.
Steve's whole body is aflame with pleasure. He gasps into Bucky's mouth and arches up as his orgasm slams into him, fireworks exploding white behind his eyelids. He clamps down hard and feels Bucky come deep inside him with a shudder and a stuttering jerk of his hips.
They collapse into a sticky, sated heap and Steve sighs when Bucky slides out. He still feels open and needing to be filled. Sometimes they don't separate for hours; the serum providing a minimal refractory period and Steve's ever-present desire doing the rest.
Bucky peppers his face with kisses. "You want more, don't you?" he murmurs and Steve hums in agreement.
"I could do this all day."
Bucky laughs, low and filthy, a promise that round two is about to begin.
end
~*~
Feedback is adored.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/853552.html.
people have commented there.
The reoccurring kind
Captain America; Steve/Bucky; adult; 1,101 words
Steve loves it when Bucky's rough with him, when the finger-shaped bruises on his hips don't fade in minutes and he can still feel every inch of Bucky inside him for hours.
Title from Bright Eyes. Happy 98th birthday, Steve Rogers!
or read it on AO3.
~*~
The reoccurring kind
Steve still dreams of this sometimes, the whisper-soft touch of Bucky's lips on his skin, followed by the rough brush of his stubble or the wet velvet of his tongue. He used to wake up hard and aching after those dreams, frustrated and desperate and angry and sad all at once over something he wanted more than anything and knew he would never--could never--have, thanks to society, his health, the war--and once he'd had it, never have again, thanks to the ice, HYDRA, the Accords.
He has it now. Bucky is warm and solid in bed with him, acres of bare skin begging for the touch of Steve's hands and mouth. He still has to fight the urge sometimes to break away and pick up a charcoal--has done it occasionally and they've both ended up smudged and gray in places charcoal probably wasn't ever meant to be. Luckily, skin is easy to wash clean, and the serum gave him an eidetic memory, so he can always draw Bucky later.
Bucky's mouth finds a nipple and sucks, and Steve jolts out of his head and back into his body, suddenly aware of every livewire nerve under his skin.
"There you are," Bucky murmurs against his chest, and Steve runs a hand over his hair, his cheek, his red, swollen lips. Bucky sucks Steve's thumb into the wet heat of his mouth, and Steve's cock, already hard and aching to be touched, twitches. He can feel Bucky's lips curve into a smug smile before he lets Steve's thumb slip out. "You're so easy, Rogers."
"For you, yeah," Steve answers hoarsely. "Always." Letting Bucky love him is one of the few easy things he's ever done.
Bucky continues kissing his way down Steve's body while Steve squirms and writhes in blissful expectation. He wants this teasing to go on forever and he wants more, everything, Bucky inside and around him until nothing else exists but the two of them and they've almost become one.
Bucky nuzzles at the crease of Steve's thigh, licks a wet stripe up the underside of his cock and the presses a kiss to the tip, lapping at the precome pearling there. He sucks the head into his mouth and lightning shoots down Steve's spine.
Bucky's new vibranium hand, a matte black Steve probably shouldn't find as attractive as he does, holds Steve's hip in place while his other hand slips down to play with Steve's balls. Steve arches up but not hard enough to break Bucky's hold on him (he could, he knows, but he doesn't mind being held down when it's his choice to stay there), and Bucky laughs, low and throaty.
The vibration shudders through him and Steve can't keep his eyes open. "Jerk," he manages, and he can feel the way Bucky's mouth curves into that grin again before he raises his head and tips Steve an exaggerated wink.
"You wouldn't have me any other way."
"I can think of a few ways I'd like you right now," Steve replies with a wicked grin of his own. His face is hot and his chest is flushed, but he feels another wave of heat rising through him. He's never been any good at talking dirty, but he's also never been afraid to go after what he wants, even if he's had to use his body instead of his words to get it.
"You do, do you?"
Steve takes the metal hand at his hip, the one Bucky tries to be so gentle with, and brings it to his lips. He knows Bucky can't feel anything but pressure, but Bucky's eyes narrow, intrigued.
"I do." He reaches out clumsily for the tube of astroglide on the bedside table, flicks it open and squeezes some onto Bucky's metal fingers.
"Your ideas have some merit," Bucky admits gravely, as if his whole body isn't quivering with as much anticipation and desire as Steve's. He switches hands, gives Steve's cock a rough jerk with his right hand while his left works Steve open, slowly and methodically despite Steve's bitten off curses and pleas for him to hurry it up.
"I'm good, Buck. I'm ready. I'm so ready," he says, reaching out with grabby hands at Bucky's hips. There was a time he might have felt ashamed of how needy he is, how desperately hungry for the feel of Bucky's cock inside him, but that time is long gone, it's just one more thing he took into the ice and didn't bring back out with him.
He knows, now, the kinds of things to be ashamed or afraid of, and loving Bucky, wanting him and needing him, is not going to be one of them ever again. He still flushes with heat though when Bucky murmurs, "Yeah, you really are," against his jaw before giving him a wet, open-mouthed kiss that sucks all the air from his lungs.
He's still panting raggedly when Bucky shoves into him with a snap of his hips that more than satisfies Steve's need to feel him deep inside. Bucky sets a furious pace and Steve curls one arm around Bucky's shoulder and uses the other to grab the headboard. The bed is reinforced, built for two supersoldiers to sleep and fuck and roughhouse in, but it still creaks a little under the onslaught of Bucky's hips.
Steve loves it when Bucky's rough with him, when the finger-shaped bruises on his hips don't fade in minutes and he can still feel every inch of Bucky inside him for hours. Bucky is always so gentle and sweet afterwards, and he's stopped looking startled and shamed at the bruises and bite marks he leaves on Steve's skin. After all, he loves it when Steve returns the favor, strength against strength in a fight they both always win.
Steve's whole body is aflame with pleasure. He gasps into Bucky's mouth and arches up as his orgasm slams into him, fireworks exploding white behind his eyelids. He clamps down hard and feels Bucky come deep inside him with a shudder and a stuttering jerk of his hips.
They collapse into a sticky, sated heap and Steve sighs when Bucky slides out. He still feels open and needing to be filled. Sometimes they don't separate for hours; the serum providing a minimal refractory period and Steve's ever-present desire doing the rest.
Bucky peppers his face with kisses. "You want more, don't you?" he murmurs and Steve hums in agreement.
"I could do this all day."
Bucky laughs, low and filthy, a promise that round two is about to begin.
end
~*~
Feedback is adored.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/853552.html.
people have commented there.