Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Where’s your car?” 

Bucky’s voice makes Steve’s body respond by jumping about a foot in the air. Floods of anxiety pouring into his veins from his brain but the amused chuckle he gets from Bucky quells it as soon as it starts. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, but yeah. How’d you get here?” He drawls, appearing to stand in front of him, an air of ease around him that screams something- something… good. Steve likes it. His demeanor. 

He’s got a bag thrown over one of his shoulders and his hair is free from it’s ponytail, brushing his collarbones in gorgeous disarray. He also changed out plain black shirt - accompanied with his name tag - for a looser shirt. It’s white and flowy, nearly see-through and under a leather jacket. He’s wearing the same skinny-fit black, distressed jeans. He looks exactly like the kind of guy people like to assume Steve is based on his on-paper details: six two, two hundred and twenty pounds, owner of a motorcycle, freelance artist, and all that jazz. 

Steve stumbles uselessly through explaining that he didn’t actually drive here. He left his motorcycle at home, in his apartment’s parking complex, because all of his friends and colleagues know it. They all can recognize him by it and he (as embarrassing as it is) really didn’t want them to see it outside an adult store.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise when he mentions his motorcycle, like he either wasn’t expecting that or is trying to refrain from making an inappropriate riding joke, but he doesn’t actually say anything about it. Instead he offers, “you took the bus? Aw, Stevie, that's cute." 

Steve huffs despite himself, he doesn't want to be made fun of- not ever. 

But especially not by this extremely attractive stranger who may or may not be taking him to bed. 

"Oh, hey, no. Not like that. That's just… it's thoughtful.” He thinks a moment about his own words before continuing, “a deviant like myself doesn't care.” He sounds a little too proud about it, but, whatever. “I'll tell my friends that I'm leaving parties to get laid. Without them asking. I don't care who knows when I'm horny."

Steve turns bright red, he knows it from the heat blasting his cheeks and the impulsive way his lips fall open. He can’t think of any response and Bucky doesn’t ask for one.

Bucky’s car is unremarkable because Steve wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about it other than it’s black because he isn’t paying any attention. All he is paying attention to or thinking about is the palm cupping the small of his back. Leading him away from the blank, bland outside of the shop to the car parked around back. Bucky’s palm. Hot and heavy over his back in the same way that Steve has done for women that he’s dated and… jesus. Shivers shimmy up Steve’s spine as he slides into the passenger seat, nearly hitting his head on the top of the car, forgetting how to coordinate himself. 

Bucky shuts his door for him, walking around to the other side and getting in with a lot more finesse that Steve has ever had.  

The door to Bucky’s place slams shut and Steve is slammed against it. 

The handle of his bag of recently bought items gets crushed in his fist, his shoes make a squeak against the wooden floors because he still has them on, and his whole being is still unprepared for it. 

He’ll blame the gasp that worms it’s way out of him on the unpreparedness too because he is not prepared for Bucky’s palms, warm and pushy, to land on his chest after sliding up his sides, shivers rising in the wake of his fingers. Squeezing his pecs through his shirt Bucky’s mouth finds his jaw, brushing the skin electrically as he gropes him, groaning, “been wanting to touch you since I first saw you,” Steve flushes, his breathing stopping and starting like it used to when he was on the edge of an asthma attack, “I’m not into women,” Bucky whispers, smug, “and therefore not crazy about tits- but yours, sweetheart…”  

Steve’s hearing dips down, fading to white noise.

He doesn’t hear the rest of Bucky’s sentence, the rest of his actual fucking dirty talk , he just feels his chest flare with heat. Arousal and embarrassment bubbling in his belly. His brain fills in the gaps of what he doesn’t hear as it receives all of the pinches of pleasure and pain coming from his pecs at the mercy of Bucky’s eager hands. 

“Can I kiss you?” The brunette’s voice filters back into his head. Steve nods, not stopping to think about it because, yes, duh, leaning forward into his mouth because he can do that. He can kiss. He knows… he knows how to do that. 

Kissing a man is different. Yet. It’s also the same. 

Bucky’s lips are soft and full and don’t feel any different from how any of the women's lips he’s gotten the pleasure of kissing do. His tongue doesn’t feel any different- it’s deliciously hot and wet as it slips into his mouth. Pulling a hum from his chest. His skin is sinfully soft and- he must’ve shaved this morning, b ut… with all of that same there’s differences too.  

His waist feels different when Steve brings up his unoccupied hand up to hold onto him and draw him in closer. It’s trimmer and he can feel the lack of hips but the addition of muscle. Bucky is all hard planes, lean and strong. And his technique is also different. Everything about his mouth may not feel any different but he kisses differently. He kisses like he’s attacking him. Not just being an active participant but also actively looking to control the kiss. He’s never had a woman do that to him and maybe that’s more on him for inadvertently choosing women who prefer to submit in the bedroom but… 

God.  

It’s making him dizzy. 

It’s making him relax and just let Bucky do what he wants to him. It’s making him forget to think. It’s making his own technique fly out the window. It’s making him grateful for the door to his back because he certainly outweighs Bucky and his knees are going weak. It’s making him even harder. 

Bucky swallows his moan and dives forward for more, cupping the back of his neck and bodily pressing him harder into the door. Trapping his other hand between their chests which- interest and want floods Steve’s veins at the feel of his chest, flat and hard, against his. 

He pulls away, “you’re a lot more submissive than I thought you’d be,” he murmurs the words against his mouth, approval leaking into his voice. Steve feels half suffocated in the best fucking way. 

His world is spinning too fast for him to be embarrassed about that particular comment. He just pants and spits out, “huh?”

Bucky smirks, staying silent but stepping back and grabbing for his bag full of toys, taking it out of the death grip he’s got on it and discarding his own, dropping it onto the floor. Taking his hand and looking him straight in the eyes as he says, “you, blondie, are a big guy.” Steve nods, letting Bucky turn and tug him through the unfamiliar surrounding, assumedly towards his bedroom, “so when you blurted out that you’re bi only recently discovered that I figured you were going to gravitate towards wanting to top. Most guys do.” 

Steve gets shoved back against another wall. This one is part of Bucky’s hallway. 

“And so far,” his finger pokes him straight in the chest, calling attention to how hard he’s breathing already and how it’s only getting worse- being pressed against and cornered how he is. Bucky flicks his eyes slowly up from his chest to look at him, fluttering his lashes like a pro, raising Steve’s blood pressure, “you have just let me push around. And you like it. You’re not just letting it happen because you don’t know what to do ‘cause I’ve got a dick not a pussy,” Steve swallows, the way he sounds has his heart beating faster. Accusatory and blunt and sexy.

“That’s not very top or dom-like of you, Steve.” 

A small noise cuts out of his lips at the last part of the other man’s impromptu speech. He doesn't know why. It just punches the air from his lungs.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s loud enough for Bucky to hear until he leans forward and kisses him like he’s trying to kill him. He only sees a sliver of the hunger inhabiting his eyes before he’s drowning in his own arousal, shutting his eyes on instinct. Bucky nips his lower lip so he’ll open his mouth. Steve does as he nonverbally asks - again unthinkingly just letting it happen on account of instincts that he didn’t know he had - and is rewarded with the toe-curling feeling of Bucky’s smart tongue slipping into his mouth. Claiming him and stealing his breath. 

“Mm,” Bucky hums into his mouth. The vibrations awaken his nerves even more.

They stumble through the blur of the rest of Bucky’s apartment, a couple of crashes here and there insinuating that things get broken or displaced. It doesn’t matter. The rest of the world is blotted out from Steve’s awareness. 

All he can get his head around is Bucky’s lips, his taste, and his feel and his smell and he can barely get around that itself. Bucky is gorgeous but his eyes are shut the whole time because it’s all he can do to absorb the other sensations, he can’t add another to the mix. He has to… has to-

His need and heat is chilled slightly by the sudden claws of fear gripping his ribcage as he’s tossed onto Bucky’s bed, his muscles all tense, arms flying out to the sides to attempt to break his fall but the mattress does it for him. Making him bounce on the cushion of his bed and yelp without meaning. Bucky just chuckles, the sound worms its way under his skin, lighting him up and darkening him too. He’s standing up over him and staring. 

Steve suddenly feels for every ant he ever pinned under a magnifying glass as a child while exploring the great outdoors. 

Bucky’s smoky, hungry eyes are dragging over him intensely. From his feet to his face as he strips himself of his jacket, making him want to squirm and wiggle away at the same time that it makes him harder. His pulse beating like a hammer against his ribs and beginning to thrum through all the rest of his body too. Sensation heightening- feeling like prey but… he’s not scared. Not really. He’s just. Just… really hard.

And h e really wants Bucky to touch him too. 

Steve has never felt such strong lust towards anyone, it’s frighteningly erotic. He’s never- never felt like this. He’s never had such a, a primal pull to anyone he’s slept with or seen in porn. And it’s addicting. The feeling. 

Bucky takes one last look at him and dumps the bag of sex toys out onto his bed and Steve ascends to being nothing but embarrassment wrapped in the shape of his own body. 

It feels shockingly different to see them on such an intimate plane as where Bucky sleeps and, uhh, doesn’t sleep. The messy sheets of his bed obscure parts of the packages and toys from his eyes when he tosses his head to the side, trying, in vain, to get away from the image that he’s certainly going to be recalling later for reasons- the image of Bucky looming over him, devouring him with his eyes and coming closer. Getting onto the bed to settle between his legs as his hands shoot to one of the things he bought, lips shaping the stupidly smooth words of- “w anna walk through your loot again, Stevie?"

Steve wants no such thing. He might die if they do such a thing and... he can't orgasm in the afterlife as far as he knows. He wants to get off. As soon as possible. 

Fingers trace his jaw, coaxing him back to looking at him once more without even asking him. Steve feels like he’s been hypnotized. 

Bucky is smiling way too brightly and innocently considering that he's talking about sex toys. He doesn’t even look- he just… he doesn’t look like he’s at all aware of the fact that what he’s talking about makes Steve want to melt into the mattress from mortification. Mortification that’s also giving him a boner along with his internal screaming. 

So- that’s a thing. A thing about himself. That he didn't know. No big deal. 

Bucky is oblivious or mercifully glossing over his predicament. Steve doesn’t know which option is better. 

His eyes and then hands find the second butt plug that he showed him back at the store, not the one he convinced him to buy by talking about how soft and beginner friendly it is, about how good it would feel inside of him, but the one that is still beginner friendly just. With a kick. The kick being that it's a vibrator too. Still small and soft but with vibrations and a spread handle on the end rather than a ring, making it look like an upside down 't'. Instantly as Bucky flashes Steve a devious grin he’s taking it out of the package and , yeah, why wouldn’t he also be very familiar with getting sex toys out of their packaging when he also knows everything else about them?, Steve shrugs mentally, shaky amusement settling in his chest. 

Bucky discards all the plastic and paper and holds it back up for him to see. In the regular daylight of Bucky’s bedroom it somehow looks a hell of a lot more obscene. More intimidating. More blatant and less private. 

“Do you wanna try your new toy? This new toy?"  

He almost sounds like he could be talking to a dog, excited and cheery. Steve’s dick certainly responds to the question like a dog hearing the sound of kibble hitting the bowl - announcing dinner like a bell - by twitching in his pants. 

Bucky leans in close, moving like a big cat on the hunt, prowling up over his body. Dropping the butt plug off to the side of his head with a muffled sound, speaking into his jaw, teasingly dragging out- “it's pretty small but I can't imagine it'll feel that way when we finally squeeze it into your little hole, huh? ‘Cause it’s never had much in it. Ain’t that right?" More shivers claim Steve’s muscles as their own, puppeting him as arousal spreads to every corner of his being. Stretching out and getting comfortable because it’s clear that he’s going to be here for a while. He’s never- never been in a situation like this. 

But he wishes he had been. Before. 

He wishes with everything inside of him that he figured his sexuality faster because, fuck, this is what he could’ve been doing? With Bucky? Listening to Bucky? Feeling him? Touching him? His brain kind of wants to blurt that thought- those thoughts out to Bucky but he’s also not confident that he won’t just end up making more, uhh, sounds. Embarrassing sounds. 

Either way, Bucky’s lips then lock onto his, shutting him up for the moment before he peels back and keeps going. Sitting up and continuing to melt his brain into a slushy mess, “yeah… gotta work you up to takin' bigger, better things,” he murmurs, switching it on and feeling the vibrations on the tips of his fingers. Pushing the tip of the toy into his own flesh. Testing it out. Just the sound of it has Steve's embarrassment rising, threatening to swallow him whole. 

He’d like for Bucky to swallow him whole. 

And, well, it seems like that’s definitely going to happen with the wolfish look on his handsome face and the brash, confidence dripping from him. It’s all making Steve drip in general, his cock is so hard and throbbing pretty much constantly, turning him into a puddle of a man. Gripping the sheets for stability, feeling phantom hands pinning him down. 

"It's got three speeds, which- again, is good for a beginner.” Steve doesn’t want to be anything other than a beginner in Bucky’s gorgeous, predatory eyes. He wants… he wants things. He wants so much.

“Please,” his own voice echoes back to his own ears, too high and too desperate for what he’s used to hearing, begging for Bucky, “pl-please sir!” Begging for the man standing behind the desk that Steve works from in his own home, his own apartment, but it’s Bucky’s then. He commands the room. He commands Steve. It’s Bucky’s desk in that moment because Bucky is dressed in clothes, a sharp suit, and… he’s not. Not really. He’s in shorts that are around his ankles with his socks and pulled down underwear and his shirt has been shoved down to his wrists, behind his back, his tie thrown off to the side somewhere. Bucky’s pretty fingers are wrapped around one of those things that he’s seen in… in, in porn... a riding crop! That’s it. Bucky has a riding cop and he’s hitting it against the palm of his other hand like it’s a ruler. “That’s cute Stevie but… you could do better.” He approaches him, dragging the riding crop over his chest, his pecs, “don’t worry I’ll teach you to do better.” 

Steve is knocked back from the obscenely vulgar image unfolding in his mind’s eye by Bucky’s voice, playfully asking him if he’s listening still and, fuck, he’s not that innocent… he knows what roleplaying is but he… he’s never, never wanted it before. 

Swallowing Steve uncertainty chokes out, “I-I’m listening.” 

Bucky hums, tapping the toy to his palm just like his fantasy counterpart was just seconds ago. Hungrily Steve watches his hands, tracking the phallic shape and trying to breath normally. “I don’t think you were but-” the authority in his voice has his eyes snapping up but he’s staring at his dick. Steve whines in the back of his throat, he knows he’s hard already, of course, but he didn’t notice how much he was throbbing before that second. “Oh, well.” 

A second of silence feels like a year. 

The urge to confess to what he was thinking about - having Bucky play his teacher, his headmaster, his… his superior - is there on the tip of his tongue but it dies before it can hit his lips. Humiliation is too strong of a snake winding around his chest, tightening and killing his ability to speak. 

Bucky sighs and flicks the vibrations back on but then thinks better of it. Saliva pools illogically in his mouth, he doesn’t even know what it feels like and yet- he wants it. He sets it to the side and Steve tries, he really does, to not follow it but he does. The plug gets set down next to him, then Bucky grabs the hem of his shirt, not pulling but lifting. Steve nods. Bucky rucks it up to his collarbones. He doesn’t take it off of him. Bucky pushes the tip of the toy between his pecs, touching the flattest part of his chest. 

Impulsively Steve sucks in a breath, mortified but then the vibrations sink into his skin, shaking his muscles and bones apart and it’s just like having a massage. And so it shouldn’t be electric lightning down his spine.

But it is. 

“Three levels,” Bucky reminds him, tracing mindless shapes over his skin for no discernible reason, “and they’re all really soft.” 

Then, as if to prove his point, Bucky pushes the button on the bottom again and again. Switching it up to high as he draws a sideways parentheses that follows the bottom of his right pec. Static curls inside Steve, making his finger curl into the sheets, he honestly doesn’t know if it’s because it feels good or if he does it because of anticipation. Bucky hums happily, giving his other pec the same treatment, “but it’s not like you need much to cream yourself,” Steve is the color of a fucking firetruck, “nothing too hard for your virgin hole. Just low, medium, and high. High is normally hard-" he purrs out like the innuendo isn't already obvious. 

Steve is ready to climb out of his skin. He’s not- not fucking doing anything but his chest is hot and buzzing. It feels good, like the feeling as a limb falls asleep, static-y, but nice. 

“Don’t worry about the high setting though,” Bucky tells him, as if he’s currently capable of worrying about anything at all, “the ‘hard’ vibrations for this toy, when it’s on high, it’s hard at all.” Steve isn’t breathing anymore. “It wouldn't even feel like anything if you put it into me," he winks, Steve moans. The vibrations of the toy are circling tighter and closer around his nipple, "you could take me out for dinner and leave it on and I'd hardly notice.” Steve has no fucking clue about what to do with that information. 

Suddenly the tip of the plug is right on his nipple. Not hovering in circles around it. Vibrating and sending sharp waves of pleasure through his chest, cutting into him and stopping his heart. A whine gets punched out of his gut. His body explodes into flames, melting him down further. 

And it’s not until Bucky pulls it away that he realizes what happened. 

His eyes flick open and panting breathes slide recklessly out of his parted lips accompanied with more whines now and again. Bucky is staring at him. Hungry, looking larger than life with such power resting in his hands- the power of making him feel so much pleasure so suddenly that it’s ungodly.  

“So. Do you want it?" 

He sounds a lot more ragged and aroused than he did previously. It doesn’t help tame his temptation. 

Heaving in a breath Steve uses the heat coursing through him, firing through his veins and arteries, to unfreeze himself. He shakes his head or he tries to, his head is already kind of spinning with Bucky’s words. Current and past but, mostly past. “But I, personally, really would like to show you something else.” If that means what he thinks it means… Steve shudders.

Bucky tips his head to the side as he leans in, Steve is sure that he knows exactly what he’s thinking, “okay, for a later time then."

Promptly throwing himself into locating the next item that he already convinced Steve to buy but seems intent to convince him again, throwing himself into an even dirtier explanation, scanning the bed. Making a little aha! sound when he sees what he’s looking for. 

He lunges up and over Steve. His shirt hangs down enough to brush Steve’s nose and forehead and if this were normal he’d lean up and press his lips to Bucky’s warm stomach and the siren of his skin call while he can but… he’s not sure he can move. He feels frozen in place. More like you’re not sure if Bucky wants you to move and therefore you’re not going to move his brain chides him. Grabbing the sheets harder and then letting them go, he flexes his fingers, restless but trying not to look like it. 

More plastic crinkles and shifts, doing its own screaming. 

Bucky sits back how he was before. 

He no longer has the plug in his hands. 

Instead, he has the nipple clamps dangling by their simple, delicate looking chain from his pointer finger. His shoulders are squared and his posture straight, desire lurks in his eyes, darkening the greyish pools. His legs, with a mind of their own, slide together, stopped only by Bucky’s body between his thighs. 

“Don’t be scared,” Bucky soothes him gently, fisting the clamps instead of letting them hang freely. Steve feels their pain, he feels like he’s rapidly being swept from dangling free and being squeezed from head to toe, pressure and anticipation making up every part of him. 

The metal and rubber of them is cold on his flushed chest when Bucky sets them down on him with a little thunk that makes his dick jump. The cold is a shock but he’s not sure why or how it’s enough to make him twitch like that. Bucky makes a noise of recognition but otherwise does nothing but look at him and he’s back to being a bug under a magnifying glass. 

“Any of your gals ever touch your tits when you were railing them? Or was it just you lovin’ on them?" 

Oh. 

The words hit Steve like a punch to the gut except it’s not painful, it’s just force. Force that knocks the wind out of his lungs and ignites his nerves that had been sprinkled with a fine dusting of gunpowder so they can all explode at once. A wave of fire being awakened and pushed through him from his toes to his head. 

Steve shakes his head stiffly. 

His nipples are hard and peaked and he knows that feeling but he’s never known the feeling of them aching to be touched just like how his cock is beginning to ache. Thrumming under his skin and reminding him that he needs more. More pleasure. More stimulation. More. 

Bucky’s fingers play with the hem of his shirt, moving the fabric farther up, exposing more of his chest without actually getting him naked, “now that's a shame," he clicks his tongue. 

“Ha-!” Steve gasps, all air and shock. Bucky’s fingers aren’t cold on his nipples but they are unexpected and solid. And, “oh,” they feel really good. 

Like… really good.  

His fingertips do something that lights his chest on fire and makes him gasp again, arching up into it because that seems like the only option but then Bucky’s moving and pulling away. Dragging the chill of the metal against his skin, setting the clamps by his nipples without attaching them to him and telling him, “these here are good nipple clamps, beginner level because they’re adjustable. They're not too unlike having somebody's fingers pinching you, not too hard, y’know? But also you could make them clamp harder. If you ask nicely,” he laughs lightly at his own joke, comparing a person’s fingers to the clamps, personifying them as he runs his finger back and forth over the chain between the clamps. 

His skin breaks out into goosebumps. The hair on his arms and back of his neck rising. 

“They’re alligator clamps, adjustable ones, metal except where they’re supposed to be pinching you so it’s obvious what to do with them and so it’s even more comfortable,” he lifts them up, waving them directly in front of his face. Tapping the black rubber over silver metal, “see? Makes ‘em soft," he sighs, putting them down and setting them aside, "like you," he croons, brushing his thumbs over his nipples gently. 

Steve’s breathing goes haywire again, stifling a gasp. He didn't think it'd feel that different to have someone else touch him like that but- god. 

"Too bad you didn't come and see me earlier… coulda had these while you were taking other people apart. Drooling and fucking yourself mindlessly in and out of them. Coulda’ asked her to tug on the chain a little too but…” he glides his eyes over his chest easily, Steve squirms under the heat, “I’m not sure you’d need the extra help." 

Steve cannot imagine the overwhelming sensation that he's being presented with and more or less told to imagine. The hot, wet, tight feel of someone around him, letting him into their body, while his own body is also being constrained and held? All that pleasure that had sparked through him like a flamethrower to a matchstick forest just from one touch on top of all the pleasure of fucking someone? He would just die. 

"What a picture," Bucky exhales wistfully, like he's imagining it in his head too. "Those aren't too fancy, other than the fact that they’re stupidly easy to adjust,” he nods over to the clamps, “they're not weighted, they won’t squeeze tighter just by pulling the chain, they’re not tweezers, not clover style, and they sure as hell don't vibrate-” Steve’s head spins, Bucky’s moving to fast for him to linger on one thing and so he just simmers, bouncing from one erotic idea to the next like a maniac. A horny maniac, “they won't do anything but make your nips all sensitive and pink and perky. Well… even more perky," he chuckles, patting his pec, just this side of slapping him. Steve moans and pushes up into his palms, still torn between pleasure and arousal versus embarrassment- more leaning to pleasure by a huge margin now. 

"Whaddya say, Stevie? Wanna see how perky and pink your tits can get?" 

Steadying his metaphorical feet under him, Steve takes a moment, feeling both like he’s on the deck of an out to sea ship and on a children’s merry-go-round, staring at the sky. Letting the brunette’s words filter into his brain. 

His mouth is watering with temptation but he resists, shaking his head silently. Unwilling and unable to voice what he really wants.

"'Kay, how 'bout this?" Bucky says, not deterred in the slightest. 

Feeling tipsy, bordering on drunk, Steve lifts his head, blinking his eyes open slowly and finding that he’s holding the prostate massager that he talked him into buying even though he’d honestly never even heard of that type of toy before. His salacious descriptions of the toy and how fast and intensely it'll make most guys cum had been too much for the weak, weak man that he is. 

He pauses now, unsure if he should answer or wait for him to give him his sales pitch on it.

Bucky smirks, loving that he's waiting. Enjoying himself,  "I'd love to use this on you if you'd let me," he purrs, leaning in and cupping him through his pants. 

Steve’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his vision fizzling out to black before his eyes can even shut. “Oh- ffuck,” Bucky’s hand is squeezing him just enough to make his pulse pound through his cock. His heart is racing, chest heaving. It feels so good after not getting what he wants. 

It feels so good that he doesn’t even stop to think that there’s another man’s hand on his dick. It’s just natural. It doesn’t even matter. 

“You feel nice and big,” Steve chokes on his own spit, skin hot and nearly itchy without how dirty his words are, “and I bet your balls are full enough, being that big, to make it up to your tits if I use this on you." Steve has never been lightheaded at the same time as blushing as intensely as he is currently before. He didn't know that that could even happen. Isn’t lightheadedness caused when there’s not enough blood to the brain? All of his blood is in his face and groin. Is he just blacked out? Did he actually just faint from being so turned on and all of this is a dream? A very good, very wet, wet dream? 

"Usually all you need is a finger first and then it'll slide right in, I mean, you'll need a finger 'cause you're a baby with anal but, maybe you won't eventually- if you like it enough," he probably winks but Steve is too busy squeezing his eyes shut and trying to keep himself from imploding to know beyond the lilt in his voice, "it's gonna feel so, so good for you. Promise. Touching your prostate with a massager is the best. It empties you out and puts you through the ringer, even a little one like this.” He taps the massager, cold but soft silicone, against his abs, causing his stomach to clench. He’s not sure if he can open his eyes and not cum in his pants just from looking at Bucky wielding such a toy. 

Bucky’s hand leaves him again and this time Steve is too strung out to even try to stifle his whimper of complaint. 

He just laughs, dark and low and everything Steve didn’t know he needed to hear but totally did. It runs over his skin like warm honey, thick and sticky. His dick twitches again in his pants. Bucky’s breathing does something funny but he again offers, “this has three speeds just like that other new toy… feel up to it?"

Steve almost says yes. 

He's so close to saying it, it's on the tip of his tongue. He's so close to telling Bucky to take him apart with the massager and make him cum until he can’t anymore. To see what it feels like to have his balls emptied and spilled all over his own skin because he can’t stop himself and he’s got no control because he’s given it all away… he’s so close to gasping and pleading for it. 

But he doesn’t say yes. 

Because if it really is that intense then surely he wouldn't feel like being… like being- like, like having Bucky show him “something else.” And. That’s the goal. That’s what he really wants. So-

Steve flicks his eyes open and Bucky is there, of course, “n-no… I-” 

“No?” Bucky widens his eyes, making himself look innocent despite his obscene lips and their pout and the filth that's been spilling out of him. Goading him by breathily asking him, "you don't want to try your massager or nipple clamps or anything you just bought? Why not? None of it’s that scary or even kinky really.”

"I, I. I-" Steve sputters, making even more useless sounds when he runs out of self blaming syllables. Not making a lick of sense, lying prone on Bucky’s bed, his cock aching and throbbing because he’s that fucking hard, wanting nothing more than for Bucky to take his virginity without one ounce of hesitation. He wants this. He just can’t say it. 

Bucky takes pity on him before his embarrassment can consume him, leaning in closer than he has ever before, caging him in against the mattress. Hands on either side of his head, breath sweeping his face, body laid out over top of his from tip to tail. Heat and electricity crackles through the air between their mouths as Bucky whispers, “is it 'cause you wanna get fucked instead, Stevie?”  

He teases expertly. Only letting their lips brush slightly, close but not close enough. 

Steve makes a high, feminine involuntary sound that he's never come close to making before, breaching his lips as the arousal in his body spills over to the thick, sensual atmosphere between them. Excitement and quivering anticipation pouring thick into his veins and clouding his brain. Making it hard to think and even just to breathe. Bucky kisses him, stealing air and another reedy moan from inside of him, replacing it with churning, molten lust. 

The second he pulls away he’s ducking down to growl into his ear, rasping, “yeah- that’s it. You want me to fuck you. Not help you use your toys.”

Arching his neck, throwing his head back with a gasp, Bucky plants a slick, hot kiss just under his ear makes it hard for him to nod but he tries anyway. Enthusiastically. Shivers attack him all the while. Flames lick up his legs too causing him to start sweating. Frantically he keeps nodding, unsure if Bucky’s noticed or not. 

The pressure of his weight and his dick specifically pressing into him unlocks some primal desperation. He moans again, moving his hips up into Bucky. It’s not hard. Bucky’s not bigger than him. He could probably lift him up easily if Bucky let hi-

Bucky shakes his head, resting his forehead on the junction between his shoulder and neck, rasping, “stop that.” Breathless and yummy. 

Something deep in Steve’s chest breaks. He drops back onto the bed, instantly stilling, a flood of something rushing under his skin. It feels like… like adrenaline but not. His body feels shaky and weak under the weight of whatever the feeling is. It’s good. Very good. 

“Good boy,” Bucky sighs, chuckling a little and pecking his cheek, raising swarms of butterflies with flaming wings throughout his entire body, “but I need words, Stevie.” His voice slips back to that highly inappropriate instructor tone once more, twisting up Steve’s insides, “consent should at least be verbal, y’know?”

Steve whines, exhaling shakily. 

“I know,” Bucky hushes, “I know,” he drags a finger down his throat, “tell me I can have you.” 

“Yes. Please.”   It falls out of him so easily that Steve has a second to wonder how the fuck he had trouble say it before that second when he did. Bucky licks his lips, smirking not for show or for teasing but smirking with his lips parted, desire plainly overtaking him. Eyelids heavy, eyes dark, cheeks pinked, fingers clenching his shoulder. 

It’s so intoxicating to see him like that that he says it again, head reeling, “yes, yeah. Buck, please.”

Bucky swallows thickly, kissing him like his life depends on it and dragging the words, “huh, look at that. Your mother did raise a gentleman after all,” over his cheek and jaw when he’s done claiming his mouth. Steve shudders hard enough to jostle Bucky too, embarrassment either getting confused with arousal in his body or embarrassment becoming the same thing as arousal. 

Bucky sweeps the sex toys and their packaging off of the bed in one grand gesture, throwing them over the edge to the floor of his room and quieting the look that he’s sure graces his face with mumbled words between kisses, telling him about how they need to be washed before using them anyway. Straight out of the package or not. 

Steve doesn’t care. Not right then. He’ll ask later if he remembers to. He’ll ask for a demonstration on how to clean them too because maybe if they’re clean they’ll really get to use them. Maybe. 

If they can keep from doing other things. 

The second he’s done with a half-hearted explanation he’s breaking away - a string of saliva connecting their mouths - and getting his hands on his hips. Ripping his pants open and tugging them just down to his upper thighs before he can’t seem to resist dragging his hands over his currently extra tight boxer briefs. Steve moans, feeling his dick twitch and start to leak. Aching like a cracked tooth still sitting in his jaw. Bucky mumbles something about getting his mouth on him but Steve’s brain must white most of the comment out to save himself from cumming at the thought.

“Ugh, fuck-” 

“You alright there?” Bucky teases, chuckling and sounding more and more unhinged. 

Apparently the look on his face is enough to tell the story of what’s happening inside him, chaotic and needy, because Bucky quickly moves on. Suggesting that he get himself out of his shirt while he works on his pants. 

Steve hears more than one or two seams scream their complaint as he untangles the fabric of his shirt from around his shoulders and collarbones just to tear it over his head, hands fumbling with his excitement. Bucky has his pants off seconds later. Leaving him in his socks and underwear and nothing else. 

His eyes are cool in color normally but they’re black now, burning holes through him, devouring all of the skin that’s now on display for just him. A full body flush creeps up after his gaze as if he’s looking at him so hotly that he’s being burnt from it and, well, he is gorgeous enough for Steve to feel like he’s looking at the sun when he sees him. So maybe it’s accurate. Steve squirms, reaching for the elastic band of his boxers with a particularly needy sound that he’s not sure he could repeat if he tried. 

Bucky stops him, mumbling, “no, let me.” 

Bending forward as he speaks, lips loose and soft as he mouths at his hip. Steve’s toes curl and “Buck-” falls from his lips, riding on a gasp in order to escape. His mouth is hot and good. He just barely greets the dull feeling of his teeth dragging over his skin with a full-body shiver by the time that it’s gone.

But then his teeth are being put to a better use when Steve risks a glance down at Bucky. 

He’s pulling his boxers down with his mouth. 

“Oh, god,” Steve hears himself say, whiny and with shaky amusement, feeling stupid for being so turned on. All they’ve done is talk. Bucky has barely touched him at all. He thunks his head back down onto the mattress, unable to take looking at Bucky doing that without blowing his load in his underwear like a teenager. 

Spare kisses are pressed sloppily to his inner thighs once Bucky is done with his boxers and socks, both thrown off to the void of the rest of his room. Nothing matters but Bucky and he’s still wearing all of his clothes. And why exactly is he? Steve thinks, lunging forward shakily to get his hands on him, needing some sort of release because his hot, slick lips only do so much for him when they’re only on his thighs. He’s pent up, aching, and desperate for things to move forward. 

Bucky lets him get his shirt off but bats his hands away when he goes to touch his chest. 

Steve is a little ashamed to say that he actually, full-out whines when he gets pushed back to the mattress, hand in the middle of his chest, because he wants to touch. 

He wants to know that Bucky is breathing just as hard. He wants to know that he’s sweating just as much. He wants to know that he’s just as hard by feeling him. He wants it all. 

But he shuts himself up when Bucky’s hand retreats, instantly getting placed on his fly instead; undoing his belt and pants much more efficiently then they would’ve done together, four hands would be too greedy and wanting, fumbling inefficiently.   

Bucky gets up from the bed to take his pants the rest of the way off and Steve follows, propping himself up on his elbows as he shucks the fabric down his gorgeous thighs. Toeing off his shoes and hooking off his socks when he gets them down to his ankles. Unfairly attractive as he does it. His skirt is whipped off just as fast and Steve had sort of assumed - reading about guys first times with men after they’re used to being with women - that he would freak out. Just a little. Staring at another man naked, or mostly naked, with intentions that he’s never had before. But that’s just it…

All he can do is stare.    

He can’t freak out because he’s just, just absorbing. Just looking. Not thinking about how different Bucky looks to a woman, not at all. He’s just- just there. Right there. 

His thighs are thick and muscular compared to the rest of his build. Gorgeous. His shoulders are wide, tapering down to his thick waist. His body is overwhelmingly stunning. The brunette just- lean. All legs and he’s not as hairy as Steve imagined (and when was he thinking about Bucky’s body hair?) and his abs aren’t super model defined because he’s not one hundred percent muscle anyway, Steve couldn’t care less, he’d probably be a little freaked out if he looked like that because photoshop is- 

Bucky chuckles, lips upturned by his reaction, speaking for the fact that he’s not so arrogant that he wasn’t invested in what Steve would think of him. Of him being naked. His naked body.

Saliva floods his mouth, he wants to lick him, his pale but golden skin is glimmering with traces of sweat already. He wants to feel his chest again his and, and- 

“You better shut your mouth,” he climbs back up onto the bed, “before you start drooling, sweetheart,” the last words are whispered, he’s close enough for Steve to still hear them though. 

Steve could blame the shivers that attack him on the fact that he’s naked and maybe a little cold or… he could just admit that he’s hard enough to scratch diamonds and still leaking over his tummy. He shuts his mouth with an audible click. His toes curl but other than that his body stays frozen. What now? They’re both naked, or, well, he’s naked. Bucky still has his boxers on and, actually, wait-

Bucky’s boxers are tented horribly with his arousal.

His dick is clear as day through the fabric, twitching as Steve’s eyes land on it like it knows it’s being watched. His dick is standing up, barely contained in the fabric, the head just barely covered by his waistband. He looks thick and heavy and- fuck, that’s supposed to go inside me. Gut clenching, fighting the urge to squirm at the thought, Steve also ends up clenching his hole accidentally, like his own body is trying to remind him what he’s doing here and maybe he should be scared because it’s clear that Bucky is above average. Not, like, are you even real or porn advertisement big but. Big. 

And he needs it. 

Hunger is throbbing inside him, in his cock and in his belly and elsewhere. Heat is coursing through him, making his hands shake and sweat slip down his back where it’s pressed against the sheets. 

“You okay?” Bucky brushes a kiss to his lips, his eyes shut automatically, hovering over him, obviously aware of where his eyes were just locked. 

 “You’re-” Steve loses whatever single train of thought he thought he had. 

“We can always use your toys. I don’t have to fuck you, you know that right?” He whispers, soft and not judgmental at all. Handing all the control over the situation over to him.

Steve instantly finds himself blurting out, “no-!" 

There’s a second of shock that flashes through Bucky’s eyes but then… then it’s only lust, darkening his eyes right back to the carnal look they had before. His heart skips a couple beat frantically at the whip-snap change and, nope, nope, nope. Wrong choice of words. He’s alright about to cum if he thinks about Bucky dressed like, like- like he saw in the store. Harnesses and leather and obscene with a whip in his hands-

Fuck. He’s thinking about it anyway. 

“Work with me here,” the brunette coaxes, tapping his side and moving his hand in a few quick circles, bringing him back from his vivid imagination.

Steve flips over onto his tummy for Bucky, doing his best to hide the sharp gasp that bursts out of his throat when his bare cock is pushed electrically into and against the sheets. His hands stay planted on either side of his body as he does it, staying and keeping him caged in while giving him just enough room to move. It doesn’t help keeping Steve from making more noises. And just as he’s about to question the position as his hips are being pulled back and, oh, jesus, there’s Bucky’s cock. Hard and hot and thick and pulsing through his boxers. Pushing into his ass. 

The moan simply escapes him without him thinking. Desperate and loud. 

Bucky groans in response, grinding down a little into him, just enough to push a few breathy cries out of him, little, “oh- oh. Oh!”s as his hips thickly push into him. Fever hot and so good. 

Pleasure drips down his spine filthily. 

Then it stops. And his lower lip trembles with a mind of its own, protesting the cut off of pleasure and then there’s also a pillow under him instead of the mattress because he’s being shoved back down onto the mattress and his head is spinning because what? Why? When? Bucky’s heat fades but his pleasure rises, a tide that’s swelling, sweeping him away and-

“It’ll be easiest like this for your first time,” Bucky says, sounding far away and fuzzy until, “hey-” fingers meanly pinch his side. His voice and subsequent disapproval is clear, chastising him and making his body instinctively shy away; pain sparkling and mingling with the pleasure just under his skin, lighting little fires as it makes its way through his body, “no humping the pillow.” Steve could not be more red if he painted his face. He didn’t- didn’t even… was he really?  

The other man’s calm voice stops his freefall that’s more of a tailspin, “it’s not for getting off with.” 

“What, wh-what’sit for then?” Steve stumbles, trying and failing to cope with the pounding need in his groin, trying to bewitch him into humping the pillow anyway because he’s going to- he’s gonna need- he needs to cum. Soon. Or he’s going to go fucking crazy. 

“It’s for getting this little hole,” he starts, not missing a beat. In fact, he’s beating Steve down into an early grave with the way he drags his hands over his ass before blatantly pushing one of his fingers between his cheeks, circling his rim and making Steve go up in flames like a stricken match. He hadn't realized his own body could be so sensitive before. “Up where I can see it.” 

Bucky’s finger is dry and just circling him, not doing much but it feels like so much, “oh-”

“Yeah.” Steve can hear the grin he’s wearing in his voice, “you taking notes?” 

Jolting with the little series of taps Bucky administers to his hole Steve shakily tries to tease back, “sh-should I b-be?” 

It just comes off only as earnest with the amount of distractions flowing through him. The amount of desire polluting his thoughts and seeping into his blood. 

“Nah,” Bucky pulls away, Steve swallows all the excess saliva in my his mouth and bites his lip at the same time, desperate to keep the wrecked sound he can feel building inside his chest where it is, “I’ll show you as many times as it takes for you to memorize it.” 

The headmaster slash teacher slash whatever-the-fuck fantasy comes back to bite him in the ass: what if he shows you again and again like that until you should’ve memorized and then he makes you do it to him so he can grade you? Determining if you’re good enough at all this to be allowed inside him or not. Cockily stating, head thrown back lazily like he's not enjoying himself at all, “the student has yet to become the master,” chuckling even while he’s got two finger in his body, stretching him out, hot and wet and tight. Steve's vision blurs. Tortured because he’s not going to get to fuck him yet. He knows it in his bones. They both know it. Steve whines, feminine and needy, not fully coming back from his fantasy yet. Too wrapped up in the real and fiction denial, melting into one thing.

“You're not allergic to anything, right? Latex? Plums?” 

“Pl- plums?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky laughs, perfectly at ease, “I bought a sample pack of lubes for the company, my manager asked me to, just to test out before they invest in them, y’know?” Steve does not know. His head is sloshy and too full, thinking about where getting lube means they’re going. Not about investing. “The plum lube is the only one I’ve got left ‘cause I haven’t tried it yet and… I was going to buy more lube after I got off work but someone distracted me.” 

Steve cannot process anything. His brain is useless so he stutters out, "yo u have plum- plum flavored lube?” 

"Scented lube, Stevie,” he emphasizes, lightly hitting his thigh like a rebuke, “not flavored. I wouldn't use flavored lube to go inside somebody. That's how you get weird infections.” Steve doesn’t know whether to laugh or to moan. He’s delighted by Bucky's seemingly endless knowledge of sex and sex toys or sex accessories but it’s also giving him a hard time. Literally. Hearing him talk so candidly about sex is way more arousing then it should be. 

“Anyway- allergies?” 

“No, I- no.”

Bucky stretches out, keeping his dick well above his ass, reaching up to the headboard to grab his lube from under the pillow that he’s not currently ruining by leaking so much, “mmm- good,” he offers. 

The lube gets opened. Steve can hear it behind him. A strange little shiver crawls its way up his spins, normally any time lube is being opened it's because he's opening it. He's the one getting things ready usually. Not because- 

"It's gonna be a little cold," Bucky coos out a warning, "I warmed it up a little, but," Steve can feel his shrug. He nods. And tries to relax. A million articles about how your first time doing anal will feel rocketing through his head. Anticipation thickens under his skin, tightening his gut, and prodding his brain. Reminding him that this is it.  He doesn't let the anxiety sweep him away though.

Oxygen floods his body as he forces himself to take a deep breath, settling into the pillow and the bed to the best of his ability, thinking about ice cream melting on sidewalks in Brooklyn summer weather, trying to embody it. Bucky's fingers dip between his cheeks. Mildly cool and wet. His spine tenses and his cheeks flame, the word intimate bounces around his otherwise empty head. He can't fight or swallow the involuntary gasp that is exhaled from his mouth. His lips stay parted long after he runs out of air. He can't move. Bucky's other hand is stroking from his hip down his thigh. Supporting and soothing while his fingertips trace his rim, dragging over the muscle. Not expecting anything, just… just exploring. 

Steve exhales at the same moment that Bucky breathes, "good, you're doing so good."

Steve believes him wholly.

The lube warms up. Body temperature now. 

The muscles in his thighs tense and pull and suddenly he's spreading his legs for Bucky instinctively, hips tilted up thanks to the pillow, hole loosening as he acclimates to the fingertips stroking his skin- exposing himself to the other man's eyes. Exposing himself for the other man. Steve moans out a lungful of air over the naughty, sensual feel flooding him. He feels, feels-

He wants and he feels wanted.  

He’s- he’s felt wanted before with the looks women have given him, lips parting, tongue peaking out, eyes wide, fingers shaking as they touch reverently, and- he’s been wanted before. But never like this. He’s been wanted as a predator with welcoming prey. But he’s never been prey and it’s… it’s making him, him feel… feel-

He feels sexy. 

Bucky rasps, "yeah?" behind him, his fingertips suddenly carrying a weight behind them, prodding him a little more and lighting up his nerves. It’s like he's peeled back an invisible barrier between his fingers and Steve's skin and, oh, oh- that feels nice. It's, it’s sensitive. Intimate. 

His legs move again without his consent. Spreading until he can feel the pull of desire, his skin's hunger for Bucky’s, as clear as he can feel the pull in his hamstrings and adductors. 

"Good?" The brunette checks in, rubbing intentional circles around his hole now, pressing enough for the muscles to yield without Steve having to think, he’s already relaxed enough as his voice plunges through the humming, foggy pleasure clouding Steve's head like an atmosphere of his own. Separating him into his own world. Soft pleasure tickling him like feathers dragging over his skin. 

"Mmmore?" 

Bucky acquiesces, purposefully stopping the little circles to push just one of his fingertips to the center of his ring. Steve's eyes flutter open and shut a few times, undecided in what to do. 

The tip of his finger enters him. It’s inside him. Sliding in. And it really does feel like he’s pressing into the center of him, like he’s prodding the deepest part of him, heating it into a molten flow and coaxing it into morphing around him- into taking him. Steve moans, all air. Wiggling with leftover strength that he didn’t realize he still had or was capable of in the moment. Bucky breathes out his own noise, dark and hungry but beyond that Steve can’t process it. He only knows the primal call of it. Not the civilized attempt at communication. 

His ears are fuzzy, filled with cotton and static. 

More of Bucky’s finger pushes forward. More, more, more. Filling. Taking. 

Steve moans, he can’t help it. He doesn’t… he can’t. 

It feels good. The slide in and the pull back and also what-whatever else his finger is doing is-

“How's that?” Bucky’s smooth, quiet whisper somehow shatters the glass globe of pleasure he’s living in, lying back and taking it without thinking about or wanting to escape. 

“Ngh-”

Bucky makes a sound that’s like he’s trying to laugh but it isn’t working, there’s too much lust clogging his throat for him to chuckle, “yeah?” 

“Yye- ah! ” Stars burst behind his eyelids, forced to explode by the pressure building inside of him. Centered around the tip of Bucky’s finger. Prodding deep in him. Way, way deeper than he’s ever gotten his own fingers inside himself. Fuckin’ angles. 

Pure heat washes down his body, filling his veins from his head to his toes, shaking him like a wave pushing him back to shore. Sounds take up his thoughts and spill out of his lips- all of them desperate and higher than he realized he was capable of. 

Bucky stops gently rocking his finger inside of him, shallow pull backs and pushes in melting away into nothing, “ugh,” the sound just exits him, “nno. W-wait.” 

“Wait? For what, Stevie?” This time Bucky does chuckle. The fuckin’-

“Bast-ard,” Steve accidentally moans his thought about Bucky out loud, squirming with the arousal and pleasure flowing through him. Filling him up as much as Bucky’s finger is. His finger is back to moving. To rocking and thrusting and-

Oh. 

His finger is curling. Not just thrusting anymore. 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Bucky shakes, voice shaking between his laughter and gravely arousal, “to someone who just found your prostate for you.” 

“Please-” Steve whines, thinking about exactly nothing but the explosion of everything that Bucky brushing his prostate brings him. 

“Mmm- I dunno. You sure you’re ready?,” Bucky stalls. Stopping his whole body and therefore his finger from moving again and making Steve shake all over. Little whines bubbling up to his lips from his stomach which is boiling with heat but also clenching with denial. His dick fucking hurts. It twitches against his stomach, trapped between his feverish skin and the body warmed bed. “You sure you can take more, Stevie? You still feel really tight.” 

Bucky puts another fingertip up to his hole while he teases. Bringing more trembling need to Steve, his body is fucking vibrating. 

“Please-” he gasps, “please! I want-” 

“I know what you want.” Bucky nips his begging in the bud, pushing his second finger into him. 

His lips drop open, the sheets dragging against his skin and he moves. Jaw literally dropping as he tries and fails with dealing with the hot, tight, wonderful stretch of two of his fingers instead of one. It’s good. More wetness is smeared into him. It’s cold but it feels good. It’s not- it doesn’t make him flinch, he just-

“Hungry now are we?” 

He couldn’t be redder even if Bucky had convinced him to buy that edible body paint and instead of talking for a fucking year spent the time painting him from head to toe. He’s burning apart. He couldn’t be hotter if he got thrown into the fucking sun. And yet… he can’t stop his hips from pushing back again. 

Because if just this feels good? 

What on fucking Earth is his cock going to feel like? 

Both of his fingers plunge into him, all the way up to the third knuckle. Hot and thick and big. Good. Better than just one of his fingers. Sounding wet, making his ears ring louder and fill with his pounding heart beat at the same time. His cock and balls ache just like his hole does- two old sensations seamlessly blending to the new. Choking him with the obscene sensations. 

“Good?” 

Steve can only gasp and moan, gurgling a little on his own spit when he tries to speak at the same moment that he curls his fingers. Both of his fingertips pressing into his prostate gloriously. Light enough to make a man go insane, barely enough to feel though. And it’s good, it’s fucking great. Spectacular even but it’s not- not enough.  

“Fuck, ‘m good.” 

“This-” Bucky puts his third finger up to his rim, “good?” 

He nods frantically enough to potentially give him a friction rash, cheek against the bedsheets, gasping, “Good, ‘m good. Please. Keep- keep going.” 

Two becomes three and Steve’s insides melt. 

His hole struggles to take the girth at first but, fuck, nothing has ever felt like that. Like this. Stretching and yielding, heavy and thick. His cock is dripping, wet enough to dampen the sheets and continually twitching. Moving like the rest of him, squirming and writhing. Not trying to get away but to get more- more pleasure and more of a chance at cumming, at being allowed to cum. 

Bucky gets up to half way with the third finger, two others still tucked inside of him, before Steve can no longer keep everything inside of himself inside. He has to moan, he has to pant until he’s lightheaded, he has to shut his eyes as tight as he can. He has to. He’s a possessed man. 

“Oh, Oh- god!”  

Bucky’s voice is melted chocolate, dripping over his skin, hot enough to melt him that last little bit, sweet talking his body into opening up more, “you’re so fucking good. Look at you. You love this, don’t you.” 

It’s not a question. 

Shame has no room inside him, not with everything else fighting for ground to stand on: arousal, pleasure, embarrassment, awe and “yes! Yes-!” cuts out of him, desperate and sharp. True enough in his own flaming desire that he flushes more although surely there’s no way he can get any redder. 

He’s learning a million things about himself today. He does love this. 

The embarrassment in combination with shame flying away on his inhibition’s back is just the thing that he needs to help Bucky’s fingers, all three of them, slide fully into him. His body finally lets him do whatever he wants to the fullest capacity. And he- he does feel it. That. He feels full.  

Sensing the lack of filter in him, burned away by his arousal, Bucky asks, “have you ever touched your prostate, Stevie?” 

Steve hears the words but he doesn’t know what they mean. The only thing he knows is mind melting pleasure. Pleasure that’s getting in the way of the gears turning in his head. “Guh-” he groans, perfectly understandable, idiot. He tries again, “w-what?” 

“Have you ever-” 

There’s no end to the sentence, only a skyscraper’s worth of pleasure and heat and every good feeling he’s ever felt at once crashing down onto him. Wrenching sounds and garbled words from his throat hard enough to hurt. “Oh- fuck. Fff-fuck. Bucky! Buck-” 

His fingers pull away. Not out. But away. Rather than pulsing in and down, pressing onto the magic fucking spot, they just flutter in tiny baby thrusts into him. Steve whines and writhes uselessly, blinding trying to move back onto his fingers without being able to understand which way is up and which is down. He’s hiccupping a little for no discernible reason because having his fingers fuck his hole feels so good. So good. But- it’s just not. Not that fucking explosion of sensation that he just had within his grasp. 

“That was your prostate, big guy,” Bucky teases. Growly and delicious. Even his voice has him panting. “That feels good, yeah?” 

Steve is basically yelling when his voice leaves his trembling, overheated body, “yes!” 

“Yeah, it does,” he replies, not giving him any answers, just more pleasure. Starting to thrust his fingers back into and out of him, working him easily. Pulling sounds out of him that Steve doesn’t hear until after they’re out of his mouth, he’s so strung out. Strung out on the wet feeling of Bucky three fingers deep into his body, holding him open. Strung out on the pounding, aching, throbbing pulse of his painfully hard cock and balls. Strung out on the reeling of his head as he tries to take in everything about this. This- his first time. 

Bucky’s fingers are relentless inside of him as his own fist the sheets by his face so tight that he can already feel how his hands and forearms are going to be sore after this. Tomorrow morning. His throat is raw and yet he can’t stop the sounds that are coming out of him. Bucky’s fingers are pushing the sounds out of him, greedily taking up all the extra space inside him. 

Bucky, who is behind him realistically, but is sounding much, much farther away in Steve’s sparkling, sloshy, champagne brain says something and his fingers do something that make his toes curl. Heat lapping at him, filling him up. He is heat. He is lava. He’s- 

He’s going to cum. 

A desperate wail of a sound careens out of him. A pure cry. 

He’s going to cum. He’s going to cum. He’s really just going to explode and Bucky is- 

He’s… he’s stretching his fingers apart inside of him, making his internal muscles stretch and pulse deliciously. Not helping. Kicking his fingers apart and coming this close to touching his prostate full on, not just barely brushing past it passively. Reminding him that there’s a fucking reason his fingers are inside of him and that he’s going to get his dick and- it’s not helping him hold on either. 

Steve moans and pushes his hips back, his body fighting a much different fight from his mind and, no, that’s not. He wants-

A whine leaves his lips. He doesn’t want to cum. Not yet. 

But also? Also there’s more pleasure in his head then thoughts because he’s not fucking thinking at all and it’s kind of, strangely, like being drunk and he’s whining and also he can hear himself giggling? 

He’s definitely giggling. 

Giggling more than whining but also definitely whining on the end of his jagged giggles. He’s torn clean in two.

To cum or not to cum? his sloppy, pleasure-drunk mind propositions him, making him choke on a potentially side-killing round of giggles. He might be crying too, he’s laughing hard enough to be.

Bucky is laughing too but he’s not laughing at him. He’s laughing and he’s probably shaking his head with the wobbly nature of the joyful sound but that also just might be his mushy brain. Giggles keep bubbling up but they’re less of a crazy volcanic explosion and more of a lazy river now. His chest is shaking with silent explosions of laughter, silliness and arousal warring inside him. 

Bucky is petting his non-busy hand down his back as they laugh, it’s helping a lot. Calming him. Petting him like he’s an anxious kitten and not a sex-drunk grown man. 

His palm is warm. His skin rougher than Steve would’ve assumed it would be as it sweeps down his spine but it feels nice. It’s something to cling to that’s not the undying flames of lust.  

He arches up into his hand as it reaches his tailbone just because. Doing so gives him an electric shock of remembrance that he other hand is still… still doing stuff. 

His other hand is still folded properly to get three of his fingers into his body, unmoving but present. The rest of his body is also acting like nothing is happening at all. His breathing is even and smooth, his other hand is stroking down his back still, his knees and legs are unmoving and warm against the bare insides of his own spread legs. Something inside his chest centers. Calming- like the eye of a storm. 

“Hey, giggly,” Bucky says a moment after he swallows the last round of laughter, more finally not bubbling back up, his voice lighter than it has been for the past… well, however long he’s been taking care of him for, “alright?” 

“Sorry,” he rasps, nuzzling into the bed in order to scratch the pretend itch on his nose because he certainly was not just startled by the sound of his own voice in it’s regular register after only moaning for so long. Only sounding high and desperate and… not not like himself. But. Different from his everyday self. 

“Don’t worry,” Bucky soothes him, pressing his lips to the small of his back, “you’re cute.” 

“If I wasn’t?” Steve asks, joking but also just failing miserably to filter his thoughts. 

Bucky pauses- his breath fanning out over the intimate skin of his lower back and backside, calling to ranks of goosebumps, “you’re cute. Really cute. Sexy.” Steve snorts but Bucky drags his teeth over his skin, growling a little, dead serious, “I mean it. You’re sexy and I think it’s sexy that you got so out of your own head that you couldn’t stop yourself and, yeah, sure, could be considered embarrassing. But it isn’t.” 

“Thanks,” Steve croaks, heat rushing through him once more but it’s no less exciting, even if it’s the millionth time it’s happened. He hadn’t thought about it like that. 

Bucky sits back up, warning him, “I’m gonna pull my fingers out. It’s gonna feel weird but-” he sighs, dreamy, “if you want me to fuck you it has to happen. Although- I could just keep fingering you?” Steve shakes his head, he intends on responding but a word or words but they get lost in the warring sensations inside him as he slowly begins to pull back. Embarrassment. Heat. 

Emptiness. Neediness. 

His fingers leave his body fully. Taking the extra body heat with them. Steve kind of only forever wants them to stay inside of him, a whine is just under the surface of his silence and there’s begging pleads even deeper. He breathes through it shakily and the sheets pull a little under him as Bucky wipes his fingers on them, shifting his weight. 

The crinkly noise of the foil condom packet sounds loud as fuck in the silence of the room as Bucky opens it and then gets himself ready, it’s enough to get him to squirm- tightening his thighs and pushing his knees out wider. Ignoring the haphazardly, momentarily cooled heat under his skin to put himself entirely in the moment. He wants to feel-

Bucky moans. 

It’s quiet and it’s formed from relief- from stroking himself to put the condom on after not getting to touch himself at all but it’s gorgeous. Breathy and relieved as fuck and, fuck, he wants to be the reason Bucky makes noises like that. He wants to be what feels good for him. He, he wants Bucky to use his ass. 

The realization hits him like lightning. 

Striking through his core and making his hole clench around nothing, missing Bucky’s fingers like they were a part of him. 

When he thought about bottoming and trying it… he thought about what it felt like to fuck someone and about what it’d be like to be on the other end of that. He thought about the pleasure of someone else allowing him to take their body and the trust that those people gave him. He thought about, about the unbridled pleasure that was said to be produced from hitting your prostate. He didn’t think about craving someone else inside of him. He didn’t think about wanting let alone needing it the same way he needs to fuck someone when he gets hard and is offered such a thing. 

“Please,” Steve whines, gathering himself enough to use his arms, raising his hips off of the pillow. Shivering with the primal howl of how naughty it feels and also sort of with the way the head of his drippy dick drags over the pillow under him. Mostly though, it’s the way his blood lights on fucking fire at putting himself in such a vulnerable and crude position. Half on his forearms and knees for the other man.

Ass up. Face down.

Bucky groans like he’s been shot. 

Instantly right there. Right behind him. He’s on his knees too, pressing them together, pelvis to ass. 

“Buck-” 

His dick is wet and hot and sliding between his cheeks, lined right up, and it feels… it feels. 

He’s never felt anything like it before. Never. 

“R-ready?” Bucky’s voice is rough and shaky. Steve’s nodding before he can even finish the word. He needs it.

Painstakingly Bucky pulls himself away from him, getting enough of a gap between them to reposition his cock so it’s not standing up between his cheeks and against his stomach, trapped thickly between their bodies. Shockingly intimate and hot. Steve pants noisily, wetly, at the hot, blunt, mind blowing feeling of the head of his cock pressing against his entrance. Feeling like it’s against the very center of his being. 

The first push pushes the rest of his logical brain out of his body. 

The blunt head of his cock slides into his hole, popping past his rim, overwhelming and strangely monumental feeling for how small the just the tip of him is compared to the rest of his cock, which also has to fit inside him. Steve shudders. He already- already feels full. Hot and full. Bucky’s cock twitches, responding to the convulsions of his body and groaning with it. Puffing out wrecked, garbled sounds that are probably supposed to be something like, “fuck, fuck, you’re so- so tight. Tight-” he grabs his hips with a vengeance, fingernails digging into his skin, “Jesus.” 

He sits still. Allowing him to adjust to the feeling. 

“This okay?” 

Steve’s head swims, empty and also overflowing. His eyes are shut- probably. His body is full, it feels like it at least, he’s already gotten Bucky’s fingers and so he obviously isn’t fully full but- Bucky’s cock is thicker and hotter and a whole world, a goddamn whole universe, of new feelings. 

The only way he can answer Bucky after he checks in is with a thin whimper. 

Bucky finds one of his hands without moving and even if he didn’t not move it’s a feat. Steve doesn’t even know where his own hands are or what the fuck they’re doing. He squeezes his hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“Tell me if you need to stop, alright? Let me-” 

The sound of his word stretches out like warm taffy, turning into one long sigh as he pushes in farther. Pressure builds inside of him, pushing sounds out of him. 

Steve feels his muscles move and give way to the other man. He feels every tiny bit of him sliding in. He feels his heart beat pounding through his cock. He feels every little vein and valley and everything. Even through the condom. It feels good. Not life changingly great yet but… his eyes squeeze shut tighter, another whimper pours out of his mouth, unstoppable. It’s getting better. 

Every little addition of Bucky inside him feels better. 

It feels like centuries of heat and pressure and darkness and girth before Bucky stops again but it’s a nice way to spend those centuries. It doesn’t hurt and it’s dimly pleasant- sort of strangely pleasurable not because he doesn’t think it should feel good but because he doesn’t know why it’s pleasurable. He’s not hit his prostate with his cock yet. 

“This okay,” Bucky whispers, rough, “feel good still?” 

Steve wriggles, checking in with himself and clenching unintentionally. He keeps feeling and flexing muscles he didn’t realize he has- Bucky chokes. His cock has to be at least two thirds of the way in. He nods choppily, breathing heavy and feeling kind of… heavy… with Bucky’s dick sliding into him, “I- wh-what about you? ‘M, yeah," his needy moan stretches the word out. He tries to reel himself back in a little, " good. C-could… more?”

Bucky chuckles, crumbling a little as he does, “you sure?”

A frantic nod is the only thing he can hope to give Bucky. He’s quickly losing most of his vocabulary.

“Alright, boy wonder. I’m, yeah-” Bucky groans, “you’re just- fuck.” His chest tightens with heat at the strained sound of his voice. Bucky’s hips twitch forward, pushing a sliver more of his dick into him. Steve’s brain feels like it’s been electrocuted- he hears himself moan, feeling his internal muscles squeeze around Bucky without his own doing. Just instinctively clenching down. Bucky moans right back at him, finishing his thought, “tight.” Another heavy noise rises up his throat, Steve feels his dick twitch achingly. The word shouldn't be praise but it is. And it's making him feel things. 

He starts moving again, plowing forward. 

Pushing in so slowly that if Steve were not part of this endeavor he’d be envious of Bucky’s ability to control himself. 

But all that Steve can think about because he is indeed a wonderful fucking part of the endeavor is about all the feelings happening inside of him. Bucky is plunging into him. Deep and getting deeper. It feels like he’s in his throat and he’s- he’s not even to the base of his cock yet. Hot and making him hotter. There’s sweat rolling up his back with the way he’s laying, his chest is sticking to the sheets with sweat too. Good and getting gooder- good enough that he doesn’t give a shit about grammar. 

Bucky’s pelvis rests against his ass and all at once he realizes that he hasn’t been breathing or making any sounds. Just holding onto Bucky’s hand for dear life. 

All of the sounds, all of the moans and whines, that he would’ve been making if not holding his breath escape him in a high and desperate cacophony, getting fucked out of his trembling body right along with more than enough swear words.  Having all of another man inside of him isn’t freaking him out as much as he thought it would but that’s probably just because his fingers felt so good. This also feels so good. Better. A lot better. So good. It’s- it’s hot and-

Everything. 

He can’t fucking think. He can’t-

“Oh-” 

He has all. of. Bucky’s. dick. inside. him. 

His core is molten, liquid, throbbing and churning. Bucky leans down, squeezing his hand and then pulling away as he rests his sweaty forehead on his shoulder, mumbling, “so tight. God,” he chuckles some too, “gonna fuckin’ break my dick you’re so tight.”  

Steve can’t stop the giggles inside of him from bubbling over again at the stupid comment until, “ah-!” He makes the by far most embarrassing, high, feminine sound to date.

Bucky’s hips pull back and punch forward, forcing his cock back into him. It’s not even- it’s not- he didn’t… he didn’t even pull back for more than a second. There’s not… that was just a baby thrust. And yet- stars explode behind his eyes and all of his muscles flex at once in an uncontrolled response. His toes curl. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of him. 

Steve is going to be hoarse after this. 

He can’t stop himself from moaning loud and high as hell with every single one of Bucky’s tiny thrusts. He’s not even thrusting really. He’s fucking humping him and still pleasure rushes through him, filling him with static. Gutting him. Melting him. 

“H-harder,” Steve pants, unable to take the babying even though he knows he should let Bucky take care of him. He's going to be sore after this but he's not thinking about that. The only thing he can think about is now. He wants more. Bucky moans, lips brushing his shoulder, need roars just under his skin, “god, harder,” he pleads, the animal inside of him waking up. 

Bucky does the opposite though. He slows down, panting to catch his breath. His lips quirk up into a smirk against his sweaty skin and even just that has fire burning hotter inside him, “that’s. That's not how you a-ask nicely when someone’s fucking you, Steven.” 

Steve chokes on a whine, starting to drool. Fireworks sparking under his skin, in his stomach, and shooting out to all the rest of his body. Making little embarrassing sounds, all of them get literally fucked out of him, until he finds words. Breathy and shy and so strung out that his balls tighten with the sound of his own desperation, “pluh-please, harder.”  

It's right on the tip of his tongue. It's so much easier to say that he expects it to be.  His body is liquid heat, coiled tight, just waiting for Bucky to respond.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” he teases, his confidence working its magic on his thinly holding on body. 

Half of an inch of pulling back before pushing back in felt good. But a full inch of pulling back before fucking back felt incredible. Nearly two inches of pulling back and slamming forward felt unearthly. But. Having Bucky pull back and ram forward feels heavenly. So heavenly that it might be sinful.

Moans that are so high and thin that they make his own ears ring. Blood pressure rising even higher. Desire inhabiting every inch and cell in his body. The intrusion of his cock sliding in and out, in and out, in and out in makes his toes curl and his spine arch and the only thing he can think is of is the sensation, hazy and hot and laden heavenly with pleasure. Acting on just what his body is screaming for Steve goes with the flow.

Bolts of deadly lightning strike through him, shocking him and shoving him closer and closer to the edge. Dragging him without hesitation or pity. 

The punch of his cock to his prostate makes him wail which makes Bucky moan and stutter as he asks, already knowing, if that's the spot. A wave of need floods him, drowning him. The slap of his pelvis to his ass is the perfect kind of painful and turns his desperate wail into a silent scream. The drag of his leaking, throbbing cock against the damp pillow under his hips isn't even in his head. The sparking pleasure there is just background noise, it's not even the main focus. The main focus is deadly; it's so good. 

So good. 

So good that- 

Incomprehensible sounds tumble over his lips, each of them less coherent than the last. Each of them not even touching the pure, indescribable feelings inside of him because how could they? It's fucking unreal. He's ablaze, lit up. Every nerve in his body is processing pleasure. His brain is swamped with jumbled lust, chanting fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, Bucky, fuckfuckingfuck- 

Bucky moans something about his hole clenching around him, something about him being perfect for him and that's, that's fucking it. His balls are swollen and tight - every part of his body full to the brim with lava - and he's unbearably achy with the pressure but he's cumming. The relief of pent up carnal lust that his mouth drops open, silent, overwhelmed. His dick is twitching and exploding, painting his stomach and the sheets. 

His blood is gasoline and his body is crumpled newspaper. 

He doesn't stand a chance. 

Time slips away. 

He's gone. But he can also still feel, faintly, the embers of his unbridled, uncontrolled pleasure wrecking his body. Destroying his mind. He can feel Bucky. Bucky’s…

What is Bucky doing?

He's-

No. He- he's, he's-? I don't want-

Steve swims through the inky, well-deserved exhaustion crowding him. Surrounding him like a steaming hot bath. His insides are buzzing, sloshy and comfy. His post orgasmic void is much stronger than usual, going on forever and darkening his vision, glazing his skin, weighing his eyelids. 

"Nnnn-" he cries down into the real world, still in outer space from cumming so intensely. 

The heavy, pulsing heat of his cock stays put. No longer sliding back and away and out. Pausing inside him instead. 

"What's up, baby?" Bucky's voice is anything but even and his hand is biting into his waist, fingertips bruising his hips, trying to hold himself together with the grip. He's panting too. Steve himself, he realizes, is shaking, floating back down lower, coming closer to being back into his body. Feeling bone-deep satisfaction with only a taste of need and curiosity now rather than the oceans he felt before. 

His tongue is dry and too thick in his mouth while drool wets his chin, "nn. No, no, I… I can 'ake it." 

Bucky moans, wanting it but fighting himself unsteadily, "y-you don't have to-"

He arches his back like that'll convince the other man, like it's any kind of argument- it does cut him off though at least. Gasping with the pulse Bucky's cock gives Steve savors the feeling. He's harder than ever. Somehow he finds it in himself to slur words out once more, "wan' it."

"Oh, fuck," Bucky growls. His hips jerking forward like he can't take it. Can't control himself. A weak flame of desire claws its way up his throat in the form of a whine. "Oh, I get it. You curious about something else, baby?" He purrs, intentionally rocking his cock in and out of him, letting himself chase his own pleasure a little again.  

Steve falls back into his body.

Igniting weak desire for Bucky, not for himself. Flushing to the point that his skin must be glimmering, arousal not being allowed to go out, simmering instead, embarrassment becomes a twin flame. 

I- I do.How does he know?

One of his simmering, shining arms materializes next to his eyes without his own doing, shielding him. Trembling with his voice box; all of him vibrating and tired, exhausted to the bone but… good, "nno," he whines, not meaning it. Knowing Bucky knows he doesn’t mean it. 

Bucky's hips pick back up their pace, thudding and distracting as all hell, "but you - oh Jesus - are." Sweaty and also shaking fingers peel his arm from his face in order to bare him to his eyes. Simmering heat boils over and the same cannot be said for his hole. The longer Bucky uses his hole the more throbby and achy and hot he feels inside. Overused in the best way imaginable. Bucky kisses his shoulder, his lips open and brushing his slick skin, "yu-you wanna know what it feels like to have someone finish in-inside you? Don’t y-you?” 

Steve whines high and girly, his spent dick twitching sharply, a little painful, in the mess of cum on the pillow under him.

“Yeah,” Bucky groans, low and dirty. His hips pull back deliciously slowly, sinking forward with the same patience. His open hole flutters around his heavy, toe-curling girth; feeling everything. Hyper aware now that he’s not in the throes of orgasm.

“Here,” the more experienced man offers, rasping, hips stopping and pulling back. Making him whine with the feeling, empty and startlingly cold, even though it's also kind of relieving too. It's less overwhelming for sure. Better but also worse though. 

Eager hands flip him onto his back, Steve doesn't have it in himself to fight or to help.

He goes like a ragdoll even though his back gets smeared into his messy, cum soaked pillow grossly. The squelch of it pushes another high noise from him. 

He shoves back into him. 

Steve witnesses like a backseat driver to the feel of his internal muscles contracting and loosening at the same time, hugging his blood-hot erection, Bucky moaning and twitching, and his own voice squealing helplessly. He’s at mercy to his own body. A toy for Bucky's pleasure. 

Sweat rolls down his back. 

Jolts of pleasure grasp and twist him up, tying him in knots as Bucky fucks him. He gasps, it’s so much. He forces his body with everything he’s got left inside him to keep his eyes open. His dick is red on his belly, bouncing with the force of Bucky’s hips against his body, softening only a little. Lighting slices him. He's not going to cum again, there’s too much feeling for that, he just… the actions of what are happening to him too much for his blood to rediscover the rest of his body. Sharp keens flow out of him with every sweaty slap of their bodies colliding.

Steve has got no peace of mind to ask why he's on his back but Bucky is explaining himself shortly anyway, “s' you can watch.”

A moan bursts out of him so suddenly that it hurts, rubbing his throat even more raw. He tears his eyes from his spent, overwhelmed cock and Bucky’s hips that are stained with the impact of his body's primal need to his face. 

His movie-star features are twisted into pleasure. 

It’s such an erotic look on him that Steve has to clench around him and look awake for a second. He’s so pretty. So attractive. Bucky whines a little, huffing and puffing with the effort he’s putting into plowing him- his eyes snap right back at the sound he makes even though it’s like looking at the sun. Shivers claim his body. 

His gorgeous eyes are shut tight and his lips are red, candy-red, as they hang open obscenely. Swollen, shining and dripping with moans for him. His marble sculpted cheekbones are pink with exertion. His brow is furrowed and he just- he’s just glowing. 

Bucky groans, fully gutted. 

He’s shaking now. 

Sweat glimmering over all of him that Steve can devour with hungry eyes. 

His hips go from a proper thrusting to humping again, keeping his dick inside his body, grinding into his prostate as he keeps all of his cock inside of him, hard and heavy. 

“Ah- ah, ah!” Steve can’t help his gasps as he hangs onto Bucky for his life. Waves of pleasure crash through him, torturous and dizzying. Bucky shoves him up the bed with every animal thrust. He’s fucking him like he wants to kill him. 

Steve is going to die a happy man.

Bucky’s hips nearly literally stun him with how hard he thrusts into him, grunting as he fucking wrecks him. Pulses of the impact ripple through him, spreading painfully good, too soon waves into his bloodstream. A reedy whine escapes him. His vision fizzles out for a moment as Bucky cums with a desperate, high sound that Steve is going to be hearing in his wet dreams from now until he dies. And he’s going to die soon. 

His eyes pop open instantly to watch the rest of it. 

Bucky is an angel. He’s- fuck. 

His cock twitches against his sticky, gross skin and his body tries, in vain, to get him to feel just the pleasure and not all the rest of it. Trying to coax him into getting all the way there, all the way hard, again. He- he usually can get up again quickly but, god, he doesn’t have anything left but fumes. And it’s glorious. 

It’s glorious even as Bucky collapses on top of him, shaking and overheated, melting into his chest. Panting like he’s run two marathons. Melting almost literally with the amount of sweat over his skin. His lashes flutter against his collarbone, opening and closing. The exhausted weight of his body atop his is strangely comforting even though Steve doesn’t feel like he’s going to freak out, he’s just- spent.

The hopelessly pretty and dangerously erotic image of his orgasm face is tattooed on the back of his eyelids as he shuts them, facing the ceiling. Trying to deepen and even out his own breathing and trying to not squeeze Bucky’s softening cock to death. He’s just- still there. Still… inside him. Not expecting anything, just there for- for… ease. 

It’s nice. Not nice like seeing Bucky being brought to orgasmic bliss because of his body but nice like comforting. 

“Nice face,” is the first thing that spills out of his mouth when he can’t take re-living the moment on his own anymore. Great job, you idiot. You’re gonna make it w-

“Thanks. It’s the only one I’ve got.” Bucky deadpans back, too tired to come up with a better retort. His eyes are open and plainly amused when Steve looks down though, so that’s something. 

He brackets his forearms next to his shoulders, shaking as he does but going ahead with it regardless, sighing and locking eyes with him.

Worry worms its way into his body but Steve stares back at him like there’s nothing wrong. However, there must be some kind of look on his face because Bucky presses their foreheads together, mumbling “‘m just gonna pull out. It might hurt and if it hurts too much you gotta tell me. I’ll stop but also I-” he swallows, worry wells inside him more, growing, “I’ll check you later, if you’ll let me,” he shrugs, “but I kind just want to keep you here with me right now. Y’know to cuddle some, then you can head off if you want.” 

Steve nods, a little relieved but not fully and his fuck-dumb brain comes online enough to ask, “but- check? Later? Like a date?” 

Bucky barks out a laugh, brushing a kiss to his cheek, “like after I cuddle you for enough time to get my legs under me I was gonna roll you over and make sure your hole looks okay. Jus’ so I can see that you’re not bleeding or anything but…” he’s grinning enough that Steve doesn’t fear the anticipation of the pause, “I guess you’re a mind reader anyway. A date is also totally on the cards. If you want.” 

“I want.” Steve tries to be as forward and open as Bucky has been with him because yes, please. 

“Great,” Bucky agrees earnestly before straightening himself up again, prepping to pull out, warning him gently, “just breathe with me, okay, Stevie?”