Steve’s hands roam everywhere as he pulls up the ripped sides of his shirt free from Bucky’s belt and a large, firm touch settles on bare skin, and Bucky feels a little like a flame’s set underneath his skin and along his nerves.
Kissing Steve’s nothing like kissing one of his girls. It’s not a nice kiss. Not one of those gentle searching ones you might have with a doll, tucked away in a car at the end of a nice date. Back when he used to go on that kinda thing, Bucky was always a gentleman; he just wasn’t one of those guys who pushed things too much or too fast or raced to get his rocks off first. That also meant taking his time - however long it took - to get a bird’s motor running. This is none of that.
Maybe because neither of them need it when it’s like a dam’s burst. Maybe because this is so different from anything Bucky’s had before that it feels like his head’s spinning. This kiss is bruising and fierce and desperate on Bucky’s end, especially when Steve groans and welcomes him inside, his tongue sliding hot and damp against his that’s got Bucky’s cock practically lurching against his fly. Steve’s cock throbs against his even through the layers between them, the hardening bulge brushing against his own that’s got Bucky choking on a startled, wanting sound. Sure, they’ve seen each other naked. But he’s never seen Steve hard, and now? Now he’s dying to.
Steve suddenly pulls back, chest heaving on a groan that Bucky echoes. Blunt fingernails scrape dull tracks along Steve’s scalp as Bucky sinks his grip into Steve’s hair. It leaves Bucky breathing hard and thickly against the corner of Steve’s mouth as he can’t help but chase after the friction while Steve figures out for them how belts work again. Unhelpfully, Bucky tries to worm out of it, but it mostly ends up with him rocking along Steve’s length like a world class call girl might.
By the time Steve gets the belt trapping him against him like a promise and an order that has Bucky's shaft straining, fully hard and trapped as he chases after Steve’s lips with little sucks and kisses as if to snatch one more taste, then another and another for himself as he struggles to get Steve’s shirt up and over his head, and tossed to some corner.
God, look at him. Steve looks amazing like this; flushed and eyes dark with arousal, perfect muscles tapered down to a perfect waist. Bucky looks down between them, at the sight of their straining cocks, trapped and ground against each other, even as he squirms to try and greedily get more and more.
“Don’t. Don’t be all polite or nice. Just let me have this before I have to go back,” Bucky groans, and buries his face in Steve’s throat.
Because he’s also a little yellow-bellied and he’ll never have this with his Steve. That means taking whatever he can here, while he can, before the War gets him.
“Let me have this, please.” Bucky whispers and he’s licking his way past Steve’s lips as he works at Steve’s belt, tossing it aside before he squeezes his hand down between them to jam his hand gracelessly underneath Steve’s waistband. Calloused hands find the length there, velvety but shockingly hard, familiar and unfamiliar as Bucky pumps at him.
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Kissing Steve’s nothing like kissing one of his girls. It’s not a nice kiss. Not one of those gentle searching ones you might have with a doll, tucked away in a car at the end of a nice date. Back when he used to go on that kinda thing, Bucky was always a gentleman; he just wasn’t one of those guys who pushed things too much or too fast or raced to get his rocks off first. That also meant taking his time - however long it took - to get a bird’s motor running. This is none of that.
Maybe because neither of them need it when it’s like a dam’s burst. Maybe because this is so different from anything Bucky’s had before that it feels like his head’s spinning. This kiss is bruising and fierce and desperate on Bucky’s end, especially when Steve groans and welcomes him inside, his tongue sliding hot and damp against his that’s got Bucky’s cock practically lurching against his fly. Steve’s cock throbs against his even through the layers between them, the hardening bulge brushing against his own that’s got Bucky choking on a startled, wanting sound. Sure, they’ve seen each other naked. But he’s never seen Steve hard, and now? Now he’s dying to.
Steve suddenly pulls back, chest heaving on a groan that Bucky echoes. Blunt fingernails scrape dull tracks along Steve’s scalp as Bucky sinks his grip into Steve’s hair. It leaves Bucky breathing hard and thickly against the corner of Steve’s mouth as he can’t help but chase after the friction while Steve figures out for them how belts work again. Unhelpfully, Bucky tries to worm out of it, but it mostly ends up with him rocking along Steve’s length like a world class call girl might.
By the time Steve gets the belt trapping him against him like a promise and an order that has Bucky's shaft straining, fully hard and trapped as he chases after Steve’s lips with little sucks and kisses as if to snatch one more taste, then another and another for himself as he struggles to get Steve’s shirt up and over his head, and tossed to some corner.
God, look at him. Steve looks amazing like this; flushed and eyes dark with arousal, perfect muscles tapered down to a perfect waist. Bucky looks down between them, at the sight of their straining cocks, trapped and ground against each other, even as he squirms to try and greedily get more and more.
“Don’t. Don’t be all polite or nice. Just let me have this before I have to go back,” Bucky groans, and buries his face in Steve’s throat.
Because he’s also a little yellow-bellied and he’ll never have this with his Steve. That means taking whatever he can here, while he can, before the War gets him.
“Let me have this, please.” Bucky whispers and he’s licking his way past Steve’s lips as he works at Steve’s belt, tossing it aside before he squeezes his hand down between them to jam his hand gracelessly underneath Steve’s waistband. Calloused hands find the length there, velvety but shockingly hard, familiar and unfamiliar as Bucky pumps at him.