Bucky POV
Bucky glowered at his reflection in the mirror, thinking about all the things that had lead him to this point. He'd been browsing through Instagram earlier, and he saw some dumb quote from a motivational page: “be the person you needed when you were younger”. He tried to shake it off, but it had been with him ever since. So many things hadn't gone the way he planned, so many dreams had ended in pain and countless unintended consequences. It wasn't that he was disappointed in himself. If he had a chance to do it all over again, he'd always save his friends. He just wished there was an option where everyone could win. An option where Rebecca could be safe and happy.
He calmly placed his toothbrush in the holder, and as he leaned forward, he felt the cool surface of the marble countertop brush against the underside of his belly, where it lapped over his waistband. He frowned and tucked his shirt back in. His gut was getting harder to ignore, try as though he did. He was going to have to get bigger pants sometime soon. He'd planned on going on a diet eventually, but there were so many other things to focus on that it always got pushed to the back of his mind. And he'd always formulated plans better on a full stomach, anyway. There had been plenty of plan formulating.
He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, allowing himself to really think about how it made him feel. He didn't mind, not particularly. He was still strong and handsome. He turned to the side, flexing his arms. There was a new layer of padding that didn't used to be there, but he felt sturdy. Powerful. It didn't particularly matter what other people thought of him, and if things went the way he thought they might, it wouldn't make a difference anyway.
But he'd been wrong before about the outcome of things, and he hoped to be wrong again. He'd give anything just to see Rebecca smile.
If he was really honest with himself, he kind of liked the way Steve looked him. Something strange had been growing between the two men, forced into proximity by events beyond their control. Bucky could tell that Steve didn't always know what to do, or how to act, and sometimes he looked like a lost puppy, despite his impressive frame. Sometimes he just wanted to cup the officer's cheek, look into his azure eyes and tell him it was all going to be okay. Such fantasies also occasionally involved Bucky gently pushing his head downward, and Steve enthusiastically giving him head, but he figured that was less realistic. Hell, he didn't even know if Steve was gay.
But the looks he gave him sometimes…
Especially when they he was eating. At first, Bucky misunderstood the looks to be judgemental of his substantial meals and accompanying middle, but upon further inspection Steve seemed a little too interested for it to be that. His body language changed drastically; he angled his whole body toward Bucky like he was his only reference point in all the world. His cheeks would get that pretty flush and he'd keep stealing glances when he thought Bucky wasn't looking. And there'd been the more recent times when he'd offered Bucky his own food, even encouraged him to eat more.
But, he was certain he was imagining things. The officer's job was to keep a close eye on him; of course he stared.
There was a knock on the oak door, starling Bucky a little.
“Hey, you okay in there?” Came Steve's voice, and Bucky was reminded of the one reason, above all others, that they could never have a relationship.
A relationship needs trust.
--
For the rest of the evening they stayed in the room, TV on the background while Bucky tapped on his laptop and Steve pointedly ignored him, doing paperwork on the floor. About an hour ago, Bucky had muttered something about Steve taking it easy in vacation, and the man had replied to his comment with a cold stare. They'd been working in charged silence ever since. Bucky was starting to go nuts. He felt boxed in, the claustrophobia of the room too much and the AC too low. He rose and walked the the window, inching it open and parting the drapes before he sat back on the bed.
“Keep it closed.”
“What?” Bucky asked.
Steve rolled his eyes. “The window. Close it.”
Bucky sat back, crossing his legs. “If you want it shut, you close it. Too goddamn hot in here.”
Steve flushed. “You're closer. You close it, then turn the AC up.”
“No. It's my room, and I want it open.”
Steve drew his eyebrows together and stood. He walked over to the mini fridge and retrieved a bottle of spring water.
“I'm gonna have to pay for that. Can't you drink out of the faucet?”
Steve frowned. “Tap water might be bad.”
Bucky sighed and snapped his laptop shut. “We're in Wakanda, Steve, not Mars. I’m sure you can drink the water.”
Steve looked him dead in the eyes while he cracked the bottle open and took a long sip.
Bucky felt around on the nightstand for the remote, unwilling to break eye contact first. Steve jumped and looked away when Bucky turned the channel, static filling the room. There was another beat or two of silence where Bucky proclaimed himself the victor.
“Do they have Netflix?”
“I don’t know,” Bucky responded, squinting at the remote. The TV was easy enough to figure out, but he wasn’t sure how to navigate the input mode settings.
“Let me try,” Steve said, snatching the remote out of his hands. He stared at it furiously for a moment or two before shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
“Thanks for that, Wakandan IT Guy. What did you want to watch anyway?”
“Tidying Up For Marie Kondo. I like putting it on while I work.”
Bucky shifted on the bed. He liked the show too, but he felt like disagreeing with Steve. Clearly, the cop saw him as an enemy, so why should he make anything easy?
“That’s boring. I want to watch something with a plot.” He continued to flip through the channels. In his peripheral vision he could see Steve’s jaw tensing, his middle vein pulsing on his forehead.
Steve walked to the TV and shut it off via the button. “Stop that. You’re driving me nuts.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, are the appliances in the hotel room you’re not paying for too below your holy standards?”
“No. I just-- Just put on some music or something.” Steve was twitchy, all sorts of restless.
Bucky knew he was being immature, but he was pissed off too. This was the first time they’d been alone, in such close confines, for so long, and everything they were dying to say was making them reckless. Bucky felt like pushing until something broke. At least things can’t get any worse than being stuck in a foreign country with a self-righteous asshole.
“Fine.” Bucky took out his phone and opened up Spotify, shuffling his punk rock playlist. He froze when Know Your Rights came on. He froze, then immediately scrambled to skip the song, praying Steve wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t be so lucky, however.
“Not that,” Steve snapped, exasperated. “Something without lyrics. I’m trying to read.”
Bucky checked the time and, blissfully, it was almost 10. “Whatever. You can put on anything you want. I’m going to sleep.” He stood and walked to the bathroom, grabbing his pajamas on the way.
He was frustrated and claustrophobic, and truthfully, a little scared. He’d been bored, but now he was just tired, and he felt bad about taking it out on Steve. Not that he didn’t deserve it, the prick,he reminded himself cheerfully, but still. It could never be possible for someone like him to do things the simple way, and he was just fooling himself by thinking so.
He changed into the soft pants and tank top, and when he left the bathroom, the light was out and Steve was already in bed.
He crossed the room in the dark, tripping a little over the edge of a suitcase before catching himself on the dresser. He passed by the window, pausing before getting into bed.
“Curtains open or shut?” he whispered.
There was a pause before Steve answered. “Open.”
The moon was sharp in the clear night, and with as little light pollution as the progressive city of Wakanda provided, the stars were brighter than Bucky had ever seen them. For the first time in his life, he saw the Milky Way with his naked eyes. It almost brought tears to his eyes.
“What are you doing, praying?” Steve whispered.
Bucky snorted and got into the bed, realizing with relief (and perhaps a degree of disappointment) that the bed was as big as the clerk had said and he could sleep very comfortably without fighting for space. “No way.” He turned on his side, away from Steve, their backs facing each other. “You a religious man?” He assumed the answer would be affirmative, from the way Steve spoke about truth and justice.
“I don’t know. My mom raised me that way, but I guess… it’s just hard to believe in a higher power with everything wrong in the world.”
He was surprised, not for the first time, by the other man. “Oh,” was all he could think to respond.
“Good night, Buck.”
“Night, Steve.”
It was a good hour earlier than Bucky was used to going to bed, and he continued to watch the moon and the occasional cloud that would pass by. He felt like sleep was the last thing on his mind, all of the thoughts of the plan and the job before him racing through his mind. He could tell by Steve’s breathing that he wasn’t asleep either.
“I wish…” Steve murmured about a half hour later, so quietly Bucky nearly missed it.
“What?”
The sheets rustled a little as Steve tugged more blanket over to his side. “Nothing.”
“You wishin’ on a star?” Bucky teased.
“I thought you went to sleep.”
“Can’t.”
“Me neither.”
Steve sat up. “I have some benadryl in my suitcase.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Steve, wait.” Bucky’s hand moved out faster than he could stop it, landing on Steve’s shoulder. Steve half-turned and looked at him, expectantly. Bucky started speaking a few different times, not entirely sure what it was he was trying to say. “Fuck,” is what he decided on, before the moment became too embarrassing. He leaned forward, pressing against Steve’s back, and kissed him on his soft lips. His eyes fluttered shut. Steve’s mouth parted in surprise, and he gently licked forward. As he deepened the kiss, their faces came closer, and he felt Steve’s light stubble, breathed in his air. He pulled back for air, eyes jumping between the blond’s. “Well--” he started, but he was cut off.
Steve threw his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed him again, the force of his embrace sending Bucky falling against the pillows. He recovered himself and put his hands on Steve’s tiny waist, situating him better on top of him. Steve straddled his thick waist, his pretty ass perched right on Bucky’s middle. He hadn’t seen what the officer was wearing since he came out of the bathroom, but he was delighted to see that he was clad in only boxers.
Steve pulled away from the kiss and sat up, looking down at him. Bucky was afraid he might try to argue against what happened, but his hands were still on him, thumbs hooking under the straps of his shirt. “Off,” he muttered, tugging lightly.
Bucky hesitated for a moment, and Steve’s face turned plaintive. “Please?” he asked in a voice so small. Bucky was almost worried about doing it, about being so bare and vulnerable beneath Steve, but when he looked in his eyes, he knew that he needn’t have been. Every single emotion and thought that Steve was having were plastered plainly on his face, and all of them seemed to be screaming I want you. Bucky thought wryly for a moment that if he wondered what the other man was thinking, he should have gotten him into bed weeks okay.
“Okay, I’m gonna need you to shift down a little, honey,” Bucky mentioned, hard as it was to sit up with Steve sitting right on him. The pet name slipped out of his mouth too quickly, and he cursed himself immediately for ruining this perfect moment. It felt fragile, like the type of thing that would disappear if too much attention was called to it.
Steve, however, just beamed, immediately scooching back to sit on the tops of Bucky’s thighs. A blush was high on his cheeks, and Bucky could see that he was already hard in his boxers. At once, he knew he had his number, and he was surprised he didn’t guess earlier. On the job, the two of them were always fighting for authority, butting heads over who made the call. But in bed, Steve relinquished complete control to him.
“Is that what you want, honey?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Want someone to take care of you, tell you what to do?”
Steve honest to god mewled. And god, if that wasn’t the weirdest thing, but it turned Bucky right the hell on. “Alright, baby,” he soothed, sitting up a little and peeling his tank top off himself, tossing it on the ground. He placed one arm on Steve’s shoulder, anchoring him with the touch. “If that’s what you need, sweetheart. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.”
Steve’s eyes were wide and full of expression, making him look frightened and young. It had been a while since either of them were so vulnerable with another person.
Bucky palmed at Steve’s crotch, and he bucked his hips up into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. “Damn, honey, you’ve already soaked your boxers. Why don’t you take them off?” Bucky suggested.
Steve grunted in response, sitting up on his knees and shoving his underwear lower down on his hips, hard cock bouncing free. It wasn’t to that that Bucky paid attention, though- he trailed his hand down Steve’s perfect abs, past his balls and to his tight hole. He circled it with his finger, not quite pressing in, but just feeling the velvet soft flesh.
Steve leaned forward against Bucky, resting his forehead on the man’s shoulder in almost an embrace. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered right in Bucky’s ear.
Bucky pulled back in surprise and looked him in his blue eyes. “You sure?”
“Yes. Please,” Steve begged. “I want you inside me. Please.” He was equal parts desperation and confidence, and god, if it wasn’t working on Bucky-- he’d been with few lovers who managed to pull off both at once.
Bucky kissed him again, softly, on the cheek, like he was able to be broken from the single touch. “Okay. You want to ride me, baby?”
Steve nodded in response, not looking in Bucky’s eyes.
“Hey,” he whispered, tilting Steve’s face until their eyes met. “Use your words, okay, honey? If you don’t want something, you just let me know.”
“I want… I want to be beneath you.” Steve’s voice had gotten so quiet, like he was afraid to hear himself admit what he wanted. One of the first times they’d met, Bucky had pegged him as being into some weird fucking sex-- someone as repressed as him always had a ton of crazy hidden below the surface. What surprised Bucky was how similar their dirty little interests were.
“Under me, darlin’? Doggystyle?” Bucky was poignantly aware neither of them had used each other’s names since they kissed. Was Steve picturing him as someone else, he wondered? He was certain that Steve wasn’t wishing that he was with a woman instead, from the way he wanted to be fucked from behind, but he wondered if he was hoping he was someone thinner, or at least less felonious. He didn’t want that, to make love to him while he closed his eyes and imagined it was someone else’s dick pounding him, but he just had to trust Steve to be transparent with his desires.
Not like he had been heretofore.
“Yes. Please,” Steve added, his blush positively scarlet.
“Okay,” Bucky repeated, getting with the program. Steve sat to the side and got off of him while he sat up on his knees to take his pants off. Steve immediately got on all fours, bracing his arms on the pillow and presenting ass to Bucky so beautifully.
Bucky rose from the bed for a moment, fetching a condom and some lube from his cosmetics bag. Steve was still waiting in perfect position once he situated himself back on the bed. “Good boy, that’s so nice like that,” Bucky muttered, rolling the condom on and squeezing a generous amount of lube on his fingers. He heard Steve shudder in a deep breath. “Ready?” he asked, and Steve nodded again. “Words, baby,” he reminded him.
“Yes, Sir,” Steve responded quickly, and Bucky rewarded him by pressing his first finger into Steve’s hole. He cried out, arching his back. Bucky worked it around in slow circles before he added the second. “Oh, god, fuck,” Steve muttered, voice muffled by the pillow.
“You feel so tight,” Bucky added, and his own voice surprised him, how deep and fucked out it sounded.
Steve let out a rueful chuckle. “Been a while.”
“That’s okay.” Bucky scissored his fingers, feeling Steve’s soft walls adjust around him. “Me too.” His cock was ready, and Steve was, too, quivering beneath him and aching for it. Bucky lined up and pressed the tip against Steve’s hole, taking a moment to admire his strong back, his trapezius flexing beneath golden skin. He was almost glad that at this angle, Steve wouldn’t be the recent weight he’d stacked onto his middle, but that meant that he’d feel it as Bucky leant over him.
Fuck it. If Steve didn’t want Bucky’s gut resting on his back, then he shouldn’t have asked for doggy style. Bucky rested his hands on Steve’s adonis belt, feeling the hard muscle there and the contrast with his own muffin top. He pushed in, Steve’s hole taking him halfway up his shaft before he paused. “You good?”
“God, yes, you feel so big, shit,” Steve cried out, and wiggled his butt in an attempt to take Bucky in further. “Bottom out, please.”
Bucky couldn’t refuse him when he used that voice. Instead of thrusting forward, he pulled Steve back into him, easily manhandling him backward until his balls were flesh against Steve’s ass. “Fuck, honey, you’re perfect.” He began to set the pace, obscene sounds filling the hotel room. About a quarter of the sounds were made by the overhang of his belly, slapping against Steve’s back with each thrust.
Steve seemed deterred not an iota, though, taking dick like a champ. He whimpered for it, driving Bucky on, making small sounds without quite forming words. Bucky continuously reassured him, calling him ‘baby’ and ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’ and everything but his name. He was chanting it in his mind, though, an endless chorus of Steve, Steve, Steve, I’ve wanted this since I first saw you, Steve, knew you’d be so good for me, wanted to push your pretty head down and make you blow me, Steve, oh god, Steve, Steve, Steve.
“S-sir,” Steve gasped out, making Bucky growl darkly in appreciation. What would his superiors say if they could see him like this, being fucked by his parolee? “I’m gonna come…”
“Not yet,” Bucky commanded, high off the feeling of power that Steve gave him. This is what they’d lacked all along. This was the dynamic they were always searching for, the position they needed. Everything felt right in this moment. Bucky above Steve, buried in him and branding every unsaid word on his perfect ass. Maybe it would never last, outside this moment. Maybe they would come and roll over and refuse to look each other in the eyes. Maybe in the morning Bucky would eat his feelings and find some way to escape out the back to find the rest of his team and get down to fucking business, but right now he was having the best sex of his adult life and it would last as long as they both did. “Not yet, doll, hold on for me. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve sobbed, voice breaking. He was shaking with the effort, beads of sweat rolling down his back and pillow dampened with drool or tears.
Bucky pulled out and removed the condom, reaching between his legs and stroking him, feeling the vein, the gentle curve. “Okay, now, sweetheart. Come for me.”
Steve finished with a shout, seed spraying into Bucky’s hand. After the throes of his orgasm left, he collapsed and rolled over onto his back, knees up. His eyes were instantly on Bucky’s hard dick, head purple and throbbing, and without asking, he put his hands on Bucky’s ass and swallowed him down, swirling his tongue around his shaft and tonguing at the slit.
Bucky threw his head back and groaned, surprised and fucking delighted. Steve was no pillow princess, that was for sure, and he knew his way around a dick better than anyone Bucky might have encountered- well, ever. Options had been rather limited.
“St-ste, sweetie, I’m gonna, fuck, oh, SteeEeve!” Bucky warned, catching himself but not in enough time. Steve was pulling his brains straight through his cock, and he was lucky to form a single word at all. He could have punched himself for saying his name, though. “Baby. Gonna.” Steve made no attempt to pull back, instead hollowing out his cheeks more as he sucked Bucky’s prick like his life depended on it, and Bucky came down his throat. He pulled back a moment later, lips swollen and so pink he could have been wearing lipstick. “That was. Holy shit. That was really good.”
Steve collapsed backward onto the pillows, tugging at Bucky vaguely with floppy hands. Bucky came down atop him to rest in a sweaty mess, and then realized he was probably squishing the poor man. He made to move, but Steve had regained some of his strength, vice-like arms holding him in place. “We should clean up,” Bucky muttered, already feeling sleep creeping up on his eyelids.
Steve grunted, neither in affirmation or denial, and in moments they were asleep.