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Bucky's pleasantly tipsy when a nice pair of legs in tall black boots catches his eye across the room. It's Sam's party, so he's free of host responsibilities, slumped down on a couch with a beer in his hand, just enjoying the view. He follows the legs up to a ridiculously short, flatteringly tight black skirt and a soft black leather jacket. She's got her back to Bucky, so all he can see of her face is her silky blonde hair, cut into a short pixie.
"Y' got your eye on someone, Barnes?"
Clint flops down next to him on the couch, nearly spilling Bucky's beer.
"Watch it," Bucky scowls, protectively pulling his beer closer.
"Yeah yeah. So who're you staring at?"
Bucky sighs, knowing Clint isn't going to let this drop, and gestures in the girl's direction.
"Over there, with the short skirt and the pixie."
"Ohhh," Clint says, like he knows something Bucky doesn't. "You wanna get down and dirty with little Stevie Rogers, is that how it is?"
"You know her?" Bucky asks.
Clint blinks at him, like he's not quite sure what Bucky said, and then he starts cackling.
"…what?" Bucky says suspiciously. "What's so funny?"
Clint hiccups and leans in close.
"Stevie," he informs Bucky solemnly, "is short for Steven."
"Stevie's a boy?"
"Yep," Clint says, and starts giggling again. "God, I am so drunk. Ooo, hey, you want me to introduce you?"
Before Bucky can say anything, Clint cups his hands around his mouth and yells "Steve! Hey, Stevieeeee!"
Bucky watches as the 'girl' in the short skirt turns, glancing around the room.
"Over here!" Clint shouts, waving his hand.
Stevie grins and walks over.
"Stevie, this here—" Clint claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder—"is m'friend. Bucky. He wanted to meet you. If y'know what I mean."
"That so?" Stevie says, looking Bucky over. What Bucky had thought was a skirt is actually a dress, covered in shimmery sequins and clinging to his body. Bucky takes a sip of his beer to buy some time, hoping the dim lighting hides the way he's blushing like crazy.
"Clint's an idiot, don't ever listen to him," he says, ignoring Clint's exclamation of protest. He stands up, delighted to find that Steve is just as short as he looks, the top of his head just reaching Bucky's chin. He holds out a hand.
"Bucky Barnes."
"Steve Rogers," Steve says. His hand is small and delicate-looking, but he has a firm grip. Bucky lingers a few seconds more than is strictly necessary on the handshake.
"Can I get you a drink?" Bucky offers. That earns him another look-over, and a slow smile.
"I'd like that," Steve says.
The kitchen is set away at the back of the house, and is thankfully empty, although noise from the guests out in the yard spills in through the open window. Bucky pulls a couple of cold beers out of the fridge and pops the caps, handing one to Steve.
"Thanks," Steve says. He takes a long swallow and Bucky watches, entranced by the long line of his neck and the way his lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle.
"Have you and Clint been friends for long?" Bucky asks.
Steve toys with the wrapper on his bottle and leans back against the kitchen table.
"Not really. I've known Sam for longer."
"Oh?" Bucky says. "I'm surprised I've never met you before. Where's Sam been hiding you?"
"I dunno, I've been around," Steve says. He glances up at Bucky. "Maybe you've met me and you just don't remember."
"Doubtful," Bucky blurts out, and blushes again. God, he needs to think before he speaks. He's usually good at flirting—Sam likes to tease him about being all talk and no action—but something about Steve is making him lose his cool.
Steve seems pleased nonetheless. He gives Bucky a smile and takes another pull on his beer. Then he stretches, shrugs off his jacket, and drapes it over the back of a chair.
"What's your major?" Bucky asks, desperate to avoid any awkward silences.
"Art. You?"
"Russian and post-Soviet studies."
"Yeah? You speak Russian?"
"..sort of?" Bucky says. "Like, I'm not fluent or anything."
"Fair enough," Steve allows. He sets his beer down decisively. "So. Can I ask you a question?"
"Uh, sure," Bucky says, confused.
Steve takes a step closer.
"You keep staring at me," he says. "You gonna just stare at me all night, or are you gonna do something about it?"
Steve's just within touching distance, looking up at Bucky from under his absurdly long eyelashes like he's daring Bucky to make a move.
"Been thinkin' about it," Bucky admits. That much must be obvious.
"Something holding you back?"
Bucky takes another sip of beer.
"Wasn't sure it'd be welcome, at first."
"And now?" Steve says softly, moving closer still.
"Now…"
Bucky's not as sure of himself as Steve apparently is, but he gathers up his courage and reaches out to run his hand over Steve's side, from his slim waist to the jut of his hip. Steve's intimidating, in spite of how small he is, and even though Bucky's ninety-nine percent sure that Steve's coming on to him, that Steve wants him, he's still afraid of rejection.
The sequins on Steve's dress are rough under his hand.
"You like my dress?" Steve asks flirtatiously, trailing one hand down the center of Bucky's chest. "Everyone says black's my best color."
"You look amazing," Bucky agrees. His voice is rough, a bit stilted—he's finding it hard to think while Steve's touching him.
"You're not so bad yourself."
Steve presses his palm flat to Bucky's chest, and Bucky wonders if Steve can feel the way his heart is pounding. He knows exactly where this is going, but it's still a surprise when Steve loops his arms around Bucky's neck and presses their mouths together.
The first couple kisses are nearly chaste, Steve's mouth tentatively moving against his own as they feel each other out, Bucky carefully tilting his head so they don't bump noses. Steve's lips are soft and dry.
"Okay?" Steve murmurs, pulling away, but still close enough Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed trying to look at him.
"More than okay," Bucky says vehemently, and just like that, Steve's mouth is back on his own, insistent and demanding.
Bucky's hands have been resting on Steve's hips, but the way Steve's kissing him is getting him going and he wants to touch Steve everywhere. Steve moans when Bucky grabs his ass, a good handful in each palm, and pushes him hard enough that Bucky takes a step back and stumbles into the fridge.
Their kisses turn dirtier, wetter, and when Bucky's hands wander down enough to find the soft bare skin of Steve's upper thighs, peeking out from the short hemline of his dress, Steve breaks off to shudder and breathe harshly against his neck.
"Feels good?" Bucky pants, pushing Steve's dress up higher. God, he loves dresses. Everything's so accessible.
"Yeah, don't—don't stop."
He slides his hands up under the dress and stops when he finds the juncture of ass and thigh, startled by the unexpected feel of soft lacey fabric under his palms.
"God, are you wearing panties?" he asks, cupping Steve's ass and squeezing, pulling upwards enough that Steve goes up on his tiptoes.
"Yeah, you wanna see 'em?" Steve says. He fits his hand over the bulge in Bucky's jeans, and Bucky bites back a groan. "Cause I can think of something of yours I wanna see."
"Fuck," Bucky manages, his head thunking back against the fridge when Steve rubs the heel of his hand over his dick. He's still got his hands up Steve's dress, and he pushes his fingers between Steve's cheeks, feeling him up through the lace. Steve moans again and grinds into Bucky's thigh.
"Can I—do you want to—my room's upstairs," he offers, unsure how far Steve wants to go.
"Yeah, I wanna," Steve says. "Do you have condoms? I'm not letting you fuck me without a condom."
"Jesus," Bucky swears, groping at Steve's ass. "You'd let me top you?"
Steve nods and that's it, Bucky's died and gone to heaven. He slips his hand right down the back of Steve's panties and rubs over Steve's hole, feels how small and tight it is against the press of his finger. It's going to feel so damn good stretched around his dick.
They stumble up the stairs together, pausing in the hallway to grope at each other and make out against the wall. As soon as they're in his room, Bucky shuts the door and yanks off his shirt, Steve's hands already busy with his belt.
Steve shoves Bucky's jeans down his thighs and gets on his knees to mouth at his dick through his briefs. Bucky takes a moment to be glad that he wore his favorite pair today, the dark blue ones that are snug in all the right places, showing off the heavy bulge of his dick. He braces himself with one hand on the door while Steve works at him until the fabric is damp and he's hard and aching.
Steve rests his fingers on Bucky's waistband and pauses, glancing up at him.
"Please," Bucky says in an unsteady voice, and Steve dips his hand into Bucky's briefs and pulls out his dick and balls.
"Oh, jesus," Bucky says faintly. Steve hasn't let go—he literally has Bucky by the balls, rolling them gently in his hand—and Bucky's legs feel shaky.
Steve wraps his slim fingers around Bucky's dick and eyes him approvingly.
"God, this is gonna feel so good inside me," he says, stroking Bucky from root to tip, pausing to rub his thumb against the head. "Can't wait for you to slip it in me."
Bucky inhales sharply.
"C'mere, lemme kiss you," he says roughly, hauling Steve up off his knees. He backs Steve up against the door and kisses him so thoroughly that they have to stop for breath. Steve looks flushed and dazed.
"Wow, okay," he says. "Let me just—"
Steve starts to take off his dress, but Bucky stops him.
"Can you keep it on?" he asks, one hand reaching down to touch himself. God, he's so fucking hard right now.
"You really like the dress, huh," Steve says, amusement clear in his voice. "I bet you just wanna bend me over and put it in me. We coulda done it right there in the kitchen. That get you hot? Thinkin' about bending me over the kitchen table, just pushing down my panties and sliding it right in?"
Bucky's hand tightens unconsciously on his dick. Steve smirks at him.
"Lube. Condoms," he requests. "My ass ain't gonna open itself, y'know."
All Steve's mouthy backtalk disappears when Bucky gets a couple fingers in him. He's face down, ass up on Bucky's bed, with his little black dress pushed halfway up his back and his lacey black panties down around his thighs. He's panting and shoving back against Bucky's fingers, so fucking needy for it that Bucky wraps his free hand around his dick and squeezes, trying to calm himself down enough to focus on the task at hand.
"'M ready," Steve whines after another couple minutes of dedicated finger-fucking. Bucky's half inclined to keep going, to see if he can rile Steve up a bit by teasing him a while longer, but he wants to get inside Steve just as much as Steve wants him there. He rolls on the condom and lubes up his dick, stroking himself quickly to get it evenly applied.
He spreads Steve's ass open with one hand and lines his dick up with the other, taking a moment to admire the sight of his cockhead pressed up snug against Steve's pink little hole. Even though Bucky just had his fingers stuffed up there, Steve still looks small and tight. He eases his hips forward and there's a split second of resistance before Steve starts to open for him. Bucky's a lot bigger than a couple of fingers, so he takes his time, slowly working the head of his dick inside.
He pauses when Steve's ass has finally swallowed up the thickest part of his dick.
"Jesus," Steve pants. "You stuff a Coke can up there while I wasn't looking?"
"Is it too much?" Bucky asks anxiously, holding as still as he can and petting at Steve's hip in what he hopes is a soothing manner.
"No, it's good, it's so good, you're just hung like a fucking horse, christ."
"Do you want me to—"
"Keep going," Steve says, and tilts his ass up.
It's easier after that, and it only takes a few gentle thrusts before he's all the way in, his hips flush with Steve's bony little ass. He stops again to breathe, reassuring himself that he's not gonna embarrass himself by going off too fast.
It's hardly his first time fucking a guy, but Steve is just so—there's something about the way he arches his back, the way the knobs of his spine peak out from under his rumpled dress, the curve of his mouth as he looks over his shoulder at Bucky—Bucky's got it bad.
The first time he pulls almost all the way out and slides back inside in one smooth motion, Steve moans so loud he's worried they might hear him downstairs. The lube squelches when he speeds up and the sound is so deliciously dirty and everything is so warm and wet and Steve that Bucky shoves in harder than he means to, pushing Steve up the bed.
"Fuck yeah, fuck me hard," Steve gasps, and everything devolves into the sound of skin slapping against skin and Steve's breathy moans as Bucky reaches down and starts jerking him off. His dick is slender and perfect like the rest of him, fitting just right in Bucky's hand.
Steve comes first, making a mess of the sheets beneath him and tightening up around Bucky's dick, crying out as he comes. After, he goes soft and pliant, letting his upper body take his weight, face pressed into the sheets and half-turned towards Bucky. Bucky keeps fucking him steadily, enjoying how relaxed Steve's body feels around him. It's not long before his thrusts stutter and stop, working his hips forward even though he's already as deep inside Steve as he can get.
He's careful to hold on to the condom when he pulls out, palming Steve's cheeks open with his other hand so he can watch the way Steve's hole clings to his dick as Bucky eases out of him inch by inch. He closes right up without Bucky inside to hold him open. Steve shifts his hips, probably stiff, and Bucky leans down and kisses his tailbone in silent apology.
He leaves Steve in bed briefly to go throw out the condom. Steve's curled on his side when he gets back, his head pillowed on his arm, dress still rucked up around his waist. He's kicked off his panties and they're lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Bucky lays down next to him and can't resist leaning in for a kiss. Steve's mouth is soft and sweet.
"Stay the night," he says impulsively.
Steve's eyebrows go up.
"If you're hoping for round two, lemme tell you right now, I'm not letting you put your monster dong in my ass again for at least twenty-four hours."
"No, I just…"
Bucky's about to say I just wanted to sleep next to you, but he reconsiders at the last second.
"I just thought maybe we could try it the other way around," he says instead. Much less clingy. Good job, self.
Steve looks genuinely surprised.
"Wow," he says. "Most guys, when they see a twink in a dress, they just wanna get their dicks wet. One and done. You sure you're not gonna feel all emasculated once you're on your back with my dick up your ass?"
Bucky shivers involuntarily, imagining what it'd be like, lying naked and exposed with Steve over him, holding his thighs apart to make room for his body.
"I'm sure," he says quickly.
Steve doesn't say anything for a long moment, just looks at him, and Bucky resists the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.
"Yeah, okay," he says at last. "I'll stay."