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One of the best perks of being a Captain now, Steve thinks, is that he can sneak away for a while sometimes and nobody asks where he’s going.
Or why he’s taking Bucky with him.
They just assume he’s got something important to do. Some mission or briefing or scouting. And Steve likes to think that’s a trust that he’s earned, at this point. He’d laid his life on the line for Bucky, sure, but he did the same for the others, and he’d do it again if he had to.
Besides, it’s not like he takes advantage. The free time he takes for himself is only ever like this, in the middle of the night, when everybody else is already asleep and Steve can make his way out into the dense forest where the trees capture any noise they make, and Bucky can press him back into the bark just like he did when Steve was still small, and Steve can marvel at the fact that, somehow, they’re both still here. Still together.
Like magnets. Or something else less embarrassing, maybe. Steve can’t think all that well with Bucky’s teeth pressed to the side of his neck.
“C’mon,” he murmurs into Steve’s heated skin, tugging at the material of his shirt. They’ve got a tent out here they smuggled out of camp several days prior, with nothing but a bed roll and a first aid kit.
They’ve been catching up so far, getting comfortable again. They touch each other but the clothes have stayed on, and Steve finds himself weirdly more self conscious to show Bucky this version himself than the one from before.
He’s scared, a little, because even if Bucky swears up and down that it’s what’s inside that counts, Steve knows that before, he could kind of pass for, well. Something more feminine. Without that, it’ll be more obvious what this is and what they’re doing together, and if it makes Bucky want him any less, Steve damn well might have some sort of attack despite his lungs being just fine now.
“I don’t know, Buck,” he says, but he doesn’t fight the hand that tugs him toward the tent and lifts the curtain for him to climb inside.
It’s the same as it’d been the last time they were here. Steve sits back on the bed roll while Bucky zips them in, a dim lantern set to the side so they can see. He climbs onto Steve’s lap with practiced ease, though they can both feel the added stretch of his legs trying to fit around Steve’s thighs.
“You get yourself all beefed up and now you don’t want me, Rogers?”
The corner of his mouth is tipped into a ghost of that wry grin Steve loathes and adores in equal measure, but the twitch of Bucky’s hands in the material at Steve’s shoulders betrays him.
“What? No, I—” Steve shakes his head, bringing his own hands to Bucky’s hips. “Think m’always gonna want you, Buck.”
“Yeah?” Bucky’s smile turns more genuine as he leans in to nudge at Steve’s chin with his crooked nose. “I missed you, y’know.”
Even after all these years, it still makes Steve’s chest go warm.
“Y’did?”
Bucky nods. “Thought I wasn’t gonna see you again.”
“Buck…”
His hands rise from Steve’s shoulders up to his jaw, thumbs stroking idly over the rough skin. Steve slips his fingers past Bucky’s hip to press into his lower back and draw him closer, leaning up to taste his mouth.
For all the time they don’t have, it always seems like it should be harder than this. Faster. Rougher. But kissing Bucky is always deep and slow and nice, the best damn thing Steve’s ever felt. Regardless of what their bodies are doing, this part is always soft, never changes.
Bucky splits from him, dragging wet kisses down the side of his neck. His hand tightens on Steve’s bicep. “Just lemme touch you for a little. I haven’t—haven’t gone with anyone since you. ‘Fore I left.”
“Bucky,” Steve exhales shakily.
“Stevie,” Bucky answers, easy as ever. “Missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” Steve admits. He pushes lightly at Bucky’s shoulder. “I want this, but you gotta—things are different now, okay? If I hurt y’at all, you gotta promise you’ll tell me.”
“Swear it to ya,” Bucky grins, tossing up a salute. “Now touch me, Captain.”
Steve scowls and flips him onto his back on the bed roll, because he can’t get enough of the way it makes Bucky’s eyes light up each time he pushes him around. He’d thought he’d appreciate the added strength most when it came to fighting, but he’s curious to find that what does it for him the most is the fact that Steve has the strength to do so much damage, and yet he doesn’t. He hasn’t changed on the inside, not really. He can just give Bucky what he needs—what they both need, if he’s honest—a little easier now.
They make out messily for a bit, rutting lazily against each other. Bucky’s a better kisser than he is, all suave moves and a coy tongue and his fingers tugging at all the sensitive spots in Steve’s hair that make him moan. But Steve sort of likes being a little deliberately messy about it himself, likes throwing Bucky off his game and getting him just as flustered as he always makes Steve.
“Lemme suck you,” Bucky says against the corner of his mouth. “C’mon. Budge up a little.”
That’s probably a little easier than anything else they could get up to tonight. Steve strips his top half and eases off of him to let Bucky switch their positions, watching as he strips off his own sleep shirt. Steve settles on his back on the bed roll, one arm bent behind his head, and Bucky crawls toward him, all molten eyed and intent, a man on a mission.
He takes Steve’s wrists and pins them above his head as he settles onto his torso again, and Steve keeps them there obediently as Bucky presses a kiss to his lips, his chin, the base of his throat, his chest. He takes a minute to get Steve all hot and bothered, plucking at his nipples and leaving teeth marks in the swollen pink skin, before he continues down his stomach toward Steve’s eager hips.
Steve’s hard, has been for a while now. Probably since he snuck out of camp with Bucky in the first place. It doesn’t take much to get him going these days, especially not where Bucky’s involved.
But he feels it tenfold when Bucky’s chin presses into the shape of his dick under his pants, barely stifling a groan as he bucks upward in search of friction. It feels—different than Steve’s own fist. Feels incredible.
With a little smile that tells Steve he’s already pleased with himself, Bucky holds eye contact and very deliberately kisses his bulge over the material before quickly popping the button and undoing the zipper; equal parts a tease and impatient.
They’ve grinded against each other lately, but Steve’s body seems to understand that tonight’s a little different. That Bucky’s hand doesn’t stop at his belt, not at the band of his briefs, not even against firm, hot skin underneath.
The material is unceremoniously yanked down to his thighs, and Steve’s cock slaps up against his taut abdomen already a little sticky at the tip, eager as ever for Bucky’s attention.
“Oh,” Bucky breathes. “Look at that. Got bigger everywhere, didn’t you, Stevie?”
Steve’s eye roll is lost to the way he shivers, trying not to push into the feeling of hot breath so near to where he needs it. “Shut it.”
“You shut it,” Bucky grumbles offhandedly, eyes single-focused on Steve’s lap. “Me n’little Steve are about to get reacquainted.”
“Idiot,” Steve says fondly.
And then Bucky’s spitting on his hand and getting a slick palm around him proper, and it’s all tight and wet and body heat and Steve loses himself for a minute. He can hear Bucky talking to him, undoubtedly filthy things, but it goes in one ear and out the other as Steve tries desperately to keep his head up so he can watch. It’s been so long, and he needs to see this.
Bucky presses a smile into his hip, stroking him faster. He laves kisses at the crease of his thigh, sinks his teeth in just enough that Steve gasps and jerks in his grasp. The thrum inside of Steve’s stomach feels tighter than the times he’s had to bring himself off in the bathroom or behind some empty building, like maintenance. Getting something out of his system.
But both of them know Bucky won’t ever be something he gets over, and there’s such a stark difference between purpose and pleasure here, the inherent way Bucky seems to know how to handle his body better than he does—even if it’s a completely different one than before.
And then, then Bucky leans forward and takes Steve into his mouth, and Steve has to yank down one of his hands so he can bite the backs of his knuckles to keep quiet. He hasn’t been with anyone else since Bucky either, not enough time even if he’d wanted to. Bucky’s mouth is too much and just right, and Steve wants more as badly as he feels the need to get away from the insistent suction and enhanced sensitivity of his new body.
“Buck—” he says when he gets close, lowering a hand to slip it through Bucky’s hair, to press it against his cheek. He’s shaking with it, nearly.
But Bucky only flutters his eyes open and stays, presses into Steve’s hand on his cheek as he brings his mouth to the head of Steve’s dick and lets his hand work over the rest. He looks a mess, his hair disheveled and flushed down to his collarbones and dark pink nipples, lips so red he looks like he’s wearing rouge.
And Steve feels that thing again—that knowledge that he could rip this tent and everything inside of it apart with his bare hands, balanced right on the edge of control. And yet Bucky digs his heels in and stays regardless.
How could Steve have ever thought he’d do anything different?
He tugs lightly at Bucky’s hair again as he starts to come, both blindsided and relieved when it all starts to unravel. He feels flooded completely with heat, like sparks dancing on his skin.
Used to, they’d have to be careful about this. Steve couldn’t get too worked up beforehand or he’d kick off an asthma attack or get himself all dizzy, and nothing killed the mood quicker than the threat of Steve fainting while they were going at it.
He shudders through it and then lifts his head to look down his body to Bucky again, but it’s—he’s still going, and it doesn’t stop.
Steve’s eyes widen a little at the sight of himself still shooting off across his stomach and Bucky’s face and fist, his climax turning a little sharp at the edges.
“Fuckin’ hell, Stevie,” Bucky says, gravel and low. He moves his fist slowly now, coaxing it out. “How long s’it been?”
Steve grits his teeth. He’d flush in the face, if all his blood weren’t rushing elsewhere at the moment. “S’morning.”
“No shit?” Bucky laughs, breathy and disbelieving.
“Must be a…side effect,” Steve manages, gasping when Bucky’s thumb pushes up against his frenulum. “Oh, oh. Bucky.”
“Fuck,” Bucky curses, long and drawn out and warm. He scoots up a little on his stomach between Steve’s legs, licking his lips. “You’re still goin’, sweetheart. Look at that. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”
“Don’t—” Steve chokes, shivering so badly he nearly bites his damn tongue. Feels like he’d die if Bucky took his hand away. Fuck. Is he crying? “Don’stop.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Bucky urges. Steve’s cock shoots off again and Bucky aims it back at his mouth, jerking him quick and thorough. “Not gonna stop ‘til you’re all done. Get it all over me, Stevie, c’mon. Wanna wear it like a medal.”
His hand tightens in Bucky’s hair, and he turns to press a kiss to Steve’s palm just as another streak of come paints his cheek.
“B-Bucky.”
“Got you. I gotcha, Steve. Easy.”
He doesn’t move the wet, sticky pressure of his fist, but he gets his knees underneath him enough to push up a little and get a hand around himself too. Steve can’t do anything but lay there and watch him from underneath, tense and breathless as he keeps coming, and Bucky curses, painted golden in the dim light from the lantern with cream-white streaks of Steve’s come on his hips, his hands, his chest, his pretty face.
“Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart.”
He shoves his pants aside and pulls out his own cock, lining it right up next to Steve’s and using the excess ejaculate to slick the way. Steve groans, thinks he might white out for just a second before Bucky’s gasping through his own release and shuddering on top of Steve as he pulls them both finally through the last of their orgasms.
It takes a minute for the ringing in Steve’s ears to stop. He’s panting nearly as hard as Bucky is at this point, more exhausted than he is even after fighting.
But for once, for the first damn time since he’d gotten the serum in the first place, he feels sated.
Bucky grumbles and slumps to one side of him, tossing an arm over his eyes and murmuring nonsense. The tent has grown warm, sticky with humid air, and their skin clings everywhere they’re touching each other. With his pants still only halfway down his legs, Steve drags him in close and Bucky goes easily, face planting into his armpit while Steve strokes a shaky hand through his hair.
“Holy shit, Stevie,” he says eventually.
Steve lets out a strangled laugh. “Yeah.”
In the aftermath, the forest around them feels so quiet, their own mismatched breathing loud inside the tent. Steve likes him just as much like this as he does with Bucky’s hand around his cock, always been the type to get clingy after things like this. He’s glad Bucky hasn’t changed in that sense either.
Steve turns to drag his lips against Bucky’s forehead, shifting so they’re both on the bed roll as much as they can be. There’s things they can use to clean themselves off in the first aid kit, probably, but Steve wants to hang onto the afterglow for just a few moments longer first.
Bucky’s not the only one who thought he wouldn’t get to have this again.
Lazily, Bucky digs his chin into Steve’s pec and grazes his teeth there harmlessly. “You think it’ll be like that every time I get y’off now?”
“Dunno,” Steve sighs.
“Wanna find out?”
He groans, reaching over to pinch Bucky’s chest until he yelps. “Gimme a minute, jerk.”
But then he turns over to grab for a towel, and Bucky’s lying there splayed open and happy and alive—and covered from head down his chest in Steve’s come—and reaching a coy couple of fingers out to swipe at the mess on Steve’s stomach before it’s fully dried. Slipping them inside his mouth, onto his tongue, eyes closing as he moans.
Steve drops the towel. He has a feeling they’re gonna be here for a while.