Archive of Our Own ^beta

The elevator is warm, stuffy. A heady scene crowds the tight space, only room for desperate, panting breaths. It’s a stark contrast to the enormous lounge where sexual tension had stretched until it burst. 

Bucky’s lower back digs into the railing, and he has to brace himself against the wall as an eager tongue draws circles along the side of his neck. His head is fuzzy, but he’s able to respond to the feverish movements despite the mead in his system. 

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice slurs, rumbling against Bucky’s skin. “Want you. Need you.”

A grunt slips from Bucky’s lips. Ever since they left the party— sorry, no, got kicked out because someone went out of control — Steve has latched himself onto Bucky like a koala climbing a tree. The fondling continues, arousal swelling in Bucky’s lower belly, while that beautiful waist, those irresistible hips, rolls directly against Bucky’s crotch. He moans. Denim and khaki prevent them from feeling each other fully, of rubbing their cocks together like the horner teenagers they both are. 

Bucky sneaks a hand behind Steve’s back and drifts lower, lower, and lower. 

“Fuck,” Steve gasps. 

Bucky grins into Steve’s glazed over eyes. “This belongs to me, sweetheart,” he says, emphasizing his words by curling his fingers into the flesh. Steve’s ass never fails to feel unbelievably incredible. 

A ding, and the elevator doors open to their shared floor. They stagger inside, with Bucky guiding, if not dragging, a very drunk and stumbly Steve. 

“Bedroom,” Bucky says between another heated kiss. He pushes his tongue past Steve’s pretty, soft lips, unable to not smirk when a sweet whine reaches his ears.  

Steve tugs blindly at Bucky’s henley. “I can get us there—” 

Unlike Steve, Bucky’s far less drunk. But try to tell this idiot to stand down. 

He won’t. 

The bedroom is only two doors down on the right, but as they smash their faces together in the hallway, the inner brat in Steve comes out of the woodwork. Bucky could easily lift Steve over his shoulder and smack that artwork of an ass, no problem. That would be too easy, though.  

Instead, he lets Steve take the wheel. 

And they end up in the guest bathroom.  

Bucky has to admit. It is kind of cute to watch Steve haul them toward the shower, only to freeze once the surroundings hit his brain. His adorable, stupid mind for a brain. God, Bucky loves this idiot. 

“W-where’d the bed go?” Steve fumbles around the counter and looks all around, as if the bed and everything else will magically reappear. Asgardian mead should come with a warning label. Not that Steve would heed its effects. 

Look. Bucky tried to stop him, okay? But one thing led to another, and well... Bucky’s always in for a bit of fun.   

“In the other room,” Bucky says, amusedly rolling his eyes. He pulls Steve closer so they’re embraced again. 

“Oh,” Steve says softly. “Can we still have sex in here?”

Bucky huffs. “Stevie,” he drawls, thumbs brushing the smooth skin of Steve’s jaw, “I’ll give you anything if you ask nicely.” 

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Steve glances over his shoulder, then returns his gaze. The blue in his eyes has diminished. Pupils dilated, obvious arousal spreading in that incredible body.

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” Steve slurs. 

That. 

Is not. 

What Bucky expected. 

“Uh,” he says, struck dumb. “You want to elaborate on that?”

Steve shrugs. “I heard it from a movie. Tit... Titanic!”

Bucky’s face falls and then morphs into an irritated expression. The one time he missed movie night.  

“Get in the shower, punk.”

Steve nearly trips over the ledge, but Bucky catches him in time. So eager, even with the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. Normally, sex would start out slow, and the real deal would transpire after enough foreplay to last them a lifetime. 

This is not like most times. 

In the bedroom, Steve is bossy. Always wanting it his way, done this way or that, leaving no room for argument. It’s kind of fun, not gonna lie. But it can also be taxing, if or when Steve decides to show an attitude. 

“Take ‘em off, c’mon, Buck,” he says as Bucky’s in the process of tugging a squirming Steve's pants down. “Don’t have all night.” 

“You got a meeting or something?”

“With your dick,” he giggles, fucking giggles. 

All right, then. Two can play this game. 

“Spread your legs, Captain,” Bucky teases, his breath ghosting the shell of Steve’s ear as he leans in close. It’s like instant magic. 

Steve not only does that, but he also places his hands above his head against the shower wall. His form is unbelievable. Broad shoulders with such a perfect waist ratio, thick thighs, and even bigger biceps. Then there’s his ass. Round, plump, practically begging to be used.   

Bucky quickly strips himself and adds to the pile on the floor. While he’s out the shower, he searches through the cabinet for a couple supplies; lube, hm... yeah, he’ll use that.  

Steve’s breath shudders the second Bucky takes his cock in hand, stroking him into full hardness. The cock ring fits snugly around the shaft and behind Steve’s balls. Perfect. Now, to kick the shower on. 

The water streams around their large, naked, super-soldier bodies. There’s plenty of room since the shower had been made specifically for them, all thanks to some bribery with Stark’s deep pockets and endless connections. If they’re going to get freaky with their combined strength, they might as well go all out, right?   

“Buck, please,” Steve begs, cheeks flushed from more than the hot stream clouding the air. He pushes his hips out in a greedy offer. “Put it in me.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Your cock,” Steve moans, shuddering as Bucky teases him with light, gentle strokes. The tip has begun to leak, precome gushing out and around the head that Bucky scoops up before twisting his wrist. Another moan breaks through Steve’s throat. “Fill me with your cock. Do it, Buck. Fuck. Me.” 

Bucky merely hums. “Sure, pal. I’ll get right to it.”

“Please.” 

Impatient, impatient. Bucky tuts and shakes his head.  

“I gotta open you up first, silly.” 

“No. I need it, now,” Steve demands, authority entering his voice. He glares behind his shoulder, eyes slotting with Bucky’s. “Put your dick inside my ass or so help me god.” 

Oh. Hell-fucking- o. 

It seems the mead has influenced Steve’s horniness, his neediness. Because to go in raw? Push against those walls again and again, not even with a drop of lube? Fuck, why does Bucky find that hot?  

Yanking a handful of blond hair, Bucky tilts Steve’s head back and hisses against his ear, “You want it raw?” He doesn’t need to hear it, but Steve curses in eager agreement anyway. “Then you’ll get it my way.” 

The world’s loudest whine bounces against the walls.                       

Bucky presses a metal finger to Steve’s hole, dry, and thrusts past the tight ring of muscle. Steve’s body gives into the intrusion after a few more pushes. He pants against the shower wall, lashes laid beautifully over his soft cheeks. 

“Buck…”

“Sure you don’t want some slick?”  

“No. I can handle it.” 

“Yeah? We’ll see about that.”

Honestly, Bucky should’ve seen this coming, given that Steve isn’t one to back down from a challenge. Steve ‘I can do this call day’ Rogers has limits, whether he’d like to admit it or not. Whaling a punching bag until it shoots across the room is one thing. But constantly grunting and squirming underneath the burning ache is another.  

It lasts longer than Bucky expects. He curls his finger while keeping a tight grip around Steve’s cock, in match with the cockring to double the effects. The sound Steve makes when his second knuckle becomes swallowed is pitiful, high pitched, and sexy all at once.  

“Ah! Stop, stop.”  

“Need that lube now, huh?” Bucky smirks and replaces his dry finger with a generous amount of lube. A fantasy is a fantasy; doesn’t mean it has to become a reality, not always. The glide is smooth, unlike the first time when it’d been rough and tense.           

Steve cracks from the pleasure, utterly sweet moans echoing against the pitter-patter of the spray. His hair is slicked back from both the water and most likely sweat, due to the exertion.  

Let's turn that up a notch. 

Bucky clicks a button on his wrist, literally, within seconds of inserting another finger. It squelches messily as he presses firmly up against that sweet spot, the vibrations loud and relentless.  

“Ohh, fuuuck,” Steve wails, voice thick with need. He grinds down on Bucky’s hand, hips erratic. “Give it to me, Buck. C’mon, I can— ah, god.” 

Bucky’s lips curve. The new modifications to his arm came installed with other features. A built-in vibrator with multiple speeds, for one. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Steve nods erratically. “So good, s-so good,” he rambles, high on the pleasure, “‘m so drunk, it’s like—” 

“As if you’re on cloud nine?”  

Steve’s mouth parts into a silent moan. “Yeaaaah, I— Oh, god, Buck. I’m gonna come.” 

Immediately, Bucky rams his fingers further against Steve’s walls. He’s rewarded with muffled vibrations on top of a delightful, intense orgasm right before his eyes. The way Steve lets himself loose as the endorphins flood his body, how he tenses then relaxes, leaves Bucky in complete awe. It always has.  

Not too long after, the ache in Bucky’s groin becomes unignorable. He’s managed to control himself while indulging a very drunk, horny Steve, but his patience has run out. 

“Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing the head of his cock to Steve’s open, awaiting hole. He grunts as he buries himself inside that tight heat. Then, with his outstretched metal arm, he grasps onto Steve’s shoulder for leverage. 

The hint is clear, really. 

Steve takes it in stride. Hips bent, he meets Bucky upon each thrust. The connection, the love between them glows underneath the shower spray. Bucky maintains a merciless pace, the echo of skin smacking against skin loud, lewd, and utterly passionate. 

Bucky could stay here forever. 

Mead is greeeeat.  

And Bucky... Bucky is hoooot. His cock— god Steve is a slut for cock — is so hot and heavy inside his ass. The stimulation never, ever, ends. 

Steve isn’t sure how many orgasms he’s had thus far. Three? Four? He might be on number five at this point. Who caaaaares. His best guy is giving him the best sex of his life.  

It goes on and on, and on, until he suddenly finds himself on a soft surface. No longer wet. A warmth drapes across his back, and then he registers an even warmer body underneath his head. Oh. He’d know that chest anywhere. He rubs his cheek over Bucky’s left pectoral.

“You comin’ around?”   

Steve hums, eyes still closed. 

“You’re gonna have a massive hangover,” he hears Bucky muse aloud. “Guess who’ll have to care for you later?”

A part of Steve’s brain awakes, and he looks up at Bucky with affection. “Aren’t you already doing that?” 

Bucky smiles. “Yeah, I am.”