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bakerstreet2014-08-11 08:28 am
thelegendof) wrote in bakerstreet2014-08-11 08:28 am
In Heat/Rut
not an alpha/beta/omega meme
There's no need for elaborate backstories for this AU. You go into heat, rut, whatever you'd like to call it. You've always done so since you were of age to do so. It's a socially accepted norm, and people have gotten used to the difficulties that come with the mating seasons. Life goes on.
Isn't this alpha/beta/omega, then? No, not at all. In this meme, there are no gender-variant genitalia unless your character comes prepackaged with those. No giant cocks - again, unless your character is already packing - or self-lubricating assholes or anal wombs, and no knotting. Unless that's your thing. There's also no set in stone roles with regards to dominance and submission, and some people do not even feel the inclination towards either. Still, there are a few similarities, mainly being that the pheromones of others can put someone into heat that was not in it before and the bond between mates. In addition, some humans/human-stand-ins have created packlike dynamics in response, but this is not universal.
In this meme, it's just regular old human...oids feeling the urge for sex. And by "urge," we of course mean all-consuming drive. If characters choose to ignore that urge, it will backfire on them. The more they put it off, the more they will lose their control, becoming more irritable and aggressive, and eventually be nothing but a rutting animal until the need to mate is satisfied. Not all heats call for mating, of course, and most people can just relieve themselves, but when you do mate, you feel the urge to stay by their side and essentially "nest." These desires don't always pan out into offspring, and mating isn't forever unless it's mutually decided upon. However, impregnating your mate is said to be one of the most euphoric experiences a person can have, even if some people only mate because they want to utterly possess someone, as mates are bonded for a while.
If there's anything that's to your fancy that's been left out, go ahead and add it in. Play it how you'd like!
HOW TO PLAY
- Comment with your character and preferences.
- Include what you're interested and not interested in.
- Respond to others!
PROMPTS
- first heat: Baby's first heat. YOU'RE A TEENAGER/LATE BLOOMER AND WHAT IS THIS?
- old hand: You've done this a million times, but it never gets any easier.
- happen to be here: You're not picky. You can't afford to be. You'll take anybody who's nearby.
- old faithful: You're going to the person you always go to in order to relieve your problem.
- worked something out: The two of you aren't involved. You just help each other out.
- unexpected: You never expected to rut with this person, but here you are.
- forbidden: AKA the obligatory incest or age difference option.
- volunteer: You've offered yourself up out of the kindness of your heart.
- tribute: This isn't your offer. You're the offer from others, a gift for someone powerful to sate their appetite.
- mating: You've decided to go one step further and make your relationship deeper.
- nesting: Aaah, (temporary) domestic bliss. And lots of fucking. Lots and lots of fucking. Like, you'll barely be able to stand.
- bonding: The bond, which is mildly psychic and intensely physical, makes sex even more intense.
- the natural conclusion: Heat calls for pregnancy. Get someone pregnant.
- already pregnant: Unfortunately, being knocked up doesn't abate your partner's desires. Or yours.
- mates for life: Now you're absolutely certain that you want to be with no one else. Of course, this means you'll be in synch with their heat for the rest of forever.
- save you: You've been saved from the advances of an undesired mate by someone who may be much more suited. Show your gratitude?
- cockfight: Two people want the same mate. That won't do. There are ways to figure that out, not always involving fists.
- increase in dominance: Exactly what it says.
- increase in submission: Again, exactly what it says.
- unexpected dominance: No one expects you to ever be dominant. Prove them wrong.
- protect: You want to protect your mate from others, and that means putting your scent all over them.
- set off by someone else: You were doing fine until you got a whiff of someone else's pheromones.
- resisting temptation: Your heart belongs to someone. You want to stay out of this "heat" thing. You want to rise above it. Whatever it may be, you just have to not take the bait. Easier said than done.
- all worked up: You're beginning to lose control and yourself. Quick, do something before you're jumping anything that moves.
- pack: As mentioned prior, some people, especially those far out from civilization proper, have formed packs that hold to the more traditional alpha structure. Of course, these packs come with their own rules when it comes to heat and mating.
- suitable partner: The desire for certain mates can come from a subconscious level, and you can find yourself aroused by someone showing how strong they are (they can protect you), how curvaceous they look (that must mean they're fertile), or any other number of traits that can benefit you.
- desperation: You'll take anyone! Anything!
- final release: You've reached your breaking point and your mindless. At least you'll get relief.
- fighter: Part of your process is seeing who's worthy of you by testing their mettle. That, or you want to fight anything.
- off your meds: It's fairly rare, but some can get blockers for their heat. What if those blockers run out? Why, it makes your heat ten times worse!
- noncon: They don't want this. You don't want to stop this.
- dubcon: You say no, but your body says yes and you can't stop loving it.
- calm you down: Whether it's to fuck or to fight, you're going mad, and they have to bring you back down to Earth.
- territorial: How dare someone look at what belongs to you? You'll have to make things right.
- odd man out: For some reason, you don't go into heat. Never have. Being with you is pretty relaxing, and some find it appealing to not have to deal with pheromones that aren't theirs. You do have to learn how to appreciate their problems, though.
- WILDCARD
no subject
Although he's got to admit, he wasn't quite expecting the kiss so suddenly, either. Bucky tugs on his collar and Steve's leaning in before he knows it - it's reflex, between them - and their noses bump and the kiss is sloppy but it's a kiss, once their lips meet. Steve's not the world's greatest kisser, but he's not unfamiliar with the concept or the execution - it's just that usually when he helps Bucky, that's all it is: help. There's not usually a whole lot of intimacy past the raw physical kind that Bucky needs, and Steve's okay with that; it's sort of been the same on his other dates, the few times he's managed to get past just the talking. He's always sort of figured people in heat weren't much interested in making sure their partner was satisfied, they were too busy filling up that need for themselves. It's just what he's used to - giving his partner what they need, and sure, it feels good, but he's not used to getting a lot in return. He almost doesn't expect it, really - can't blame anyone either, he's not exactly a study in physical appeal and he knows it. So even a kiss, a sloppy one, feels like something kind of special - something that gets this little twist of heat going in his stomach, even as he's letting out this surprised (but not unhappy) sound against Bucky's lips, and instinctively tilts his head, trying to align their lips together a little better.
Despite his surprise, he's managed to get his fingers around Bucky's - and then, the next time Bucky's fingers slide desperately over his cock, Steve's fingers try to push them out of the way so he can start doing the same, trying to keep up the same pace. It takes him a second to get the angle and the movement right as Bucky changes position and turns toward him; Steve takes the opportunity to try and move onto the couch a little more, to straddle Bucky's hips on his knees, fingers tightening against Bucky's shoulder as he tries to support his weight above him without either stopping his other hand or breaking the kiss, once their lips get better aligned. Although he's got to pull his mouth away a little a minute later to ask, "Like this?" He's still not sure his hand is what Bucky wants, but if he needs more, at least Steve's in a position to let Bucky work on his clothes and he can keep touching Bucky while he does it. He figures that's the best way - give Bucky plenty of freedom to take what he needs. Anything Steve's got is his, that concept is nothing new between them, at least.
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It's that's little startled sound against his lips that has Bucky start to back off hurriedly, he's never kissed Steve before, that opens up a whole 'nother can of worms that really doesn't need opening when Steve already helps him out when he shouldn't have to. There's this sinking feeling despite the arousal that he just pushed that on Steve. "Sorry, sorry-"
Only Steve tilts his head, and their lips just fit. It's even better than that clumsy smash of lips. That surprised sound that comes from him this time gets swallowed up, flutters against Steve's lips as a soft groan.
Steve moves to straddle him, sitting on his knees, fingers gripping his shoulder for balance as he doesn't quite rest all all ninety-something pounds on his hips yet - God, he wishes he would, but he knows not to press it. Up to Steve what pace to take, even though it's killing him here to be patient but he's never, ever going to be one of those people in a heat who throw themselves at the other person and just start grinding off on them. Steve's settling into what he always does when a heat gets really bad; Steve's urging his fingers out of the way and Bucky complies, grunting a little as Steve's fingers take over and wrap around his stiff cock, start trying to work his straining erection at the same pace Bucky had been. It's close, not nearly as frantic, but it hurts a little too. Not enough to get rid of the heat, but it's not entirely helping either. Bucky's hips squirm and roll under Steve, unsure whether to thrust into his palm or back off into the couch, while his hands hover uselessly over Steve's haunches.
Bucky's breath comes hot against Steve's chin when he pulls away. He wants more, but maybe Steve working him over will be enough, maybe he doesn't have to put so much on Steve all the time, so Bucky nods instead. "Yeah, like that, just....can you lick your palm or something?"
Or - and Bucky's eyes dart down towards the slim hand wrapped around his cock, tongue darting out unconsciously- or he could do it for him, he'd really like that.
That should be enough, but Bucky blunders on, his voice uneven; "Can I touch you?" And because that's stupid, of course he does have to touch him, Steve's done more than just a handjob to help him out, but- Bucky's flushing a little, he's never made this request. "I mean, not just take your clothes off. But if you don't wanna, that's fine too."
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Steve's still feeling about two steps behind; so when Bucky asks if he can touch him, he doesn't quite get that Bucky is asking on Steve's behalf, and not his own. He blinks, pausing at the question, because it's just as unexpected as the kiss. He's usually the one touching, not being touched. Oh, it's not so completely one-sided as that, but the touches he gets are usually absent or desperate or demanding, whether they're from Bucky or one of Steve's few second or third dates. It's a little impersonal, usually, like anyone would do, it doesn't matter to his partner that it's Steve in particular they're touching, but that's what he's expecting, and that's fine with him. So while he doesn't know the reason for the question, he doesn't even have to consider the answer before he gives it - it's automatic: "Yeah - of course," he says. "You can do anything you need to, Buck - I don't mind."
His body's not excited yet - Steve figures either he'll get excited or he won't, but either way it won't matter to how Bucky comes out of this. That's what matters, although the truth is that more often than not, even with his pretty long build-up time... Sex is sex, and Steve doesn't get heats, but he's not dead, either. He'd just figured, well, if Bucky's satisfied enough before Steve can get any relief, he can just take care of himself.
Although if Bucky wants to touch him... There's the beginnings of this excited sort of arousal starting to blossom in his gut, at that thought. He's not sure why it's so very appealing, the way Bucky asked, but it's not exactly a bad thing to have someone want to touch you, no matter the reason, is it? Maybe he should say that. "I mean... I'd like that. If you want to."
It's true, too - sure, they've gone farther than just handjobs, and the question Bucky's just asked has pretty much tipped Steve off to the fact that his hand isn't going to be enough here. But bad heat or not, Bucky won't hurt Steve, so what's the real harm in anything else he wants or needs to do?
If Bucky wants more than Steve's hand, though... He's trying to think ahead. They've got a jar or two of Vaseline in the bathroom, just for things like this. He's thinking maybe it's better than just saliva, too, but on the other hand maybe he should give Bucky a little relief, try to make him come at least once, before Steve abandons him to get it.
Steve brings his hand to his lips, starts to lick a wet line up his palm, but encounters a strange taste and stops, brows knitting. He pulls it away for inspection and realizes that he's got pastel smudged all down the side of his hand, across his palm where he was holding the sticks, and it's not exactly the most pleasant of tastes. He looks at the hand on Bucky's shoulder and realizes it's in the same shape.
Oh. Maybe that Vaseline is the better idea - and maybe he should get it now, although he's a little slow in actually extricating himself from Bucky, looking sheepish for a moment instead. "Wait, I've got pastels all over my hands." Maybe he should wash them while he's at it, or he's going to get it all over Bucky and possibly the couch, too.
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This time's gonna be different. He's making Steve feel good, if it's the last thing he does. And the few times he saw Steve's face go slack with pleasure, it had been burned into his mind; Steve's face got this really nice flush, those long, sinful lashes fluttered against his pale skin-
And Steve doesn't have that much luck on dates. Bucky can't think of a single time where he's gotten laid - if at all- without the other person being in heat, much less gotten taken care of. 'Course it's not helping either that now Bucky's in heat, but he wants to do it right. Bucky repeats that in his head, tries to drive that, brand it there so when the heat comes crashing in more (he can feel the worst of it at the edges, he's taking too long), it'll be there. Don't hurt Steve, never hurt Steve, make him feel good, real good.
His eyes watch Steve's tongue dart out, lick a line up his palm that has his hips canting, as if he can thrust his flushed cock between those lips with a small moan. Only Steve doesn't keep going, his eyebrows knit and he pulls away, then he's looking all over his skin. Why isn't he touching him?
Pastels. Right. Dirty hands. He doesn't even care if Steve's going to smear that stuff all over him, he just wants to touch him, be touched. It doesn't strike Bucky that stuff is stuff you don't want to go ingesting, not with the pigments in the artist grade stuff Steve saves up for. All he knows it that he wants to help Steve out here. He doesn't mind. Really. So Bucky's hand darts out, wraps around that thin wrist, and brings his hand towards his, lips wrapping warm and wet around his index finger; tongue curling around the pad of the fingertip as his eyelids slide half-shut. His other hand smooths up Steve's thigh, up and down, palm flat and fingers gliding. He hesitates then slides his palm over those hips and down against Steve's crotch, the heel of his palm rubbing insistently against him.
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But in the second that he hesitates, Bucky's fingers start sliding up and down his leg, over the fabric of Steve's slacks. They feel hot, he can feel it through his pants, and they feel good. It's distracting - distracting enough that when Bucky grabs for his wrist, Steve lets him - until suddenly Bucky's lips slide over the skin of one finger, the soft, supple, hot touch of his tongue pressing against the same fingertip. Steve lets out this sound he doesn't think he's ever made before. It's halfway between a squeak and a groan. His eyelids are just starting to flutter when Bucky's hand on his leg switches tracks without warning. Bucky's not pulling any punches with this wanting to touch Steve thing, because there's suddenly the hot, firm warmth of Bucky's palm sliding right over Steve's cock through his pants, and his hips give this jerk as heat suddenly blossoms in his stomach and starts spreading through his veins at lightning speed - and Bucky's still licking at his finger; Steve groans, starts to forget how to think for a second, sags against Bucky and shivers in this way that gives him just a little more friction, in the process.
No one's ever touched him quite like that before. There were a couple of times, on dates, when said dates got annoyed when he wasn't ready to go right out of the gate once they got down to things. Those girls had done their best to "help him along" - insistently, sometimes almost painfully so, grinding or squeezing or anything else to get a reaction out of him. But this isn't that - yeah, it's insistent, but it's a different kind of insistent. A good kind. Defintely not painful. But while Bucky's probably been the gentlest, most courteous person he's ever "helped" with a heat, he's never been all that much for reciprocation, either. It only happened when Steve was so close to the edge that it was almost impossible to pull back from it, and it had taken so little effort to push him over the final hurdle into orgasm that Bucky hadn't really been so very responsible for it, consciously, as just gotten Steve off at the end by moving against him in the right way at the right time.
Bucky's definitely moving against him in the right way now. Steve's brain shorts out for a second, but thankfully it's only for a second. The next time Bucky's tongue slides against his skin, Steve comes back to himself with a start. "Buck -" he says; it's half a gasp, but he manages to start tugging his hand away, even as his hips are trying to get closer to the heat of Bucky's palm. "Stop, stop - you can't eat that stuff." It's not even so much the dirty hands as the fact that he knows what's in those pastels, and maybe there's not really enough on his hands to matter, but he doesn't want to find out the hard way. "It's poisonous, stop. Lemme wash my hands, I can get the Vaseline."
He feels his face flushing as he says that - funny, that it's doing it now, and not at the way Bucky's got a hand between his legs - or at the way that hand seems to have gotten his body's attention, and definitely a lot faster than anything else Steve was doing had been. He tries to pull both hands back toward himself, arms tucked up against his chest, as he stands his ground even in the face of the sudden rush of blood right down to his cock. "It'll only take a second."
His argument's probably a little less convincing, given how breathless he thinks he sounds.
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He has to gasp for breath around his finger. He works him firmly, cups him through the slacks, clever fingers feeling the shape of him, trying to coax him to hardness even as his own cock sits painfully neglected against his stomach. He's reaching with his free hand to pop the button, he's got this idea he wants to run with, make sure Steve gets a good time and not just by accident or luck this time. It feels like he's gonna go mad here any second, but he holds on. Not until he's taken care of Steve.
Like willpower's gonna hold back a strong heat for long. Never does. He's going to damn well try.
He blinks owlishly up at Steve for a moment when Steve's finger slides out from his mouth, as Bucky's hand traces the shaft filling out in Steve's clothes with his thumb and forefinger. His eyebrows furrow. What?
All he got out of that was "stop" (that has him wanting to freeze with a little panic, did he hurt Steve or something? Do something he didn't want?) and Vaseline (oh thank god, he can almost feel the relieving thrums of pleasure as he's fucking something or getting fucked, he doesn't even care any more), which means Steve's going to get off of him. And if he comes back with that now, Bucky just knows he won't be thinking of Steve too much, he'll want to get off.
"The Vaseline can wait, I'm okay," Bucky lies through his teeth with a hell of a lot of effort. He can't wait. He's so desperate that for a moment, he's really thinking of just turning over, throwing the last of his dignity out the window and humping at the couch cushions.He feels like he's going to fly out of his skin any second, or he's going to burst or die or anything, but there's something about taking the time to actually touch Steve, get that pulse thrumming excitedly that's almost enough to hold it at bay even for a second. He'll do anything Steve wants, anything, just name it.
Bucky's larger hands both settle on his hips, then slide down to cup Steve's ass through the trousers, nudging him forward, trying to get him to scoot up so he can straddle his face, just rest on his knees, maybe sink his cock between his lips and thrust away. The thought brings this sudden, harsh groan out of him, he can almost taste him at the back of his tongue for a moment, and that has his cock twitching against his stomach. He wants to make sure he comes before the heat gets really worse, before he can't think much more; now's the time to do it.
"Let me take care of you for once, please," he says insistently, throatily.
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Bucky says he's okay - Steve's honestly not sure about that, but could a person in such a bad heat really lie? Why would they want to? He can't figure it out, so Bucky's got to be telling the truth; part of Steve, too, doesn't want to get up. A selfish part that's absolutely basking in the attention Bucky's giving him, even if he still doesn't know why. And so for a second, that request of Bucky's still doesn't make any sense. Bucky always takes care of Steve, always makes sure there's money coming in, makes sure Steve eats or has enough blankets or rolls him over so he doesn't get sick all over the bed. So during heats that have gotten bad is the only time Steve really gets to take care of Bucky, and he's been okay with that from day one.
But then take care of you suddenly takes on another meaning; it's the huskiness of Bucky's voice, the way his fingers were just tracing out the shape of Steve's hardening cock through his pants, the way Bucky's hands, still hot, so hot, are spread against him from behind, trying to urge him forward. Bucky's touches have all had that insistent edge to them, but they've had something else, too. He's not trying to get Steve hard just so Steve can fuck him - they've done that too, when Bucky wants it that way, and not the other way around. He's trying to get Steve hard so he can… make Steve feel good, make him come?
Steve shivers again at that idea, whether it's the right or wrong one, even as his body starts to follow Bucky's wordless prompting, hips scooting up his stomach and chest some, pausing just at Bucky's throat because he's not entirely sure what Bucky's thinking, where he wants Steve to end up or how.
"Okay," he breathes; anything that can get Bucky to groan like he did just a minute ago has got to be a good idea, in Steve's book. "What do you want me to -" He catches himself, realizes that he's always asking what Bucky wants him to do, because that's just the way things have usually gone. He tries to correct it, marveling a little at the concept - oh, but in a good way. It's like he's suddenly won some prize, like he's having the luckiest day on Earth, and honestly, the idea of coming because someone else wants to make him come has never not been appealing. He just never much got the chance to try it out. "What do you want to do? Just - don't lick the pastels," he adds with a half-laugh, just because saying that sounds a little ridiculous. "Anywhere else, but not the pastels, okay?" His head drops a little, blonde hair brushing the arm of the couch just over Bucky's head; he's got to put his hands on the couch for balance, too, and he just hopes he doesn't get pigment all over the fabric too badly.
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His eyes never leave that mouth-watering bulge starting to form in Steve's slacks; he did that, this part of him wants to crow a little, he can do better, Steve likes it. The rest of him, the rest that's losing out to the heat wants him to stop wasting time here, just grab him by the hips and force him to take all of his cock, slide into that tight heat. Bucky's breath shorts out, he can practically feel it. His hands go tight over his ass for a moment, digging in, until Steve moves away from temptation, settles over his neck.
He's going to open his mouth, tell him to be careful - sure Steve knows it, and sure he's just south of a hundred pounds but he'd rather not have him get lost in the moment and lean on him the wrong way. The part that's consumed with wanting to fuck Steve might not bail him out, might not actually have much of a self-preservation part to it.
Bucky shudders a little under Steve at the new question. It's the wrong question. The obvious answer is he really wants to screw Steve into the mattress or pillow or floor or bend him over across the table, hips slapping into his until he finally, finally comes in him. He really, really wishes Steve hadn't asked that; Bucky's cock gives this throb that's both pleasure and pain and a large drop of precum beads at the tip and drools onto his stomach. His legs part.
He reaches out quickly, and shakily begins to pop the buttons, slide the zipper down, and peel the fly back. There's this rising line pressing against his briefs, and Bucky can't resist. He nudges Steve forward so he can mouth against him through the fabric, presses desperate kisses against that bulge, before he reaches in to pull him out. Bucky's eyes darken as he stares for a moment. He's already half hard, he's gorgeous looking, why didn't Bucky do this before?
He doesn't tease him or start him off nice and slow. Bucky tilts his head up, lips parting around the head of his cock, and relaxing his jaw, Bucky starts to slide the hardening length into his mouth, tasting that musk and arousal on his tongue.
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Steve squirms a little, feeling the fabric of his briefs and slacks pressing against his growing erection, and it's starting to drive him a little crazy. Not crazy like a heat, of course, but crazy in the way that his body wants more, it likes what it's getting, and he's excited by the idea that Bucky might want to do anything more, give him a release before they even start in on the one he knows Bucky must be dying for. He almost starts to say something about that, to ask again if Bucky's okay waiting his turn like this, but the words die before he can get them out around the panting breaths he suddenly realizes he's taking when Bucky's hands go to his pants, open them without wasting a second, and then Steve's being urged forward a little more. He leans closer and - oh, oh, his jaw drops and his eyes flutter at the hot, moist press of lips against his hardening cock through the cotton of his briefs.
But even that little hint of paradise does't last long - he lets out a gasp that's harsher than he means, when the lips disappear, opening eyes he didn't realize had fallen shut just in time to see Bucky's hand moving. Then he feels Bucky's hand, feels the cool air of the apartment (well, cool relative to the way his body's heating up, degree by degree) hit his cock, and then Bucky's staring at him with this strange look on his face that makes Steve squirm a little again, this time with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. He's not sure why Bucky's staring, but then it doesn't matter. Bucky opens his mouth, and Steve all but stops thinking altogether.
Still, the funniest thought runs through Steve's mind, just then - I did say he could lick anywhere but the pastels.. And Bucky sure as hell is licking anywhere but the pastels; but it's not so much licking as enveloping Steve whole, inch by inch, with no warning and no time to prepare. Steve's been inside a girl, before - he's been inside Bucky, too. But no one's ever taken him in their mouth before, and it's a completely new experience. He's not even fully hard yet, but it doesn't matter - he's fully sensitive, and, right now, fully on his way to getting aroused all the way, and fast. He lets out a sound that's something like, "Hnnnng," thighs flexing and fingers curling tightly into the fabric of the armrest as Bucky's lips and tongue slide over skin that suddenly feels feverish and straining. He wants to push forward, but thinks he shouldn't - not into Bucky's mouth, it's different, he could choke him. Steve's body shivers with the effort of keeping still, his eyes watching Bucky's face - his mouth and lips - but they're having trouble staying in focus. "Oh," he manages to say, hips canting forward a little - then he stops dead, tries to hold still again. "Where did you learn to do that?"
He's not expecting an answer - doesn't want one, actually, given where his cock and Bucky's mouth are at the moment. He lowers his head the rest of the way to the armrest; he can feel little beads of sweat from his brow soaking into the fabric, and Bucky's hair is tickling Steve's stomach, making the muscles flutter. He wants to curl around Bucky, but he can't quite - the position is awkward and he's still afraid to press his hips forward, so instead he just arches his back, tries to lift up closer to Bucky's lips, then wars with himself again and tries to stay still again, chest heaving with each breath. "I don't care where you learned it," he says absently into the fabric of the couch, voice muffled, and he's just rambling now because his brain's not really at home, it's sliding down to where Bucky's lips are wrapped around his erection. "It feels so damn good."
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Bucky glances upwards when Steve makes this choked off sound, to find Steve's all but curled around him, bracing himself on the armrest, and his stomach nudging against Bucky's head as those thin hips shiver with the effort it's taking not to push in more. There's something raw about this, something he likes about the image here; he's completely naked, long limbs stretched out while Steve's straddling his shoulders, cock sliding past his lips while he's still clothed and quivering with the sensation and trying not to thrust forward. Then again, his dick's leading most of the show here and it's finding almost everything hot, but even if he wasn't caught in this heat, he thinks he'd really like it. He really thinks he likes that look on Steve's face, the way his eyelids flutter, how pleased he sounds, how good he sounds. Bucky manages a tight smile up at Steve around the throbbing length sliding past his lips, about all he can manage with his own erection sitting jutting up and angrily ignored. He's glad Steve likes it. Not enough people actually pay Steve enough attention, and he hates to say that times like these - before- Bucky had been one of them.
Learned it? It's not like he went around sucking dick like a regular event here. Bucky's cheeks flush a little; it's not all arousal either, it's a little embarrassment. He'd given head a grand total of once when he'd been caught in a heat while working overtime down at the docks. He hadn't noticed that the guys next to him had had gone into heat until later at night, when the pheromones hit him over several hours, and he'd dragged the guy off into one of the alleys. He remembers it well; dark, the lamp had been broken nearby, fumbling in the shadows as the guy's hand slipped down and groped at the bulge in his slacks, while Bucky just had this brilliant idea to get things started with more of a bang; he'd nudged the other man's hand off, sank to his knees on the wharf planks and start reaching for the other guy's zipper with eager hands. Luckily Steve had been dead tired, out like a light by the time Bucky had dragged himself back at about two in the morning, reeking of sex and aching in all the best ways and with this bitter taste he wasn't sure he really liked on the back of his tongue.
He's just going to tell Steve he's his first, he's naturally talented for a first timer, so Bucky just hums something generally non-committal around the vein pulsing against his tongue. Bucky's eyes close, and his head begins to bob, drawing that heated, heavy cock in and out. His hands tighten on Steve, trying to drive him forward, squeezing at cheeks of his ass through the slacks. Steve's asked what a heat felt like more than once, and he's never been able to get across the desperation, the need to screw that takes you over well enough. But maybe this will work, and Christ, he can practically see Steve clutching at the arm rest or his shoulders or his head and just rolling his hips against his mouth that his his cock crying out for attention behind Steve.
His hands nudge him forward again, wordlessly giving him permission here; Bucky's really not sure if this is another brilliant or brilliantly stupid idea in the heat of the moment but... maybe Steve can try it, try to screw past his lips. Bucky's mostly sure Steve won't hurt him, and if he thinks this is swell, pal, there's a lot to learn here. What he's worried about, however, is that he's not going to be able to touch it before that heat takes the last of him, before he's turning Steve and climbing over him, please, not yet-
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To top it off, Bucky keeps nudging, pulling, squeezing his ass, like he's trying to encourage Steve to rock forward. It's exactly what he wants to do, but he's still hesitant - this is Bucky's mouth they're talking about, he's got to breathe, and Steve's not sure Bucky's really in his right mind (in fact, he's a bit sure he's not). But at the same time, thrusting between Bucky's lips is pretty much exactly what Steve wants to do - he wants more of that slick, wet heat, and whatever Bucky's doing with his tongue along the underside of his cock, and that suction… yeah. He wants more. He wants a lot more.
And yet still, it's a bit of an internal war - on the one hand, Steve's pretty sure he'd like this to last forever. That would be great. On the other, he knows it can't - sure, there's the practical reasons, because of course it can't last. First and foremost, Steve has gone from normal to completely hard in what feels like a heartbeat, and he's not sure how long he's going to last when there's all this undivided attention on him. He tries to tell himself it's okay, though - when he's screwing someone in heat, he's got to last at least as long as they do, or they tend to get mad. If this is about him... he only has to last as long as he wants, right? And second, if he's got time to think about it, is the fact that he knows Bucky's hard and wanting, he can practically sense the need rolling off him in waves, and part of Steve wants to finish this, come, so he can give Bucky a hand. Maybe it's crazy, but he wants to come so he can show Bucky how much he appreciates the attention in the only way he's sure Bucky will really understand right now.
Either way, for whatever reason, there's one single driving force in him right now—he wants to come. And so, hesitantly at first, because he's not sure if Bucky's thought this through or how well it's going to work or if it's going to work at all, he grips the couch with both hands, digs his knees into the mattress, and gives this shaky, shallow flex of his hips, rolling forward, deeper into Bucky's mouth. He has to bite back a groan, shaking his head a little, trying to clear it and forcing his eyes open, trying to focus on Bucky's face - his eyes, his lips, to make sure Steve's not hurting him. He's already pulling his hips back again, retaking the small distance he'd rolled them forward, cock sliding to the edge of Bucky's lips, and now he's really shivering with the effort not to do it again, but he doesn't dare until he can see, clear and plain on Bucky's face, that that was the right thing to do. "O-okay?" he tries to confirm, mouth hanging open as he feels like he's wearing far, far too many clothes, but he doesn't really want to waste the time it's going to take to get them off - or lose the contact the head of his cock is still making with Bucky's wet, hot mouth. Bucky's lips look this perfect shade of red, even against the flush on his cheeks, but maybe, Steve thinks, it's because they're so perfectly wrapped around him, and he never thought that sight could get him as worked up as he is right now.
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Bucky's breath shudders out along Steve's cock as Steve's hips give something that's more of a half-roll, more of a twitch than an actual thrust, but it's enough to drive his cock an inch deeper into his mouth, and even just as good, is that look plastered on Steve's face right then. Like he's just barely keeping it down for the neighbors, or just barely keeping down what Bucky hopes is the filthiest groan ever heard in New York. His hips slide back - so it wasn't that deep of a thrust- drawing his cock out enough that Bucky's worried he's going to pull out, get the Vaseline. His cock gives this aborted little stab upwards as he shudders around the head of his cock sitting just on the tip of his tongue, lips wrapped around it.
Not until Steve's come, Bucky has to tell himself. Hes' going for fierce determination there, but it sounds weak even to himself. He's dying for it. He can practically feel Steve's muscles wrapping around him tight and-
His hands spasm a little on Steve's hips, a little too tightly before he forces himself not to pull Steve off him, forces himself to look at Steve. Steve's mouth is moving. It takes Bucky a second to realize he's actually saying something among the thundering in his head, the burning coursing through his body. Steve's looking to him, asking him if it's okay. Bucky nods, a little dumbly, tongue suddenly flattening itself along the blunt head of his cock, swiping at the slit and this low groan rumbles out of him as he tastes the first tang of bitterness beading up from it. It's okay. You'll love this, Bucky wants to say with his eyes here.
He's not sure if he's getting it across. Bucky's trying for supportive, but it might have come off as this desperate arousal. His hands squeeze again, give that little push that nudged him into that first thrust as he leans up, trying to ease Steve back between his lips, because he needs some encouragement. Go at it as much as you want.
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But when he asks if it's okay, Bucky's look is earnest, even if he's kind of giving Steve these heavily-mixed signals he's been getting all along. He truly believes that Bucky wants him to feel good, wants to make this about him and not the heat (not yet, anyway, although it's been about the heat since Bucky rolled over and started working himself, there's no denying that). But there's this desperation underneath everything Bucky does that Steve can't miss - he understands it, maybe not in literal terms because he's never felt a heat, but he knows Bucky, knows how heats affect him, and he can understand it like that. Bucky's dying here, and he's pretending he's not, but it's there, in the way his hands clench too tight on Steve's hips, in the way his eyes are dark and his pupils blown, in the way his arousal is practically this presence that's taken over every inch of Bucky's body.
"Sorry, sorry," Steve says when Bucky nudges him again, because he shouldn't draw this out, he should enjoy it but he should go at it like Bucky's trying to urge him to do, because in a way, that's still Bucky taking care of Steve. Bucky hasn't given in to the heat completely yet, but he's not going to be able to hold out for much longer, everything about him is screaming that he wants to turn this around and screw Steve like an animal but he won't let himself until Steve gets a little something for himself. This heat is bad - worse than any's been in a while; he can tell because Bucky has barely said anything, and yeah, okay, his mouth's busy at the moment, but mostly he's been giving Steve looks and pushing or pulling at him and groaning and grunting, but he's not talking much, and that means his concentration's definitely somewhere else. This heat is going to swallow Bucky whole if Steve doesn't help him out, and that's something neither of them wants.
So, Steve thinks, he'd better damn well take what Bucky's offering while he can still offer it, because hesitating any more is just hurting them both, right?
"I promise," he says, with a sound that's half a laugh, half a groan, as he carefully gives his hips another roll - a bigger one, this time, trying to keep it controlled, but there's more movement this time, the underside of his cock sliding against Bucky's tongue and he forgets what he was going to say for a moment, before it becomes painfully clear to him when this heat shoots up his spine the more he's enveloped in Bucky's mouth and he finishes in a hoarse, breathless voice, "I won't last long."
And even though there's still that one part of him that does want this to last, he ignores it, shoves it down, and lets the part of him that's already addicted to the feel of Bucky's mouth around him take over. He shifts his weight a little, tries to spread it between his hands and his knees, keeping it off Bucky and keeping it controlled because he's not quite willing to thrust, given their situation, but oh, he'll roll his hips, over and over and over again. He keeps his head up, this time - his eyes are glued to Bucky's face, because as his motions get bigger, he needs to make sure Bucky's still okay. But damn if watching his cock slide in and out of Bucky's mouth like that isn't the most erotic thing Steve Rogers has ever witnessed.
He can feel the heat building, and fast - he wasn't kidding when he said he wouldn't last long; he's got experience, but not necessarily stamina, and he's not doing any of the things he normally does, thinking about whatever mundane thing that comes to mind other than what's going on like he sometimes has to in order to make sure he lasts. Now, his full concentration is on what's going on, how it feels, how it's just for him, and it's not long, a minute or two, before the rolls of his hips start to lose their rhythm, start to get a little less controlled, as his body feels like it's starting to practically burn up inside his clothes and he can feel that tidal wave of release inching up on him.
But it's just as he's starting to finally let his eyes close, bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead (and he's going to have pastel pigment in his hair well before the end of this) that he realizes -
What's he supposed to do, when he's going to come? Part of his mind stutters to a stop - he shouldn't just come in Bucky's mouth, that can't be right, but it's as he's realizing it that he's starting to feel the heat coil in his gut, ready to snap. He lets out a desperate sound, one hand fumbling for the base of his cock, trying to squeeze, trying to keep himself from coming until he knows what to do, how to do it, what Bucky wants. "Buck -" he gasps desperately, forcing his eyes open, trying to ask the question without actually asking it, because he's hovering on the edge of release here, he wants it so badly, but he's afraid to let go just like this. "Gonna - how -"
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This half-pained, half-aching with pleasure hiss comes out of him at the touch and his hand flinches back. It's too much. It's not enough. He needs to come here. His hand twitches towards Steve's hip so he can pull him out of his mouth, guide him to the couch - Bucky forces himself at the last minute to abort that motion. Instead, his fingers clench into the couch. Focus on Steve, idiot. Not until he comes. Not like the other times, where if he came, it was a happy accident or something Steve went and took care of after the fact. And from the way his length gave that twitch in his mouth, followed by this bitter taste of precum sliding onto his tongue that has Bucky eagerly tasting, Steve's really liking this.
Steve shifts above him. Bucky can practically feel the heat coming off him, nose flaring a little as he smells the arousal and faint sweat on him. Steve's finally rolling his hips. Bucky's eyes remain shut as his cock slides in and out from between his lips, losing himself in the sensation, the rhythm, the taste, Steve's desperation as his hips stumble. Bucky tries to help, bobbing his head along that length when he remembers, tongue laving at him-
He loses track of time. Steve's asking him something, but the words are starting to slur and fade into this dull roar in his head. Why is he talking? Bucky can practically taste how close he is to coming, he's dying for it. Bucky's not entirely thinking about it when he moves; his other hand drops from Steve so he can prop himself up on an elbow better, and he dives in like he's starving for it, for Steve. Bucky tries to take him all the way down in one go, throat muscles working around him as he swallows with this ragged, heavy groan.
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Okay, not that Bucky exactly seems to be suffering in the general sense of the word, here… but he's been hard a hell of a lot longer than Steve has and Steve sure as shit didn't miss the hiss that came out of Bucky's mouth - or why, he felt Bucky's hand sliding down to touch himself, and even though his hips are rolling against Bucky's mouth and the pleasure's coursing through him, hotter by the minute, he still manages to wince at that sound, just a little.
But eventually, it doesn't matter - eventually, his mind's wiped of almost anything other than coming, and Bucky's right, he's dying for it by now, it feels like he's on the edge of something a lot more intense than he's experienced in a while, and it's not tough to guess why. But there's that last little snag; he's waiting for an answer he's not sure he'll get, and his fingers tighten around himself as he tries to wait it out, tries to will Bucky to do something, anything, to show him how he's supposed to do this because he's got to do this, he really, really doesn't think he can hold it back for long -
And Bucky sure does something, all right. Both hand disappear, now - Steve's not sure what that means, but he finds out pretty quickly, and it's not what he expected. He doesn't know what he did expect, but it's not the way Bucky's lips and tongue and throat suddenly take him in, nearly to the root, and, his eyes go wide. "Oh, f-" is all he gets out; his body gives this hard shudder and his hand can't stay where it is; his fingers aren't on his cock anymore, they're clutching at Bucky's hair, and oh, God, that groan of Bucky's feels like it's vibrating its way up Steve's cock and settling right at the base of his spine.
The next shudder he gives is the last signal that he can't stop this; his hips flex and this time, his body really does curl around Bucky's. His fingers tighten against Bucky's scalp and his back arches, his forehead pressing into the couch as he tries to use the armrest as support with the other arm and a way to muffle the sound that comes out as the pent-up heat inside of him comes rushing out, hard and fast and he's not sure he's ever actually come this hard in his life, but then he's not sure of anything, a second later, because his mind goes completely and utterly blank.
He can't even really be worried if he's hurting Bucky, just for a few seconds; and it's a few more, still, before he starts to come back to himself, tucked up tightly against Bucky and panting harshly against the fabric of the couch, his heartbeat and his breathing thundering in his ears while his body feels wrung-out in that way things get, when you've just finished like that; it's heavy and a little stiff and yeah, the world can wait for just a second more, can't it?
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This sudden, intense thrill goes crackling like a bolt down his spine when Steve almost drops that swear on the breath of that heady moan threatening to bubble up; it feeds into Bucky's arousal, has his hips rolling under Steve as his friend's body shudders, as that hand grips his hair, fingers pulling tightly and sending this flare of pain through him that mixes with the building torture of the heat. Steve might as well have tossed gas onto a fire.
It happens fast. Bucky's trying to swallow him down, trying to fight down the gag reflex when Steve rolls his hips one more time, shoving himself in a little deeper, and then he's suddenly shaking like a leaf, body going tight. Bucky makes this torn whimper around his cock, muscles working him over as that heavy shaft gives this incredible throb on his tongue and starts to spill. It's thick, bitter and warm. His own hips roll and thrust uselessly upwards as he tastes pure sex on his tongue, in the air. He's barely aware that he's starting to gag a little, torn between pulling back or trying to swallow him down, stay there. Air. Steve. He's losing it. He needs, he needs..
Bucky's hands sink into the couch, fingers sinking in with a death grip. Not yet. He doesn't dare move his hands to push Steve back, not when he knows that the moment he lets go, he gonna pull Steve down, tearing the buttons off if he can't get his clothes off fast enough.
Steve's just starting to come down, breathing rough and uneven, to the sound of Bucky coughing quietly, choking a little around his erection between the desperate groans. Behind Steve, Bucky's stomach is stained with the precum drooling from his cock, flushed red and straining as his hip jerkily thrust upwards from against the couch.
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Right up until Bucky coughs and squirms and his hips give this little thrust, and all of that crashes right in over Steve and he realizes a couple of things at once. First, that he's probably choking Bucky - he sucks in a breath, the hand in Bucky's hair immediately disappears, goes to the couch as he tries to lift himself off of Bucky, out of his mouth as quickly and carefully as he can. His cock's still throbbing, feeling even more sensitive, and that gasp turns into a half-aborted groan as he slides out of the heat of Bucky's mouth, feeling every inch of it on the way. But the second thing he notices is that Bucky looks this really, really desperate; a quick glance back at his hips tells Steve exactly why.
He winces - honestly, Bucky looks like he's practically passed aroused and flown right on into painful.
"Oh - oh, sorry," he manages to get out, and then his weight's on Bucky's chest as he sinks down, and he's trying to frantically work the buttons of his shirt; he doesn't even have time to think about the way his cock's covered in Bucky's saliva, how it was just sitting right there between Bucky's cherry-red lips seconds ago, and how it's still throbbing and sensitive and hard, because his body hasn't had time to come down from that high. He's still tingling all over, like there's this live wire skimming over his skin. Maybe it's for the best - Steve's actually a little worried that taking the time to get the Vaseline is going to feel like an eternity on top of the one Bucky just endured. Should he even still do it?
A part of him wonders, absently, if they need it. (Hell yes, another part answers, but there's these streaks of precum already on Bucky's stomach, the first part argues, he could get Bucky slick with that - hell, he already is.) Either way, he puts off the decision a moment more, trying a little awkwardly to struggle out of his clothes and apologize and figure out how Bucky's going to want him all at once. "Sorry - God, Bucky, take care of me second next time," he's babbling (even though he'll thank Bucky, well and truly, later, because his hands are still shaking and his whole body feels limp as a noodle, although that's not helping him get out of his clothes any faster, his fingers don't want to cooperate and he's getting pastels everywhere). "Where - how - what do you need?" he asks; he's almost not expecting a verbal answer, and he's already trying to mentally brace himself for whatever Bucky's going to do. It won't be bad - Bucky won't hurt him - but the desperate look in Bucky's eyes is a bit of a warning, in and of itself.
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Pale eyes blown out with desire track down Steve's face, noting the way that flush sits on him, the pastels in streaks on his sweaty skin, those lips that- Bucky surges up while Steve's moving, chasing after those lips and covers them in a sloppy kiss, tongue pushing hot and roughly past his lips as Steve works at his shirt as if he's never going to get enough of him. There's this sense of finally, finally singing through him, this piss poor relief in the face of how much he's dying for it, how much it's actually starting to hurt the longer they put it off.
Bucky starts to lift a hand, because Steve's taking too long. Only he's going to tear his shirt off, shove him down, fuck into him without preparation, and that's... that's not what he's willing to do to Steve, no matter how bad this heat is. He'd rather lock himself in the bathroom, let this eat him up. His hand's still inching towards his shirt, so Bucky aims for something else, wraps his hand around Steve's softening cock that's slick with his saliva and too sensitive, and gives it this pump to keep his hand occupied. There's no thought if it's too much for Steve right now. All he knows is he can't reach for him yet, and this is the only way to distract himself.
"I need to fuck you. Please," Bucky's voice comes off quiet but strangled against Steve's lips, like it's taking everything just to say that much and why the hell is Steve asking questions? His hips buck upwards, almost unseating Steve as his cock brushes up and against his ass that earns this embarrassingly needy, frustrated whimper.
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The problem is, his shirt is taking too long - his hands feel barely coordinated, and even though Steve wants it off, badly, it also doesn't need to come off, to make this happen. So he switches tracks, starts trying to struggle out of his pants instead - or at least get them down around his hips, give Bucky some room to work. Except Bucky starts to "work" in a completely different way - without warning, one hand reaches down and takes hold of Steve's length, giving it this firm, slick pump down and up. He lets out a strangled groan, hips jerking at the slide of Bucky's skin and yeah, he's really, really sensitive, and no one's ever touched him after he finished; it's too much and not enough all at the same time. He vaguely wonders if his body can even cool down, after something like that. He still feels so hot.
Not to mention, that's about when Bucky says that, and yeah, a larger part of Steve's getting lost in what's going on, in how he feels right now. Maybe he can't feel heats, but he's still human; he feels good, still a little high, and the words need and please aren't lost on him. Bucky's the only one who's ever said please to him.
Not that he'd need to. Steve's already in this, already committed to helping him; Bucky's his best friend, how could he leave him to deal with this alone after all that? Even if he'd gotten nothing out of the deal, he would have helped. Despite everything, his lips curl into a little smile, eyes fluttering as he finally hooks his fingers in his pants and starts to pull down. That's when Bucky's cock - it's this hot, heavy hardness - slides up against him, through the fabric, and Steve practically topples off Bucky's lap with the motion of his hips.
He's not getting the Vaseline. They're doing this now, he decides, and he nods a little, letting out a panting breath that mingles with Bucky's. "I know, I know, buddy. I gotta move," he tries to say against Bucky's lips - that's another thing, Bucky's never kissed him before today, and it's not like he's never been kissed - he has - but he's never been kissed like this.
He rocks forward - plants a kiss on Bucky's bitter lips, trying to say he's sorry - and all but falls off the couch, half-falling and half-sitting on the floor, squirming his pants and briefs the rest of the way off. It feels like a slap in the face, one that feels both good and bad, losing Bucky's grip on his cock, oversensitive as it is. The clothes below his waist are the only ones he pulls off - the shirt and undershirt can just stay on, even though he feels like he's going to burn up - and he turns, climbing back onto Bucky's hips, facing away from him and deciding he doesn't have the time or space or luxury to feel embarrassed about what he's going to do. He swipes his hand through the precum streaking Bucky's stomach (leaving little pastel streaks in the process) and takes hold of Bucky's cock, gives it a few good, thorough pumps, trying to spread the clear fluid over it, slick him up. It seems to work - at least, his hand's moving pretty easily as the stuff spreads over Bucky's flushed cock, and, "This'll be fine," Steve tries to explain, but he figures actions speak louder than words. He scoots down Bucky's body some, feeling Bucky's cock slide against his belly, against his own length, and tries to brace himself against the opposite armrest, sitting on his knees, leaning over, and glancing back, as if to say, Go. He's not sure this is going to feel all that great - for him. But it's exactly what Bucky needs, and Steve wants him to take it.
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Only well, he doesn't expect Steve to practically fall off his lap. It's actually enough to stun the heat from him for at least two seconds, and erection that's killing him here for maybe a grand total of a half second; Bucky sits up, leans over the couch a little to see if Steve's okay, eyes comically wide. Steve's doing this weird-flailing squirm to get out of his pants where he's landed. It doesn't make it easier when he lurches up at the same time for Bucky's mouth that's parted in this 'o' of surprise.His lips open for him, for that first kiss that Steve's planted on him, only it's more to croak out if Steve's okay, except that dies on his lips as he presses hard into the kiss, teeth grazing the soft skin of his lip and tongue sliding against him, tasting him. Steve's lips are nice and red and tingling when they part.
Bucky's hands start this lift upwards like they got a mind of their own when they grab Steve, only they hover uselessly when Steve turns around, facing his cock as he's half crouched. Bucky's not really thinking as he eyes the nice, maybe a little bony swell of Steve's ass, and now he does allow himself to touch, palm rubbing a little possessively over him.
Fingers swipe through the clear mess on his stomach, his cock does this horrific throb that's a prickly surge of pleasure-pain. Bucky presses his face against Steve, teeth worrying the skin of his ass before he breathes hard and unevenly as Steve wraps a clever hand around him and strokes him. It's not gonna be enough, he needs more than that-
Steve gets up, turns around, braces himself on the arm rest and looks over his shoulder this Look that's an invitation. Bucky chokes a little and he's on his knees embarrassingly fast, hand still still palming that curve of his ass like it's been glued there. His hips nestled forward, and Christ, he's eager for it, so eager, his cock sliding nice and hot and heavy up against his hole. He doesn't push in just yet, not when his eyes flick down. Steve's shirt's hiked up some - Bucky shoves it up as far as it will go along his back, and sure enough, he's spotted another patch of skin that doesn't have any pastels on it. He leans down, nips at that amazing dip in his spine, then draws his tongue up along the curve of his spine, tasting him.
His other hand fumbles, circles himself, and begins to guide himself in. The head of his cock touches him, then with a twist of his hips, he begins to carefully push himself into his friend, legs trembling with the effort and restraint it's taking not to just ram in as he nips at a shoulder blade, soothes that over with a hot stripe of saliva.
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But he's got to get to work, now - Bucky did him a favor, and now it's more than time to return it. He jerks just a little, at that first touch to his ass - not that he wasn't expecting it, but it's a little more exciting, somehow, than he expected. The teeth that graze his skin a second later sure as hell get his blood boiling a little more than he'd anticipated. Maybe it's that he's just come, that makes everything feel a hundred times more intense; his cock's still throbbing, even, as it's pressed between his stomach and his thighs when he crouches.
He fully expects Bucky to just go at it - that's what he's inviting, and that's just fine. It seems all the more likely when Bucky's at his back in a flash, hips flush with his and Steve can feel the hot, solid length nestled against him. He unconsciously arches his back a little, more, spreads his legs a little, offers himself up. So Bucky surprises him for what has to be the fifth or sixth time that day, when he takes the time to hike Steve's shirt all the way up to his armpits, and then there's teeth and a hot, wet mouth at the base of his spine, and it's working its way up, and Steve squirms back against Bucky's hips, letting out a sound that surprises himself - and feels like it goes straight to his spent cock.
This is all supposed to be for Bucky… but Steve suddenly feels like he's getting a hell of a lot more out of it than usual, and whatever the reason, he's sure not complaining.
But then he feels Bucky shift; the head of his cock presses against him, and Steve takes a breath, tries to get his body to relax, or it's not going to work. He's hoping that orgasm really did loosen him up, that Bucky's slick enough to slide in, or he's about to be miserable and Bucky might not care. His arms and legs flex a little, but his posture stays open, he tries to breathe through that first push, as Bucky's cock breaches him and… it burns a little more than he remembers, yeah, because precum's great but it's not quite enough to make things as smooth as they could be. But it's not the fast, hard thrust he was bracing for, either. Bucky's going slow, and it's helping, it's giving Steve time to relax (or try). When Bucky's mouth suddenly appears at his shoulder, nose nudging against the hem of Steve's shirt bunched up as high as it will go, Steve's head drops - he arches his back, drawing in a shuddering breath, trying to get more of that sensation, to focus on it as a way, strangely enough, to let the rest of him relax and take Bucky in. "S'fine," he promises, mumbling into the armrest, not sure if he's even talking to Bucky, if Bucky can hear him, or if Bucky can understand. He can't be completely gone - he'd be fucking Steve into the couch like a ragdoll if he was, he's sure - but he's probably not in the mood for conversation, either.
That's fine. Steve just puts his concentration into a few simple things: breathing, Bucky's mouth on his shoulder, and the way Bucky's cock is filling him up, inch by inch. God, he forgot how big Bucky feels, but he can do this, they can do this, he knows. His legs spread as much as his limited flexibility will allow, and he absently wonders if he could work his shirt off like this, but gives up on the idea as soon as it forms. He'd rather not try to move and send them both tumbling off the couch by accident. He'll let Bucky do all the moving, here.
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Bucky shifts. A hand releases his cock, wraps itself around Steve's hips as his thighs shift to brace himself better, and he leans over Steve's back, his other arm going over Steve's to brace himself on the armrest with him. Steve's saying something, mumbling into the fabric; part of Bucky wants to just thrust in all the way, but the part of him that's desperately trying to cling to the last shreds of control freezes and looks for anything that sounds like 'stop'. He doesn't think Steve said that.
As he pushes in closer, Bucky lifts up from Steve's back, eyes half-hooded as he leans in, nose touching at that little hollow behind his other ear, nuzzling him again before he traces the shell of his ear with his tongue, hips quivering.
He takes it slow most of the way. It's the last inch that he can't help himself; his hips stutter, than pulse forward, plunging him in all the way, hips flush against Steve's with something that sounds like a low growl. A jumble of several broken swears come torn out of his throat as he practically falls-plasters himself against Steve's back, hips giving these little flexes and rolls against him as he waits to see if Steve's okay.
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Bucky freezes for a split second - Steve's not sure why, but he doesn't need Bucky to stop. "Keep going," he breathes, arching more, trying to encourage him, because that groan Bucky let out a minute ago sounded equal parts agonized and relieved, and Steve wants to give him that relief.
He wants to give Bucky anything he asks for, a second later, when lips and nose and tongue touch behind his other ear, mirroring that little nuzzle from before, only now that Steve knows what's going on, it makes perfect sense. It makes him tilt his head a little, and he manages to lose himself in the gentleness of that touch, the way it contrasts to Bucky's cock inside of him, when Bucky's hips give that last shove and Bucky's suddenly pressed hot and heavy against him, and Steve lets out this harsh gasp that's maybe a little surprise as he locks his elbows to make sure they both stay up.
He's barely got time to process Bucky draped over his back when Bucky's hips start to move - they're not giving him a break, any real time to adjust, but actually, that might be a good thing. If Bucky just sat still inside him, then started to move from a dead stop, Steve thinks it might be harder. Every little roll, rock, and flex of Bucky's hips reminds him to relax a little more, feels like it's stretching him open in a way that he hasn't been in some time. In reality, Bucky's hips might barely be moving, but to Steve, every shift of Bucky's cock inside of him feels amplified a hundredfold. His head sways a little, his body flexes - then he remembers to relax again, and he shifts under Bucky, taking a breath, letting it go, and tries to give this nod, although the motion might be lost amidst everything else. "Okay," he breathes, "I'm okay," he promises - or he will be, the longer he has to adjust, but to Steve, that means moving more. And because Bucky's not big on words, at the moment, Steve abandons them and gives this roll of his own hips, pressing back harder against Bucky, then sliding forward, feeling half an inch, an inch of Bucky pulling out of him, then pressing back again to complete the circle. "See? Okay." Or getting there, he tells himself; the motions still burn, but Bucky's moving a little easier, smoother inside of him. And the only way they're going to get more lubrication is by getting Bucky worked up more, and then Steve's thinking it'll get better for them both.
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Steve's okay, he's got the go-ahead- Steve draws off him, drags this hard grunt as he feels that tightness and heat sliding off his dick, right before he presses back, hips circling around the cock buried in him. He's closing in on him from all sides, tight, so goddamn tight that he's already losing what's left of his mind with this molten, liquid lust that's pouring through his veins. Bucky buries his face for a moment in Steve's shoulder, mouthing at the firm collar bone, then begins to move.
At first it's just this slow, sawing motion, in and out, in and out, all the way out till the tip of him teases at Steve, then back in with one slide that gets easier each time he does it.
It doesn't last all that long. The last of his patience is out the window. Bucky nips, a little too hard, at his throat then pulls back a little from Steve so he can get a better angle, draws out one more time....then plunges in with a hard slap. It's like a dam going and like Bucky fed an addiction in one movement. With this filthy, desperate groan, Bucky's hips begin to slap against Steve's, pistoning his cock over and over into that delicious heat, neck arched upwards a little and eyes closed, mouth slack as he starts to lose himself into the constricting warmth of the body below him. A trail of sweat rolls down his chest unnoticed, sliding down towards the cock plunging over and over into Steve.
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"Yeah," Steve tells him, and then Bucky starts to move. The first pull feels good - a little bit of relief, even, as Bucky pulls out, but Steve knows it's not going to last. It doesn't - Bucky slides back in and Steve's mouth falls open; there's that burn, again, but at least the motion is steady, it's not ragged or animal or harsh. Bucky repeats the motion again - and again, a few more times, and the first few times, it was a bit of a challenge to stay quiet, to stay still, but by the fourth or fifth go, Steve's actually relaxing back into it. Bucky's moving easier inside of him, steady and firm, and he never quite has the time to get used to being either empty or full before things are changing again.
Then Bucky nips at his neck - it's hard enough that Steve feels a little stab of pain, almost wonders if it's going to bruise, but he doesn't actually care - and without warning, gives the first hard push, the one that Steve's got to admit, he was expecting from the start. It's still a little shock, and his body gives with the motion as he lets out a quiet gasp, rocking forward until he manages to brace himself again - but it's a lot less unpleasant than Steve was expecting.
He's distracted then as Bucky lets out this really, really filthy groan, one that seems to coat Steve's skin and slide all the way down to his cock, pressed up against the armrest and if it's possible to wash this couch, that's exactly what they're going to have to do, he's thinking, and that's when Bucky's hips start moving again. Faster, harder - now he's going at it like he really means it, and Steve's just along for the ride. He's pressed up against the armrest of the couch before he realizes it; he tries to shift and brace himself again, tries to keep his ass in the air, legs trembling a little as Bucky's arm around his hips holds him tight and uses him for the leverage Bucky needs to really fuck into him.
Steve's letting out these little gasps, sometimes little sounds with every slap of Bucky's hips - he's still feeling sensitive, cock pressed to the cushions, and he's trying to get used to the rhythm Bucky's pushing on them, trying to stay loose, relaxed, give Bucky an easier time of it. As a consequence, he's moving and wiggling a lot while Bucky just thrusts, and it's on one of those thrusts, while Steve's working to raise hips that have fallen a little, that his world goes white for a fraction of a heartbeat. For a second, it feels like his body is going to burn up from the inside out, he can feel the blood suddenly rushing back into his cock, and his fingers tighten in the armrest until his knuckles go white.
Then Bucky's cock has moved, taking with it that sensation, and Steve gasps for air, blinking away the stars in his vision, feeling dazed and on the next few thrusts, Bucky's going to find him utterly and completely pliant as he stops bracing himself and just tries to get his bearings back after… that.
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