bakerstreet | In Heat/Rut

In Heat/Rut

THE IN HEAT/IN RUT AU MEME
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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not going as easily as if they'd had the Vaseline, but it's too late to change it now. He's barely thinking of much else besides the taste of Steve's shoulder, tongue tracing the sharp angles and the little shadows, and that hot tightness of his ass that's slowly, maybe a little reluctantly, parting to let Bucky in. This almost agonized groan rumbles against Steve's lower back as he manages another inch, opening him up; he's so tight and his cock's almost as sensitive as if he'd already come, and even though it kinda hurts, he needs this far more.

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.

There's something in Steve that can't deny how he likes being pressed together like this - it's funny, crazy, really, but he feels like he just fits against the curve of Bucky's chest, his stomach, and hips. Bucky's body slides closer over his, one arm pressing close to Steve's on the armrest, and Steve catches himself sliding back, trying to meet Bucky's hips, even through that burn, through the way it feels like he's being split apart, to find the heat and solidity of Bucky's skin and press against it.

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.

"Y-yeah?" Bucky's voice comes almost wheezed out, fractured against the shell of Steve's ear like he's just barely getting it out. His hand tightens on the couch and Steve's hips, like he's preparing himself, bracing himself to go.

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.

Steve's pretty sure he can feel Bucky's body tensing, like a horse at the gate just before the gun goes off, and something in him knows that even if he wasn't ready for Bucky to start moving, he'd lie and say he was. The coiled tension is almost palpable - and so is the desperation, hope, and relief that colors the single word that makes it past Bucky's lips - and even that sounds like it was a struggle to form.

"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.

His face tilted upwards, Bucky's gasping for breath with each plunge into Steve, each drag and squeeze on his cock. His heart's beating a marathon in his chest, heat curling down throughout his limbs. What's perfect is the way Steve braces himself, those tiny gasps and groans Steve's making with each perfect push into that ass. Bucky drinks them in, hip snapping flush against his for a moment and circling his cock into him before he resumes his earlier pace.

It's even better this time. Because Steve's wriggling all over his cock against the couch.

He feels it immediately when he hits that something inside Steve, the same something that Steve had plunged against a few times when he'd pushed Bucky's legs back, and thrust into him on other heats. He knows what it feels like, to feel this burst of stars or sparklers all over, to have the world white out and to feel like you're going to come over and over. Steve's muscles ripple around him, then he's dropping this pitched gasp for air that Bucky has to lean over and pressing his mouth to the side of his, tries to capture. Under him, Steve's suddenly more relaxed, still stunned with that sudden blaze of intense desire.

It's instinct at this point. Bucky changes his aim, until he scrapes against that spot again, wrings a moan out of Steve, and keeping that angle, begins to piston his throbbing cock against it in a loud smack of skin against skin as he hunches over Steve. His fingers dig into his hips, dig into the couch. Heady groans drop hot and moist against Steve's cheek as he begins to work himself desperately to climax.

It takes Steve a minute to figure out where he is, who he is, and what's going on after that. He's never felt anything quite like that before - it's almost like an orgasm, but it's not - but it's sure close to that, and it's left him trembling and gasping and… and yeah, aroused. His cock had finally been starting to soften - Bucky hadn't given it the chance, before, when he'd reached out and started touching before this began - but now, Steve swears he can feel himself getting hard all over again, and it's got him feeling exhausted and energized all at once.

He also feels, suddenly, Bucky shifting - he leans over, and his lips press against the side of Steve's mouth as he gasps for air. Steve's acting a little on instinct here, too - what instinct he has - and he tilts his head before he knows what he's doing, still trying to catch his breath, but trying to match his lips a little more closely to Bucky's, all the same. It's more a brushing of lips than a press, because Steve's got to breathe, but it's still pretty nice, and he's not planning on tilting his head back anytime soon.

In fact… he's not planning on doing anything anytime soon, because Bucky's fingers dig into his skin hard enough to bruise and his hips start shifting with every thrust, until -

God. There's this moan ringing in his ears, but it takes a second to realize it's his. Bucky's found that spot again, and he's giving it his undivided attention. Just before his mind starts to completely blank, Steve remembers what's going on - remembers how sometimes, when they do this the other way around and things are just right, Bucky will start jerking and moaning when Steve seem to thrust into him a certain way. That's what's going on here - holy hell, he didn't know it felt like this, couldn't even guess - but that's all he has time to realize before the assault on that one singular spot washes everything out in this haze of static. After a few more thrusts, a few more fireworks shows obscuring his vision, Steve's not sure if it's possible to die from pleasure, but if it is… he'd be okay with it.

He is sure, though, that somehow, he really is hard again. He's never bounced back that quickly, but he's never not been given the chance to cool down between rounds. He's fully hard, and twice as sensitive, and his cock's brushing up against the armrest every time Bucky pounds back into him, and it's not enough. Steve doesn't even realize what he's doing, as one hand slides down his body, wraps around himself, and starts to move in sync with Bucky's thrusts. All he knows is, his eyes are rolling back and Bucky's making these amazing sounds against his cheek and he's going to burn up from the inside out and he wants it, so badly, that nothing else matters.

He's sliding in more easily now; it helps when he's so far aroused that his shaft's all but drooling out precum, on top of Steve going so pliant after that first brush against that spot that's always had Bucky arching under Steve before.

Every moan and whimper he fucks out of Steve below him is like music to his ears in this heat, and if he wasn't already impossibly hard, aching to come, he would have filled out fast, just from that alone. There's no way he's going to lose that angle, not for a second. Bucky's mouth presses insistently, awkwardly and messily against Steve's, these brushes of lips between gasps and grunts into his mouth as the sharp thrill goes through him like sparklers. He wants more of that, he wants it for himself, and he'll never get enough of those sounds Steve's making.

His hand slips on Steve's hips, smearing the pastel into more transparent streaks on their flesh: it's hard getting a good grip when his hand is sweaty, Steve's sweaty and Bucky's too far gone to think about stopping. He lets go of Steve, and instead, Bucky puts his hand over his other shoulder to brace himself on the couch, hemming him in. And yeah, that's better, so much better, he can brace himself better, really give Steve all he's got. And Bucky does; he's all but jackhammering into that tight, enveloping heat, making sure that each time he plunges back in, he's pounding against that spot. All the while he's rambling against Steve's mouth, mumbling encouragements, he's got him, come on, come on-

The pleasure's gathering up, it's too much, pressing in so tight it's almost suffocating, he's gonna...he's gonna...

It comes cresting over, this explosion, this relief as his hips slam into Steve's and press in as tight as he can get. With this raw, relieved moan dragged out of him, Bucky starts to come. His hips spasm forward, once, twice, as he starts to spill inside the other man.

Edited 2014-09-10 09:01 (UTC)

Steve can feel the way Bucky's moving easier than ever - he knows why, too, and the idea kind of makes his eyes flutter, this little moan push past his lips. Then again, there are so many things to moan about, he can't decide which is making him do it, or if it's everything combined. Bucky's mouth, hot and wet and pressed sloppily against the side of Steve's, like he can't stand the idea of not kissing him so he doesn't care if it's awkward and incomplete. Bucky's cock, hard and hot inside of him, hitting that spot inside of Steve that sends him reeling, with no time in between to get his bearings or his breath back before it's happening again. Bucky's body, suddenly leaning down and covering his, the hard slap of his hips, the soft words he's saying in this raw, breathless voice against the corner of Steve's mouth.

It's all way to much - Steve has never felt this good, and he can't stop feeling good, physically can't stop, because Bucky's pounding against that amazing, wonderful spot mercilessly while Steve's fingers tighten and pump around his cock, which feels raw and sensitive but he doesn't care, he can feel it building again, he's got to come, he can't stop now. Not when Bucky says he's got him, when Bucky says to come on, because it's this mantra Steve's repeating in his own head, eyes screwed shut so tightly his whole face feels tight. He feels like he's coming, over and over, but he's not, he hasn't yet, and he needs to.

Steve's back is starting to arch, he's trying to stretch out and thrust a little better into his own hand without losing a single fraction of an inch of contact with Bucky's body when Bucky's hips suddenly come slamming into him from behind. Steve makes this sound - a half-gasp, half-groan, his whole body flexing as he realizes what's coming, what's going to happen next. Bucky's moan is amazing, this sound like he's been waiting for this moment for hours, just as Steve feels this throb inside of him and Bucky starts coming. It makes him groan again; his whole body feels sensitive, from the inside out, but he's still wound up tighter than a spring, he's so close but he's not quite there -

Steve rocks his body back, trying to get Bucky's cock to hit that spot one more time, while he's still hard, while he's coming and pressed up against and around Steve like this blanket he just wants to stay under for the rest of the day. He wiggles, squirming against Bucky's hips, fingers slipping a little on his own slick cock, and -

There. Bucky's cock twitches inside of him, he feels another spurt of warmth, and then that length brushes against the right place and Steve's body jerks - his cock gives this halfhearted jerk along with the rest of him, and then it takes over completely. The orgasm isn't quite as strong as his first one, but oh, it feels good, and Bucky's still pressing against that spot inside of him, and Steve's whole body feels like it's shaking apart but he doesn't care, he doesn't care about any of it, he thinks, as his own cock starts to spill over his fingers, and yeah, onto the cushion beneath him.

Edited 2014-09-11 06:38 (UTC)

That incredible wrecked sound Steve makes, likes he's never, ever felt this good in his entire life and he's damned if he knows how to handle it, coupled with the way he's all but writhing all over his cock's like this last surge of molten pleasure through him, because with this weak groan, Bucky's hips grind hard one last time into him, cock shuddering in him as another splash of come's milked out of him. His hands dig into the armrest, chest heaving against Steve as his nerves tingle like they've got sparks still heading down them, and he thinks maybe it's over, it's finally over, thank God.

Only Steve's coming - again, Bucky's going to be crowing about this for at least the next two days once his brain returns- and trembling all over the hot length buried in him that if he had anything left to push into him, he would. He's spent, Steve's not dragging out another wave out of him, but Bucky's hips give this tiny, spasm into him, as if to try anyway. He wishes he could've seen him. seen his face. Bucky would bet anything he'd looked gorgeous right then as he came undone.

"Christ, Steve," Bucky manages to gasp weakly against his lips. Chest pressed against Steve's back, his heart's pounding away, even as Bucky's hands loosening from their death grip on the sofa's arm wrest, and skim down his ribs, down to his flanks and back up. He leans his forehead between his shoulder blades, panting against the sweat sheened skin tinged with pastels.

One of those hands reaches up, strokes this nice path up Steve's throat, before he tilts his head, capturing Steve's lips in a slow, deep kiss. He's never done this before. Before, he'd just pulled out once he was done (certainly hadn't lingered to kiss Steve), awkwardly ask Steve, check if he was okay, even more awkwardly thank him, and then beat a retreat to his room after a cold shower. But this is nice; Steve fits under him like a glove, molds to his body like he was always made to, and he just...he just hopes this was good for Steve, really good.

"You alright?"

Bucky can crow all he wants - Steve really doesn't care about anything at the moment, other than the strange, heady relief of coming so soon after he'd already come, and the not-so-little electric shocks still coursing through his body like lighting. When Bucky's hips spasm like that, they give one last press right in the right place; he groans, sinks back against Bucky, his knees aching a little, limbs still trembling, as his cock spends itself between his stomach and the couch. He'll probably feel bad about that, in a minute, but right now, he can't feel anything other than utterly spent and euphoric. He swears, he can see the stars.

He thinks he hears his name, but he's too tired to respond, just yet. Bucky's hands feel good, sliding down his body, igniting a few last sparks and making him shiver before he slumps, enjoying the press of Bucky's forehead, the puffs of his warm breath against his back.

He starts, just a tiny bit, when fingers touch his throat - but the touch is gentle, prodding in a careful way, and then Bucky's turning his head so he can kiss Steve like he means it, soft and slow and deep. Steve shivers again - he never expected that, but it's this amazing contrast to everything in Bucky a minute ago, and the perfect complement to the slow, easy way his body's starting to feel heavy and warm. When he kisses back, it's a little slow and sloppy, but it's sincere, the way Steve's kisses always are.

His eyes are a little blown, still, not quite focusing when he realizes Bucky's asked him a question. "Hmmnh? Oh - yeah," he says, his tongue feeling thick - his whole body feeling slow. "Yeah, m'okay." He grins, tiredly, thinking he'd like to just pull Bucky over him and sleep away the afternoon - only there's this cooling patch of come coating his stomach, some of the cushion, a bit of his legs, and he doesn't want to lie down in that. Instead, he just leans back against Bucky, as though trying to savor a few more seconds of warmth, because he assumes Bucky's not going to stick around against his back for long. He's already stayed put longer - kissed him - and that's never happened before. "How about you? Better?"

He tentatively reaches back, touches the side of Bucky's thigh with trembling fingers, rubs the skin a little. This is nice, he thinks. It sure as hell beats Bucky up and leaving for the shower, and Steve beating off the rest of the way - or not even bothering - in the silence left behind.

Edited 2014-09-11 07:50 (UTC)

Sure,t he kiss is sloppy, but it's so honest and sincere, it's so damn Steve Rogers, that Bucky's thinking he might never get enough of them. What he's not sure of is if Steve's going to want to do that more after this. It's sinking in more that what happened this time wasn't really how heats went with them. It wasn't just a problem to fix and move on, pretend it didn't happen, pretend you aren't going red with embarrassment until it blows over.

Sudden relief rushes through him when Steve assures him he's okay, and Mother of Mary, he looks almost beautiful with his hair damp against his head and eyes dark against that flush on his face. His thumb absently strokes over his jaw once....then twice and more times after that, since it's just not enough one time, in this lazy, comforting caress. A little sigh whispers out when Steve's hand strokes a thigh tensed with the effort not to go slumping against Steve and sending them both into the couch.

He doesn't feel like he's burning from the inside out anymore. And he feels good, really good, maybe the best he ever has coming from a heat. Bucky's mouth curves into a sheepish smile, the one that's still silly with bliss and relief, "Better, yeah. Thanks." He noses against Steve's hair, against his cheek bone, as that same old surge of protectiveness unwinds in him.

But there's also this heavy guilt sitting inside too. "I'm sorry about-" sorry about putting you through all that again is what he wants to say. And it's sitting under the surface, but he hastily changes it to; "-your homework."

He also feels beat. Bucky would like more than anything to lie down there, but now that his brain's not residing solely in his cock, he's thinking Steve might have tagged the couch when he came. Bucky carefully pulls back, lips pressed into a thin line as he takes more time than he ever would have before; he doesn't want to make it uncomfortable for Steve here, even though it's making Bucky feel every tight, hot drag of muscle around his softening cock that sends these too-sharp aches of pleasure through his over-sensitive dick. He slides out at last. Bucky leans back on the couch, one leg hanging off, and eases Steve up, so he can lay across his chest if he wants.

Edited 2014-09-11 21:16 (UTC)

No, it's not quite like the other heats Bucky's been through. Those have been, Steve's got to admit, a lot more cut and dry. A lot rougher, sometimes, although that mostly depends on how bad the heat gets. Bucky's never kissed him before, no. But he's always treated Steve carefully, like something in him knows that he shouldn't be too rough with him. A couple of bruises once or twice, sure. But Bucky in a really bad heat could do some damage. He never has. It's why Steve trusts him so absolutely.

But this heat is different. Bucky's kissed him, and a minute later, he's touching Steve's jaw, nuzzling his hair, his cheek, and Steve's not entirely sure that the warmth spreading through him is due solely to his two orgasms.

Holy cow. Two orgasms - that must be why he's feeling so utterly boneless and spent, why he doesn't care in the least when Bucky apologizes about the homework. He's even too tired to really read between the lines on that one; he shakes his head, forehead brushing against Bucky's nose, and says, "Don't apologize. It's fine."

He sucks in a little breath as Bucky starts to pull out - it seems like the moment must be over, like Bucky's just going to slide back and go. But even that's different - Bucky's going slow, inch by inch, and it feels a lot better on Steve than it does when Bucky just rocks back, out, and is gone. He shivers a little, his shirt starting to slide down his back again as Bucky peels off it; Steve's starting to glance back, expecting Bucky to get up and go, but then he sees Bucky's draped himself backwards over the couch, and his posture's open, practically inviting.

It doesn't take Steve long to decide. He doesn't want to drag himself to the shower, and he doesn't want to drag himself to bed. What he does do is try not to fall onto Bucky's chest; he slumps, instead, head ending up somewhere just over Bucky's heart, his shirt still rucked up a little so he can feel the heat of Bucky's stomach on the small of his back. There's this steady - though slowing - heartbeat right under his cheek, and Steve can't keep the smile that's tugging his lips upward from doing anything but.

He doesn't know if this change is permanent, but he does know… he'd be okay if it was. But he'll be okay if it's not, if Bucky never kisses him again during a heat, if he never gets that steady attention. Or, at least, he tells himself he'll be okay. He's kind of hoping, quietly… that maybe they could do that again. It was the best damn experience he's ever had with sex, hands down.

And it's definitely left him exhausted. "You mind if I stick around a minute," he mumbles, although with the way his body is relaxing against Bucky's, one hand sliding down to rest between Bucky's hip and the back of the couch, the other hanging over Bucky's side into the air, it might be clear that he's on the verge of falling asleep, and he might be here for more than a minute.

Steve's weight settles nice and easily against him, more of this slump than a controlled movement, leaving Steve's head resting against Bucky's sweat-stick chest and a small smile threatening to come out. It feels almost perfect here, just lying there with Steve sprawled over him and the last of their orgasms tingling through their limbs.

It's pretty clear that Steve's exhausted, almost limp as a noodle after coming twice so close to each other; Bucky's having a hard time keeping that silly, stupidly proud grin from his face as he nods. "Don't mind, free country, free couch."

He doesn't exactly want to get up either, even though he's dying for a shower at least before he knocks out. That's probably the best he's come in a long time, and he's feeling the tiniest bit better about it, about their unspoken arrangement. This time he was finally able to do something for Steve instead of just taking or using when he went into heats, and this time, he can practically feel contentment oozing off Steve, much in the same way Steve's two seconds from oozing off the couch.

After a second hesitation (this is dangerously close to cuddling; he's not sure he does cuddling, doesn't think Steve does cuddling), before Bucky wraps an arm around him to help steady Steve, fingers settled against his warm skin, absently rubbing the traces of pastels into little circles.

"You're okay?" he murmurs.

"Free roommate," Steve mumbles, like it's a joke (whether it makes sense or not, but his head's pretty fuzzy right now) - although he glances up at Bucky from where he is and catches sight of that grin. He snorts, elbowing Bucky (gently, it's not meant to actually hurt, just a nudge, really). "What've you got to look so smug about?"

It doesn't matter much, a minute later; Bucky's arm slides around him, and whether it's just to keep him on the couch or something more, Steve doesn't care. There's something about it he likes - likes a lot. He relaxes into the grip, and now he's really, really not going anywhere for a minute or sixty. His eyes slide closed, and they don't bother opening at the question. "I'm fine," Steve says, as firmly as he can. "I'm about six ways better than fine, blockhead."

And he is; he's exhausted out of his mind, boneless, but he feels so good, warm from the inside out, and there's this little throbbing sensation from where Bucky nipped his neck earlier, and the same from his ass, but they both feel good, rather than bad. It's the good kind of tired out that's creeping over him - he knows the difference, maybe better than anybody. "Just tired. Need a nap." He's not asking permission, here, either - just giving warning, because he can feel himself sliding toward sleep already. He - they - probably look pretty ridiculous, he realizes dimly. He doesn't care, either. Good thing it's just the two of them.

He'd ask if Bucky thinks this is it, or if he's still in heat - but he doesn't have the energy. He figures, if it's the latter... he'd better get some rest now. While he can.

"Nice to know I'm good for something, even if it's a pillow," Bucky's chest rumbles with the small laugh under Steve's cheek. Bucky tilts his head down, mock-huffs like Steve's knocked the air out of him with his pointy little elbow. Bucky gives his shoulder a squeeze, just like those times he'd grab him and pull him in for a hug out of nowhere, but no, he's not going to try too hard not to look like the cat that got the canary here. So Bucky looks him right in the eye, and beams, holding up two fingers, "I'm aces in the sack, that's what."

Deep down, he feels like a weight's off his chest. He knows what it is; pure relief that Steve's fine, he liked it, he really, really enjoyed it. The smile softens fondly when Steve confirms it, and even better, calls him a blockhead rather than they both settle into that awkward post-heat pretend-nothing-happened forced casualness between them. Steve settles into his arm, doesn't act like it's cuddling (thank God) and doesn't question it too much, just lets them both enjoy the weight and post-sex haze.

Looks like neither of them are getting up anytime soon. He could probably carry Steve to bed, but there's no way he's doing that while Steve's conscious, he'd kill him if he bridal-carried him, even though Bucky's thinking the bed would be better on Steve's back. His hand slides up and down Steve's arm, soothingly, then goes back to rest somewhat loosely around his chest; not too tight, but firm enough where Steve can trust he won't let him go rolling off onto the floor. The room smells of sex and sweat, Steve's lying all his weight on mostly one side of his body and looking down, there's pastel streaks on parts of their bodies, but really, he doesn't think he's been so satisfied in a long time.

"Go on, Steve, sleep as much as you want," he murmurs. And when he think Steve might be dozing off or out, Bucky leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Edited 2014-09-12 22:20 (UTC)

"I guess you're good for a few things, maybe," is what Steve's saying, but then Bucky does absolutely nothing to hide the look on his face, and Steve can't help but roll his eyes and make a derisive little sound (that Bucky can probably tell he doesn't mean at all, because… yeah, okay. That was really, really good, and it's pretty much all thanks to Bucky, yeah). He almost asks if he should expect similar treatment in the future - but that doesn't quite seem like something he should joke about. Or something he should expect, no matter how nice this is, right now - how Bucky's keeping him close, they haven't gone all awkward, and if Steve has any say about it, they won't. So he just hums, noncommittally, but if he's looking pretty pleased - pleasured - himself… well, maybe Bucky can have this one. This once.

And maybe that's why Steve can't help but murmur, quietly, against the skin of Bucky's chest in this little huff of breath, "Thanks."

But overall… yeah, Steve's fine. He's great, and he's comfortable, and he'll certainly worry about the mess on the couch and their skin and everything else later on, when he wakes up. Right now, he's sliding faster and faster into sleep, his body curling up a little against Bucky's, because it's just the right amount of warm, and it's helping to soothe all the little aches from what they just did - muscle aches, from holding himself steady, or moving, or this slow, deep ache that actually feels a little like triumph, and satisfaction, from accommodating Bucky inside of him.

Bucky's not helping - or, really, he is, the way he's touching Steve's arm, then wrapping his arm around him, keeping him put like he's telling him it's safe to sleep. When Bucky follows that unspoken prompt with words that say as much, Steve can't resist any longer. "You, too," he says, because Bucky's got to be worn out, too. But that's all the attention he can spare. His body shifts a little, curling against Bucky a bit better now that he's not worried about falling off the couch, his free hand sliding to wrap around Bucky's hip, slim fingers hooking there until they slowly relax, as his breathing evens out.

The last thing he feels - thinks he feels? - is the press of soft, warm lips to his forehead, but when he wakes up, he might not be sure whether that was real or a dream.

[Part Two continued over here]

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