He was finally starting to catch his breath when Bucky pulled him up for a kiss, the lightheaded sensation faded enough that his body no longer appreciated the subtle stretch of his muscles. He ached...and when those fingers dipped back into him, he broke the kiss with a choked off yelp, one hand reaching back to grab Bucky's wrist. "Ow!...I can't..no more..."

The promise of a hot bath was nice, though, and he nodded, muttering something about working over tomorrow to make up for the extra water. He was already shivering though, and the sticky mess on his chest and thighs was starting to cool and get uncomfortably tacky. While Bucky went to fill the tub, Steve gingerly got out of bed, moving carefully to avoid straining himself and to avoid getting any of the sticky mess on their blankets. It was too cold to wash them...and Steve didn't think he was mental capable of washing them at the moment.

He was wiping at his chest when Bucky came back to collect him, and while he walked a little carefully, he nevertheless followed the larger man to their bathroom, eyeing the little amount of space for a moment before he climbed in. He hissed a little as he leaned back against Bucky's chest, a small pained sound in his throat.

"I don't think I got any on the bed..." Because that was the important thing, right?