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"So not ever? Not anybody?"
"I just said I never did, Bucky." Steve sighs and lines up his shot.
The SHIELD psychiatrist laid all the ground rules for them about dealing with Bucky. She'd say that he was fixating on little things, things that he can wrap his head around to take his mind off of the enormity of his real problems. Mostly it just feels like being a teenager again, Bucky smirking and needling him about one thing or another. It's not bad. He takes his shot, but the striped ball he was aiming for bounces off the lip of the pocket.
Bucky prowls around the pool table, keeping his eyes on the balls except for a quick flick back up to Steve. "Just hard to believe, that's all. How's a guy like you get to 95 without ever finding a dame to get personal with." He sinks his shot with a satisfying crack and gives Steve a smirk that almost makes him feel like everything's back to normal.
"I wasn't even awake most of that time, that's not fair. And...any girl I met back then only wanted me because I was Captain America." Not any girl, of course, but Peggy was different in pretty much every way. The girls in the chorus line or the ones who waited outside, none of them knew him. They just saw the muscles, the uniform, came blushingly towards him with stars and stripes in their eyes. Nothing wrong with that, but it wasn't what Steve wanted.
"And what about now, smartass?" Bucky makes his next shot too and twirls the cue in his hands. "Plenty of girls around now, and you've got that whole secret identity thing."
Steve sighs, leaning on his own cue as he watches Bucky methodically clear the table of solids. It feels strange, to just talk about this, but he believed for too long that he would never talk to Bucky again. Even after he knew Bucky was still alive, it seemed like they wouldn't get him back. He's promised himself to never cut off the conversation, never shy away from any topic Bucky wants to discuss. And now, apparently, he wants to discuss Steve's virginity. "They don't know where I've been. They...they're great, but they can't understand."
Bucky is quiet as he plays. He sinks the last solid, purple, and pauses, looking from the 8-ball to Steve. "You've set yourself up with a nice paradox there. Planning to die a virgin?"
"If I've got to." Steve shrugs. "I mean, my life is hectic. Dangerous. I couldn't ask a woman to sign up for that, even if we could make it work. Besides, it's not like I can miss what I've never had."
Finally, Bucky lines up his final shot. The 8-ball careens across the green felt before disappearing into the corner pocket. "Gotta say, Rogers, that's a pretty rough outlook. And I know rough."
"I guess." Steve turns to grab the triangle from the shelf behind him. "You want to go again?"
"And kick your ass in five minutes again? I don't need my thrills that cheap." Bucky snorts and puts his cue back on the rack. "We can give someone else a chance."
They'd commandeered the rec room at the SHIELD base, sticking another cue through the door handles. Not that anyone else would have dared interrupt, but it was the sort of thing Bucky would have done back in the old days, while Steve pretended to fret and was secretly thrilled by the devil-may-care rulebreaking. Steve removes the cue now, returning it along with his own to the rack.
Bucky isn't technically allowed to leave the base when not on a mission. He's made it to Steve's apartment a few times anyway, but tonight Steve follows him back to his quarters. The room is small, but larger than plenty of New York apartments these days. He's got his own bathroom and a kitchenette, even though they serve meals in the mess, and it's a pigsty. The psychiatrist would probably say it's a reaction against the stripped-down barely-human life he led as the Winter Solider; Steve's lived with Bucky before, and he knows that it's a good sign.
They sit on the edge of the bed, enjoying cold beer from the fridge, and Steve is starting to settle into it, the feeling that everything can be like it used to be again, when Bucky nudges his foot against Steve's.
"You know, there is someone who meets your criteria."
"My what?"
"For popping your cherry." Bucky is looking straight ahead, not at him. "You know. Someone here, now, who knows what you've gone through and doesn't give a shit that you're Captain America. Understands the danger and doesn't care about that either."
Steve' s stomach turns over. He's been dedicated to making things be like they were before, but before had a lot of awkward longings, cramps in his stomach from the shame of it. He's ready to go back to that, to let the vague heat settle at the base of his spine and never ever say anything to give himself away.
"You're missing one," Steve says. He's got his own eyes on the neck of the bottle now, so he's not sure if Bucky is sneaking glances at him too. He hopes that the prickle he can feel at the back of his neck is eyes on him.
"Oh yeah?" Bucky's voice is low and rich, a rumble more than a whisper. "What's that?"
"She-they've gotta want me back."
Bucky's warm hand closes around the back of his neck. Steve's heart gets excited before his brain can process it, already hammering in his chest when their lips finally meet. It's at once everything and nothing like he always imagined. Bucky's lips are exquisite, soft, and he tastes like beer. Steve always imagined he would, imagined Bucky coming home from a failed date full of lust and liquor, so desperate for touch that he would take anything, anybody. Those fantasies kept him warm on many a lonely night.
But he's taller than Bucky, even seated, which he never would have pictured. And he doesn't feel ashamed. During the war, he had bigger fish to fry than who he was thinking about kissing, and now he's woken up in a time where most people just don't seem to care. He doesn't feel guilty at all, and that's enough to make him press back with more confidence than he might deserve.
"You're such a tease," Bucky mumbles against his mouth, pulling back only far enough to catch Steve's lip between his teeth.
"I don't mean to be," Steve says once he's released. He never wants to be released, wants Bucky to take every part of him, hold him and refuse to let go. He would say as much, but that would mean putting a hold on the kissing. Under no circumstances does he want to stop the kissing, until Bucky pulls away and looks at Steve with a spark in his eyes that Steve was so afraid he'd never see again.
"So, why don't we see about that virginity of yours?"
Kissing is the worst.
Steve lets Bucky strip him, pulling his t-shirt up and off and taking the time to admire him. A bit ostentatiously, in Steve's opinion, but Bucky was never one for subtle. He flushes and lies back while Bucky maps him with his hands, spans his hands over pecs that he's pretty sure are as big as his head used to be. He's used to this body now, lived in it long enough, but it's never been explored this way. His nipples have never gotten hard under someone else's nimble fingers before. But Bucky is checking him out, seeing how he works, like he's a new car or something. Flash the headlights, rev up the engine.
He feels like he's been hard since Bucky touched his neck, and finally Bucky is thumbing the button of his jeans open. Steve lifts his hips so Bucky can tug his jeans and briefs down.
"Fuck." Bucky sounds impressed, and Steve can't help but shift a little, posing shyly. People admire his body now, sure, practically every day. But this is Bucky, and Steve can't help but be proud to be wanted. "Look at you, Captain."
"Yeah." Steve smiles up at him, arching his eyebrows. "Serum works all over, I guess."
"I didn't know what to imagine," Bucky says. When Steve cocks his head, Bucky gives him a little shrug. "I saw the before. Knew the after had to be different, but wasn't sure how much. Made it kinda hard to fantasize."
Heat blooms anew in Steve's belly, more like a summer breeze than the furnace that's already burning. "You fantasized about me? Back then?"
"Sure I did." Bucky wraps his hand around Steve's cock, giving him a nice easy stroke, like he's just getting familiar. "Made sure I never let on. Knew you would do it, if I asked."
"That's an awful reason."
Bucky's hand stills at the base of Steve's cock, and he makes eye contact. He looks serious, even though there's a flush to his cheeks and lips are lush and red from the kisses. "Was worried you didn't want to and would do it anyway out of...fucking obligation."
Steve inhales deeply, and it's ridiculous that he can still feel so many tender emotions when his body is just screaming lust. "I would have loved it. I will love it, if you ever get on with it."
The serious look goes away, and Bucky grins, rubbing his thumb just under the head of Steve's cock, toying with him. "Hey, who's the virgin here? Why don't you sit back and let the expert work?"
"I don't know if -- ah -- expert is the right word." Steve's hips jerk up independent of his control, thrusting into Bucky's touch, seeking more.
Bucky smirks at him, and it's the filthiest thing Steve has ever seen. "Just wait 'til I'm through with you, then we'll see."
Steve wants to say something witty back, honestly does, he hates to let Bucky get the last word. But Bucky's mouth is suddenly around his cock, and it just doesn't seem sporting to make a volley back when his opponent can't respond. Also, he seems to have forgotten what words are.
As sinfully good as Bucky's lips are for kissing, they're even better like this. Bucky can only take him in halfway, Steve's too big for anything more, but he wraps his hand around what he can't fit in his mouth. Honestly, between the licking and the sucking, Steve's almost grateful; if half is this good, he can't imagine what it would be like to have that hot, wet heat around the whole thing. Bucky's metal hand is cool enough to make him jump at first, but it quickly warms to match his flesh. He keeps his hips flat on the bed, even though it takes most of his superhuman strength to resist thrusting. Bucky is either appreciative or teasing, running his hands over the sharp cut of Steve's hipbones, rubbing his thumb against the crease of his thigh.
He's so close, and he's sure it's only the serum that's given him the gift of this much stamina. He searches for something to hold onto and finds Bucky's hair. Tentatively, he strokes his hand through it, and Bucky purrs like a cat. Purrs like a cat around his cock, and oh god, the vibrations do him in. He's coming before he really realizes it, too fast to warn (which even he knows is considered good manners), too fast to do anything but cry out and try to ride the wave of sensation that courses through him. It's nothing like coming by his own hand, not the least because once he's done, Bucky crawls up and settles his strong, compact body against Steve's longer one.
"So?" His cock is hard against Steve's belly, and he rolls his hips, just in case Steve had somehow missed that fact. "Who's the expert?"
"I don't know." Steve feels pleasantly fuzzy, but he's not going to let Bucky down. Never leave a man behind probably applies to this too. He wraps his arms around Bucky and shifts a little so they fit together just right. "Being good...great, even, at one aspect of a, ah, particular task doesn't make you an expert."
"Fuck." Bucky bites his own lip while he grinds. "One blowjob, and suddenly you're a professor of fucking?"
The grinding is good, but Steve wants more. He grabs Bucky's shoulders instead, guides him up until he's straddling Steve's hips. That way, Steve can get a hand around his cock, actually feel the thing leaving sticky smears on his stomach. "I'm just saying. I think there's a lot you need to demonstrate, before I feel comfortable calling you an expert."
Bucky groans, a rich low noise that Steve remembers from too late at night in an apartment with thin walls. It sounds better like this, up close and personal, knowing it's his touch that's getting Bucky off. "I'm gonna demonstrate you so hard you won't be able to walk, Rogers."
"Is that a promise, soldier?"
And Bucky is laughing as he comes over Steve's perfect abs, his hand. Bucky is laughing, and Steve's heart feels like it's about to explode in his chest. The good version of the feeling of being in that damn chamber, the serum filling him up and stretching him out and making him more. Like that, except warm and cozy.
Steve lets Bucky handle clean up because, hey, he's the expert. They end up curled together in Bucky's bed. Standard-issue SHIELD, which leaves it far below the deluxe California King Stark somehow managed to jam into Steve's apartment but way better than the thin mattress they often shared in their place in Brooklyn. It's feels strange to be the bigger guy, to have Bucky's back pressed to his front instead of the other way around. It's different, but lots of things are different now. Some worse. Lots of them better. This, Steve thinks, arm wrapped tight around Bucky's waist, feeling his heart beat, is much better.