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Bucky was never the reckless kind when it came to loving. In the past, and yes by past he means the 1940s, he couldn’t be careless with relationships. Those times were different, women were proper in ways he didn’t want to mess with in fear of losing his chance altogether. The wildest he’d done was felt up a dame in the movie theater or fool around in a car — but they never even went all the way.
Bucky wonders now if perhaps no one has ever been that into him or maybe he’s never been that into anyone either. He wanted to touch a dame for the sake of touching one. He wanted to round the bases to brag about how far he’d gone. But he’d never actually met someone he couldn’t keep his hands off of.
He’d expect this to happen least of all with Sam. Because even in front of the cameras and the press, Sam Wilson is the most cool, collected guy you’ll ever see. Even around his family or in front of strangers. Anywhere you find Sam, he’s civil and calm. He always knows what to say. It honestly made Bucky nervous to speak around the man when they first met. And the times Bucky has sputtered unintelligibly in front of him, Sam merely chuckles with a smooth grin and pats him on the back as if Bucky’s attempt at a coherent sentence was a decent one.
So for Sam to not only want Bucky but like this — at any time, any place? Bucky has no idea what the fuck to do with himself when encountering this new, feral side of Sam.
The first time it happened like that, was in the fucking woods. Bucky couldn’t believe it. At that point they had only hooked up once back in D.C. They hadn’t put a label on it and Sam, cool as ever, mentioned he was okay with keeping things casual.
The funny thing is, it didn’t feel casual to Bucky. They couldn’t rush when Bucky had to spend so much time opening Sam up, watching his muscles tense, feeling him squirm underneath his lips when he dipped his head to taste him. That day still lives rent-free in Bucky’s mind.
But Sam called it casual so Bucky didn’t let himself put any pressure on it. He’d wait around until the next time Sam called. For a mission, for sex, for whatever Sam wanted to call him for.
Sam called for another mission. And after, they were in the middle of nowhere, Germany, waiting for Joaquín to meet them back at the Quinjet when Sam started to pull Bucky away. He thought maybe Sam wanted to show him something… in the woods? Honestly, Bucky had no fucking clue what was happening. But he dutifully followed Sam until they walked far enough through the tree line that the jet wasn’t even visible anymore.
Sam pressed him against the rough bark of a tree trunk and slid his hands down to Bucky’s tact belt.
“You mind?” Sam had asked as if Bucky would ever say no — like no, thanks Sam, I’d rather you not touch me. Yeah fucking right.
Bucky reached over to find the zipper on Sam’s suit and they got each other off standing against that tree, leaving a mess on the forest floor. Bucky can still picture their release muddled into the dirt and leaves. He can still envision Sam with his suit halfway down his thighs — god, the sight of it still works Bucky up at night.
The second time it happened like that was in a motel where they were sharing a room with Joaquín.
“Hey Buck, can I have a word outside?” Sam had said, his voice demanding enough that Bucky thought he’d done something wrong. He didn’t know, at the time, he was meant to be thinking with his dick.
He followed Sam down the hallway to a supply closet where Sam pulled him inside the cramped space and asked him to fuck him. They were gone forty-five minutes and when they got back, Joaquín asked if everything was okay.
“All good, J. I’m beat, gonna shower and go to bed,” Sam replied, leaving Bucky and Joaquín alone as he made his way to the bathroom. Bucky avoided making eye contact with the kid, hoping desperately that he didn’t smell like sex.
So now, Bucky’s been thinking with his dick — much too often. But he has to because he’s so bad at predicting when Sam is feeling it enough to sneak off with him. He never sees it coming. Sam has way too good of a poker face.
Bucky is not great at masking anything. Which is why today, they’re sitting in the back of the Quinjet after another mission and Bucky’s foot won’t stop bouncing on the floor. He’s been waiting all day for Sam to pull him aside, rip his belt open, get his hands on him. Anything. But it hasn’t happened. And being on the jet means they’re going home, usually it happens before this.
As the jet takes off, Bucky considers initiating this time. But it feels awkward since they’ll be landing in D.C. and Bucky would have to essentially invite himself back to Sam’s place. Besides, he’s currently panicking that Sam’s over it, over him. Maybe Sam doesn’t want this anymore or worse, maybe Sam met someone else.
It’s completely plausible. Bucky’s been thanking his lucky stars for the three times they’ve been together. He’s grateful they happened at all. He could be content with the repertoire of mental images of Sam naked and moaning to last him through the next century, Bucky thinks.
He tells himself to be good with that. Good with what Sam’s given him. It’s enough.
But his foot won’t stop thumping until Sam’s hand finds his knee. Bucky blinks up at him. He hadn’t noticed Sam move to his side. He was so in his head.
Sam smiles at him, letting his hand slide off his knee. Bucky’s heart sinks with it, for a split second he was hoping this was it. That Sam would take him to the narrow bathroom at the back of the jet or just do it right here while Joaquín was still up at the controls, in the cockpit. They could be fast.
Dear god, listen to himself. He’s never been so desperate but he is. He can feel it. How feral he is to get Sam’s hands on him, to taste him one last time, to get inside him again.
But Sam’s only sitting next to him, hands to himself, not speaking another word. Calm, cool, collected — Sam Wilson, as always.
This would be the moment to say something, Bucky thinks, while they’re still alone. His hands clasp together as he tries not to fidget or stutter through his words. He wants to say it casually, come off as natural, in a way that says he’d be fine if Sam declined.
“Do you — are you um, doing anything tonight?”
He doesn’t look at Sam, his face already blushing with how unnatural he sounds.
“Nah, you?” Sam returns.
“Uh, driving back. I guess.”
“Mm.”
Bucky glances over but Sam’s looking straight ahead too. What’s going on, Bucky wants to scream. Is this really over?
“You know, I haven’t seen your place,” Bucky says, “since, uh, the last time.”
He means the first time they hooked up. And by the way Sam’s eyebrows rise, he knows.
“Hasn’t changed much.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay.”
Bucky’s stomach tightens in knots. It’s really over. Sam’s done with him. Bucky swiftly thinks back to the last twenty-four hours wondering if he’s said anything wrong. Wondering how the fuck he messed this up.
“But you can come see it, if you want,” Sam says. Bucky turns so fast, he’s nearly dizzy.
“Yeah,” he blurts, so uncool, he’s not sure why Sam ever wanted him. He’s a blubbering mess, a brain-damaged former assassin that’s over a hundred years old.
The rest of the flight is mostly quiet until Joaquín joins them and cracks a few jokes with Sam. The kid is smooth too. Bucky wonders if Sam’d ever been interested in him. He hopes not, he tries to focus on the fact that Sam still invited him over when they land. Well, sort of, he’s at least allowing Bucky to see his place.
They step into Sam’s apartment and the air feels different between them. All the other times felt easy — but possibly that’s because Bucky was never expecting anything. This time, he’s not only anticipating something, he’s praying to any heavens above that Sam might touch him.
Bucky watches Sam walk into his living room and check something on his bookshelf. He adjusts a picture frame. Bucky steps over and peers at the frame too. It’s a photo of Sam with Sarah and the boys. One Bucky has seen a dozen times. They’re in Louisiana standing on the docks. It’s one of Sam’s favorites, his too.
“You visiting soon?” Bucky asks.
“I hope so, don’t got anything booked yet.”
Sam stares at the framed photo in silence. Bucky gnaws at his bottom lip.
“Do you want me to go?” Bucky asks.
Sam exhales and it’s one of the first slips Bucky’s seen in Sam’s facade all day.
“You’re tired, I should go,” Bucky says, taking a step back. Why was he standing so close?
“No, wait,” Sam says. Bucky freezes in place while Sam slowly turns toward him. “We should talk.”
“Okay.”
“Listen, I think I’ve gone about this the wrong way.”
“About what?” Bucky asks.
“Us,” Sam says and even though Bucky’s not sure they are worthy of an “us” the word sings brightly in his ears.
“Look, um,” Sam starts, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s never usually nervous, at least not around Bucky.
Bucky wants to reach forward, take his hand, and squeeze it tight. But he keeps his feet planted waiting for Sam to continue.
“I wasn’t expecting that first time — even though I initiated,” Sam half laughs. “I sort of thought you’d say no or something. Maybe I was just tipsy from the drinks we had with J at the bar that night.”
“Yeah,” Bucky’s voice cracks. Sam regrets it, all of it. Fuck. “I should go.”
“No, don’t — let me finish,” Sam pleads. “I’m trying to say I wasn’t expecting this thing to continue. For us to keep…”
“You’ve been initiating every time,” Bucky points out.
“I know but I wasn’t planning on it. I just… fuck, I’m attracted to you. And it’s been good. I wanted more.”
Bucky swallows hard. “I wanted more too.”
Sam nods, a small smile surfacing. Bucky really notices how nervous he is. Sam is never nervous. Fuck, he wants to hold him.
“I didn’t mean more often,” Sam clarifies. “I meant, I regret calling it casual. I regret not talking about this the first time.”
“Oh,” Bucky says, his head spinning. Sam wants him? Sam wants more than sex with him?
“I get it, if you don’t want that. I probably took it too far. In the forest and that motel,” Sam continues, running a hand down his face like he’s embarrassed by the two hottest things that’s ever happened to Bucky.
“No… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” Bucky says.
“Which time?” Sam asks, his mouth tilting up into a smirk.
“Every time. Sam, this is… I didn’t expect any of this either. But I don’t wanna stop. And you can literally have me anywhere. I don’t care, the woods and motel were so fucking hot.”
“Oh,” Sam says, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“Are you kidding?” Bucky shakes his head. “Look, I know I’m out of practice, but I’m sure you’re not. You had to know I was enjoying myself… a lot.”
“Actually, you’re damn hard to read.”
“I was trying to play it cool,” Bucky sighs.
Sam’s smile spreads fully across his face now, the nervous energy from before officially lifting.
“You’re definitely not cool,” Sam quips.
Bucky rolls his eyes, but smiles. He loves when Sam teases him, he’s never told him that either.
“Well, you must like something about me.”
“Mm,” Sam pretends to think as if he can’t recall a thing.
Bucky shoots him a look. But secretly, he’s happy they’re teasing each other. The one thing missing from the three times they were together was this. Sam was unusually quiet all those times. Moaning and direction was all Bucky got out of him. Not that those weren’t a wet dream in themselves. But Bucky missed the comfortability between them.
Bucky steps closer again.
“The whole flight home, I was dying to touch you.”
Sam’s eyes darken at Bucky’s confession. He lifts his hand and touches the back of his fingers to Bucky’s cheek, letting his knuckles slip down his neck, to the collar of his jacket. Even this light touch makes Bucky’s skin break out in goosebumps.
“I was scared to ask,” Bucky whispers, his eyes closing. “But I wanted you so bad.”
Sam answers by kissing Bucky on the mouth with purpose as his hands grip the seams of his jacket and draw them closer.
Bucky groans into the kiss that Sam keeps deepening. He can’t remember if he let himself be vocal before because Sam stops and chuckles against his lips.
“Stay the night,” Sam offers, cupping his jaw, waiting until Bucky opens his eyes again.
“I can stay the week.”
“The whole week, huh?” Sam grins.
“I mean, I have therapy next Wednesday. That’s all I gotta be back for.”
“God, you’re so sexy when you talk about therapy.”
Bucky pauses. “I… don’t know if that’s a joke.”
Sam’s head falls back and he laughs openly this time.
“It was a joke, but I’m happy you’re still going.”
Bucky presses his mouth in a tight smile, his face burning.
“Take your clothes off,” Sam says and Bucky’s happy for the instruction. He disrobes in less than a minute even with all his tact gear, his laced boots and the seven weapons hidden underneath.
Sam watches him, not removing a single item of clothing off himself. Bucky only realizes when he’s down to only underwear.
“Do I get to undress you?” Bucky asks.
“In the bedroom,” Sam nods and walks in that direction.
Bucky follows him, as he always does, until Sam sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls Bucky to him.
“Undress me and then I want you to eat me out. More than the first time. I love your tongue.”
“Fuck, okay,” Bucky stammers and get started on pulling off Sam’s clothes.
How did Bucky get so lucky that he’s allowed to undress him? He tries not to overwhelm himself with these thoughts as a naked Sam pushes himself back to the headboard and waits with his legs spread. Jesus christ, Bucky stops thinking instantly.
Bucky follows Sam’s direction and eats him out for twenty minutes. He’s pretty sure it’s longer than Sam expected because toward the end, he grabs Bucky’s wrist and says, “Fingers — fuck.”
He lets Sam come on his fingers. Somewhere during the time Bucky was eating his ass, he decided he wanted to savor tonight. Because this won’t be their last, and with the label of casual behind them, this is the first time Bucky can let himself relax and actually enjoy every second knowing there will be more.
Sam sounds surprised when he comes the first time. Maybe he expected Bucky to rush.
Bucky kisses his way back up to Sam’s panting mouth.
“I’ll need a few minutes now,” Sam breathes.
“Good,” Bucky says, kissing his neck.
“You’re nothing like I thought you’d be,” Sam pants.
Bucky picks his head up. “What'd you expect?”
“I don’t know, you surprised me. Even the first time. You were kissing my shoulder blades,” Sam recalls.
Bucky remembers too. Sam was on all fours and Bucky had pushed inside him for the first time. He couldn’t help himself, seeing the broad expanse of Sam’s muscled back before him. He leaned down and kissed each shoulder blade before fucking him.
“It never felt casual... to me,” Bucky admits.
Sam stares at him long enough that Bucky nearly takes it back, but Sam reaches up to kiss him, swallowing the regret on Bucky’s tongue.
By the time Bucky is sliding inside Sam again, it feels like he’s waited a lot longer than two weeks. Two weeks ago they were in a motel supply closet. Two weeks ago, Bucky had to sit uncomfortably in the corner of a motel room while Sam showered without him. Tonight, they can shower together, he realizes. That’s what Bucky’s thinking when he bottoms out and a delicious moan sounds from Sam’s lips.
Bucky kisses him tonight, much more than he did the first three times. He wasn’t sure how much was too much for casual. The truth was, Bucky was holding himself back all those times. From not kissing too much, not making too much eye contact, trying to keep quiet, and most notably, trying not to come so fast. He hasn’t admitted to Sam that he’s his first since the 40s’ and even Bucky is amazed that he lasted as long as he did. But he thought about it strategically, not letting himself fully enjoy it. Tonight, there’s no strategy, no holding back. He’s finally letting himself have everything he wants — Sam.
Bucky comes first this time, maybe because of his lack of restraint or maybe because he got Sam off once already. Either way Sam doesn’t seem bothered and combs his fingers through Bucky’s hair while he waits for him to come down from his high.
“I assume you’re not done.”
Sam nips his earlobe. Bucky closes his eyes, he has no chance of getting soft if Sam’s gonna keep talking like this tonight.
“Not even close,” Bucky confirms.
Sam’s eyes widen. Bucky didn’t think to mention how many times he can come with the serum. Holding back before meant hiding that as well.
He pushes back into Sam, still as hard as before.
“Shit,” Sam curses, arching back and wrapping both hands around Bucky’s neck again. He pulls him back down for a kiss as Bucky resumes fucking him.
He’s never watched Sam come twice before, Bucky realizes. Because if he had he would’ve remembered. Sam’s second orgasm is so much more intense than the first. Bucky can feel how taut Sam’s muscles get when he first goes still, then his nails dig into Bucky’s back before he starts coming, hard and fast. He shouts next to Bucky’s ear, arching back and it’s enough to make Bucky lose it for the second time too.
He’s still coming after Sam’s done, feeling himself pulse inside of him.
“Oh god — holy fuck, Sam.”
Sam’s combing his hair again, when the waves of his orgasm finally stop. This is something Sam didn’t do the other times they were together. Bucky’s head tingles, a calm washing over him, with Sam’s fingers running down his scalp.
Bucky’s head is resting on Sam’s chest and it vibrates when Sam laughs.
“What?” Bucky asks, too lazy to lift his head.
“Nothing. I’m glad we talked.”
Bucky smiles against his nipple.
“We can shower together this time.”
Sam breathes out another laugh.
“Can we?” he teases.
“Can’t believe you took the shower first at the motel.”
“I had to,” Sam says, “you came inside me.”
“Oh… yeah,” Bucky murmurs, suddenly thankful he didn’t realize this when he was stuck waiting in the room with the kid.
Bucky’s breath is back to normal now, enough that he kisses and starts to nibble on Sam’s nipple.
“Hey, all you’re getting is two rounds tonight,” Sam warns.
Bucky sits up. “You’re very bossy.”
“And you follow direction very well.”
Bucky can’t help the smile that breaks onto his face. He does.
He scoops Sam up in both arms and carries him to the bathroom. Sam leaves a trail of kisses on Bucky’s shoulder during the short walk there.
“You’re staying ‘till Wednesday, right?” Sam asks as Bucky starts the water.
“You have me all week, sweetheart,” Bucky smiles, still holding him in his arms.
“Good, I’m not done with you yet.”
“I’ll never be done with you.”