Touch-starved. Needy. Eager. Responsive.
Bucky Barnes hasn't felt this way since the 40s. He didn't know it was possible- he thought the Hydra experiments did away with this part of him once and for all. His wires were crossed, and desire was a dist...
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Steve's eyes fluttered shut. He was so fucking pretty— always had been, even back when Bucky was the only one to notice it. But now, as Captain America, he was the undeniable picture of perfection no matter who was looking— his chiseled jaw was strong and determined. His sculpted nose, straight and unyielding like his moral compass. Those soft pink lips that, when they parted, spoke only the truth.
To the outside world, Steve was the physical embodiment of virtue. He was righteousness personified.
But there in Bucky's bed, Steve was nothing but sin.
When he looked up at Bucky from between your thighs, he was so low, so close to you, that Bucky could only see his eyes. Once pious and principled, now they were dark, the empyrean blue almost fully drowned out by black. There was a fierceness in that black that made Bucky shiver— something untamed, simmering just below the surface.
It was enough to make a man's blood run cold, seeing this paragon of human existence lying there, panting and predatory. Close enough to devour you whole, if he so desired. But when Bucky shivered, it wasn't because he was afraid— it was because he knew that look. He remembered it.
When Steve had asked that question— could he see?— you glanced at Bucky, your eyes bright with exhilaration. You almost laughed, not to make fun of Steve, but because that question was all too familiar; Bucky had asked the same thing months ago. But Bucky was deadly serious back then, and tonight, in your nearly-empty bedroom, Steve was deadly serious, too.
Instead of giggling, you let your knees fall apart as an answer. Steve paused for a moment to collect himself before he slithered down the bed— it was like he knew. Whatever he was about to see when he settled his shoulders between your thighs, he knew it was going to destroy him.
He took in the view with a shuddering breath, and when his midnight eyes met Bucky's, that pinnacle of man had shattered. Cracked and ruined down to his very core, led astray by the sight before him— your leaking cunt, thoroughly fucked and filled by his best friend.
From where he lay next to you, Bucky could hear Steve's heart hammering in his chest. He heard Steve's slow, deep breaths, and how he worked to slow his racing pulse seemingly through willpower alone. Steve blinked, hard, and when he met Bucky's eyes again, he was cooler. More composed. He stifled that beast down inside him, locked it further and further away with each breath. But he would never be able to hide it completely— Steve was always honest.
Months ago, when Bucky's own burning curiosity was answered, he hadn't been able to resist. He had pulled you to your knees immediately, plunged inside, fucked you again. But Steve was a better man than Bucky; he had always had more self control. And of course, with you, Steve was more reserved. You weren't his, and judging by the way he kept looking to Bucky for approval, he was acutely aware that he was a guest in this bedroom.
So no, Steve didn't touch you. But he swallowed roughly, and when he looked up at Bucky, the wolfish intensity in his eyes sent electricity sparking under Bucky's skin. Despite the voltage coursing through him, his body didn't react; super soldier or not, he still needed to recover from his two back-to-back orgasms. But Steve adjusted his hips, and Bucky could see his thick cock standing hard and ready, drooling precum against the sheets.
