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Having Sam as a roommate has grown…tolerable.
Okay fine, it was okay. Fine. Good. Great. Whatever. After they got over the initial phase of sort of pretending to hate each other, Bucky has gotten used to him. He’s gotten used to his pestering, semi-passive aggressive post-it note reminders littered all over the apartment. He’s gotten used to the smell of Sam’s laundry detergent (Coconut Whispers) when it’s Sam’s turn to do their laundry (they do all their laundry in one load to save water—Sam’s idea). He’s gotten used to seeing him walk around without a shirt or in those short shorts or God forbid–both when it’s summer and Sam just has to go for his morning runs…outside. And it doesn’t give him new conflicting feelings, not at all. He’s just gotten used to him.
There’s just this one, itty, bitty, teeny, weeny, problem.
One night, one inconspicuous and non-important night, Bucky had an odd--that’s the word for it, dream. A dream about Sam, a dream featuring, starring, Sam. He might’ve been shirtless, and might’ve been in those short shorts–those neon orange ones that look like a damn traffic cone–and he might’ve been underneath Bucky in a very vulnerable and promising position. And look, Bucky isn’t implying that he’s into the guy or anything, but he’s only human, and well…he’s an attractive man. So his mind supplied him with this notion, mixed with the fact that his libido has been pretty MIA for the past couple of years since getting out of cyro so he hasn’t gotten any physical action since the 40’s, and then he woke up with damp sheets covered in something that is only between him and his washing machine, he was just thankful it was his turn at doing laundry that week.
Bucky didn’t even know he liked men before this. And despite the obvious stereotype, he does know about gay people. For crying out loud he lives in NYC in the 21st century, he doesn’t think it’s possible for him to not know about gay people. But he himself never saw a guy that way before, and despite what crazy Steve Rogers Captain America fangirls thought, Bucky never really liked Steve that way. He didn’t even know if Steve was gay, though maybe he was, upon further consideration. That would explain his weird relationship with Tony. Maybe Steve was a bit gay.
It doesn’t really bother Bucky though, he has no problem with it being a guy, it was more that it was his friend and person he’s currently living with that’s an issue.
But it’s fine. It’s normal, just a dream, one single little dream, and his body’s natural reaction to having a random wet dream about one of your coworkers. And also your roommate. And sort of friend. Whatever. Right?
Wrong. Because he keeps having these dreams, and he either wakes up having to replace his bed linen or with an awkward and persistent boner that doesn’t go away unless he takes a freezing cold shower (which he hates doing, for pretty valid reasons) or the more obvious way.
That’s the other thing, when he does jerk off, he can’t really finish without thinking about it. About Sam, how his beautiful huge ass looks in those little shorts and how pretty he sounded–especially when he would come. And it always happened in those dreams, Bucky would fuck him, or suck him off, or jerk him off or whatever, and he would come with the most gorgeous look on his face and this sound that made Bucky shiver all over thinking about it. It was torture, it was evil–how his brain teased him and toyed him like that. Of course he doesn’t know if Sam actually looks or sounds like that during sex, or if he feels like that–which is especially fucked up this dreams are so vivid to the point that he remembers how he feels.That’s probably the thing that tips him over into orgasm most often.
And it’s not like Bucky hasn’t tried, believe him when he says he has fucking tried, to think of anyone else or anything else when masturbating. But Jesus, he just can’t. Everytime he gets started, Sam just appears in his mind like a flash of light and then he can’t stop the train from derailing and heading that direction towards its destination. He comes so hard every time, and every time he comes, without fail, he says Sam’s name with an obscene amount of want attached to it that it’s a bit sickening.
It’s definitely gotten out of hand, and way out of Bucky’s control, but he keeps it to himself. Nobody in his life really needs to know. Dr Raynor certainly doesn’t need to know about his little sexual conundrum, he’s got bigger fish to fry in those sessions anyways. But it’s sort of driving him crazy, the fact that Sam walks around their apartment, looking so damn available and fuck it–hot as hell and Bucky just has to pretend it doesn’t affect him in anyway.
One time Sam knocks on Bucky’s door and he’s halfway through a…self care session and he freezes up. He throws like 3 blankets over himself before allowing him permission to come in. And of course, because God hates him, Sam is in nothing but a tiny ass towel covering his lower half. Bucky was just about to implode.
“Jesus Sam,” he uttered, a bit startled. His cheeks go red as he lifted a hand and averted his gaze very quickly. “Yes?” Bucky then asked, accompanied with a silent swallow to try and fix his dry as hell throat–something he prays Sam doesn’t hear.
“Oh don’t be such a prude Barnes,” he said with a stupid sexy smirk that definitely wasn’t helping his current problem that’s only worsening beneath the layers of bedding. Bucky bites his lip. “Do you have any lotion I can borrow? I ran out and I need to moisturize.”
The thought of Sam moisturizing his borderline naked body makes him warm all over, and again, his dick twitches against the sheets. “Lotion? Uh–” he turned to the bedside table and there was lotion right there and once Bucky remembered just why it was there (let’s just say Bucky doesn’t often moisturize) his face grew even redder. Once Sam’s line of vision followed Bucky’s own, spotting the huge bottle right next to him, he gave an eyebrow raise.
“Look I’m not gonna say anything, as long as you let me borrow it,” Sam stated. “And I’ll return it…tomorrow.”
“Right. Sure. Yeah, just—” he leaned over to grab it and hand it towards him with a sheepish look. “Take it and go, please.”
Sam took it with a smile, and he looks like he’s holding back a laugh or another snarky comment. “Aye aye.”
When he left, closing the door all the way (thank the lord), Bucky groaned and fell back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. It will just never end.
That’s when Bucky decided he had to end it, or try his damndest to. To at least do something about it.
So he goes on a dating app. Which is an awful idea, brought to him by Dr Raynor, of course. It only took a couple of minutes to find a match with someone he deemed attractive and good-natured, it didn’t hurt that Bucky was an attractive guy and he definitely displayed that feature of himself in all his photos. Sure it’s sleazy, but it’s really like he’s looking for love right now. Just a temporary distraction.
Anyways he matches with this girl Sandra, and they get to talking and she’s pretty, and nice, and is only 5 miles away. Close, easy, a good start. They set up a date at this bar by his apartment that’s also not far from where she lives and they are going out around 8 pm tonight. Bucky takes a shower, puts on a nice outfit (or at least nice for him, which is slacks and a button up) and combs his hair to prepare. Of course, he wears his gloves to cover his mechanical arm, which sort of looks silly with the rest of the outfit but he just prays Sandra won’t bring it up. When he leaves his room, about ready to leave, he runs into Sam in the living room who is reading a book with his cute little reading glasses on. He also has plaid pajama pants and a nice fitted black shirt on. He would probably make a comment about how he looks like an old man-already in pajamas at 7:45 pm, reading a book with fucking reading glasses if he didn’t look so damn good and if he didn’t pull it off somehow so well. It sort of makes Bucky want to call off the date and just fall at his feet and kiss him all over. Plus, he can’t be talking when it comes to being an old man, Bucky is a 106-year-old (and counting) that has back issues despite being a literal super soldier.
“Where you going?” Sam asks, curious, not seeing Bucky but just hearing his footsteps. It’s only when he turns his head to take a peek at him does it dawn on him. “Ah, a hot date? About time. Was wondering when you’d finally get out there.”
Bucky chuckles nervously. That’s another thing, all while Bucky has been silently wanting to tear Sam’s clothes off and ruin him for anyone else until the sun comes up, Sam has been seeing people. Well, seeing and fucking them. Loudly. It’s like the worst thing ever, to see the lucky girl or guy that stumbles in the kitchen like a lost kitten looking for milk. Bucky has never learned so many names in such little time since he was in the army.
At least with his super soldier hearing he can hear Sam, and the noises he makes–he pockets those for his own fantasies and personal alone time activities. He tends to just zero in on Sam’s noises and the other person fades away, and he pretends it’s him he’s fucking, or who’s fucking him, or God whatever, anything. It’s sort of sick, he thinks he’s a bit perverted and pathetic and probably invading his privacy, but what can he do? Just ignore it and pretend like he can’t hear him? Or that it’s not giving his body a weird feeling and a completely inappropriate bodily reaction?
“I thought it was about time,” Bucky finally chokes out. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date.”
Sam gives a warm smile. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Do you remember your old time-y flirting skills from the 40’s?”
“Nope. All of it’s pretty much buried with my left arm,” Bucky jokes lightheartedly. “Plus, it’s just a bar, I don’t really think getting her flowers and telling her she’s the nicest dame I’ve ever seen is exactly fitting for this type of thing.”
“Yeah definitely don’t call her a dame.” Sam suggests with a small scoff. “Other than that, just be yourself. Or um, some version of yourself that isn’t as annoying.”
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.”
“Kidding. But seriously, don’t call her a dame, that’s like…kind of degrading.”
Bucky gives a small salute before walking over to the door. “Aye aye.”
“Tell her to have you home by 12!” Sam calls after. “And if you’re lucky she’ll be here by 12 too!”
He gives a laugh before he shuts the door behind him. He takes a huge inhale once the door is closed and hopes that this date will finally get rid of the flurry of emotions he always has around Sam.
-
So the date is sort of short lived.
After a good half an hour or so of light conversation, small talk mostly that Bucky has to sort of lie about or playfully dance around, Sandra–who Bucky quickly learns is a very forward person–stops their brief conversation about their favorite sitcoms to pretty much say:
“Hey look, this is nice and all, but you’re finer than a motherfucker and I’d love to have sex with you. Like tonight. Is your place good? I’m getting my kitchen done so it’s a mess right now.”
Bucky is a bit taken aback at first, but he thinks, fuck it. If Sam can have loud sex in their apartment, so can he. And this is a part of it, the whole moving on and getting over it plan, so he accepts the offer.
When they reach the apartment, Sam is not in the living room anymore and he doesn’t really know if that’s a blessing or a curse but he tries not to dwell on it, and Sandra doesn’t wait much or mutter an awkward ‘nice place’ before going right to kissing Bucky and shoving him against the door. It’s not really all that enjoyable, and Bucky is a bit disappointed, but he doesn’t really want to stop so he pictures that he’s kissing Sam and that gets him a bit more excited about kissing her.
Fuck, that’s not the plan.
After Sandra discards her purse and jacket, they end up stumbling towards his bedroom and Sandra pushes Bucky down on the bed and the next thing he knows she’s straddling him half naked and Bucky is grateful he just bought condoms and put them in his nightstand (and moved his bottle of lotion to the bathroom).
All they are doing now is kissing because Bucky’s sort of having…performance issues. Sandra tries to help, she’s rocking against Bucky with determination and Bucky admits it’s quite impressive. But still, nothing.
“Sorry,” Bucky can’t help but murmur between kissing. “It’s uh, been a while.”
Sandra nods slightly against him. “It’s okay. Can I touch you? Maybe that’ll help.”
“Sure. Yeah.” Bucky allows, and she unbuttons his pants to slip her hand in and find his cock and wraps her fingers delicately around it, stroking it slowly. Bucky closes his eyes, and his mind unwillingly provides him the image of Sam straddling him instead, stroking him with his large beautiful hands and his hot breath against his neck and the smell of his body wash right after a long shower—
Suddenly, boom, he’s back in business.
Sandra smiles with her supposed success, unknowingly. She then whispers some pretty dirty things in his ear and Bucky just pretends it’s Sam saying these things, to try and keep his boner, and then he moans into the next kiss with the thought of Sam praising him like that. Sandra likes his reaction and she’s adamant on the whole straddling him thing as a kind of foreplay so he just goes with it for a while, still not fully committed to being in the moment with her.
It’s sort of a blur but somehow they end up in swapped positions and Bucky is on top of her and his clothes are all stripped off. Bucky thinks, maybe once he’s actually fucking her, all his thoughts about Sam will just slip away. So once he rolls the condom on, he slips inside her, carefully and slowly so as to not hurt her, and she lets out a small but pleased moan. Bucky takes it as a good sign and keeps going until he’s all the way in.
“You okay?” he asks, just to make sure.
“Yes,” she answers, sounding a bit impatient. “Fuck me. Now.”
Bucky is a bit stunned, again. But he does so, and starts to fuck her in earnest. And it’s…
Useless. Because all Bucky can think about is Sam. He really tries to focus on Sandra, her fluttering eyelashes, the high-pitch noises coming out of her mouth, her cupid’s bow lips, but he really can’t stop thinking about Sam’s long and gorgeous eyelashes, Sam’s hot-as-shit sex noises, Sam’s pretty full lips. He gets lost in thinking about what it would be like to fuck Sam instead, and soon enough his eyes are closed and he’s moaning and groaning thinking about it. He’s absolutely fucked, too far gone, and it’s ruining his damn life. All he can think about is
“Sam.”
Shit. Did he say that out loud?
They both go still, freezing in place. Fuck. Bucky opens his eyes, reluctantly, and soon Sandra opens her eyes to look up at him with a confused look. Bucky goes as pale as a ghost. “What did you say?”
“San,” he mutters, trying desperately to save himself. “Like, San-dra.”
“Really?” She's a bit breathless, but she’s definitely coherent enough to know better. “‘Cause it sounded like you called me ‘Sam’.”
Bucky blows out a low exhale. “Uh…no.”
“Look,” she pushes slightly on his chest and Bucky takes the hint to slip off her and sighs, defeated. “If you’re still hung up over some girl, fucking me isn’t going to change that.”
Bucky rolls over and looks at her. “There’s no girl.”
And it’s not a lie. He’s telling the truth, there is no girl...
“Right. Yeah.” She sounds pissed, and scrambles to get up and get dressed. Bucky buries his face in his hands, he’s red all over and he can’t believe that just happened.
“Sandra–”
She laughs meanly. “Oh so you do know my name?”
“Sandra,” he repeats. “I’m sorry.”
“Just-” she mutters. “Save it.”
When she’s fully dressed, she shuts the door behind her, leaving Bucky alone and naked and wishing that he never downloaded that damn dating app.
- -
Sam is cooking a late dinner when the girl emerges from Bucky’s room, looking flushed, embarrassed and sort of angry.
Curiously, he turns to meet her eye and gives a small smile. “Hello there.”
Her blush further deepens and Sam regrets shedding his t-shirt as now his entire chest is on display in front of this stranger that Bucky brought over after a date. She attempts to give a polite smile back but it quickly falters on her lips. “Hi. Sorry, are you…?”
“Yeah I’m his roommate, sorry I was just–” he turns to the stove with the slowly boiling water on it. “-Making something to eat. Are you staying? ‘Cause I can make you some, and Bucky, obviously.”
Her face contorts a bit. “Who’s Bucky?”
“Uh,” Sam laughs awkwardly. “The guy you just f—I mean the person’s room you just left.”
She looks away, a bit unsure. “James?”
“Right.” Sam silently curses himself for blowing his cover. “Bucky is his nickname, his middle name is Buchanan and–anyways. Do you want some? It’s chicken and pasta.”
She shakes her head. “Thank you for offering, that’s very kind but I’m not staying.”
“Oh?” Sam says. And he really doesn’t want to pry but that response is definitely an instigator and before he knows it, he’s already prying.
“Yeah, your roommate is sort of a jerk,” she spits a bit harshly. Sam is a bit put off by the sheer honesty but that’s what he gets for being so nosy.
“He definitely can be, yes,” Sam plays into it. “But y’know, he has his reasons. Sorry though, that it didn’t work out. And that he was a jerk to you.”
He doesn’t pry anymore than that. He’s not sure if he wants to. Knowing about Bucky’s love life is definitely something Sam does not want to further expand on, he’s glad the guy is trying and that he’s giving himself a second chance at a normal and happy life but he really doesn’t like thinking about it for some reason. He wants to be happy for him, wants Bucky to find someone he likes and to have fun if that’s what he prefers but there’s some part of Sam that makes him a bit sick when he thinks about it for too long.
Well, if he’s honest with himself, he knows why. But he usually pushes that down.
“Say,” she utters, breaking Sam away from his thoughts. “You’re hot, do you want to go out sometime?”
Sam’s eyes go sort of wide at her unabashed confidence but he can’t say he’s not interested. He’s always liked when women are self-assured like that, it’s probably why he had such a crush on Natasha for such a long period of time before he realized it’s way too complicated to try and pursue. But this girl just got with, (or maybe didn’t? Who knows, he’s not asking) Bucky, his friend and roommate and it would be really weird to bring the girl Bucky had a failed date with back to the apartment. He’s sure Bucky would maim him, and he is so over getting hunted by the Winter Soldier, he’s leaving that in the past.
“Look, you are really pretty and nice and all but uh I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” he admits. “I mean, James can be a jerk, yes, but he’s my friend. And my roommate. I can’t really do that.”
She sighs but doesn’t look too offended. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Well I wish you the best, you seem like a good guy. Plus you can cook, that’s a win, girls love that shit.”
Sam laughs, flattered. “Thank you–” he pauses because he realizes he does not know her name.
“Sandra,” she says, extending her hand for him to shake. He takes it, finding this whole interaction insane but amusing.
“Sandra,” he echoes with a soft smile. “I’m Sam.”
Then, she gets this look on her face like she just saw a ghost. Sam slowly retracts his hand and gives a slightly concerned look. “You okay?”
“I gotta go.” she says abruptly, then runs off to grab her purse and jacket from the coat rack and slams the door behind her.
That was weird. Sam thinks, before turning back to finish making dinner. He just shakes his head and attempts to let it go.
– - -
Once Bucky gets himself together again, he exits his room and decides to try and get his mind off of the whole ordeal. Of course Sam is there at the kitchen counter, shirtless, eating pasta. That’s when Bucky realizes that Sandra is gone and that Sam probably saw her and then the whole mortifying situation comes crashing back to him full force.
“Hey,” Sam greets warmly, he looks a bit off though and Bucky dreads having to potentially tell him about what happened with Sandra. “I made dinner, I fixed you a bowl.”
Bucky nods appreciatively. “Thanks.”
He strolls casually over to retrieve the bowl and sits next to him and starts eating in silence. Not even a minute passes before Sam says, “So, I hear you’re a real jerk.”
Fuck. What did she say to him?
Bucky huffs, he tries to bury his embarrassment by shoving pasta into his mouth. But once he swallows he realizes there’s no real use in trying to hide, he can’t escape Sam. That’s his number one revelation of tonight. “Yeah, uh, turns out I’m really, really out of practice in dating.”
Sam chuckles. Bucky hates that he loves the sound. “You miss the 40’s huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he rebuttals. “I don’t miss the lack of clean water and I’m really loving Doordash. But I don’t think I’m made to be casual.”
That’s one excuse he can rely on. Making Sam believe she called him a jerk for some reason pertaining to that–sure. He’s blindly grasping at straws here. She could’ve told him everything, and he probably would have heard it if he wasn’t too busy blasting jazz in his earbuds to try and calm himself down. Another great thing that the 1940’s didn’t have, earbuds.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with her man, but hey, It’ll get better. You’ll get used to modern dating and you’ll meet someone you like in no time.” Sam says reassuringly. But Sam is the wrong person to tell him this, that he’ll meet someone and then he just has to keep trying with other people on these stupid apps or going to bars trying to pick up women with charm he used to have but lost over the years of being viciously tortured and manipulated mentally and physically. He doesn’t want that. He just wants Sam.
“Thank you.” Bucky says anyway. “And thanks again for dinner.”
He gets up to put his empty bowl (and Sam’s empty bowl) in the dishwasher, then starts heading to his bedroom to try and sleep off this whole awful situation, until Sam stops him.
“You heading to bed?”
Bucky turns around to face him. Wrong choice. Because he looks so damn angelic in the moonlight it’s sort of unfair. “Yeah, I don’t really have anything better to do anyways.”
Sam hums. “Do you want to watch a movie with me?”
Bucky should say no, he should be going to his room and avoiding Sam for the rest of his life until one of them eventually dies and all will be solved. Because there’s no way the feelings he has for Sam are going away.
But he is a fool, a fool easily manipulated by doe eyes and a soft smile.
Bucky bites his lip before giving in. “Sure.”
“Good,” he gets up from the kitchen counter and settles on the couch, watching intently as Bucky approaches him. “Oh and Bucky?”
He gives a head tilt as an answer.
“Grab me a beer, will you?”
- - - -
So one beer turns into 5, for Sam.
Bucky has a couple of beers too, but he can’t really get drunk, and trust him he’s definitely tried. The most he’s ever gotten was slightly tipsy and that was after consuming a LOT of alcohol, like way more than a normal person should have. But of course being a super soldier makes some things easier and other things more difficult, and makes him different from how a normal person is. It’s a bit alienating sometimes, but Bucky has learned to live with it.
Throughout the movie, Sam gets closer and closer to him the drunker and drunker he gets. It’s stupidly distracting, he doesn’t even know what the hell is going on during the movie. All he can focus on is acting like none of this is affecting him, how he can feel his warm skin against his own, how he’s sighing sweetly when he drops his head on his shoulders nonchalantly. At some point he slips his foot between Bucky legs.
That really gets a reaction out of him, especially because he’s very close to the area of him he’s most focused on not getting a reaction out of. “Hey!”
“What?” Sam says, like he’s all innocent. “I’m too warm, your freezing cold legs are like an ice pack.”
Bucky scoffs. “Gee thanks.”
“It’s nice.” He slurs a bit.
And yeah, Sam is really really warm, like a furnace. And it’s making him feel all types of things, domesticity, serenity, calmness, sleepiness. But also, the perverted part of him is front and center of his mind pretty quick and with his foot so close to his crotch, it gets pretty unbearable very quickly. Bucky is just glad Sam decided to put his shirt back on, because if he had to deal with him like this topped with him shirtless he’d think he’d burst a blood vessel. Bucky subtly shifts in place, praying to some higher entity that his foot does not accidentally graze against his growing erection.
Eventually Sam gets up to use the bathroom (inevitable after all those beers) and Bucky gets the opportunity to readjust himself–also hoping Sam doesn’t see him do it. Then when he comes back, just when Bucky thought it couldn’t get worse, he lays down and puts his head on Bucky’s thigh. And jesus, it’s like he knows and he’s fucking with him or something.
After the movie ends, Sam won’t let Bucky go. And yes, of course, Bucky likes spending time with Sam. A lot more than he’d like to admit, but it’s borderline impossible to be around Sam right now without doing something he’d regret.
Sam is talking Bucky’s ear off, talking about Sarah and how the boat is doing and he strives to listen and enjoy his company and maybe ween off the horniness his body apparently can’t get enough of. He’s smiling brightly and using hand gestures and giving Bucky light touches and it’s driving him insane. He’s so damn endearing.
And yeah, it sucks that Bucky can no longer get drunk and have fun and let loose like that anymore, but at least he gets to be sober to see Sam drunk. Because like this, all fluid and chattermouthed and unafraid of how he’s been perceived, is just a treat. It’s honestly making him fall harder for him.
That’s when it really hits Bucky, it’s more than just lust. He fucking loves him. Yeah, he loves him. He loves his smile, his laugh, his sense of humor, his generosity and kindness. His willingness to open up, how he can easily talk to anyone, his charisma. He loves how stubborn he can be, he loves how good he is with kids and how great of an uncle he is to Cass and AJ. He loves how intelligent and witty he is. He loves how their banter feels charged with a sort of old married couple energy. He loves how Sam just wants to talk to him, to make him feel better about that awful situation rather than rub it in his face, he loves that he asked to watch a movie with him just to cuddle with him and press himself against him. If Bucky was anyone else, he’d think Sam might feel the same too.
But he isn’t anyone else, he knows Bucky can’t be that person for Sam.
A weird sadness overtakes him, and Sam notices immediately. He loves that he notices immediately. “What’s wrong?”
He’s drunk, and he was all giddy and giggly a second ago and he’s looking at him set on finding out what’s hurting Bucky and how to fix him. He loves him. “It’s nothing.”
“Is it Sandra?” Sam asks. And, damn, she told him her name? Or did he tell Sam? Damn, maybe he is a bit tipsy. “Because if you want to talk about it…”
“-No that’s alright. I don’t know, maybe I’m just tired.” Bucky excuses, which definitely sounds like an excuse to leave and he dreads the response.
“Oh okay, you should go to bed then, sorry for keeping you up.” Sam sits up straight and almost sobers up immediately. “Goodnight.”
Bucky sighs, but this is what he wanted all along, right? An out? He starts to get up, but offers Sam a kind grin. “Goodnight Sam.”
He’s about to walk away, finally get some sleep or at least maybe listen to more 40’s jazz, Sam speaks up. Bucky is starting to get real deja vu. “Hey!”
He stops in his tracks.
“Um.” Sam drops his head, like he can’t believe what he’s about to say or ask. “I know this is way out of line, and forgive me because I’m still a bit intoxicated but…” Bucky swallows nervously. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why did Sandra call you a jerk? Like what uh…happened?”
Bucky goes still and quiet, his heart is racing at a million miles an hour and he’s just glad Sam isn’t the one with superhearing. How is he supposed to answer? He doesn’t want to lie, but he just can’t tell the truth.
“C’mon don’t be shy. Or embarrassed, I’ve definitely had my moments. You can tell me, I won’t be mean,” Sam promises. “Like I might laugh initially, but only because I laugh when I’m shocked, like how people laugh when they are nervous.”
He blows out a puff of air and sits back down on the couch, looking at Sam with this earnest look. So, he can’t lie now. He doesn’t even know what lie he can get away without coming off as an actual asshole. So maybe now is when the truth comes out, well it’s now or never, right? Plus, Sam is drunk, maybe he’ll forget in the morning? His heart is really hammering now.
“Basically, I called her the wrong name during…” Bucky feels like a child not being able to say sex but it all feels very TMI so he just lets the implication fill itself out there.
Sam doesn’t laugh, but his mouth gapes like he was just revealed a massive plot twist of his favorite show. “Wow. Oh my God, that is…wow that is bad I’m so sorry. That’s very unfortunate.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky agrees, his cheeks dusting a light pink already. “It was.”
He already knows what Sam is going to say next, and he’s hating every millisecond leading up to it. “What name did you say?”
He closes his eyes and tells himself that this isn’t real life, this is all a dream (or nightmare, he can’t tell yet) and he’ll wake up anyways so he should just say it. But man is it scary. He’s in love with this guy and he’s about to confess to him, under zero pressure at all, that he said his name during sex with someone else. Because he’s all he thinks about, and it’s basically impossible for him to think about anyone else. So forgive him if he’s feeling a bit unsure about the whole thing.
He inhales sharply before getting out: “Sam.”
“What?” he says, and for a second Bucky’s world comes crashing down on him, before he realizes he only said ‘what’ in response to his name being said. He doesn’t realize what Bucky meant by it yet. “Whose name did you say? You don’t have to tell me but I mean you might as well.”
“No–Sam. I-” he stammers. “I said ‘Sam’. I said your name. I said your fucking name.”
Then it hits him, his face goes a bit blank. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” he takes a big breath, because shit that was hard. “Oh.”
Sam is quiet for a bit and Bucky is terrified that he just ruined the one good friendship he had since Steve and he wants to pound his head into the wall repeatedly at the idea of what Sam might be thinking right now.
“That’s why Sandra looked at me like I killed her entire family when I introduced myself to her.”
Bucky groans in pure humiliation. “I can’t believe you guys talked.”
“She tried hitting on me.” Sam admitted. “I turned her down, obviously, that would be weird.”
Bucky laughs, ironic. “Yeah, ‘cause everything is so normal now.”
“What? The whole you saying my name during sex thing? Supeeer normal. I’ve had weirder things happen today.” Sam states playfully. “Like the fact that the girl you called my name tried to hit on me.”
“Okay so can we uh,” Bucky stops him from talking more because he’s getting pretty lightheaded from the whole conversation “Pretend this never happened? Please?”
Sam twists his mouth like he’s actually considering it, but ends up shrugging. “I vote no.”
Bucky groans again, this might be the most humiliated he’s ever felt and he’s played chess with Steve before. “Why? So you can tease me about it for the rest of my life?”
“No, because unless you said it out of reflex after all those times you yelled at me to close your door, I think it’s something worth talking about.” Sam says so simply that Bucky almost doesn’t compute it fully.
“What does that mean?” Bucky pushes, desperate for clarification.
Sam sighs, impatient and sick of Bucky’s obliviousness. Bucky can’t believe this is real life. “Bucky. Do you want me?”
He finds the question so funny because of how painfully obvious the answer is. Does Bucky want Sam? Is grass green? Is the sky blue? Jesus, it's all he thinks about sometimes, how much he wants him. Now Sam is staring at him with wide beautiful glimmering eyes and asking it like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like he’s asking him how his day was or what the time is. Bucky has never been so nervous, horny and high at the same time, his veins pumping with adrenaline.
Bucky doesn’t flinch this time when he gives in: “Yes.”
Sam doesn't waste any time before he leans close to Bucky, their faces inches apart, whispering: “Then do something about it.”
Bucky has never kissed someone faster.
Their lips finally attach and it’s like his entire body is set aflame. He can’t believe this is happening. It’s the most amazing thing, the feeling of Sam so close, closer than they’ve ever been and to finally taste him. He’s almost immediately addicted to how he tastes, he’s sweet as pure sugar and it makes him want to never stop chasing his lips. Makes Bucky almost melt into a puddle right there on their couch. Bucky slips his hand on the back of Sam’s neck to deepen the kiss and Sam gets with the program pretty fast as he moves in tandem, one of his hands burying itself in Bucky’s hair while the other holds his jaw as their lips move restlessly in each other's mouths. Bucky lets out a needy whiny little noise that’s borderline a whimper as Sam opens his mouth slightly to allow Bucky’s tongue to prod through. Sam hums happily when their tongues start mixing and Bucky’s persistent and stubborn problem is growing worse and worse by the second.
Bucky has to readjust himself again and he’s never felt lamer in his life. Sam nudges Bucky’s chest slightly and Bucky is so caught off guard that his back falls flat against the couch and he makes an embarrassing oof noise. Sam giggles slightly and Bucky doesn’t even care, just happy to make Sam laugh and still love drunk from the best kiss he thinks he’s ever had, just props himself up on his elbows to look at Sam some more. From this angle, he’s looming over like he has all the power in the world over Bucky. And he sort of does.
“Come here.” Bucky says and tries to make it suave and not at all like he’s begging, tilting his head forward.
Sam shakes his head, like he’s not budging now that he’s got him right where he wants him, completely under his control and at his disposal. “Just admiring the view.”
Bucky burns even warmer and uses his mechanical arm to hold himself up while the other one grabs Sam by the shirt to pull him down with him and into another heated and passionate kiss. This one gets filthy quicker though, instead of it starting soft and dripping all syrupy it’s raw unadulterated want, driven by the years of tension and mutual pining. Fuck, Bucky hopes Sam doesn’t just want sex. Not that he’d turn down the sex, he definitely wants to have sex with him. What was he thinking about again?
Sam snakes a hand down between them to teasingly palm Bucky and he’s so damn sensitive that he gasps into the kiss sharply and almost sees white. Then the gasp breaks into a crazy high-pitched moan and damn—Bucky wasn’t even aware he could make that noise.
“Man, you’re really wound up,” Sam comments after he breaks away from the kiss. “How long have you been hard?”
Bucky is being taken apart and totally wrecked by this entire thing that he’s not lying when he says, “Fuck, I don’t remember.”
Sam chuckles, not unkindly. “Wanna take it to the bedroom?”
Bucky nods rapidly. “Mine or yours?”
“Mine,” Sam answers. “Don’t need the reminder of Sandra being in your bed just hours ago to pop in my head.”
Bucky’s heart sinks at that. “Trust me, me neither.”
Before Sam can say anything else, Bucky’s hands go to both sides of his waist and carry him to Sam’s bedroom, as Sam’s legs wrap around Bucky for stabilization. When he finally lays him gently down on the bed, he climbs on top of Sam again and leans down to kiss his neck. He sucks and bites it until a mark eventually appears and repeats that action for a while. Sam is anything but quiet underneath him and it’s driving Bucky up the damn wall. He grinds his hips down onto Sam’s and they both moan in unison.
“For what it’s worth,” Bucky starts, finally unlatching from his neck to look into his eyes again, his heart actually skipping a beat. “It’s never not been you. I mean, you know that right? For fucks sake I said your name during sex.”
Sam snorts. “Are you sure it’s not ‘cause Sandra sounds like Sam?”
He rolls his eyes. “Sandra is two syllables and Sam is one.”
“Okay Mr. Linguist, you still went on a date and tried to fuck her.”
Bucky guffaws. “Don’t even Sam, you date and fuck people all the time!”
“All because you,” Sam rolls his hips up to emphasize his point, Bucky groans low in his throat. “Wouldn’t make a goddamned move.”
“Because I didn’t know how you felt, I was scared that I would ruin everything,” Bucky admits, a bit sheepish as he slightly tilts his head down. “And you could’ve made a move!”
“I did,” Sam counters. “When I asked if you wanted me, that was me making a move idiot. Plus, how was I supposed to know how you felt!”
“By opening your eyes and ears and just generally being a conscious person,” he refutes. “I’m crazy about you.” Bucky finds the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them, before he can reconsider the implications and how Sam might react.
But Sam just smiles, a sick sort of thing, and all the regret that Bucky could have had vanishes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Bucky affirms, sort of breathless from all this staring.
He pulls him down again into a bruising kiss before whispering: “Then show me.”
Bucky is never one to turn down a challenge, so he shows him. He slips his hands under Sam’s shirt and pulls it over his head, then kisses down his chest, biting and licking all over his collarbones and chest and abs. He does things to Sam’s naked top half so dirty that it would get him one free ticket to being banished from every church in a 100-mile radius. Sam is wiggling and writing under his attention, moaning and sighing and muttering little Bucky’s and it’s sort of the best thing ever.
Then, Bucky starts to shuck Sam’s pajama pants off and his mouth almost goes completely dry at the sight. The outline of his cock is firm and proud in his briefs and Bucky has never wanted something, someone more.
“Fuck Sam,” he murmurs. “You're goddamn beautiful everywhere.”
Sam’s hands come down to cradle Bucky’s head, pulling him up to kiss him chastely. Bucky gives him another kiss on the corner of his mouth, closing his eyes as he tries to focus on how good it feels to be so tenderly touched rather than his boner that hurts like hell from the lack of friction. So Bucky just kisses him on the cheeks, on his forehead, on the temple of his nose, then a cute butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose.
“What do you want, Bucky?” Sam asks, all sensual and gravely and damn it–his boner problem is back. “Do you want to fuck me?”
The noise that escapes Bucky is nothing short of needy, it’s aching and desperate and oozing with infatuation. “Yes. Yes, yes. More than anything, please.”
The begging just eggs Sam on more, a smug grin coating his gorgeous features. “Yeah? You wanna fuck me baby? Wanna scream my name while you split me open on your huge cock?”
Bucky doesn’t think he can take it anymore. “Please. Want it, need it. Been thinking about it for so long, how fucking hot you’d look underneath me, it’s already better than I’ve imagined. Let me, please let me fuck you.”
And Bucky is pathetic and he doesn’t think he’s ever sounded like this before but it’s definitely going to get him what he wants because Sam is all wide-eyed and wild. “Okay, okay. Wanna finger me open?”
Bucky just nods, he doesn’t think he can form any coherent words at the moment. He’s never been so turned on.
“Get the lube, it’s in the top drawer of the nightstand.” Sam orders. Bucky obeys, grabbing the bottle and unscrewing the cap with an urgency and efficiency that can only be learned from a former soldier. He coats his fingers with it and uses the other hand to finally slip off Sam’s briefs. Unable to help himself, he glances down momentarily at Sam’s unclothed bottom half and whines. Then he slowly slips one lubed up finger inside his hole.
Sam’s reaction is instant–a sharp moan that has him grabbing at Bucky’s hair for something to hold onto. His grip is tight and he tugs slightly as Bucky further shoves the finger in. Bucky moans too, loving the feeling of his hair being pulled and his imagination going bananas with how tight Sam feels around his finger, excitement running through his body as he remembers his dick is going to feel that around him soon. Eager, and sure that Sam is ready as he sees Sam nod and hears him mumbles ‘another’, he slips the second finger in. Sam croons with pleasure.
“Fuck sugar,” he goes. “See? So pretty. I knew it. I knew you’d be just as pretty being fucked on my fingers then when you’re sitting on the couch in those cute reading glasses or in that amazing uniform that hugs your ass so well.”
Sam laughs smally. “Wow, you’re such a romantic.”
“Not my fault your ass is so great that it makes every form fitting pair of pants ten times better by default,” he compliments. Then, because he’s impatient, he hooks his fingers to attempt to find his prostate. When Sam loudly curses, that’s when he knows he struck gold. “Seriously, I love your ass.”
“I know,” Sam’s out of breath, but still somehow aware enough to get a lick in. “That's why I wear those orange short shorts you love all the time.”
No way that Sam has been wearing those on purpose. How could Sam know that Bucky has been staring but still be unsure of his feelings towards him? They’re probably going to have to have a talk after this.
For now, Bucky just shakes his head. “Unbelievable. You’re a sick sick man.”
“Yeah yeah you still wanna fuck me though.” Sam utters with a cocky smirk and yes, Bucky very much still does.
He removes his fingers and Sam shudders with the loss. Bucky coats his aching and beyond leaking cock with lube and screws his eyes tight to try and not come from the two or three strokes it takes to get him prepped. Then, finally, he lines it up with Sam’s hole and looks into his eyes for reassurance. “Ready?”
He bobs his head before wrapping his legs around Bucky’s waist to prepare himself. “Yes.”
That sort of makes his brain short circuit for a moment, but soon enough he remembers he’s about to do what he’s been thinking about doing for so long he can’t even pinpoint the exact date. So he pushes in and it’s like every nerve in his body lights up all at once, the pleasure is all consuming and so addicting he’s almost terrified by it. “Fuck sweetheart, baby, fuck-”
“Keep going,” Sam tells him, his eyes are closed and he already looks fucked out. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop-”
“Wouldn’t dream of it darling, oh my-” he cuts himself off with a moan at the feeling of Sam around his cock, each inch slowly and slowly being engulfed by his warm walls. He keeps going until he’s finally all the way in. “Sam, Sam, Sam…”
He’s already loud, and Sam isn’t fairing much better. “Fuck me, fuck me Bucky.”
Bucky complies with a quick and powerful thrust, and he has to bite his knuckles to keep himself from screaming. He sort of does anyways. “Fuck!”
“More, please.” Sam breathes out, so polite that it sort of breaks his heart.
He gives him his all, pumping into him and not holding back. He braces both his arms on the bedframe and tries his darndest to focus his strength into fucking Sam and not breaking the damn bed because he’d feel really guilty if he broke Sam’s bed. Then he’d have to buy him a new one, and he doesn’t know if he can survive another Ikea trip.
The bed is squeaking from the force of their sex and it’s just turning Bucky on even more, he’s panting and groaning and Sam is making his sweet sex noises and it’s Bucky’s fault this time, he’s the one making him sound like that and it’s marvelous.
“Love those noises baby.” he praises. “So damn gorgeous. Fuck, I used to…used to jerk off to the sound of them. Now they are mine.”
If Sam was more coherent he’d probably tease him for that, but in his current state, he just moans at that. Bucky leans down to kiss him again because he missed kissing him, already missed his taste and the feel of his lips and if Sam wanted Bucky to fuck off and never do this again he doesn’t know how he’d survive. Now that he knows what it’s like to kiss Sam he never wants to stop.
The kiss turns to all mouth and tongue and panting as Bucky fucks him with increasingly fast bucks, already feeling so close to climax. He’s coming undone under Sam’s control, although he’s the one on top he feels himself being irrevocably taken apart by Sam–his mouth, his noises, the way he teases and rolls his hips to meet each of Bucky’s thrusts. He’s completely helpless to it, he’s going to have to devote his entire life to him now. And he’s more than okay with that.
“Sam, gonna come soon,” he warns. “Can I come in you? Huh beautiful?”
“Yes, fill me up Buck, come in me,” Sam answers, his voice all wrecked and it's so hot and so sexy that Bucky has to imprint it in his mind for later. “Want you coming with my name on your tongue. Want you to come saying my name.”
He groans, wow that does something to him to hear him say that, to hear a command so specific and tailored to their relationship. It’s so Sam and Bucky, he could cry. He’s flushed from the neck down. “Sam–”
“Yes, just like that,” Sam encourages, starting to jerk himself off a bit. Bucky quickly replaces Sam’s hand with his own, feeling left out and jealous and–yeah maybe Bucky is possessive, even of Sam’s damn hand. He’s never going to love another person ever again. “Say my name Bucky, just how you did before. I know you love it, my name, I know you probably jerk off and scream my name when I’m not here, so fill me up and yell my fucking name.”
And like it’s a goddamn switch, Bucky does just that. He explodes into Sam with heavy spurts, stuttering his hips with fervor, wailing his name, “Sam! Sam, Sam. Oh–shit, Sam…”
Sam follows shortly after, coming into Bucky’s hand with such a pretty moan that makes Bucky shiver. His face is even prettier, all slack mouthed and lashes curled around closed lids, if Bucky could frame it, he would.
They swim in the aftershocks, blissfully sighing as they catch their breaths. It’s amazing, Bucky hadn’t come that hard for so long, and judging on how winded Sam looked, he could assume the same for him. Bucky soon slips out of him and collapses next to Sam’s body and they just heave slowly together, basking in the afterglow. Bucky has never been so lucky to have a date fail so miserably.
“Wow.” Bucky gasps, after a solid minute. He turns to look at Sam and he’s still stupid gorgeous as he turns to look back with a bitten smile. “My baby, oh my lord.”
“Yeah? That’s what I am? Your baby?” Sam teases and Bucky’s face beats his mouth to the answer as he beams with the shine of a thousand suns.
“Please,” he mutters, taking Sam’s hand and places wispy kisses to his knuckles. “Let me make you mine and I’ll be yours. I’ll learn how to be good at 21st century dating.”
Sam laughs, light as air in the springtime. “I mean we already live together and we’ve been pretty much dating for the past couple of years everytime we hung out, the only difference would be is that we kiss and fuck now.”
“And hold hands,” he adds, suddenly feeling wholesome. Even with Sam’s come drying on his fingers. “And I’ll buy you flowers and buy you cute little romantic gifts and tell everyone who tries to flirt with me to fuck off and threaten anyone who tries to flirt with you and show you off to everyone I meet. Call you my boyfriend and refer to myself as your boyfriend.”
Sam grins so wide it looks like it hurts. “You sure you want all that with me?”
“Honey, If I’d want it with anyone, it’d be with you.” Bucky confesses. “Fuck yes I want it with you. I don’t want just sex, though don’t get me wrong, I definitely still want sex. Just not just that.”
He rolls his eyes lightheartedly and starts to sit up and crack his back slightly. “I’d call you a horny freak but I have to admit that if sex with you is always like that then count me in.”
“That good huh?” he props up his head on his hand to lean on his elbow and wriggles his eyebrows playfully.
Sam playfully hits him with his pillow. “Shut up man, don’t act like you weren’t practically drooling over me.”
“Oh yeah it was the best sex I’ve ever had.” he says completely deadpan.
“Bucky…”
“I’m serious!”
They both get into a fit of laughter and it feels so fluffy and domestic that Bucky’s heart soars with an endearingness that he almost doesn’t recognize. He hasn’t felt that way in such a long time and it’s nice.
“So…” Sam gazes down at him through his pretty eyelashes. “You want to be my boyfriend?”
He nods. “And I’d like you to be mine.”
“Alright.” Sam agrees and Bucky has never been happier. “But only because I know you’d never cheat, I mean most people are afraid of their partner saying the wrong name during sex, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.”
“Jesus, please can we never mention that situation ever again–”
“Like we weren’t ever together yet and you were off fucking other people saying it all willy-nilly.”
“Sam-”
“-In fact you physically can’t stop yourself from saying my name. I mean you are obsessed!”
He huffs, offended by his audacity. “Only ‘cause it turns you on.”
“Yeah but it turns you on too.”
Bucky can’t argue with that, it did turn him on. So he just flops back down on the bed, losing the fight once again.
“Also,” Sam starts, looming over Bucky’s splayed out, relaxed body. “Even though we are past that point–I’d like to be taken on a date.”
He definitely won’t fight that suggestion. “Done.”
“Where you dress up. Also I do like the idea of being bought flowers.” Sam ponders as he gets up from the bed to throw his discarded clothes in the hamper.
Bucky gets up to do the same. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Are you going to delete Tinder off your phone?” he asks with a non-serious tone but a funny eyebrow raise.
“It was Hinge–but yes.” Bucky complies, no complaints with doing that. “I’ll knock on your door around 8. This place I have in mind is hard to get into unless you know someone, luckily I do. And it’s worth it–I’m talking food that melts in your mouth as easily as butter.”
Sam hums at that. “Sounds nice. Are you coming to the shower?”
“Fuck yes,” he responds, maybe a little too eager. “I’ll grab the lotion.”
Sam laughs again and it’s one of his favorite sounds. Probably a good third on the list of Sam sounds.
He’s about to shower with the man he loves and it’s all still so surreal. He just hopes it’s not some long convoluted dream or another wet dream but with more plot this time. But he has a good feeling that this is real once Sam holds him that night after they all got the sex washed off them and it feels like the realest thing since he came back to life. If he had to say Sam’s name during his lousy attempt to get over him to end up with the most perfect man sleeping sounding next time him with their bodies entwined, then so be it.
For as long as Bucky can live and breathe, he’ll say Sam’s name for the rest of his life.