Tags: Modern AU, Get it Bucky, Beefy Bucky, Basically 3.5k of porn and .5k of feelings
Warnings: Brief discussion of bruises, scar mention, alcohol mention.
Sam had been sitting at the bar for nearly thirty minutes by the time the guy sat in the corner - broad shoulders, solid thighs, not-quite-stubble covering his lower jaw - finally worked up the courage to come over and slide into the seat next to him.
Sam smiled. "Took you long enough."
"What can I say?" the guy shrugged. "View was pretty good from back there." He smirked, like he knew that Sam had been flexing on purpose, which, okay: guilty as charged.
"And what about up close?" Sam asked, leaning in to speak over the noise around them, close enough to bump their knees together. Beneath the thick warmth of the bar and the people packed in around them, there was a different note in the air: damn, the guy smelled good.
The guy pulled back enough to give Sam a long surveying look, the kind that had heat pooling in his belly, before getting in close again, the tip of his boot brushing against Sam's ankle.
"I'd say it's pretty damn fine," he murmured, voice low, and then his face cracked and he laughed, a little ruefully, sitting back and scrubbing a hand over his face and settling forward again, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. "Sorry, I -- it's been a while; I'm not very good at this."
"I'd say you're doing pretty well so far," Sam encouraged. "No complaints from me," he added, at the disbelieving look on the guy's face.
"So I should keep going?"
Sam nodded, unable to help the teasing grin from spreading across his face. He made a short motion with his hand: "Please."
"Buy you a drink?" asked the guy.
"Sure," Sam replied, watching the flex of muscle in the guy's shoulders, visible beneath his shirt, as he leaned forward and gestured to the barman. A few moments later, their drinks slid across the bar.
"I'm James," the guy said, reaching out and nudging the drink towards Sam, the warm brush of their fingers in sharp contrast to the coolness of the glass.
"Nice to meet you, James," said Sam. He slowly ran a finger up the side of his glass, catching a drip of condensation. "I'm Sam."
+++
Things were going well. Sure, Sam was in a new city, but the rhythm of this was, at least, familiar: the casual eye-contact across the room, the introduction, the drink (now drinks), the easy flirtation. It was comforting, almost, to find that this hadn't changed, that it still came easy -- or at least, that's what he’d thought, up until the final beat, when he’d asked:
"So -- you want to get out of here?"
James looked down at his drink, curling his fingers around the half-empty glass, and gave Sam a tight smile, and Sam felt it like a punch to the chest, because damn. He’d been so sure. But you didn’t have a job like Sam’s without learning to roll with the punches, so he put his game face on, preparing to brush it off, except that James’s hand came up and rested lightly on his wrist: wait.
"I don't -- do this much," James started, brow furrowed as he stared into his glass. After a few moments he looked up and caught the look on Sam's face, and continued quickly on, "but: I'd like to. Do this," he clarified, reaching out and tentatively putting a hand on Sam's knee, slow enough to give Sam time to pull away. He didn't.
“Okay,” Sam said, beginning to smile. “I can work with that.”
+++
Whatever hesitance James had had before seemed to have faded during their walk over, because before they’d even made it inside Sam’s building he leaned in and kissed Sam, chaste at first, but quickly becoming wet and dirty once Sam pulled them both inside and pinned James up against the wall.
It took them a while, but they managed to make it up to Sam’s apartment eventually, both flushed, their clothes a mess, James’s mouth looking swollen and kiss-bruised. As Sam fumbled for his key he had the sudden thought of what Mrs. Weinstein across the hall might say if she saw them like this, and he let out a burst of blurry laughter that quickly quietened into a low moan when James got up close behind him and slid a hand down Sam’s front, running a teasing finger down the front of the zipper on his jeans, where his dick was straining against it.
It took Sam a few tries to actually get the key into the door, impeded partly by the warm haze of alcohol, partly by the delicious scrape of teeth as James got in close and nibbled at his ear but mostly just because he hadn't lived here long enough to get the muscle memory of it yet, a fact which quickly became apparent when they got inside and picked up where they left off, kissing fiercely and stripping the other's clothes off in the dark -- or trying to, anyway, since they kept bumping into what felt like every single piece of furniture Sam owned.
"Fuck it," Sam gasped a little breathlessly, reaching over behind James and fumbling for the lightswitch, after the fourth muffled "ow" James laughed into his shoulder.
Now that the light was on Sam took a few seconds to get his bearings before turning back to James -- and stopping short, because the guy had a huge, dark bruise on his left shoulder - vibrant against his pale skin, like he’d taken a bad hit from something heavy.
“Damn, you should get some ice on that,” Sam said, concerned. He brushed his hand over it, palpating where the bruising was darkest. James yelped.
“Shit -- sorry,” Sam said, stepping back and remembering that there was a time and a place for patient assessment, and this wasn’t it.
James rubbed at his shoulder. “You a doctor or something?”
“Something like that,” Sam replied, flicking the light off again - he’d oriented himself now. He leaned in and brushed his mouth over the edge of the bruise in apology for poking it. An apology that was accepted, judging by the way James ducked his head and captured his mouth in a kiss that started gentle but didn’t stay that way for very long.
“How’d it happen?” Sam said a few minutes later, when they came up for air.
"Perks of the job." James mouthed at Sam's jaw, hands going to Sam's waist and unfastening his belt.
The rasp of the zipper - moving what felt like a millimetre at a time; James was a goddamn tease - combined with the pressure of James's hand made Sam's breath hitch. "What are you -- some kind of -- ultimate fighter?"
James dropped to his knees before easing Sam's jeans down his thighs, just enough for him to lean in and press his mouth to Sam's cloth-covered dick, feeling it twitch beneath his tongue.
"Something like that," he said, smirking, before pulling away a little and looking up through his eyelashes. "This okay?"
"No complaints from me," Sam repeated, the same way he had before, though this time the teasing tone was somewhat undercut by the shakiness of his voice as he looked down at James, at his broad solid shoulders and his red wet mouth as he licked his lips. Sam felt his dick twitch again; Christ, he could come just from the view.
"So I should keep going?" James murmured as he leaned in again, flicking his tongue against the puckered scar on Sam's belly - thankfully, without asking what it was from - before nosing at the line of hair leading down into Sam' boxers.
Sam slid his hand down on to James' uninjured shoulder, relishing in the feel of smooth muscle rippling beneath his fingers.
"Please," he said, groaning aloud when James finally relented; he pulled Sam's boxers out of the way and wrapped warm fingers around his dick, pinning it to his belly. James leaned in and licked a slow stripe up the length, starting at Sam's balls and ending with a gentle suck at the very tip, drawing it into his mouth a little at a time before pulling back and dragging the flat of his tongue over the head, lapping up the beads of precome as he started to pump his hand.
James seemed hesitant to get the whole thing in his mouth, and his coordination was a little off; not that it mattered, because what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm, and there was something about the feeling of his tongue flicking between his fingers that was so deliciously filthy that it felt like no time at all before Sam's balls were drawing tight. With a slight pressure of his hand on James’s shoulder, Sam pulled back with a panted, "Fuck -- fuck, hold on," the respite allowing him to ease back from the edge he'd been teetering on.
"Okay?" James said, wiping his slick mouth. Sam glanced down at him and realised he wasn't as far from the edge as he'd thought as another surge of heat zinged up his spine; if James had looked good before, that was nothing compared to now.
Sam reached down and pulled James to his feet. He sighed at the feeling of all that warm skin pressed up against his own and the rough scratch of James’s chest hair against his nipples as he got a hand around James's shoulders and pulled him in for an enthusiastic kiss. "'Okay?' he asks,” Sam mimicked. “Yeah, that was pretty damn okay." He thrust his hips a little, groaning at the friction of James' clothed erection dragging against his own. "Bed?"
"Sure," James said, and then "Can I?", his hands sliding down to Sam's ass, his thighs.
"If you can--" Sam started, teasing; but this night had been full of surprises, so it was with only a small amount of shock that he felt himself being picked up, instinctively wrapping his legs around James' waist as James lifted him bodily, adjusted to the weight and then started walking towards the bedroom, mouthing at Sam's jaw the entire time.
The pause as James's knees hit the edge of the mattress was the only warning Sam had before James leaned down and lowered him carefully down on to the bed. The display of strength sent another surge of heat through Sam, all the way to the tip of his dick, where another blurt of pre-come spilled out, drooling over his fingers when he reached down and closed his fingers around the head and pumped slowly.
James groaned a little at the sight, getting on to the bed and knee-walking until he was straddling Sam, breath hitching when Sam's knuckles brushed against his fabric-covered balls. "Fuck, you're so," James started, voice cut off by a breathy moan when Sam sat up and flicked a thumb over his nipple, the noise turning more high-pitched when Sam pressed at it with the flat of his thumb before leaning in and dragging his tongue over the other one. James's hips jerked, rubbing the very tip of his clothed erection against the flat of Sam's belly; so Sam got mean about it, scraping his teeth over James's nipple and sucking it into his mouth before licking across James's chest and laving at the other one, revelling in the wrecked noises James was beginning to make.
"I'm going to -- come if you keep doing that," James panted, groaning again when Sam bit gently at the underside of his pec. "You got condoms?"
"Yeah, yeah," Sam mouthed against flushed skin, then flicked his tongue soothingly over where he'd just bitten and pulled back. He nodded towards the nightstand, out of his reach with James pinning him like this.
James reached over into the drawer, making a breathless noise of pleasure that turned into a laugh as he fumbled for the lube, because Sam was currently taking the opportunity to pull James's boxers down enough to brush his thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there.
By the time he had lube and condom in hand, James was wild-eyed, trying not to buck into Sam’s hand. He pulled back enough to get his boxers all the way off before settling back in Sam’s lap, knees on either side of Sam’s waist.
“Want me to,” Sam glanced at the lube.
James shook his head, “I got it.”
“Okay,” Sam said easily, sitting back against the headboard to watch.
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timeasmymeasure
Rise Up (1/2)
Date: 2016-01-14 03:16 pm (UTC)Fandom: Captain America (Movies)
Characters: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Modern AU, Get it Bucky, Beefy Bucky, Basically 3.5k of porn and .5k of feelings
Warnings: Brief discussion of bruises, scar mention, alcohol mention.
Sam had been sitting at the bar for nearly thirty minutes by the time the guy sat in the corner - broad shoulders, solid thighs, not-quite-stubble covering his lower jaw - finally worked up the courage to come over and slide into the seat next to him.
Sam smiled. "Took you long enough."
"What can I say?" the guy shrugged. "View was pretty good from back there." He smirked, like he knew that Sam had been flexing on purpose, which, okay: guilty as charged.
"And what about up close?" Sam asked, leaning in to speak over the noise around them, close enough to bump their knees together. Beneath the thick warmth of the bar and the people packed in around them, there was a different note in the air: damn, the guy smelled good.
The guy pulled back enough to give Sam a long surveying look, the kind that had heat pooling in his belly, before getting in close again, the tip of his boot brushing against Sam's ankle.
"I'd say it's pretty damn fine," he murmured, voice low, and then his face cracked and he laughed, a little ruefully, sitting back and scrubbing a hand over his face and settling forward again, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. "Sorry, I -- it's been a while; I'm not very good at this."
"I'd say you're doing pretty well so far," Sam encouraged. "No complaints from me," he added, at the disbelieving look on the guy's face.
"So I should keep going?"
Sam nodded, unable to help the teasing grin from spreading across his face. He made a short motion with his hand: "Please."
"Buy you a drink?" asked the guy.
"Sure," Sam replied, watching the flex of muscle in the guy's shoulders, visible beneath his shirt, as he leaned forward and gestured to the barman. A few moments later, their drinks slid across the bar.
"I'm James," the guy said, reaching out and nudging the drink towards Sam, the warm brush of their fingers in sharp contrast to the coolness of the glass.
"Nice to meet you, James," said Sam. He slowly ran a finger up the side of his glass, catching a drip of condensation. "I'm Sam."
+++
Things were going well. Sure, Sam was in a new city, but the rhythm of this was, at least, familiar: the casual eye-contact across the room, the introduction, the drink (now drinks), the easy flirtation. It was comforting, almost, to find that this hadn't changed, that it still came easy -- or at least, that's what he’d thought, up until the final beat, when he’d asked:
"So -- you want to get out of here?"
James looked down at his drink, curling his fingers around the half-empty glass, and gave Sam a tight smile, and Sam felt it like a punch to the chest, because damn. He’d been so sure. But you didn’t have a job like Sam’s without learning to roll with the punches, so he put his game face on, preparing to brush it off, except that James’s hand came up and rested lightly on his wrist: wait.
"I don't -- do this much," James started, brow furrowed as he stared into his glass. After a few moments he looked up and caught the look on Sam's face, and continued quickly on, "but: I'd like to. Do this," he clarified, reaching out and tentatively putting a hand on Sam's knee, slow enough to give Sam time to pull away. He didn't.
“Okay,” Sam said, beginning to smile. “I can work with that.”
+++
Whatever hesitance James had had before seemed to have faded during their walk over, because before they’d even made it inside Sam’s building he leaned in and kissed Sam, chaste at first, but quickly becoming wet and dirty once Sam pulled them both inside and pinned James up against the wall.
It took them a while, but they managed to make it up to Sam’s apartment eventually, both flushed, their clothes a mess, James’s mouth looking swollen and kiss-bruised. As Sam fumbled for his key he had the sudden thought of what Mrs. Weinstein across the hall might say if she saw them like this, and he let out a burst of blurry laughter that quickly quietened into a low moan when James got up close behind him and slid a hand down Sam’s front, running a teasing finger down the front of the zipper on his jeans, where his dick was straining against it.
It took Sam a few tries to actually get the key into the door, impeded partly by the warm haze of alcohol, partly by the delicious scrape of teeth as James got in close and nibbled at his ear but mostly just because he hadn't lived here long enough to get the muscle memory of it yet, a fact which quickly became apparent when they got inside and picked up where they left off, kissing fiercely and stripping the other's clothes off in the dark -- or trying to, anyway, since they kept bumping into what felt like every single piece of furniture Sam owned.
"Fuck it," Sam gasped a little breathlessly, reaching over behind James and fumbling for the lightswitch, after the fourth muffled "ow" James laughed into his shoulder.
Now that the light was on Sam took a few seconds to get his bearings before turning back to James -- and stopping short, because the guy had a huge, dark bruise on his left shoulder - vibrant against his pale skin, like he’d taken a bad hit from something heavy.
“Damn, you should get some ice on that,” Sam said, concerned. He brushed his hand over it, palpating where the bruising was darkest. James yelped.
“Shit -- sorry,” Sam said, stepping back and remembering that there was a time and a place for patient assessment, and this wasn’t it.
James rubbed at his shoulder. “You a doctor or something?”
“Something like that,” Sam replied, flicking the light off again - he’d oriented himself now. He leaned in and brushed his mouth over the edge of the bruise in apology for poking it. An apology that was accepted, judging by the way James ducked his head and captured his mouth in a kiss that started gentle but didn’t stay that way for very long.
“How’d it happen?” Sam said a few minutes later, when they came up for air.
"Perks of the job." James mouthed at Sam's jaw, hands going to Sam's waist and unfastening his belt.
The rasp of the zipper - moving what felt like a millimetre at a time; James was a goddamn tease - combined with the pressure of James's hand made Sam's breath hitch. "What are you -- some kind of -- ultimate fighter?"
James dropped to his knees before easing Sam's jeans down his thighs, just enough for him to lean in and press his mouth to Sam's cloth-covered dick, feeling it twitch beneath his tongue.
"Something like that," he said, smirking, before pulling away a little and looking up through his eyelashes. "This okay?"
"No complaints from me," Sam repeated, the same way he had before, though this time the teasing tone was somewhat undercut by the shakiness of his voice as he looked down at James, at his broad solid shoulders and his red wet mouth as he licked his lips. Sam felt his dick twitch again; Christ, he could come just from the view.
"So I should keep going?" James murmured as he leaned in again, flicking his tongue against the puckered scar on Sam's belly - thankfully, without asking what it was from - before nosing at the line of hair leading down into Sam' boxers.
Sam slid his hand down on to James' uninjured shoulder, relishing in the feel of smooth muscle rippling beneath his fingers.
"Please," he said, groaning aloud when James finally relented; he pulled Sam's boxers out of the way and wrapped warm fingers around his dick, pinning it to his belly. James leaned in and licked a slow stripe up the length, starting at Sam's balls and ending with a gentle suck at the very tip, drawing it into his mouth a little at a time before pulling back and dragging the flat of his tongue over the head, lapping up the beads of precome as he started to pump his hand.
James seemed hesitant to get the whole thing in his mouth, and his coordination was a little off; not that it mattered, because what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm, and there was something about the feeling of his tongue flicking between his fingers that was so deliciously filthy that it felt like no time at all before Sam's balls were drawing tight. With a slight pressure of his hand on James’s shoulder, Sam pulled back with a panted, "Fuck -- fuck, hold on," the respite allowing him to ease back from the edge he'd been teetering on.
"Okay?" James said, wiping his slick mouth. Sam glanced down at him and realised he wasn't as far from the edge as he'd thought as another surge of heat zinged up his spine; if James had looked good before, that was nothing compared to now.
Sam reached down and pulled James to his feet. He sighed at the feeling of all that warm skin pressed up against his own and the rough scratch of James’s chest hair against his nipples as he got a hand around James's shoulders and pulled him in for an enthusiastic kiss. "'Okay?' he asks,” Sam mimicked. “Yeah, that was pretty damn okay." He thrust his hips a little, groaning at the friction of James' clothed erection dragging against his own. "Bed?"
"Sure," James said, and then "Can I?", his hands sliding down to Sam's ass, his thighs.
"If you can--" Sam started, teasing; but this night had been full of surprises, so it was with only a small amount of shock that he felt himself being picked up, instinctively wrapping his legs around James' waist as James lifted him bodily, adjusted to the weight and then started walking towards the bedroom, mouthing at Sam's jaw the entire time.
The pause as James's knees hit the edge of the mattress was the only warning Sam had before James leaned down and lowered him carefully down on to the bed. The display of strength sent another surge of heat through Sam, all the way to the tip of his dick, where another blurt of pre-come spilled out, drooling over his fingers when he reached down and closed his fingers around the head and pumped slowly.
James groaned a little at the sight, getting on to the bed and knee-walking until he was straddling Sam, breath hitching when Sam's knuckles brushed against his fabric-covered balls. "Fuck, you're so," James started, voice cut off by a breathy moan when Sam sat up and flicked a thumb over his nipple, the noise turning more high-pitched when Sam pressed at it with the flat of his thumb before leaning in and dragging his tongue over the other one. James's hips jerked, rubbing the very tip of his clothed erection against the flat of Sam's belly; so Sam got mean about it, scraping his teeth over James's nipple and sucking it into his mouth before licking across James's chest and laving at the other one, revelling in the wrecked noises James was beginning to make.
"I'm going to -- come if you keep doing that," James panted, groaning again when Sam bit gently at the underside of his pec. "You got condoms?"
"Yeah, yeah," Sam mouthed against flushed skin, then flicked his tongue soothingly over where he'd just bitten and pulled back. He nodded towards the nightstand, out of his reach with James pinning him like this.
James reached over into the drawer, making a breathless noise of pleasure that turned into a laugh as he fumbled for the lube, because Sam was currently taking the opportunity to pull James's boxers down enough to brush his thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there.
By the time he had lube and condom in hand, James was wild-eyed, trying not to buck into Sam’s hand. He pulled back enough to get his boxers all the way off before settling back in Sam’s lap, knees on either side of Sam’s waist.
“Want me to,” Sam glanced at the lube.
James shook his head, “I got it.”
“Okay,” Sam said easily, sitting back against the headboard to watch.