Chapter Text
Bucky awakes the next morning to the very first glint of sunlight that dares to grace his closed eyelids. Once a soldier, always a soldier. Sleeping in late, especially with his face towards the rising sun, is just not possible for him anymore; hasn’t been since at least 1936.
Fortunately, his mornings in 2025 look a lot different than his mornings in 1936.
Then, he’d wake up somewhere cold, dark, and wet. Somewhere depressing and filthy, far away from his family because he’d already been drafted by then. His eyes would snap open like they did every morning, jarred awake by the sounds of an active warzone, body tense and jaw aching from grinding his teeth all night. The food was awful, the water tasted dirtier, and people tried to smell the best they could, which wasn’t great.
Now, he gets to wake up to the reassuring sound of Sam’s deep, even breaths. The smell of Sam’s skin, the cocoa butter scent of his lotion that he applies before bed. The feeling of Sam’s body cradled in his arms, or spooned up behind him, or just safely cuddled up on the other side of the bed not even a full foot away. The sight of Sam’s beautiful face, slack and peaceful with sleep. The absence of a wrinkle between Sam’s brows, the slight downturn of his plump bottom lip. Every piece of it comes together, every morning, to remind Bucky how lucky he is.
Today he awakes laying on his back, right arm wrapped snugly around Sam’s body and right hand conveniently cradling half of Sam’s ass. Sam’s head is laying on one of Bucky’s pecs while his hand rests limply on the other. Bucky smiles softly and takes that hand in his own, tangling their fingers together and pressing featherlight kisses to Sam's knuckles. Craning his neck to glance at the clock above the front door, Bucky sees that it’s nearing 8:00. Sam should be awake any minute now, if Bucky knows his husband - which he does.
If they weren’t on vacation, Sam would already be out of bed and on his morning run around the neighborhood, maybe even halfway home with some breakfast sandwiches and a tray of coffees. Bucky would be lounging on the living room couch, waiting patiently for Sam to tap on the front door so that he can let him inside without Sam having to fumble for his keys. Breakfasts would be consumed in sleepy, amicable silence at their little kitchen table before leaving for work.
When you’ve lost and found each other as many times as Sam and Bucky have, it brings comfort and security to be a little extra clingy in your routines and spend most of your waking moments together.
As it stands, they are on vacation. Not just a vacation, but a honeymoon. Bucky’s no expert in romance - hell, his last real paramour before Sam had been literally decades prior - but he’s pretty sure honeymoons are generally understood to be the sexiest of vacations.
With that in mind, he crawls over top of Sam’s sleeping body to start pressing soft kisses to his face and chest. Sam had given him blanket permission to play with him while he slept months ago, so this position is familiar. Permission went both ways, and Sam regularly sucked Bucky awake in the mornings, sometimes even waking him up just by rubbing the head of Bucky’s dick against his lubed hole.
Let it be known that Sam Wilson is a minx, a tease, and a vixen, and Bucky Barnes lives to keep up with him.
Sam shows no signs of waking now, though goosebumps appear on his upper chest when Bucky blows gently on his nipples.
He braces himself on the bed with both arms and crawls backwards, stopping when he reaches Sam’s cock. He’s soft this morning - probably won’t have morning wood today because of the three orgasms he had had yesterday, Bucky reasons - but Bucky gently arranges his dick until it’s laying on Sam’s stomach, the tip directed towards Sam’s face.
Bucky holds the head in place with his metal hand, stroking lightly with his thumb. It twitches a bit in response, but Sam continues sleeping. He uses his other hand to scoot Sam’s legs together a little more, and tugs Sam’s balls up to rest on his thighs so that every inch of his cock is exposed for Bucky to lick and suck.
Now, he leans down to lick a slow stripe from Sam’s balls to the head of his dick. Sam shivers in his sleep and Bucky feels the cock beneath his lips harden slightly. He pulls back to lick another stripe, following the same path. His tongue glides even easier now, aided by the thin trail of spit he left behind first. The third lick is even smoother, and soon he’s licking the entire length of Sam’s dick over and over again, ending each trail with a wiggle of his tongue against the sensitive frenulum on the underside.
Eventually, Sam’s brain can no longer ignore the warmth and wetness of Bucky’s mouth. He wakes up trembling, senses immediately honing in on his hole clenching and unclenching eagerly, as if his body was greedy for Bucky even while sleeping. Confused, he moans without understanding why, stomach muscles jumping as he shakily looks down to make eye contact with Bucky.
“Fuck,” he says eloquently. “Good morning. Um. Oh my God.” Bucky laughs, sucking the tip of Sam’s dick into his mouth and fluttering the tip of his tongue. He lets Sam’s cock fall sloppily out of his mouth and the sound it makes slapping Sam’s stomach is like a gunshot in the otherwise silent room.
“Morning honey,” Bucky says, voice rough. “You wanna shower and go get breakfast?”
Sam props himself up on his elbows as Bucky moves up the bed to straddle him. He cranes his neck back, puckering his lips in an obvious demand for a kiss that Bucky grants happily. “Mmm, only if you’re in the shower with me.”
Bucky pulls back and stares at him, suddenly serious. “You don’t know?”
Sam is confused. “Know what?”
The deadpan stare morphs into a mischievous grin before Sam’s eyes. “You don’t know that you’re not taking a single unsupervised shower while we’re staying in this hotel? I thought I told you.”
Sam flushes, biting his lip through a smile. He should have known Bucky would say some corny shit like that, even first thing in the morning. “Oh, really?”
“Really.” He kisses Sam again, only keeping his tongue in his own mouth because he knows Sam hates morning breath. “This is an unfamiliar location. You’re Captain America. I can’t possibly leave America’s greatest treasure vulnerable, now can I?”
Sam rolls his eyes, head flopping back on the pillows.
“Also,” Bucky continues, “it’s just the right thing to do. As your husband, I mean. It’s a husbandly duty that I’m eager to-” Sam smacks him in the face with a pillow, laughing all the same.
“You’re a loser, man,” he says affectionately. “Go get the water warmed up.”
Bucky jumps out of bed, giving Sam a mocking salute. His cock is slightly hard, which sort of ruins the image (or maybe enhances it). “Sir, yes, sir.”
Sam can only stand to wait a few seconds before following Bucky to the bathroom, immediately placing himself under the waterfall stream of hot water and yanking Bucky to stand behind him. Bucky just laughs, obediently wrapping both arms around Sam’s abdomen and ducking his own head around Sam’s shoulder to wet his hair.
“They have these tiny bomb things,” Bucky murmurs. Sam opens his eyes, not even realizing they had closed.
“Mmm?” he hums.
“These.” Bucky reaches for a basket of small, chalky-looking spheres on one of the built-in shelves. “I read the package on the bathroom counter. You put them on the floor while the water’s running and then they, uh… steam up, I guess. Like one of your bath bombs, but for the shower.”
Sam smiles, picking up one of the light purple spheres and sniffing it. “You like lavender?”
Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Fuck no.”
Sam laughs, “Same, reminds me of my grandma’s perfume.” He swaps it for an orange one, which aptly smells of citrus fruits. “This one?”
His husband closes his eyes and inhales deeply, as though his opinion on the scent of this shower steamer could alter the trajectory of their reality. When he seems to have made his decision, he opens his eyes and nods seriously. “That one.”
Sam tosses it towards the drain, the sphere beginning to slowly dissolve and emit a light steam from the water. The scent of lemons and oranges fills the shower as they take turns scrubbing each other down, Bucky making a point to massage a moisturizing body wash into the globes of Sam’s ass for much longer than necessary.
When Bucky lowers himself to the ground to eat his ass a few minutes later, Sam really can’t say he’s surprised.
Sam is pretty accustomed to Bucky’s super strength at this point. He’s watched Bucky lift thousands of pounds with his own two hands enough times that it no longer stops him in his tracks.
Now that Sam is used to it, it’s a little cute to observe normal people witnessing the power of Bucky’s serum-fueled muscles in action. Even some of the supposed “super” villains that they’ve fought together had been visibly astounded at the realization that Bucky could lift a car and toss it over their heads if he really put in maximum effort.
Sam has also witnessed dozens, maybe hundreds of women - and almost as many men - of all ages admiring Bucky’s strength, his own goddamn sister included. Every time they go back down to Delacroix, the whole town stares at Bucky with hearts in their eyes. Even the oldest of old-timers get a glazed-over look in their eyes when they watch Bucky effortlessly carry stuff around that usually requires a 60,000-pound crane.
That’s not to say that Sam is entirely unaffected.
Like, right now, for example. Right now, Sam is feeling very, very affected by his husband’s super strength.
“Good, baby?” Bucky murmurs, slowing his strokes slightly. Sam nods rapidly, tapping Bucky’s ass with his ankles to encourage him to speed back up. “Perfect,” Sam breathes in response.
Sam is aware that he’s a big guy. Not as big as Bucky, but he still stands at 5’10” and weighs almost 200 pounds of (mostly) muscle. He’s always been a bottom, as long as he’s known that he was gay at least, but he’s never had any expectation for a sexual partner to be able to lift him up and fuck him in midair like a… like a toy.
Bucky, of course, exceeds any and all expectations.
Bucky is standing about two feet from the bed, giving Sam the fuck of his life. He’s holding Sam in his arms, both hands gripping Sam’s ass as his cock thrusts into him. Bucky seems to be hardly even exerting himself as he repeatedly lifts and drops Sam’s body in sharp, controlled thrusts. Every push of Bucky’s hips sends a resulting jolt of pleasure to Sam’s prostate that has his cock drooling precum and his vision going blurry.
This is a position Sam had only ever seen in porn, and very rarely in gay porn unless the guy bottoming was particularly small. The sensation of being held up and fucked like this was unlike anything Sam had experienced before; Bucky was basically supporting every single ounce of Sam’s body weight with just his two arms and his cock.
Just twenty minutes ago, they were leaving one of the many cafes located in the hotel lobby after a delicious breakfast of waffles, bacon, eggs, and dark roast coffee brewed from locally-grown beans. The second the elevator doors were completely shut, Bucky had lifted Sam up and pressed him to the wall, the younger man yelping in shock even as he instinctively wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky enjoyed using his strength to impress Sam, because he knew it impressed him, even if he was loath to admit it without Bucky’s cock in his ass.
“Buck!” he had spluttered. Bucky had just grinned mischievously and replied, “Bet I could fuck you like this,” before leaning in to give him a kiss.
And once you plant an idea in Sam’s head, it’s not going away.
“F-fuck,” Sam pants now, distantly worried that he’ll start drooling if he isn’t careful. “Fuck, baby.”
“You’re fucking perfect,” Bucky says, his voice gravelly. “Every inch of you, doll. God damn.”
He bends his knees the slightest bit, pulling Sam just the tiniest bit closer to Bucky at the point where their bodies are connected. He carefully slides his hands up Sam’s body to grip him around his waist, instantly changing the force of his thrusts. Sam’s head lolls backwards, almost going limp with arousal.
His waist isn’t tiny or feminine by any means, but Bucky’s huge fucking hands gripping him at the slimmest part of his torso is making him feel delicate.
Sam struggles to string a sentence together as Bucky continues his relentless pursuit to make Sam come untouched, practically in midair. He can see his toes twitching wildly in his peripheral vision, and he realizes he has very little control over his body as this new angle is stroking his insides exactly right.
“Come on, baby,” Bucky is muttering. “Come on my cock, babe. Need to feel it. Fuck.”
Sam groans, tightening his arms around Bucky’s neck to bring their faces closer together. It hits him suddenly that there are tears streaming down his face, and the moment he realizes he’s crying he lets out a guttural sob as his back arches violently, his orgasm barreling through him like a freight train. His cock does its best to jerk upwards with every spray of cum, but it’s pressed too tightly between their stomachs for any of the cum to land above their chins.
Bucky holds Sam’s body close to him as he orgasms, locking them tightly together and supporting him with one hand on his ass and the other wrapped around Sam’s back. As Sam comes down, still gasping for breath as his body continues to twitch with aftershocks, he notices that Bucky’s legs are starting to shake now that he’s standing still.
“Bed,” he pants, not moving his face from its spot pressed to Bucky’s throat. Bucky nods, wobbling forward a few steps to set Sam down on the bed. His cock slips out in the process, causing Sam to gasp and squirm at the feeling.
Sam scoots back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. Bucky still hadn’t finished, but he hadn’t said a word.
Sam peeks out from underneath his arm to see Bucky still standing at the edge of the bed, stroking himself as his eyes roam greedily from the top of Sam’s head to tips of Sam’s toes. Sam spreads his legs and hooks his arms underneath his own thighs, exposing all of Bucky’s favorite parts to his hungry gaze.
“Get back inside, you’re not done yet.” Sam smirks. Bucky looks down at him reverently, wondering what he did in a past life to be rewarded so greatly in his current one.
He reaches for Sam’s ass with his left arm, tugging gently at his rim with a vibranium thumb to make sure he was still good to go. Sam exhales through his nose excitedly when Bucky proceeds to yank his body to the very end of the bed, his thumb still lewdly holding Sam open. His arousal only continues to skyrocket when Bucky presses the first few inches of his cock into Sam’s loosened ass without removing his thumb.
“Look at that,” Bucky murmurs. His dick twitches inside of Sam, tapping his prostate and pulling a gasp from his lips. “Look how open you are for me, baby. This is for me, right?” His voice is syrupy sweet, a touch condescending. It slaps Sam right in all the horniest parts of his brain, turning his muscles to mush. He nods wildly, drunkenly, relieved that Bucky isn’t forcing him to verbally respond because Bucky pushes the rest of his cock into Sam’s ass at that moment, wiggling his thumb where it sits just underneath his dick.
“Soon we’ll try using that little dildo on you along with my dick, how does that sound?”
Sam can only moan incomprehensibly at the mention of that dildo, because he knows exactly which one Bucky is referring to. It’s only about four inches long and relatively slim, shaped more like a long, bulbous butt plug than a lifelike dildo. They had ordered it online with the intention of using it to simulate double penetration, a fantasy of theirs that Sam was fairly certain would never be acted out in real life because how likely was it that they’d find a man who could fuck Captain America and the Winter Soldier and still remain not only discrete and subtle but alive?
As soon as they worked up the joint courage to try it out, the dildo was going to help them act out their fantasy without the stress and risk of involving a third party. Bucky knew that bringing it up would stoke Sam’s arousal and he chuckles now, slipping his thumb out and using his metal hand to press Sam’s thigh back further.
“Thought you’d like that,” he says darkly. Then, in what is practically a coo, “Know you love hearing me talk about how greedy your ass is, right baby?”
Sam moans helplessly again, hips shifting restlessly on the bed as he tries to encourage Bucky to start moving. He forces himself to make eye contact, blinking dazedly up at Bucky’s smirking face and swallowing the excess drool in his mouth. Finally, he nods shyly in response to Bucky’s question, to Bucky’s clear delight.
“Fucking love this greedy little ass, Sammy,” he growls, finally beginning to move his hips. He grips Sam‘s body tightly, pulling him down onto his cock to meet each of his own thrusts. Sam’s a goner after that, arms splayed above his head and ankles hovering near his ears with the assistance of Bucky pressing his legs back.
Bucky grabs Sam’s ankles and hooks them over his shoulders, effectively bending Sam in half when he leans down to kiss him. This position reminds him that he needs to buy Sam some more pairs of those cute stretchy pants that he wears whenever he does yoga in their sunroom (Sam works on his flexibility at least five days a week; Bucky, on his own volition, always ensures that he’s available to help stretch Sam out before, during, and/or after).
He wraps his right arm around Sam’s back, gripping onto Sam’s right flank and bracing his left arm on the bed. The new leverage allows him to fuck Sam even harder, roughly yanking Sam’s body on and off of his cock. Every time he bottoms out, Sam’s lower half is lifted entirely off the bed; the ferocity of Bucky’s thrusts have Sam gasping for breath and grappling for purchase, hands wandering between the silk sheets and Bucky’s shoulders and chest.
When Bucky minutely changes the angle of his thrusts, Sam suddenly wails, eyes rolling back and one hand flying down to stroke himself.
“That’s it,” Bucky grunts. “You close, baby?”
“Mmm…” Sam moans incoherently. His head thrashes from side to side uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face as he furiously jerks the head of his cock.
Bucky drops him down to the bed, his cock remaining blessedly inside the hot clutch of Sam’s body, and uses his right hand to grasp Sam’s jaw. He turns Sam’s head to face him, his grip firm but gentle, and smiles. Sam knows in his gut what Bucky is about to say -
“Eyes on me while you come, baby,” he murmurs.
- and he was right, his orgasm rushing through him while he does his best to keep his eyes open and on Bucky’s. The older man’s grin goes soft and romantic around the edges as he watches Sam come, even though Sam has argued ad nauseam that his O-face is weird (he’s seen glimpses of it in the mirror, okay, he knows that his eyes cross a little and his nose scrunches up unattractively) and that Bucky is being ridiculous when he claims Sam "could do POV porn."
“Buck,” he slurs, Bucky’s hand still squeezing his jaw. His eyelids flutter open as his body finally relaxes, post-orgasm hormones flooding his brain and making him feel sated and cuddly. Bucky gets the hint and releases his face, going back to fucking Sam’s ass, albeit gentler than before. He comes after just a few more thrusts, Sam humming happily all the while as he stares up at Bucky with a dreamy, unfocused look on his face.
Bucky laughs breathlessly as he finishes, collapsing down to bury his face in Sam’s neck. Sam strokes his hair as Bucky assists in slowly moving his legs back down to the bed. The afterglow stretches for so long that Sam has to jostle Bucky’s shoulder to wake him from a light doze.
“Yo,” he mutters. “Clean me up, pretty please.” Bucky huffs a laugh against his neck and complies, venturing to the bathroom for a clean towel.
Once they’ve both been wiped down and the towel has been disposed of (read: Bucky lobbed it across the suite and it landed somewhere in the living room), Sam crawls under the covers and demands that Bucky do so as well, flopping onto his side in a clear request that Bucky spoon him. Happy to serve, Bucky tucks himself securely behind Sam and presses a kiss to his cheek.
They nap for a few hours until the grumbling of Bucky’s stomach wakes them both around 7:00 that night, just in time to watch the sunset from bed as they order their dinner. They decide to go classic, ordering a pizza topped with extra cheese and pepperoni from the hotel kitchen (though, with how fancy this hotel is, Sam was still expecting the pizza to come up on a golden platter).
The pizza arrives on a silver platter, which he figures is close enough to gold for him to count that as a win, and happens to be absolutely delicious. Each of them polishes off half of the extra-large pizza, which they devour straight from the box as they watch a random episode of Ice Road Truckers on the flatscreen in the living room; whoever had stayed in this room last had left the History Channel on, and Sam and Bucky are too lazy and uninvested to even change the channel.
Sam had planned on showering again before calling it a night, but then his damn husband carries him to bed and tucks him in with his Kindle and a glass of white wine, all while said husband goes off to put the dishes in the dishwasher and turn off all the lights.
Sam is asleep before he even reads a page of his book.