Chapter Text
The drink after the mission wasn’t anything new — not for them.
Not when they’d been doing it since the disaster in New York, since the cursed Void that had swallowed them into a whirlpool of nightmares.
It had started quietly, unspoken — two men enhanced by some kind of serum that burned away the alcohol half a second after it hit their systems. Two men sitting on the floor, one leg bent, the other stretched out among shards, broken things, spent casings from exchanged fire. A different kind of war zone.
Now, the setting was a little better. At least there were no shattered pieces scattered on the floor, no bullet shells, nothing like that — just bottles of something strong, two men in that same familiar position, and silence between each sip. The drink was just an excuse, and they both knew it. It had no effect on their enhanced bodies — it was merely a reason to stay in each other’s company. Something that began without intention and, with time, solidified — a comfortable silence slowly turning into something more tangible.
“You did well today.”
Bucky’s voice carried something he still didn’t want to measure, didn’t want to name, didn’t want to admit. There was genuine concern for Walker — care… interest.
“Define ‘well.’”
Walker had finished his bottle, but he still needed to keep his mind, his mouth, and his tongue busy — with something strong he could at least pretend was numbing his senses and his wants.
They sat side by side in the anteroom of Bucky’s quarters. Parts of the Tower were still under repair, and others stood empty, yet that room managed to feel just as hollow as the floors below. Walker turned his head slightly, chin almost resting on his own shoulder as he watched Bucky Barnes lift the bottle to his lips and take a long drink before turning toward him — meeting his gaze with those cold, piercing blue eyes.
Out of the corner of his eye, Walker noticed the bottle being offered to him — Bucky’s right hand extended, not the left one closer to his body.
His half-gloved fingers brushed against Bucky’s as he took the bottle — not too subtle, not too gentle — but Bucky didn’t move an inch. His expression didn’t change; he didn’t look bothered, shaken, or anything other than that blasé mask he wore so well.
“You didn’t throw yourself in front of danger.”
Bucky finally spoke again, eyes tracing every movement Walker made as he brought the bottle to his lips, tilted his head, and swallowed — the bob of his Adam’s apple rising and falling to push the drink down. He had to wet his lips afterward; his mouth was dry, though not from thirst. It wasn’t the alcohol that stirred something in him. His mouth wasn’t dry from wanting a drink — it was craving something else. Something hot. Something carnal. Something he hadn’t allowed himself in far too long.
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice when you had me pinned against the wall. It was either stay still or go through you.”
Maybe he realized how strange that could sound depending on who heard it — or the context. He cleared his throat, as if that could erase what he’d said.
Bucky was still watching him, one eyebrow raised, lips slightly wet as he reached out his right hand again, waiting for the bottle.
When Walker handed it back, their fingers brushed once more — his lingering over Bucky’s, holding just a little longer than necessary.
Just like the way their eyes stayed locked.
If it had been any other time, any other person…
If it had been before the serum, Walker would’ve blamed the alcohol — said it was the drink that made Bucky look at him like that, that made him look back the same way. But the truth was, Walker had had a bit of a crush on Sergeant Barnes long before… long before even meeting him in person. It was a detail he intended to keep well hidden. No one ever needed to know — least of all the man sitting beside him, his hand resting over Walker’s, holding that damn bottle of vodka they’d stolen from Alexei.
“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
Bucky pulled his hand away from Walker’s, keeping the bottle, though he wanted to leave his hand right there.
“Drinking? We do that together after every mission.”
“Pinning someone against a wall.”
“You did that to me today, Bucky.”
From the look Bucky gave him, he realized that wasn’t the kind of “pressing against a wall” Bucky meant.
“Oh.”
“Yeah… oh.”
Bucky let out a short, nasal laugh — something that had become more frequent with each passing day spent around Walker. The more time he spent with him, the more at ease he felt. He knew exactly where this could lead, knew it had every chance of breaking him even further. But he was used to that — to being the one left behind by blonde soldiers hopelessly in love with women they could no longer have.
“If it makes you feel any better, me too.”
Bucky actually laughed this time — choking on the vodka as he tried to swallow it along with the feelings he was drowning.
“How would that make me feel better? Now we’re just two pathetic guys sitting on the floor, sharing a bottle of vodka, both frustrated that we haven’t pinned anyone to a wall in a while.”
“Uh, well… never.”
“What?!”
There was disbelief — total, unfiltered disbelief — but that didn’t stop Bucky from taking another sip to clear his throat before handing the bottle back to Walker again. That same ritual followed — fingers brushing for longer than necessary, eyes locked for longer than wise.
“It’s just that… I never…”
He took a long drink. Actually, two, before finally letting his lips leave the bottle’s rim. He wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, stared straight ahead, and exhaled loudly, his cheeks puffing out before the air escaped with a slightly comical sound. Another sip.
“Olivia and I never…”
He was gesturing wildly — if there had been more liquid in the bottle, he’d have spilled it. Luckily, it was less than half full. Fortunately, Bucky caught it before Walker’s hands could continue their chaotic dance. It was adorable, of course — though Walker didn’t need to know that.
“...had those explosive moments.”
He was blushing — redder than a tomato that would’ve been embarrassed to stand next to him.
“Explosive moments? Seriously?”
“What did you expect, Bucky? She was my high school girlfriend. We got married young… we were each other’s first in basically everything. I never thought about throwing her against a wall for anything.”
The words came out in a rush, like a sudden flood. He was nervous — it showed. The way his bent leg bounced against the floor, the way he avoided looking at Bucky, fidgeting with his fingers, breathing through his mouth as if that could bring his composure back.
“And after her, you didn’t—”
“No!”
“Easy, no one’s judging you here.”
Bucky raised his hands in mock surrender, his gaze softening as he looked at Walker beside him.
“It’s just… it’s been a long time, and that topic brings things up.”
“Brings things up? What, like a damn Kraken in your pants?”
Walker looked at him, utterly scandalized — that are you seriously saying this right now? kind of look.
But then he smiled.
Those white teeth showed between lips slowly curving open, the corners of his eyes creasing with the force of his laughter as he tilted his head back and laughed out loud.
Bucky was screwed. God, he was so completely, irrevocably screwed.
He had to reach for the bottle he’d set aside, bringing it to his lips for another drink — only to lose it half a second later when Walker took it from his hands and mouth, raising it straight to his own.
“You should practice.”
He said it offhandedly — or at least he thought he did. He hoped it sounded that way.
The truth was, if Walker wanted to, he could pin him against the wall again — or rather, Bucky would let him.
“Yeah, and then lose focus for half a second and end up hurting someone.”
Walker had control over his body, no question about it. He knew exactly how much strength to use when turning doorknobs so they wouldn’t break. He could toss eggs in the air while cooking breakfast like a one-trick juggler without crushing them when they landed in his hand.
But touching someone for real, after everything? After the serum, after endless months of not even being able to get off on his own?
“Practice with someone your size.”
The silence that followed was almost funereal.
Walker seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek — or at least that’s what it looked like.
And Bucky could see it — could see the gears in Walker’s head turning, working through possible options, already trying to anticipate Bucky’s next move.
“Hm, that’d leave me with Bob as an option. Would be kinda weird to go up to him and say, ‘Hey, excuse me, real quick — mind if I push you against a wall and get close like I’m about to kiss you, just to make sure I don’t accidentally hurt anyone?’”
He really had built a whole damn script in that head of his — one that, contrary to what most people might think, never actually stopped working.
“Why Bob?”
Walker was about to open his mouth and keep rambling when Bucky interrupted him.
He looked at him — and God, being under Bucky Barnes’s focus was a strange, dizzying thing.
It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, sent a spark shooting down his spine, through his shoulders, all the way to his feet. It made his heartbeat stumble, made his mouth go dry.
“First, because Alexei looks like the type who’d take it way too seriously, and I honestly don’t know what he’s capable of if we give him the wrong idea.”
A fair point — Bucky had to nod in agreement.
“Second, Bob likes men. So he wouldn’t think I’m a complete idiot for asking for that kind of… help, I guess.”
“Well, I like men too.”
Bucky dropped the white elephant right in the middle of the room — more like fired a flare, really — but he’d managed to grab the attention he wanted.
“Do you have a third point?”
“I… yeah, sure.”
He did — but he was still processing that last bit, almost like a kid who’d just gotten the candy he’d been dying to taste, only to drop it before the first bite. Because there was no way — no way — Bucky Barnes was anywhere near within his reach.
“I just… I’m just… processing the information.”
“Then why not practice with me?”
“What, now?”
Walker’s voice was nearly shrill — genuinely startled. But Bucky couldn’t care less. Not when he was watching Walker’s lips move… and not exactly paying attention to the words coming out of them.
“Yeah, why not?!”
God, he wanted it so badly. It would’ve been almost embarrassing to admit how turned on he already was — by the direction of the conversation, by the idea of having a body pressed against his own, against a wall…
“Bucky, I’m joking.”
Walker was flushed, one hand gripping the back of his neck the way he always did when he was nervous — when he wanted something he thought he shouldn’t.
Bucky trained with him, watched him even when Walker didn’t notice. He knew his tells, the nuances in every micro-expression. He could tell when Walker was truly relaxed and when he only pretended to be — tapping his foot to some tune playing in the background.
“If you think about it, this could count as a kind of joke too.”
Bucky stood, the bottle now in his hand — the vibranium one this time — and extended his right hand to Walker.
When John took it, when his half-gloved fingers brushed Bucky’s, when he stood up — it only took a fraction of a second for Bucky to do exactly what he’d done earlier during the mission: press him against the wall.
Back then, it had been tactical — meant to keep Walker safe, because God knew Walker threw himself into danger for his team’s sake, and Bucky was done watching that happen.
But now, here, in his room — the way he let his body lean fully into Walker’s, pushing him against the nearby wall with his right hand — it wasn’t about safety at all.
He did it because he wanted to. Because he’d wanted to for a long time. Because he finally had the chance to let himself enjoy it — without tearing himself apart for admitting it.
If “practice” was the excuse, well… who knew what else he might get from Walker.
“What was the third point?”
Bucky’s chest was pressed against Walker’s, their faces mere millimeters apart. His right hand rested over that solid chest, his eyes scanning every inch of Walker’s face — the flickers of surprise, the widened pupils, the uneven breathing.
Walker grabbed the bottle from Bucky’s hand and took another long drink — if only it could give him what he wanted it to. But at least he could still lie to himself and call it liquid courage.
He knew it wasn’t. Bucky knew it too.
But it was supposed to be a joke, right?
So he’d play along.
One last swallow.
He turned his head slightly, just enough so the bottle wouldn’t bump into Bucky — that’s how close they were — and let it drop. It hit his foot before rolling away across the floor.
Bucky followed the movement, glanced down — and that was all the opening Walker needed to flip their positions.
His grip was firm: one hand on Bucky’s waist, the other at the back of his neck, keeping him from hitting the wall.
“I already know how you’d pin me against the wall. The point’s to try the opposite, isn’t it?”
Bucky could feel both of Walker’s knees brushing against his own. There was a hint of awkwardness there — the positioning, the way their bodies still weren’t quite pressed together. Too much space between them for Bucky’s liking. Too many layers of clothing.
But one step at a time.
He laughed when Walker made that comment — he had no idea how Bucky might actually pin him against a wall.
But if he wanted, Bucky could easily show him.
“Okay… good call with the hand on the back of the neck. Go for intensity, not a concussion.” He was still thinking about how ridiculously sexy Walker had looked finishing off the vodka and letting the bottle drop to his foot, guiding it to the floor with a kind of effortless precision. Had he done that before — back when alcohol still had an effect on his system, on his libido, on his restraint?
“What do you think happens next?” Bucky wet his lips. It wasn’t intentional, the way his body moved — testing the pressure of Walker’s hold. The truth was, he just wanted those fingers to flex in his hair, that hand to settle lower at his waist — which, thankfully, it had. “Remember, this isn’t a fight. You’re seducing someone.”
Walker gave a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as his grip loosened — clearly not confident at all.
He’d never really had to seduce Olivia. It had always been easy between them — they’d lie down, they’d enjoy the moment. She seduced him. The other way around? Not so much.
“Are you the kind of guy who gives up easily, Walker?”
Bucky pushed his hips off the wall, his body almost grazing Walker’s as he met his gaze — that piercing, unwavering stare that could make even the bravest people falter. On Walker, it had the opposite effect — hypnotic, almost.
“The kind who can’t keep up? I thought your fear was about being too strong, not too weak.”
That was the switch — the right button to press.
Because half a second later, Walker was on him again, towering, his shadow cutting across Bucky’s face as his hand slid to the small of Bucky’s back, pulling him closer.
The weight of his body pinned Bucky against the wall.
"Very well… and what comes next?" Bucky was teasing, savoring the moment. He was still looking at Walker as if he were the last chocolate chip cookie at the café—one he really wanted to take a bite of.
"I thought you were going to guide me through this." But Walker’s hands were already on Bucky’s body—that firm grip on his waist pressing him close, squeezing because he could, squeezing because he wanted to understand the limit. His other hand gripped the nape of Bucky’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair, almost pulling it.
"No instincts, Walker? Tsk." Bucky was smiling; he had an idea in mind, and he was going to act on it. "Your fear is losing control, isn’t it? Then let’s push you to the edge. If it’s choreographed, if I tell you what to do and spell out everything I’m going to do, there’ll be no surprise."
Walker nodded in agreement. He noticed the exact moment Bucky’s eyes trailed down his body and then back up to his neck, almost as if mapping him out. And then Bucky leaned in, his breath grazing Walker’s skin as his hands opened Walker’s combat suit just enough to reveal the shirt underneath, just enough for Bucky to tug it down slightly, trapping it on Walker’s shoulders. He watched Walker’s chest rise and fall with each breath, saw how his eyes stayed fixed on every move he made… and felt Walker’s hands press a little harder into his skin and flesh.
When Bucky’s lips touched that neck—so lightly Walker thought he might be dreaming—and when he sucked Walker’s skin between his teeth, drawing it into his mouth and savoring the taste, a faint saltiness from sweat, a flavor that belonged to Walker alone, Bucky imagined. His hands were on Walker’s waist, on his hips, and then he pulled him in with a sudden tug that made Walker gasp in surprise. The way Walker’s hands tightened on him made his shock perfectly clear, but it seemed like a good kind of shock. The way Walker tilted his head to give Bucky better access to his neck, the way that hand on Bucky’s nape pulled him in, keeping his face hidden there so Bucky could suck, bite, kiss.
Was Bucky taking advantage of the situation? Maybe. They were both grown enough to know where this was heading, right? Enough for Bucky’s hand to slide down and grab Walker’s ass, squeezing as he bit his neck with a desire that was still controlled, contained, held back.
"OHFUCK!" It came out as one word. Eyes shut, and every damn drop of blood rushing south. He had no idea that his gasps and that moan were driving Bucky crazy, especially with Walker’s lips so close to Bucky’s ear—close enough that when Walker opened his eyes, he allowed himself to try something.
He brought his mouth close to Bucky's left earlobe, his hand pressing against the nape of his neck and his head—an inviting pressure, something that excited and relaxed, something he knew, at least. He moistened his lips, and with that, his tongue touched Bucky's ear. Brief, cautious, still within the limits of his control, within the bounds of his doubt about what was really allowed.
"You can bite too." Keeping his voice calm was one of his best skills, at least that's what Bucky would claim if asked, because inside he was melting—a puddle of lust, desire, and the want for Walker to do it again, to run that warm tongue over his earlobe, to draw it between his lips and bite. For him to moan right against his ear, amen. "More or less like this..."
And he showed him how it was, holding the back of Walker's neck and running his tongue over Walker's left earlobe, just above where he had been licking and biting his neck. It was tantalizing—the tongue passing over the spot where he could feel Walker's pulse throbbing—until he sucked the lobe into his mouth, between his lips and his teeth, his tongue sliding behind the lobe as he nibbled gently and tugged, then let go, and then met Walker's eyes, pupils dilated and a burning desire beginning to take over those controlled soldier's features.
Walker returned his lips to Bucky's ear, now the other one—tongues, teeth, and lips doing what Bucky had done, but adding an extra touch when he slid his leg between Bucky's, keeping it there while pulling Bucky by the waist as if he could seat him on his thigh in that position, his teeth now at the side, his tongue gliding over it like a balm. He could feel his whole body pressing against Bucky's; he knew he was aroused by this, and well, now Bucky could know too—all it would take was a slight shift.
"Like this?" He kept his voice low as he spoke behind Bucky's ear, his nose inhaling the scent in Bucky's hair—still the shampoo he had smelled countless times when Bucky met up with him and the others after a shower. His beard brushed against that neck, his hands pulling down the zipper, opening the top of Bucky's combat suit, sliding his hands up to Bucky's shoulders to slip inside, between the shoulder covered by the black shirt he wore underneath and the combat suit, pushing it off those arms, that torso—his hands now touching one warm arm and one cool from the metal that made it up. "Might need a little more to push me to the edge..."
Walker was on the edge, poor thing, but he'd say he wasn't.
But in that moment? With Walker's leg between his? With Walker's hands stripping off his clothes? He'd accept any flimsy excuse to get a little more.
"Usually people lose their minds when they can feel a bit more skin…" Bucky brought his hands to the hem of his own shirt the moment Walker finished pulling the top of his combat suit down, letting it fall over his legs, held at the waist in the back. With his arms free, Bucky pulled the shirt off, letting it drop to the floor, his chest now bare, his hand touching Walker's and guiding it to the center of his chest, his fingers intertwined with Walker's as he helped him remove those gloves, left and then right. "Something more or less like this."
He guided Walker's hands over his body, each of his own hands holding the backs of Walker's, feeling the warm skin, feeling Walker's hot breath reaching his bare torso. Shivering at the slightest touch, at Walker's fingers sliding over his skin, at those nails scraping close to his nipples. He was hard—this was giving him a problem that was very hard to ignore.
Walker was in a trance. He could only watch his own hands in Bucky's, and Bucky's hands guiding him on that tactile tour of his body. He wanted to lean in and take that tour with his mouth and tongue. With his teeth, with his whole body…
As he gained confidence, he scratched here and there, but it was when he gripped that firm, muscular chest with his right hand—his other hand on Bucky's waist, occasionally sliding to feel those strong back muscles under his palm—that he squeezed with real force. Bucky's hand was on the bulge in his pants, and he had no idea he was this… hard.
It was an impulse, a slip perhaps. But Walker didn't hold back his reaction—the groan, the way he leaned in, his hand moving from Bucky's back to his neck, pulling him against his mouth, feeling those curiously soft lips on his, feeling Bucky's teeth on his lower lip, Bucky's tongue tasting his as if it were his new favorite flavor of anything in the world. It was usually kisses that drove Walker to desperation. It was the heat of a soft mouth against his, the tongue sliding, the exchanged gasps between occupied murmurs. It was a hand on the back of his neck… and, certainly at that moment, Bucky's other hand groping him over his pants.
The kiss was demanding, hungry, thirsty. Bucky felt Walker's fingers in his hair, felt the pull, the grip, the desperation. He felt a fraction of what it was like to be desired by this man. And he wasn't ready for it—for the lust that overtook him, for the way his entire body responded to the kiss, the way his cock pulsed inside his pants.
All he felt was Walker's body, the heat, the desire, and the need to do what he was doing now—pulling at that damn suit again, forcing Walker to move his hands away so he could slide the sleeves off his arms. And then Bucky's hands were at the hem of Walker's shirt, pulling it over his shoulders and head, tossing it away without a second thought—finally able to see that body he’d glimpsed a few times while Walker trained on the punching bag.
"Still in control?" Bucky touched that skin, one warm hand meeting Walker's, the other cold but making the blond gasp and bite his own lip as he ground his hips against Bucky's. "Might need more..."
Walker wasn't entirely sure what Bucky was offering, but God, he was vehemently agreeing.
"More skin?" Walker wore a smile on his lips—one that was new to Bucky, one that overflowed with sensuality. And that bastard had thought he didn't know how to seduce... of course.
"More surprises..."
Bucky’s hand slid quickly and with enviable precision. He used his left hand for it, slipping into Walker's pants. The belt holding them in place was no match to stop him—not when he had a plan and was determined to follow it, not when now the only thing preventing him from truly feeling the weight of Walker’s cock against his skin was that damned prosthetic. But the face Walker made, the way he gripped Bucky's shoulders and chest and basically pushed him against the wall—without pulling away, going with him, eyes closed, head tilted back—Bucky could have taken a picture of that, of that expression. He could have developed the whole film and gotten aroused with every nuance revealed in the photo.
"Oh! Fuck, Buck!"
"Maybe we can get there after all."
His mouth returned to Walker's neck, now free of the damn layers of fabric that had kept him from gliding his lips and tongue over that shoulder, descending until his mouth was occupied with Walker's chest, with the nipple that was easily aroused. His hand was wrapped around that swollen cock, his mouth on Walker's right nipple and his other hand on the left, caressing, massaging, squeezing, and listening to that man moan just above his head—intoxicating his senses, drowning his ears in that siren's song that would submerge him in desire, lust, and obliterate whatever sanity he had left.
His hair was pulled. His ass was groped as Walker hissed to stifle a moan. His body was pressed so tightly he knew Walker was losing whatever shred of control he’d still managed to hold onto. The man was resilient—if the roles were reversed, Bucky wouldn’t have lasted a second.
Soon, Walker’s mouth was on his again, his hands still roaming that body. He even slid his other hand to Walker’s belt, unbuckling it and creating more room for his hand to continue what it was doing inside that man’s pants. He unbuttoned them, pulled down the zipper, and could finally switch hands. Guiding his right hand to stroke him properly, truly feeling the weight of that hard, dripping cock. Feeling the swollen head against his thumb as he gathered the precum and spread it along the length to the base, aiding in that caress intended to make one of them lose control—maybe both... He was about to kneel, to get on his knees for this man he’d once sworn up and down he couldn't even stand.
But Walker’s hands finally seemed to want to explore his body, pulling without care or patience at the button and zipper of his pants, tugging them down to his hips, making the trail of hair on his abdomen even more visible as it led to the base of his cock. The waistband of his underwear was visible, but not his hard-on yet, not his arousal. That smile—it made Bucky’s legs weaken, made his hand falter slightly in its rhythm, though it still twisted at the head of Walker’s cock, hearing him moan and look at Bucky as if he were about to flip him against that wall and fuck him at any moment. And for the record, in case Walker was wondering, Bucky was willing to let him. After all, Walker needed practice so he wouldn’t hurt anyone with his excess strength—and no one was better suited to endure the trials than Bucky Barnes.
He waited for Walker's hand to slide between his pants and his skin. He wished he could feel Walker's fingers around his hard, touch-starved cock, but he was surprised when Walker seized his mouth in a desperate kiss, surprised when his hands were pulled away from Walker's body—both now above his head, firmly pinned against the wall by just one of Walker's hands. And then he was surprised even more when Walker used his other hand, his arm, to wrap around Bucky's ass and lift him, his back scraping the wall and his legs wrapping around Walker's hips and waist as they kept kissing.
“Was that a good move too, Barnes?” That mouth was on Bucky’s neck now, sucking skin between teeth, biting, licking. His hands were on Bucky’s ass, one seriously strong squeeze that pulled a gasp and a moan from deep in Bucky’s throat, making his legs tighten around Walker.
“What, fishing for compliments, Walker? You want to hear you’ve been a good boy?” He laughed. But he had thought Walker had been an excellent boy doing that—lifting him with such ease, squeezing his ass, marking his neck, looking at him the way he was now, kissing him again like he was doing now… bringing that hand to the front of his pants and finally—finally—wrapping his calloused but warm hand around Bucky’s cock.
“Wasn’t I? I can stop if you want.”
The look Bucky gave him made Walker smile so wickedly that Bucky couldn’t take it. He felt the throbbing in his cock, felt the slick fluid drip from his slit, felt Walker’s thumb swipe through it and collect the moisture. And to Bucky’s great—truly great—surprise, he didn’t use it to keep stroking. Instead, he pulled his hand away from Bucky, keeping the other firmly on his ass, almost as if to balance him in his lap—not that Bucky’s body had anywhere to fall, pressed so deliciously against the wall and Walker’s body.
Bucky was aware of every single movement Walker made. He noticed his gaze drop to his lap, to the cock that had slipped free from his briefs and now lay heavy against Bucky’s abdomen. Even as Walker guided his thumb to his lips, he didn’t stop looking at Bucky and his dripping, desire-filled cock—a cock that throbbed when Walker brought that thumb to his mouth, when his cheeks hollowed as he sucked what was on the tip of his finger, all while holding Bucky’s gaze, seducing him down to his damn soul.
“You’re sure you’ve never done this with anyone before?”
It was hard to believe no one else had witnessed this—this man tasting someone like this. Holy shit.
"I think I'd remember if I had." The wink… Bucky was so lost in Walker's charm. And he thought he was the one doing the seducing—he fell into a net he hadn't even seen Walker cast. "May I continue?"
"It'd be pretty rude and unempathetic to leave a guy hard and walk away, don't you think?"
Walker laughed and returned his lips to Bucky's as he moved his hand back to that penis to stroke it. It didn't take long, and Bucky was really bothered by that, but there had been so much stimulation—he'd wanted this for so long. But with Walker kissing, licking, and biting him, with Walker looking down as he stroked him, with Walker twisting his wrist each time he moved up to Bucky's glans, the way he brought his hand to his mouth again and licked it to ease the motion—Bucky was in his new paradise, but Walker was no angel; he was temptation.
He came with his head against the wall, with Walker breathing against his neck and biting it, he came and felt the jets of semen hit his chest and abdomen, just as they had landed on Walker, marking him in that brief moment as something that had been his, even if only temporarily. It took a few seconds for his legs to recover from the orgasm, for Walker to set him back on the floor, for Walker's hand to slip back into his pants, for his fingers to wrap around his penis and stroke it while he actually wanted to be on his knees with Walker's cock shoved deep down his throat.
Walker moaned—it was otherworldly. It was wonderful and hellishly addictive.
"I'm almost…"
"How kind of you to warn me." Bucky was faster, then slower, listening to that almost whimper of complaint from Walker as he looked at him—eyes with dilated pupils, blue giving way to the dark of desire, swollen mouth, flushed skin, sweaty, entirely delicious and Bucky Barnes's type.
When Walker came, when he dug his hands into Bucky's body, eyes closed and head tilted back as he rocked his hips as if he were fucking Bucky's hand… Bucky might still not be sure, but Walker really wanted to fuck him.
Panting breaths. Walker looked at him again as if Bucky were what he truly desired.
"Can I kiss you again?"
He didn't wait for a verbal answer—if Bucky didn't want it, he could push him away and he'd stop—but he didn't. He returned the kiss because that was what he wanted, too. He wanted more, so much more.
"You have a few marks…" Walker commented as he pulled away, looking at Bucky's neck, torso, and arms. Marks made by him—one or two were from the mission, but the rest? All from the irrepressible desire of John Walker.
He stepped back further. Picked up his shirt from the floor and put it on. He only fastened his pants, leaving the top half of his combat suit down around his legs. His room was close—it wouldn't be strange for him to walk around like that, since he'd been seen that way many times before, half out of his suit for convenience.
"Well, that just means you need more practice." Bucky was hopeful, even if his tone was almost matter-of-fact, not revealing how much he wanted more with Walker. How much that little taste had left him craving so much more. "I can help."
"Just invite me."
Walker wore a smile as he left Bucky's room, the door shutting behind him, leaving Bucky Barnes engulfed in that feeling, in the scent of sex that lingered in his anteroom, in the state his body was left in after feeling John Walker's touch.