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The world had never smelled so comforting, Steve thought idly. That’s not how he would usually describe the world; he was far more used to stale. The smell of Brooklyn in the summer maybe, smelling of garbage and thousands of sweaty bodies, a faint, persistent odor that lived in the city day and night. Or the smell of war, which had been magnitudes worse. Mud and blood, gunpowder. Oh, he would never forget that wet rotting smell that hung in the air after a war came and went.
But this one he liked. This one was different and surreal. It was warm and inviting and nostalgic in the way that sweets had been during shortage and ration. It made him feel heavy and excited. He felt himself chasing it in his clouded mind. Yet much to his frustration, he found that the closer he tried to push himself towards it, the more resistance he met, and the more restless his slumber became.
The heaviness in his head started to subside as the heaviness in his groin became too difficult to ignore. Steve woke up slowly, opening his eyes one at a time to a mess of brown hair and his nose pressed into the side of Bucky’s neck and shoulder.
Ah, he thought drearily, blinking the sleepiness out of his eyes, Bucky. His mind lingered there for a second, taking comfort in waking up to someone he thought lost for so long. Someone who was now safe in his arms, someone who— he froze mid thought. Someone whose backside his erection was firmly and unmistakably pressed into.
Steve flushed, not knowing if his bed partner was awake yet. It hadn’t been a terribly rough night, not nearly as much as in recent days, but they’d stayed up late exploring shared memories. That always made Bucky tired. Bucky hadn’t had any nightmares that he could recall, though to be honest it wasn’t very often that either one of them slept apart anymore.
It had started with the nightmares shortly after Bucky had awoken from his latest and last cryo sleep. No matter what they’d done to remove the trigger words, nothing would ever erase the terror that hid in his subconscious memories. Even Steve had them occasionally. And if either one of them couldn’t sleep through the night, if some past experience haunted them in their own bed, they would seek out the other’s.
Yet nightmares didn’t seem to be a requirement anymore. More often than not, Bucky would just follow him to bed, not saying a word. He had looked a little sheepish the first time, following Steve to his room without the pretense of having been awoken by a bad dream, but after that it had quickly become routine.
They’d gotten close again after so many years separated by war and ice. Getting together to catch up on the world and attempt to tend the wounds history had left them. They were each the other’s whole world; each the only person left alive that had known the other before they had become soldiers, before they had been chewed up and spit out by war. Back together now, in this new world, things had slowly begun to evolve between them.
It had only been a couple months since their relationship had changed once again. Since the day he had woken up to Bucky’s face, inches from his, with their foreheads nearly touching. They had laid there for what felt like hours, just looking at eachother before Bucky, not saying a word, closed the distance between them and pressed a light kiss to Steve’s lips there in the early morning light. Nothing fancy, nothing rushed, just a soft touch baring the depth of what he felt for his closest friend. Since that day their time together was spent in the same way as before, except now with the addition of nights spent pressed close together, kissing on their couch.
Steve welcomed the new change to their relationship, but with all the recent physical closeness came his long ignored libido, and sometimes at the most inopportune times. Like now. He tried carefully to shift his hips and inch them back when a voice stopped him.
“You don’t have to move.”
Steve let out the breath he’d been holding, “Sorry, Buck.” He felt his face heat again.
“It’s fine.” Bucky said, then paused a moment. “You know— I do remember those cold Brooklyn nights when we had to share a bed.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” he said, “I remember trying real hard not to poke you with more than just my elbows.” At that he turned his head to look at Steve over his good shoulder. His expression was fond and the corner of his mouth was angled up with a smirk.
Steve tilted his head down with a chuckle. If he hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly was now. “I always thought you were dreaming of your last date.”
Bucky snorted softly and smiled, “Maybe.” He squeezed the arm Steve had draped across his waist. “But I know I thought of you too, when you were curled up against me. Other times too.”
It was moments like these where Steve felt as though something had stolen his next breath, like his asthma used to. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and the heat still in his cheeks. Bucky’s eyes dropped from his. Suddenly looking shy and maybe a little guilty.
Steve let out a shaky breath, “Me too.” He gave the other’s waist a light tug in reassurance.
When Bucky looked up at him again, the shyness had gone. Instead he had some of that cockiness Steve was used to from before the war. The kind that he wore after coming home from a good night out dancing. Especially when it had involved a little necking in the dim light of the dance hall.
“And, uh—” Bucky paused before he slowly began to guide Steve’s hand down from his waist until it was resting over the tent in his sweats, “I'm definitely thinking of you now.”
He waited a moment and then turned his head again to look back at Steve, meeting his gaze, “This ok?”
Steve looked up nervously but moved his hand slowly and nodded, “More than,” he answered. He traced the outline of Bucky’s cock through his sweatpants and gave him a light squeeze. Bucky sighed out, soft and content, and shifted so he was more on his back.
Steve propped himself on his elbow and leaned over for a kiss. It was just a light touch of their mouths at first, just a soft expression. They stayed there for a moment, foreheads resting together, just breathing in the other before Steve continued rubbing him through his pants.
It wasn’t long before he could feel Bucky shaking, just the slightest bit. He pressed his nose against the other’s neck and mouthed against his stubbly skin. Steve could hear his friend make a little noise, barely an audible grunt before he felt a metal hand cover his own. He looked up immediately only to find Bucky’s blown pupil’s staring right back at him.
“Bucky..?” he asked gently.
Bucky answered by hooking one thumb under his waistband and pushing down. Steve quickly got the message and helped work the band of his sweatpants down until it provided just enough room to free Bucky’s cock from his bottoms. Steve gripped him lightly and revelled in the way Bucky’s breath caught when skin met skin.
Steve could see the clear trail of fluid connecting the tip of Bucky’s cock to the skin just under his belly button where it had been lying moments before. He was nearly panting now as Steve slowly caressed him, exploring how the other man felt in his hand.
“Steve,” was all Bucky said, but it pulled him from his thoughts and brought his mouth right back up to Bucky’s. This time their kiss wasn’t so light; it was strong and breathless, and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. Without breaking contact, he used his fingers to spread some of Bucky’s precum around, just enough to relieve some friction and make the other moan against his mouth.
Whenever their lips parted for breath, Steve could only stare down at the man in front of him. Bucky looked absolutely wrecked; his breaths were heavy and his lips plush from their kissing. Every slide of his hand over Bucky’s cock and every quiet noise that Bucky made went straight to his groin. He could barely hold back the occasional roll of is hips against Bucky’s thigh. Not that Bucky seemed to mind, of course as every thrust of his hips was usually met by Bucky’s strong thigh pushing back against him.
He could feel Bucky getting more tense with each stroke. The muscles in his legs and abdomen were starting to jump with effort and he was making quick, shallow thrusts up into Steve’s hand.
“Steve, I’m—” he said, barely parting with the other’s lips to look up at him.
Steve stared into his eyes, completely dark now, as Bucky stilled for a long second right before he came in several long spurts across his stomach. The whole time he never closed his eyes, just letting Steve in as he fell over the edge, mouth opening slightly but remaining silent save for a few heavy breaths.
Steve could only watch as his friend tipped his head back and closed his eyes, breathing out deeply through his nose, and coming down from his high. It seemed like forever to Steve before Bucky cracked his eyes open again, cleared his throat, and finally spoke.
“Wow.”
Steve swallowed, “Yeah?” he licked his lips anxiously.
“Yeah.” he said smiling up at him. Then his eyes moved to Steve’s lap and back, “Can I?”
Steve only nodded in response.
Bucky didn’t waste a second as he helped Steve get his pants and boxers out of the way, finally freeing him from the layers of fabric. He wet his palm with his mouth and met Steve’s gaze as he wrapped his hand around him.
Steve couldn’t stifle the moan that forced it’s way up through his throat. “Buck, I’m not going to last long.” he groaned, face flushed.
Bucky just smiled and reached out with his other hand to pull Steve’s face down to his. He kissed him gently, slowly moving his mouth against Steve’s lips as he stroked him leisurely. Steve was suddenly lost in the gravity of it all— in the feeling of long suppressed desires come to fruition at last.
This was Bucky; it was Bucky whose mouth was on his, whose tongue pressed gently against his own and caressed his lower lip. It was Bucky, his oldest, closest friend now lying next to him, a lifetime later, pumping him steadily with one hand while the other was clasped at his shoulder, anchoring him just as soundly as it always had.
It was all Steve could muster to last a dozen or so full strokes before he felt the need to mumble out a warning. “Buck—” He started to move away, trying to avoid adding to the mess on his friend’s torso.
But Bucky kept stroking him firmly, meeting his gaze, “It’s alright.” he said quietly.
Steve didn’t need to be told twice. With one heel pushed into the mattress and his toes curling he let his hips shudder forward one last time as he spilled everything he had over his friend’s stomach and chest. His eyes fell closed as the sight before him and the force of his climax took over his senses. He barely even registered the string of moans that had come out of his own mouth.
When his breathing began to even again his eyes finally agreed to open. Bucky was looking at him just as he had been before, except now the smile he wore was wide and his eyelids lazy as he gazed back at him.
“‘Wow’ is definitely appropriate.” Steve said after a deep breath.
Bucky huffed playfully. “What, you doubted me?” he asked, his lips still curling at the side.
Steve shook his head ever so lightly, “Never.” he said, his smile painfully sincere.
Bucky looked down thoughtfully, his content smile sobered in response. When he raised his face again to meet Steve’s his expression was serious. “I know.” Bucky held his gaze intently before his resolve cracked and he broke into a small grin once more. “Punk.”
Steve chuckled, his smile growing ever wider. In this moment, he was sure he felt more content than he had in nearly a century. Possibly ever.
The feeling of home registered again in his mind; something he thought had been lost for decades. It was a feeling he had associated with only one other person besides his mother for so much of his life. And finally, after so long and so much, home had returned. He now laid beside him, lending his comforting smell to the bed beneath them once more.