Title: you know you make me want to
Word Count: 635
Warnings/Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, under 1k, Ficlet, Violent Sex, Happy Sex, A Definite Mr. and Mrs. Smith Moment, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Summary: imagineyourotp: Imagine your OTP lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed and slightly alarmed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had.
"Holy shit," Bucky says, sounding almost stunned. "Your shield's in the fucking ceiling."
"... huh." Steve blinks lazily at the spiderweb cracking around it, plaster starting to crumble and drop off in pieces. There are a few other places he can see where the shield's left a distinctive sickle-shaped hole, including the walls. That fixure in the corner is done for. "It sure is."
There's a rustle of sheets as Bucky eases himself up, appearing in Steve's field of vision with a disbelieving look on his face as he stares around the room. His hair's a mess and there's blood drying on his lip, smeared over his chin. "We broke the table," he announces. "And the window."
Steve grins up at him, bruised and sore and very, very satisfied. "We broke a lot of things."
Bucky looks down and smirks, and Steve feels cool metal fingers on his still-warm cheek. "Gave you a bit of a shiner, here."
"'S'that right," Steve murmurs, stretching back against the torn sheets, arms above his head and his toes curling. The cuts and bruises ache, and muscle trembles in his thighs, his stomach, his whole body feeling weak and well-used. "Worked me over pretty good, feels like."
Bucky's eyes go from amused to intent, and he leans in closer, fingers trailing down Steve's chest. "And don't you look pleased with yourself," he says, voice dipping into a low purr.
"Maybe I am," Steve says, then breathes out a surprised "oh," as Bucky slides his hands through the tacky mess on his belly to his soft cock, squeezing gently. "Mmm, yes."
"Yeah?" Bucky asks thickly, less gentle now. Steve cants his hip up, and grunts in frustration as Bucky's hand slips away. "Again?"
"Yes, yeah, just— oh fuck," Steve moans, throaty and wanton as any blue movie starlet as Bucky dips those cool fingers into him where he's still stinging-hot and loose, sinking in so slick and easy it makes him flush, even after everything else they've done. "Bucky—"
"Fuck," Bucky echos on a pained laugh, bracing himself on his free arm and leaning over to press a hard and desperate-feeling kiss to Steve's mouth. His fingers pump in and out, deeper, until they're buried to the knuckles. Metal rubs and crooks and twists inside him, slow and forceful, two, then suddenly three fingers and Steve swears incoherently, planting a foot on the mattress for leverage and fucking back on them.
"Please, please, I want— Buck, please, I—"
"Fucking hell, Rogers," Bucky pants against his throat, shoulder pressed into Steve's sternum as his arm works. "There're easier ways to kill a man, you know."
"I'll kill you if you fucking stop," Steve groans, pulling at him, trying to hook a leg around his hip and drag him down. "Just, come here—"
The shift in weight is too much for the badly abused bedframe. With a rattling crash, the legs give out and the boxspring drops two feet to the floor, Steve bouncing against the mattress and Bucky coming down hard on top of him. "Shit!" he says, "are you—?"
"What did I say about stopping," Steve growls, voice coming out so rough he almost doesn't recognize it.
In twenty minutes he's going to be absolutely mortified because they even broke the bed; because Bucky's staring down between them where Steve's clenching around cold steel with eyes gone wide and a little wild, open mouth smeared with blood from a resplit lip.
But right now— "I want you to fuck me, Barnes," he rasps, getting a fist in Bucky's hair and wrenching his head up, shuddering at the way it makes Bucky gasp. "So get your ass moving, got it?"
"... whatever you say, Cap," Bucky says with a dazed, shit-eating grin, and this time when Steve tugs him down, he goes willingly.