Sam doesn't catch on immediately, but when he does, he has the wrong kind of reaction.
There's an alpha on his ass. Not literally, at least not yet. But he can tell he's gained a stalker, after a while. The whiff of a scent that is showing up a little too often in places Sam frequents, and a little too regularly to be coincidence.
The stalking is smooth, he has to give the alpha that. Sam doesn't notice immediately, and when he does it's just because he pays attention to the scents around him so much. But he can tell - his standard seat in his favorite coffee shop. The corner where he always stops to stretch mid-run. His favorite route through the park. Fucker's going around getting his scent all over Sam's path, like he's marking his territory already. Presumptuous.
Kinda hot, though, which is the dumb reaction Sam has. Dumber still is he gets so fed up with the long distance stalking that he flips the script.
The reason that's dumb is that he can tell his stalker alpha is a predator species. But here's the thing... Sam's many things, but prey ain't one. He knows he runs the risk of being dragged into a back room, pushed and pushed and pushed until he opens his legs and lets some alpha gets his dick wet. Unless they run for the hills once they figure out he's not a meek little doe, or on the flipside, a sex-crazed kitten. Just a bird, smelling wild and free. Apparently that's been enough to wet this alpha's appetite for him.
So Sam flips the script. Turns from prey into predator himself, and lets his nose guide him onto the trail of the alpha, into a dark bar with a claiming room - and a couple shamelessly going for it in the corner, filling the place with pheromones that have everyone just a little hornier than they might otherwise be. Sam finds a seat that carries the spicy, heavy scent of his stalker alpha - and slides ride into it. Gives the bartender a shit eating grin when the man - also an alpha, blonde, tall and muscular, totally a golden retriever pretending to be a big tough canine - moves to point out the folly of his life choices. But in the end Steve - the bartender - just gets Sam a drink.
And then Sam waits, back turns to the room as if he's oblivious to how his jeans hug his ass, how the dim lighting makes his dark skin glow, highlights his sharp cheek bones and plush lips, how he's planted that ass where his stalker prefers to sit, how he's subtly bleeding scent all over this spot. How he's basically broken all social customs by coming here and putting himself in the alpha's way like this.
Sam's not one to play games, though. Not one to let himself pursued like prey for weeks and months until the alpha decides it's time to make a move. No, Sam considers this a challenge, and rises to it. And the way he keeps his back to the room is a clear middle finger to whoever's been on his scent, a fuck you that couldn't be greater.
And perhaps, in some ways, it's also a bit of a 'fuck me, if you dare'.
To be fair, Bucky hadn't originally intended to be stalking Sam. He'd been out, running, and went past... Someone. Someone who smelled fucking amazing. Now, Bucky knew better than to double back and try to find him. Him being the Guy with the Scent that was so fucking good it was like having had too much ice cream but you end up going back for seconds anyway.
So instead of following the origin he goes hunting for other concentrated scent locations along the run. And then it's time for a shower, and work, and while Bucky is thinking about that scent all day... airy, birdlike, strong... he has a life to lead and it's not his day off.
Next day is though and still thinking about that scent, Bucky aimlessly wanders a neighborhood adjacent to one of the big park entrances and goes into a coffee shop where he's hit with it again. Fresh but not live and in person.
Well.
Maybe it's just meant to be?
He doesn't think this scent is prey... he knows the difference, knows how it makes him feel. He wants to chase, not maim. He wants to play. Bucky can't remember ever having someone's scent make him want to play. Granted, his dating life is "tragically haunted" according to Peggy, so maybe this is what he's supposed to feel like? Instead of afraid or uncertain or like he's already doing to much?
But Bucky is a lot of things that epitomize wolves living solo while simultaneously trying not to live too hard into being an alpha wolf out in the world, unhinged and horny at every moment, completely incapable of higher reason once something or someone has his attention. So he doesn't stalk the bird, not properly. He just. Revisits those places. A few times. Maybe almost every day for about a week and a half.
The smell is really good, ok? And he isn't trying to cover it up he just wants it to carry with him a little more than it would otherwise. That's not so bad, right?
He knows this isn't tenable, in the long run, but it's been... a minute since he pursued anyone so the next steps elude him. He bitched to Steve and Peggy about it in that exact seat the Perfect Bird is sitting in just last night. What's a wolf to do when first impressions are everything but instinct is uncertain?
Apparently, the Perfect Bird came to him.
Bucky smells it in the doorway and is immediately excited. The Perfect Bird is here, in the bar, and he doesn't know what to make of it immediately other than (!!).
Steve looks at him from the bar with a deeply unimpressed expression.
The Perfect Bird doesn't turn around.
Well, alright then. Bucky unfreezes from the doorway and comes completely inside, taking a moment to appreciate the Perfect Bird's ass in that barstool, before sitting in the adjacent stool and fixing the Perfect Bird with a grin.
"You know you're sitting in my seat," is not actually a question.
It's a wolf, and suddenly the stalking is reframed in Sam's mind. So his predator wasn't hunting him.
No.
His puppy was playing.
Thing is, people have ideas about wolves. Sam's not unaware of that. But he knows the difference between alpha knotheads and slightly skay pursuit. Wolves who are assholes tend to stalk prey omegas in packs, for one. A lone wolf repeatedly seeking out his scent? That's almost adorable. Good tracker, then.
Easy on the eyes too. That gaze is BLUE and those lips are full and pink. He's a bit younger than Sam. He grins and quips and Sam has the impression that the wolf has no idea how close he comes to sounding stand off ish. Steve behind the bar is aware. Sam can see the face palm in his periphery.
Sam finds himself charmed by his little stalker, can't help the bashful little smile tugging on his lips. Damnit.
"Thought I'd return the favour, puppy. You been all over me."
Being called "puppy" by this man whose fresh scent is currently mixing with Bucky's scent left over time on the barstool, the woodgrain of the bar, does some fast and intense to Bucky's libido. He wants to shove his face in the other man's neck and lick. Or where his thigh joins his leg to his torso.
Or just get the Perfect Bird's dick in his mouth. He licks his lips a little, unconsciously narrows his eyes. That would work too.
Bucky is pretty sure he smells pretty intense right now, especially to sensitive noses like Steve's. Too bad. This is great.
"I appreciate it." A grin. Wolfish, of course, followed by a gesture to Steve. Two of whatever Sam is having. "I'm Bucky. What's your name? I can just keep calling you the Perfect Bird, if you want."
Oh yeah, that scent is just out there. Bucky might as well have written "down to fuck" written on his forehead. And Sam is interested, certainly. He wouldn't be here otherwise.
Despite how in everyone's face that scent is though, Sam doesn't mind it. There's something grounding in it - and frankly something honest. Bucky wears his heart on his sleeve. Or his dick, as it were. And perhaps Sam can't help but follow that peek of a tongue. Wolves love lapping scent off their partners, he knows that. A hook up with an oral fixation? He's far from opposed.
Sam wasn't sure what to expect other than an alpha propositioning him when he chose to come here. This is better than he thought it might be so far.
"Ain't so perfect, puppy, but don't mind you laying it on thick all that much."
Sam's not gonna push. He can tell what Bucky wants, and he's not pumping the breaks. But the wolf wants to play, so Sam will hold himself back a bit. Let himself be played with and pursued. He knows if they end up hooking up for some release, a little push and pull will make it all the sweeter.
And damn, it's been oh so very long for Sam. He's not used to being pursued like this any longer, genuinely a little surprised that Bucky seems no less enthusiastic when presented with the origin of that scent he'd caught. Couple with the casual way in which Bucky is ordering for the both of them... now that is a level of being on an alpha's radar Sam hasn't had in a while either. Bucky's a wolf through and through then- caretaker. In charge not to control but to provide. It goes to his head in the best way.
And elsewhere.
Sam shifts a little, just subtly, can feel a little heat between his legs.
Bucky is aware of Sam shifting in his seat, though by sound or smell he couldn't say. But there's axnew note to Sam's scent that has Bucky leaning in toward the other man, nostrils flared just a little bit.
"I gotta tell you Sam, the way you smell is perfect though." He's almost crowding Sam now, legs open and leaning in his direction. Looming, more to block the attention of anyone else in the bar than to be directly intimidating.
Also his dick is so hard his fingers are curled into his palm against the bar to distract him from it.
The arrival of the drinks means Bucky has downed a good third of his beer before he's realized it, too caught up in staring at Sam's mouth throat combination as he drinks from the beer bottle, and his free hand is at Sam's knee.
The touch is light, at least, but it's happening. With Bucky's not flesh and blood hand, even. But he figures... Sam came here. Followed his scent here. People fuck here all the time, it's an alpha dive bar in that fashion. Omegas come here to fuck and alphas hang out with each other, their partners, go cruising. Sam has to know that. Right? So there's a good chance he's down.
He smells warm and wet already.
Bucky wants to scent him so bad. Wants to run his tongue across Sam's Adam's apple. He has to adjust in his seat a little, letting go of the bottle (but not of Sam's knee) to pull st the inseam before he pops a seam or something.
"What about i give you a grand tour of the place?"
He has questions about the hand on his knee, about the cool metal of it, but those can wait. Much more interesting is the way in way which Sam's eyes drop to follow Bucky's hand, sees his attempt to adjust. Oh, he's massive. He's confined in his jeans and already looks like Sam couldn't possibly take him.
So naturally Sam wants to try real bad. Wants to see if this wolf could get him wet enough to take all that monstrous dick.
He glances around. At the unimpressive bar, at the couple getting real damn desperate in the corner. At the door to the back room, for those who want to be less on display.
"What makes you think I'd say yes? I didn't come here to get fucked."
It's a bit of a test. To help Sam gauge if Bucky is the kind of alpha Sam will have instead of shutting this down. As exciting as this is, as much as they all love the fantasy of an alpha taking what he wants whether the omega consents or not... sam isn't so sex crazed he's actually just gonna roll over for a red flag on two legs. No matter how comfortably filthy he feels with slick between his legs, hole clenching around nothing. Greedy.
There's the scrape of another barstool. Someone postures, unzips his pants. Crude and aggressive. "The bitch is ripe. If you can't seal the deal, I'll break him proper.
Some competition for Bucky. Though perhaps not all that much - it's obvious to a nose like Bucky's how Sam's scent immediately becomes less invitingly warm and wet, as the omega shifts again.
"I think I could convince ya, Sam," Bucky starts gently before someone stands, a semi-regular Bucky has never been fond of. He grins, all sharp canines and feral attention, looking over his shoulder at the other alpha before Bucky also rises to his feet.
The metal hand moves from Sam's knee to Bucky's side as he positions himself between the Omega and the asshole alpha. He gives Sam's shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze as he turns to face the other alpha.
Bucky glances downward, unimpressed with the other man's showing.
"You wanna sweettalk him into it? You're welcome to try but he doesn't smell all that interested in you. No one us forcing anybody to do shit here tonight."
The other alpha laughs and grass his dick. "He's wet enough I ain't gotta talk, just pin him down a little. You like that pretty bird? If you don't fight me I don't break nothing."
Bucky growls at the outright threat to Sam's wellbeing and then it's a blur of motion. The other alpha steps forward (some hyena-type, Bucky guesses) and Bucky grabs him by the wrist and pulls. The noise of the man's arm dislocating is loud in the bar. So is his scream of pain, actually.
Bucky doesn't let go. He drives the other man to the floor on his knees by rotating the wrist he's got a hold of.
"We don't do that shit here. If Sam says no, means no, i ain't touching him, and you, you sad fucking sack with a sorry limp dick, for damn sure ain't gonna touch him. Get the fuck OUT."
Bucky hauls the man up and drags him toward the door, shoving him through it.
His breathing is coming out heavy. Aroused and angry can be a dangerous combo at the best of times and now? He's worried about Sam. About what Sam'll think of him. He tries and fails the breathe steadier from the doorway before he glances in Sam's direction.
Sam clocks him a very then and there. That wasn't just an alpha used to handling assholes. That was downright professional, and Sam has worked with enough vets to pon the difference. Also gives him more context for the advanced prosthetic. And for the tension in Bucky's shoulders.
Sam watches the whole thing. Steve hovers closer now, obviously both keeping an eye to see if he needs to interfere with the tussle, and to check up on Sam. It's sweet. Sam hopes Steve has someone who appreciates that level of sweet. He himself tosses Steve an exasperated look.
"What a mess. Can't believe I'm gonna fuck him."
Steve spotters, throws his hands up a little. "You know you don't have to."
And Sam just gives him the biggest shit eating grin ever. "Nah, I'm gonna."
So when Bucky looks back, Sam is no longer sitting at the bar. He doesn't have to worry about having ruined his chances though. As the rest of the bar goes back to business as usual now that the scene is over, Sam steps right into Bucky's personal space. Foolish to do with an agitated alpha, damn near brainless when that alpha is a wolf. But there is no fear radiating from Sam. He's trembling, but not because of anything bad with Bucky.
"It's okay. Breathe."
Slides his hands up the front of Bucky's chest, feels the way his breathing is still erratic, his heart going a mile a minute. Steps closee still, slides a hand over Bucky's neck wrist against skin to share scent. Tucks his face against Bucky's. Nuzzles him. Voice a soft whisper.
"What a good boy. What a strong alpha."
People balk at aggressive, aroused wolves. And here is Sam. Getting close and offering nothing but calm breath and sweet praise for the display, offering his proximity and his scent to soothe Bucky's agitation. Bucky protected him. And Sam rewards that with easy affection and acceptance of all that Bucky is. And they both know the risk. They both know Bucky's cocktail of arousal and aggression could well mean he might just snap and claim Sam as a reward. Perhaps Sam should let him, but when instincts are that sharp and agitated, who knows whether that would matter, when Sam is right there, available, smelling oh so sweet, and not put off by who and what Bucky is.
The column of his neck exposed for Bucky to pull that scent into his nostrils and get drunk on it.
It's 'puppy' again, Sam's sweet air and earth scent, the unexpected presence and touch that centers and grounds Bucky in an instant. His face pressed to Sam's neck, tongue pressing against skin where Bucky can smell his scent the strongest. Bucky breathes deep, steadying with each moment, his hands settling at Sam's waist.
"I want..." To press his tongue across every inch of Sam's rich skin. To take him to the back and press him into the bed and find out the taste of Sam's slick. To put the man's cock in his mouth until he knows what Sam's cum tastes like too.
"I want you. Here, now. In the back, just us." His hands tighten on Sam's waist. "You wanna?" His teeth worry at the skin beneath Sam's ear. "If you wanna go I'll walk you home." His hips roll against Sam's briefly. "Say yes, Pretty Bird. Please say yes. I want you real bad."
It's the fact that Bucky asks. That Bucky doesn't just take just yet but asks. Begs, almost. And yet makes it clear that if Sam says no, if Sam doesn't want what Bucky wants, he'll wall him home. And Sam doesn't know this man - but he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he gave a firm no, Bucky would respect it. Would see Sam home safe. He's a fire and Sam has been playing with it - but Bucky would never burn him unless Sam wanted him to.
Sam lets Bucky paw ot him. Melts into the hold, whispers at the teeth on his neck. Tangles his fingers in Bucky's hair and puts his lips to the wolf's ear. His tone is light and honey sweet.
"Sweet boy... strong alpha. You want me to say yes? You want me to open my legs for you? I wont."
For a moment the world doesn't exist. There's just the intimate sound of Sam's breath in Bucky's ear. And then... husky and low, with a bit of a whine, he coaxes this sweet wolf to give in to his wants. Sam gives up the power of a no with a simple challenge:
Bucky chuckles against Sam's skin, biting down just a little bit before he steps back and lets go of Sam entirely. He's grinning, wolfish again, sharp teeth visible just beyond the edge of his lips. He rolls his shoulders a little to force the muscles that are currently tensed to relax.
Part of him wants to press forward now but the rest of him would rather have at least a wall between him and the rest of the patrons.
"Will you run? Do I get to sniff you out?" He won't be upset if the answer is yes. "I'd like that."
Sam chuckles, drops his gaze for a moment. Then offers Bucky his hand. Calm. Like an invitation, rather than take up Bucky's obvious suggestion. And Sam doesn't miss it - the way Bucky doesn't ask for what he wants and needs. Just floats the idea as something he might like, as if it's not a big deal.
So Sam offers his hand like he's skipping the suggestion. Like he wants to take Bucky by the hand and lead him back.
And the moment Bucky moves to take the offered hand, Sam's mouth opens in a wolfish grin of his own - and he takes off running. Not towards the back, no. But away. Offering the chase. Offering Bucky a chance to run him down, grab him, drag him into the back room and have his merry way with his claim.
It's the continuation of the play Bucky started. It's a chase. Alpha hunting omega, not to maim but to catch, take, have. Prove strength and instinct and virility. Omega running from alpha, not to escape but to be pursued. Prove desirable and claimable.
So Sam teases Bucky. Lures Bucky. Runs from Bucky.
There's a bark of laughter from Bucky at this subterfuge and then they're off, Sam running toward the stockroom and kitchen with Bucky immediately cornering him, before he gives him room to escape. It continues on in this vein, with Bucky pinning and herding Sam towards the back rooms, reaching out, touching Sam on the small of his back, his wrist, his shoulder. Touch, allow Sam to bolt, follow.
Eventually Bucky gets Sam pinned in a corner near the door to the backroom. There's several moments of prolonged sniffing of Sam's neck, of pressing his hands all over Sam's chest and groin until he simply picks Sam up and hauls him over his shoulder as Bucky rushes into the room, dropping Sam on the bed on his back and leaning over him, trapping Sam's legs between his own.
He buries his face in Sam's neck, sucking a hickey into the skin there as he presses his hips against Sam's. "I can smell how wet you are," he growls lowly, before sitting up and flipping Sam over onto his stomach, metal hand coming around to quickly unfasten the fly of Sam's jeans.
Doesn't take much before he's got Sam's ass on display and without even thinking about it, Bucky buries his nose between those cheeks.
He's breathless by the time Bucky finally catches him. Not from exertion, but quickly rising excitement. Oh Bucky is good at playing. Doesn't just go for the immediate touch to show how amazing he is. Let's Sam run, let's them both hype each other up with "near misses". By the time he pins Sam, gropes him all over, Sam is smiling so wide it hurts. Sputters a "Don't you dare" but doesn't stop Bucky when he throws Sam over his shoulder.
And oh, Bucky's very correct. Sam whines and rocks against the alpha, feels the way his slick soaks through his underwear. And still, wanting though he so obviously is, Sam squirms, fights Bucky's easy man handling of him every step.of the way. As of he isn't desperate for this hook up. Considers himself oh so lucky to have attracted an alpha like this. Even if this is all they get, first names and a steamy backroom fuck, Sam will hold this man dear.
He mewls when Bucky makes to eat his ass, can't help but reach back and part his cheeks - but the sweetness of his scent dims when Sam feels a thick drop of slick dribble from his hole. Feels something anxious settle in him and tries to play if off.
"You're so sweet, but You don't gotta drink your fill, Buck. It's a lot. You can just fuck me."
Gives him an out. Humorous, self deprecating. A little bit ashamed. But still oh so wet and warm for Bucky, hole clenching on nothing, slick wet on his rim and his thighs. So very needy and so very wet, just for Bucky.
Bucky is already on his knees, mouth slightly open, staring at that wet drip leaving Sam's hole and making it's way towards the bedcovers. Sam opens wide and Bucky whines a little before the change in Sam's scent and what Sam is and isn't saying soaked in to his brain.
"Know I ain't gotta. Wanna," which is all the warning Sam gets before Bucky's fave, his mouth, is right there on Sam's hole, licking and probing with his tongue, fingers interlaced with Sam's on his asscheeks.
Bucky would love to do just this all night. His very hard dick has other priorities, though, which means it's only about five minutes before he's coming up for air, flesh and blood hand reaching around Sam's waist and wrapping around Sam's cock, a mix of Sam's slick and Bucky's saliva on his palm. The metal one goes for his own button and zipper before returning to spread Sam open from at least one side. He gets his pants off, shoes too, and then he's pressing his chest to Sam's back. The way this night is going there's no way Bucky doesn't pop a knot before long, but he's used to navigating how long he's got before things get untenable.
He'd hate to actually hurt Sam or scare him off. Already his mind is trying to spin how 'next time' might play out and that won't happen if his knot scares the other man away.
He lets his cock sort of slide between Sam's asscheeks for a moment before he slowly works himself in. There's no real question about whether or not Bucky can just slide in; he's never managed to slide his dick into anything smaller than the palm of his own hand before. Even as wet as Sam is right now it's not enough preparation for Bucky to get too deep.
The few inches he does manage before he's rocking in and out, slowly dragging his cock past that ring of tight muscle? Fucking heaven. Sam is so tight it sets Bucky to a low babble of praise, telling Sam about how amazingly wet and tight he is. How good he feels.
Bucky strokes Sam's dick at the same rate as he fucks into him, slow but steady, inescapable in his presence.
Those minutes with Bucky's face buried in his ass are pure bliss that Sam rarely experiences. Many alphas consider bird slick way too much in amount, taste, smell. So Sam is used to only getting eaten or fingered as bare minimum foreplay to get him wet enough to take dick. With Bucky it almost feels like the alpha is actually into it, like he'd be pleased to learn that Sam could come from just this - untouched, just having someone eat his ass like they really wanna.
Goddamn amazing.
The alphas dick is almost too much. Has Sam squirm as if trying to get away. It feels like he's being ripped apart, like there's no room for air inside of him. It's been a while since he's taken dick, so he knows he's as tight as he could be, and wolves tend to run big - but goddamn. He can't imagine this is half as pleasurable for Bucky as his babbling makes it sound - Sam.for hisnpart feels like he grips him like a vice, makes movement needlessly difficult. And oh he gets noisy here - doesn't talk back, but whines and whimpers and mewls, helpless to do Mich but take it as best he can, sounding increasingly desperate. His orgasm takes him by surprised, the messy slick slide of Bucky's hand on his dick combined with being filled better than he can remember having ever been filled, and it just rips him over, makes him shake, unable to keep himself upright under the relentless onslaught on his poor little hole, clenching down hard on Bucky and begging please, please, please.
Sam's whole body, it feels like, convulses and clenches down on Bucky's cock and it's only an entire lifetime of practice that stops him from just pressing forward, from seating his cock in as deep as he can, and damn the consequences.
He comes, though, hard and panting in Sam's ear. It surprises him just a little, but it's been a minute and Sam is the perfect combination of wet and tight that he can't help himself and doesn't even try. His knot rests just outside Sam's ass for a moment, spreading his cheeks apart and Bucky adjusts himself so he can see the contrast between the swollen red membranes and the perfect dark brown skin.
Bucky could get used to that view, he thinks. God, what he wouldn't give for the opportunity.
"Can I eat it out of you?" His voice is rough and his dick twitches at the thought. Fuck, he could get hard right away even if Sam is grossed out by the idea (but something makes him think that Sam won't be).
Sam knows it's impossible to feel every ribbon of cum that Bucky generously pumps into him... and yet. Something primal and deep inside of him wants to keen at the feeling of hot cum flooding his hole. He wishes desperately that he could see it leak out of him around Bucky's cock and knot that presses hot and heavy against his rim.
And for a moment Sam wants to throw all reason to the wind, rock back and ask Bucky to stuff it inside no matter how much it would hurt. Wants to be split apart like that so desperately that he nearly gets off a second time from the thought alone.
Thank fuck it's not considered good manners to knot in back rooms. Too inconvenient for everyone involved. And Sam is about to offer that Bucky stay inside of him and just rub his knot against Sam's slick hole to milk Bucky dry, to make sure the take care of him.
But then Bucky makes his suggestion, and it makes Sam clench down hard again, whining with how hot he is doe the idea.
"You're filthy" he gripes, then shifts. Just lowers himself to the pillow underneath and reaches back to spread his plump cheeks wide, legs shifting further too. "Playing with your food. Unbelievable." But that's real fond humour in the quip.
"I know how to enjoy the finer things. Like how perfectly round your ass is." Also his skin is very soft and lovely to touch, but that might be a slightly creeptastic thing to say right now, even with all other things considered. "And how good you smell all fucked out right now." Bucky licks a long stripe along Sam's skin, from his balls all the way up to the small of his back, repeating that action a few times before he nibbles on one round asscheek and then goes to town. It's a messy business, eating out someone's ass much less eating cum but Bucky has no qualms or hesitations about how much of it ends up on his face and chin and a little on his chest too, soaking into the material of his t-shirt.
When he's done, when Sam smells like Bucky in more than one way but there's no more cum to slurp out, he flips the other man over and grins before grabbing Sam's face and kissing him. Possibly not the most thought-out he's ever made but he's had a great time and is still ragingly horny; perhaps Bucky can be forgiven.
Sam is on heaven. It has been too long since he's had the pleasure, and know what a mess Bucky is eating up with such gusto just makes it alle the better. Sam can't help how eagerly he grinds against that pretty face. Can't help how incoherently he praises Bucky's tongue, encourages every swipe of tongue and every scrape of teeth on his puffy, sensitive rim.
He's basically boneless when Bucky flips him over, makes a soft noise that could be protest but isn't when Bucky enforces thay filthy kiss on him. No, that noise is a shocked gasp that melts seamlessly into a deep and dirty moan. Sam's mouth opens for Bucky, as warm and wet in its welcome as his hole had been for the alpha. And he keeps making those greedy sounds into the kiss, into the messy exchange of slick and cum between their mouths. Sam licks the mess from Bucky's tongue, teases him to give chase here too.
And oh his hands are clenched in Bucky's shirt, and after a moment the strong muscles flex in his quivering thighs, he angles his hips up. And then he's seeking friction in Bucky's thigh. His own cock soft, but his hole leaves warm slick.
He would apologise, but he's so needy it's hard to think. Sam breaks the kiss. Stares up at Bucky, face a glistening mess after that kiss. Dark eyes swallowed damn near hole by how wide his pupils are. He whimpers, still clutching Bucky.
"Oh baby, I wanna so bad I can barely think about anything else. Except the kitchen here sucks, and this mattress is sad, and I don't wanna make you breakfast in that rinky-dink fuckin' affair." It's not a line; it comes out a little too rushed and Bucky's eyes go from relaxed to wide in a very unwolflike manner as soon as he says it.
Well. Guess that particular desire is out in the open.
He noses Sam's cheek. "I wanna fuck you again. I wanna see you wake up." A soft but messy kiss. "That okay, baby? You can always change your mind, but my dick would follow you across state lines, and that's a fact."
A tongue swipes across Sam's lips and then he pulls himself back to sit on his knees. "I'll walk ya home. Scared if we go to my place we ain't gonna make it out the elevator." And there are too many floors to take the stairs.
Bucky's earnest desire is rewarded with a pleased whine at the back of Sam's throat, the thought almost too good on it's own merit. Sam wants the whole deal - fucking until he can kiss his morning run goodbye, breakfast in bed, maybe even with food instead of just eating each other's cum. Maybe Bucky could fuck him so good in the shower Sam's prude neighbours would faint from the noises.
"I don't live too far. I can take you home. You can come inside - a lot. All night, and for breakfast. But first..."
Sam lies back, pushes his shirt up and runs his hands over his torso. Squeezes his pecs and make sure Bucky's looking.
"You cleaned me up too good. Wanna walk home marked up." Sam licks his lips. He smells so inviting. "Pleay with yourself for me. Paint my tits, puppy. Show me my place."
"Oh, fuck, Sam," Bucky murmurs in a sort of rapturous joy. The fact that his dick practically springs up to hit him in the lower abdomen at the suggestion would likely be a clear indicator of just how excited Bucky is at the prospect. "Perfect ass, perfect fucking tits, perfect smell." He licks his hand, still covered a bit with Sam's slick, his own saliva, and Sam's cum. "Perfect all-around."
Bucky could touch himself to cause a paint-splattered work of art across Sam's chest, but the prospect of rubbing his cock and his very hard knot across all that soft, brown skin is too exciting. He drags the heavy, wet tip of his cock down the center of Sam's chest, swipes to the left, then to the right, circling the precum and the remains of his earlier orgasm across Sam's nipples. He arranges himself so that as he's leaning over Sam he is also keeping Sam's legs caught between his own, his toes tucked beneath Sam's thighs. It doesn't take long for spurts to begin coating Sam's skin, Bucky grunting on every exhale.
And with every grunt Bucky gives him while painting Sam's chest, Sam moans as if Bucky's nailing his sweet spot, as if this is enough to get him off. A little reward and encouragement for the performance.
"So generous to me..." And Sam feels a splatter hit his bottom lip, his jawline. Doesn't bother wiping or licking it away. Lets Bucky enjoy the sight of thick white droplets on rich dark skin as Sam trails his fingers through the mess, teases his nipples and relaxes with a sigh. He reeks of the alpha. He's a mess.
It's amazing.
"Alright. God I wanna continue but... lets get somewhere comfortable enough for me to split apart on that that rifle you're packing."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For @pamyat
There's an alpha on his ass. Not literally, at least not yet. But he can tell he's gained a stalker, after a while. The whiff of a scent that is showing up a little too often in places Sam frequents, and a little too regularly to be coincidence.
The stalking is smooth, he has to give the alpha that. Sam doesn't notice immediately, and when he does it's just because he pays attention to the scents around him so much. But he can tell - his standard seat in his favorite coffee shop. The corner where he always stops to stretch mid-run. His favorite route through the park. Fucker's going around getting his scent all over Sam's path, like he's marking his territory already. Presumptuous.
Kinda hot, though, which is the dumb reaction Sam has. Dumber still is he gets so fed up with the long distance stalking that he flips the script.
The reason that's dumb is that he can tell his stalker alpha is a predator species. But here's the thing... Sam's many things, but prey ain't one. He knows he runs the risk of being dragged into a back room, pushed and pushed and pushed until he opens his legs and lets some alpha gets his dick wet. Unless they run for the hills once they figure out he's not a meek little doe, or on the flipside, a sex-crazed kitten. Just a bird, smelling wild and free. Apparently that's been enough to wet this alpha's appetite for him.
So Sam flips the script. Turns from prey into predator himself, and lets his nose guide him onto the trail of the alpha, into a dark bar with a claiming room - and a couple shamelessly going for it in the corner, filling the place with pheromones that have everyone just a little hornier than they might otherwise be. Sam finds a seat that carries the spicy, heavy scent of his stalker alpha - and slides ride into it. Gives the bartender a shit eating grin when the man - also an alpha, blonde, tall and muscular, totally a golden retriever pretending to be a big tough canine - moves to point out the folly of his life choices. But in the end Steve - the bartender - just gets Sam a drink.
And then Sam waits, back turns to the room as if he's oblivious to how his jeans hug his ass, how the dim lighting makes his dark skin glow, highlights his sharp cheek bones and plush lips, how he's planted that ass where his stalker prefers to sit, how he's subtly bleeding scent all over this spot. How he's basically broken all social customs by coming here and putting himself in the alpha's way like this.
Sam's not one to play games, though. Not one to let himself pursued like prey for weeks and months until the alpha decides it's time to make a move. No, Sam considers this a challenge, and rises to it. And the way he keeps his back to the room is a clear middle finger to whoever's been on his scent, a fuck you that couldn't be greater.
And perhaps, in some ways, it's also a bit of a 'fuck me, if you dare'.
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So instead of following the origin he goes hunting for other concentrated scent locations along the run. And then it's time for a shower, and work, and while Bucky is thinking about that scent all day... airy, birdlike, strong... he has a life to lead and it's not his day off.
Next day is though and still thinking about that scent, Bucky aimlessly wanders a neighborhood adjacent to one of the big park entrances and goes into a coffee shop where he's hit with it again. Fresh but not live and in person.
Well.
Maybe it's just meant to be?
He doesn't think this scent is prey... he knows the difference, knows how it makes him feel. He wants to chase, not maim. He wants to play. Bucky can't remember ever having someone's scent make him want to play. Granted, his dating life is "tragically haunted" according to Peggy, so maybe this is what he's supposed to feel like? Instead of afraid or uncertain or like he's already doing to much?
But Bucky is a lot of things that epitomize wolves living solo while simultaneously trying not to live too hard into being an alpha wolf out in the world, unhinged and horny at every moment, completely incapable of higher reason once something or someone has his attention. So he doesn't stalk the bird, not properly. He just. Revisits those places. A few times. Maybe almost every day for about a week and a half.
The smell is really good, ok? And he isn't trying to cover it up he just wants it to carry with him a little more than it would otherwise. That's not so bad, right?
He knows this isn't tenable, in the long run, but it's been... a minute since he pursued anyone so the next steps elude him. He bitched to Steve and Peggy about it in that exact seat the Perfect Bird is sitting in just last night. What's a wolf to do when first impressions are everything but instinct is uncertain?
Apparently, the Perfect Bird came to him.
Bucky smells it in the doorway and is immediately excited. The Perfect Bird is here, in the bar, and he doesn't know what to make of it immediately other than (!!).
Steve looks at him from the bar with a deeply unimpressed expression.
The Perfect Bird doesn't turn around.
Well, alright then. Bucky unfreezes from the doorway and comes completely inside, taking a moment to appreciate the Perfect Bird's ass in that barstool, before sitting in the adjacent stool and fixing the Perfect Bird with a grin.
"You know you're sitting in my seat," is not actually a question.
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No.
His puppy was playing.
Thing is, people have ideas about wolves. Sam's not unaware of that. But he knows the difference between alpha knotheads and slightly skay pursuit. Wolves who are assholes tend to stalk prey omegas in packs, for one. A lone wolf repeatedly seeking out his scent? That's almost adorable. Good tracker, then.
Easy on the eyes too. That gaze is BLUE and those lips are full and pink. He's a bit younger than Sam. He grins and quips and Sam has the impression that the wolf has no idea how close he comes to sounding stand off ish. Steve behind the bar is aware. Sam can see the face palm in his periphery.
Sam finds himself charmed by his little stalker, can't help the bashful little smile tugging on his lips. Damnit.
"Thought I'd return the favour, puppy. You been all over me."
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Or just get the Perfect Bird's dick in his mouth. He licks his lips a little, unconsciously narrows his eyes. That would work too.
Bucky is pretty sure he smells pretty intense right now, especially to sensitive noses like Steve's. Too bad. This is great.
"I appreciate it." A grin. Wolfish, of course, followed by a gesture to Steve. Two of whatever Sam is having. "I'm Bucky. What's your name? I can just keep calling you the Perfect Bird, if you want."
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Despite how in everyone's face that scent is though, Sam doesn't mind it. There's something grounding in it - and frankly something honest. Bucky wears his heart on his sleeve. Or his dick, as it were. And perhaps Sam can't help but follow that peek of a tongue. Wolves love lapping scent off their partners, he knows that. A hook up with an oral fixation? He's far from opposed.
Sam wasn't sure what to expect other than an alpha propositioning him when he chose to come here. This is better than he thought it might be so far.
"Ain't so perfect, puppy, but don't mind you laying it on thick all that much."
Sam's not gonna push. He can tell what Bucky wants, and he's not pumping the breaks. But the wolf wants to play, so Sam will hold himself back a bit. Let himself be played with and pursued. He knows if they end up hooking up for some release, a little push and pull will make it all the sweeter.
And damn, it's been oh so very long for Sam. He's not used to being pursued like this any longer, genuinely a little surprised that Bucky seems no less enthusiastic when presented with the origin of that scent he'd caught. Couple with the casual way in which Bucky is ordering for the both of them... now that is a level of being on an alpha's radar Sam hasn't had in a while either. Bucky's a wolf through and through then- caretaker. In charge not to control but to provide. It goes to his head in the best way.
And elsewhere.
Sam shifts a little, just subtly, can feel a little heat between his legs.
"Sam. I'm Sam."
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"I gotta tell you Sam, the way you smell is perfect though." He's almost crowding Sam now, legs open and leaning in his direction. Looming, more to block the attention of anyone else in the bar than to be directly intimidating.
Also his dick is so hard his fingers are curled into his palm against the bar to distract him from it.
The arrival of the drinks means Bucky has downed a good third of his beer before he's realized it, too caught up in staring at Sam's mouth throat combination as he drinks from the beer bottle, and his free hand is at Sam's knee.
The touch is light, at least, but it's happening. With Bucky's not flesh and blood hand, even. But he figures... Sam came here. Followed his scent here. People fuck here all the time, it's an alpha dive bar in that fashion. Omegas come here to fuck and alphas hang out with each other, their partners, go cruising. Sam has to know that. Right? So there's a good chance he's down.
He smells warm and wet already.
Bucky wants to scent him so bad. Wants to run his tongue across Sam's Adam's apple. He has to adjust in his seat a little, letting go of the bottle (but not of Sam's knee) to pull st the inseam before he pops a seam or something.
"What about i give you a grand tour of the place?"
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So naturally Sam wants to try real bad. Wants to see if this wolf could get him wet enough to take all that monstrous dick.
He glances around. At the unimpressive bar, at the couple getting real damn desperate in the corner. At the door to the back room, for those who want to be less on display.
"What makes you think I'd say yes? I didn't come here to get fucked."
It's a bit of a test. To help Sam gauge if Bucky is the kind of alpha Sam will have instead of shutting this down. As exciting as this is, as much as they all love the fantasy of an alpha taking what he wants whether the omega consents or not... sam isn't so sex crazed he's actually just gonna roll over for a red flag on two legs. No matter how comfortably filthy he feels with slick between his legs, hole clenching around nothing. Greedy.
There's the scrape of another barstool. Someone postures, unzips his pants. Crude and aggressive. "The bitch is ripe. If you can't seal the deal, I'll break him proper.
Some competition for Bucky. Though perhaps not all that much - it's obvious to a nose like Bucky's how Sam's scent immediately becomes less invitingly warm and wet, as the omega shifts again.
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The metal hand moves from Sam's knee to Bucky's side as he positions himself between the Omega and the asshole alpha. He gives Sam's shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze as he turns to face the other alpha.
Bucky glances downward, unimpressed with the other man's showing.
"You wanna sweettalk him into it? You're welcome to try but he doesn't smell all that interested in you. No one us forcing anybody to do shit here tonight."
The other alpha laughs and grass his dick. "He's wet enough I ain't gotta talk, just pin him down a little. You like that pretty bird? If you don't fight me I don't break nothing."
Bucky growls at the outright threat to Sam's wellbeing and then it's a blur of motion. The other alpha steps forward (some hyena-type, Bucky guesses) and Bucky grabs him by the wrist and pulls. The noise of the man's arm dislocating is loud in the bar. So is his scream of pain, actually.
Bucky doesn't let go. He drives the other man to the floor on his knees by rotating the wrist he's got a hold of.
"We don't do that shit here. If Sam says no, means no, i ain't touching him, and you, you sad fucking sack with a sorry limp dick, for damn sure ain't gonna touch him. Get the fuck OUT."
Bucky hauls the man up and drags him toward the door, shoving him through it.
His breathing is coming out heavy. Aroused and angry can be a dangerous combo at the best of times and now? He's worried about Sam. About what Sam'll think of him. He tries and fails the breathe steadier from the doorway before he glances in Sam's direction.
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Sam watches the whole thing. Steve hovers closer now, obviously both keeping an eye to see if he needs to interfere with the tussle, and to check up on Sam. It's sweet. Sam hopes Steve has someone who appreciates that level of sweet. He himself tosses Steve an exasperated look.
"What a mess. Can't believe I'm gonna fuck him."
Steve spotters, throws his hands up a little. "You know you don't have to."
And Sam just gives him the biggest shit eating grin ever. "Nah, I'm gonna."
So when Bucky looks back, Sam is no longer sitting at the bar. He doesn't have to worry about having ruined his chances though. As the rest of the bar goes back to business as usual now that the scene is over, Sam steps right into Bucky's personal space. Foolish to do with an agitated alpha, damn near brainless when that alpha is a wolf. But there is no fear radiating from Sam. He's trembling, but not because of anything bad with Bucky.
"It's okay. Breathe."
Slides his hands up the front of Bucky's chest, feels the way his breathing is still erratic, his heart going a mile a minute. Steps closee still, slides a hand over Bucky's neck wrist against skin to share scent. Tucks his face against Bucky's. Nuzzles him. Voice a soft whisper.
"What a good boy. What a strong alpha."
People balk at aggressive, aroused wolves. And here is Sam. Getting close and offering nothing but calm breath and sweet praise for the display, offering his proximity and his scent to soothe Bucky's agitation. Bucky protected him. And Sam rewards that with easy affection and acceptance of all that Bucky is. And they both know the risk. They both know Bucky's cocktail of arousal and aggression could well mean he might just snap and claim Sam as a reward. Perhaps Sam should let him, but when instincts are that sharp and agitated, who knows whether that would matter, when Sam is right there, available, smelling oh so sweet, and not put off by who and what Bucky is.
The column of his neck exposed for Bucky to pull that scent into his nostrils and get drunk on it.
"You did so well, puppy."
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"I want..." To press his tongue across every inch of Sam's rich skin. To take him to the back and press him into the bed and find out the taste of Sam's slick. To put the man's cock in his mouth until he knows what Sam's cum tastes like too.
"I want you. Here, now. In the back, just us." His hands tighten on Sam's waist. "You wanna?" His teeth worry at the skin beneath Sam's ear. "If you wanna go I'll walk you home." His hips roll against Sam's briefly. "Say yes, Pretty Bird. Please say yes. I want you real bad."
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Sam lets Bucky paw ot him. Melts into the hold, whispers at the teeth on his neck. Tangles his fingers in Bucky's hair and puts his lips to the wolf's ear. His tone is light and honey sweet.
"Sweet boy... strong alpha. You want me to say yes? You want me to open my legs for you? I wont."
For a moment the world doesn't exist. There's just the intimate sound of Sam's breath in Bucky's ear. And then... husky and low, with a bit of a whine, he coaxes this sweet wolf to give in to his wants. Sam gives up the power of a no with a simple challenge:
"So you gotta make me."
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Part of him wants to press forward now but the rest of him would rather have at least a wall between him and the rest of the patrons.
"Will you run? Do I get to sniff you out?" He won't be upset if the answer is yes. "I'd like that."
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Sam chuckles, drops his gaze for a moment. Then offers Bucky his hand. Calm. Like an invitation, rather than take up Bucky's obvious suggestion. And Sam doesn't miss it - the way Bucky doesn't ask for what he wants and needs. Just floats the idea as something he might like, as if it's not a big deal.
So Sam offers his hand like he's skipping the suggestion. Like he wants to take Bucky by the hand and lead him back.
And the moment Bucky moves to take the offered hand, Sam's mouth opens in a wolfish grin of his own - and he takes off running. Not towards the back, no. But away. Offering the chase. Offering Bucky a chance to run him down, grab him, drag him into the back room and have his merry way with his claim.
It's the continuation of the play Bucky started. It's a chase. Alpha hunting omega, not to maim but to catch, take, have. Prove strength and instinct and virility. Omega running from alpha, not to escape but to be pursued. Prove desirable and claimable.
So Sam teases Bucky. Lures Bucky. Runs from Bucky.
Plays with Bucky.
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Eventually Bucky gets Sam pinned in a corner near the door to the backroom. There's several moments of prolonged sniffing of Sam's neck, of pressing his hands all over Sam's chest and groin until he simply picks Sam up and hauls him over his shoulder as Bucky rushes into the room, dropping Sam on the bed on his back and leaning over him, trapping Sam's legs between his own.
He buries his face in Sam's neck, sucking a hickey into the skin there as he presses his hips against Sam's. "I can smell how wet you are," he growls lowly, before sitting up and flipping Sam over onto his stomach, metal hand coming around to quickly unfasten the fly of Sam's jeans.
Doesn't take much before he's got Sam's ass on display and without even thinking about it, Bucky buries his nose between those cheeks.
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And oh, Bucky's very correct. Sam whines and rocks against the alpha, feels the way his slick soaks through his underwear. And still, wanting though he so obviously is, Sam squirms, fights Bucky's easy man handling of him every step.of the way. As of he isn't desperate for this hook up. Considers himself oh so lucky to have attracted an alpha like this. Even if this is all they get, first names and a steamy backroom fuck, Sam will hold this man dear.
He mewls when Bucky makes to eat his ass, can't help but reach back and part his cheeks - but the sweetness of his scent dims when Sam feels a thick drop of slick dribble from his hole. Feels something anxious settle in him and tries to play if off.
"You're so sweet, but You don't gotta drink your fill, Buck. It's a lot. You can just fuck me."
Gives him an out. Humorous, self deprecating. A little bit ashamed. But still oh so wet and warm for Bucky, hole clenching on nothing, slick wet on his rim and his thighs. So very needy and so very wet, just for Bucky.
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"Know I ain't gotta. Wanna," which is all the warning Sam gets before Bucky's fave, his mouth, is right there on Sam's hole, licking and probing with his tongue, fingers interlaced with Sam's on his asscheeks.
Bucky would love to do just this all night. His very hard dick has other priorities, though, which means it's only about five minutes before he's coming up for air, flesh and blood hand reaching around Sam's waist and wrapping around Sam's cock, a mix of Sam's slick and Bucky's saliva on his palm. The metal one goes for his own button and zipper before returning to spread Sam open from at least one side. He gets his pants off, shoes too, and then he's pressing his chest to Sam's back. The way this night is going there's no way Bucky doesn't pop a knot before long, but he's used to navigating how long he's got before things get untenable.
He'd hate to actually hurt Sam or scare him off. Already his mind is trying to spin how 'next time' might play out and that won't happen if his knot scares the other man away.
He lets his cock sort of slide between Sam's asscheeks for a moment before he slowly works himself in. There's no real question about whether or not Bucky can just slide in; he's never managed to slide his dick into anything smaller than the palm of his own hand before. Even as wet as Sam is right now it's not enough preparation for Bucky to get too deep.
The few inches he does manage before he's rocking in and out, slowly dragging his cock past that ring of tight muscle? Fucking heaven. Sam is so tight it sets Bucky to a low babble of praise, telling Sam about how amazingly wet and tight he is. How good he feels.
Bucky strokes Sam's dick at the same rate as he fucks into him, slow but steady, inescapable in his presence.
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Goddamn amazing.
The alphas dick is almost too much. Has Sam squirm as if trying to get away. It feels like he's being ripped apart, like there's no room for air inside of him. It's been a while since he's taken dick, so he knows he's as tight as he could be, and wolves tend to run big - but goddamn. He can't imagine this is half as pleasurable for Bucky as his babbling makes it sound - Sam.for hisnpart feels like he grips him like a vice, makes movement needlessly difficult. And oh he gets noisy here - doesn't talk back, but whines and whimpers and mewls, helpless to do Mich but take it as best he can, sounding increasingly desperate. His orgasm takes him by surprised, the messy slick slide of Bucky's hand on his dick combined with being filled better than he can remember having ever been filled, and it just rips him over, makes him shake, unable to keep himself upright under the relentless onslaught on his poor little hole, clenching down hard on Bucky and begging please, please, please.
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He comes, though, hard and panting in Sam's ear. It surprises him just a little, but it's been a minute and Sam is the perfect combination of wet and tight that he can't help himself and doesn't even try. His knot rests just outside Sam's ass for a moment, spreading his cheeks apart and Bucky adjusts himself so he can see the contrast between the swollen red membranes and the perfect dark brown skin.
Bucky could get used to that view, he thinks. God, what he wouldn't give for the opportunity.
"Can I eat it out of you?" His voice is rough and his dick twitches at the thought. Fuck, he could get hard right away even if Sam is grossed out by the idea (but something makes him think that Sam won't be).
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And for a moment Sam wants to throw all reason to the wind, rock back and ask Bucky to stuff it inside no matter how much it would hurt. Wants to be split apart like that so desperately that he nearly gets off a second time from the thought alone.
Thank fuck it's not considered good manners to knot in back rooms. Too inconvenient for everyone involved. And Sam is about to offer that Bucky stay inside of him and just rub his knot against Sam's slick hole to milk Bucky dry, to make sure the take care of him.
But then Bucky makes his suggestion, and it makes Sam clench down hard again, whining with how hot he is doe the idea.
"You're filthy" he gripes, then shifts. Just lowers himself to the pillow underneath and reaches back to spread his plump cheeks wide, legs shifting further too. "Playing with your food. Unbelievable." But that's real fond humour in the quip.
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When he's done, when Sam smells like Bucky in more than one way but there's no more cum to slurp out, he flips the other man over and grins before grabbing Sam's face and kissing him. Possibly not the most thought-out he's ever made but he's had a great time and is still ragingly horny; perhaps Bucky can be forgiven.
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He's basically boneless when Bucky flips him over, makes a soft noise that could be protest but isn't when Bucky enforces thay filthy kiss on him. No, that noise is a shocked gasp that melts seamlessly into a deep and dirty moan. Sam's mouth opens for Bucky, as warm and wet in its welcome as his hole had been for the alpha. And he keeps making those greedy sounds into the kiss, into the messy exchange of slick and cum between their mouths. Sam licks the mess from Bucky's tongue, teases him to give chase here too.
And oh his hands are clenched in Bucky's shirt, and after a moment the strong muscles flex in his quivering thighs, he angles his hips up. And then he's seeking friction in Bucky's thigh. His own cock soft, but his hole leaves warm slick.
He would apologise, but he's so needy it's hard to think. Sam breaks the kiss. Stares up at Bucky, face a glistening mess after that kiss. Dark eyes swallowed damn near hole by how wide his pupils are. He whimpers, still clutching Bucky.
"Do it again. Fuck me, alpha. Take me. Please."
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Well. Guess that particular desire is out in the open.
He noses Sam's cheek. "I wanna fuck you again. I wanna see you wake up." A soft but messy kiss. "That okay, baby? You can always change your mind, but my dick would follow you across state lines, and that's a fact."
A tongue swipes across Sam's lips and then he pulls himself back to sit on his knees. "I'll walk ya home. Scared if we go to my place we ain't gonna make it out the elevator." And there are too many floors to take the stairs.
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"I don't live too far. I can take you home. You can come inside - a lot. All night, and for breakfast. But first..."
Sam lies back, pushes his shirt up and runs his hands over his torso. Squeezes his pecs and make sure Bucky's looking.
"You cleaned me up too good. Wanna walk home marked up." Sam licks his lips. He smells so inviting. "Pleay with yourself for me. Paint my tits, puppy. Show me my place."
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Bucky could touch himself to cause a paint-splattered work of art across Sam's chest, but the prospect of rubbing his cock and his very hard knot across all that soft, brown skin is too exciting. He drags the heavy, wet tip of his cock down the center of Sam's chest, swipes to the left, then to the right, circling the precum and the remains of his earlier orgasm across Sam's nipples. He arranges himself so that as he's leaning over Sam he is also keeping Sam's legs caught between his own, his toes tucked beneath Sam's thighs. It doesn't take long for spurts to begin coating Sam's skin, Bucky grunting on every exhale.
"So pretty, Perfect Bird."
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And with every grunt Bucky gives him while painting Sam's chest, Sam moans as if Bucky's nailing his sweet spot, as if this is enough to get him off. A little reward and encouragement for the performance.
"So generous to me..."
And Sam feels a splatter hit his bottom lip, his jawline. Doesn't bother wiping or licking it away. Lets Bucky enjoy the sight of thick white droplets on rich dark skin as Sam trails his fingers through the mess, teases his nipples and relaxes with a sigh. He reeks of the alpha. He's a mess.
It's amazing.
"Alright. God I wanna continue but... lets get somewhere comfortable enough for me to split apart on that that rifle you're packing."
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