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"Excited, Captain?"
Steve started. It never failed to surprise him just how quiet Bucky could be when he wanted. He glanced at Bucky, then guiltily looked down. His fears were confirmed: his boner was clearly visible in the blue pants. The dark jacket didn't do much at all to hide it. He swore under his breath.
Bucky laughed.
Flushing, Steve shifted his weight, resisting the urge to tug at his collar. He tried to at least get the jacket to hide his erection. God, if he met the President like this he'd die of embarrassment. He grumbled, "It's these pants."
Bucky's smile was indulgent and mocking. "Of course it's the pants."
Steve made a face. "I hate the new uniform." What was wrong with green? Why'd they have to go with blue? And why did the pants have to be so tight?
Bucky shrugged. "No one likes the new uniform." He smoothed a hand down the front of his own jacket.
While Steve let himself look at Bucky--thinking that at least Buck managed to look good in the blue, even if his hair was a bit long--Bucky's eyes skated the room. They were gathered with the rest of the honorees in a well-appointed private waiting room.
Then Bucky's eyes lit up and his smile shifted, and the look he shot Steve made Steve's insides twist and his dick twitch.
"If you'll excuse me, sir."
Steve knew that look. He knew that tone of voice, too. He watched Bucky cross the crowded room and disappear into a far alcove between two enormous Christmas trees. An alcove with a door, Steve realized, and only then noticed the unassuming bronze plaque. A restroom. Steve looked around, but no one was looking at him. The other soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines, and surviving spouses were all occupied, with themselves or the decor or with each other. He might as well have been invisible. He couldn't ask for anything better, so he set his shoulders and moved through the crowd, following the route Bucky had taken.
Bucky was waiting for him when he slipped into the restroom and locked the door. He gave Steve one of those slow smirks.
"Need some help, Captain?"
"You can stop calling me that," Steve said.
Bucky laughed, reaching for him. His fingers worked open the buttons of Steve's jacket, deft and quick. He winked. "Maybe I like it."
"But we're out now," Steve blurted.
Darkness passed over Bucky's face. The med board hadn't been an easy process for Bucky. Steve regretted bringing it up. They were civilians now--just damaged vets. He started to say something--anything--to change the subject, to lighten the mood, but Bucky just quirked a half-smile up at him, veiled fear in his eyes.
"Yeah," he said. He wrapped a hand around Steve's tie and tugged. "Still want me?"
"I always want you, Buck." He didn't even have to think about it.
He just didn't believe that Bucky really wanted him.
That was all they said for a while.
Bucky pulled Steve in by his tie and kissed him, wet lips and hot tongue, and Steve was helpless in the kiss. He settled his hands on Bucky's hips, fingers dug into his flanks through the wool. Bucky opened his belt one-handed, opened his pants and folded the fly back. When his hand slipped in through the front of Steve's shorts, Steve was already hard, so hard he leaked. He couldn't help it. There was the friction of the new pants and there was the excitement of being a guest at the White House, invited by the President of the United States, and there was the excitement of seeing Bucky for the first time in months, cleaned up and mostly mobile and looking better than Steve had seen him since before their last tour in Afghanistan.
Bucky wrapped his right hand around Steve's hard cock and pulled. He broke the kiss to look up at Steve, and the expression in his eyes, his open wet red mouth, it was too much. Steve closed his eyes. He licked his lips and focused on the feel of those sniper's callouses on him. Bucky released his tie and slipped his left hand in through the front of the shorts, cupped Steve's balls. He groaned. He pressed his face to Bucky's hair and breathed him in, sweat and shampoo, and he felt Bucky's lips on his neck as he squeezed and stroked.
Steve pushed his hands under Bucky's jacket to hold his waist and when he came, he muffled a deep groan against the side of Bucky's head.
When he finally opened his eyes and pulled back, Bucky was licking his fingers clean, looking right at him.
"That looks messy," he breathed.
"I like it messy."
Steve did, too, but they hadn't really had time for messy in years. He checked his watch as he sealed his pants.
"Me, too," he said, and sank to his knees. Steve looked up. "Mind if I return the favor?" He stroked fingers across the front of the pants, where Bucky was hard and hot through the wool.
Bucky looked down at him, hunger on his face and something softer in his eyes. He passed a hand over Steve's hair. "I guess, if you really want to."
Steve always wanted to. He opened Bucky's pants and swallowed his cock.
They didn't have much time, so he had to make quick work of it. But he'd missed this. He'd missed Bucky's cock down his throat and Bucky's hips in his hands, he'd missed the way Bucky's fingers clenched in his hair and the low, desperate groans Bucky gave. Steve closed his eyes and reveled in it, and when Bucky came--Steve's name a hiss on his lips--Steve swallowed it all.
He ran his hands up and down Bucky's legs and sat back on his heels as Bucky sagged back against the counter's edge and shuddered.
Bucky blinked down at him. Something soft and full passed over Bucky's face, and Steve didn't really want to see that expression; he knew it couldn't be real. Then Bucky ran his fingers through Steve's hair and gave him a crooked grin.
"Come on." He tugged at Steve's hair. "Let's go have dinner with the President."