Bucky blinks, letting his gaze sweep over Tony in a long, calculated move.
“You’re wearing my shirt.”
“Oh?” Tony pulls at the collar, and then looks back up at Bucky, cocking his head and batting his eyelashes, “I hadn’t noticed.”
He hadn’t noticed? Bucky reaches out and grabs at his hips, fingers fitting around familiar ridges and tugging Tony in so that he’s in between Bucky’s spread thighs, close enough that Bucky can count every individual lash.
“Is that right?” he murmers, “you hadn’t noticed?”
Tony blushes, tongue flitting out to wetten his lips, and Bucky tracks the movement, lifting his hand from Tony’s hips to trace his thumb along the same path once Tony’s done.
Tony relaxes his jaw, and sucks his thumb in, even though Bucky hasn’t changed out of his gear, even though his fingers are still encased in rough leather.
“I missed you,” Tony lets go of his thumb with a wet pop, and Bucky brings the arm on his hip around his waist, close enough that his dick bumps against Tony’s stomach, “didn’t like not having you around.”
Bucky leans in, nosing at the underside of his jaw until Tony leans his head back and bares his neck, so that Bucky can fit his teeth around the vein that’s jutting out.
“So you decided to wear my shirt?” he asks, in between kitten kisses that he’s peppering on Tony’s neck. Against him, Tony’s hips are rolling of their own accord, small stuttered movements as he chases friction.
“You -” he gasps when Bucky bites down on the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, “you took your dog tags with you.”
At that, Bucky leans back, unable to contain his smile when he sees how flushed Tony is; his normally brown eyes blown black.
He lets go of Tony for the couple of seconds it takes to fish his tags over and off his neck; and place them over Tony’s head so that they settle on his chest; before fitting an arm around his waist once more.
“So I did,” he lifts up the tags and presses the cold metal to Tony’s lips, coaxing them open silently so he can place them on Tony’s tongue. With a singular finger, he nudges at Tony’s chin so that he shuts his mouth; watching as Tony’s throat constricts when he sucks on the tags experimentally.
“Hold onto those for me,” he whispers, and then pulls up his shirt, the shirt that Tony is wearing, so that he can wrap his leather-encased fingers around Tony’s dick.
Fin











