@allamericana from here
Something about John has always rubbed Bucky the wrong way. The man annoys the hell out of him, but so did Sam once upon a time (and he still does, sometimes), and that doesn’t change the way Bucky feels drawn to John. He’s been fighting it for a while now, avoiding Walker when he could, but here they are now, with John having kissed him and now all he can think about is how John’s lips felt upon his own.
He wishes he could say it was liquor that made him say the words he’s spoken but alcohol does little for him. No, this was driven by pure need and desire. It means nothing, he wants to say, but before he can get the words out John’s lips are on his again.
This time, Bucky melts into it, the groan he releases muffled by John’s lips that move so perfectly and needily against his own. Bucky wastes no time in shoving his tongue into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as their tongues glide against each other, hot and slick and desperate.
The kiss ends far too soon for Bucky’s liking, leaving him panting for breath as his eyes flutter open to look onto Walker’s gaze. He doesn’t get a chance to complain when those lips busy themselves upon his skin instead.
Eyes flutter shut again, tangling fingers made of flesh through Walker’s hair while his other hand gently grasps at his shoulder, careful not to grip too hard. His head lolls to the side, granting John more access to the flesh of his neck so that he can plant more kisses there. Kisses that have Bucky’s lips parting in soft gasps.
“Then do it. No one is stopping you.” He’s sure as hell not going to stop John now that they’re going this far. Might as well keep going, to hell with everything else, right?
