Sambucky one shots

Operate At My Prettiest

Title from EASIER by Quadeca jus cus it's a good song and he's incredible

Bucky, right now, would just maybe call himself lucky.

The full plushness of the bed is just daring him to sink into the thick of it, melt away into something else entirely, and the only thing keeping him from doing so is just as desirable, just as pleasant as Sam, whose breath skids across skin in a sign before he presses a kiss to the area, smooths the pad of his finger against where it resides inside of Bucky.

God, it should be some filthy thing, shouldn't it? But rather, it's like the soft blue of Sam's stupidly comfortable sheets paired with how overly and wonderfully sweet Sam is being cancels out the lack of innocence involved as Bucky's lashes flutter, warmth enclosing him from every possible direction, and he attempts to somehow stifle the gasp that makes its way out, trying to collect air like at that this point that's far much more easier than collecting any sense of composition. He's no longer in control, and frankly, it makes him question the idea of if he ever was, maybe he lost it all as soon as Sam had kissed him back, as soon as Sam had pressed his shoulders back and promised him a mouthful of lovely little things and crowded him up on the bed, all as Bucky accepted it, soaking in the way each touch seemed to open up his entire being, really, his chest being woven apart bit by bit, each finger wrapped around his wrist or dusting across his forearm, each press of Sam's lips to his body, and slowly, his layers are being removed so that Sam can see more than just this physical little thing he is, so that Sam can really actually see him.

Where, literally speaking, it's just a hand on his stomach, a kiss on his shoulder, and a finger, it's so much more beyond that.

It's how bundles of something so silky but light, hazy like a misty gas, floats up all around them and nearly suffocates Bucky like the only thing that will provide him air now is either the oxygen he steals from Sam's very lungs when they kiss, or whenever his body goes against him and makes some keening sound born from pure wanton roots.

It's how it's Sam whose above him, whose just barely in him but all around and fuck-

Bucky doesn't want it to stop, not now, but he can't verbalize such without the looming and inevitable fact that his voice will come out all weathered, worn out with need, and strained because he doesn't even want to fully acknowledge just how much he wants this, wants Sam.

He wants Sam for so many reasons, not even ones related to the way timid arousal sneaks up his spine when Sam's finger crooks itself within him. He wants Sam because his laugh is great and his smile is beyond nice, and because the man's presence always tends to fill this unexplainable hole that metaphorically rests in him, even if he can sometimes physically feel it empty and fill as Sam comes and goes.  But now he's here, fully here, and there doesn't have to be anymore awkwardly dancing around any bush or any saying goodbye when Bucky doesn't actually want to. Because now there's no fear, it's only full acceptance, because he wants Sam and Sam wants Bucky.

Bucky would probably have never predicted this be the way events unfold between them. He must've been breaking his own heart, it seems, previously convincing himself it wasn't possible Sam could ever return the unlabeled jar of emotions that Bucky held for the man. Only to find out he did, in fact, feel the same, and it's easy to dive into the deep end of it with Sam as he sets his palm on Bucky's bare chest, his other hand making Bucky tense, caught up in the gradually building bliss that grows out from his stomach all throughout his body with each touch, with each nerve that melts just from Sam.

"This-" Bucky starts, but there's too many words to describe, none of them fit the way he wants, and his head fumbles, tripping over itself and the language dies on his tongue as he sucks in a sharp breath, a sudden jolt of pleasure catching him off guard for a moment, and he just looks helplessly at Sam, wordlessly asking him for anything he'll give him, any more, and hoping Sam understands the message he's trying to send with just the use of his eyes.

"We coulda been like this sooner if you- if I, you know," Bucky says, well tries to, anyways, and his hand flexes on Sam's shoulder, adjusting to two fingers, and he ends up failing to entirely conceal the groan of approval that tumbles from his lips. "If I wasn't so..." what's the word. "Awkward."

Sam sniffs, almost like his attempt at an affectionate laugh when he's clearly distracted, but nonetheless he shifts, blinking down at Bucky and shaking his head. "Now don't try and somehow blame something on you right now. It's not- well, things just have a place and a time, and it took a minute for ours to come."

Bucky naturally wants to argue, he knows he's great at that, at constantly quipping back and denying whatever Sam is saying. But now, now he can't, because Sam said it wasn't his fault, and he has to believe him here, his words sincere, he's serious, too. It makes Bucky's head spin as the consideration sinks into him, underneath his skin, and swells up in his chest.

Because of course Sam's like this, of course he's never stopped caring for Bucky and continues to show it again and again and it has Bucky crumbling in a way pleasant way, in the way where when most people would hear how Bucky describes himself coming apart bit by bit, they might be concerned. But that's because they do not know it's in a good way, it's in the best way, and he means it as in he's falling for Sam. He's falling for him and he can't do anything about it and never will be able to and he's become greatly okay with this reality because- because-

"I love you," Bucky whispers, out of his head, maybe, but he means it, and for a second it scares him. It terrifies him to his very core and he's naked even beyond the literal form, and staring at Sam who falters for a second like the three words he's announced into the space between him have hung themselves from Sam's ears and tried to drag him down. But then he carries, picks himself back up, and smiles, beaming, and Bucky soaks in the light.

"I love you, too."

And it gets marked as one of the best things Bucky's ever heard, of course.

Note: I'm not a usual smut writer and besides this short thing I've only written only one other sambucky thing- so I'm still new to this ship but nevertheless I love it. The other thing I'm still working on, it's a longer one shot, hopefully I may finish it soon, it's a joy to write