Oh, God - the way Steve moans, the way it feels rumbling through Bucky's dick, the way Steve's hands dig into his thighs like they're gonna leave bruises... it's fucking intoxicating, every inch of him feeling utterly overwhelmed, overstimulated, like he's drowning in the very best of ways. The fingers in Steve's hair tighten desperately, but he can't really bring himself to pull Steve back or off, so between his hand on the tree and his hand in Steve's hair, Bucky's mostly just hanging on for dear life.

And then he seems to get a reprieve - as Steve pulls back, Bucky's gasping for breath, too, chest heaving as he blinks open eyes that barely want to focus, trying to center Steve in his field of view, trying to open his mouth to say something, anything, like, Yeah, okay, let's take a breather, maybe you should -

The words die, unspoken, in the back of his throat, because Steve dives right back in and fuck, fuck, Bucky doesn't know how he's going to last like this - he's going to go off like a fucking teenager (although at least, to his credit, a lot of that is due to the sap, even if he doesn't know it). "Steve" he tries again, fingers digging into Steve's scalp, his other hand digging deep furrows in the bark and his brain working overtime to form words even as his hips jerk and strain against the grip Steve has him in. His toes are curling, his body's on fire in the best way, he doesn't think he's come this fast in his life since he first figured out how to do it but fucking hell, Steve's got him there. "Steve, honey, you gotta - fuck -"