Work Text:
He’s addicted.
Once he gets the taste of Sam’s mouth on his, he finds himself craving it. Yearning for it, even.
And he’s in a mood because they’re about an hour deep into some bullshit meeting that has Bucky’s head swimming with all the technical talk and boring mumbo jumbo that he so wishes he could just cut off with a snicker or a snort, but he can’t because he was told this morning to be good, followed by a chaste kiss and now, as Bucky watches Sam from across the table, sitting idly as he nods and hums and plays the part of a good Avenger, Bucky wishes he could fuck being good and just take what he wants.
“—so with crime levels in lower Manhattan levelling out, I really think that—”
Sam must feel his gaze on him because he turns his head to face Bucky. His brows are instantly drawn into a frown and Bucky realises he must be wearing his expression pretty clearly. He’s bored. He hates everyone in here save for one of them and he just to be a greedy, selfish asshole and keep him to himself.
Still, going by the manifest that’s plastered on the screen in front of him, they probably have another hour left of this mindless droning on, so any plans to get the hell out of here, maybe make out in some secluded hallway and run his hands under Sam’s shirt are shot to hell.
But he manages to catch the corner of Sam’s mouth twitch upwards and Bucky feels his heart race.
In the midst of the lecture being given out, Sam stands, pulling the focus of the room on him.
“Um. I just– bathroom?”
He’s given the go ahead and Bucky watches Sam leave the room.
He smiles to himself as the meeting continues.
“—so if we look at these chart numbers here…”
Bucky gives it a good ten minutes and then he excuses himself, not waiting for anyone to give him a suspicious look or to stop him altogether.
He’s got a craving to satisfy.