Steve and Bucky's six year old walking in on them having sex
Voila! Your wish is my command, Anonned Friend. -Raya
While Steve didn’t regret having his daughter–absolutely not– there certainly were a few aspects of his former, pre-parenting lifestyle that he missed, from time to time. For example, back before Winnie was born, moments of time alone came about far more easily, if he wanted it, and, around the house, there wasn’t nearly as much shit to clean up after work, but…Well, those were both fairly insignificant compared to what was really going through Steve’s mind. Honestly, if he was being entirely transparent, the thing Steve missed most was the sex.
…Did that make him shallow? Whatever. You’ve gotta’ understand, parenthood was a dream come true, but, before Winnie, he and Bucky were able to do whatever they wanted wherever they wanted to without having to concern themselves with curious eyes or urgent juice box catastrophes. Nowadays, however, intimacy had to be scheduled days in advance amidst a sea of playdates, dance recitals, work commitments and– you get the drift. It sucked, alright? Ergo, naturally, Steve had thought they could both benefit from a bit of spontaneity being reintroduced into their lives! Winnie was six, now, and could sleep through the night; they could keep things quiet enough to avoid waking her, right? It was a fun idea. So, after tucking her in– and leaving a good, twenty-minute buffer time in order for her to fall asleep–Steve cornered Bucky in their bedroom and made quick work of settling atop the Alpha’s lap.
“Stevie, what’re you doing?” Bucky allowed a small grin to quirk at the corner of his lips as the familiar, warm weight of his mate straddled his thighs, “Thought we had to get up early tomorrow for that parent-teacher meeting.”
“Are you really telling me you’re gonna’ shove me off for an extra twenty minutes of sleep?”
Knitting his brows together and mirroring their daughter’s trademark pout–’She gets it from you, kiss up,’ Steve told him on a regular basis–Bucky countered, “You say that like it won’t be the best damn twenty minutes of your life.”
Steve leaned down, ghosting his lips over his mate’s neck and flashing a small smirk of his own. “I dunno’ about that. You talk a big game, Barnes. Why don’t you prove it to me?”
“Consider it done. I’m about to rock your world, maybe give you that second kid we’ve been talking about.” Bucky beamed and Steve felt his heart thud impatiently against his ribs. Strong, calloused hands slithered underneath the light fabric of Steve’s t-shirt and a small whine slipped from his lips. This had been a good idea; he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed feeling Bucky’s hands on him until just now. How had he managed to go so long in the first place? Fuck.
Hastily–they could take things slow when Winnie was spending next weekend with Auntie Becca– the pair exchanged fervent, sloppy kisses, pieces of clothing being haphazardly discarded along the way until, soon, Steve found himself bare and panting, a thick cock nudging itself in-between his slick-coated thighs. Bucky rocked his hips upwards, causing a jolt of pleasure to lick up Steve’s spine like a livewire.
“Oh, fuck…” He murmured, tongue darting out to wet his lips as Bucky’s teeth grazed over his collar. “This was definitely a good idea.”
It was euphoric, being spread open and filled again after going so long without and Steve couldn’t stop the quiet groan that was pulled from his throat once he began raising and lowering his hips in time with Bucky’s own. His mind was a mess–thoughts muddled and obscured by lust and affection–and, in all honesty, both of them had been far too distracted to hear the quiet sound of small knuckles rapping at the door until it was too late. The familiar creak of the bedroom door opening filled his ears and Steve felt his blood run cold. No, no, no, no–Fuck! See? This is exactly why spontaneity was a bad thing! This was a bad idea. A terrible idea and–Why the hell was Bucky snickering? Narrowing his eyes at the Alpha, Steve set a stabilizing hand down against his chest and scrambled to cover them both with the nearest sheet just in the knick of time.
“Daddy!” Winnie pouted and poked her head through the doorway, small tears bubbling up in the corner of her eyes and pink cheeks puffed out in a way that twisted at Steve’s heartstrings just right. Dark, sleep-tangled curls framed her face and a pair of bright, blue eyes were stretched wide with confusion. “I had a nightmare and I–I wanted Daddy to come read me a story,” She explained, shuffling from one foot to the other and holding her stuffed giraffe–Gerald, he was called–close to her chest. “Will you?”
Almost instantaneously, Steve’s expression softened and the blond nodded his head. Sex could wait–after all, they were going to be alone next weekend or they might be able to squeeze it in on Thursday afternoon. Winnie was most important–always–after all. It was a little bit of a blow when Bucky had been requested over him–Which one of them snuck extra Oreos into her lunch? Steve, thank you very much–but he wasn’t going to make a quip about that right then. Instead, he gave a gentle smile and cleared his throat softly before speaking, “Yeah, baby, of course. Can you go back to your room for a minute? He’ll be right in, I promise.”
Winnie seemed hesitant but, soon, a toothy smile spread across her cheeks and she nodded, eagerly toddling back across the hall with Gerald in tow.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Steve tried not to mourn, too much, over his bad luck. After all, it was part of the job description, right? Still, though, the quiet snickers falling from Bucky’s lips weren’t helping the situation any. “You jerk!” He huffed, giving the man a playful swat against his chest before he managed to climb off of him. “Stop laughing. This isn’t funny! We probably scarred that poor girl for the rest of her life.”
Bucky grinned, not at all apologetic, and set about pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms, “C'mon, Stevie, you can’t be too pissed. She’s six! You really think she’s gonna remember this? Besides, she didn’t see anything and, if she did, she probably thought we were just sharin’ a grown-up hug.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to his mate’s cheek. “Still gonna’ let me give you that second one?”
“Who the hell taught her the phrase ‘grown-up hug’?.” Steve thought it over, mulling Bucky’s question over in his mind, giving a fond roll of his eyes, and allowing a smirk to grace his lips. He clicked his tongue quietly against the roof of his mouth before he answered. “If you get a lock installed on our bedroom door and promise not to tell this story at Thanksgiving, then I think you’ve got yourself a deal, Barnes.”
“Yeah?” Bucky grinned, “Well, Consider it done, but…There’s no way you’re stoppin’ me from tellin’ it on Easter.”