"It's the best one. We'll watch it at some point." Seriously, who is providing Bucky with his 21st Century education? Joaquin just wants to talk.

Joaquin shakes his head, taking a step closer into Bucky's space. "You might be a little old fashioned but you're time definitely hasn't ended." He didn't even really get a time to have it. Between the war and HYDRA and everything else. "You just need to give yourself permission to just... be you. Whoever that is now. And he's allowed to want things. Maybe they aren't so out of reach, either."

The whole world drops away for just a moment when Bucky leans in and kisses him and the only thing Joaquin knows is the heat of the body in front of him. It's so easy to melt into it, one hand finding Bucky's hip and the other curling around the back of his neck gently, not trying hold to him in place, just holding on.

He's pretty certain his brain completely short circuits because he wants this but he'd almost given up hope of having it. At least, he had until Bucky showed up at his door and then that hope had sparked back to life, even if he wanted to pretend it hadn't.

When the kiss breaks, Joaquin presses his forehead against Bucky's, brushing their noses together. His fingers are tangled gently in the hair at the back of Bucky's neck, blunt nails scratching gently at his scalp. He opens his mouth to say something but the words fail, a soft laugh taking their place before he leans in to kiss him again.

They should finish making dinner or at least put stuff away or maybe talk about what the actually want here, any of them would be a good idea but none of them involved Joaquin having his hands on Bucky and so none of them are things he even really wants to think about.

He's content to stand here and make out in the kitchen but there are also far better places to do that too so, when he pulls away to breathe, hands still resting against Bucky's body because he doesn't wanna go too far, he indicates with his head towards the hallway. "Am I being too forward if I invite you to my room?"

Thankfully there's nothing in the oven so he's able to reach over and turn it off. The uncooked corn and chimichangas sit on the bench, ignored for the time being in favour of stealing another kiss and then taking Bucky's hand to lead him down the hallway towards the room he's claimed as his own.

It's clean and tidy - something he can thank the military discipline for - and carefully decorated. Mostly photos of his family on the dresser, a couple of posters on the wall, some random trinkets from his travels. It's nothing special, but it's home and the bed is comfortable. He doesn't even spare it a glance in favour of tugging Bucky into another soft kiss, backing himself up so he can sit down on the edge of the mattress. "Tell me what you need."

There's absolutely nothing pathetic about Bucky, even if he doesn't see it that way. Softly, Joaquin encourages Bucky to sit beside him on the bed, their thighs touching and he laces the fingers of one hand through Bucky's own.

"I can't decide that for you." He can't and he won't because there's no way he's going to tell the man what he does and doesn't want. It's not consent if there's a chance he's coerced Bucky into it and consent is the most important thing. "Do you want me to touch you? Do you want to touch me? We can just make out, if that's all you want."

Joaquin smiles as Bucky tells him what he wants and he leans in to press another kiss against his lips. It feels almost as if he's rewarding Bucky for using his words and he really needs to not let that thought take hold because that's not what it is at all.

"You can touch me, wherever you want. You can have whatever you want." He means it, goes so far as to take Bucky's other hand and press it against his chest, his own finding Bucky's thigh. "Tell me where you want me."

“You can.” Joaquin is 100% on board with that, with letting Bucky explore his body and, hopefully, letting him explore Bucky’s own body in return.

At the mention of him having never done this with a man, Joaquin feels his own heart rate pick up. It means something, that he’s Bucky’s first. That Bucky chose him and he can’t stop himself from leaning in for another kiss, hand retuning to Bucky’s hair to cup the back of his head.

Pressing his forehead against Bucky’s, he offers a small smile. “Whatever you want, as much as you want. You set the pace. I’m not in a hurry.”

The words aren't even that explicit and yet it's somehow the hottest thing Joaquin has ever heard. He lets out a soft noise and presses as close as he can without actually climbing into the man's lap, nodding minutely so as to not headbutt him.

"Anything you want, cariño." He means it, whatever Bucky wants he can have, Joaquin will give it to him. Contrary to his previous actions, Joaquin pulls away so that he can scoot up the bed and rest against the pillows, indicating for Bucky to follow. "C'mere."

Bucky is all of those things and more and Joaquin's mind is more than a little blown that he's the one Bucky is showing his affections to. If he had the capability to think of anything other than the man leaning over him, he'd probably make a joke about how so many people could only dream of being where he is right now.

It's easy enough to spread his thighs and make room for the other man between his legs, tugging him closer gently with his own hand in Bucky's hair. Has he pointed out how much he likes that Bucky has let it grow out again? Because he really likes it.

He pushes up into the kiss, smiling against Bucky's lips.

"Dios mio, eres hermoso."

Joaquin lets out a noise of his own when Bucky settles between his legs and he bends one knee, his own thigh pressed to Bucky's hip. The soft sound is not lost on him and Joaquin can't help but tug again on his hair again, only a smidge rougher than before, testing, letting Bucky deepen the kiss with another quiet moan.

His right hand finds Bucky's shoulder, the metal firm under his grip and he pulls the other man further down onto him before trailing his hand down his back to grip the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up just a bit, questioning. "Can I?"

Oh. Oh. That is interesting. He does it again, just to get Bucky to make that sound again and the noise sends heat southward. His jeans are tight enough fitting that they're becoming increasingly uncomfortable very quickly and he wouldn't be surprised if Bucky can feel it where they're pressed together.

At the assent, Joaquin doesn't even hesitate, tugging Bucky's shirt up and guiding him away from his own body long enough to pull it over his head, his own following suit a second later so that they're both shirtless.

He takes a moment to marvel, hands trailing from Bucky's shoulders, across his chest and over his stomach, muscles twitching under his fingers. "Mierda, ¿cómo eres real? You are perfect." The only logical thing is to kiss him again, nipping at his bottom lip.

Joaquin moans, louder than he's been so far, and his head drops back for a moment as he gasps in a breath before, pleasure shooting up his spine as Bucky grinds their hips together.

The scars peeking out from around the vibranium arm are gnarly, but other than them, there's not a mark on Bucky's skin, unlike Joaquin's own. Healed burns mottle his shoulder and there's a decent surgical scar in the center of his torso. He doesn't focus on any of that, can't with the way Bucky is touching him and grinding against him, his erection pressed painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

Sprawling back out on the pillows, Joaquin smiles at Bucky, one leg curling around his hips to encourage him forward. God, the things he'd let this man do to him. "Dios mio, the things I would let you do to me, Bucky."