Sam keeps trying. Doesn't give up, doesn't give in. Bucky will have to work a lot harder if he eventually wants Sam pliant and boneless beneath him, mewling with pleasure. In the meantime, Sam will fight him every step of the way.

He refuses to acknowledge it makes this the best damn sex he's had in ages.

Panting with exertion, Sam doesn't know how long they've been going at it - long, entirely too long - before the loud ringing of his office phone breaks the soundscape of growling and panting and the wet slide of skin on skin. Sam tries to tug free, to reach for it. Can't - Bucky holds him too tight.

They both hear the message on the answering machine in Tony Stark's chipper voice: "Sam, hot stuff, something important came up and I'm afraid I cannot keep your sweet ass company tonight. I know I know. Big apologies, yadda yadda, the whole nine yards. You get it. Be a dear and buy yourself something nice on my card. I'll pick you up for dinner tomorrow at 6. Wear something slutty."

The hangs up.

Sam stares at the phone in wide eyed disbelief. Tony's off the table for tonight. And that means...

He can feel the rising glee radiating off of the werewolf knotted inside of him.

"Fuck."