Come see me in my office after work.
Welp, that was it. Bucky had just lost his job. His cushy, 41st story, very own cubicle, grown-up, full health coverage, casual Fridays job.
And all because he hadn’t been watching which message he’d been sending to whom.
Honestly, it was his boss’ fault for messaging him when he was in the bathroom. Okay, he’d been getting nice and hard to take a good dick pic for Star-Spangled Abs on grindr, but that wasn’t the point. He could have been in there taking a dump. But noooooooooooooo. Mr. Nepotism, the boy wonder, the corporate CEO’s son, just had to ask what he was doing away from his desk for five minutes. And instead of texting back ‘be right there,’ he had gotten tangled up in his shorts and accidentally sent the dick pic. To his boss.
Bucky spent the rest of the day packing up his desk into one of those sad cardboard boxes so that he’d be ready when Stark pink-slipped him at the end of the day. Goodbye, magnetic teddy bear. Goodbye, air plant inside a seashell. Goodbye, highest Tetris score ever. He’d never be slacking at this desk again.
Overtime wasn’t mandatory at Stark Industries, but leaving ‘early’ (read: on time) was frowned upon. Considered ‘not putting forth your full effort’ and guaranteed to lose you your next promotion or raise. So everyone stayed. At least until 7. Obviously, Bucky didn’t need to do that anymore. He didn’t have a job after today. But he did wait, mostly because he didn't want to get fired for sending the boss a dick pic in front of people. He didn’t want to have to explain why he was leaving with everything on his desk in a cardboard box. He didn’t want to have those awkward ‘we’ll keep in touch’ conversations with people he clearly would not be keeping in touch with anymore.
Finally, everyone but the janitor and the gremlins in the server room were gone, so he left the box on his desk (just in case) and made his way to the boss’ office at the end of the rows and rows of cubicles. The door was open, but it looked like Stark was still working hard in there. Maybe not even expecting him anymore. If Bucky just left, would he forget?
No. No, you did not just forget when an employee texted you a dick pic. Bucky sighed. Stuck his head around the corner. “Hi. Is...this a bad time?”
Stark looked up from whatever he was doing--as far as Bucky could tell, standing, staring at the corner of his office, chewing an expensive-looking pen. He did that over-the-glasses look thing Bucky's high school algebra teacher used to do, and Bucky got chills. “Nope. No, come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”
Make himself comfortable? What the hell kind of mind game was that? Come in, get comfortable, get the sack? Sighing to himself, Bucky plodded in, plopped down in one of the clearly-shorter-on-purpose chairs on the other side of the boss’ desk. Stark took his time joining him, walking slowly around the office, passing behind him--which made Bucky nervous--even shutting the door. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him. They were alone. Surely this wouldn’t take long.
Slowly. Torturously slowly, Stark made his way back to the desk. Was he drawing his hand across the back of Bucky’s chair? He leaned forward, utterly creeped out. Then Stark was sauntering behind his desk, maybe even smirking at him before finally taking a seat.
Bucky couldn’t honestly understand how he'd gotten here. What had he ever done to Stark to end up on his shit list? No other boss had ever texted him and asked why he wasn’t at his desk. It wasn't like he was any less productive than anyone else in this office. He hadn’t been working on a project specifically for or with his boss. There had been absolutely no reason for Stark to check on him.
And yet, this hadn’t been the first time. Usually Bucky was AT his desk when the boss came by. Had to hurriedly minimize his game screen, or turn the monitor to hide the fact he was taking quizzes and checking out profiles on OKCupid. Make inane small talk until the guy went back to his office, then gossip with his cubicle neighbors about why the boss had come by, exchange conspiracy theories until the next water cooler or coffee break.
Apart from that, Bucky had never even spoken to the guy. But if he thought about it, Stark seemed to have always had it out for him. In more than one meeting, he’d caught the boss staring at him. Bucky had played it off, just smiled nervously when their eyes had met, but it was weird. Why would Stark be staring at HIM in a meeting of like 12 different guys, where he wasn’t even the speaker?
Maybe he’d been planning this all along, just waiting for Bucky to screw up, do something he could be fired for. Well, he’d certainly given him that today. He came out of his reverie to find two tumblers with ice on his boss’ desk, and Stark leaning over, filling them from his special crystal decanter of aged scotch. What is this? A farewell drink? Fine. At least he got something out of this.
“You know why I called you here?” he said casually, pouring the last dollop into the second glass. It wasn’t a question, it was an invitation. He was inviting Bucky to participate in his own termination. That was just evil.
Bucky sighed. He supposed there was just no escaping it. “Because I accidentally sent you a dickpic?” He dropped his voice on the last two words, ran them together, hoping they’d somehow be unintelligible if he said them fast enough, soft enough, high-pitched enough.
Stark seemed to freeze in the middle of putting the stopper back on his Waterford decanter. “Accidentally?”
He looked genuinely surprised. Bucky felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Was this really happening? Could this be happening? Was the guy just messing with him? Or could it possibly be that he thought Bucky had sent the pic on purpose? And if so, then why was he here? Being offered alcohol?
He should have known. Honestly, he should have known. All those times he’d stopped by Bucky’s cubicle to make small talk, ask him about his weekend. The long looks across the boardroom during meetings. And the ass was a sure giveaway. Straight men just did not have asses like that.
Okay, save this one, Bucky. Fix it. Keep your job.
“Accident? Oh no, I meant--did I say accidentally? What I meant to say was...I meant to say uninvited...ly. ‘Because I uninvitedly sent you a *cough*pic. And that’s...I mean, I’ve always felt that consent is real important. So that’s...that was wrong of me. And I apologize. I hope it didn’t offend you.” But he could tell by the disappointed way Stark was holding the decanter that he wasn’t offended.
There was an awkward pause. Stark just sort of hovered there, considering, deciding Bucky’s fate. Was he right? Did Stark like what he saw? Or was Stark fucking with him? The cat swatting the mouse around one last time before he broke its neck, ate it? He set the decanter back on the desk, picked up a glass, held it out to Bucky. Bucky took it automatically.
“You know, Barnes…” He was sauntering back behind his desk. This couldn’t be good. “Something you might not know about me…” He was holding the other glass, gesturing with it as he spoke. “I mean, since you shared something personal about YOURself today, I’m thinking it’s only fair, well. You might want to know something personal about me.”
I’m gay, Bucky prompted, mentally. Please tell me you’re gay. Not that you’re secretly a serial killer who likes to off former employees and stuff their bodies down the garbage chute.
“Something I like to do...well, it’s more of a hobby, I guess…” He was stalking back behind his desk, draping his fingers across the ink blotter...was he reaching for the letter opener? Should Bucky get ready to run? “Something I do quite a bit of in my spare time, and it might surprise you to hear this…”
No, he was walking back around the desk. Oh god, he was coming closer. Where was the letter opener? Wasn’t it just there on the desk?
Stark slowly squatted down at the edge of his chair, looked up at him with sly eyes. Here we go.
“...is suck dick,” he finally finished, allowing Bucky to choose which sort of heart attack he was going to have. The tip of Stark’s tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth, full lips parting for just a moment as he gave Bucky the most wicked of looks over the rims of his glasses. “I just love to suck dick. And yours…” One of his hands was suddenly on Bucky’s knee, sliding slowly up his thigh. “...looked pretty tasty.”
He was on his knees now, bending forward, unfastening Bucky’s belt, reaching for his zipper. “You don’t mind, do you? If I see for myself? I feel like it’s only polite after teasing me with a photo earlier…”
Bucky was in shock. How had he gotten here? In his boss’ office with Stark kneeling down in front of him, practically begging to give him head? Whatever else was going to happen, oral sex was going to fucking happen. Because Bucky was just a man. He wasn't super-human. He couldn’t turn down an offer of oral sex. For free. From...someone who was a good deal more attractive than he'd ever cared to notice before this moment.
Stark opened his pants and tugged down his shorts, reaching for it, casting Bucky a sultry look from behind thick eyelashes. Jesus. How had he never noticed those eyes before? Stark leaned forward, and Bucky could feel his breath, warm, teasing over sensitive skin. He was slowly rising to full mast, his heart pounding. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He hadn’t done anything this kinky since high school. The trouble with serial monogamy was that it led to really boring sex, and except on those really rare occasions where you were in couples therapy and the shrink recommended roleplay or ‘date night’ or mixing it up...you tended to give up on interesting places to have sex rather quickly.
Come to think on it, most people did have weird sex in the office fantasies. But not Bucky. He’d never for a moment considered having sex here, in this prison of grey felt walls. All of his coworkers were the same dockers-wearing, IZOD polo shirt, pocket protector stereotype, none of their faces memorable, none of their bodies worth fantasizing over, like carbon copied mannequins, manufactured to fill the boring grey space of the office.
But now...now Stark was massaging the base of his cock, leaning forward to blow hot air over the tip, extending that wicked tongue to tease the dimple, and he was shaking, surprised by the force of his lust in this unexpected place. Shocked to have found another man into men, that it should be his Armani-suit wearing, no bullshit boss, with the perky ass and the carefully feathered hair and the professionally-manicured fingernails…
Those full lips enveloped him, and Bucky’s eyes widened. Holy shit. Holy shit, my boss is sucking me off. This man with pretty eyes and the ability to destroy my livelihood has my dick in his mouth… And, no joke, he knew what he was doing.
The emotional buildup was enough to send Bucky rocketing upward at an alarming rate. But Stark seemed to sense it, slow down, go back to teasing rather than full-on sucking. Bucky was leaking pre-come like crazy, and Stark was there, lapping up every last drop. Holy shit. What is happening? Hooooooly shit.
After ten minutes of stringing him along, not even a $5000 whore’s skill could keep Bucky from coming, which he did, loudly, getting marks for both distance and volume. And he would never. Ever get out of his head, the spank bank worthy image of his boss, leaning back, milking him over his tongue, taking one shot to the glasses, another to the cheek, and hungrily swallowing every other drop as it spurted out of him. Jesus.
When it was done, Bucky lay on the floor, a pathetic puddle of man, breathing hard, aching in the best possible way, starting to get cold, feeling like the day could not possibly get any better, it could only get worse. “Sorry,” he panted. “It’s...I’m really sorry...been a while...I haven’t really...yeah…”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Stark said, cleaning the come from his face and glasses like a satisfied feline, using his pocket handkerchief to do so before carefully folding it up and returning it to its post as fashion accessory. Once it was back in place, he was reaching for his Blackberry, taking out the stylus and pressing buttons like crazy. He began to pace the office, careful not to step on Bucky, of course. But for a second, Bucky wondered if he’d been forgotten. Back to work, as it were.
“So, now we’ve got the preliminaries out of the way--introductions, established shared interest, proved that we’re worth putting in a little more time-- I’d say we can move on to the next step.”
Next step? What did that mean?
“Now my calendar is pretty full. The next slot of time I’m seeing free for dinner or a movie, or just a good hard fuck in a hotel room of your choice is...April 3rd. Does that work for you?” He glanced down, like Bucky isn’t lying there with his pants around his knees, staring up at the ceiling like a dead rabbit.
“Ummm...I’m not fired?”
Stark seemed to think about this. “Oh, the job thing. Good point. Well, I mean, if you think it’s a problem, I can have dad transfer me to a different branch of the company. No one can complain about favoritism that way.”
“Favoritism?” Bucky’s brain still felt numb.
“Well, I like to give expensive gifts to the guys I fuck. Call me old-fashioned. Maybe I’m too much of a romantic, but I just enjoy it. You don’t have any objections to that, do you?”
Wait, what? Did they have a relationship now? Bucky was so lost. “No?”
“Okay, good. So, look, we don’t have to decide now what we’re doing, but let’s at least pin down the date. I’m sorry it’s so far out. My schedule is just unbelievable. I’m good for a quickie in the executive men’s room, though, if you ever want to have another go at work. I mean, honest, I could use a break now and then, you know what I mean?”
Bucky found himself agreeing without really knowing what he was agreeing to.
“So I’m gonna add you to my calendar for the third, okay? I’ll send you an invite.”
“Whuh...to Outlook?” This all felt so surreal.
“Yeah. You don’t have any objections, do you? I mean, obviously, I’ll put it in some kind of code. I’ll call it. Hmm, what will I call it? Poker night. How’s that?”
Bucky just whimpered, feeling so left in the dirt by this human whirlwind.
“No? Aw, lookit you, sugar. Did I really leave you that drained? Aren’t you sweet?” He bent down to help Bucky get his clothing back in order, and Bucky couldn’t help but apologize. He didn’t deserve this. How did this even happen?
“Thanks. I mean...sorry. Sorry for all this. You’re really good. That was...amazing.”
Stark smirked, standing up again, leaning on the desk. “Oh, honey, that’s nothing. Wait till you taste my ass.” Bucky couldn’t help looking at it, now they were talking about it. And he wondered…
Stark rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. You’re in my calendar now, angel face.”
“Yeah, that was my code name for you. I bet you didn’t know. Well, it was. I like to name my marks…” He sauntered back around his desk, subtly pushing out that perky behind. It made Bucky want to do things. Things you should not be doing to your boss.
“Are you really going to transfer?” he wanted to know. Surely that had been a joke, right? Nobody would change jobs just to go on one date with him.
“Sure, if that’s what it takes.” It didn’t seem to be a big deal to Stark. “Truth be told, though, sugar, I’d much rather stay in the same office as you.” He smiled, and Bucky’s heart skipped several beats. “Sure is nice to be able to look out and see a pretty face I’d like to sit on every day.”
Bucky pulled himself up, using the chair. His legs were slowly remembering how to work. “If that’s what you want...I don’t see what you’re waiting for,” he said bravely. “We’re alone here.” He gestured at the surrounding offices. “What’s stopping you?”
Tony smirked. “You really are cute. Look at you, trying to seduce me when we’re so clearly done here. The audition is over, sweetcheeks. You got the part. You don’t have to keep going.”
What the hell? Control issues much? “Well. What if I want to?” Bucky asked, stubborn.
Stark perched on the edge of his desk. Took a sip of scotch. Continued to smirk at Bucky over the rims of his glasses. “Well you’re a regular little spitfire, aren’t you, Barnes?”
“Quit calling me Barnes,” Bucky said. “It’s weird.”
“Alright...James,” Stark’s grin widened.
“Actually.” He winced a little. That’s what she had called him. “My friends call me Bucky.”
“Bucky?!” Stark had that particular light in his eyes that said he was going to make many a joke out of Bucky's nickname. “A grown man who goes by Bucky? Seriously? That’s so retro! That’s so 50s! I love it!”
“What?” Was he being made fun of or not?
“It’s adorable! But…” He actually stroked his chin, thinking about it. “Is it a name to shout during sex...hmmm…”
“You know what?” Bucky was out of his chair, walking around the desk before he could think better of it. “We can find out right now.”
“Oo, so forceful,” Stark grinned. But Bucky could tell he wasn't taking him seriously. He was humoring him, like some sort of purse dog.
“I mean…” Bucky started to lose his nerve once he was standing in front of Stark. He'd never realized it was so hard to bang your boss before. “I can be.” He reached out tentatively, placing one hand on Stark’s waist. “But mostly I just...wanna know what I have to look forward to in April.”
Stark did that flirtatious thing with his eyes again, cocked a hip. He was a master of seduction, this one. Truly just toying with Bucky. “That sneak preview wasn’t enough for you?”
“No,” Bucky said gruffly, because honest...he felt like he needed to step up so that Stark would stop treating him like a boy toy he picked up at the office. He tugged Stark close, one hand in the small of his back. Only now...he didn’t really know what to do. He sensed this was not a kissing time. There had been no kissing earlier. This was strictly fucking. He’d done that before. He wasn't a fan of it, but he’d done it. Who hadn’t cruised a little in his day? “I wanna see it,” he said softly, tugging at Stark’s belt.
“See what?” Stark teased.
“Your ass,” Bucky said, sliding one hand over Stark’s hip, drifting over the swell. “It’s so great, I wanna see it.” He leaned in, almost kissed Stark--whoops, force of habit--kept going, put the other hand on his ass, too. And, wow. It felt nice. He rested his cheek against Stark’s shoulder, just groping his ass for a few seconds.
“Having fun back there?” Stark asked, amused, maybe even bored.
“Yeah.” Bucky sighed. It was a nice ass. It had been a while for him. A nice ass was more than he could have hoped for.
“So are you just gonna keep teasing me, or what?” he asked. Bucky had gotten lost in some sort of ass-worshiping reverie. Suddenly he returned to the present.
“Hm?” Bucky was bleary-eyed.
“Are you gonna fuck me or what?”
Bucky blinked. Suddenly office supplies were flying this way and that, there was a scramble of limbs as Stark hopped up on the desk and Bucky struggled with his belt, unfastening his pants, pulling them down out of the way. His own were easier, just zip, pull, yank. “Oh god,” Stark looked down at him. “Already hard again. I think I might love you.”
“Shut up,” Bucky told him gruffly, manhandling him into position. “Shut up and lift those hips. Spread that ass. God, yeah.” Unable to wait, he dove down for a taste, gripping one cheek in each hand and doing some exploring with his tongue. It did taste unusually non-asslike. Bucky was sort of curious how he managed that, but then Tony started to moan, and he felt a biological need to make more of those noises happen. He started to eat Stark’s ass in earnest, penetrating him with his tongue, and sliding one hand around the front to tease his cock.
“Oh, you minx! You little tease!” Stark was writhing under his ministrations. “I should have known you were this type...playing innocent until the last possible second...oh, do me,” he whimpered. “Put it in me, I can’t wait.”
Bucky started with fingers, because it was just polite until you knew what a gaping whore your partner was. Stark took it pretty easy without lube, but Bucky stretched him anyway. It was just good manners. Then he came up for air, nudged his cock up into position, started to ease forward, gripping Stark’s hips and rocking in with one smooth thrust after another.
“Stop!” Stark cried, impatient. “I said fuck me, not make love like it’s my first time!”
That sort of pissed Bucky off. Was he determined to be the boss even in this? He reached up to grip Stark by the hair with one hand, and not gently, forced him face-down onto the desk. Then he thrust, hard and deep, sheathing himself almost all the way in one motion.
“Yeah,” Stark sighed. “More like that. Harder.”
So Bucky did. Hard and fast over the desk, forcing Stark to scramble for purchase, papers awaiting approval fluttering to the floor this way and that. “Take it!” Bucky growled. “Fucking take it, you bossy little slut. Taking my big dick dry. I may not be your first, but I can damn well be your last.”
“Awfully sure of yourself,” Stark smirked. Which Bucky only took as a challenge, ratcheting up the pace.
“You’re gonna think about tonight, and you’re gonna want more of this. Just wait.”
“You s-sure?” Oh, he was trying to sound unaffected, but Bucky thought he had him now. He shifted for a slightly different angle, and there it was, Stark was gasping with every thrust, gripping the edge of the desk for dear life, and as soon as Bucky touched his dick, he came all over the desk, his starched shirt, silk tie, and of course, Bucky’s suddenly sticky fingers.
“Oh, fuck!” Damn that was hot.
Stark moaned, almost sounding like he was in pain. “Stop fucking me, you animal! Just come!”
But Bucky was not about to come just because his boss told him to. He gripped Tony by the hips and plowed him, feeling Stark’s body relax against the desk. He vaguely started to wonder if Stark was okay. “You bitch,” he whispered to his lone swingline stapler, perched precariously at the edge of the desk. “You animal. Fucking hate you. Come inside me.”
For a second, Bucky wasn't sure he'd heard Stark correctly. One of those sentences was not like the other. But he said it again, louder this time. “Nnnn, come inside me, angel. Wanna feel your hot come in my ass. Fill me up from both ends, sweet thing. Don’t hold back.”
Bucky started to sweat. It was hard to hold back with Stark saying filthy shit like that. Even if he wanted to… And then that perky ass was clenching around him, causing Bucky to gasp and thrust harder, nearing completion very quickly.
He cried out when he finally came, feeling Stark’s velvet heat go slippery with come. He kept thrusting until he was empty, starting to slide out. Bucky ended up just collapsing on Stark on top of his desk.
“For such a slender guy, you’re kind of heavy, you know that?”
Bucky might have moved, but he seemed to have lost all the bones in his body. He just grunted in response. “I like how quickly that escalated.” Stark chattered on like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “But I have to tell you, showing me what you can do with that big cock isn’t going to get you a date before April 3rd, I just can’t possibly squeeze you in any earlier.” He reached back to slide one hand over Bucky’s sweat-slick hip. “It will, however, create a mandatory after work meeting every night this week, along with a fifteen minute head break around 3pm. I’ll give you the key to the executive lounge. Don’t wear underwear.”
Bucky was tingling just thinking about it, which was impressive considering how exhausted he was right now.
“Alright, my steno pool stallion. That’s all we have time for tonight.” He was skillfully sliding out from under Bucky, grabbing a gym towel to wipe the sweat off, and walking to a hidden closet in the far wall to grab a change of shirt and tie. Getting dressed in the most casual way. Bucky watched him, exhausted, kind of impressed how fast he could shake it off.
“Can I have it?” he asked, reaching out one hand.
Stark wrinkled his nose. “What, the shirt?” He snorted a laugh. “Baby, it’s yours.” He balled it up and tossed it at Bucky’s head. “Now don’t go getting sentimental on me already. It’s not even our first date yet, and I don’t like clingy. You get clingy and we’re done, you get me?”
Bucky scowled, levering himself up and gripping the balled up fabric tightly. “I just wanna know what your come smells like.” He buried his face in the pheromones for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Get over yourself.”
“Mmhmm.” Stark didn’t sound convinced. “Alright, now grab your things and run along. You don’t want me to get tired of you so soon.”
Sullen, Bucky grabbed his clothes and opened the door, intending to storm out naked and get dressed in his cubicle. “Ah-ah-ah!” Tony chided, wrapping arms around him and pulling him back in. “Wouldn’t want to scare the cleaning lady now, would we?”
Actually, at this point, Bucky didn’t care. He’d gone from fearing for his job, to being angry he didn’t mean anything to the guy he'd just drilled through the floor. “Aw, look at that face,” Stark cooed. “Don’t frown like that, cupcake. You’re so much prettier when you smile.”
“Fuck you,” Bucky grumped, pulling his shorts on.
“Tomorrow,” Stark promised. “Three o’clock. Don’t be late.” With that, Stark went back to work, slowly putting his office back together and starting to make phone calls. Bucky tried to pick his dignity out of the waste basket and leave somewhat intact. But Stark completely ruined that by grabbing him on his way out the door--on the phone with the China office, no less--and kissing him on the cheek, simultaneously pressing a slip of paper into his hand.
When he got to the elevator, Bucky unfolded it. ‘My cell,’ Stark had written, and then the number, along with
Don’t wait for the next one to send by accident. I’m an insomniac, and jerking off helps me fall asleep.
Bucky just blinked at it, missed the elevator, had to press the button again. Who the hell was this guy? And why was his heart rate increasing at the thought of taking more dirty pictures to send him?