art by Riakomai [LINK TO TUMBLR]
Steve had been firm. Bucky’s calves were tied down to his thighs to keep his legs folded tightly under him. With his arms tied together behind him and knees spread apart, there was nothing to stop Steve from handling Bucky however he saw fit. And Steve didn’t hesitate to make his desires clear; with Bucky he wouldn’t hold back, especially after today. Steve had pulled out the old barrack box almost as soon as he got in the door. His hands were as steady as ever as he used their good hemp rope to tie Bucky down: nothing showy, just knots over knots over knots until the stress points were all reinforced and Bucky was wrapped up tightly in a simple but effective pattern.
Red marks blossomed on Bucky’s skin as Steve laid a dozen strikes up one of Bucky’s thighs with the crop. He paused to assess the effect, and then laid a dozen strikes down the other in a neat mirror of the first. Steve -- ever the perfectionist -- liked the symmetry of it, the orderliness. Bucky liked the searing, perfect pain that pushed every other thought out of his head.
Bucky rocked back against the plug Steve had worked into him. His cock twitched, hopeful. “I--”
“Did I say you could talk?”
Bucky shuddered as Steve ran the leather tongue of the crop over his thighs. The welts were starting to come up, bright red and shocking against the bluish-pale skin of his legs. The uniform kept him covered from his chin down to his toes; neither of them spent much time in the sun anymore.
Bucky strained against the rope. It held. He shook his head.
“No.” Steve said, agreeing. The crop slipped between Bucky’s legs. Bucky tensed as Steve slid the tab under his balls. Steve lifted them slightly, just enough to feel their weight -- just enough to make known the implicit threat.
Implicit was never enough for Bucky. “Steve, I--” and the rest was a choked-off cry as the tab end landed sharply against his balls. Bucky jerked backwards instinctively but the ropes caught him, held him pinned in place by Steve’s side. Steve had tied him good and tight.
Bucky let out a strangled groan. The enormous, ridged plug Steve had started working into his ass was slippery with lube. He wanted to shove himself back onto it, fill himself with it. Let it stretch him out wide and maybe Steve would--
“Yes?” Steve’s hand wound tight into his hair. Bucky nodded, greedy for the bright burning pain of it. “Hold still then.”
Steve knew him well enough not to hold back. The first strike fell solidly on the left side of his balls, the next on his right. A quick set of three blows right against the center rocked him back onto his heels and down onto another ridge of the plug. He let out a startled gasp at the stretch of it. Steve took it as invitation and picked up his tempo, flogging Bucky’s balls with the crop until he had to grit his teeth to hold back the sounds trying to escape from his mouth.
Bucky counted to fifteen, sixteen, seventeen and then lost track as Steve shifted his attention to the delicate skin behind Bucky’s balls. Steve’s strikes fell precisely along the midline. This was familiar territory for him; Steve had years of practice and knew exactly where to land his hits for maximum impact. Steve knew his target inside and out: tied up and edged, with Steve looming over him still half in his field uniform blacks like a particularly vengeful shadow, Bucky was what S.H.I.E.L.D. analysts would call a ‘soft target’.
Steve worked his way backwards to where Bucky’s ass was stretched tight around the huge plug. His sensitive rim was pulled too tight to react to the touch of the crop, but the rest of him was starting to shake under the strain. Steve paused to spread Bucky’s legs open wider, targeting the sensitive skin to either side of his stuffed hole.
Bucky knew from experience that he bruised up easily there, and he guessed his ass would be black and blue by the time Steve was satisfied. His dick throbbed. Bucky bit down on the inside of his cheek to stay quiet as Steve systematically beat his thighs, his balls, his ass, right up to the edge of his hole.
The plug was murder. Bucky couldn’t help tensing up at each blow, and Steve timed his strikes so Bucky recovered enough to relax a bit before the next hit landed. It meant he was clenching rhythmically around the plug, squeezing it internally like he was milking the damn thing. The net effect was to pull the plug deeper into his ass, where it nudged against his prostate and worked him up even more. Steve had got it made special just for him: hard and glossy like the red star on his arm no amount of scrubbing or solvent had been able to remove. Even tied up on his knees, Bucky had seen the tell-tale flash of red when Steve pulled it out of the box he kept under the bed. It’d meant Steve had a plan. Which was fine. Good, even. If anything could burn him clean it was this, it was Steve.
Steve tapped the crop at the taut rim of Bucky’s ass. Bucky’s skin came up in goose bumps in anticipation, even though there was no force yet behind the touch. Steve circled the tab end of the crop around Bucky’s hole, giving Bucky time to think about just how much it was going to hurt once he got going. Bucky shivered. The mix of arousal and fear and pain was just -- it got to the core of him, flayed him open til he was raw and exposed like nothing else ever did.
A sudden hard blow landed right against the rim of his hole. Bucky let out a shout of surprise before getting himself under control again. He was stretched out so tight and sensitive there. It hurt, it was excruciating; it burned like fire and electricity fused together and multiplied ten-fold. His nerve endings were so sensitized by arousal and fear that every touch there felt magnified a hundred times the rest of his skin.
Bucky struggled to keep his breathing even as Steve hit him again and again, landing surgical strikes against the most fragile parts of him. Steve beating his thighs and ass was nothing compared to this. He’d known Steve would push him hard today -- would need to, after what had happened. He’d known it even as he’d stripped out of his uniform with shaking fingers. But this was -- it hurt.
He’d been kneeling on the hardwood floor by their bed for hours by the time Steve got home. The waves of ebbing adrenaline and nausea as the painkillers wore off and his body burned through whatever chemicals he’d been exposed to made him feel like his skin was crawling right off of him, just picking up and leaving like the alien-looking sea creatures he’d seen up close and personal in those tanks. It hurt worse than the actual explosion had, and the explosion had levelled the whole damned warehouse. The hours of medical and debrief afterwards had been an eternity, and the statement S.H.I.E.L.D. made him give -- probably better left unsaid. Public opinion was a fickle beast; Bucky knew that better than anyone. He had to press his hands against the floor to stop them shaking.
Then Steve had come home. He hadn’t even bothered to take his boots off before pulling coil after coil of rope out of their hiding spot. Bucky had wanted to cry from relief at the first touch of it on his skin.
And now he was here. Steve paused to touch a finger to the head of Bucky’s cock. The slit was leaking pre-come against his belly, smearing wetness over his stomach when he twitched and jerked under Steve’s hands. Steve still had his tactical face on. He was so intent and calculating when he got like this; Bucky knew the outcome was inevitable. Nothing ever beat Agent Rogers.
Bucky’s skin prickled with sweat. He spread his legs fractionally wider in invitation.
Steve looked at Bucky as if he was reading an instruction manual typed out on the insides of his ribs, like his skin was transparent. “You want more.” It wasn’t a question.
Bucky nodded, knowing he must look halfway to wrecked already. “Yes, I--”
Steve’s traced a finger down the length of Bucky’s cock, then wrapped a hand around his balls.
Steve tugged downwards.
Bucky inhaled sharply. “God--”
“No, just me,” Steve said as he bore down harder, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Bucky stifled a shriek as the pain surged up through him. “But same difference for you I guess.”
It continued. Steve kept kneading at his balls, twisting and squeezing each testicle between his thumb and fingers far too hard for it to be really pleasurable. The deep ache of it spread through Bucky’s gut like a grease fire. He squirmed on the plug, tried to still himself and take it, but his body was restless. He’d had enough practice he should know by now -- how to swallow the pain, let it flow around him and through him unchanged -- but Steve made it hard for him. Steve was generous, Steve pushed him right to the edge of what he could take.
Sweat pooled behind Bucky’s knees. His thighs trembled with the effort of staying still, the big muscles cramping and not entirely under his control. It hurt to be bound so tight with his feet underneath him but his cock was red and stiff from it. He wanted it, he always wanted it so badly, and Steve was right by his side to hold him up when he wavered. The waves of pain from his groin washed over him like the tide, like--
Just as Bucky’s eyes started to drift shut, Steve let go of his balls. Bucky’s breath caught; even the sudden absence of stimulus hurt. Then Steve’s fingers closed around a nipple and pinched down hard.
Bucky reared back from it in surprise and whined, shocked and forgetting about the plug. There was a brief feeling of relief as it popped in past another bulge, before it settled at the neck of the next segment and began to stretch him out even farther. It already felt thicker than four of Steve’s fingers together -- how many more did it have to go? Bucky groaned.
Steve pinched and pulled at both of his nipples, mean about it and not hiding his enjoyment as Bucky writhed and twisted under him in a complete failure to escape. Bucky’s nipples fattened up under Steve’s fingers, reddening as they filled with blood. It seemed like Steve’s short fingernails biting into his chest had a direct line to Bucky’s dick. It jerked and drooled at Steve’s rough play, even as Bucky was reduced to panting short breaths through his nose to keep himself from screaming.
It was far too early for him to come. Bucky knew Steve, and the look on Steve’s face when he’d walked in the door meant Steve would beat his ass raw if he came without being told to.
Thinking about it too hard made his dick twitch.
Pre-come pooled in his slit and spilled over, dripping down his shaft towards Steve’s hand. Steve let go of a nipple to circle the exposed head of Bucky’s cock with the tip of his finger. His other hand twisted and stretched Bucky’s nipple away from his chest painfully. Steve even let his nails bite into the edge of it. It hurt, it hurt. But.
“Not enough, is it,” Steve said.
Bucky was breathing far too loud.
“What am I going to do with you?” Steve punctuated his words with an open-palmed slap to Bucky’s face.
His cheek burned. Bucky closed his eyes. Steve idly palmed at the muscle of Bucky’s ass, and then slapped him across the face again. “Well?”
Bucky leaned into him. He licked his lips. “I--”
“Did I tell you to talk? That was rhetorical. I don’t care what you think,” Steve said, but his voice was fond. The next backhanded slap cracked across the side of Bucky’s mouth like a kiss.
Bucky swayed on his knees. “Steve, please.” He tasted blood.
“Please what?” Steve grabbed Bucky by the neck and hauled him in close to Steve’s side. His hand fisted in Bucky’s hair, and he pulled until Bucky’s eyes watered.
Bucky’s lips moved but no sound came out.
“I don’t know why you like to make it so difficult for yourself,” Steve said mildly. He slid the crop back down to Bucky’s balls. “It’s simple. I’ll do whatever I want, and you’ll shut up and thank me for it.”
The leather tab cracked sharply against each of Bucky’s testicles, already sore and swollen from Steve’s fingers. Bucky gasped.
“After all, I don’t need to explain myself.” Steve let his weight rest on Bucky’s shoulder, pushing him down further on the plug. “Why should I waste my breath on a big dumb animal like you?”
His ass ached as it stretched wide to swallow up the next smooth bulge. The base of it had to be at least the size of Steve’s forearm. It was all so much, not enough but so much, he needed--
“Steve,” he started, and then cut himself off. His voice sounded more desperate than he cared for. He swallowed.
Steve grabbed his balls and squeezed until Bucky’s stomach clenched. Steve rolled them in one hand as he spoke.
“D’you remember the summer we went to your aunt’s place upstate?” Steve asked. His mouth was pressed close to Bucky’s cheek.
Bucky nodded. He knelt there beside Steve and breathed, waiting.
“Remember when you let me have you, for the first time really--” and Bucky felt him exhale. Steve’s breath was soft against Bucky’s face.
“Yeah,” Bucky said, sounding raw. He remembered. His arms had been bound behind his back then, too. They’d been left there alone for a whole day because -- he couldn’t remember the exact circumstance, his cousins had gotten sick and their parents had needed to drive them to the doctor or something. Whatever it was, they were alone. And then Steve had looked at him like he was starving and Bucky was a Christmas ham.
They’d talked about it for months, fooled around a little even, but this was different. Something in Bucky felt wild, dangerous. He’d climbed into Steve’s lap, straddled his bony hips and kissed him until he felt drunk with it, nearly ready to burst--
--and Steve had frog-marched him over to the kitchen table. He used Bucky’s own shoelaces to tie his cock down to a wooden board, set with a dozen O-rings along its borders -- Steve must have made it himself for that very purpose, and thinking of the cool-minded premeditation of it all made Bucky’s stomach twist -- and alternately whipped his cock with a switch and edged him until he cried. He’d come onto the floor between Steve’s feet an hour later. Steve had made him lick the floorboards clean.
It had made an impression.
He’d felt like he was walking around in a dream for days afterwards, dazed and relaxed and uncomplicatedly happy. Steve had laughed at him, and tucked him in close every night, fucked him and jerked him off with slick hands until Bucky’s skin buzzed with satisfaction.
“I know we’d fucked before,” Steve said, -- and Bucky remembered that too, thank God, he remembered almost everything they’d taken away from him now -- “But. You were mine, then.”
Bucky twisted around to look Steve in the face, alarmed at Steve’s wording. He started to protest, but Steve’s hand tightened before he got the words out.
“I know you are, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Steve said, shaking Bucky roughly by the hair. “Don’t interrupt.”
Bucky shifted his weight to settle back against Steve. Steve was a warm, solid presence by his side; the heat was pouring off of him in waves. Bucky leaned into him.
“You wanted it so bad you were stupid about it. You let me do whatever I wanted, no questions asked.” Steve’s hand was still kneading his balls. Delicious little arcs of pain sliced up Bucky’s groin. “Right?”
Bucky nodded blindly. He’d follow Steve’s lead anywhere. He’d been written up for it twice in the last six months. S.H.I.E.L.D. had given up trying to force them to operate separately -- wherever Bucky went, there was little Agent Rogers calling the shots.
“So,” Steve said. He smiled at Bucky. The edges of it were sharp. “Want to try something stupid?”
That was dirty pool. Steve had probably planned this out months ago, like any other op, just dreamed up some crazy scenario and waited until Bucky was so wound up he wouldn’t tap out when Steve sprung it on him. Steve was absolutely ruthless when he really wanted something.
Bucky took a second to pull himself together. “Make me,” he said. His voice hardly shook at all.
Steve’s grip tightened in his hair. “Alright,” he promised. “I will.” His mouth brushed over Bucky’s temple.
Steve hit his nipple again, letting the sharp edge of the leather seam land exactly on the sensitive tip. Bucky’s nostrils flared as he held back a shout. He was pinned like a bug: the floor was hard against his knees, but if he shifted any weight back onto his heels the huge plug forced itself farther into his overstretched ass.
Steve squeezed at Bucky’s chest, pinching his nails into Bucky’s nipple where the crop had landed. Bucky’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Steve’s aim was always perfect.
“We’ll take all the time you need, darling. I can do this all day.”
The sharp crack of the crop hitting skin filled the room. Steve flogged him until tears spilled over and streaked down Bucky’s face. His nipples were purple-red and tight, swollen and standing out from his chest. If he hadn’t shucked his uniform as soon as he got through the door they’d be rubbing painfully against the Kevlar-stitched edges of the star, even through his underlayers. Steve grabbed one of his nipples between his fingers and pulled and Bucky curled against him and cried out before Steve switched back to the crop and continued flogging him. The buzzing in Bucky’s head grew steadily louder.
After what seemed like an hour, Steve paused and put down the crop. Bucky didn’t question the sudden reprieve, just took in a few ragged breaths. His skin was covered in fine sheen of sweat and the floor was slippery underneath him. He swayed a little on his knees.
Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s skin, proprietary, like he was checking over a favourite toy. The knots were still tight and even. Bucky ran his tongue over the inside of his teeth. His mouth still tasted like the ocean, salt and organics mixed with spilled diesel and God only knew what orange stuff had been in those tanks. It’d been slippery-smooth and he felt almost heavy in it, totally unlike normal seawater.
Then Steve hit him with what felt like a line of molten fire. Bucky’d had no warning, and he let out a hoarse scream. Steve had exchanged the crop for a short rattan cane that was as thin and flexible and vicious as he was. It would cut like a knife if Steve handled it wrong. Red marks bloomed on the surface of Bucky’s skin, blood-red and hot like he’d been touched with a brand.
Bucky couldn’t stay silent as Steve worked on him with the cane. His strikes fell smooth and even and tireless. Bucky wailed at each lash from the cane, unable to hide his anguish as Steve painted a cross-hatched pattern over the tops of Bucky’s thighs and belly and chest. They formed a grid of perfect lines over Bucky’s skin, parallel and perpendicular, like he’d been stamped made-to-order in a factory. Steve was unfailingly exact.
It burned. The pain of it was better than anything, better than everything. Bucky was on fire. His cock dripped steadily onto the floor. Bucky’s breath came in hitching sobs between strikes but his hips jerked forwards with every lash of the cane, alternately fucking the air and nudging himself back onto the plug. It was so much, so much of everything. He was out of his head with it.
“Steve, Steve, please--”
Steve’s weight settled on him again and Bucky groaned as another bulge of the plug forced its way into him. “Please what.”
The feeling of pressure and fullness in his ass layered over the searing pain of the caning made his brain contract and coil and expand like a wild thing, uncontrolled.
“Anything. Hit me. Fuck me, whatever you want, I don’t care,” Bucky’s voice wavered and then broke as Steve hit him again, unimpressed. “Fuck me, please fuck me!”
His eyes were closed but he knew he was full-on crying now, and probably getting it all over Steve’s shirt. Steve wouldn’t mind. Bucky was pretty sure he liked it, judging by how much he complained about it afterwards.
“Mm,” Steve said. “I’ll take it under consideration.”
Without warning, Steve delivered a vicious slap to Bucky’s balls. Bucky yelled before dissolving into hiccupping sobs. Steve’s fist pulling tight in his hair was a counterpoint to the dull ache in his groin. His ass, he noticed distantly, now touched the cool hardwood floor between his heels.
“Oh, there’s a good slut, taking all of it like that,” Steve said. His voice was warm with approval. He leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially into Bucky’s ear. “The Army must be so proud of its Captain America.”
Bucky felt himself shivering. He struggled wildly against the ropes and then fell back against Steve’s side, panting. His body was lit up from the inside like an old light bulb, flickering in and out.
Steve yanked his head back, hard, with a hand tangled in his hair. Bucky let himself arch backwards as Steve pulled him.
“You want me to fuck you. But who wants to fuck such a sloppy hole, hm?” Steve’s fingers traced the rim of Bucky’s asshole where it was stretched out around the plug. It was slick and greased with lube. The muscle was drawn so tight it couldn’t even twitch at the touch of Steve’s fingers.
Steve’s voice turned thoughtful. “I bet my whole arm could fit up there now,” he said, and Bucky struggled to breathe. The bulge of Steve’s erection was hot against Bucky’s thigh. He could feel the heat of it even through Steve’s trousers. Steve hadn’t bothered to change after his debrief with S.H.I.E.L.D. brass after the press conference, just came straight to Bucky to put him on his knees and beat the hell out of him.
“I guess I could fuck you,” Steve said, like he was bored. “But what good would that do me?”
Bucky licked his lips.
Steve snorted softy at the obvious strategy. Bucky had never been subtle. “Look at that, a suggestion from the ranks that isn’t completely stupid.”
More than one Avengers feature had cooed over him since he came back. ’Soft and a little sad,’ Vanity Fair had said. ’Like he’s thinking about something he lost.’ He’d been the cover of Rolling Stone when Fury gave him the shield back, the edges of his mouth curled down in a pout below the mask in high contrast. It wasn’t entirely the photographer’s fault; he really was unhappy and sulking about the whole thing. Dozens of copies had been taped to his locker in Stark’s tower when that special issue came out. Steve had just patted his cheek and made Bucky suck him off every morning and night for a month straight.
Steve pulled Bucky’s head back even further. Bucky didn’t resist. He let Steve draw him backwards like a bow, farther and farther until his knees nearly came up off the floor from the strain. Bucky’s shoulders were nearly flat on the floor -- or at least they would have been if his arms weren’t tied so tightly behind his back.
“You gonna suck me nicely? Or do you want to make this difficult, too?”
Bucky’s cheek pressed into the inseam of Steve’s trousers. Up close they smelled like ground-in dirt and sweat but he’d avoided the worst of the harbour stink; his stealth approach through the water under the pier had been cut short when Bucky’d been captured. The bloodstains weren’t Steve’s -- he was too fast and too smart for anyone to hit these days. Attacking Steve directly was pointless, and anyway, their enemies had learned there were better ways to get at him.
Steve turned Bucky’s face towards him. He pushed Bucky’s hair out of his eyes and then tapped the pad of his thumb against Bucky’s mouth. “C’mon.”
Bucky’s lips parted to let him inside. He swirled his tongue around Steve’s thumb.
“Good.” Steve petted his hair, careful not to get caught in the tangled mess he’d created.
Bucky bared his teeth and bit down harder than could be considered polite.
“Not good. Who taught you these bad manners?” Steve said, pleased by Bucky’s fight and trying not to show it. His pretended indignation sounded so put-on Bucky almost laughed.
Steve wedged the leather-wrapped handle of the crop between Bucky’s teeth like a bit, right in the back of his mouth where it kept his jaw forced open. Bucky bit down on it experimentally. It tasted like Steve’s hands. Salt, machine grease, and a hint of explosives -- Steve had been the one setting the charges around the warehouse exterior.
The sound of Steve unzipping his fly made Bucky’s cock twitch, bobbing straight up in the air towards the ceiling. His mouth watered. He couldn’t close his mouth hardly at all, and he drooled around the crop a little. He kept his eyes open so he could watch Steve looming over him.
“No teeth,” Steve said in warning, and fed his cock into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s jaw flexed as he immediately tried to disobey and his bite was stopped by the bit.
“I said, no biting.” Steve flicked a finger at Bucky’s balls, hard. The sudden pain of it lit him up, a lance of something sharp and pure going through him. He inhaled through his nose and Steve flicked him again. Bucky laved his tongue against the underside of Steve’s cock.
“That’s a good slut,” Steve said. He pushed further into Bucky’s mouth and flicked him a couple of times in succession, right at the base of Bucky’s cock. The plug was still inside him and the crazy angle of his spine made it press right against his prostate. He rocked against it as much as he could in his bonds. Bucky tried to swallow around Steve’s cock and felt himself drool instead, hopelessly messy with the handle of the crop jammed between his teeth.
Steve fucked into his forced-open mouth with shallow strokes. “Look at you, doing what you’re told for once. It’s a miracle.” Steve wasn’t even out of breath. His free hand slapped at the insides of Bucky’s thighs where the cane had left perfectly even stripes, blood-red and just this side of raw. They’d come up purple by morning. The handprints probably wouldn’t bruise, though, which was always a disappointment.
Steve sank deeper into Bucky’s mouth, forcing himself past the handle of the crop simply by pressing down hard against Bucky’s tongue and shoving in. His cock just barely touched the back of Bucky’s throat with the end of each thrust. It was a tight fit. Bucky heard him sigh a little with the pleasure of it. Steve’s thumb rubbed gently over his cheekbone.
Bucky tried to bite, bared his teeth. For a good ten seconds he fought as hard as he could against the ropes, but managed only to get a cramp in one of his legs. Pathetic. He wiggled his toes underneath him as Steve dragged him up his lap.
The serum hadn’t made either of them perfect, just -- different. Not that it was a particularly visible kind of different. Built-in armour padded out Bucky’s shoulders a bit when he was wearing the star to make him look good for the cameras. The metal arm he kept covered up himself, feeling it was better that nobody knew. Bucky was lucky he’d been born with a heroic jawline because the uniform hid everything else: hiding in plain sight, while Steve used Captain America’s big shadow as cover.
“It’s almost like you want to lose,” Steve said, mock-despairingly. His hand came up to cover Bucky’s nose. He pinched it shut, and then pulled the bit out from Bucky’s teeth. Steve pushed his cock down Bucky’s throat until his balls pressed against Bucky’s chin.
Bucky’s throat felt as full as his ass. He choked convulsively around it, his eyes wide.
Steve stayed there for a few long seconds before pulling out. Bucky gasped for air. Steve pushed back in before he’d fully recovered, pinching his nostrils closed again.
“Take it,” Steve said, rocking into him as he bottomed out again. “Take all of it, c’mon.”
The thick, hot length of him in Bucky’s mouth was perfect. Bucky was moaning a little without meaning to, grinding back onto the huge plug in his ass. Spurts of pre-come pulsed from his cock and spilled down the length of him. His skin was still on fire from the caning, and even the mild sensation of his own wetness on his skin was enough to push him close to orgasm.
Steve watched as Bucky choked helplessly on his cock. He fucked in deeper each time, stroking Bucky’s throat with his hand over top of where his cock was. Bucky felt light-headed with it. He couldn’t get enough air; Steve wasn’t stopping to let him breathe. Steve’s face was intense and raw and greedy, expressive in a way that Bucky never saw outside their quarters.
The aggressive pace made it harder to suck him right, made him mouth at Steve sloppily and drool with no finesse. Steve didn’t seem to mind. He scraped a nail down the underside of Bucky’s cock and it pulsed in excitement. A string of clear fluid clung to Steve’s fingers as he drew them away.
“Already?” Steve said. He flicked the head of Bucky’s cock. The nail made contact right above his foreskin, where the glans was exposed and vulnerable.
Bucky’s whole body jerked. He wanted to groan but couldn’t spare the oxygen, wanted to nod but Steve’s hands were like a steel vice gripping his skull. His dick was standing bolt upright and straining towards the ceiling. His balls hung below, heavy and full.
Steve shoved his cock back down Bucky’s throat, held it there for a second, and flicked him again. Bucky saw bursts of white stars behind his eyes -- or maybe it was just the lack of air.
Steve started fucking Bucky’s throat in earnest as he delivered a row of sharp flicks running up the underside of Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s cock throbbed as he tried to get away from Steve’s merciless fingers but only managed to wriggle himself further up Steve’s lap. Bucky opened his mouth to half-scream around Steve’s cock when the final set of flicks landed right on the edge of his slit. His eyes were so full of tears he couldn’t see at all. His body was tight and quivering like a frayed wire. Steve was a blurry, golden-haired shape above him.
Steve had said he had a plan. It was fine. Steve would take care of it. Bucky’s metal arm whirred behind his back, it’s coolant pressure spiking high as the plates settled and re-settled again.
“Yeah,” Steve said, the strain finally showing in his voice. “Take it. C’mon,” he said, and then he pulled Bucky’s foreskin back carefully in his hand. His callused thumb rubbed firm circles over the glans that made Bucky want to scream in pain or something else, he wasn’t sure anymore. Steve’s cock was all the way down Bucky’s throat. He couldn’t breathe and he didn’t care, it was wonderful. Steve was going to come down his throat, fill his mouth with it, probably get it all over his face and then maybe, maybe he would get--
Steve shoved deep into Bucky’s throat, grinding into his face with a hand on the back of his head to force him to take it. His other hand tightened painfully on Bucky’s cock as he groaned. Steve was still for a moment as he hung right on the edge of orgasm, his body taut and straining with the effort of it. Bucky pressed his tongue against the bottom of Steve’s cock; tried to stroke it and lick the base of it as much as he was able to.
It took just a second more. Steve’s cock throbbed, thick and hot in Bucky’s mouth, and then Bucky was swallowing and swallowing around him as Steve’s release spilled down his throat.
After the first few pulses Steve pulled back to let the rest flood Bucky’s mouth. The salt and bitter taste of it coated Bucky’s tongue, drove away the chemical tang of whatever A.I.M. had tried to drown him in. Bucky let his eyes close. Steve let go of Bucky’s dick to jerk his own cock a few last times, letting the final pulses of it spatter over Bucky’s lips and cheek as he drew away.
Steve’s eyes were dark. Bucky could only imagine what he looked like, back arched so severely into Steve’s lap he was nearly hog-tied. Red stripes from the crop were layered over blue-and-purple bruises all over his torso and thighs. Splattered with semen, his mouth plush and slick and obviously fucked -- Steve had always had an artist’s eye for composition. Bucky didn’t doubt it was for the best, but it was still sad that Steve refused to allow any incriminating photos. His Rolling Stone cover was nothing.
Steve swiped a thumb through his come and pushed it back against Bucky’s mouth. “C’mon. Clean up your mess.” His voice was rough.
Bucky’s dick ached from how turned-on he was. He opened his mouth and let Steve’s fingers in.
Bucky groaned. It wasn’t a fair fight. He licked between Steve’s fingers, wrapped a tongue around each digit. His hips thrust up against nothing. His voice came out garbled through Steve’s fingers. “Please, please--”
“Finish cleaning me up, then I’ll think about it.”
Steve laid his spent cock on the curve of Bucky’s lower lip. It was half-hard, warm and still so familiar after all these years. Erskine’s formula hadn’t changed anything that mattered.
Bucky’s own cock was an angry red, drops of fluid pearling at the tip of it almost continuously now. Steve swiped each one off with the rough pad of his thumb. Bucky groaned as he twitched and throbbed under Steve’s hand.
“C’mon. You heard me.”
He had. Bucky mouthed carefully over the head of Steve’s cock, licking away the last traces of his seed.
Steve tugged him further up onto it with a hand behind his head. Bucky ran the flat of his tongue under the frenulum and then over Steve’s slit. Steve’s softening cock fit easily into Bucky’s mouth. He sucked gently on it.
He looked up at Steve, begging mutely. Steve’s cock was still in his mouth. It was a good bargaining position, he felt.
“Mm. That’s better,” Steve said. His orgasm had relaxed him somewhat, but Bucky knew from hard-won experience this wasn’t over yet. If he was lucky, though--
“Oh,” Bucky said, his mouth falling open as Steve rubbed the palm of his hand over the head of Bucky’s cock. “Oh.” It was hardly anything, but he was so aroused a stiff breeze might bring him off at this point. He was still laying awkwardly, half on Steve’s lap, and half kneeling on the floor.
Bucky started panting as Steve kept methodically polishing the head of his cock. “Steve, please--“
Steve stopped as soon as his cock slipped out of Bucky’s mouth. He raised an eyebrow.
Even Bucky could figure this one out. “Mmf,” he said, as he took Steve’s cock back into his mouth. He looked up hopefully and then let his eyes roll back into his head as Steve resumed polishing his cock. The huge plug was still inside him, and the combination of sensations from his ass and his dick and the soft weight of Steve’s cock in his mouth had him right on the edge.
Steve knew, of course. Bucky was Steve’s favourite toy, he knew exactly what made him tick. He drew Bucky’s foreskin back until it hurt. Steve jacked him with it carefully, stretching it out to completely cover the head and then bringing it back down his shaft to fully expose the glans on each stroke. When Bucky was stiff and shaking under him he brought his other hand up to cup Bucky’s swollen, aching balls in his palm. They were so full and sore from the flogging they felt twice their normal weight, hanging huge and heavy below his cock like overripe fruit. Steve stared down at Bucky in fascination, like the head of his dick being swallowed up by his stretched-out foreskin over and over was providing some kind of vital intelligence.
Bucky’s cock was visibly throbbing and drooling continuously. Steve squeezed and pulled at his balls until Bucky was writhing in the ropes and moaning, his noises only partially muffled by Steve’s spent cock. Steve kept slowly jerking Bucky’s cock, firmly working his sensitive foreskin until it started to redden and swell up, too. If he kept this up Bucky knew he’d end up red and dripping and grotesquely swollen -- just ripe for the crop, or maybe one of the smaller multi-tailed whips. One time he’d come just from Steve paddling his balls and his ass for half an hour; who knew what would satisfy Steve after today’s clusterfuck of a mission ...
Steve’s cock was still in Bucky’s mouth. He took his hands away completely whenever Bucky stopped sucking on him. The interruption of stimulation hurt more than his aching balls: Bucky needed to come so badly that stopping wasn’t an option. It was difficult to stay focused on mouthing Steve’s cock right when Bucky wanted to moan and yell and rut up against him until he blew. Bucky knew his attention was fractured but couldn’t stop himself; Steve kept stopping and starting jerking him off and Bucky was going crazy from it. He caught himself in the start of a pleading whine and it took more effort than it should have to choke it back to silence.
The next time Steve’s hands came back they were holding something Bucky couldn’t see. Steve dribbled a generous amount of lube over the head of Bucky’s cock. Bucky looked up at Steve with his brows knit together in a silent question.
At the first touch of cold steel against his slit, Bucky froze. Steve’s cock was heavy on his tongue.
“Oh, shit, Steve--” Bucky started, and let Steve’s dick slip out of his mouth.
“Ah,” Steve tsked. “Be good.”
The sound was one of Steve’s favourites: stainless steel and rippled like the plug in his ass, with a fat ball on the top to stop it from disappearing inside him entirely. Bucky couldn’t say it was his personal favourite. None of the sounds were. His animal brain was terrified of them, stuck on the wrongness of something penetrating his cock, Jesus Christ, but his body swallowed them up like it was hungry for steel. Bucky remembered his slit stretched open and gaping for hours after Steve finished with him last time. He’d come twice on the sound while Steve fucked him and still had to jerk off furiously afterwards, fucking himself on his metal fingers with Steve’s come still slick in his ass.
Bucky craned his neck so he could watch. He tried not to hyperventilate as Steve lined up the steel. “Steve--”
Steve slapped him hard across the thigh. All the red lines Steve had left behind suddenly lit up with fire under his hand. His head swam. It was so loud in Bucky’s ears it sounded like a round had been fired in the next room.
Steve’s voice was firm. “I said, be good.”
“Steve, Steve--” Bucky said, and then cried out wordlessly as the tip of the sound slipped into his cock. Steve drizzled more lube onto the rod and held it aligned properly as its own weight made it sink down into Bucky’s cock.
“Fuck!” Bucky bit out.
He couldn’t look away. Watching the sound disappear inside him made something in his brain flip sideways. He strained against the bindings. His balls tightened up, in fear or pain or arousal he wasn’t sure. The tight squeeze of it with the solid metal inside him felt overwhelming, like his brain was tuned to three radio channels at once.
Bead after bead disappeared inside him. His slit stretched wide to accommodate each one, gaping open to swallow each fat bulge and then closing up as much as it could where the sound briefly narrowed. It was like a scaled-down mirror image in metal of the plug Steve had worked into his ass, except surely his dick was less accommodating than his -- God. Bucky had a brief mental image of Steve fucking his cock, Steve’s hard dick stretching his slit wide and -- the insane fantasy stuttered out. A significant part of his brain was certain the sound was going to tear him apart, and his arousal was warring with rising panic.
Bucky knew he was making sounds now, a pathetic wordless pleading, but he couldn’t stop himself. Steve ignored him.
Steve stroked Bucky’s cock around the sound, played with his balls a little, clearly pleased with his total domination over Bucky’s marked-up body. It seemed like an eternity until only the final stop-end of the sound was left sticking outside him. Bucky could never figure out the internal geometry of where the whole length of it went. The fucking thing had to be twelve inches long and while Bucky knew he wasn’t small he wasn’t a delusional egotist about his dick, either. How the hell did it--
Steve twisted the sound inside Bucky to adjust its placement. It rubbed at something deep inside him and he let out a long, shuddering moan of combined fear and pleasure.
Bucky felt Steve’s eyes on him, sharp and hungry. Steve jerked his cock a little with its foreskin, squeezing tight around his shaft, and Bucky gasped as his flesh pressed against the unyielding metal. With the sound inside him it felt like Steve was stroking him inside and out simultaneously.
Bucky groaned. He let his head tip back to rest against Steve’s thigh again in defeat.
“That’s right,” Steve said, stroking Bucky’s throat with his free hand for a moment before dropping it back down to massage his balls. “Be a good slut. Let me fuck you how I want,” he said, as he nudged his spent but still half-hard cock back into Bucky’s mouth.
Steve dragged the sound out of him part-way and let it sink back into him, one bead at a time. The glint of steel at the tip of Bucky’s cock was hypnotic. Bucky watched it, transfixed.
“Oh,” Bucky said, as Steve pulled the sound out again. “Fuck.” His cock pulsed as it swallowed the rod again, his slit opening wide for each bead like his lips had stretched open to suck Steve’s dick.
Steve stroked his cock slowly, pulling the foreskin up as far as he could. He rolled Bucky’s balls in his hand. Steve’s cock started to thicken again in Bucky’s mouth.
Bucky tried to tongue Steve’s soft cock gently, properly, while his whole body was shaking from Steve pushing him so close to the edge without relief. Tears trickled down from the corners of Bucky’s eyes. He looked up at Steve through wet lashes.
Steve’s entire attention was fixed on him. “I know you’re close,” Steve said conversationally, like they were discussing the grocery list and not the fact that Bucky had a steel rod jammed up his dick and was close to screaming in agony from sexual frustration. “But I want you to do something for me.” He watched Bucky’s face with laser focus.
Bucky made his mouth as soft and welcoming around Steve’s dick as he could. Surely, surely it would be soon.
“You won’t like it,” Steve warned. “But I’ll like it a lot.” He drew the sound out, slowly, before letting gravity pull it back in. His dick twitched on Bucky’s tongue as it hardened.
Steve’s eyes were very blue and wide and earnest. “I’ll like it so much I’ll be real nice to you after,” he said, all innocent-like, as if he didn’t know that Bucky knew he was a fucking liar. God only knew how many enemy agents had fallen for sweet little Agent Rogers’ baby blues, only to end up the victim of an anonymous stabbing in a dark alley.
Steve got real frustrated when nobody would listen to him. It was half the reason the SSR had assigned him to Bucky’s commando unit in the first place -- the guarantee that Steve’s most special of special ops would be … effectively facilitated, international chains of command be damned. Agent Carter had had the same problem, God rest her soul. Her workarounds included braining the most recalcitrant men with whatever heavy objects happened to be at hand. Steve kept one of Carter’s staplers on his desk -- it had a little bronze plaque and everything -- but he mostly used knives. The Widow had been a real formative influence on him since he woke up this century; Bucky owed her, big-time.
Bucky let go of Steve’s cock so he could reply. “Well,” he said, his voice shaking from strain. “If you promise to be real nice to me, Agent Rogers--”
He watched Steve’s eyes darken and splotches of colour come up high in his cheeks.
“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice low and rough. “Yes, I promise. I’ll be so fuckin’ nice to you, Barnes, it’ll make you cry.”
Bucky had no doubt he would be sobbing uncontrollably from whatever Steve had decided was in store for him. The thought made him sweat, his gut twisting with anticipation.
Steve’s hand started moving again on Bucky’s dick. The other cupped Bucky’s balls, weighing and squeezing them as he jerked him off. The huge plug in Bucky’s ass kept his prostate tight and swollen for the tip of the sound to rub over; it was trapped and pressed between the two objects as they fucked into him out of sync with each other.
Pre-come drooled out around the end of the sound. Steve drew it out out again, real slow, so Bucky’s slit had to stretch out and swallow each shiny steel bead one at a time. The metal rod stood up on its own for a second before his dick sucked it back down. It settled inside him again and Steve squeezed his cock, stroking him with a hand slippery from lube and Bucky’s pre-come.
“Come when you’re ready. Come on,” Steve said matter-of-factly, jerking him off around the sound. “I know you need it. All of your holes are stuffed so full they’ll be stretched-out and gaping for days. Just how you like it.”
Bucky’s nostrils flared wide as he tried to breathe without letting Steve’s cock slip out of his mouth. He kept his eyes locked on Steve’s.
“There’s almost no point in me fucking you now. You’re so loose and sloppy I’ll need to shove a hand up your ass to jerk myself off inside you--”
Bucky’s eyes closed, his back arching as he finally tipped over into orgasm.
He managed to stay totally silent as the first wave hit him, his body seizing up with effort as he stopped breathing entirely. Semen spurted out around the sound, dribbling and pulsing in laboured spatters onto his belly as the metal obstruction slowed it down.
The feeling of his cock convulsing around the sound drove his orgasm deeper. The pull of it spread further into his gut, wrapping around his thighs and balls and ass like a steel band.
Bucky barely managed a ragged inhalation before the next wave hit him. “Aaahh,” he moaned around Steve’s cock as he convulsed again. Steve slipped a couple of fingers in his mouth to stop Bucky from biting down on his dick without meaning to. That was probably wise; Bucky felt completely at the mercy of his body. He couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it.
“That’s right,” Steve crooned to him, all false solicitousness. He looked hungry, starving, drinking up Bucky’s helpless reactions like he was dying of thirst. “Come on--” Steve’s hand kept stroking him.
“Aaaahh, Steve,” Bucky managed, before another wave hit him. His balls spasmed so hard they ached. His ass clenched around the plug, making his rim clutch painfully tight around it. “Fuck, God!” He convulsed again, lost in the sensations.
Steve just kept jerking him through it, fucking him carefully with the sound and rolling his balls in his hand. He hadn’t slowed his pace. “Give it up. Come on.”
Bucky started to whine at the continuing stimulation. “Shit! Ah, ah, aahh--”
“Gonna let me fuck you?” Steve asked, his voice rough. “Gonna let me hurt you?” His hand was still moving on Bucky’s cock, milking the last of his release out of him.
“Yeah, yeah yeah, fuck, Steve, whatever you want--” Bucky managed, through a mouth full of Steve’s dick. His abdominals cramped up with the strength of the additional spasms Steve was coaxing from him.
A few final spurts of fluid dribbled out around the sound. All of a sudden he was done, his reserves exhausted. Bucky whimpered at the overstimulation as Steve continued to stroke him. He tried to squirm away, as unthinking and instinctual as pulling his hand back from a too-hot flame. Steve smacked his balls in retaliation. Bucky cried out, then let his legs fall open wide in submission. Steve spanked him around his hole a couple of times for good measure and then returned to milking his cock.
Bucky was a mess. Semen was cooling on his skin, and still Steve hadn’t stopped.
Steve’s stroking finally slowed. The hand in Bucky’s mouth shifted to pry his jaw open wider for Steve’s cock. Steve’s thumb pressed up against the soft spot under Bucky’s chin.
Dazed by the strength of his orgasm, Bucky mouthed at Steve’s cock. Steve wasn’t fully hard again yet, but his cock was warm on Bucky’s tongue. Heat still coiled inside him. Bucky wondered when he would ever get enough for once, be enough, but he was always hungry for it. He should know by now, he -- it was never enough.
“I’m gonna use your mouth until I’m bored of it,” Steve said. The flush spreading down his chest to disappear under his shirt suggested he was more affected than the tone of his voice let on. “Suck me nicely.”
Bucky hummed in assent around Steve’s dick.
Steve rolled Bucky over to kneel belly-down on the floor with his legs spread wide. Bucky’s arms were still bound behind him. Steve knelt in front of him, holding Bucky’s head in his lap to help keep his cock seated properly in Bucky’s soft, pliant mouth. Bucky’s muscles felt about as useful as the swarm of alien-looking jellyfish that had drifted vaguely in one of the tanks he’d seen in the warehouse. He imagined his whole body like his metal arm with its charge depleted, a blinking blue warning light demanding a new power core before it could move again.
Steve easily manhandled Bucky into position. The serum had had strange effects. Even with his now-perfect health Steve was no taller than before and barely a buck twenty, albeit a much more well-muscled one than his metabolism would probably have allowed before. Bucky was at least double that -- maybe more, with all the metal reinforcing his spine -- and yet Steve moved him around like he weighed nothing. Bucky felt as healthy as ever, but now he could throw a Jeep at an enemy combatant if he was feeling real cranky about it. S.H.I.E.L.D. medical staff had no explanation.
The plug was still seated deep inside Bucky’s ass. He felt like his body had rearranged itself to make room, his insides crumpling like old newsprint to fold into something new and fragile. Steve leaned forwards over Bucky’s back to touch the base of the plug. The shift of his hips pushed his cock deeper into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky tongued at it softly.
Steve ran his fingers around the stretched-tight rim of Bucky’s hole. Bucky felt his fingers search and then settle around the base of the plug. Bucky realized what was coming, and he tensed up despite himself.
It did nothing. His muscles resisted Steve’s pull with about as much tensile strength as damp cardboard.
“Ohhh,” Bucky groaned around Steve’s cock, deep and low, as Steve pulled the first, largest bulb of the plug out of him. His whole body recoiled from the additional stretch, like he’d been squashed flat under a board. The pressure was crushing. “Oh, fuck.”
“Aw, is that hard for you, sweetheart?” Steve asked. His dick twitched on Bucky’s tongue. “I’ll put it back then, here--”
Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head as the enormous end-bulb of the plug pushed back into him. His muscles were so lax and drained from his orgasm he couldn’t fight it at all. The plug filled his ass again, settling so deep inside him he thought he could feel it making his ribs shift to accommodate it. He moaned around Steve’s cock. It was growing warm and thick as it filled with blood.
Steve’s breathing had picked up. “Yeah, look at you,” he said. “Gonna stretch you out so good, Buck.” He pulled steadily, getting the plug out past two bulges this time. Bucky jerked at the crux of each one. He whimpered softly. His body was being perverse -- it clung tight to the plug, resisting Steve as he pulled it out, and then fighting him pointlessly as he pushed it back in. It would be easier if he stopped fighting, so much easier, but he couldn’t force his muscles to obey his brain. Steve steadied him with a hand on his hip, and pushed.
It took a full minute of Steve’s even, steady pressure before the plug settled neatly back into Bucky’s ass. The deep, aching stretch of it made the edges of Bucky’s brain white out with static. Tremors ran up his spine. He felt like a raw nerve, exposed and vulnerable for Steve to touch and hurt and break, maybe, if he wasn’t careful. His spent cock was soft and small between his legs.
Steve pulled the toy out again, slow and even so Bucky felt each individual bulge of it as it slid out of his ass. The muscles around his rim was starting to get tired. His hole stayed open for a few long seconds before it managed to flutter closed down on one of the smaller bulges near the tip of the plug. Steve made a soft noise. He ran a hand over Bucky’s hair, petting him like an animal, before pushing the toy back into him again. Bucky’s ass twitched weakly around it as it sank firmly back into place.
Steve waited until Bucky’s rim had tightened up around the plug, and then pulled it out of him again. Bucky cried out. It was an unfair fight; Steve was pushing him past exhaustion and expecting, demanding, that he respond with the same strength. Bucky felt his knees go out from under him, letting his body sink down to the floor under its own weight.
“Come on,” Steve said. “Are you giving up this easy?” His cock was heavy on Bucky’s tongue.
Bucky shook his head minutely. He tried to engage his core and managed only to quiver half-heartedly on the ground. His face was wet.
“All right,” Steve said. Steve pushed the toy back into him, real smooth and slow. Bucky gasped and twitched at each bulb as little aftershocks ran up his spine, but his reflex reactions didn’t translate into any useful resistance anymore. His ass didn’t even try to tighten up on the smaller bulbs of the plug; they slipped back into him slick and easy as anything. Even the larger bulbs fit inside his ass without the crushing, stretching feeling; their size just made him tremble and flutter around them. He felt all of it like a naked blade pressed to his throat.
“Are you all worn out?” Steve asked. “Or should I find something even bigger for you.” His cock throbbed. Bucky tasted the bitter-saltiness of Steve’s pre-come in his mouth.
Bucky closed his eyes. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Bucky shook his head again.
“Buck,” Steve said. His hands left the plug to come up to cup Bucky’s face. Steve’s thumbs stroked over Bucky’s cheekbones, then circled his lips where they wrapped around Steve’s cock. “Bucky.”
Bucky’s eyes flicked open briefly.
“Bucky,” Steve said again, “I’m gonna hurt you now. A lot.” Steve’s voice was strained. His cock was hot and hard in Bucky’s mouth. Bucky thought he could trace each throbbing vein all the way to the tip where it spilled warm salt onto his tongue. He sucked at Steve, and felt Steve’s thighs tense up from holding still. “You can say, if you don’t want, or--”
Bucky jerked his head again. He wanted it, needed it. Steve would -- Steve had to, he needed--
He sucked harder at Steve’s cock, swallowing him down until his nose was pressed to Steve’s stomach. Bucky felt his silence was a more than adequate response.
Steve’s hands tightened in Bucky’s hair. “Okay,” Steve said. One of his hands left Bucky’s face to pick up the cane. The other reached back behind Bucky and pulled the plug out of him one last time.
Bucky shuddered and gasped as it slipped free of him, leaving him aching and empty in its wake. His stretched-out hole gaped wide open. He could feel the cool air.
Steve groaned. His fingers pushed into Bucky. “Yeah,” Steve said. He stroked the puffy, swollen edges of Bucky’ blown-out hole like he was fingering a girl’s cunt, slick and soft and welcoming for him. His fingers slipped inside. Bucky was so sensitive it felt like a series of electric shocks. Steve’s careful fingers made him jump and twitch like a live wire, its insulation scraped off and exposed to the open air.
“Look how open you are for me, Buck,” Steve said, breathing hard. His cock pulsed. A spurt of pre-come dripped down Bucky’s throat and he swallowed eagerly. “Such a good slut. You’re so ready for me to fuck you now, aren’t you.”
Bucky whined softly. He wanted it, wanted Steve fucking into him, using him like a toy while he was restrained, rutting into him and ignoring Bucky’s cock until it amused him. Coming on him and inside him so he was marked as Steve’s property, inside and out. Maybe some of the marks would finally stay, maybe Steve would keep him tied here with him forever--
“I promise I’ll fuck you, Bucky. But first,” Steve said, as the cane made a vicious swishing noise in the air next to Bucky’s ear, “I’m gonna hurt you.”
Bucky couldn’t help his full-throated scream as the cane landed on his hole. He was so open and sensitive there, the pain was unbelievable. It felt like he was being flayed alive.
Steve’s cock twitched and jerked in his throat. “Fuck,” Steve muttered. He had to stop and squeeze the base of his dick for a minute to control himself.
It gave Bucky a chance to collect himself before the cane hit him again. He choked off most of the scream this time, although the edges of it still spilled out around Steve’s cock as a muffled shriek. It lit up Bucky’s brain like a misfired Roman candle, the timed series of explosives going off all at once and overwhelming his senses.
“Gonna fuck you after this,” Steve crooned to him. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you’re raw, fill you up with my cock, come inside you til there’s so much you can’t hold it in anymore. Right after you’re nice and tight for me again.” His hips thrust shallowly into Bucky’s face.
So that was Steve’s plan. God. Bucky trembled all over.
The cane lashed Bucky’s hole again, feeling like a line of electric fire. The muscles to either side of Bucky’s spine shivered arrhythmically, nerves firing out of sync with the new stimulus. Bucky held in the scream this time. He almost whimpered but turned it into a cough at the last moment.
Steve hit him again, and then again. The pain of it was impossible. It was more than he could take in, spilling over like water from an overfilled cup. His brain was saturated with it. Bucky felt himself shaking like scrap paper in the wind; his whole skeleton was vibrating, metal and all. He heard himself screaming. The next time the cane touched his hole he couldn’t hold back. He cried out and flinched away when it landed. Acting on instinct, he launched himself forward off of his knees in an attempt to get his legs closed, hiding his ass from the cane. It shoved Steve’s cock all the way down his throat. Bucky choked.
“Yes,” Steve hissed. He forced Bucky back a little to spread his thighs open. His hand was on Bucky’s neck, holding him down on Steve’s cock. Bucky saw the cane coming down again and his mind went white with fear. Something in him snapped.
Bucky’s arms scrabbled against his back in the restraints. He struggled ferociously, twisting against the ropes, fuelled by pure panic. But Steve had tied him good and tight: he wasn’t getting out anytime soon. Even if he did, he wouldn’t get very far before Steve brought him to his knees again.
None of that mattered to his animal brain. Bucky thrashed in the ropes, frantic to escape.
Steve had a precise hand. Despite the moving target, the cane landed exactly on Bucky’s hole again. The pain of it flowed up Bucky’s spine to burst in white flowers at the base of his skull. Bucky let out a keening wail that echoed against the walls of their room.
“Yes,” Steve said. “Yes, c’mon.” His hand was tight around Bucky’s throat. “What do you want, do you want me to fuck you? D’you want me to come in you? Huh? Tell me.”
Bucky’s throat convulsed around Steve’s cock. Steve pushed Bucky’s mouth away roughly and held him up by the hair with one hand. “Well?”
Bucky just looked at him for a second, shocked and confused. Steve raised the cane again. Bucky’s eyes caught the motion and he flinched away, crying out in fear. “No! No, no--”
“No, you don’t want me to fuck you?” Steve said. He shook Bucky like a dog with a stuffed toy. “No? You want me to keep caning your hole? Get it nice and tight and ready for me again?”
Bucky’s eyes were wide. “No! Fuck me, please, Steve, I want you to fuck me!”
“Hm,” Steve said. “Convince me.” He let Bucky slump to the floor on his knees.
“Please, please, please--” Bucky begged him. The cane twitched in Steve’s hand. Bucky’s pleading spiralled up another octave. “Please, Steve, please fuck me. Right now, I want you to, I need your cock in me, I need your come, please--”
“Right now?” Steve asked. “Are you sure?” The cane swished through the air by Bucky’s ear.
Bucky cringed away from it. “Yes! Yes, please, Steve, I want it--”
“Alright,” Steve sighed, sounding as begrudging as if he was agreeing to take out the garbage. “If you’re such a slut that you’re begging for my cock, I guess I can be nice to you.”
Steve put the cane down in front of Bucky. Bucky’s wide eyes stayed fixed on it and he shifted away as if it might jump up and bite him. Steve smoothed a firm hand up Bucky’s back, petting him until Bucky’s shaking calmed a little. Steve circled behind him and then got into a half-kneeling position like a sprinter on the starting block. His other leg was up over Bucky’s hip and forwards, with his knee pressed to Bucky’s ribs.
They weren’t quite lined up until Steve put a hand between Bucky’s shoulders and pressed down. Bucky’s chest sank to the floor.
“Stay there,” Steve said. His cock brushed against Bucky’s back, blood-hot and full of promise.
Bucky stayed down. He was still shivering minutely but at least his brains weren’t leaking out of his ears anymore. The cane was on the floor in front of him, which meant it definitely, definitely was not in Steve’s hand.
Steve shifted around, finding his balance. His cock nudged up against Bucky’s entrance. He held onto Bucky’s hip with one firm hand and pressed forward.
Bucky stopped breathing. But--
“Aaah,” Bucky groaned as the head of Steve’s cock started to push into him. His hole was swollen and puffy, the ring of muscle clenched tight from the punishment of the cane. He couldn’t relax. His groan turned into a high, pleading whine.
Steve didn’t stop.
It was like being fucked open with no prep, no lube. Intellectually he knew he’d already been stretched open and greased beyond anything he’d ever experienced, but his body had a short memory, and all it remembered was the caning. His hole felt like it was clenched as tight as his metal fist.
Bucky’s arms flexed uselessly behind his back. The metal joints clicked and popped as the plates shifted past each other. He panted, open-mouthed, against the floor.
Steve breached the tight ring of muscle and kept pushing. His cock felt like fire.
“Fuck, Steve!” Bucky kicked out at him reflexively. Steve had tied Bucky’s legs tightly, so all Bucky managed to do was overbalance himself. He tipped over sideways. Steve’s cock slipped out of him as Bucky flopped like a fish in an attempt to escape.
“Mm. I’m trying to,” Steve said with a grunt. He held Bucky down and smacked Bucky’s ass with his free hand. The sudden impact made Bucky jump, more startled than anything else. Steve wrestled him back into position and pressed his cock against Bucky’s hole again. Bucky renewed his efforts to break free as soon as Steve let the pressure off his neck, writhing under Steve as much as he could.
Steve must have been real happy with his first orgasm, because he laid into the meat of Bucky’s ass, really waling on him with his full strength for the first time that day. Steve delivered half a dozen hard slaps against each cheek. The heavy thwaps rung out against the walls of their bedroom. Steve turned Bucky’s ass a flaming, cherry red that heated him up down to his toes. The impact of Steve’s palm lit up the layers of whip marks and bruises on Bucky’s skin like he was pressing buttons on a malfunctioning arcade game, all the bells and alarms and sirens going off at once. It made a hell of a racket in Bucky’s brain.
Finally breathing a little hard, Steve pulled him back upright. “Stop fighting,” Steve said. He shoved Bucky back into position and slapped his ass a few more times for good measure. Bucky leaned into it, relishing the sting each time Steve made contact -- until Steve laid a final slap right onto Bucky’s swollen hole.
Bucky howled. Steve smacked him again.
“Be good. Let me fuck you,” Steve said, as Bucky struggled under him, “how I want.” He pinned Bucky’s shoulders down to the floor with his elbows twisted up in a submission hold. Bucky subsided, panting.
Steve rubbed the head of of his dick over and around Bucky’s sore, over-sensitized hole. The skin of Steve’s cock was silky-soft and slick; the lube was still chilled from the bottle. Bucky felt it dripping a sticky path down to his balls.
Far too soon, Steve pushed a finger into him. The muscles to either side of Bucky’s spine tightened up as his ass tried to prevent him from getting stretched out and used again. It failed. Steve pressed at Bucky’s ass more aggressively. His thumb smoothed over the delicate, pink edges of Bucky’s hole where it spasmed around the intrusion.
Bucky felt the rim of his hole contract and release on Steve’s fingers. It twitched open and then tight closed again, his body operating beyond his conscious control.
Steve pushed his thumb halfway inside when Bucky’s hole twitched open enough. The sheets of muscle across Bucky’s back all jerked in unison at Steve’s movement. His ass clamped down on Steve’s hand like his life depended on it. Steve ignored Bucky’s resistance, and pressed further inside to forcibly stroke against Bucky’s engorged prostate. It was swollen and hypersensitized from the huge glass plug that’d rubbed against him for what felt like hours.
It hurt. It felt amazing. Bucky wanted to wriggle away from it, wanted Steve to suck him off, wanted the rest of Steve’s hand up his ass until he emptied his balls again at least twice more. The mix of pleasure and pain was confusing, overwhelming; it was hard to think of anything else. If Steve started rimming him right now he thought he might come all over the floor without a hand on his cock. Just push the right button and zzap, that’d be it, he’d be done like a cheap microwave dinner.
The tip of Steve’s cock pressed into Bucky alongside his finger. Bucky’s rim fluttered in panic as it tried to keep him out, uncoordinated and exhausted after such hard use. He gave way in one long, slow-burning glide. Steve’s hand was tight on his hip.
Steve pushed into him only halfway, then pulled out and ran his thumb around the pink edges of Bucky’s hole. Steve hummed to himself. He sounded pleased. Steve poured more lube over him and then slipped a second finger into him. He curled them inside Bucky, rubbed all around inside him; splayed his fingers open in a V, then added a thumb and stretched him open wider. Bucky felt the head of Steve’s cock just resting at the edge of his wide-open hole, waiting.
The gape had come back. Bucky’s hole couldn’t close all the way anymore, not now that it’d been stretched open again by Steve’s fingers and cock. Bucky just knelt in front of him and took it. He tried not to think about what he must look like. Wrecked, an unfriendly voice in his head supplied. Open and gaping like trash, like--
His cock twitched.
Bucky felt more of the cool lube running over his skin, and then Steve’s cock pushed back into him. It dragged against all the spots the smooth glass plug had slipped past with no friction. This somehow felt more real, more intense -- more real than real. Steve had two fingers in him alongside his cock; the pressure and fullness made him ache.
Bucky’s eyes closed. His mouth fell open as Steve sank deeper into him.
“Fuck,” Bucky said, slurring like he was drunk. His ass clutched weakly around Steve’s cock. His body apparently wasn’t willing to give up until it was well and truly broken. “Fuck, Steve.”
Steve finally bottomed out somewhere around Bucky’s throat. Bucky couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. Steve slipped his fingers out of Bucky’s ass and his rim quivered uselessly for a minute before it closed up again, trembling and slow. He shuddered. It felt like Steve was cracking him wide open; knowing hands disassembling him for his component parts and setting each piece carefully aside. His own cock was stiff and full again underneath him.
Bucky tried to focus on just breathing. He closed his mouth and inhaled slowly through his nose. His heart was pounding like he’d run twenty miles.
“Better,” Steve said. He leaned forward over Bucky to look at his face. He must have been satisfied with whatever he saw, because he swept a hand up Bucky’s spine. The sweat beading up on his skin stung like fire as Steve rubbed it into the raw, red lines that criss-crossed Bucky’s back.
It felt like acid, like hot metal burning him. Bucky grit his teeth against the pain. He tensed up and felt his ass contract around Steve’s dick. Steve felt huge inside him. Bucky’s prostate was so swollen from the enormous plug that Steve’s cock felt like velvet-textured steel rubbing right against it. Clenching down made the ridged head of it feel even more pronounced where it pressed against him.
Bucky’s cock jerked against his belly and a knot of clear fluid pulsed out of him. It spattered onto the floor with an audible splash. His inner muscles failed quickly, though, too tired to maintain the tension for any length of time.
Steve pulled out a few inches and sank back in, testing him out. Bucky’s ass offered little resistance now. It accepted Steve’s cock like he’d been made and re-made for this, fucked over and over until all his imperfect edges were worn away and polished smooth from use. He felt the pressure building inside him, felt like he was floating. His ass was so stretched-out and full. He let out a soft noise, not quite a sigh.
“Buck,” Steve said, almost to himself. His hand slid up to Bucky’s hair and wound tight into the base of his skull. Steve rolled his hips against Bucky, grinding against his soft, blown-out hole. Bucky’s cock dripped steadily onto the floor. “Bucky.” Steve’s other hand held onto Bucky’s hip tight enough to bruise. His thumb rested on the rim of Bucky’s ass, between his cheeks and just above his hole, where Steve’s cock disappeared into him. Steve pressed into it just enough to distort the plush, vulnerable border of it.
Bucky whined softly. He pushed his hips back against Steve, making his dick bob beneath him.
Steve snapped back to himself. “So? Come on the floor, then. Not my problem,” Steve said. “Or do you want the sound again, huh?”
The thought of Steve fucking him like that -- the sound stretching out his dick while Steve fucked his ass, came inside him, maybe played around with his come-filled ass with his fingers or his whole hand, fucking him all lazy and sated while Bucky needed to come so badly his balls clenched up and the sound was still in him, tormenting him -- Christ. Bucky let out a sob and tried to shake his head. His dick throbbed. A few drops of clear fluid pulsed out of him on each thrust.
“Aww, poor baby,” Steve said, his voice dripping with faux-sympathy. “Here. Let me help.” His cock was still sheathed deep in Bucky’s ass. Bucky thought he could feel the blood thrumming through it in time with Steve’s pulse.
Steve’s hand left his hip. He rustled around behind them where Bucky couldn’t see. Bucky heard a fine metal chain slithering across the floor, and then he yelped as blunt metal teeth bit down on one nipple.
This wasn’t nice at all. His nipples were still swelled up and sore from Steve’s fingers earlier, and the clover clamps were a particularly vicious choice. Bucky twisted away from them instinctively but with Steve’s knee at his ribs blocking him on one side, that just exposed the other side of his chest. Steve used the opportunity to get his fingers on Bucky’s other nipple. He pinched down, hard, pulling it away from Bucky’s body.
Bucky wailed and thrashed under him. Steve ignored his protest and set the other clamp. His cock was still buried deep in Bucky’s ass. Bucky let out a full-throated howl as the second clamp sank its teeth into him. He struggled wildly.
Steve was unmoved. The half-kneeling position gave him excellent leverage. Even if Bucky somehow managed to bust out of the ropes, Steve’s thighs bracketing Bucky’s hips prevented him from escaping -- his position made Steve’s smaller size irrelevant, even if Steve hadn’t been serum’d up strong enough to bench press a truck.
Steve pressed Bucky’s shoulders into the hardwood floor as he fucked him without slowing. Bucky settled into twitching, useless defiance under Steve’s steady thrusts. The clamps bit into his nipples like they wanted to go right through him. It hurt. Bucky panted harshly through his mouth, his teeth bared against the pain. The weight of the spring-loaded mechanism made the clamps dangle from his chest, gravity pulling them down and adding to their bite. They swung back and forth as Steve fucked him. The tight, sharp pain of it ran directly to Bucky’s cock.
Bucky suppressed most of a high, pleading whine, just the leading edge of it slipping out before he caught it. A string of clear fluid dripped down to the floor and puddled beneath him.
Steve’s balls pressed up against Bucky’s ass each time he bottomed out, the curly blond hair around the base of Steve’s dick scratching rough and raw where he’d used the cane on Bucky’s hole. Bucky bit down on a whimper. His cock strained against his belly. It throbbed and twitched in time with Steve’s thrusts, drooling more fluid into the pool he was making between his knees.
The pronounced ridge on the head of Steve’s cock rubbed over Bucky’s prostate with each stroke, pressing hard and firm against him. Bucky’s dick pulsed in time with it. Steve was pounding into him as even as a metronome, as strong and steady as his heart beat, forcing Bucky’s release out of him without even touching his dick. Bucky bit his lip until he tasted blood.
Bucky’s thighs clenched as he fought to control himself. Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging with salt. His nipples were on fire. His ass felt raw and used, stretched and filled to his limits. The connecting chain between the two clamps rustled against the floor in time with Steve’s thrusts, while Steve’s hand squeezed tight on the back of his neck to keep him pressed to the floor. It all went right to the dark, twisted part of Bucky’s brain that had gotten off on this for as long as he could remember.
Bucky groaned. His balls ached, hanging heavy and full between his legs. The floor beneath him was, somehow, coated with his semen, even though he hadn’t actually come yet.
Steve picked up his pace.
Bucky’s fight against the ropes binding him grew desperate and uncoordinated. He could feel himself breaking open, cracking at the joints like poorly-cured steel. “Steve, Steve--”
Steve ignored him, just kept fucking his ass like Bucky was his favourite toy to jerk off into when he was bored. Bucky’s voice turned pleading, begging for mercy without making a conscious decision to do it.
“Steve, please. God, fuck, fuck--” Fluid was pouring out of his piss-slit on every stroke, big fat pulses of it splattering onto the floor, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t relief.
“Show me,” Steve said. “All of it, come on.” His hand snaked out to grab the chain that connected the nipple clamps. He pulled, gathering the length of it in his hand and twisting.
Bucky screamed as the clover clamps bit into him. His balls drew up tight to his body.
“I know you need it,” Steve said, his voice sounding perfectly calm as he fucked Bucky into oblivion. “Come on my cock. Be a good slut, come on.” Steve kept fucking him, his hips working steady and even like pistons, driving his cock into Bucky like a machine. He tugged on the chain in counterpoint to his thrusts. Shooting bursts of pain exploded like stars behind Bucky’s eyes. Bucky cried out wordlessly.
His orgasm spread through him slowly like an oil slick over salt water, its tension seeping out from its source deep in his gut and coating his insides with waste fuel. He felt -- flammable. Combustible. It wrapped tight around the muscles of his groin, pulling his cock and balls up tight, almost like a physical thing squeezing him. He was so close; he could feel it hanging there just out of his reach. All he needed was someone to strike the match and he’d go up in flames. He rocked back against Steve’s cock, begging for it silently.
Steve twisted the chain a final time and let go. The clamps bounced, their blunt teeth biting even harder into Bucky’s chest. His nipples were nearly purple around the points of the clamps. Steve’s cock pounded mercilessly against his prostate. Waves of tension passed through him, cresting higher and higher each time. His cock throbbed.
It wasn’t enough. Bucky sobbed.
Steve bent forwards over him and kicked Bucky’s legs farther apart to fuck even deeper into him. His chest pressed against Bucky’s back as he fit them tighter together. His hand tightened in Bucky’s hair.
“Do what I tell you. Come on. Show me how much you need it.” Steve’s voice was rough in Bucky’s ear.
Bucky moaned. Steve’s assault on his prostate was relentless. Bucky’s dick throbbed with the beginnings of orgasm, but without the direct stimulation to his cock it was a painfully slow climb. His gut clenched rhythmically. His balls ached, desperate for release. It felt like his whole body was balanced right on the edge of it, he was ready to go up at the slightest provocation.
He gasped as Steve’s thrusts grew brutal, deep and hard and targeted exactly to the flaws in Bucky’s defenses.
“Give up.” Steve commanded. “Show me, come on, Bucky--”
Steve pushed two slick fingers back inside Bucky’s ass, below his cock and crooking down like he was searching for something. He pressed down and Bucky felt the stretch even more keenly. His rim spasmed once more and then gave up entirely, going soft and open, too exhausted to fight him any longer. Steve’s fingers rubbed firmly inside Bucky’s ass, out of sync with his cock.
Bucky tossed his head. He wanted a hand on his cock but at the same time he didn’t; he wanted Steve to keep fucking his ass for hours, stretching him out and filling him. Milking him, pressing on him everywhere and--
Bucky let out a high, choked-off whine as it hit him. His balls convulsed, his hips fucking forward pointlessly into nothing as he lost all control. It felt like his whole body clenched up repeatedly on Steve’s fingers and cock as they forced the orgasm out of him, pressing it out of him with almost painful intensity.
Pulse after pulse of semen spilled onto the floor. It was more clear and watery than his first orgasm, and what seemed like an impossible amount was collecting beneath him.
It kept coming.
“Oh, God,” Bucky moaned, as his ass squeezed tight again on Steve’s cock and forced more fluid out of his balls. It seemed to go on forever. Steve hadn’t stopped fucking him, and somehow the pressure kept building. “Fuck, Steve--”
“Not gonna stop,” Steve said. Both of his hands were on Bucky’s hips as he fucked into him. Wiry muscles flexed as he rutted into Bucky, totally dominant. “Not gonna stop until I’m done.” Steve’s cock pounded into him, tireless.
Bucky kept coming. It was like Steve had found a short-circuit in Bucky’s programming and planned to exploit it until he crashed Bucky’s whole nervous system. Bucky let out a strangled cry. “Shit, shit, shit. What--”
“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice low, guttural. “Give it up. All of it, come on.” He fucked into Bucky with deep, even strokes that pressed right over that spot in his ass, over and over.
Bucky’s stomach tensed up in sympathy as what felt like the entire contents of his sexual organs emptied themselves onto the floor. His cock was red and rigid, still releasing pulses of fluid in time with Steve’s thrusts. “Fuck, Steve--”
“All of it,” Steve demanded. “All of it, come on.” His fingers pressed deeper.
Bucky groaned. His legs cramped up as the big muscles fired and couldn’t move. The pressure felt like a wave, cresting in the base of his spine and breaking over him with crushing power. He was helpless under it.
His balls spasmed again. More semen splattered all over the floor, some of it splashing back up onto him as it hit the pool of milky liquid underneath him.
“Yes,” Steve said, his voice almost a snarl. His hands were tight enough to bruise. “Yes, come on.”
Bucky’s cry was wild. He wanted, needed--
“Bucky,” Steve said. “Bucky, come.”
--a direct order.
Finally Bucky went completely silent. His eyes rolled back in his head and his back arched. Fire raced through him, burning up all the trash and fuel built up inside him, leaving him burned clean and raw in its wake. Steve’s weight above him was the only thing that felt real, strong and steady against him, holding him down with firm hands.
Bucky gasped and shuddered, hips working as he finished. He went limp. He slumped against the floor, completely drained.
“That’s a good slut,” Steve crooned in his ear. “Coming when I tell you to.” He slipped his fingers out of Bucky’s ass to run his palm up and down Bucky’s ass in a soothing motion. Bucky’s exhausted body shook under Steve’s hands, nerve endings lighting up and firing at random.
Steve’s hips slowed and then stopped. His cock was still hard inside Bucky’s ass.
Bucky’s sniffled a little. His face was wet.
Steve pulled out of him. “Buck,” he said softly. Bucky felt like he weighed a thousand pounds. Gravity pressed him to the floor with the weight of his tiredness.
But a thousand pounds was nothing to Steve. He rolled Bucky carefully onto his back, making sure his forearms were still positioned correctly where they were tied underneath him, parallel and not crossed over each other. The nipple clamps were still on him. Bucky cried out weakly as the pain in his chest flared up bright when Steve removed them and then faded into a dull ache.
Bucky’s weight settled into the floor. He let his head tip back and to the side, exposing his throat.
“Bucky,” Steve said. He sounded raw, hungry. He pulled Bucky’s hips up into his lap. His hands were shaking a little against Bucky’s skin.
Bucky’s cock lay soft and spent against his belly. Steve’s hand came up to cover it. His thumb curved beneath to gently lift Bucky’s balls. He held them away from Bucky’s perineum, stretching the skin a little and putting his stretched-out hole on display.
Bucky blinked up at him. He let his legs fell open and spread his thighs to let Steve get a good look at his ass. It felt fucked-open and used, still gaping wide; open and soft for Steve’s cock.
Steve groaned. His hand tightened in the knotted ropes at Bucky’s sternum. “Bucky.” His voice was more urgent now. The tip of his cock brushed against Bucky’s hole, pulsing in time with Steve’s heart.
Bucky worked his tongue inside his mouth. “Yeah,” he said, his body slow and uncoordinated. He felt dazed. “Yeah, you can.”
Steve pressed into him. Bucky’s body welcomed Steve back in like he was a ship coming home to harbour, like he was home to rest at the end of a long day. Every part of him was soft and open for Steve.
“Bucky,” Steve said. He palmed at Bucky’s cock, now small and soft against the dark hair of Bucky’s groin. Bucky lay there and let himself be soft. Vulnerable. “Buck.” Steve used the ropes crossing over Bucky’s chest to pull his lax body farther up onto Steve’s cock.
Steve’s breath came faster. “Bucky, Bucky, Buck--” He looked down at Bucky like he wanted to eat him alive. Steve’s hands ran over the ropes binding his legs, traced the red lines and bruises that marked up his thighs and belly and chest. He squeezed Bucky’s spent, aching balls. Bucky cried out softly. He opened his thighs wider.
Steve pressed in even further, fucking him fast and shallow. His eyes were huge and dark. “Bucky, Bucky.” He called Bucky’s name like he’d forgotten everything else. He leaned forward over Bucky to run a hand over his throat. Bucky looked up at him and blinked slowly. He tipped his chin back, letting his shoulders stay relaxed and loose.
“Fuck,” Steve said explosively. He surged forward, hips snapping into each thrust. He squeezed Bucky’s soft cock and balls and pressed his other hand into Bucky’s throat. Bucky didn’t resist. “Let me, let me -- Bucky -- oh!”
Steve stiffened and came inside Bucky’s ass. Bucky felt his release splashing hot and slick inside him, mixing with all the lube and grease to make a slippery mess that started spilling out of his ass before Steve even pulled out. It dripped down onto Steve’s thighs and the floor between them, flowing into the pool of fluid already cooling under Bucky’s back.
Steve stayed inside him, breathing raggedly. “Fuck. Bucky.” He was still toying gently with Bucky’s soft cock.
“Yeah,” Bucky managed, hoarsely. “You did. I kinda noticed.”
“Buck,” Steve said, sounding like he’d been brained by Carter’s famous stapler. “Bucky.” He curled forwards over Bucky to rest his forehead on Bucky’s chest. He panted into Bucky’s skin. Bucky thought, idly, that Steve must be able to hear his heart beating. He stayed there for a few long minutes.
Eventually Steve’s cock started to soften. He disengaged from Bucky gently, lifting his hips up with two hands. A gush of semen and lube spilled from his ass as Steve pulled out.
Steve set Bucky down carefully on the floor. “Buck,” Steve said again. He stared down at Bucky without doing anything. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes so bright they looked feverish. Steve looked at him like he was just drinking him in, storing it away for later.
Bucky would be happy to lay there for Steve to obsess over forever, but his legs were starting to cramp up. He nudged Steve with a knee.
Steve came back to himself with a sigh. His clever fingers made quick work of the knots. He freed Bucky’s legs, stretching each one out carefully until the knee was straight and then bending it back and forth a few times to get the stiffness out. Bucky winced as his quadriceps complained. Steve set his legs down and then massaged Bucky’s thighs with firm strokes of his hands, helping purge the lactic acid and get the blood flowing freely again. Bucky wiggled his toes and abdicated any other responsibility in the procedure.
“Okay?” Steve asked, before moving up to his chest.
Bucky recognized the look on his face: it was worry o’clock, the most predictable time of day. Bucky let his head fall back. He was content to be fussed over for a bit. Bucky’s body still buzzed happily with the sweet afterglow of orgasm. If he wanted Steve’s hands on him, possessive and indulgent and thoughtful like Bucky was his most treasured doll, well -- he’d had a rough day. It was fine.
“Mm,” Bucky responded. He lay still and limp where Steve had placed him. He imagined he lay in an intense gravitational field, which accounted for the heaviness of his limbs. Clearly he couldn’t get up on his own yet. He’d need a rescue. Fortunately Agent Rogers was there, and he just loved to rescue people; it was his favourite kind of op. Bucky could follow his lead.
Steve untied the ropes around Bucky’s chest and freed his arms, and then lifted him up a little to shift Bucky’s arms out from beneath him. His shoulders burned. Steve worked the feeling back into Bucky’s hands and forearms, pressing into muscles and tendons to draw the stiffness out in long, firm strokes. Even the metal arm got attention: the plates shifted minutely under Steve’s touch, yielding to his pressure to close flat and smooth against the inner core. The sensation made Bucky’s brain tingle strangely. He closed his eyes and smiled.
Steve coiled the rope neatly and set it aside. Then he picked Bucky up as easily as if he was a basket of clean laundry, and carried him through the hallway towards the bathroom.
The TV was on in the living room. Steve had gotten the motion sensor working just last week and it must have powered up automatically when Bucky had stumbled through the door, stripping every piece of combat gear off of his body as rapidly as possible on his way to the bedroom. Bucky caught a few seconds of footage of black helicopters flying low over the Newark seaport, their spotlights sweeping across the darkness. The news headline ticker typed out breathless updates at the bottom of the screen, “--tain America thought dead in warehouse explosion - AIM stock tumbles 76% - S.H.I.E.L.D. refuses comment on rumored mar--” before Steve kicked the bathroom door shut behind them.
The overhead lights came on in response to Steve’s movement. Their bathroom was enormous, bigger than some of their old apartments. Steve complained endlessly about it but Bucky knew for a fact he’d tested every setting before custom-programming his favourite sequence and temperature for the many different showerheads that studded the walls and ceiling.
Steve walked into the shower and laid Bucky down on the tiled floor. A low, mechanical hum reverberated against the tiled walls as the extraction fan spun up. The tiles were warm against Bucky’s back. Steve slid the glass door shut and turned the water on. The shower steamed up almost instantly.
Bucky breathed it in, the humid air feeling warm and soft in his lungs. He’d already coughed up most of the neon-orange not-water -- he’d been held by the medics for hours before they released him to face the press -- but the gentle steam still felt good. He exhaled and imagined all of the day’s stress seeping out of him into the steam, bleeding off like poison.
Steve stepped under the big shower head in the ceiling. He cleaned himself quickly, washing his hair and soaping up before rinsing off perfunctorily. Bucky didn’t bother to move, just lay on the floor and soaked in the warmth. He’d scrubbed himself pink before kneeling on the bedroom floor to wait for Steve, getting all the grime and salt and blood off his skin, but it wasn’t the same as actually feeling clean. There was too much he -- well. S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologists urged him not to dwell.
Steve stepped out of the spray. He knelt down to press a kiss to Bucky’s stomach, just below his navel. Bucky’s skin jumped at Steve’s touch.
“Bucky,” Steve murmured into his skin. “Buck. Sweetheart.”
“Mm,” Bucky sighed. His hand, with an enormous effort, came up to wrap around Steve’s ankle. He felt rather than saw Steve smiling into his skin.
“Gonna take care of you,” Steve crooned. “You want me to?”
Bucky’s thumb rubbed over the bone of Steve’s ankle. “Yeah,” he said. The steam was condensing on his metal arm, droplets of fresh water joining up with each other to run down onto the tiled floor in little rivulets. The plates had sealed off to keep the power core dry. “Yeah, okay.”
Steve twisted a knob on the wall. The main showerhead shut off and the program switched to a gentle rain falling over them both, more diffuse than before. It was warm but not the scalding-hot Bucky used for himself. Steve knelt down beside him and, for a few minutes, did nothing but watch the water pool on Bucky’s skin and flow away. The sound of falling water filled the space between them.
Steve ran gentle hands over Bucky, inspecting him all over for damage. He touched everywhere the ropes had bound him, everywhere the crop and cane had marked him up. Steve ran careful fingers over the cross-hatched red lines he’d brought up on Bucky’s skin, proprietary and pleased, although Bucky knew they would fade in a few hours.
Steve’s hands stilled. Inspection completed. “Injured?” Steve asked.
“I’m fine, Steve.” Bucky opened his mouth to let some of the rain pool there, too. He swallowed. It tasted like nothing, just clean. He turned both of his palms up so they could catch the water, too.
“Okay,” Steve said. He kissed the side of Bucky’s knee. He pressed another kiss to Bucky’s stomach.
Then he leaned down and took Bucky’s soft cock into his mouth.
“Ah,” Bucky said, startled. He was so sensitive now. He felt raw, soft and tender under Steve’s hands like a crab without a shell.
Steve hummed in response. His mouth was gentle on Bucky’s cock but it was still too much, too soon; Bucky’s body felt it too intensely after his recent orgasms for the sensation to be anything other than overwhelming. Steve pinned Bucky in place when he tried to weakly twitch away. His hands on Bucky’s hips pressed him into the tiles.
The rain kept falling on them both. Bucky felt it running down his thighs, between his legs, washing away the worst of the mess.
Steve sucked at Bucky, patient lips and tongue working over him just this side of painful. He released Bucky’s cock and Bucky sighed in relief until Steve moved lower to mouth over his balls. They were swollen to the size of duck eggs from Steve’s rough handling earlier, and felt about as fragile. Steve drew one into his mouth and sucked on it carefully.
Bucky cried out. His hands flew up to Steve’s head of their own accord. Steve looked up at him and raised his eyebrows. “Sorry,” Bucky gasped out, and forced his hands back down. They were trembling. The movement made little ripples in the water that pooled under him before it flowed down to the drain.
Steve let go. Bucky exhaled, not realizing until then that he’d been holding his breath. Steve tongued over Bucky’s cock again. It was still soft and pink and vulnerable against the curly hair between his legs. Steve nosed at his balls again, and then drew the other one into his mouth. He pulled it away from Bucky’s body until his internal ligaments contracted from the stretch.
Bucky moaned. His hands flew up off the floor. He caught the movement halfway this time and pressed them to his own face instead. “Steve, I can’t--”
Steve let the pressure off slowly. “Yes, you can.” His voice was firm.
“Take what I give you,” Steve said, and then kissed the tender spot underneath Bucky’s balls. “Be good.” Steve pulled Bucky’s hips up off the floor and put his thighs over Steve’s narrow shoulders.
Bucky figured it out a moment before. “What? Oh, Steve,” he groaned, as Steve’s tongue swept over his hole. “Steve, you can’t. Jesus, fuck.”
Steve pulled back briefly. “Don’t tell me what to do,” Steve said, and then Steve’s tongue pressed inside him. Bucky’s hole was still so slick and open it gave way with hardly any pressure.
Steve mouthed softly at Bucky’s rim. His tongue licked all around the edges of him and then pushed inside.
Bucky whined. His back arched off the floor.
“Shh. Be good.”
Steve ate him out methodically. He mouthed over the solid muscle of Bucky’s ass, licking away the last traces of lube and semen between his thighs before he pressed deeper. Steve lapped him up like water from a bowl. His tongue flickered over the edges of Bucky’s hole repeatedly. Steve was cleaning him up, slow and deliberate.
Bucky couldn’t stay quiet. He tossed his head back and forth on the tiles. “Steve, Steve, Steve--”
“Shh, Buck. You’re alright,” Steve murmured into his skin, still lapping at his hole. Bucky felt his breath on his skin. “Let me take care of you.”
Bucky sobbed. His body was slow; oversensitized to stimulation but unresponsive to his commands to move, to fight. Steve’s tongue felt like it was rasping over some carefully-hidden core part of him. His cock stirred. Senses distorted and hallucinatory under the warm rain, he felt Steve’s tongue on his cock, his nipples, his--
Steve’s tongue left his ass. He swallowed down Bucky’s cock, still only half-hard and struggling even for that. Bucky moaned. He was so tired. His teeth would be chattering if it wasn’t so warm and humid in the shower.
Steve hummed around him.
“Steve, I can’t, I can’t--”
Steve released his cock to stare into Bucky’s eyes. “You can do whatever I say you can,” Steve said. His hands were tight on Bucky’s thighs. “And you will. I promise, you will.”
“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, and let his head thunk back against the tiles. Steve sucked at him harder. “Fuck. Christ, Steve,” Bucky swore. His voice spiralled up into a whine as Steve increased the pressure another notch. His cock felt like it was trapped in a vacuum. “Okay, whatever you want. Okay.”
Steve’s mouth didn’t let up. Bucky’s abdominals twitched. He felt the pull deep in the base of his spine. Steve was taking it from him regardless of how his body felt about it; he was barely even half-hard but apparently that didn’t matter. “Okay. Steve, please. Whatever you want, anything, oh God please let me--”
Bucky felt more than heard Steve’s deep hum of command. He strained towards it. His cock hadn’t managed to get fully hard but still it pulsed weakly, spilling down Steve’s throat in half-empty bursts. His balls quivered with the effort of producing almost nothing. He groaned.
Steve didn’t stop. His hands stroked approvingly over Bucky’s trembling thighs and kept sucking at Bucky’s cock in long, slow pulls until Bucky was crying silently again. His overstimulated cock was soft and small and vulnerable in Steve’s mouth.
Finally Steve showed mercy. He lifted Bucky’s thighs off of his shoulders and lowered him down gently to the floor. Bucky lay there, slack and exhausted, not bothering to hide his tears. Steve knelt above him and drank it in like a conquering king.
“D’you wanna …” Bucky slurred, and then trailed off. He was so tired. He barely managed to blink the soft rain out of his eyes as it ran down his face.
“No,” Steve said. He sat down and leaned sideways to stretch out next to Bucky. He slid an arm under Bucky’s head to snug him in close to Steve’s side. “No, I’m good.”
“Okay.” Bucky’s blinks were getting longer and longer. He gave up and let his eyes fall shut. His metal hand drifted up to hold onto Steve’s side. It was good at not letting go. Steve tucked in closer to him and ran a hand up and down Bucky’s back, repetitive and soothing.
The warm rain was so nice. The drops fell onto the tiles in a sheet of sound that blocked out everything outside the shower door.
He lost time.
He was groggy and only partially awake when Steve turned the water off. Bucky sat up, a little disoriented at the loss of the rain sound. Steam billowed out of the doorway as Steve disappeared for a second. When he came back Steve put a bottle of juice in his hand -- thankfully not orange -- and Bucky drank it obediently as Steve wrapped a towel around him, rubbing at his hair to dry it.
Bucky made it to bed on his own two feet only because Steve held him up the whole way. He collapsed gratefully into their cool sheets. The afternoon sunshine spilled into their room through the blinds. He’d been awake, what, a day and a half now? Two? They’d chased A.I.M. through the night until they converged on their facility at the port, and he hadn’t slept at all in medical.
Steve switched on the radio beside their bed and turned the dial until he found the Nationals game. They were losing. The familiarity was reassuring.
Bucky fell asleep almost immediately.
It was nearly 3 A.M. when Bucky woke up. The sky outside was pitch-black. Steve was beside him in bed, sitting up against the headboard and working on his tablet. That part wasn’t new -- Steve would work all night if he was onto something, digging his teeth into it like a rat terrier and not letting go -- but when Bucky looked over at the screen it was just the local news.
Shaky footage of a camera zoomed in too far showed Steve, dressed in black with no unit insignia, cradling Bucky’s unresponsive form in a pile of rubble. The white star on Bucky’s chest was half-torn and smeared with something dark; blood, or maybe something else. Orange fluid leaked from Bucky’s mouth. He’d been knocked out before they’d tried to drown him in the alien-jellyfish tank, or -- Bucky didn’t want to think about it too hard. The medics had seemed rattled when they released him. He had yet to meet a medical professional who wasn’t deeply unnerved by what the serum could do.
Steve looked as angry as Bucky had ever seen him, angry and -- terrified. Bucky almost didn’t recognize it on him. Steve’s mouth was moving but the helicopter blades thudded overhead, drowning out any sound even if Steve hadn’t had the tablet on mute while Bucky slept.
The camera zoomed out to show uniformed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents swarming over the partially-destroyed warehouse. Several pools of viscous, fluorescent-orange liquid flowed slowly towards the edge of the pier where they poured into the harbour in a strangely-frictionless sheet. The spotlight swept across Steve’s face one more time as he glared up at the helicopter and yelled something urgent towards the approaching agents. Bucky didn’t move at all, hadn’t so much as twitched. Steve was shouting at him -- he didn’t know what, the video resolution wasn’t good enough for Bucky to lip-read his commands -- and the uniformed-Bucky in Steve’s arms looked--
The film cut out a second later, and the screen flipped back to Steve’s root menu.
Steve looked over and saw Bucky was awake. His face was pinched with worry.
“Hey,” Bucky said. His voice was a little hoarse from sleep. Traffic noise drifted in through their window. New York never really slept.
“Buck,” Steve said softly. The blue light of the tablet screen lit up ghostly shadows under Steve’s eyes.
“What’re you doing?” Bucky asked, still drowsy.
Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Working,” he said. He let out a long breath through his nose. “That was from ABC7. It’s everywhere now. And we got some of the footage from the press conference while you were sleeping.”
Bucky grunted. “How bad?”
“Bad.” Steve’s voice was tight. He reached out as if to touch the bare skin of Bucky’s chest and then stopped, his hand hanging in the air between them. “Maria can’t hold them off much longer. It’ll go out in a few hours.”
“Show me,” Bucky said, resigned. He levered himself up to lean against the headboard. “If I’m going to get crucified in the Post tomorrow I might as well enjoy it.”
Your funeral, Steve might have said, on a different day. But he was silent.
Instead, Steve pulled up a series of email attachments. “Maria sent these just before six. She said -- well, you’ll see.” He double-tapped the first one to start it and turned up the volume. Bucky leaned in beside him to watch.
The film Commander Hill had forwarded was unofficial: the little ticky-timer was still running in the bottom corner, and none of the studio logos were pasted on yet. It wasn’t the final cut. Bucky saw himself in the uniform, mobbed by reporters, so this must have been after medical released him.
The glare of bright filming lights washed out some of the worst of the damage to the Cap uniform. Steve had fished him out of the shattered tank -- mind you, drowning in the strange orange fluid had probably saved him in the end; he figured the liquid must have absorbed most of the power of the explosion or he’d have been atomized along with the rest of the A.I.M. staff -- but he probably hadn’t looked very heroic right afterwards. The medics must have fixed him up with an eye to his aesthetics. They’d dosed him with some real good painkillers to get him back on his feet for the cameras.
He answered a few questions about the mission (Another last-minute success), whether A.I.M.’s stockpile of chemicals would leak into Newark Bay (Hopefully not), what the other Avengers were doing (Thor had discovered the Highland Games and was having the time of his life, Clint was mainlining Korean dramas while he recovered from a broken leg, and Stark was -- well, being Stark), and what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s plans were for the pile of rubble they now stood in (Reclamation and closure). He looked totally composed, if slightly paler than usual and vaguely orange. The medics said he’d only been clinically dead for six minutes. Six-and-a-half, tops.
A platinum-blond reporter interrupted the stream of questions to thrust a microphone into his face. Bucky couldn’t see what network she was with. Her eyes opened wide with exaggerated outrage. “Is Captain America is living in sin with another man? Is this part of the--” and her voice dropped to a stage whisper, “--liberal agenda?”
Bucky watched his own mouth twist into a frown in 4K ultra-high definition. The pain meds made him more expressive than usual. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about that.” There was a collective murmur from the reporters. Bucky waited a beat. “We’ve been married for years.”
A brief silence fell before the press scrum burst into a furious uproar.
Bucky-in-real-life laughed, just a little, at the look on her face. It was almost worth it. He missed whatever she said next as Steve frowned at him.
“A Domestic Affairs team’s been tracking her associates for months. Me and Natasha talked with their lead investigator a few hours ago.” Steve’s frown stayed in place, like maybe he thought their operation wasn’t up to his standards.
Bucky thought about it. “You want me to be bait? I don’t mind.”
“I mind,” Steve said sharply. “No more of that. I don’t want to see what happens if I don’t get there fast enough next time.” His knuckles were white around the edge of the tablet.
The blond lady journalist said something that ended with, “--fit to be Captain America!” Most of the people on the platform looked shocked -- including Commander Hill, which Bucky hadn’t known was possible. A handful of the other reporters booed her and demanded to know her affiliation. Steve was standing off in the shadows with the other S.H.I.E.L.D. brass. His face looked stormy.
Someone from CNN shushed them all. An expectant silence fell.
“Fine,” Bucky-on-TV said. “Okay.” He took the shield off his back, wincing as the movement made his cracked ribs twinge. He dropped the shield on the ground. It clanged loudly. “Have fun!” He walked away.
The press corp’s muttering turned into a roar as they realized Bucky wasn’t coming back. They turned to Commander Hill for answers, shouting questions that overlapped each other.
Nobody touched the shield.
Steve-on-TV took advantage of the confusion to peel off from the shadows. He followed Bucky out into the restricted area by the pier, where technicians in white haz-mat suits poked warily at the last few unexploded barrels. A few of them were still dripping orange slime into the inky-black water below them. The shot was too grainy to show them clearly -- the camera must have been too far away, or the night still too dark -- but Bucky remembered staring out at the lights on the opposite side of the bay and wondering how long he could keep going before all his other secrets ended up splashed over the front page. There was a whole red book full of them, somewhere, just waiting to fall into the wrong hands.
Steve-in-real-life sat up next to him sighed. He flipped on a light. “Buck,” Steve said. He turned the tablet screen off and turned to face him.
Bucky didn’t respond.
Steve pressed ahead. “Bucky, I talked it over with Maria. There are some contingencies we need to plan for.”
“Ugh.” Bucky burrowed under the covers and rolled over. An official S.H.I.E.L.D. strategy session on his romantic life was just about the the last thing he was interested in.
“Bucky.” Steve’s voice was quiet. “Buck. Whatever happens, I just don’t want it to be a surprise. Okay? I’m sorry. We should have talked about it, made sure we were on the same page.” He reached out and ran a hand through Bucky’s hair.
Bucky rolled back over to face him. Steve tucked himself in alongside Bucky, letting Bucky’s cheek rest against Steve’s chest. His arm slipped behind Bucky’s back to hold him closer. It felt good. The metal plates of Bucky’s shoulder whirred softly as they clicked into place.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Steve said, “And I have some ideas.” Steve smiled his sharp-edged smile, the one enemy agents occasionally had the good sense to be afraid of. “I’m done hiding.”
The lights from the street splashed red, white and blue over their bedroom wall.
“Okay,” Bucky said. Steve was right next to him. Their breath intermingled, warm and soft in the cool night air.
This was gonna be good.