Bucky’s phone rings just as he’s finishing his fifth round of spider solitaire, and he picks up the call as he makes the last moves and wins the game. “Barnes.”
“Hey James,” says a woman’s voice. “It’s Mary from fifth. I’m just calling to remind you of your twelve o’clock Q4 evaluation with Mr Rosslyn.”
Bucky blinks, then looks at the clock. It’s five minutes to noon, which, shit, he’s not only forgotten about his last quarterly evaluation but also about lunch. “Thanks, Mary,” he says, grimacing. “I’ll be right there.”
Spider solitaire is Bucky’s downfall: he’d finished and turned in his last project in the morning, and usually his normal routine after wrapping up a project is to close his email and play a couple of rounds while his brain starts working on his next assignment. Except it’s his last day in this job and there are no new projects to start, and by closing his email he’s also closed his calendar that should’ve reminded him of the meeting. Dumb fuck’s luck, honestly.
He locks his computer, checks his phone to see if he’s got any Twitter notifications, and quickly scribbles himself a post-it note reminder to text Clint after the meeting. He checks his outfit and hair carefully in the elevator mirror as he’s waiting for it to get to the fifth floor. He’s being vain, and a little stupid maybe, but the last thing he wants is to go see Steve with breakfast muffin grease on his shirt.
His plug shifts slightly inside him as he twists to check his ass in the mirror, making him inhale sharply. They’d made tentative plans about Steve coming over after work, despite fooling around barely two days ago. Steve likes it when Bucky’s so well-prepped in advance that he can just lube up and slide in, and Bucky likes it a lot when he does that, and that’s why Bucky’s spent the better part of the day wearing his favorite plug. He’d planned on fingering himself more at home before Steve showed up to ensure that he was loose and ready, but he’d completely forgotten about the damn evaluation, so there he goes.
Going to a meeting with a toy up his ass isn’t exactly how he imagined his final day in this company to go.
Steve isn’t his boss, exactly. If anything, he’s the boss of Bucky’s boss, the executive who oversees the whole cyber security department in Bucky’s workplace. They’ve been fooling around - or whatever one calls a string of one-night stands with the same person - for almost three weeks, ever since the company holiday party where Steve kissed him in the restaurant’s bathroom and took him home afterwards. Usually Bucky wouldn’t be the kind of person who sleeps with a coworker, but by then he’d already turned in his notice, so throwing caution to the wind had been surprisingly easy.
Bucky had thought it would be a one-time affair, fueled by the liberal spirit of company parties, but Steve had asked for his number, and somehow the one-night stand had turned into a series of them.
They don’t really interact at work: Steve does his job somewhere else and rarely comes down to the grunt floor so their paths rarely cross. Bucky had been lusting after Steve in secret since Steve started, a couple of months before the fateful party, but Bucky’s also a goddamn professional and can keep it under wraps.
“Hi Mary,” Bucky says to Steve’s secretary as he reaches her desk, trying hard not to look like he just power walked across the whole floor with an anal plug. “Am I late?”
“Nope,” Mary says cheerfully. She’s older than Bucky’s mom and incredibly lovely. Bucky’s gonna miss her once he leaves. “Just on time.” She leans in, pressing the intercom button, and says, “Mr Rosslyn, Mr Barnes is here to see you.”
He’s buzzed in almost immediately, and Mary waves at him as he opens the door and slips inside. Steve’s sitting at his desk, the window behind him, typing furiously, and it gives Bucky a perfect chance to ogle him in his work mode.
Steve’s wearing a navy dress shirt and a black tie, and - if Bucky knows him at all - probably a pair of expensive, pressed slacks that fit him unfairly well. He’s groomed his beard a little since Bucky saw him last, and the sight of it makes Bucky want to squirm, just a bit.
He’s fairly sure he still has beard burn on his ass from Tuesday.
Watching him makes Bucky sometimes wonder why the hell Steve bothers with him - Steve’s very easy on the eyes, smart and funny as hell, and absolutely amazing in bed. He’s got a place in Manhattan, and suits that probably cost more money than Bucky makes in a month. Bucky’s just barely the athletic kind of lean, with a coif that doesn’t know what it’s doing, and a bad addiction to spider solitaire and Twitter; he’s slumming it with his human disaster flatmate Clint in Bed-Stuy and can afford nice clothes only if they’re on sale and his mom tailors them for him.
But then again, he might be a beanpole compared to the muscle madness thing Steve’s got going on, and his hair doesn’t know how to quit, but he’s also one of the leading experts in his field and has a new job in his pocket, as the head of the Stark Industries cyber security team. He’s genuinely funny and competitive as fuck, and according to past lays, his ass is a fucking miracle.
So yes, okay, he could be a worse catch, but still Bucky isn’t sure if this - whatever it is - is going to continue once he starts his new job. Maybe Steve’s just after the thrill of dicking down a soon-to-be-ex employee.
Steve finishes up, locks his computer and looks up, quirks a smile. “Take a seat, James.” Then he leans towards the intercom and says, “Mary, please set me as unavailable. Feel free to go for a long lunch, the week is almost over.”
“Will do, Mr Rosslyn,” Mary replies. “Thank you, I’ll be back at one p.m.”
“Perfect,” Steve says. Then he leans back in his chair and reaches to grab a report from the corner of his desk. “So, James, as you know Ms Halloway is out on business today, so I’m going through the Q4 evaluation she made.”
“Yes, sir,” Bucky says automatically, and Steve’s mouth softens.
“Please call me Steve.”
“Sure.” Bucky doesn’t know why he’s so awkward now, but it just might have to do with the plug in his ass. He shifts a little in the chair.
“Ms Halloway doesn’t have many points in her report, just a short general evaluation of the past three months. With this being your last day here, there’s no need for discussion about how you wish to improve your work in this quarter,” Steve notes. “We’ll be sad to see you go.”
“Thank you,” Bucky says, because ‘I won’t’ isn’t exactly a recommendable reply, no matter how informal he could be with Steve in theory.
It’s not a bad company, per se, but Bucky hasn’t gotten a raise in almost two years, which - considering his skill set and the seminars he attends whenever he can afford it to boost his knowledge, not to mention his degree from the fucking MIT - is just ridiculous. There’s also a bad case of nepotism that grates on his nerves - the best projects are often given to the CEO’s kid whom Bucky should outrank by a mile.
Bucky’s got some great coworkers, he likes Ms Halloway a lot, and he knows Steve’s constantly fighting with the board and the CEO to stop the favoritism and to get the cyber sec team treated better - Bucky’s not the only one whose raise has stalled by the board. But otherwise there aren’t many things Bucky is going to miss, except maybe the easy train connection between Bed-Stuy and the downtown. His commute is gonna get at least fifteen minutes longer thanks to Stark Industries being up in Midtown.
“Your work has been outstanding these past months, James,” Steve says, tapping his pen against the short report. “Ms Halloway is more than ready to recommend you for projects both alike and more complex than what you’ve been working on so far. She has also proposed a bonus for your hard work which the board has accepted, so that will be paid to you in your final salary.”
“Oh,” Bucky says stupidly, blinking. Maybe now he can afford the wardrobe update he’s gonna need at Stark Industries. He’s fairly sure that Steve’s been roasting the board over the bonus like crazy to get it approved. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Steve smiles at him, skimming the report. “You’ve earned it,” he says. “Frankly, I’m not really surprised you’re leaving us - from what I’ve gathered during my time here, your career has been stalling for the past year.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says. “No offense, but I don’t really feel like this company is interested in using my experience to its full potential.”
“I agree,” Steve says. “Full offense to the board, this company doesn’t care much for its best employees, which is why I hope you’ll get better opportunities in the future. Do you mind me asking where you’re going? I don’t think you’ve mentioned that.”
“Stark Industries,” Bucky says. “Their recruiter called me. I got hired before the interview was over.”
“That’s amazing!” Steve grins, wide and genuinely pleased. “Congratulations. Tony is an old friend, so I’m happy to hear his team will be in good hands.”
Bucky scratches the back of his head, grinning helplessly. “Thanks. I’m really excited to work there, they just put together a new cyber warfare team that I’ll be leading.”
“That sounds perfect for you,” Steve says. “It will do miracles for your career.”
“God, I hope so,” Bucky says, and they fall quiet. Steve clearly doesn’t have anything else to say regarding Ms Halloway’s report, and Bucky’s not really sure if he should say something either so he looks down, brushing at invisible dirt on the knee of his trousers.
“We still have plenty of time,” Steve says then, breaking the silence, and Bucky looks up. There’s sharpness in his expression when he takes Bucky in; his gaze sliding down from Bucky’s dress shirt to his nice work slacks, lingering. “Do you have anything you’d like to… discuss?” He looks up from under his lashes at Bucky, tilting his head.
Oh, Bucky thinks, suddenly a little dizzy, heat flushing through him. Oh.
He clears his throat, tips his chin slowly up and looks Steve in the eye. “I’m open to anything.”
A hungry expression flashes on Steve’s face, and Bucky’s dick throbs in his pants, perking up. Shit. They’re seriously doing this, fooling around in Steve’s office, and Bucky probably shouldn’t be surprised that he finds the prospect ridiculously hot. It’s Steve, after all, and Bucky’s always been a little turned on by breaking the rules.
“Strip,” Steve says simply, leaning back in his chair. “The door is locked.”
Bucky’s standing up and pulling off his tie before he knows what he’s doing. Steve watches him as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, draping it over the back of the chair. Bucky’s nearly shivering under his gaze, excitement and arousal making his whole body tingle. He undresses briskly, economically: they don’t have much time, but he’s also way too conscious of his only nice pair of slacks to rush it. He yanks the undershirt over his head, toes off his shoes, undoes his belt and strips off his trousers. Having Steve’s eyes on him makes Bucky’s blood rush down to his cock, his nipples tightening.
Once Bucky’s folded his clothes on top of the chair he straightens, biting his lip. Steve’s sprawled in his chair, slowly opening his belt and unbuttoning his slacks and dress shirt. He holds Bucky’s eye as he pushes his pants and briefs down and palms his dick, and Bucky’s eyes drop down to his groin. Steve’s cock is already jutting up, thick and hardening, and Bucky’s mouth goes wet in anticipation just from looking.
Standing there naked under Steve’s heavy gaze taps right into the part of Bucky that’s into power games. Following Steve’s orders, stripping down in front of him, and knowing that Steve’s gonna push him down and make him take it feels incredibly erotic, and his breathing picks up, getting heavier.
“Come here, James,” Steve says, patting his thigh, and pushes the chair away from the desk. Bucky swallows and obeys blindly, lets Steve pull him down on his lap. Steve’s hand strokes down Bucky’s flank, sneaking around him to trace his abs before continuing down and wrapping around Bucky’s half-hard cock.
Bucky leans against Steve’s chest and tips his head back, sucking air through his teeth. Steve works Bucky’s dick in long, lingering strokes, coaxing it to swell and fatten up, but when Bucky’s hips start twitching, trying to fuck up into his fist, Steve pulls off. He drags a finger down Bucky’s balls and slips it further back, ghosting over Bucky’s taint until he meets the end of the toy and stills.
“Are you wearing a plug?” Steve asks quietly, his fingers brushing the T-shaped base.
“I was preparing for tonight,” Bucky says, curving helplessly into touch. Steve nudges the plug, and Bucky spreads his legs, giving him more room.
“That’s perfect,” Steve murmurs. “That’s what I like about you, baby. You think ahead.”
Bucky inhales sharply as Steve slowly pulls the plug out a bit, stopping at the widest part. He feels around Bucky’s rim, stretched around the girth, then pushes the toy back in, and Bucky moans. He teases Bucky like that for while, and just when Bucky’s about to start begging, he pulls the toy wholly out and sets it on a Kleenex he tugs out of a box on his desk.
Steve’s dry, calloused fingers press briefly against Bucky’s hole, testing how relaxed it is, and Bucky cants his hips, eager to get something in him again.
“Look at you, so good for your daddy,” Steve breathes, pressing a kiss behind Bucky’s ear, and Bucky tilts his head, his dick twitching at the words. “All slick and pliant, hoping to get fucked.” Steve fumbles around in his desk drawer, and then there’s the familiar click of a lube cap.
It startles a laugh out of Bucky. “You keep lube in your office?”
He can feel Steve grin against his neck. “Not usually,” he admits. “But I was being optimistic about your evaluation.”
“Been waiting to ravish me in your fancy chair?” Bucky asks, letting Steve manhandle him into a better position on his lap.
“Well,” Steve says and turns the chair around, bringing Bucky face to face with the large floor-to-ceiling windows, and Bucky’s breath hitches. They’re on the fifth floor, and somewhere in the back of his brain he knows that the windows are one-way so nobody can see in, but there’s a thrill of what if - what if the windows were see-through? What if somebody in the building across the street looked up right now?
“Would you like it?” Steve murmurs into his ear like a mind reader, as a warm, slick finger circles his hole, dipping in. Bucky sighs, but Steve doesn’t give it to him that easily: he pulls his finger out and goes back to rubbing Bucky’s hole, wet and loosened up. “If somebody looked up and across the street and saw you like this, spread out on your daddy’s lap, squirming for something to fill you up.” He slips two fingers into Bucky, and Bucky makes a pleased noise, tilting his hips to get better leverage.
Steve barely teases him with a second finger before adding a third one; Bucky’s loose enough to take it with only minimal burn, and the stretch feels fucking fantastic.
It’s not actually a secret that Bucky likes a dick up his ass. In the past few years he’s been in relationships with people who don’t like to have anal sex, though, so Steve’s pretty much the first person in almost four years to stick his dick into him. It’s almost scary how sexually compatible Steve and he have turned out to be. Bucky’s definitely not complaining.
“Ms Halloway has written you a great reference,” Steve says, low and silky. “She says you’re hard-working.” He lines another finger up and starts pushing in. “Dedicated.” Steve chuckles softly against Bucky’s ear and twists his fingers a little, sliding them slowly out and then in again. “A model employee. But if you asked me, there should also be a mention of how sweetly you beg for your daddy’s cock.”
Steve fingers him lazily, stretching him out, and Bucky’s panting hard, his legs spread as far as they can go, trying to grind down. Steve’s left hand is pressing down on Bucky’s stomach, keeping him in place. Bucky feels so fucking filthy, naked and sprawled on Steve’s lap, four digits up his ass and the city view at his feet. “Please,” he says breathlessly, thighs tensed to push down to meet Steve’s fingers.
“Please what, baby?” Steve’s free hand finds Bucky’s nipple and rubs lightly, drawing a moan from Bucky’s throat.
“Please give me your cock, daddy,” Bucky says, biting his lip, and Jesus fuck, he’d thought he’d never actually say shit like that out loud again. Bucky hasn’t called anybody ‘daddy’ in bed since over ten years ago, when he was a senior in MIT and fooling around with a doctorate student he met in a party, but Steve had somehow pulled the kink out of him on their third booty call, and they haven’t looked back since.
Steve hums, pressing against Bucky’s prostate, and Bucky gasps out a choked-off moan. “Bare?” Steve asks in a low voice, teeth and beard scraping lightly against Bucky’s neck, and Bucky nods, fervently. “You want daddy to breed this eager ass?” He crooks his fingers against Bucky’s prostate again.
“Yes,” Bucky pants, squirming. Steve’s left hand migrates down and wraps around Bucky’s rock-hard and leaking dick, making Bucky swear. “Yes, fuck, please.”
“Use your words, baby,” Steve says mercilessly, withdrawing his fingers and leaving Bucky empty and aching.
“Fuck me bare, daddy,” Bucky breathes out, grinding his ass down against Steve’s erection. “Fill me up, I want to get your load in me.”
Steve swears behind him, and then Bucky’s suddenly lifted onto his shaky feet and Steve’s standing up. “Bend over the desk,” Steve says hoarsely. “Spread yourself for me.”
Bucky almost trips over his feet in his haste to obey. He leans down over Steve’s desk, his chest pressing against the cold surface, making him shiver, and he closes his eyes, reaching back to pull his asscheeks apart, exposing himself to Steve.
“Gorgeous,” Steve murmurs. He presses the tip of his dick against Bucky’s hole, pushing in just slightly, and Bucky sighs, trying to arch his back.
Steve takes the hint and presses down on the small of Bucky’s back, hips canting to slide in deeper, opening Bucky up with his cock. He’s hot and heavy inside Bucky, bare for the first time.
They’d both gotten tested last week, after Bucky had accidentally blurted out that he wanted to have Steve’s come in him. Steve had emailed his clean record to Bucky yesterday, and when Bucky had sent his own back, Steve had sent him a fucking dick pic, asking if he could come over the next evening.
Fucking in Steve’s office is an unexpected turn, but Bucky’s very, very much down for getting his ass reamed again later tonight like originally planned.
Steve stills when he’s balls deep, letting Bucky adjust to being so fucking full, rubbing his back with warm, calloused palms. Sometimes Bucky wonders what the hell Steve does with his free time, because those are hard work calluses, and one doesn’t get them from clicking away with a roller mouse. They feel incredible, though; a gentle scrape against the soft, vulnerable skin over Bucky’s spine, making him yield into the touch.
But then Steve rolls his hips, fucking into him, and Bucky can’t stop the hoarse moan that pushes out of his chest. Steve’s slow with it, his dick sliding teasingly in and then pulling out again, almost to the tip, making Bucky feel every single inch.
“There you go,” Steve says, almost fondly, and does something with his hips that changes the angle, his dick brushing Bucky’s prostate. Bucky gasps, his fingers tightening on his asscheeks.
Steve covers Bucky’s right hand with his own and strokes his thumb where Bucky’s hole is stretched around his dick, making Bucky squirm. Steve pulls fully out, pushing Bucky’s asscheeks wider apart, as if to admire him, and Bucky swears his whole body goes up in flames with shame and arousal. It’s weird and embarrassing and so fucking hot to hold himself open like this and know that Steve’s looking at him, the weight of his gaze right where Bucky’s so exposed and needy.
“You’re taking it so well, sweetheart,” Steve says and pushes in again. He fucks Bucky lazily, unhurriedly, like they have all the time in the world, and Bucky lets himself sink into it, closing his eyes. It feels like heaven to leave himself in Steve’s hands like this, trusting that Steve will take care of him. He loses track on reality, slipping into a quiet place in his head where it’s just pleasure-hazy stevestevesteve , his senses hyper-alert to Steve’s touch. His orgasm starts building, fueled by the thrill of doing something as inappropriate and dirty as fucking in his superior’s office, and he grinds his ass back on Steve, trying to meet his thrusts.
He’s so full of Steve’s dick and panting for it, short little gasps; his cock is rubbing against his stomach, trapped against the desk. It hurts a little, but it’s just on the good side of painful, and with how wet he’s getting the slide is smoother and more enjoyable with every movement.
“Turn around, James,” Steve orders suddenly, pulling out, and Bucky blinks, scrambles to his feet and turns to face him. Steve picks him up under his ass and lifts him on the table like Bucky weighs nothing, spreading his thighs open and sliding back in on a long, slick thrust. Bucky’s head hits the desk, and then Steve’s hooking Bucky’s ankles over his massive shoulders and folding Bucky almost in half.
It makes Bucky feel tiny, a perfect moldable doll for his daddy to use, sparking something bright and pleased and intense inside him, and he reaches for Steve, touching his jaw. Bucky cranes his head up for a kiss, and Steve bends down to meet him, all teeth and tongue, twisting and crooking and sliding just so, leaving Bucky breathless and wanting. They rarely kiss after foreplay for reasons Bucky doesn’t want to examine further, so it’s always new and amazing, and Bucky wouldn’t mind spending days doing it.
Steve breaks the kiss, braces his hands on the desk and picks up the pace, his hips snapping relentlessly, driving his cock into Bucky, and it’s so good, it’s so fucking good, and--
Steve’s cell phone rings.
They both freeze, Bucky’s eyes flying open, and turn to stare at the phone that’s vibrating next to Steve’s hand.
Steve’s gaze snaps back to Bucky, and then he pulls another Kleenex from the box and wipes his hands, before reaching for the cell phone with one hand, and slowly covering Bucky’s mouth with the other. “This okay?” he asks in a low voice, and Bucky nods breathlessly, his heart up in his throat. “I’ll try to be quick, but you need to be really quiet.”
Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s ankle, and then he takes the call. “Rosslyn,” he says and rolls his hips just slightly, his cock dragging against Bucky’s prostate. Bucky has to bite his tongue to stop moaning against Steve’s palm.
“Can I call you back in an hour?” Steve asks, thrusting shallowly into Bucky, like he’s testing the waters. Bucky squirms on his cock, desperate to have him deeper, and Steve’s gaze goes dark and appreciative. “I’m in the middle of something at the moment.”
The look goes straight to Bucky’s dick, and his breathing hitches. Steve presses harder against his mouth and rocks his cock into Bucky again, holding him down and keeping him quiet, like a plaything; something passive, there to be used. Like Bucky’s there just for his pleasure, spread out naked on Steve’s desk, warming his cock, and-- Jesus fuck, Bucky is so into it that for a second he thinks he’s gonna come right on the spot.
His eyes slip shut and his head tips back again. He’s gripping the side of the desk with one hand and Steve’s forearm with the other, wishing that he had his legs around Steve’s waist so he could urge Steve closer, get his cock good and deep. Steve keeps the same angle, brushing Bucky’s prostate again and again, and Bucky doesn’t fully manage to swallow his sigh. Thankfully it’s still quiet, muffled by Steve’s palm.
“Yeah, sure,” Steve says into the phone, and Bucky opens his eyes. “Thanks, I’ll get back to you. Bye.”
Steve tosses the phone back onto the desk and leans over Bucky again, bending him so that his ass is tilted up lewdly.
“I could get used to this,” Steve says silkily, his hand still over Bucky’s mouth. “Having you naked and willing in my office all the time.” Bucky swallows, and Steve grins, lazy and crooked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Keeping your daddy’s cock warm like this while I work.”
Bucky moans against his palm, because fuck yes he would like that; ready to spread his legs whenever Steve wanted, hungry for his cock, maybe gagged to keep quiet. Steve worms his free hand between their bodies, wraps it around Bucky’s dick and rubs, making him moan again, fully at Steve’s mercy.
“I would like it too,” Steve says, jacking Bucky off slowly. “I could tie you up and put you over my desk and just fuck you whenever I please, making you sloppy and wet with my load.”
“Christ,” Bucky says against Steve’s hand, because he’s never before met anyone who could match Steve’s level of dirty talk, and he fucking loves it. He’s been teetering on the brink of an orgasm nearly since Steve first bent him over, worked up before there even was a cock in him. Steve works his cock, unhurried, bringing him closer to his peak again, and then draws his hips back and slams home, and Bucky makes a goddamn embarrassing sound.
“You close?” Steve asks, flushed and bright-eyed with pleasure, a moan escaping when Bucky’s ass clenches around him. Steve straightens up and pulls his hand off Bucky’s mouth, thumbing the side of Bucky’s lips same as he likes to do when they’re stretched around his cock.
Bucky nods, and instead of tightening his grip or picking up the pace, Steve slows down, circling his hips in a way that makes Bucky feel him everywhere. He keeps nailing Bucky’s prostate, rubbing and rubbing against it, and his fingers are feather-light on Bucky’s leaking cock, edging him closer to the orgasm.
“Come on, baby,” Steve coaxes, “I want to see you come on my cock.”
“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky manages, curving helplessly up from the desk. It takes only the press of Steve’s thumb below the head of his dick, Steve’s cock kissing his prostate, before Bucky’s coming with a low whine, spilling over his stomach and Steve’s hand.
He clenches down hard, chin tipped up and his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Steve swears as Bucky’s ass milks him, and Bucky gropes for his spunked up hand, drawing it up to his mouth and sucking two fingers in. He’s floating, his toes tingling, and all he wants is to get Steve’s cum in him and maybe keep getting fucked by him for the next fifty years.
“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, his free hand dragging down Bucky’s body, circling a nipple and then coming to grab his hip, thumb digging into skin. Bucky thinks he might be bruised tomorrow, Steve’s handprints across his hips like a claim, and the thought lights up inside him, hot and happy.
Bucky pulls the fingers out of his mouth with an obscene pop, and opens his legs so that his calves fall from Steve’s shoulders and he’s spread out on the desk, fucked out and dirtied up. “Come on, daddy,” he says, eyes half-lidded and bearing down on Steve’s cock still grinding shallowly inside him. “Fill me with your cum.”
Steve swears again, lets Bucky’s legs drop fully so that he can wrap them around his waist, and then he picks up the pace again, Bucky hanging on to his forearms. It doesn’t take long: Steve has a lot of stamina, but he’s also really easy to get off once he’s made Bucky orgasm. Steve grunts, both hands squeezing Bucky’s hips hard, and then he’s coming inside Bucky, bare for the first time. It feels incredible: it’s messy and nasty, and yet about as intimate as it can get, no barriers between them.
Steve lets out a huge breath and collapses on top of Bucky, careful to not crush him, and Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, drawing him in. Steve’s warm, and Bucky has a fleeting realization that he’s messing up Steve’s undershirt with the cum on his stomach, but then Steve exhales, pleased, and turns his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck.
“Do you want to go to a late lunch?” Steve asks against Bucky’s skin. “My treat.”
Bucky can’t help the startled laugh that escapes his mouth. After he starts it’s impossible to stop, and soon he’s snickering against Steve’s shoulder, making Steve lift his head and look at him.
“What?” Steve looks incredibly confused, but there’s a helpless grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hair is mussed up, and he’s red-cheeked and gorgeous and absolutely ridiculous.
“Nothing,” Bucky says, trying to calm down, playing with the short hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck. “It’s just-- you still have your dick in my ass and you’re talking about lunch. It’s very romantic.”
The word slips out before he can catch it, and he freezes, because fuck, this thing between him and Steve was never supposed to be ‘romantic’, not even jokingly. They’re fooling around, and possibly going their separate ways now that Bucky’s contract ends.
But Steve’s expression softens, and he leans down, nudging Bucky’s nose with his until Bucky tilts his face up into a kiss. It’s surprisingly soft, intimate; a series of dry, small presses of lips, and emotions swell in Bucky’s throat, overwhelming and confused.
“I’d like to date you,” Steve says when he pulls back, resting his forehead against Bucky’s. “I think you’re charming, and funny, and intelligent as hell, and I-- I like you a lot, James. Let me take you out?”
“Oh,” Bucky says, taken aback. “Oh. Um. Yes, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
“Really?” Steve’s grin is nearly blinding.
“Yeah,” Bucky says, his heart doing something funny at the sight of Steve so openly delighted. He tries to bite his lip to stop his wide smile, but it’s futile, and Steve’s grin gets even bigger in response, so they’re soon beaming at each other like a pair of dumb fucks.
“So, lunch,” Bucky says after they’ve been just grinning adoringly for a minute.
“Oh, right,” Steve says, blinking, and pushes himself up. He glances down at Bucky, and his voice drops lower. “You want me to plug you up? Leave all that cum in you until I want to fuck you again?”
Bucky swallows hard, biting his lip again, and nods. Steve smiles crookedly at him, and reaches for the plug. “Almost a shame,” he murmurs, pulling slowly out, letting Bucky feel the drag of his softening cock one more time. “I’d love to watch it leak out of you.”
Bucky inhales shakily, feeling empty, already used to being filled. “There’s always later,” he says, and Steve grins.
“Yes,” he says. “There is.”
Bucky’s glad Mary isn’t back yet when he slips out of Steve’s office and scuttles to the closest bathroom to check his state. Thankfully the floor is quiet, most people either on late lunch or coffee break, and nobody looks at Bucky twice as he tries to act casual and not like he just got dicked down on his superior’s desk.
His neck is a bit pink where Steve rubbed his beard as Bucky was squirming on his lap, and his eyes are bright and hair a little mussed. He wets his hand under the tap and combs his hair back into some kind of coif so that it looks less ‘freshly fucked’ and more like he’s just been messing with it.
He has to splash water onto his face and press his hands against his flushed cheeks, trying to contain the stupid grin that’s threatening to break out. When he peeks at himself from between his fingers he realizes that it’s a lost cause: he looks like he just found the last fancy chocolate in a post-Valentine’s sale and grabbed it from under someone else’s nose.
It’s his last day. He can look suspiciously happy, right? And maybe walk suspiciously funny too?
He goes to grab his coat and scarf and let his team know he’s going out for lunch before making his way downstairs to the lobby. Steve is already there, leaning against a pillar and scrolling through his phone, and Bucky flushes hot all over again at the sight of him, dressed in an exquisite charcoal coat, his hair combed back into place.
Steve’s eyes light up when he spots Bucky. “Hey, James,” he says. “Ready to go? There’s a great Lebanese place a couple of blocks north, thought we could do that.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says, trying to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop the idiot grin.
It makes Steve smile widely, sucking his cheeks in like he’s trying to rein it in as well, and he lays his fingertips lightly on Bucky’s lower back to steer him out of the door. It’s a beautiful wintry day, and Bucky kind of wishes he’d grabbed his sunglasses, but really, he doesn’t know whether he’s more blinded by the sun or by Steve’s magnificent face.
They fall into step, heading north, and Steve’s hand doesn’t drop away. Instead, the further they get from their building, the firmer Steve’s touch settles on him, testing the waters, and Bucky side-steps just a little to get closer, revelling in the way Steve’s mouth curls up.
“You know,” Bucky says when they stop at the red light, “you can call me Bucky.”
Steve turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Bucky?”
Bucky shrugs. “Nickname. If, um, if we’re on a date, you should call me like my friends do.”
Steve’s surprise turns into a fond look, and then he slides his arm around Bucky’s waist, bringing them even tighter together. “This okay, Bucky?” he asks, and he’s so close, stupidly handsome and good-smelling, and Bucky’s leaning up for a kiss before he knows what he’s doing.
Steve kisses him, easy and intimate, arm around Bucky and free hand stuck into his pocket. Bucky’s just about to put his hand on Steve’s cheek, maybe push into his hair, when the light changes and a tetchy New Yorker bumps into them, swearing.
Steve laughing against his mouth might be the best thing that Bucky’s ever felt.
There’s a couple of seconds of awkward silence when Bucky opens the door and lets Steve in that night, but then Steve grins and brandishes a bouquet of flowers out of nowhere.
“Well,” Bucky says, astonished, accepting the flowers. They’re tulips, a bright, pretty assortment of yellow, purple, and red. Bucky loves tulips, not that he’s ever told it to Steve. “This is a first.”
“I figured that since I’ve already deflowered you, I could flower you for change,” Steve says and Bucky laughs, waving him in.
“My flatmate’s out,” Bucky says as he goes to the kitchen to fetch something to put the flowers in. He’s pretty sure there is a vase somewhere, but if not, he’ll just have to use a cooking pot. “But he’s likely to turn up at some point, he said he won’t be long.”
There is a vase, perched on the highest shelf of the cabinet, and Bucky has to go up on his tiptoes to try to reach it, but he’s just an inch too short.
“Cool,” Steve says brightly right behind him, making Bucky jump. For his size, Steve’s an incredibly sneaky bastard. “Can I help?”
“Um,” Bucky says, pointing at the vase. He’s fairly tall, so this definitely isn’t an everyday occurrence, but Steve has those two precious inches Bucky’s sorely lacking, and he really doesn’t want to put the flowers into the asparagus steamer Clint - for some unfathomable reason - owns. “Please?”
Steve steps closer until he’s pressed against Bucky’s back, crowding him against the counter. He’s very warm, radiating heat, and Bucky sighs a little, sagging against him helplessly. Steve reaches up, putting one hand on Bucky’s waist, and catches the vase easily with his other hand, setting it down on the counter. Then he very carefully puts that hand on Bucky’s waist too, turning him around.
“Hey,” Steve murmurs, and Bucky leans into his touch, rocking up to kiss him. Steve smiles against his mouth, his moustache tickling Bucky’s lip, and it’s soft and chaste and feels like a punch right to Bucky’s chest.
“Hey,” Bucky says back when they reluctantly pull apart. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too,” Steve says, and just hugs Bucky close, hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder.
It’s nice; Bucky can’t remember the last time he just hugged someone who’s not his family, and Steve turns out to be an expert hugger. He’s surprisingly cuddly for someone so muscled.
“Wanna order takeout and watch bad TV?” Bucky asks against Steve’s shoulder. He would very happily cuddle against that shoulder for the next hundred years.
“Is that what the youngsters call ‘Netflix and chill’?” Steve asks, and Bucky can hear the smirk in his voice.
“Oh, it can definitely be that,” Bucky says and pulls back so that he can put his lips next to Steve’s ear and murmur, “I still have your cum inside me.”
Steve inhales sharply, tightening his grip a little, and Bucky kisses him on the ear and wriggles around in his grasp to get water for the tulips. Steve presses against his back for a fleeting moment, his dick definitely showing interest, but then he lets go of Bucky’s waist and steps back, as if to compose himself.
They order food, and Bucky puts the TV on, not really picking a channel but flicking through them to find a program he won’t miss in case they end up making out. Because that’s exactly what happens not even ten minutes after they’ve inhaled their food: when the program ends and another starts, they’ve somehow ended up lying on the couch, Bucky squished under Steve’s bulk, trading kisses that are toeing the line between innocent and will-lead-to-fucking. Bucky’s dick is just starting to suggest a change to the agenda, and he’s subtly hitching his leg behind Steve’s back to get into a better position, when Steve pulls back.
Steve just looks down at him for a while, tracing the slope of Bucky’s nose and the curve of his cheekbone with his fingertip. Then he says, hesitating, “Listen, Bucky.” He swallows, visibly steeling himself. “I gotta tell you something before we go any further.”
Bucky frowns and opens his mouth, but suddenly there’s an unholy noise, and something crashes through the living room window from the fire escape. Steve throws himself down over Bucky in the blink of an eye, arm covering his own neck and the back of his head. It happens so fast that Bucky doesn’t really realize it until he’s pinned against the couch, his eyes squeezed shut.
But when nothing happens, Bucky opens his eyes, and Steve cautiously pushes himself up a little to let him breathe. Somebody groans, and when Bucky peers over Steve’s shoulder, he’s greeted by the sight of his flatmate lying on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass. Bucky didn’t even know it was possible to break their living room window, but apparently yes, if you’re Clint.
“Clint?” Bucky asks, blinking, and Steve turns to look, eyes widening with surprise.
“Clint?” Steve asks too, mouth gaping open.
Clint rubs his head and looks at them, frowning. “Steve?” He squints at their compromising position on the couch. Bucky slowly lowers his leg from behind Steve’s back.
“Clint,” Steve repeats, sounding increasingly baffled.
“What,” Bucky says. He looks between Clint’s painful-looking sprawl on the living room floor and Steve who’s staring at him like he’s seen a ghost.
“Um,” Steve says, scratching the back of his head, looking awkward and a little abashed. “That’s Clint.”
“Ye-ees,” Bucky says pointedly. “He’s my flatmate.”
“Clint is your flatmate?” Steve looks thoroughly confused, discreetly pulling his left hand from the back of Bucky’s pants where he’d been sneaking it before Clint turned up.
“Steve,” Clint repeats in the same confused tone, and his eyes go wide and horrified. “That’s the Steve you’ve been mooning after? You’ve told me about his dick.”
Bucky flushes crimson, because Clint and he have a bad habit of getting drunk on cheap wine and gossiping like schoolgirls on weekends if Clint happens to be around. “That doesn’t explain how you know each other!”
“He’s Captain America,” Clint says like it’s obvious. “I’m Hawkeye. We shoot aliens together.”
“You what?” Bucky turns to look at Steve, flabbergasted. Steve’s beet red under his beard, and-- Jesus fuck, now that Bucky’s actually looking, he does resemble Captain America a lot. “But you’re a fucking cyber sec manager,” Bucky says, sounding like a broken machine.
“No,” Steve sighs, “I’m fucking a cyber sec manager, which is you. I was undercover.”
“Wait, shit,” Clint says, clapping his hands over his mouth. “Bucky didn’t know?”
Steve shrugs, clearly uncomfortable, and Bucky automatically tightens his arms around him. He might be baffled to hell and back, but Steve’s still his to take care of. “I was just about to tell him. It, um, didn’t come up. Covert op and such, you know.”
“And it’s perfectly fine,” Bucky says, even though he’s definitely reeling because of the revelation and his own stupidity. “He can be Captain America and still date me.”
“Really?” Steve asks, expression turning hopeful, and Bucky nods vigorously.
“Absolutely, you can’t ditch me now, you brought me flowers.” Bucky’s scrambling and he knows it, but honestly, he just found out that his flatmate is a goddamn superhero, and that he’s been boned by America’s golden boy for nearly three weeks. He’s allowed to.
“Bucky, you’ve called Captain America daddy on Twitter,” Clint says, which, to be fair, is true.
Another of Bucky’s bad habits is drunk tweeting about the daddy levels of celebrities on his private account, because he has no filter after he’s had enough Chardonnay. He’s got some sense, at least, because his account is locked and even if it weren’t, he’s never even considered tagging the people he tweets about, because that’s just inappropriate and really gross.
“It’s not like I’ve called him that to his fa--” Bucky starts to argue, and stops mid-sentence.
There’s a long, stunned silence.
“Oh my god,” Clint says then, horrified, fumbling with his hearing aids. “Aw fuck no, why didn’t I turn these off earlier, fuck, fuck, I’m never gonna unhear that.” He rolls onto his ass and scrambles up to his feet, dusting off glass shards. “I need to go, like, immediately.”
“Um,” Steve says, still hunching a little protectively over Bucky. Bucky hadn’t realized that Steve positioned himself as a human shield the second Clint came through the window, which in hindsight makes a lot of sense. “Okay?”
Clint limps back to the window before stopping abruptly like he’s remembering something, and turns around. He’s suddenly grinning. “I’m happy for you both!” he says, a little too loud like he does sometimes when he’s turned the hearing aids off. Then he looks at the window, frowning. “I’m gonna call someone to fix that,” he mumbles, and climbs out. They hear him clatter down the fire escape like there’s an actual fire urging him on.
“So, um,” Steve says, looking like he can’t decide whether to pull away from Bucky or not. Bucky squeezes him tighter. “That’s what I was gonna tell you. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no,” Bucky says. “It’s okay, I get it. It’s not a thing you go telling people randomly.”
Steve huffs out a small, joyless laugh, and Bucky threads a hand into his hair and pulls him closer, until his head is nestled against Bucky’s shoulder.
“I really don’t care,” Bucky says softly into his ear. “I mean, it’s gonna take me a bit to wrap my head around it, and I want to know why the fuck you kept your real first name if you were supposed to be undercover, but really, you’re still you, and I-- I like you. A lot. A star-spangled outfit doesn’t change that.”
Steve snorts but squeezes Bucky gratefully, and they lie there for a while, just holding each other. They’re gonna have to talk properly about it, figure out how it will affect them and the relationship they’re jumping into, but for now Bucky’s more than ready to let it slide.
Besides, it feels really good to be held.
“Hey,” Bucky says then, nudging Steve a little, because there’s cold air blowing in through the broken window. “You know, it’s highly unlikely that Clint is coming back tonight.”
It gets Steve moving: he lifts his head from Bucky’s neck and looks down at him, frowning a little like he’s not getting it.
“Empty house,” Bucky hints, sliding his hand down to Steve’s ass. “Nice and quiet, no interruptions. And, honestly, my toes are getting really cold.”
Steve grins, sudden and happy, and then he pushes himself up to his knees, sitting back on his haunches and pulling Bucky easily onto his lap. Bucky can’t comprehend how the fuck he didn’t realize how weirdly strong Steve is, manhandling him with ease.
“Yeah?” Steve says, grinning, and puts his hands on Bucky’s hips, right on top of the bruises he left earlier. It’s a promise in itself, and Bucky shivers when Steve tightens his grip just a little, making the bruises ache.
“Yeah,” Bucky confirms, wriggling a little to find a better seat and earning a sharp inhale from Steve. Steve tilts his head up and kisses him long and firm, and Bucky sags into it, framing Steve’s face with both hands.
“Let’s get you warmed up, then,” Steve says, still grinning, but his eyes are dark and wanting as he hoists Bucky up into his arms to carry him to the bedroom. “I’ve heard that I make an excellent hot water bottle.”