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Bucky Barnes and His 1001 Fetishes (or at least eight of them)

Chapter Text

Bucky walks into the lecture hall with Natasha. It’s one of the classrooms in the fine arts building, so as an ASL Interpretation major, Bucky’s never been there. He trails behind Nat and seats himself next to her. Thanks for lining this up for me., he signs to her.

She shrugs and says out loud, “No problem.”

Natasha’s fluent in sign but she’s not deaf. She only attends Gallaudet because her boyfriend Clint does. Bucky could just speak to her, but he’s made a resolution to sign whenever possible in order to increase his fluency. That’s why he’s sitting in on Natasha’s Art History class, too. He needs to work on expanding his practical vocabulary in relation to the arts. So Natasha has arranged for him to audit her class. The professor is supposedly hearing and sign-illiterate, so this is one of the few classes on campus that has to have an interpreter. It’s the type of work that Bucky plans to do once he earns his degree. So the plan is that he’ll attend classes with Nat and sit and watch the class interpreter to learn.

Plan being the key word. Bucky gets a little bit completely distracted when the professor walks in. “Oh my god,” He says aloud before he can stop himself. The guy who’s just walked in is hot, like burning. He’s tall and broad and so built that it shows right through his sweater vest and khakis. He’s got a beard and Bucky immediately knows that he wants to call him Daddy. Hello, professor, he thinks, eyes still glued to the guy. “Nat,” he hisses, and she looks over at him.


/That’s/ the teacher?

She gives him a weird look. Duh, she says. /Why/ are we signing?

Because he’s hearing and can’t sign, and I’m going to have some very inappropriate things to say about him!

Natasha rolls her eyes and looks forward at the teacher. His name’s Steve, she tells him, because she’s smart enough to know that’ll be Bucky’s next question. Professor Rogers, to you, she emphasizes. And no, you cannot have sex with him.

“I beg to differ,” Bucky says.

“Pretty sure there are ethical rules against that,” she murmurs, because the guy—Steve, Bucky thinks dreamily. He looks like a Steve—is stepping up to the podium to begin the class. The class interpreter is poised just to the side, ready to begin as well.

“Rules, not laws though, right?” Bucky checks, in a near-whisper.

Natasha huffs at him and doesn’t reply, and Bucky spends the rest of the class watching Professor Steve Rogers and fantasizing about all the dirty things he’d like to do to him. Given that Bucky’s got a kink list about a mile long, it’s not exactly a surprise that by the end of the lecture he’s learned very little new Art History-related sign. He has, however, formed a very solid new crush.


The problem with Bucky’s crushes (at least according to Clint and Natasha) is that they tend to linger dominate his every waking thought until he fucks them.

Chapter Text

Bucky reaches out and snags a pair of lacy green boyshorts. “What about these?” he asks.

Natasha looks over and makes a face. “No.”

“What?” Why not? he signs once he’s put the panties back. They’ll look good with your hair.

“I only wear black.”

You’ve got to branch out. Bucky walks over to one of the displays and examines a purple teddy. Like this—

“Black. Only.”

Bucky huffs and heads towards the next section of displays.

They’re in Victoria’s Secret, lingerie shopping for Natasha and Clint’s second anniversary. Natasha’s not the romantic type or the anniversary type, so Bucky knows it means that she really cares about Clint, that she’s bothering to go through the effort of buying special-occasion underwear. Bucky picks through some more of the panties, and even though he’s supposed to be looking for Natasha, he’s kind of looking for himself, too. He picks up a pair of silky gray panties and examines them, wonders if they carry them in large. Extra large? He holds the panties and looks down to his crotch assessingly.

“Um, what are you doing?”

Bucky’s eyes slide over to Natasha. She’s standing with her hand on her hip, looking amused. Bucky grins. You think my junk would fit in these? he asks. The face Natasha makes is wonderful.

“Depends on the junk,” she says. “You can try them on over your underwear, you know.”

Bucky glances back in the direction of the fitting rooms. That’ll get a look from the sales girl.

Natasha snorts and picks up a strappy black thong. “Since when do you care about people looking at you? You’re practically an exhibitionist.”


She hums. “Exactly.” She picks up another black number to look at.

Making up his mind, Bucky finds a pair of the gray panties in large and heads off towards the fitting rooms. “Colors, Natasha,” he calls over his shoulder at her. “Live a little.”


The panties are going to be a thing, Bucky decides. They’re definitely getting added to the list.

He puts them on as soon as he gets back to the townhouse that he shares with Nat and Clint. In his room, he gets naked, slips them up his thighs, and arranges his balls and his semi-chubbed dick in the material. It’s a snug fit, but he likes that, likes the way the smooth silk feels against his skin. Bucky looks down at himself, feeling terribly perverted for what he’s doing. He grins.

Hmm, he thinks as he steps in front of the mirror that hangs over the back of his closet. What would professor Rogers think of this? Bucky reaches down and palms himself through the fabric, admiring the shape of his cock behind the thin material. The bulge is so obvious, pressing through the silk so clearly that he can see the outline of the head. It’s obscene. Sexy as fuck, Bucky thinks. He’s getting hard just looking at himself in the mirror. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low as he imagines Steve Rogers standing right behind him, holding Bucky back against his body and whispering in his ear: Look at you, baby boy (Steve would totally call him that), you’re so pretty in your panties. Do you like the way that feels? Hm? Your sweet little cock looks so good all trussed up, so slutty for me.

Bucky groans, wrapping his fingers around his cock from over the underwear and jerking himself slowly. The fantasy of Steve whispering filthy things to him isn’t new, but this tiny edge of humiliation, of feminization, is. It makes Bucky’s face warm, his body heating in arousal that much more. It’s hot. Looking at himself in the mirror, he whimpers and breathes, “Fuck, Steve.”

He abandons the mirror for his bed, lays down and starts to peel the panties off, planning to jerk off like he always does, but then he gets a wicked idea, pauses, and decides that yeah, he’ll give himself a different type of orgasm today, work a little harder for it. He gets his Bad Dragon dildo out and squirts some lube onto it. It’s freakishly-shaped, pink and yellow, and it basically looks like, well, like an uncut alien dick. It'd been a gag gift that he'd secretly kept, and Bucky loves it (alien rape fantasies are totally a thing that should be more socially acceptable).

Slicked up, he pulls his panties down in the back and presses the toy against himself. He goes slowly, just teasing his rim for a long time, pressing a little more and a little more, working himself open until his body is relaxed enough to accept it, and the head of the toy slips in. Bucky grunts, loving the feeling of that first second of penetration. He imagines having that with Steve, wonders what his cock looks like. Is he circumcised? Big? Fat? Does he shave his balls? Bucky presses the toy in harder, gets it seated all the way in himself.

What would Steve think, he wonders, as he pulls the panties back up over the toy and grabs one of his pillows and shoves it between his legs. What would he think if he just walked right in the room and found Bucky like this? Trussed up in panties, hard and leaking against the silk, cockhead peeking out over the waistband?

Bucky’s face burns and he presses the pillow against his crotch, grinds down onto it. The pressure pushes the dildo inside of him, almost like a thrust. Bucky imagines Steve standing there in the middle of the room, shocked but maybe also lust-stricken. He imagines what the guy would look like, frozen on the spot in his khakis and sweater vest, boner tenting his pants and eyes dark with arousal. God, it’s a pretty image. Bucky humps the pillow and reaches up to pinch one of his nipples. He’d do that, he thinks. He’d look Steve straight in the eye and fucking pinch and tease his nipples. He’d moan for him, make pretty sounds to show Steve how slutty he is, how good he feels from touching himself.

“Daddy,” he says aloud, just because he wants to hear the sound of it. He’d say that to Steve. He’d call him Daddy and tell him all about what he was doing. Got a big alien dick in my ass Daddy. It’s weird and wrong but it feels so good, rubs me just right inside. I’m so hard in my panties but I’m not touching my cock. I just want to hump my pillow and come on a dick, like a girl. Want you to watch.

Bucky moans, breath escaping him in a huff as he works the pillow harder between his legs. Oh, he’s got a good rhythm going, he can feel the pleasure coiling low in his belly already. “Fuck,” he whimpers, feeling the thick cock moving in him, its unnatural shape pressing wonderfully against his prostate. Would Steve let him come like this? he wonders. Or would he make him stop right when he got close? Take away the pillow and pull the fake cock out of his ass, replace it with his own.

Bucky groans as he imagines it, Steve inside him, fucking him, not even asking before he does it because he knows Bucky’s just a little slut. Bucky humps the pillow harder, frantically climbing towards his orgasm. Oh, he’s close, he’s close. It’s all he can think of and he squeezes his eyes shut, grinding down and rubbing the cock over his prostate, so perfect, fuck. He’s going to shoot all over his panties, he thinks, going to ruin them in a sticky wet mess.

And then he imagines Steve calling him a good boy and sinking down to lick it all up, and he comes.

Chapter Text

Bucky didn’t grow up rich. When it comes to his college, his parents support him as much as they can, but he’s got three sisters that George and Winnie have to worry about too, so there’s still a sizable gap left in tuition after the eight thousand they give him every year.

Bucky works at the campus bookstore, which is a pretty sweet gig. He gets a good discount on his school books, and it’s quiet inside the book store and doesn’t usually get very busy. On days when his manager isn’t there, Bucky’s able to get away with bringing his laptop to work and fooling around on the internet writing smutty fanfiction for an hour or two of his shift.

It’s a standard Sunday shift when Steve Rogers comes in. Bucky’s behind the customer service desk, hunched over his laptop and typing away manically as Clint stocks textbooks on the nearest shelf. Whatcha writing? Clint asks.

Bucky pulls his hands away from the keyboard long enough to sign, Destiel, PWP. Clint doesn’t write fanfiction but he thinks that it’s hilarious and fascinating that Bucky does. Bucky’s educated him about some of the lingua franca of his fandom.

No more incest? he asks.

It’s /Wincest/, and no, not right now. Dean and Sam will always be his OTP, but Bucky’s been branching out. He’s dabbled in Destiel ever since his last boyfriend tried (and failed) to make it a role-playing thing in bed.

He’s back to typing rapidly, eyes fixed solely on his screen as the words flow from his fingers, so he doesn’t see Steve Rogers walk in, or Clint flapping his hands in warning. A voice picks up in front of the desk, “Hello.”

Bucky’s eyes flick up, and oh. His eyes go a little wide, he’s sure. “Steve,” he blurts, and then mentally cringes and corrects, “I mean, Professor Rogers” (Daddy). Steve smiles, looking confused but polite. God, he’s just so damn polite-looking. So big and sweater vest-y; proper. Bucky absolutely wants to wreck him. “Sorry,” Bucky says. “We haven’t met. I just—”

“You’re the guy who’s auditing my class, right?”

Bucky beams. “Yeah. Yeah I am.” Steve noticed him? He does a mental fist pump. Steve noticed him! “Uh, thanks. For letting me.”

“Of course,” Steve says. “I’m one of the only professors who can’t sign, so…” he reddens, his blush creeping down from his cheeks and into his beard. Aw. “Well, it’s just good to know there are hearing students interested in sign. People like me need all the help we can get.”

Oh dear. Bucky’s crush has just gotten worse. Is there such a thing as an incompetency kink? Bucky might have one. “Happy to help,” he says and signs at the same time, which gets him another smile from Steve. “I’m Bucky,” he says, holding out his hand. Steve takes his hand and shakes it. His palm is so large, his fingers thick. Bucky has to swallow as he imagines those hands holding him down, those fingers opening him up. “Um…”

“What are you working on?” Steve asks.

“Ah, what?”

Steve nods towards Bucky’s open laptop. “Saw you typing up a storm when I walked in. What’re you writing?”

Bucky doesn’t even think about it, he just blurts, “Porn.”

To the side and out of Steve’s sight, Clint winces and signs, Really? Bucky ignores him.

Steve’s mouth is opening and closing like a fish. “I—well that’s, um, something. …Porn?” his voice is nearly squeaky at the end, and Bucky wonders if the poor guy has never watched porn. Hm, a porn virgin. Again, he thinks that he wants to wreck him.

“Yeah.” Bucky smirks. “Guess I should be working on coursework but, oh well.”

“Okay,” Steve says, apparently not knowing what else to say.

“You’re cute,” Bucky says, if only to see Steve blush again.


You are so fucking weird, Clint is saying from his spot by the bookshelves.

Bucky snaps his laptop closed and asks, “So, what can I help you with?” Besides sucking your cock, he thinks.

“Oh! I ah, I’m looking for a book.” Steve pulls out his phone and looks at it. He reads off the title and author and tells Bucky that he's been looking forward to the book's release. It's non-fiction, and Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Reading for fun?” he asks. “Like, that’s your hobby? Do people even do that anymore?”

Steve coughs, flustered. “Well I’m not the best at writing porn, so…” he shrugs. “Yeah.”

Bucky smiles widely at Steve’s joke. “Touché, Professor.”

Steve smiles. “You can call me Steve.”

Or Daddy, Bucky thinks. Maybe Sir? He nods. “Okay. Steve.” He moves over to the store’s desktop computer and starts typing in the title and author. “Let’s see if we have that book for you.”


The second that Steve’s out the door, Clint’s over at the desk and telling Bucky he’s a regular weirdo. That’s not how normal people initiate a conversation, dude.

Bucky laughs, unconcerned. I think he was into it.

He looked mortified, Clint says. He’s probably straight.

Bucky’s eyes widen. Oh no, he hopes not. No way, he says. He meets two of the three gay bench marks.

Which are?

Bucky holds his fingers up as he lists: Well-dressed, crazy-fit body, gay voice.

Clint raises an eyebrow. /Gay/ voice?

I said two out of three.

Clint doesn’t look convinced. Whatever, he says. I bet you he’s straight, and I guarantee he’s not into weird panty shit like you are.

Bucky cackles. She /told/ you?!

Chapter Text

The next thing of note that happens is on a Friday evening.

Bucky meets up with Nat and Clint after his 8:00 pm conversation lab is over. The three of them like to hang out at a place called Luke’s, since it’s a little further from campus and never gets too bogged down with the usual college crowd. It’s a small, hole in the wall sort of place, and they’ve made it their end of the week tradition to grab a drink (or two or six) and plan something fun for the weekend.

Bucky’s the last to arrive, sliding into their usual booth and sighing at the near-Pavlovian response that comes from being there with Natasha and Clint. The muscles in his neck and back practically unwind, the tension of a week of classes and exams slipping away with the first sip of beer that meets his lips. It’s the weekend.

He spends the next ten minutes drinking beer and complaining about the incompetent loser that he’s been paired with for Conversational Sign 202. I mean it! he’s saying. I think he genuinely doesn’t like me because I’m hearing. That’s reverse discrimination, you know!

Natasha snorts into her beer, and Clint asks, Why do you even take that class? You sign with us every day.

Yeah but our conversations don’t extend very far past the mundane, Bucky points out. Like sports, or movies, or—

“Jerking off to Steve’s fine ass?” Nat says, smirking into her glass. Clint of course can’t hear her, so he scowls.

“I’m right here,” he says aloud to make his point, since his speaking voice is typically deaf-sounding and they all know he hates using it.

She’s making fun of me about Steve, Bucky tells him, pretending to be peeved. It’s a perfectly normal crush.

Bucky, you wax poetic about the man’s /clothing/.

He’s cute! Bucky defends. In a dorky way. He smiles dreamily into space. I saw him outside the student union building the other day. He didn’t have an interpreter with him and he was trying to talk to a couple of the other professors and like, failing so hard. He was so helpless, like some newly-hatched, sign-language duckling. Bucky imitates the stumbling, stilted sign that Steve had managed to put together.

Clint snickers and concedes, Okay, that is kinda cute, but—

—I KNOW right?! Like a little, disabled sweater vest.

“Oh my god. The two of you, together.” Natasha points at Bucky. “You may not turn my boyfriend gay.”

You can’t tell me he isn’t the hottest man on campus.

Sure he is. But you don’t have to convince Clint of it. And YOU, sir, are a little obsessed.

Clint snorts. A little? This is ALL he can talk about. He looks at Bucky. You need a hobby, dude.

I have a hobby.

Masturbating to Steve at all hours of the day is not a hobby.

Bucky shrugs, not at all embarrassed. He does his due diligence, shuts his bedroom door when he gets down to it. And besides, one out of two of his roommates is deaf. If Clint still knows about his jerk-off habits, it’s not Bucky’s problem. Excuse me if I now get extra horny on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, he says. It’s like clockwork for a reason. Those are the days he’s got his two o’clock Ancient Art History lecture with Natasha, and the class—spent doing nothing but watching Steve talk enthusiastically about French cave paintings and other ancient shit—has basically become an hour and a half-long foreplay session for Bucky to dream up new (and progressively freakier) sexual fantasies before he can hightail it home and jerk off. He’s just so, ugh. You know? And tall and blond and, /god/, he fills out those oxford shirts so well.

Tell us something we don’t know.

Bucky smirks. Well, I can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to get beard burn between my legs.

“Ugh.” Clint makes a face and picks up his beer for a long draw. When he’s set it down he tells them, Changed my mind. You don’t have to sign for my sake.

Bucky and Natasha just laugh at him and change the topic to brainstorming about what they’ll do for fun tomorrow. As long as nobody’s working or studying, Saturdays are when they band together and go out to explore D.C (a city none of them had been to until college). Clint begins trying to talk Bucky into seeing the national monuments. You always say no to my ideas! Come on it’ll be fun. You can do a tour on segues now, segues!

Riiight, Natasha says, dragging her sign into a drawl. Because /that/ wouldn’t make us look like huge, dorky tourists.

I don't care about looking dorky, Bucky says, but it was fifteen freaking degrees out today. They’re even calling for snow on Monday. We can't segue around the city, we'll freeze (My dick'll fall off and then what use will I be to Steve?).

Natasha twists around toward the bar and signals for Luke. He’s the big—like, big—black guy who owns the place. He doesn’t talk much, handles the bar’s security himself, and Nat’s the only one who’s brave enough to order him around. She asks him to send them another round of drinks and gets a cool nod of acknowledgement in return.

So, she says when she turns back around in her seat. Assuming that monuments—/and/ masturbating, Bucky—are off the table, what are we doing tomorrow?

We’ve both got opening shift at /Books and Beans/ on Sunday, Clint points out, still grumpy from having his idea shot down. So whatever it is, it can’t run too late.

Well what am I working with here, Cinderella?

Like… midnight?

Home by eleven, Bucky says. He’s not a pretty creature in the morning. Less so if he hasn’t had a full night’s sleep.

Luke drops off their next round, and Bucky grabs one and glances back towards the door when it jingles and another cluster of people walk in. They’re laughing, talking and shaking the cold off of themselves. One of them points out a free table and everyone nods. Bucky’s eyes catch on one of the men in the group.


Natasha’s in the middle of trying to get Clint on board to go see some sort of avante garde ballet performance or something. Whatever, Bucky doesn’t care. Guys! he hisses (figuratively, not literally), thumping his hands on the table to get their attention. Natasha raises an eyebrow at being interrupted. He’s here.

Who’s here?

My future husband Steve, Bucky says.

Clint looks over towards the front of the bar and his eyes settle, ostensibly having found Steve and his group. Bucky has to physically fight the urge to twist around in his seat and stare.

Can you see him? What’s he doing? Who’s he with?

“Jeez,” Natasha says. “Calm down.”

He’s with three guys, two girls. I don’t recognize any of them. They’re all like, adults.

Bucky scowls. We’re adults.

Barely, and you only on a technicality, Natasha tells him. He’s older than you.

Older’s hot. I’m into older.

—And smarter, and definitely like, cultured and stuff, Clint chimes in. He’s a tenured professor, for Christ’s sake. That means grad school and like, years of teaching. He has to be at least thirty-five..

I’m into thirty-five.

You’re into everything, and he’s out of your league.

Bucky huffs. Okay I get it, jeez. He’s in another echelon, I know!

Like, Mount Olympus, Clint confirms.

Huh. In his head, Bucky pictures it: the pantheon of gods and goddesses that the Greeks believed in. Steve in a toga. Yum. But Zeus and Venus and all those Greek—

Nat is shaking her head. Venus is from the /Roman/—

Whatever. Even they came down to the mortal realm sometimes, didn’t they? To like, interact with people, have a little fun, get a little rapey?


Bucky grins and Clint screws up his face. Ew dude, we do not need to know about any more of your freak-ass weird fetishes.

They’re not that weird. Bucky huffs. Don’t be so theatrical.

Theatrical? You have literally almost suffocated yourself in the process of trying to get off!

You act like I’ve put you through so much (That ONE time he’d had to call Clint in to extricate him from a self-bondage snafu). I’m just adventurous, is all.

Understatement of the year. Clint grabs his beer back up and his phone vibrates where he’s set it on the table. He reads the text he’s gotten, leaving Bucky free to stare without criticism.

He watches wistfully as Steve gets up with three of the people from his group and they head over to the bar’s pool table to start a game. It’s Steve, a blonde chick, a black guy and a guy with curly dark hair that’s graying at the temples, glasses hooked over the edge of his sweater vest. Hm, Bucky thinks. Maybe they’re all professors. He tries to think if he’s ever seen any of the others on campus…

The black guy puts a quarter in the table to get the balls rolling out, and they pair off. Apparently it’s the two guys against Steve and the girl. He hands a cue to her, smiling as he does. She takes it with a flirty wink, and Bucky swallows as Steve moves in close and does the classic straight man move of standing behind her to show her how to line up a shot. Bucky scoffs, thinking that if she can’t shoot pool then she’s definitely not worth Steve’s time (a completely-made up criteria, seeing as how Bucky himself has got no clue how to play). He’s about to look away, when he sees Steve whisper something in the girl’s ear and she laughs and turns to peck a kiss to his cheek.

Bucky huffs. “Well shit.” Only Nat hears him, but maybe she feels bad for giving him such a hard time, because she doesn’t say anything. “Maybe he’s bi?” Bucky asks, hopeful.

“Dare to dream, honey.”

Clint shoots them both a dirty glare. “Deaf guy here,” he says, indicating himself. Use your hands.

Bucky snorts. Oh, I plan to Sorry, buddy. We will.


That Sunday, Bucky gets home from his shift at the book store and drops his backpack with a sigh. He pushes the little button on the wall by the front door that makes a red light flash in each of the townhome’s rooms. Natasha had originally gotten the system for their exterior doorbell, but she’d added the interior button as well to preserve Clint’s sanity. Clint claimed it was creepy as hell to just be sitting quietly in the living room and then have somebody walk by when he hadn’t known they were home in the first place. So yeah, the button was useful (Bucky still likes to sneak up on him from time to time, just because he’s a shit).

Nobody’s in the living room or the kitchen, but Nat and Clint’s coats are thrown over the back of the couch, so Bucky figures they’re both hanging out in Clint’s room or hers. He hums and goes to grab something from the fridge. Cold Pizza? YES. He slaps two pieces on a plate and turns on his heel, enthused now that he’s got cheese, pepperoni and his dick to fill up his afternoon. He’ll use the alone time to go to his room and jerk off, he decides with zero shame. It’s not like he doesn’t know exactly what Clint and Nat are up to right now.

When Bucky gets to his room and shuts the door, he winces, as he can still kind of hear the faint sounds of his best friends fucking from the next room over. Bucky loves Clint and Nat, he really does, but hearing them go at it is one of the few (very few) things that is not on his kink list. He sets his plate aside for later and pops in his earbuds.

He lays on his bed and leans back against the pillows, flicking through his music and relaxing into a nice headspace as he tries to pick what he wants to listen to. Hmm, he thinks. What’s good for a leisurely afternoon wank? Partition?...Naw, sorry Bey. Muse? Coldplay? Something by Portishead? Bucky’s got his finger poised over Glory Box—Live, when he catches the song at the very bottom of the screen. Nine Inch Nails—Closer.

Huh, is he in that kind of mood? Bucky lets his eyes slip closed as he pictures the sound of the song and the kind of sex he’d have with Steve (because let’s be honest, he’s totally about to jerk off to Steve) if it were playing in the background. His lips quirk and he feels his cock twitch in his boxers. That would be a ‘yes’, he thinks, taking his body at its word and pushing play.

The heavy opening pulse of Closer starts, and Bucky unceremoniously shoves his pants and underwear down his thighs, kicking them off to land somewhere on the floor. He lets his head flops down into his pillow and sighs. This is gonna be good. He hasn’t jerked off in forever two days, so he needs this.

His dick is chubbing up nicely against his thigh by the time the lyrics start.

You let me violate you
You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you
You let me complicate you.

Bucky lets his hand graze his cock, bumping it with his knuckles as he brings his hand up to rub over his stomach. He rucks up his tee shirt, uses his left hand to touch his chest while the right slips back down to run over his pubic hair, over the crest of his groin. He sighs, lets his eyes close, and just as Trent Reznor is slipping into the bridge, he wraps his fingers around his cock and pulls.

“Oh,” he says, the barest of sounds escaping his lips. He works his fingers lightly, jacking himself just at the tip to get himself fully-hard. Then when he’s there he swipes his thumb to spread the precum around, and it’s wet and good and suddenly the urge to just frantically rut up into his fist until he comes hits him like a freight train. Bucky has to grit his teeth to fight off the urge. He thinks of Steve, pictures the other man with him, over him, fucking him. With the heavy, dirty-slow beat of the song playing, it’s easy to picture the two of them, naked and tangled together.

It’d be slow, gentle even, but not sweet. No. It’d be the furthest thing from sweet. Steve would push him to his knees, fuck his mouth to the beat of the song. Then he’d haul Bucky up onto the bed, press his face into the mattress and go to town eating his ass.

Bucky’s fingers clench as he thinks about it, his cock pulsing in his grasp. Slowly, he brings his hand down in a long, tight stroke. His lips part and his stomach tightens. He has to open his eyes so that he can look down at himself. The tip of his dick is full and flush now, shiny and pink and desperate-looking as he fists himself. Bucky whimpers. Oh.

Steve wouldn’t speed up, but he wouldn’t let up either, even if Bucky begged. He’d just growl between Bucky’s legs and keep on; licking, sucking, making him feel good, giving him fucking beard burn. Doing everything to the beat of that fucking song.

I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside

Steve would turn him over onto his back. He’d crawl up Bucky’s body like a predator, eyes dark and boring into him. Bucky would only be able to shiver and wait. Steve’s body on top of him, heavy and warm, would press him into the mattress. Maybe he’d kiss Bucky, deep and slow, while he rutted their cocks together.

Bucky’s toes curl as the pleasure in his gut suddenly heightens. He lets go of his cock to back off, not wanting come yet. He rubs over his stomach with his other hand, constantly touching the way that Steve would, almost soothing.

Oh, the dirty things Steve would whisper. Bucky can just hear it, his deep voice murmuring the words into his skin. Some of it would make sense, but some of it would just be filth that he thought up, just nonsensical, unplanned filth. Bucky imagines Steve’s big hands running through his hair, his fingers tightening into a firm hold and pulling Bucky’s head to the side so that he could get his mouth on his neck, whisper even more dirty things against his pulse point. Gonna get in you, he’d say, just to hear Bucky whimper. Want to feel your sweet body milking my dick.

And Steve would just slip right into him, wouldn’t he? Bucky thinks as he goes back to touching himself, hand jerking his cock more insistently now, the other rubbing over his thigh, behind his balls. Steve would draw back, eyes fixed on Bucky’s face and absolutely boring into him, dark and steady. You need this, and I’m going to give it to you whether you want it or not, they’d say. He’d push one of Bucky’s thighs up and get himself slicker, maybe with the lube from Bucky’s bedside drawer—he’d have it close by, Steve’s smart like that. He’d push more slick into Bucky’s hole, stretching him with two fingers, then three, telling Bucky to take it in that low, commanding way.

And when he pushed inside? God, it’d feel so good, so full, so overwhelming. Maybe Bucky would make a sound, crying out or even just a whimper. He’d cradle his legs around Steve, trying to draw him in further. But it’d be no use, because Steve would still be going at that maddening pace, following the song,

Help me
Tear down my reason
Help me
It's your sex I can smell
Help me
You make me perfect
Help me become somebody else

Bucky might try reach down, then, try to touch himself like he’s doing now, to bring himself closer. But he thinks how Steve would growl and catch his wrist, pulling it up and pressing it into the bedsheets up by his head. Don’t you fucking come, he’d say, eyes so dark and serious, almost angry. But it wouldn’t be anger, this thing between them. It’d be something so much better; a throbbing, animalistic urge, thick and hot and intimate between their slick bodies. Bucky would whimper and Steve would reach with his other hand and use it to cover his mouth—no, Bucky thinks, scrapping that idea, because Steve would want to hear all the desperate, plaintive sounds he’d make. So not his mouth, but his neck. Oh yeah, his neck. Bucky grunts as he thinks of it, dick throbbing in his hand and blurting out precum. Steve’s hand would be so big, wrapped around his throat, so warm and heavy and giving just the shadow of a threat. He’d stick his face right into Bucky’s, their lips a hair’s breadth apart, and he’d say, You come when I say, not before.

Oh. Bucky has to close his eyes again as he fists himself faster, hand popping off the head of his dick with every pull. The coil of pleasure in his belly tightens, his hips thrusting up into it now. Steve would finally, finally go faster, his hips pumping into Bucky in firm, deep thrusts, balls slapping his ass. By now he’d be close, Bucky thinks, just barely losing some of that fierce control. He’d be panting, breath heavy and louder. Maybe he’d grunt, thrust harder. That alone would get Bucky closer, his body coiling tight in preparation.

He squeezes tighter, twisting his hand on the upstroke now and rubbing the sensitive frenulum. He’s doing everything he can to reach his peak and denying himself nothing. He trembles and looses a moan, long and low.

Steve would like that, Bucky thinks. He’d moan in tandem, fucking Bucky harder, rougher. If he had enough knowledge of Bucky’s body—and he would, because they’d do this all the fucking time—he’d know just how to pull back, grab Bucky under his knee and push his leg up, angle his cock so it’d rub Bucky’s prostate on every thrust. Yeah, he’d encourage darkly as Bucky got closer and closer. That’s how you need it, isn’t it? You getting close baby?

Bucky digs his head back into his pillow. On his dick, his hand could not be moving faster.

He’d cry out some sort of sound to let Steve know how desperate he was. He’d twist and whine, maybe with tears gathering at the edges of his eyes, wanting it so bad by now. Steve would still be panting, giving it to him so hard and good. He’d be completely out of time with the song by now, faster than the beat but still fucking him like an animal.

Oh, he’s so close. So close…

Steve would give him permission to come, but he’d slap Bucky’s hand away when he reached for himself and growl at him to just come on his dick, and Bucky would thrash and wail and—

I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god

Bucky clenches, seizing up as he comes hard. White flashes behind his eyelids and he grunts, the wet spurt of his come hitting him on his chest, his belly. He stops stroking and squeezes the head in firm pulses as he comes and comes, and pretends that it’s Steve who’s made him do it. “Fuck,” he breathes, releasing all of his tensed muscles at once, head thumping back into the pillow. He relaxes his hold on his dick and presses it gently against his stomach, petting it. He really needs to make this thing with Steve happen.

The song loops back around and plays on repeat once, twice, three times before Bucky’s calmed down and stopped twitching, his breathing evened out. With one last, heavy sigh, he flings his hand out to find his iPod in the sheets. The beat shuts off with a flick of his finger and he tosses it somewhere in the direction of the footboard. “Christ on a stick,” he huffs, then laughs, giddy and so, so relaxed. That had been beyond good. He should try holding off for two days more often, if that’s the kind of intense orgasm that he’d get from it.

He lets himself lay there for a minute, lazy and sort of listening to try and figure out if Clint and Nat are still going at it. He doesn’t hear anything, so if they are, they’ve quieted down. Bucky’s satisfied by that, and he sits up and goes to wipe himself off and fish a pair of pajama pants from his dresser. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. He’s jerked off (spectacularly so, thank you very much). Now it’s time to get some work done.

He parks himself at his desk and gets his laptop, proceeds to open a new Word document. His fingers linger over the keyboard for a long, long minute as he faces the temptation of a sudden, terribly enticing plot bunny. Oh, he thinks. That would be so good!

His eyes dart guiltily over to where his ASL in American Culture book sits, reminding him of the reflection piece he’s supposed to write for next Wednesday… and he sets into typing a new, shameless Mary Sue, casting Dean as (a thinly-veiled version of) himself, and Castiel as (a slightly-more clueless version of) Steve.

Chapter Text

Valentine’s day arrives and Bucky is forced to bear witness to how seemingly every person (but him) on campus is paired up in the throes of a blissful, romantic relationship. The only upside to the season is that Clint buys Natasha the GIANT box of chocolates from the candy store on seventh, and Bucky’s able to steal like, five or six pieces before he’s noticed and threatened with bodily harm.

He may be single, but Bucky loves any occasion for an eye-catching outfit. So he digs out his, Kiss Me: I’m Kinky, sweater and wears it proudly to all of his Tuesday classes. He gets a lot of looks, which he doesn’t mind absolutely revels in. The best reaction of all comes when he’s just outside the library and heading in to research some journal articles on cochlear implants (reliable sources are such a pain in the ass; but ya know, college, so what are you going to do?). He bumps into Steve in the most wonderful fashion, and it’s not even on purpose.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh. Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

“Ugh.” Bucky’s on his ass on the sidewalk, papers everywhere and his latte over there in the snow, and he’s about to let loose on whatever piece-of-shit clueless asshole walked straight into him, but then he opens his eyes and sees that it’s Steve standing above him, looking horrified.

“I am so sorry!” he’s setting aside his own handful of things and bending over to help Bucky up.

Bucky laughs shakily as he gets to his feet. Steve’s hands are kind of lingering around his shoulders, as if he’s prepared to do more, if needed. “I’m okay,” Bucky says, thinking it’s adorable how eager Steve is to help. “Really, it’s—”

“I’m so sorry. Christ, I work on a deaf campus, you’d think I’d learn to watch where I’m going,” Steve huffs. He’s scuttling around now, bent over like a turtle as he picks up all the books and papers Bucky had dropped. Once he’s got them in a messy really pathetic pile and has handed them back to Bucky, he seems to notice the spilt latte in the snow. His cheeks go a fabulous shade of pink. “Oh, jeez,” he mumbles.

Bucky laughs. “Steve, it’s okay.” He’s put his hand out on Steve’s arm without thinking about it, and the feeling of touching the man is just… way more enjoyable than it should be. Their eyes meet and suddenly Bucky has a much more close up view of the blue of Steve’s eyes. “I can, um, just get another one,” Bucky says.

“No! I mean no, I’m the reason you dropped it,” Steve says. “Come on, there’s a coffee bar inside. Let me get you another.”

This is the definition of a meet-cute! Bucky thinks in a freakishly high voice in his head as he lets Steve lead him in through the library doors. He spends a very hot second pretending to convince Steve that he “really doesn’t have to.” Steve, of course, insists, and Bucky stands there with hearts in his eyes as they wait in line like two boyfriends ordering coffee. When Steve asks Bucky what he’ll have, Bucky shamelessly orders the venti of whatever disgustingly-sweet valentine’s concoction is written up on the chalkboard. The barista makes little heart shapes in the foam, and Bucky snickers at the fact that Steve still appears to be blushing.

“Thanks,” he says, once they’ve moved over to one of the cafe tables. He sets his things down, takes his jacket off and drapes it over one of the chairs. “So,” he nods at the table. “You want to sit for a minute?” Steve’s fingers tighten on his messenger bag and his eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. At first Bucky thinks it’s because he’s asked Steve to have a coffee with him, but then he sees where Steve’s eyes have landed. Bucky looks down at his chest, then back up. “Oh, ha. Yeah.” He grins widely. “You like my Valentine’s sweater?” he teases.

Steve clears his throat. “Um, yeah actually. It’s…” he seems unable to find a word.

“Fitting, right?! I saw it in the store and knew I had to have it,” Bucky says boldly. “S’like it was made for me!” He gets a real thrill out of the way Steve’s eyes get a little bit darker, as he realizes what Bucky’s obviously pointing out.

“You’re uh,” he clears his throat again. “Kinky?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Duh.” Pretending that he has no idea he’s made Steve flustered. He picks up his pomegranate-cappe-mocha-whatever and takes a deep sip of it, coming up with what feels like a perfectly-executed foam mustache. He can tell from the way that Steve’s eyes zero in on his face that it is. “What?” he asks, playing dumb.

Steve makes an abortive gesture near his own face. “You’ve got a, uh…” He shakes his head and chuckles quietly then, almost as if laughing at himself. “You’ve got something on your lip.”

All of a sudden they are VERY CLOSE TOGETHER and Steve is reaching up to wipe the foam off his lip. He smiles awkwardly and shrugs, then sucks his goddamn finger into his mouth with a shrug. Bucky gapes.

“Got it,” Steve says, all hum-drum and probably definitely not realizing what a boner-inducing move he’s just performed.

I mean, yeah, Bucky knows he’s the one who instigated it, but come on. He stares at Steve, trying to think of a way to excuse himself so that he can go jerk off in the restroom. “I’m gay,” is what comes out of his mouth. “Very gay, so…”

(This one time, Clint had been clever and wrapped up a furnace filter and given it to Bucky for Christmas)

Surprisingly, Steve doesn’t get super-flustered, he just smiles at Bucky like he’s the weirdest human he’s ever met. “I see,” he says, smiling. “Good for you?”

“Professor Rogers!” somebody calls as they approach, and Bucky can only watch as some girl bounces up with a smile on her face and an extra coffee cup in-hand. “Hey.”

Steve smiles, and it’s a pure, genuinely nice-to-see-you smile. “Hey Sharon,” he says. “I hope you’re in here to work on your thesis for my class.” He says it teasingly, flirty, and Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat. Fuck.

Sharon laughs, and Bucky wants to sneer but he smiles instead like he’s part of this conversation. “Sure,” Sharon says, then she pushes her extra coffee into Steve’s chest. “Here ya go. I remember you said you like black coffee, which is disgusting, by the way.”

Steve chuckles again and says something else to her, but Bucky doesn’t hear it because he’s too busy lamenting this disaster that’s happening right in front of him.

Fuck, he’s so straight. Fuck.


And why does the fact that Steve’s straight make the fantasies better? That is the question, because every sexual thing Bucky does after the ‘library incident’ somehow involves thoughts of having a threesome with Steve and some girl (and of course guiding Steve to a super-gay sexual awakening). Bucky doesn’t even like girls! He sure as hell doesn’t like the obnoxious whore pretty young thing that’d shoved a coffee at Steve with hearts in her eyes. Ugh.

He figures that he must like unobtainable. Unobtainable is hot. Greek gods, and all.


One thing that’s not a thing for him, is disability. Don’t get him wrong, Bucky doesn’t discriminate. He just doesn’t fetishize what other people don’t have (except for Steve and his adorable inability to sign, that is). Living at Gallaudet, Bucky’s had plenty of opportunity to be with deaf guys. It’s absolutely no different from having sex with hearing people, obviously, except for two things: one, deaf people don’t engage in buttloads of dirty talk in bed. Bucky loves dirty talk, but strangely enough, being pounded into the mattress by someone whom he knows can’t speak, just makes the non-verbal stuff that much hotter. Every dark look, every bruising grab and hard, unyielding thrust, carries so much more intensity. It’s hot. The second difference is that Bucky doesn’t have to worry about accidentally calling out the wrong name in bed.

He still does it. It’s hard enough not to when you’re as promiscuous as he is, then there’s the added burden of his ridiculously-strong imagination. Fact is, he’s equally likely to utter the name of last weekend’s fuck, this week’s crush, or a character from some smutty fanfic he’s read.

The beauty is that when it’s a deaf person he’s rolling around with, nothing happens. He’ll cringe and wince, expecting to be shouted at and smacked upside the head, but then the fucking just continues and everybody gets to come in the end, no harm no foul (Clint tells him he’s an asshat for seeing the benefit in this, but then again, Clint calls him an asshat for lots of things).

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said when it’s a blind guy he’s fucking. Matt Murdock is pre-law, and Bucky kind of meets him by accident. He runs into him—in much the same fashion that he ran in to Steve, except for way more embarrassing because hello: blind guy on his ass in the snow.

Matt takes it in stride, grinning and telling Bucky to calm the fuck down, he’ll live. They grab a beer that evening and Bucky fully-appreciates the ability to flat out ogle without being caught, while Matt drones on about all sorts of important boring law things. It isn’t long until Bucky realizes that Matt’s cool confidence is hot like burning, and he needs him in his bed right away.

They crash through the doors of Bucky’s townhouse on the way to the bedroom (and not because of Matt). From there on they’re a mess of groping hands and hot, frantic kisses. Matt seems to like to take charge, which Bucky is more than fine with because holy hell, does he do it well. He grips Bucky’s hair and uses it like a lead to control him, shoves him against the wall and slots his thigh between Bucky’s legs and calls him a pretty little bitch. “How would you know?” Bucky snarks, and Matt rewards him with a smack across his cheek. Bucky groans, thinking he’s found his dream guy.

They wrestle on the bed until Bucky winds up on top, pressing a hand to the back of Matt’s neck and fucking down against his ass. Matt groans and struggles, but Bucky just lays fully atop him, licks a wet stripe up the back of his neck. “You’re pretty strong, for a blind guy,” he says, just because it makes no sense and he’s hoping for a reaction. He runs a hand down Matt’s ribcage, feeling the solidness of him. “You work out, hm?” Matt jerks and Bucky smiles, holding fast. “What’s your go-to? Team sports? Zumba?”

Matt laughs and rubs back against him. “Smartass.” Suddenly, he jerks, flipping them over before Bucky knows what’s happened. And dear lord he's strong fucking yes! Matt smirks down at him, bangs in his face. “Wrestling,” he mouths.

“Should’a known.”

Matt surges down, shoving his tongue in Bucky’s mouth and shutting him up. They frott together for a while, kissing and shoving each other around, though Bucky is more than content to be the loser in the equation (He loves being manhandled).

When it comes down to it, Matt is poised back on his knees with Bucky’s ass in his lap, smiling at him even though he can’t see him, both of their chests heaving with the exertion of their struggles. Bucky pushes a condom and lube into Matt’s hand and orders him to get to work, which he does. “’You ready?” Matt asks, stroking his dick lazily once he's got the condom on and Bucky's absolutely dripping with lube. Bucky wraps his legs around him and rolls them until he’s astride Matt. He bends down, holds Matt’s cock right to his entrance and and puts his lips to the shell of his ear. “M’gonna make you see stars, baby,” he whispers, before sinking down and taking him into his body.

Matt grunts and huffs something about ‘not seeing anything, dumbass’, but Bucky doesn’t pay attention because he knows he’ll have the guy singing another tune in a hot minute.

...All that wonderful buildup, and it has to come crashing down. Matt is balls-deep in Bucky and gripping him so mean and good, then Bucky has to go opening his big mouth and the next thing he knows, Matt is gone.

“What the fuck, man?! Not cool.”

“I’m sorry!” Bucky pleads, watching helplessly as Matt rolls out of the bed and starts grabbing up his clothes (with startling accuracy, mind you). “Come on, it was just a slip.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Bucky,” Matt says, putting emphasis on his name. “I’m Matt, not ‘Steve’, whoever the hell that is.”


“You can’t go calling out some rando’s name the first freaking time we’re fucking each other!”

Bucky grins. “First time? You mean there’s going to be a second?”

Matt huffs, yanking on his pants. “There was. But like I said: it’s a matter of principle.” He grabs his cane with his tee shirt still slung over his shoulder and heads for the door. “See you around.”

Bucky just barely manages to keep from throwing a ‘you’re blind!’ retort at his back.

Guh. He flops back onto his bed and jerks off, frustrated and angry. After he’s come and is sullenly wiping the mess off his stomach, he resolves to fuck only deaf guys from now on. At least until he can get his big mouth under control.

Chapter Text

Natasha is flicking through the channels as Bucky stalks investigates @professor_steveg (something that he’s only just discovered and which is a GiftFromGod). Bucky wouldn’t have pegged the professor as one to broadcast his attractiveness on social media, but Bucky would’ve been wrong. Already he’s discovered at least a dozen photos that he needs to save to his hard drive. “That’s kind of an overstatement,” he mumbles. “It’s not that bad.”

“I’m just saying: there are plenty of movies that show exactly where this type of obsessive behavior ends.”

“Yeah?” He says, only half paying attention to her. “And where’s that?”

“You in prison, after having held the poor man hostage in your bedroom for like three days or something. Maybe microwaving his cat.”

Bucky looks up, alarmed. “His cat?!” (Steve is clearly a dog person, Nat).

Clint comes in from the kitchen and sees the screen of Bucky’s laptop. Found his Instagram?

You know it.

Clint laughs and flops onto the couch next to Natasha. You shouldn’t encourage it, she tells him.

God, the man is just… ugh. Bucky flips the screen around so that Nat and Clint can see. He’s so appropriately hairy!

Natasha raises an eyebrow and Clint snorts like he’s choking. When he’s regained his breath he asks, Please, do tell. What is ‘appropriately’ hairy?

Bucky just grunts and flicks the screen back around. If you have to ask, there’s no point in me explaining. He ignores Clint and Natasha then, spending the remainder of his evening flipping between working on his homework and pining over Professor Rogers’ forearms.


Bucky really does need to expand his sign vocabulary as part of his undergrad requirements. But he starts to regret not having arranged to audit a math course or something, instead of ancient art history. It’s bad, because he’s only half-focusing on the interpreter every time he and Nat go to the twice-weekly lectures. That Thursday, they sit in the fourth row back from the front of the lecture hall. They’ve been progressively shifting forward each week, much to Natasha’s embarrassment. “I need to see what the interpreter’s doing with his hands!” Bucky argues, even though they both know that’s a total lie.

Steve is up front, lecturing about Venus statues, showing slides of like, fat boob stone ladies. Bucky wrinkles his nose at it, then turns to Natasha, continuing his complaining that he’d started before. It’s becoming a real problem! he signs. I mean interpreting is going to be my /career/, and pretty soon my hands aren’t gonna be insurable!

Natasha snickers. Serves you right, nympho.

Bucky growls and signs a very rude phrase to her.

“Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky freezes. Oooh. Slowly, he turns from Natasha back to the front of the classroom. Steve is standing there, staring right up at him, arms crossed. Bucky feels heat rush to his face. “Um, yes?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Is there something important that you need to add to the discussion?”

Nope. The blood leaves Bucky’s face and goes straight for his dick. His lips part and he shakes his head helplessly. “No, Sir.”

And is it just his imagination, or is that a smirk that flashes over Steve’s face? It’s gone in the blink of an eye, Steve going right back to his lecture, but Bucky doesn’t care. He’s just popped a boner in his pants.

Steve had sounded so stern, and then he’d smirked. Bucky saw it, it was real, it happened. Oh, god. Natasha glances weirdly over at him, and Bucky has to sink lower in his seat. He grabs his notebook and slips it over his lap. He gulps and looks back down to the front of the room. Steve isn’t looking at him. He’s back to pacing slowly, using the remote control to flip through slides of the fat stone ladies and talk passionately about them. He’s in professor mode, and Bucky’s blood thrums hot under his skin.

What would Steve do if Bucky disrupted the class again? How mad would he be?

Bucky’s half-contemplating speaking out of turn, maybe laughing or something and making an ignorant comment about the fat goddess statues, just to get Steve’s attention. He imagines it: Steve turning slowly to him, face stern, mouth pulled tight and eyes burning. Bucky nearly groans, but he holds it in. His prick is throbbing in his pants, and he presses the notebook down against it roughly. Fuck, now he’s picturing Steve calling him up to the front, like some naughty school child. Steve talking down to him, scolding him. Steve ordering him to remove the notebook from over his crotch, seeing his erection and snickering without any sympathy. You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you Barnes? Get off on making trouble in my class? Steve ordering him to bend over his desk, right there in front of everyone. Steve unbuckling his belt and pulling it free from the loops of his pants—Going to have to teach you a lesson, hm?—and bringing it down, hard. ‘Smack!’

Bucky’s hips jerk, and he comes with a strangled whimper, shoving his hand up over his mouth in a last-second attempt to disguise it. Inside, he is FREAKING OUT. Oh my god, he thinks, no way. No way did he just…

He did. Natasha is giving him a weird look, and Bucky just shakes his head to get her to stop. “M’fine,” he says, face burning. She goes back to paying attention to the lecture, and Bucky is allowed to come down from his mortification on his own. He has to figure out how he’s going to get back home without anybody seeing the giant come stain that’s now on the front of his pants.

He already knows what kind of porn he’s going to be watching tonight.


So Bucky has this sort of… standing date, with a friend ex-boyfriend-turned-fuckbuddy.

Gavin had never been the best in terms of relationship material, but he was decidedly kinky, and once they’d broken up the sex had gotten so much better. Strange, but honestly? It worked. Bucky didn’t try to overanalyze it.

Anyway, they have a standing date. Once a month or so, the two of them get together at one of the low-end theaters near campus, and they sit in the back row and fool around.

“Fooling around” usually amounts to Gavin pulling Bucky into his lap and jerking him off while whispering absolute utter filth into his ear. He gets hard against Bucky’s ass every time, but he never asks for anything—Never did, even when they were dating. He had always been the one in control, telling Bucky what to do and making him cry and come but never taking anything for himself. It was like he got off on just the dominance alone.

Bucky’s not really sure how that works, has never quite been able to grasp the concept of being a “stone top,” though he knows that’s what Gavin is. All he knows is that he likes what he gets out of it, and that’s what matters.

So yeah. Once a month Bucky lets Gavin Dom him in the back of the theater. They have yet to be caught.

There’s a remake of some old war movie out that Bucky has zero interest in seeing. Gavin waits until the main plotline is underway before he slides one of his hands over to Bucky’s thigh. Bucky feels his pulse tick up a notch, skin prickling in anticipation just like always. God, does he love these date nights. Slowly, his eyes slide to the side. Gavin’s not even looking at him.

That’s part of it, too. Bucky loves how his ex-boyfriend makes him come undone and acts like he’s not even invested in it. Like Bucky’s just a chore he has to get on with. It’s degrading in a nice sort of way. Bucky moves his gaze down to where Gavin’s touching him. He’s rubbing up and down the top of Bucky’s thigh, massaging the muscle there. Bucky shifts in place as he feels the blood collecting in his groin. His dick twitches in his underwear, and he has to fight the urge to reach and adjust himself in his pants, maybe give himself an indulgent squeeze.

That’s another part of it. Bucky’s not allowed to do anything for himself. He has to wait and be good, let Gavin decide what he feels and when he feels it. On his thigh, Gavin is still kneading slowly, not having made any progress. But Bucky doesn’t let that worry him; Gavin always lets him come before the end credits roll.

“Can I—”

“Shut up,” Gavin mumbles, low and commanding and sounding completely sure that his order will be obeyed. It is. Bucky’s lips snap shut. Gavin hums, pleased. “How’ve you been? Hm?” His hand moves closer to the crotch of Bucky’s jeans, rubbing just at the crease of his groin now. “Been good for me?” he asks.

“Yes,” Bucky breathes. He’s staring down at Gavin’s hand. Mentally willing it to move up…

“When’s the last time you got off then?” he asks, sounding smug.

Bucky whimpers. “I—”

Don’t you lie to me,” Gavin growls, quiet and low. The movie on screen is pretty loud, so Bucky knows they don’t stand a chance of being heard. Still, the idea that they’re sitting so close to other people, that anybody could just turn around and see what they’re doing, what Bucky’s allowing to be done to him, gets him hard. “I’m under no illusions,” Gavin is saying. “I know what a whore you are. So tell me: when’s the last time?”

Bucky exhales, shuddery. “Yesterday.” The sound of Gavin’s laugh is demeaning, cruel. It makes Bucky curl his toes inside his sneakers. “M’sorry,” he says, feeling anything but.

“No you’re not. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks. Before Bucky can formulate an answer he says, “You see something you like and you’re off like a shot, aren’t you? Humping somebody’s leg or your own goddamn pillow.”

Bucky shivers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. There’s a boy.” Gavin slides his hand (finally) over the crotch of Bucky’s pants, cupping him where his dick is rapidly hardening. He curls his fingers over the bulge and squeezes. Bucky grunts and Gavin laughs at him. “You’re good, letting me touch you like this.”

Bucky hums and lets his eyes slip shut for a moment, focusing on the sensation of Gavin’s warm hand palming him, of his jeans growing too tight. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Sir, please.”

Gavin makes a darkly pleased sound. “Oh it’s ‘Sir’ is it?” he asks. “Don’t even have to be told. Just ready to be my good boy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes. He opens his eyes and looks over to meet Gavin’s. “You know I am.”

Gavin’s smile slips right off his face, straight back to stoic and detached. “Get over here,” he says, removing his hand and settling further back in his seat. Bucky gulps but listens. He gets up from his seat, not standing up all the way because he’s paranoid it’ll draw attention to them, even though the theater is dark and loud, and they’re sitting in the very back.

He shuffles over and stops. When he lowers himself to sit, Gavin’s hands find his hips and guide him down to his lap. “There ya go,” he drawls, sounding satisfied. He’s not hard against Bucky’s backside. Yet. Bucky squirms in place and Gavin pinches him, hard, on his inner thigh. Even through the jeans it hurts, and Bucky has to fight to keep in a squeak. “Relax, darlin,” Gavin says. He puts his lips to Bucky’s ear and reaches around to undo the button of Bucky’s fly and draw down his zipper. “Look at that,” he whispers, as his hand delves inside and cups his erection through the fabric of his underwear. Bucky groans. “You get worked up so damn easy,” Gavin says, and he grabs hold of Bucky’s dick and brings it up towards the waistband of his underwear, thumbs over the wet spot that his precum makes. “Yeah, I can feel it,” he says. “Creaming your panties already, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Bucky grits his teeth to keep in the moan that wants to come at that. God. His hips buck up against Gavin’s hold without control. “I bought some,” he says, not thinking before he speaks. “Real silky and pretty. Should’a worn them for you.”

Gavin is very, very quiet for a moment. For a second Bucky thinks he’s done something wrong, made him mad somehow (not exactly hard to do, with his ex). But Gavin exhales hotly against Bucky’s cheek and says, “Yeah you should have.” Bucky smiles. “You’ll do that for me next time though, won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Bucky says.

“Good boy.” Gavin gives him a nip against his neck. “Did you bring what I told you to?”

Bucky tenses. Not because he forgot—he didn’t; and not because the thought of it doesn’t excite him—it does; but because they’ve never taken it this far. He’s never let Gavin put something in him while they’re in the middle of a crowded movie theater. “Yeah,” he manages, before reaching down to fish the butt plug and lube out of his bag. He straightens up and hands them to Gavin, who praises him.

“Sit up for me,” he says, and Bucky has to swallow before he can listen and do it. It’s so, so nerve-wracking, leaning forward in Gavin’s lap and feeling him ease his pants down over his ass. Bucky glances around nervously, trying to reassure himself that nobody can see them. No one’s looking, of course, but the unease still claws at his guts, making him squirm in more than just arousal. Behind, Gavin tells him he can sit back. Bucky does.

When he glances down, he can see that he doesn’t really look exposed in the front. His fly is open but his cock is covered, which helps calm him a little. Bucky tries to control his breathing as he can feel Gavin’s fingers start to explore him, back there. They’re wet with the lube, and it isn’t long before he’s pushing one in, wiggling it around inside of him, and adding another. “Gotta loosen up for me baby,” he coos. “If I’m gonna stuff you full with this pretty plug you brought me.”

Bucky groans silently and lets his head tip back, landing on Gavin’s big shoulder. Gavin chuckles and presses his fingers more insistently, using his free hand to rub under his t shirt and over his belly, almost soothing. “There you go,” he says. “How’s that feel?”

“Good,” Bucky says, mouth feeling dry. “Really good. Can you—oh!” He cuts off with a tiny gasp as Gavin beats him to the chase, crooking his fingers inside Bucky’s body and pressing firmly into his prostate. “God, yeah,” Bucky huffs. Distantly, he registers that the movie theater is filled with the loud sounds of explosions and guns and soldiers screaming out orders. He sends a silent prayer of thanks out that they’d chosen the war movie. “Gavin, Sir. Put it in me. I’m ready I swear.”

Gavin tutts against his neck as if he’ll disagree, but his fingers leave Bucky’s body and a second later he’s pressing the tip of the plug against his hole. “Open up,” he says, and then he pushes and the plug slips in. It settles in his body, and Bucky breathes through it. “How’s that?” Gavin asks quietly.

“Mm, good.” Bucky hands him the controller, knowing that he shouldn’t beg but doing it anyway. “Turn it on, please?”

Gavin’s one hand moves from his backside and up front to fist his dick through his underwear. “Greedy,” he says, scolding. “You need to learn some patience, you know that?” He jerks his hand over Bucky’s covered dick and laughs at the whimper that Bucky tries to smother into his neck. “Naw, doll. Don’t hide. You know I like to hear all those pretty noises.”

Bucky pants, pulls his mouth away from Gavin’s skin to look down at where he’s touching him. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yes Sir.”

“Good boy.” Gavin’s other hand slides from his belly up to his neck, where he holds him around his throat like a collar. Bucky whimpers and Gavin shushes him. “Yeah, I know you like that.” Over Bucky’s underwear, he’s stroking him steadily now, squeezing and thumbing over the head. “Let’s get this little cock of yours out, why don’t we?” He doesn’t wait for Bucky to answer, just pulls Bucky’s briefs down until they’re tucked behind his balls. “Ooh, baby,” he croons. “Always so smooth for me, ain’tcha?” His fingers tap against Bucky’s freshly-shaven sac. “So pretty.”

Bucky whines, feeling overwhelmed and loving it. He always feels so out of control when Gavin does this to him, every time. “Please,” he says. “Please, please.”

“Please what?” Gavin asks, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Want me to jerk you off now?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He laughs and holds Bucky’s cock against his belly, jostles his legs underneath him and makes the plug shift inside. “How’s that feel?” he asks him. “Want me to turn it on?”

Bucky’s hips jerk again, uncontrollably. “Yes,” he says urgently. “Please. Do it.” Gavin doesn’t make him beg any more than that. He uses the remote to turn the toy onto its lowest setting and the plug thrums to life inside Bucky’s ass. He jerks in Gavin’s hold at the feeling of it. “Oh! Shit.”

Gavin presses a kiss to the shell of his ear and hums. “Gotta be quiet now, sweetheart, or everyone’ll see.” Below, his hand has returned to stroke Bucky’s shaft, firm but just barely moving. “You don’t want that now, do you?”

Bucky whimpers and squirms, and it’s reassuring to feel Gavin’s strong arms reign him in, keep him pulled back against his body. “No,” Bucky breathes, voice nothing more than a whisper. “No, no. Gav—Sir. No I don’t.”

“Naw,” Gavin agrees. “You’re real shy, aren’t you? Can’t let everybody see you with your cock out, squirming on your Sir’s lap.”

Bucky shakes his head weakly. “No.”

“Mm mn. No that’d be so embarrassing, wouldn’t it?” he asks. “What would people think? They’d see everything.” Bucky keens, the sound only muffled because his hand shoots up to cover his own mouth. “Put your fucking hand down,” Gavin hisses at him, and when Bucky doesn’t immediately comply, he grabs his wrist and yanks it down for him. “There, that’s better.” He thumbs the plug’s vibrations up a notch and jostles his legs again, laughing when Bucky pants. “Yeah. You’re all about that, aren’t you? Always were. I barely have to touch your cock, do I?”

“No, Sir,” Bucky says, half-terrified that Gavin will stop touching his cock. “Please. I like it.”

“I know baby, I know.” The hand that Gavin has on his cock moves a little more then, stroking up and down further on his cock. He still goes slow but his grip is tight and slick, just barely bumping the frenulum each time before sinking back down. He’s avoiding Bucky’s cockhead on purpose, keeping the pleasure at a constant thrum, hot and all-encompassing but not enough to get him close. Bucky squeezes his eyes closed and feels a few tears of frustration building at the edges. “Oh, shit.”

“Sh, sh, shh,” Gavin hushes him, almost soothing. “Hey, why don’t you open your eyes, baby boy. Look up and see. You’ve got an admirer, I think.”

Bucky’s halfway to floating and it takes him a moment to even process what Gavin is saying. When he does, he blinks his eyes open to look around in confusion. “Huh?” he says.

“Over there, look.” Gavin directs his gaze to the theater aisle, to the row of seats just across from theirs. There’s only one person sitting there, and he’s staring straight at them, lips parted in surprise. It’s Steve.

OhMyGodOhMyGod. Bucky’s eyes widen in shock and he jerks in Gavin’s hold. “Gavin!” he hisses, ass thrumming even harder from the plug’s vibrations as he wiggles. “Gavin, stop. You have to stop!”

Gavin doesn’t stop, though. He hugs Bucky back against his body tighter, keeping him pinned and not removing his hand from Bucky’s cock. Bucky whimpers. “Shhh,” Gavin says, and his breath is hot against Bucky’s ear. “Calm down. Look at him. He likes it.”

Bucky’s breath is heaving. He looks at Steve, panic and shock still shooting through him and prickling goosebumps into his skin. “I, I know him,” he tells Gavin, as if this will make the man stop fisting his cock. It doesn’t.

“Mm, that makes sense,” Gavin says darkly. “He’s been watching for a while.”

Bucky whimpers and jerks again, panicked at the thought of being seen. “Don’t, babe,” Gavin says, and it’s clear from the sound of his voice that he’s actually speaking to Bucky. “Look at him; he’s not upset. He’s not going to let you get caught.”

Bucky blinks, relaxing marginally into Gavin’s hold. “He… what?”

“Look at him,” Gavin says. “He’s hard. He’s getting off on it.”

Bucky calms enough to really look at Steve. He sees his dark pupils, his slack mouth and the way his thighs are splayed wide in his seat. At the front of his pants, there’s a bulge. Steve’s one hand is at the top of his thigh, looking like he’s trying hard to keep from touching himself. “Oh,” Bucky breathes, feeling the panic of only seconds ago slipping away to be replaced by a whole new surge of arousal. “Oh my god.” It’s Steve, he realizes. Steve is sitting right there. And he’s staring, and he likes it. “Shit.”

Gavin hums in agreement, bends to lick a hot stripe up Bucky’s neck. “Yeah. I saw him after I got the plug in you. He was watching.”

Bucky groans. “No, no.”

Yes,” Gavin goads. “He hasn’t looked away since.” Bucky whimpers at that. He tries to look away from Steve but only succeeds for a second. Soon his eyes are drawn back, and he feels frozen. Steve looks the same as always; dressed too good for the occasion, beard and hair so perfectly groomed. Only now his eyes are dark and aroused, just like they’ve been in every fantasy Bucky’s entertained of the man. Fuck. “You know him, huh?” Gavin asks. Bucky nods mutely. “How?”

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Gavin’s upped the level of vibration and his hand jerks him quicker and closer to the head of his cock. Bucky makes a choking noise. “Oh!” He bites his lip. “He’s my—uh—He teaches on campus.”

Gavin squeezes. “He’s deaf?”

“No.” Bucky’s eyes are absolutely riveted on Steve, and Steve’s on him. It makes Bucky want to squirm out of his skin, makes him feel frozen in place. He’s sure he’s never felt more humiliated, more out of control in his life. “No he’s—” Bucky groans, grinds back onto the plug. Behind him, he can feel how Gavin’s gotten hard. “He’s hearing.”

“Hm. So that means he can hear you. Can hear all the slutty sounds you’re making.”

Bucky gasps in alarm at that, and suddenly Steve’s dark stare is so much more intimidating. “He—he can’t. I’m not!”

Gavin laughs at him again, and god, he’s stroking faster than ever. Bucky’s getting close…

“I dunno babe, you’re pretty loud,” he says, just to make Bucky whine. “Pretty soon everybody in this place is going to know what you’re doing. Then what’ll you do?”

God, please no. I can’t,” Bucky cries, but he’s not struggling anymore. He’s writhing in Gavin’s hold, hips thrusting against his grasp.

“You’ll finish, won’t you?” Gavin husks against his ear, sounding gone for the idea himself. “I know you. You’re such a slut for it. You’re close now. Doesn’t matter how many people see. You’ll finish.”

Bucky hitches a sob, knows he’d be wailing right now if they weren’t in public. “Yes,” he gasps, giving in to what Gavin’s saying. He’s staring right at Steve and Steve straight back at him. He can’t look away, can’t get away from that stare or the plug or from Gavin’s tight hold on him. He can’t do anything but give in, humping up into the squeeze of Gavin’s fist. “Oh,” he gasps, breath hitching. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna.” Fuck he’s so close, and Gavin’s encouraging it, is murmuring sweet, filthy words in his ear and rubbing him just the right way.

Bucky stares at Steve and Steve at him, and it’s so much. It’s too much. “Steve,” he breathes, loudly enough for the other man to hear from where he’s sitting across the aisle. Steve’s jaw clenches, hard. His hand twitches and then he slides it over the crotch of his pants, and squeezes.

Bucky shoots into orgasm.

Chapter Text

Something has to be done about it, Bucky decides. He can’t go on like this. Less than a full week ago, Steve fucking Rogers saw him get jerked off in a movie theater, touched himself while watching it, and then got up and left before Bucky could do a thing.

Now Bucky’s sat through two art history lectures and gotten absolutely no looks from Steve. He’s tried, has spent the entire cumulative three and a half hours staring directly at Steve, willing him to glance his way. But no such luck. Steve seems dead set on ignoring him, and Bucky hasn’t learned one damn new sign in a week. He’s missing basically all vocab on Mesopotamian frescos! This has got to stop.

So he corners Steve. It’s just before another class, and Bucky arrives a whole thirty minutes early, hoping against hope that nobody else but Steve will be in the room. Luck is on his side, because when he walks through the door (and closes it, mind you), Steve is the only one there. He’s at the whiteboard, doodling with a marker. Bucky walks right up to him and clears his throat. “Professor?”

Steve’s shoulders stiffen and he caps the marker, setting it down. The sight of his fine ass in those dorky as hell corduroy pants is a sad thing to lose as he turns around to face Bucky, but at least it’s replaced by his pretty face. “Mr. Barnes,” he says. “Early for once?” His eyebrow is raised but his face is calm. He even sticks his hands into his pockets, which is ridiculous. Bucky feels about ready to vibrate out of his clothes and here Steve is, being all relaxed and nonchalant? Ugh. Bucky licks his lips and forces himself to say,

“Yeah, um. I wanted to talk to you.”

Steve nods. “I have office hours for that.” He turns back around to resume scribbling on the whiteboard (really, it’s actually quite a skilled drawing, what he’s doing), seemingly having dismissed the issue. “There’s a clipboard on the door,” he says without even looking back at Bucky. He sounds bored. “Make an appointment there.”

Bucky feels like he scowls. “What? No.” He sets his bag down and steps up closer. “Fuck your clipboard, Steve. I need to talk to you about last Saturday.”

This seems to do it for Steve, because as soon as he faces Bucky again, his air of nonchalance is gone. He’s smirking. “Last Saturday?” he asks airily.

Bucky curses him. He’s going to make him say it, the bastard. “Yes,” he says. “Last Saturday. The movie theater. You saw me.”

Steve blinks, his lips twitch. “Oh yeah. That.”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, that. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I guess I’d just like to hear you say it,” Steve says. He’s clearly amused and it makes Bucky’s cheeks burn. It wouldn’t be so embarrassing for him but for that fact that Steve has been pretty clear that he prefers ditzy blonde women.

Bucky glares at him. “You saw me with Gavin.”

“That his name?” Something unidentifiable flicks through Steve’s eyes.

“Yeah that’s his name. He’s my ex.”

“Seemed pretty familiar for an ex,” Steve challenges.

“Yeah well, I’m adventurous.”

“You’ve mentioned that.”

“Hm, yeah.” Bucky’s head jerks to the side as he hears the door to the classroom opening. Two people enter, and they only spare Bucky and Steve a glance and a quick wave before falling back into their signed conversation and heading to grab seats. Bucky looks tensely back to Steve. The two of them both know that those students are deaf, but Bucky lowers his voice to a terse whisper anyway when he continues on to say, “You didn’t just see me. You watched. The whole time.”

“I did,” Steve agrees, still aggravatingly calm.

“You touched yourself,” Bucky hisses, glancing nervously back to the other students—who aren’t even paying them any attention. “You got off on it.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “So what are we talking about?” he says. “You have yet to tell me anything that the both of us don’t know.”

Bucky frowns. This conversation is not going the way that he’d planned it out in his head. Steve is supposed to blush and be mortified, then when Bucky wolfishly corners him, he’s supposed to melt under the filthy talk and passionate kiss Bucky gives—”

“Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky snaps back to attention. “Don’t call me that,” he hisses. “It’s Bucky. And I want to…” he flounders. “I want to ask you, um…”

“What do you want to ask me, Bucky?” Steve says, and his voice has gone low and he’s taking a step closer to Bucky. Any closer and it’ll be inappropriate. A wave of heat flows through Bucky’s stomach at the look that Steve is giving him now. “What,” he repeats, this time pointedly, “do you want?”

He waits, as if he’s got all day for Bucky to answer, even though more students are bound to come pouring in soon. Feeling halfway panicked, Bucky blurts, “You, okay? I want you.”

Steve smiles. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Sex, Steve,” Bucky tells him. “I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck me. I want to do all the things with you and it’s really a very big problem, since I spend more of this lecture time thinking about calling you Daddy than I do actually learning any useful art-history sign.” Steve’s smile has grown and he looks utterly delighted at what Bucky’s just said—way too delighted for a straight man. Bucky licks his lips, impatient for Steve to reply. “Well?

Steve gets a hold of himself, stops smiling so much. Three more students enter the room and take seats. Steve says, “I agree that this does warrant further conversation.”


“But it’ll have to wait for another time.”

“I’m not signing up on your fucking clipboard, Steve,” Bucky grits. He’s panicking because they’re out of time. More people are filing in. Fuck.

Steve walks over to his desk and grabs something and begins scribbling on it. He brings it over and hands it to Bucky and tells him, “I wouldn’t expect you to be able to follow the rules so well, Mr. Barnes.” Bucky’s guts twist (in a good way) at the strict way Steve is back to addressing him, and he’s about to respond but Steve says, “Hello, Ms. Romanov,” first, and fuck, Natasha’s there. She comes up to Bucky’s side.

Bucky quickly shoves whatever piece of paper Steve had handed him into his pocket. “Hey Nat,” he says.

“Hi.” She’s looking at him weirdly. Bucky hasn’t told her about the movie theater incident. “You ready to grab a seat?”

Bucky nods mutely and lets himself be guided back to the auditorium seating. Nat doesn’t stop until they get to the tenth row, which puts them pretty high up above Steve where he’s back to ignoring Bucky. Bucky looks at Natasha. So we’re back to sitting in the stratosphere? he signs petulantly.

Natasha rolls her eyes. Yes. Until you tell me what the hell is going on between you two.

Bucky shrugs and sinks further into his seat. “Nothing,” he says, and his hand slips into his pocket and pulls out the paper from before. It’s Steve’s business card, he sees, listing his full title and professional contact information on the front. Bucky flips it over and sees what Steve had written on the back. It’s his home address, a time, and one word: Tonight. Bucky inhales sharply and looks back up to Natasha. “Nothing at all,” he says, unable to care whether she picks up on the lie or not. This is it, he thinks. Fuck, all of his fantasies are going to come true. Steve isn’t upset and he sure as hell isn’t straight. He’s into Bucky.

Bucky grins and fails to pay attention for the entire lecture. He just stares at Steve’s hands (and god, his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves halfway through the lecture) and listens to his voice and dreams his many kinky little dreams. This. is. it.


Eight o’clock that night, and Bucky has gone to the address that Steve wrote on the card. Just like Bucky had suspected, it’s his home address. Steve lives in a very small townhome that is smooshed in the middle of a winding street of similar homes. It’s crowded and quaint and kind of looks like one of the seven dwarves might pop out at any moment. But it’s also a neighborhood that’s about a hot second from Georgetown, and Bucky spots a Bentley parked in the driveway. “Stevo,” he murmurs at the doormat as he waits. “What’re they paying you teachers nowadays?” A second later and Steve is there, swinging the door open and looking at Bucky like he’s completely not surprised that he’s shown up. Wherever this new, cool and confident side of Steve has come from, Bucky likes it. “Hi,” he says, voice coming out quieter than he intends it to. “I uh, I’m here.”

Steve smiles. “So you are.” He’s dressed more relaxed than Bucky’s ever seen him, in a tee shirt and jeans and his feet left bare. Bucky stares at them for a moment until Steve clears his throat and says, “Come on in.” He turns and walks away, leaving it to Bucky to decide if he’ll actually go through with this. Bucky’s under no illusion; Steve is going to fuck him tonight. They’re going to work their shit out and fuck, and who knows what next? Bucky’s about to take that step—that step into a college professor’s private residence that Natasha has always warned him is strictly forbidden not technically illegal. The idea of it makes his stomach do a weird flip. Never let it be said that Bucky wasn’t a thrill-seeker.

Inside, Steve is in the kitchen, coming around to the living area with tumblers in hand. “You drink bourbon?” he asks, sitting himself onto the couch and setting both glasses onto the coffee table.

“Um, not often,” Bucky admits. “I’m too poor for that not a connoisseur.” He shrugs and goes to sit on the couch next to Steve. It’s close, and Steve looks pleased.

“I’m sure you’ll like it. Here.” He hands Bucky the second glass.

“Hope you’re not wasting top shelf stuff on me,” Bucky murmurs as he takes a sip. It’s definitely top shelf liquor, he thinks. He sips it and watches as Steve just stares at him assessingly. After a long while Bucky asks, “What are you thinking?”

Steve hums. “I’m trying to run back in my head, if you’ve always been obvious about wanting me.”

Bucky huffs. “Seriously?”

Steve shrugs. “Yes.”

“I’ve been blatantly flirting with you since the first time we ever spoke!” Bucky is mildly insulted that they’re even discussing this. “And eye fucking you for weeks before that!”

“I can be a little slow on the uptake when it comes to flirting,” Steve admits, though he doesn’t look at all sorry for it. He’s still sipping his drink and so Bucky copies him. With all the filth that he’s hoping to lay on this man tonight, Bucky wouldn’t mind being a little bit buzzed. “But now I know,” Steve is saying, “and we can talk about it.”

“I don’t just want to talk,” Bucky says. “I want to—”

“I know you do,” Steve says, cutting him off. “After the movie theater, I figured you weren’t one to shy away from doing what you want to do, sexually.”

Bucky huffs and takes another sip. “Dude, you have no idea.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’ Bucky,” Steve chides. “I’m not one of your buddies.”

Bucky’s stomach sinks and his dick jerks. Fuck. He’s instantly taking another gulp of whiskey and reaching for the paper he’d shoved into his pants pocket. “I’ve got a list,” he explains hastily, getting the paper out and unfolding it one-handed. “It’s a kink list and I checked off everything I like and I want you to check everything you like and just so you know I definitely checked off authority kink. So yeah, I’ll call you whatever the fuck you want.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Like… Daddy?”

“Oh god.” He remembered. Bucky nods enthusiastically and says, “Yes. So much yes I can’t even.”

Steve laughs at him then, and good god is it a pretty thing. He takes a big gulp from his drink and then sets it aside, encourages Bucky to do the same with his. He takes Bucky’s hands in his and jeeze, if his hands aren’t so nice and big and thick. Bucky stares at his fingers…

“Hey, pay attention Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes snap up, instantly alert and turned on by Steve’s commanding tone of voice. It isn’t even stern really, just… in charge. “I want you to be in charge of me,” he blurts, unable to keep the thought in.

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Bucky feels kind of warm from the liquor and kind of dumb. Whatever semblance of a verbal filter he normally has is turned off now. He’ll probably stay that way for the rest of the night, which is just fine. “Steve,” he says imploringly. “You have no idea how many things I wanna—”

“I think I might,” Steve says, cutting him off. He’s looking at Bucky gently. “And we can talk about all of them. Probably do all of them too, if you want.”

“I do, I—”

“But first I need to say this, and I hope you can understand.” Steve looks wary, or maybe self-conscious for a second. “I’m not in the habit of abusing my power, or doing anything unethical.” Bucky’s lips part, but before he can utter anything Steve’s continuing. “You do know that this isn’t allowed, right? For a student to have sex with a faculty member?”

Bucky blows air through his teeth. “We’re both adults. S’not like I’m even getting a grade from you. I’m just auditing—”

“I know that,” Steve says, sounding serious still. “But it’s still not allowed.”

“Just makes me want it more,” Bucky says. “Look, Steve, you don’t have to give me this talk. I know the deal. I know I can’t go telling people I’m fucking the professor.” He grins. “I promise: you’ll be my dirty little secret.”

Steve doesn’t laugh, which is disappointing. He just looks him over carefully. “Well okay,” he says. “I just don’t want you to ever feel taken advantage of or—”

“Steve?” Bucky says. “Shut up. I’m fine. This is fine. Let’s just get to it!”

Steve seems satisfied by that, if the way he relaxes, then chuckles and sinks back into his spot on the couch is anything to go by. “Alright,” he says, and his voice has returned to that calm, assured tone that Bucky is rapidly coming to fetishize. “Why don’t you get up then?”

Bucky frowns. “Huh?”

Steve leans forward and takes Bucky’s close-to-empty glass from him, sets it on the table and nods for him to get up. “Stand here, in front of me,” he directs.

Bucky doesn’t know what’s about to happen but he’s all about following Steve’s directions, so he does as told and goes to stand on the carpet in front of Steve. “Here?” he asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah. Right there. He’s staring at Bucky from over the lip of his drink, eyes just raking up and down his body unashamedly.

Bucky soaks it in, lets himself sink into the feeling of being a spectacle for Steve’s enjoyment. It starts a pleasant, embarrassed sort of arousal warming underneath his skin, and before he knows it Bucky is sure he must be blushing. “Steve…” he says, feeling twitchy. He moves to step closer, the thought of climbing straight into Steve’s lap a tempting idea…

“Stay where you are,” Steve says. Again, it’s not quite stern. But it’s an order—the kind of thing Steve won’t be pleased to have to repeat, should Bucky disobey him.

Bucky shivers at the thought. He stays right where he is. “You just want to stare at me all night?” he asks jokingly.

Steve only raises an eyebrow. “You’ll find out what I want to do when I decide to do it. That a problem?”

Bucky swallows. “Is this a scene negotiation?” he asks.

“Kind of.”

Bucky does a mental fist pump and thanks the gods that Steve knew right away what that meant. “Then no,” he says through a grin that he can’t quite keep in. “No, it’s not a problem. I don’t need to know.”

“Good.” Steve says. He takes another sip of his drink, and as he’s sipping his eyes flick up and he says, “Take off your shirt.”

Bucky’s wet dreams are coming true, that’s all there is to it. He has to reign himself in from giggling, or squirming, or something else incredibly stupid. He’s just so thrilled, is all. So he breathes in, deep and slow, closes his eyes and holds that breath. When he releases it in one long, smooth exhale, he opens his eyes again. There sits Steve, sprawled on the couch with his thighs wide open—just like in the theater, Bucky’s memory supplies. Right before he’d touched himself. Bucky reaches for the bottom of his shirt, and Steve’s eyes darken, pleased, as he settles in for a show of his own choosing.


Twenty minutes later and Bucky is standing stark naked right in front of Steve, their positions completely the same. Except for the fact that Bucky has a growing hard on and is fighting to not move and to keep from whining—both things that Steve has ordered him not to do.

Steve, who has his fly open and his hand down his pants, touching himself almost lazily. His big hand is all Bucky can look at as it rubs over the bulge in his underwear. “Let me,” Bucky says again, definitely sounding like the desperate whore that he is. “Please Steve.”

“Shush,” Steve says, infuriatingly calm and unconcerned with what Bucky’s begging him for. “Turn around again.”

Bucky groans, but he does listen and turn around so that his backside is facing Steve. “You’ve already—”

“Be quiet Bucky. I’m looking.”

Bucky huffs but shuts his mouth. He hates that this is as far as they’ve gotten, that Steve isn’t ravaging him by now, but in a way that he’ll never admit to Steve, he also likes it too. Because Bucky has no idea what Steve is doing here, what he’s thinking or where he’s going to take this odd, quiet sort of powerplay that they’re doing. He feels out of the loop, unsure and liable to trip—like a doll on strings. He likes that feeling. So he stands still and balls his palms into fists as he imagines Steve, behind him, staring his fill. “Steve?” he finally asks after a long moment.


“What are you thinking?”

Steve hums. “I’m looking at your sweet body, thinking how much I want to touch every part of you. You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Bucky knows he blushes at that. “Thank you,” he says.

“Mm, you’re welcome baby.” Bucky inhales, maybe audibly, at hearing Steve call him that. Not because ‘baby’ is his thing, but because it makes it very, very easy to imagine Steve rumbling other pet names to him. Pet names that are his thing. Steve must notice this because Bucky can hear him shift on the couch, can hear him setting his glass of bourbon aside. “Bucky?” he asks, voice curious. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” Bucky says immediately. He wants so badly to look back and see Steve’s face but he remains how he is. “I like it. I like being called… names.”

“Names, huh?” Steve sounds thoughtful.

“Yeah.” Bucky is just waiting for Steve to ask. Just waiting

“Turn back around,” Steve says, and Bucky does. Steve isn’t touching himself anymore. He’s got Bucky’s kink list in his hand, eyes skimming up and down it with an unimpressed expression.

Bucky’s heart leaps. “I—”

“Shh,” Steve says, eyes not even raising up from the paper to regard Bucky. “You’re good, Bucky. Just stand there like I told you to. I’ll do the talking for now.”

Bucky gulps, but he nods. He stands there and feels his blood thrum hot under his skin as he watches Steve’s eyes—his soulful, blue, long-lashed eyes—tick up and down the paper. For the first time in a long time ever, Bucky feels uncertainty creep up on him. He feels self-conscious as Steve reads the list of kinks and fetishes, worries about what’ll happen if Steve sees something Bucky’s checked off that’s not what he likes at all; something too shocking, too weird, too extreme. Bucky has the urge to grab the paper from Steve’s hands and tell him that never mind, they don’t have to talk all about their kinks after all. Plain old fucking is just grand, too.

But Steve speaks up at exactly the right moment. His lips quirk, and he looks over the top of the paper at Bucky and says, “Wow, Bucky. You are a special someone, you know that?”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief, as he can tell from Steve’s demeanor that he’s not put off. “Thank you,” he says. “…Sir.” He says it like a question, which makes Steve snap to attention.

“Is that how it is?” he asks, and his eyes are very, very dark as he looks at Bucky.

“I mean, you saw my list,” Bucky says smugly.

“Yeah I did.” Steve glances back down to it. “Sir, not ‘Daddy’?”

Bucky’s dick twitches again. “Fuck, Steve. Can I touch myself pleeease?”

“No.” Steve smiles. “Tell me.”

“Fuck.” Bucky huffs and tries hard to stop focusing on how badly he wants to touch his dick. Focus on Steve’s question, he tells himself. “I like both,” he manages to say. “Depending on the dynamic.”

“Hm.” Steve seems to take that in. “I’m not sure I understand the difference. Explain.”

God, Bucky is going to die. He is just going to fucking combust, standing here, butt-ass naked, in Steve Rogers’ living room. Some poor person will have to scoop his mushy remains off of the carpet while some lucky cop will get to haul Steve’s fine ass off to jail. “Sir is more… mean, I guess. It’s darker, more erotic but more detached. Daddy is more…” Bucky blushes, not able to find any other way to explain it other than, “nurturing. More caring. More of an age thing.”

Steve’s grin is practically animalistic. “You like that, huh? That I’m older than you?”


“How old are you, Bucky?”

“I’m twenty-one,” he says. “How old are you?”

Steve sits there for a long, long minute, and just when Bucky begins to doubt that Steve will ever tell him how old he really is, Steve stands. He leaves the list on the couch and steps right in front of Bucky, so close that their naked toes are almost touching. “Look at you, hm?” he says, more like commentary than an actual statement to Bucky. “You’re so worked up, just from what? From standing here naked in front of me?” He grins at Bucky’s embarrassed nod. “Never thought I’d see you blush so much Barnes. It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” Bucky exhales, because god, all he wants in life is to be this man’s good boy.

“Hm.” Steve nods at him pointedly. “Turn around again.”

Bucky would groan something fierce at being told to turn away again, but this time Steve’s right there, so he does. He can immediately feel how Steve steps closer, putting his body right at Bucky’s back. Steve’s hands land on Bucky’s waist and Bucky shivers. Such a simple, simple touch has never felt more erotic, now that he’s been denied and held in naked limbo for so long. “Steeve,” he nearly slurs. “Steve are you gonna—”

“Hush, sweet boy,” Steve says, and Bucky moans. Steve chuckles, like he knows exactly what his words have just done to Bucky’s insides. “Yeah, you’re going to be very good for me tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes yes,” Bucky breathes. “I promise.”

“Good.” Steve kisses the shell of Bucky’s ear and it’s divine, just makes the ache in him so much more. “I’ll tell you what, Bucky,” Steve says, and he pulls Bucky back against his body, full-length, so that he can feel every hard plane of him. “You come into my room with me and let me spank you, and I’ll let you know exactly how old I am,” he puts his lips against Bucky’s ear and whispers, “with the number of smacks I give you. One for every year.”

Oh, Bucky’s found his dream guy. He thought Matt the law student was it but no, not even close. “Steve,” he breathes, basically feeling like he’s declaring his undying love for the guy. “Please, please can I kiss you?” Steve is turning him around forcefully in his arms before Bucky even knows what’s what, and Bucky is taken aback and utterly delighted with how strong he is, how he can move him bodily and it just feels so forceful. He beams at Steve. “Manhandling is on my list,” he tells him slyly.

“I know.” Steve kisses him, and it’s like… it’s just like the insanely fit body that Bucky always knew was hidden under all those dorky professor clothes. It’s unexpectedly confident and competent and demanding. And even while it feels like Steve is dominating him with the kiss, at the same time it’s like being taken care of and being lavished with attention. When Steve pulls back and gives Bucky time to regain his breath, Bucky rests his forehead against Steve’s shoulder and tells him how badly he needs it.

“Please,” he says, shamelessly begging. He just wants Steve to dominate him, to take care of him, to spank him and make him come and run through every dirty depraved thing he’s ever wanted to try. “Steve,” he says, and Steve’s fingers winding through his hair pull him gently back so that their eyes meet.

“What is it, baby?”

Guh. Bucky licks his lips, fighting not to let his brain turn to complete mush before he can get this out. “Was there… was there anything you didn’t like?”

Steve’s eyes clear with understanding after a second. “On the list?” He huffs and pulls Bucky back against his chest. “Oh, no, sweetheart. I didn’t mind any of it.” Bucky relaxes in relief and Steve kisses him again. “Don’t you worry, Buck. We’re going to explore it all, eventually.”

Bucky pulls away enough to stare at Steve. “Really?”

Steve looks at Bucky like he’s precious and ridiculous for worrying. “Yeah, really.” He cups Bucky’s jaw, strokes his thumb over the curve of his cheekbone and hums in understanding as Bucky’s eyes slip closed and he presses his face into the touch, like a cat. “You and that guy, Gavin; you’ve subbed a lot for him, huh?” He’s asking quietly, gently, which keeps Bucky from worrying that Steve is upset about it.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, not opening his eyes, just enjoying how taken care of Steve is making him feel, how safe. Steve doesn’t mind his list, he thinks dreamily. Not any of it. “Yeah he doms me.”

“Thought so,” Steve says. “You get pretty happy when you do that, huh?”



“Yeah.” Steve chuckles, and the feeling of it reverberating in his chest is so wonderful that Bucky has to push himself full-body up against him. “I’m close,” he tells him, almost whispering it like a secret.

Steve hums. “That could be the alcohol I fed you.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head and insists. “I am. If you spank me, or even just tie me up I know I’ll get there.”

Steve strokes his back as he says thoughtfully, “You get there often?”

“No,” Bucky says. “Just sometimes. Has to be with the right person.”

“Like Gavin?” Steve asks, and unlike last time, this time there’s a hint of jealously to his tone.

Bucky squirms, displeased at that. “It’s not like that,” he tells Steve, forcing himself to meet his eyes, to shrug off the encroaching haze of subspace and be serious. “You’re nothing like him.”

Steve swallows, and though Bucky can’t be sure, he thinks Steve might be pleased. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He kisses Bucky again, the slow capture of his mouth and the searching slip of his tongue just as perfect as before. He doesn’t pull away until he’s gotten a true, throaty moan out of Bucky, and then he steps back, takes his hand, and leads him towards the stairs.

Bucky ascends them like he’s going up to heaven.

Chapter Text

Steve’s bedroom is just about as sexy as he is, Bucky thinks, as he kneels on the carpet where Steve has put him. He’s between Steve’s thighs—Steve sitting on the bed and staring down at him. When they’d first entered the room, Steve had been quick to grab a few things from his nightstand, stuffing them under the pillows at the headboard lightning-quick, so that Bucky couldn’t see. Now he’s just gone back to looking Bucky over—like he’s a thing, like he’s a pretty object that has no needs and Steve’s desire to stare at him is the only thing that matters. Bucky licks his lips, feeling borderline dazed from all the time spent having to be still and quiet. “What’re you thinking?” he whispers.

Steve hums. “I’m thinking how good you look on your knees. And I’m thinking about what I want to do with you.”

Bucky groans, wondering what Steve put under the pillow. “Anything you want,” he says. “What do you like?”

Steve’s lips twitch. “A lot, Buck.”

“What?” Bucky is eager to know. “Tell me, please?”

Steve reaches out, places a hand on Bucky’s head and pets his hair gently. Bucky nearly purrs, pressing into it. “Well look at you,” Steve murmurs. “So sweet. You like being sweet for me?”

Buck nods weakly, eyes closed. “Yeah. I wanna be good.”

Steve hums. “That’s what I like, Bucky. I like being in charge. I like submissive partners who let me take care of them. I’m adventurous, no doubt; probably just as kinky as you are, but in the end? In the end it all comes back to this.” Steve takes hold of his chin and tips his jaw up until Bucky is opening his eyes to look at him. “How do you feel about that?”

“Good,” Bucky breathes, pupils wide. He shuffles closer on his knees, getting close enough to lean down and rub his face against Steve’s thigh. “You’re dressed,” he complains. “Wanna see you.”

Steve chuckles. “Hush. You don’t get to decide how this goes.”

Bucky shivers. “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve’s inhale is audible, his hands carding back into his hair as he praises, “Good boy. God, you’re gonna be so sweet for me tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. M’promise. Want to.”

Steve makes a sound of approval in his throat. “Good. Come here, stand up.” He waits for Bucky to comply, putting his hands on his hips to steady him once he’s standing. “What’s your safeword?” he asks.


“You just use traffic lights, then?”


“Okay.” Steve’s thumbs stroke over Bucky’s hipbones. “You say that anytime something isn’t going the way you want, okay? I get angry with boys who don’t use their safewords. You don’t want to be bad, do you Bucky?”

Bucky shivers, shaking his head. “Mm mn.”

“Good.” Steve pulls him closer. Kissing him on his abs, under his pecs. “I can tell you’re losing your words a little,” he says. “Does that happen a lot?”

Bucky nods. “Sorry.”

Steve tuts at him. “Don’t apologize. I think it’s cute.” He looks up at Bucky and catches his eyes, and God damn if he doesn’t look at Bucky like he’s something he wants to devour. Bucky’s stomach swirls at that look. “Are you going to be able to count?” Steve asks.

Bucky frowns, confused. “Count?”

“Your spanking,” Steve says, smiling dirtily. “Don’t tell me you forgot.” He lets his hands smooth over Bucky’s hips and back around to cup the swell of his ass.

Bucky groans. Fuck. “Oh.” He nods quickly, “I can.”

“Well then you better get up here and lay over my lap.”

Fuck, Bucky thinks in his hazed-out brain. Steve is perfect. This just keeps getting better. “Kay,” he says, moving to climb onto the bed and lay himself over Steve’s lap. Steve steadies him with a hand as he moves, scooting back enough so that Bucky’s whole body can be on the bed as well.

“There you go,” he says, smoothing his hands over Bucky’s back as he gets himself settled, butt just over Steve’s lap and his cock sandwiched between his own belly and Steve’s thighs. He humps down a little, desperate for some friction, but Steve just grabs his balls and tugs warningly. “None of that.” Bucky grunts at the harsh hold and stills. “Better,” Steve says. He releases him. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, because he is. He’s settled into a comfortable position, and Steve’s bed is soft. He feels lightheaded, anticipation making goosebumps prick to his skin. “Please… spank me… I want it.”

Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of his ass as he groans. “Fuck, baby boy. I’m gonna. Got a few things for you first.”

Bucky’s eyes shift to the pillow, eager. He whines in question. Steve reaches over and sticks his hand underneath the pillow. He pulls out a pair of fleece-lined handcuffs. Bucky’s stomach clenches. “Oh.”

Steve chuckles. “You like that?”

“Yeah.” Bucky wiggles to get his arms behind his back for Steve to restrain him, but Steve simply tuts and puts his arms back where they were in front of him.

“Here,” he says, buckling one cuff around his wrist and then the other. He hooks them together. “I want you to be comfortable for this. But this’ll keep you from reaching around.”

Bucky’s stomach swirls. “Yeah.”

“What do you say?” Steve asks firmly.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

There’s a smile in Steve’s voice as he hums and pets him. “You’re welcome, baby boy.”

God, Bucky thinks, that is never going to get old. He watches as Steve reaches back under the pillow and pulls out a butt plug. It’s small and curved, shaped like a tiny little cock. “Oh my god,” he whimpers.


“Green, so fucking green.”

Steve laughs. “You like anal play, Buck?”

“You saw my list. You seriously have to ask?”

Steve smacks him once on the butt, reaching to pull a bottle of lube out from the pillow as well. “Be nice,” he warns, then pops the cap and drizzles lube right onto the small of Bucky’s back. Bucky gasps at the feeling of it. “Shh,” Steve soothes. His fingers dip into the mess, drawing it down over his tailbone and between his cheeks. He makes an appreciative noise as he starts to finger Bucky’s hole. “You made yourself nice and pretty for me, didn’t you?”

Bucky nods, happy at being praised. “Yeah.” He’d shaved everything and cleaned himself out, wanting to be ready for anything Steve would give him.

“I like it,” Steve says, then he presses a little harder with his finger, pushing past the resistance. “Keep yourself this way,” he murmurs. He works the finger in more, thrusting slowly and dragging it over his inner wall. He aims for Bucky’s prostate and finds it after a couple of swipes, keying in to his sudden, desperate whimper. “Mm, there it is.”

Bucky pants, unable to keep his hips from jerking against Steve’s lap a little, but Steve doesn’t scold him this time. He just continues fingering him, thrusting steadily and at the same angle. When Bucky starts to whimper louder, he pulls back out and pushes in with two fingers. Bucky gasps. “Steve!”

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Bucky nods his head against the sheets, hands moving restlessly and making the links of the cuffs clink. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah yeah. Please.”

Steve chuckles. “You even know what you’re begging for?” He shoves his fingers in hard, fist bumping his cheeks, and rubs firmly over his prostate. He laughs at Bucky’s wail and just reaches to pet his hair. “Bet you don’t,” he says. “Bet you get real dumb when you’ve got fingers up your ass.”

Bucky whines, loving the sound of Steve’s voice, the tender way he says the humiliating words, as if they’re something sweet. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Mmhm.” Steve’s fingers draw out, leaving a sad absence inside of him. Bucky feels his asshole clenching. The next thing he knows, Steve is swiping more lube down over his hole, and the head of the plug is pressing against him. Bucky inhales sharply.

“Shh,” Steve soothes, running his free hand up and down Bucky’s back. “S’okay. It’s small, easy to take.” It’s true, and he only has to rock it against his hole for another minute before the thing is slipping into him. Bucky grunts at the feeling. “There you go,” Steve praises. “Good boy. It’s a soft one, jelly. You feel?”

Bucky hums and squirms, feeling the toy inside his body. Steve is right—the plug is very soft, almost too much so. “Why?” he asks, struggling to find more words to ask a full question.

“Why’d I put it in you? Or why is it soft?”

“Mm, …soft.”

Steve chuckles. “Fuck baby, you struggling? You’re going to be so fuck-dumb when I get my cock in you, aren’t you?” Bucky whines at that and Steve shushes him. “But to answer your question, it’s soft because I’m going to spank you with it in, shove it inside you with every smack.” He must hear Bucky’s inhale at that, because he laughs. He grabs his ass roughly and gives it a firm squeeze, jostling him and the plug inside him. “Yeah, it’s gonna feel really good, I promise.”

“Oh,” Bucky breathes, remembering exactly why he’s getting spanked in the first place. He shivers, remembering how he’s supposed to count. “Please,” he whispers, unable to do much more than that. Steve understands, though.

“I enjoy all sorts of impact play,” he tells him. “I have paddles and crops for when I like to give it hard and awful.” Bucky whimpers and Steve shushes him. “That’s not what we’re doing tonight. I like soft spankings too, ones that feel good and get you aroused. I’m just going to use my hand, and I’m not going to hit you as hard as I could, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky whispers, mind gone on to that place that makes him feel far away and good. His eyesight has already gone fuzzy, focusing on nothing.

“I’m not going to make you count out loud,” Steve tells him, big palm circling around and around over his cheeks. “But you need to pay attention. If you can’t tell me the right number when we’re all done, you won’t get to come tonight.”

Bucky whines fiercely at that, hips jerking and not liking that possibility at all. Still, he likes that Steve threatened him with it, his guts squirming in arousal. Steve gives him a light slap, not the real deal but still getting his attention. “Calm down,” he says firmly. “I know you can do it. Just have to try hard for me.” He stills his hand over Bucky’s ass, holding it there. “You ready, baby?”

Bucky nods and makes a sound that’s not a word, but which clearly says ‘god, yes please’.

Steve circles his hand around again for a moment, before it draws away and comes down hard, smacking him right over the center of his cheeks and hitting the plug’s base and thumping it into him. Bucky cries out, jolting forward in Steve’s lap at the pain and the pleasure of it.

Steve wraps his arm around Bucky’s middle and hauls him back into place, holding him there. “Oh no you don’t,” he says, delivering another hard slap, then another. Bucky yelps. The little plug is snug up inside him, bumping against his prostate every time Steve hits it. Bucky doesn’t know what’s better: the hot, stinging sensation of the slap, or the aching pleasure of the plug. Together, he decides. It’s better with both.

Another spank lands, making Bucky wail. But Steve is holding him firmly now. Bucky can wiggle and jerk his arms—and he does—but he can’t reach back, can’t get away. Steve is strong and perfectly capable of keeping him right where he wants him while he proceeds to spank him in earnest. Bucky yells out at the hits that land on one cheek or the other, and he grunts and moans at the ones that land dead center, bringing that flare of pleasure with the pain. He’s being loud, he vaguely realizes, but he doesn’t care and it doesn’t seem like Steve does either, as he doesn’t slow down one bit.

Bucky frantically tries to keep count, but his mind feels like syrup and the longer it goes on, the less confident he is that he’s kept up. The thought of not getting to come just makes him sob harder with the slaps, his body going slack in Steve’s hold as he cries and gives into it. There’s nothing he can do. He has no control and all he can do is lay there and take it. Steve lands another hit, right over the plug, and then… then he stops. Nothing more comes. Bucky shudders, breath heaving against the bed.

Steve cups his aching bottom, soothing him with gentle, murmured words, the first few of which Bucky is too zoned-out to even hear. “—all over. You did so good, Bucky,” he’s saying when Bucky focuses enough on his words. Steve is rubbing his palm over his tender flesh, prolonging the ache. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Bucky sniffs, turning his face to the side and trying to wipe his tears off on his bicep. “M’thank you,” he manages to mumble, feeling shaky, like Steve’s taken him apart and is still holding the jumbled pieces in his hands. If he drops them, Bucky’ll shatter.

Steve hums and rubs his back. “You’re welcome, Sweetheart. …Do you have a number for me?”

Bucky blinks, then remembers. Fuck. He sniffles again, crestfallen because he’s so sure that he doesn’t have it right. “It was hard,” he whimpers.

“I know,” Steve says. “I know it was. You were feeling really good, huh?”

He doesn’t really have to ask—the answer is obvious. Bucky’s cock is hard against Steve’s thighs, a big wet patch from the precome soaked into his jeans. But Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you remember to count?”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallows, mouth feeling dry. “M’sorry. I tried.”

Steve shushes him. “Don’t apologize, honey. I know you did. It’s okay if you got it wrong. What’d you count? How old am I?”

Bucky sighs miserably. “…Thirty-seven,” he murmurs.

Steve is still and quiet, and that makes Bucky sure that he’s gotten it wrong. But Steve reaches up and pets his hair, scratching at his scalp. “Wow,” he says. “I have to say I’m impressed. You got it.”

Bucky freezes. “I… I did?”

“Mmhm.” Steve bends down and kisses the back of his head. “Good job, baby.”

Bucky exhales in relief. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, thank god.” He lays there, feeling wrung out as Steve strokes his back and taps at the plug lazily. Bucky thinks about how he now knows that Steve is thirty-seven, a full sixteen years older than him. It shouldn’t get him as hot as it does. “I like it,” he finally says to Steve while he’s fooling around with the plug.

Steve pauses. “Like what?”

“Your age. I like that you’re older than me. I like it a lot.”

Steve is quiet. Gently, he starts to slide the plug out, hushing Bucky when he whimpers. “There you go,” he says, setting it aside. He thumbs over where Bucky’s asshole is clenching, wet with lube. “I’m glad you like it,” he says. “Because I find it hot as hell.”

Bucky makes a noise of agreement, rubbing his face into his arm. The cuffs clink lightly and he asks, “How long do I have to stay like this?”

Steve jostles his legs, purposefully making Bucky squeak from the stimulation to his cock. “I’ll let you up. Here.” He leans over to unhook the cuffs, then unbuckles each one. The heavy leather falls away from Bucky’s wrists, replaced by Steve’s large hands. “You sore?” he asks.

“Mm mn.” Bucky pushes to turn over and Steve lets him. They move, rearranging themselves until Bucky is on his back in the middle of the bed, Steve sitting comfortably by his side.

“There you go,” he says. “You want a pillow?”

Bucky blushes at Steve’s attentiveness. This is the cared-for part of it, he figures. He nods shyly. “Please.”

Steve smiles. “So sweet.”

Bucky lifts his head for the pillow, then relaxes back. He gives a big sigh. “God, that was amazing.”

“It was,” Steve agrees. “You took it so well. Makes me wonder what else you’ll like.”

Bucky peers up at him, curious. “You want to hurt me?” he asks.

“Maybe.” Steve strokes a single finger up and down Bucky’s erection, which has flagged somewhat since things have calmed down. “Does that excite you?”


Steve chuckles. “Didn’t even have to think about that, huh?” He looks pleased. “That’s good. I have a lot of ways I’d like to make you whimper and cry. I love to see you struggle.” His fingers leave his dick, going down to tickle at his balls.

Bucky squirms. “Tell me.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Is that how nice boys ask?”

Bucky’s guts do that happy, squirmy thing again and he shakes his head. “No. Please. Please tell me?”

“That’s better.” Steve’s hands leave him. He bends in the bed and grabs the discarded bottle of lube, straightening up and squirting some onto his fingers. Bucky gulps at the sight. Steve wraps his hand around Bucky’s cock in a loose fist, stroking him with the barest hint of pressure. Bucky’s toes curl at the teasing sensation as Steve tells him, “I told you I like other forms of impact play—paddles, crops, floggers, …the cane if I’m feeling particularly mean.” Steve must see how Bucky’s eyes go wide, because he quickly reassures him, “You’re allowed limits Buck. Is that one of them?”

“I dunno. Maybe?”

Steve hums, fist picking up that loose, slow slide again. “Okay. Well you’re allowed to think about it. That’s not something I’d want to do often anyway.”

Bucky blinks, feeling calm and sedate as the pleasure thrums back to life at Steve’s touch. It almost feels like he’s still in subspace. Hell, he thinks, maybe he is. What Steve had just done to him was certainly intense enough to get him deep under. He bites his lip and asks, “More?”

Steve chuckles. “I also like bondage and sensory deprivation. I can frustrate you really nicely that way.” At Bucky’s whimper, he flicks his thumb under the head in a wet swipe. “And electro-stim; that’s fun.” Bucky moans, and Steve stares at him intently. “Does that excite you baby? Thinking about little pads taped on you cock and balls, giving you little shocks and getting you hard whether you want it or not?”

Bucky nods rapidly into the pillow. “Yes, yes.” His hips jerk up into Steve’s grasp, but a gentle hand at his hip pressing him back down to the bed makes Bucky remember himself. “Sorry,” he says, licking his lips.

“S’okay Buck. I like that it turns you on.” Steve grips him a little tighter, jerking over the head of his cock. “Do you want to know what you get, for being so good for me?”

Bucky’s eyes leave the ceiling and find Steve’s. “What?”

Steve reaches for the pillow where he’d hid things and pulls out a big object. “Do you know what this is?” he asks, sly grin already on his face.

Bucky’s cheeks flush and he nods. “Y-yeah.”


“I don’t know what it’s called,” Bucky says. “It vibrates.”

Steve hums, pleased. “That’s right.” He flicks the thing’s switch on and it thrums to life, the blunt ball at the end of it vibrating. “It’s called a Hitachi,” Steve tells him. He flicks it back off and sets it aside. “Do you know what I’m going to do with it?”

Bucky flops his head back and forth, because no, he doesn’t. He's only ever seen them used on girls, in porn. “What?”

Steve reaches for his cock again, giving it one, slick stroke before trailing down, over his balls and then right behind them. He rubs against his perineum. “I’m going to play a game with you,” he tells him calmly. “Do you want to know how the game works?”


Steve keeps rubbing. “I’m going to edge you. I’m going to use this wand and my hands to get you close, over and over.” Bucky whimpers and Steve shushes him. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to be able to hold back from orgasm. That’s not realistic and it’s not how this game works.” He leans down over Bucky and kisses him, sliding their mouths together slowly and fucking his tongue inside. He pulls back and says, “The rule is, you have to tell me when you get close. Just when you feel like you’re on the edge. You just say ‘close’, and I stop.”

Bucky whines, squirming as he imagines that. “Daddy,”

Steve’s eyes go dark. “Yeah baby? Does that sound frustrating?” Bucky nods helplessly, and Steve chuckles. “Yeah, that’s the point. I told you I like to see you struggle.” Steve strokes his palm over the flat of Bucky’s belly. “You let me know each time you’re close, and we can keep going. You’ll get to come when I decide it’s time. But if you don’t say ‘close’ and you let yourself come on your own?” Steve looks at him warningly. “I’ll make you regret it. That’s a promise.”

Bucky pants, cock even harder just at hearing what Steve has planned for him. “How?” he asks, wanting to know.

Steve bends over and kisses Bucky right on the tip of his cock. He pulls back and tells him, “I’ll ruin your orgasm, for one. Then I’ll put this pretty dick in a cock cage and send you home with it on, locked up until I see fit to remove it.”

Bucky’s breath leaves him. “Fuuck, Steve.”

“That’s how the game works,” Steve says. He moves over, spreading Bucky’s legs wide and sitting between them. “Tilt your hips up for me. Yeah just like that, there you go.” He grabs a pillow and stuffs it under Bucky’s hips, propping him up and putting everything on display. He stares, and Bucky is back to feeling like a spectacle. “God, Bucky,” Steve whispers, both hands running up and down the crest of his groin. “Look at you. You’re so beautiful.”

“…Thank you.”

“Mm, you’re welcome baby.” His thumbs swoop in, pushing Bucky’s cock up and against his stomach. He rubs the pads of his thumbs under the head, wet with lube and precome and just barely applying pressure. Bucky shudders at the feeling. “You have a gorgeous cock, you know that?” Steve says. “Nice and thick and pink, pretty foreskin. And your balls too.” He taps them with the backs of his knuckles. “Such a tight sac. Not to mention this tight little asshole you’ve got back here. It’s clenching right now, off and on. Did you know that?”

Bucky groans, mortified. He throws an arm over his face, but Steve is immediately reprimanding him, ordering him to remove it. Bucky does, meeting Steve’s gaze and seeing how serious he is. “Never hide from me, Bucky. Not your face, not your genitals, not anything.” He rubs a palm up over his thigh. “And I like to hear you. Don’t ever hold your noises in, understand?”

Bucky’s so hot, he could combust. Distantly, he remembers that ‘light humiliation’ is on his checklist. He figures Steve must’ve noticed that one. “Yes, Steve,” he croaks, voice hardly a whisper.

“Good boy,” Steve says. He gets more lube on his hands—enough to make it really wet and messy—and starts to stroke Bucky off for real.

Bucky groans and digs his head back into the pillow, fighting not to thrust his hips up. “Oh, oh fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and digs his nails into the palms of his hands, trying to distract himself from the perfect squeeze of Steve’s hand, but it’s no use. Steve is working him too good. It ratchets up Bucky’s pleasure, the coil in his belly growing tighter and tighter until…

“Close.” Bucky breathes it out on an exhale, quick and quiet. Steve’s hand instantly leaves him, Bucky’s cock hitting his stomach with a faint slap. He opens his eyes and stares forlornly at it, at how wet and red it is. It’s full of blood, throbbing with the need to come. Bucky groans. “Fuck.”

Steve is silent, rubbing his palms over his hips and inner thighs, just waiting for him to calm down. When Bucky does, Steve puts his hand back on him, back to jerking him in that same, measured pace. He’s clearly in no hurry. “That’s good,” he tells Bucky while he strokes him. “You did good. Keep this up and I’ll let you come, okay?”

Bucky can’t answer, he thinks he manages a nod, but isn’t entirely sure. All he can focus on is the way that Steve’s stroking him with his big hand, fingers wrapped loosely around him, thumb bumping under the head with each pass. Bucky has a flash of a memory; of all the times he’d sat in Steve’s class and stared at his forearms and his hands and imagined him touching all over him. This is so much better than anything he ever could have imagined, Bucky realizes. Hilariously, he thinks of how much he’ll have to tell Clint, when he gets home.

The sound of the vibrator flicking to life interrupts that train of thought, and Bucky’s eyes shoot down. Steve’s got the wand in his hand and he gently lifts his balls out of the way. He presses the fat head of the vibrator against Bucky’s taint. Firmly. Bucky howls. His hips jerk up, out of his control, but Steve just shoves him down again. “Shh,” he coos. “Just calm down.” He pulls the wand away for a moment as he shifts to hook his legs over Bucky’s, pinning him down.

Bucky pants. “Easy for you to say.”

Steve slaps his cock for that, making Bucky grunt. “Don’t get a smart mouth,” he warns, even though he’s grinning darkly. He presses the vibrator back against him, pulsing it hard. The vibrations are strong enough to make Bucky aware of his prostate again, the pleasure there thrumming back to life and joining in with the ache of his dick.

Fuuck,” Bucky moans, overwhelmed when Steve’s free hand returns to stroke him off. “Oh, fuck. Fuck Steve! Fuck…” He pants, glad that Steve’s found a way to hold his hips down because otherwise he’d sure as shit by humping up by now. Steve squeezes his fist at the base of his dick and wrings it upwards, bunching the foreskin over the head and jerking fast and short at the tip. Bucky gasps, white flashing behind his eyes. “Close!”

Steve’s hand abandons him and Bucky sobs. Steve holds the buzzing vibrator away from his body, tickling his slick fingers against Bucky’s drawn-up balls, then reaching up and lightly pinching each of his nipples. Bucky scrubs the heels of his hands into his eyes but doesn’t keep them there, remembering Steve’s rule about hiding. He grits his teeth in frustration.

“That’s good Bucky,” Steve is telling him, soothing voice just making the agony of denial that much worse. “Such a good boy. You ready for another?”

Bucky looks fearfully at him. “I can’t,” he pleads. “Please. I can’t.”

Steve laughs at him, the mean son-of-a-bitch. “Oh baby,” he coos, “yes you can.” He brings the vibrator back in, but this time he lets it press up against Bucky’s asshole, and the vibrations are crazy-intense there, Steve’s hand back on his cock making it so much worse.

Bucky starts panting again, the pleasure ratcheting up faster this time because he’s been denied twice already. “Oh, fuck,” he cries, head tossing and hips trying so hard to fuck up, or back onto the vibrator, anything. “Oh fuck oh fucking god!" Bucky searches frantically for Steve’s attention. “Steve, please let me come. Please let me come I need to come.”

Steve hums. “Are you a good boy?”

“YES yesyes I’m a good boy, I am!”

“Would a good boy call me ‘Steve’?”

Bucky gasps, tears welling at the edges of his eyes. “Daddy!” he all but yells. “Please Daddy, please let me come.”

Steve hums again, shoves the vibrator harder against his hole… then yanks it away. “No,” he says, sounding bored.

Bucky breaks. He starts crying, tears of desperation leaking down his face and into his hair. He lets out the most devastated, pitiful sounds as Steve strokes his inner thighs again. “Shh, Sweetheart,” Steve says. “Sh sh. It’s gonna be alright. You can do this.”

Bucky is trembling, shaking; he’s shaking his head against the pillow and crying because no, no he can’t do this, and he’s never been this desperate in his life. He’s going to go insane. Steve’s going to drive him mad and then just keep him as his stupid, wrecked fuck toy, useless for anything except this. Bucky moans weakly as the pleasure falls back just enough for his heaving muscles to relax. He looks to Steve, and twitches when he sees him reaching for his cock again. “Please,” he whimpers, “Please don’t.”

Steve doesn’t stop. He stares hard at Bucky and takes him again—fingers on his cock and vibrations behind his balls. He goes harder, faster. Bucky yelps, “Close!”

Steve doesn’t stop, and Bucky panics. He doesn’t want to lose the game. He wants to come. “Closecloseclose!”

Steve keeps stroking him and Bucky’s panicking, but he loses the fight. The tightness in his belly breaks, everything in him clenching and releasing, rhythmic contractions that make his breath seize up and stop. He shudders, hips jerking up hard enough that he even manages to move under Steve’s hold, and he wails. His balls empty themselves onto his stomach; thick, white ropes of come shooting in pulses over Steve’s hand and up Bucky’s body. And Steve is growling at him,

Good fucking boy.”

And Bucky’s barely able to register that, is too caught up in his orgasm, in the sharp crash of pleasure that Steve isn’t ruining. Bucky sobs, ugly crying at the relief of it. “Oh, thank you thank you. Fuck, oh, oh.” He’s panting, his climax ebbing away. On his stomach, Steve is petting his cock gently, pressing it into the skin there.

“Shhh, there you go. So good Buck. So goddamn beautiful.” He turns the vibrator off and tosses it aside. He pulls his legs back and crawls over Bucky, laying on top of him and all the cum he’s unloaded. Bucky can’t do anything but whimper and open his mouth when Steve mashes their mouths together, fucking his mouth open and sucking on his tongue. Bucky’s fingers curl into Steve’s triceps. “God, baby,” Steve huffs when he’s pulled back. His eyes are absolutely blackened—lust-blown and heavy. “That was perfect. You did so good for me. Fucking love watching you fall apart.” Bucky sniffles and Steve leans down to kiss tears off his cheek, tongue flicking out to taste them. “So perfect.”

Bucky sighs, breath still coming fast but finally, finally calming enough to think rationally. “I can’t—believe you—did that,” he huffs, feeling like there’re a ton of bricks weighing his body down, now that it’s over. “I’ve never come like that in my life.”

Steve groans and gives him another lewd, proprietary kiss, and then he’s pushing away, getting up and shoving his pants down and kneeling between Bucky’s spread thighs. He starts jerking his cock at an insane pace. Bucky’s eyes widen as he watches it, stomach flipping at the sight. “Steve,” he says tiredly, staring at the way his thick (really thick) cockhead comes through his fingers. They’re wet, and Bucky realizes with a lurch that it’s his come on Steve’s fingers. He groans, and he’ll be damned if his cock doesn’t give a weak twitch at the sight. “Oh, Steve,” he says, utterly taken by the sight of him, the sound of him as he furiously works to get off. “Fuck, Daddy,”—Steve’s eyes shoot up—“Oh, Daddy, come on, want to see you come.”

Steve only has to work himself for another few seconds, and then he’s grunting and shooting out against Bucky’s groin and stomach, getting his cock and belly wet with their combined fluids. It’s the hottest thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he’s got his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders the moment he slumps back over him. It’s sticky between their bellies but Bucky couldn’t care less. He huffs in Steve’s face, catching his lips and wrapping his legs up to cradle him. “Fuck, Steve.” Steve nods, still breathing hard and resting his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky’s so hot; they’re both so hot together, slick and sweaty and heaving as one. He strokes Steve’s back, calming him down from his orgasm. “…You with me again?” he asks, quietly in case Steve isn’t.

But Steve huffs and pulls back, propping up on his elbows. He stares at Bucky like his world’s been rocked (Bucky’s pretty sure that it’s the other way around). “Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah I’m right here.”

Bucky smiles. “I’ve never,” he says, sighing and giving up on knowing what to say. “I’ve just never,” he finishes, and accepts the lazy, indulgent kiss Steve gives him next.

“Good?” he asks, and if Bucky were any less exhausted and undone, he’d roll his eyes or hit him or something. As it is, he just says,

“Yeah. Really good.”

Steve grunts in satisfaction, then rolls off of him. He kicks his jeans all the way off, pulling his shirt overhead and tossing it to the floor as well. Bucky is struck by the sudden urge to laugh. Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s funny?”

“I can’t believe you had your clothes on that whole time.”

Steve grins, wide and genuine. “I’ve got control like that.” He grabs Bucky by the hands and pulls, hoisting him to sitting. “Come on, we’re gonna take a shower.”

Bucky groans, but he follows him willingly, padding into Steve’s (equally sexy) bathroom. They are filthy, after all.


In the steam of the shower they’re enclosed and protected. Steve stands at Bucky’s back and runs soapy hands all over him, cleaning him. He kisses up and down Bucky’s neck and shoulder, and it makes Bucky purr, feeling soft and safe and cared for. Once Steve has guided him into the spray and rinsed all the suds off, he tells him, “You’ve got no idea how it excites me, that you’re interested in so many things.” He kisses him again, just behind his ear.

Bucky shivers. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Steve’s hands slip around him, holding him close and resting on his slick belly, his pec. “That’s really good, Buck. It makes me happy. The way you let me control you tonight made me really happy.” Bucky sighs, pleased and proud for being told that, and then Steve whispers in his ear, “Now, let me tell you all of my kinks."

Bucky moans, smiling dreamily and thinking, Oh, This is going to be a match made in heaven.

Chapter Text

Steve is sitting at his kitchen table, home from work and ready to give Bucky’s list a more thorough examination. He’d perused it last night when Bucky had come over, but now that Steve knows that he definitely wants to keep this boy, he knows it’s mandatory that he familiarize himself with all of his likes and dislikes.

The kink list has four columns. For each activity, there's a have/have not tried checkbox, a desirability scale from 0 (not at all desirable) to 5 (love it, gotta have it), and a column for comments off to the side. Steve takes his time, reading it all.

Abrasion: tried it? × Scale:0

Age Play: tried it? √ Scale: 5 Notes: Daddy/Boy dynamic only

Anal Sex: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Anal Plugs (small): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Anal Plugs (large): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Anal Plug (public under clothes): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Animal Roles: tried it? × Scale: 3 Notes: Just for the humiliations aspect of it

Arm & leg sleeves (armbinders): tried it? × Scale: 3

Aromas: tried it? × Scale: 3

Asphyxiation: tried it? √ Scale: 1

Auctioned for charity: tried it? × Scale: 0

Ball Stretching: tried it? √ Scale: 2

Bathroom use control: tried it? × Scale: 4

Beastiality: tried it? × Scale: 0 Notes: Do alien dicks count?

Beating (soft): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Beating (hard): tried it? √ Scale: 2 Notes: if it was moderate beating, then I'd put 4

Blindfolding: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Being Serviced (sexual): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Being bitten: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Breast/chest bondage: tried it? × Scale:2

Breath control: tried it?: √ Scale: 5

Branding: tried it? × Scale: 0

Boot Worship: tried it? √ Scale: 0

Bondage (light): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Bondage (heavy): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Bondage (multi-day): tried it? × Scale: 2

Bondage (public under clothing): tried it? × Scale:4

Breast whipping: tried it? × Scale: 3 Notes: Chest, obvs, in my case

Brown showers (scat): tried it? × Scale: 0

Cages (locked inside): tried it? √ Scale 0 Notes: Never again

Caning: tried it? × Scale: 2

Castration fantasy: tried it? × Scale: 2 Notes: Just for the humiliation aspect of it.

Catheterization: tried it? × Scale: 0

Cattle prod (electrical toy): tried it? × Scale: 0

Cells/Closets (locked inside of): tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: Never again

Chains: tried it? × Scale: 2

Chamber pot use: tried it? × Scale: 0

Chastity belts: tried it? × Scale: 5

Chauffeuring: tried it? × Scale: 0 Notes: I'm a terrible driver anyway

Choking: tried it? √ Scale:3

Chores (domestic service): tried it? × Scale: 3

Clothespins: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Cock rings/straps: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Cock worship: tired it? √ Scale: 5

Collars (worn in private): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Collars (worn in public): tried it? × Scale: 2

Competitions (with other subs): tried it? × Scale: 0

Corsets (wearing casually): tried it? × Scale: 0

Corsets (trained waist reduction): tried it? × Scale: 0

Cuffs (leather): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Cuffs (metal): tried it? √ Scale: 3

Cutting: tried it? × Scale: 0

Diapers (wearing): tried it? × Scale: 5

Diapers (wetting): tried it? × Scale: 5

Diapers (soiling): tried it? × Scale: 0

Dilation: tried it? × Scale: 0 Notes: dilation of what?! Lol

Dildos: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Disability (roleplay): tried it? × Scale: 0

Disability (actual): tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: I mean I tried it but not as a kinky thing, the guys were just deaf/blind

Dom/sub (play): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Dom/sub (24/7): tried it? × Scale: 5

Double Penetration: tried it? × Scale: 0

Electricity: tried it? × Scale: 0

Enemas (for cleansing): tried it? √ Scale: 5 Notes: can this be for pleasure, too? IDK

Enemas ( retention/punishment): × Scale: 3 Notes: Maybe, a little

Enforced chastity: tried it? × Scale: 5

Erotic Dance (for audience): tried it? √ Scale: 3 Notes: Only if I've had a lot to drink, will I do this

Examinations (physical): tried it? × Scale: 4 Notes: Just for the humiliation aspect of it.

Exercise (forced/required): tried it? × Scale: 0 Notes: I can exercise on my own

Exhibitionism (friends): tried it? × Scale: 0

Exhibitionism (strangers) tried it? √ Scale: 3 Notes: only very limited scenarios

Eye contact restrictions: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Face Slapping: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Fantasy Abandonment: tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: Never again.

Fantasy rape: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Fantasy gang rape: tried it? × Scale: 0

Fear (being scared): tried it? × Scale: 0

Fisting (anal): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Fisting (vaginal): tried it? × Scale: n/a

Flame play: tried it? × Scale: 0

Following orders: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Foot worship: tried it: √ Scale: 0 Notes: Never again, yuck.

Forced bedwetting: tried it? × Scale: 1 Notes: I'd rather be forced to wear a diaper to bed.

forced dressing: tried it? × Scale: 0

Forced eating: tried it? × Scale: 0

Forced homosexuality: tried it? × Scale: n/a

Forced heterosexuality: tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: Ew, never again.

Forced masturbation: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Forced nudity (private): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Forced nudity (around others): tried it? √ Scale: 0

Forced Servitude: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Forced smoking: tried it? × Scale: 0

Full head hoods: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Gags (cloth): tried it? √ Scale: 3

Gags (inflatable): tried it? √ Scale: 2

Gags (phallic): tried it? √ Scale: 2

Gags (rubber): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Gags (tape): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Gas masks: tried it? × Scale: 0

Gates of Hell (male): tried it? √ Scale: 1

Genital sex: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Given away to another Dom (temp): tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: Never again.

Given away to another Dom (perm): tried it? × Scale: 0

Golden Showers: tried it? × Scale: 2 Notes: I'll consider peeing on you but NOT you on me.

Gun play: tried it? √ Scale: 0

Hair brush spankings: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Hair pulling: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Hand Jobs (giving): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Hand Jobs (receiving): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Harems (serving w/other subs): tried it? × Scale: 0

Harnessing (leather): tried it? √ Scale: 3

Harnessing (rope): tried it? √ Scale: 3

Having food chosen for you: tried it? × Scale: 2

Having clothing chosen for you: tried it? × Scale: 2

(head (give fellatio/cunnilingus): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Head (rcv fellation/cunnilingus): tried it? √ Scale: 5

High Heel Wearing: tried it? × Scale: 0

High Heel Worship: tried it? √ Scale: 0

Homage with tongue (non-sexual): tried it? × Scale: 0

Hoods: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Hot oils (on genitals): tried it? √ Scale: 5 Notes: only WARM oils, not hot

Hot wax: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Housework (doing): tried it? × Scale: 3

Human puppy dog: tried it? × Scale: 3 Notes: Just for the humiliation aspect of it.

Humiliation (private): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Humiliation (public): tried it? √ Scale: 0

Hypnotism: tried it? × Scale: n/a Notes: come on we all know that's bullshit

Ice cubes: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Immobilization: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Infantilism: tried it? × Scale: 3 Notes: Just for like, teasing about diapers I guess. No actual role-playing.

Initiation rites: tried it? × Scale: 0

Injections: tried it? × Scale: 0

Intricate (Japanese) rope bondage: tried it? × Scale: 3

Interrogations: tried it? × Scale: 0

Kidnapping: tried it? × Scale: 1

Kneeling: tried it? √ Scale: 4

Knife play: tried it? √ Scale: 1

Leather Clothing: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Leather restraints: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Lectures for misbehavior: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Licking (non-sexual): tried it? × Scale: 0

Lingerie (wearing): tried it? √ Scale: 5 Notes: Ask me about my panties

Manacles and Irons: tried it? × Scale: 1

Manicures (giving): tried it? √ Scale: 0

Massage (giving): tried it? √ Scale: 3

Massage (receiving): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Master/Slave (ownership, play): tried it? √ Scale: 2

Medical scenes: tried it? × Scale: 3

Modeling for erotic photos: tried it? × Scale: 2

Mouth bits: tried it? √ Scale: 5 Notes: My 2nd favorite type of gag (panel gag is 1st)

Mummification: tried it? × Scale: 0

Name change (for scene): tried it? × Scale: 0

Nipple clamps: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Nipple rings (piercing): tried it? × Scale: 0

Nipple weights: tried it? × Scale: 2

Oral/anal play (rimming): tried it? x Scale: 5

Over the knee spanking: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Orgasm denial: tried it? √ Scale: 2

Orgasm control: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Outdoor scenes: tried it? × Scale: 0

Pain (severe): tried it? √ Scale: 2 Notes: for moderate pain I'd put a 4

Pain (mild): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Persona training (in scene): tried it? × Scale? idk Notes: Not sure what this really is.

Personal modification (rl): tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: Never again

Phone sex (serving Dom): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Phone sex (serving Dom’s friends): tried it? × Scale: 0

Phone sex (commercial provider): tried it? × Scale: 0

Piercing (temporary, play-pierce): tried it? × Scale: 0

Piercing (permanent): tried it? × Scale: 0

Plastic surgery: tried it? × Scale: 0

Prison scenes: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Prostitution (public pretense): tried it? × Scale: 0

Prostitution (actual): tried it? × Scale: 0

Pony slave: tried it? × Scale: 0

Punishment scene: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Pussy/cock whipping: tried it? √ Scale: 2

Pussy worship: tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: Ick! Never Again

Riding crops: tried it? √ Scale: 4

Riding the "horse" (crotch tort): tried it? × Scale: 0

Rituals: tried it? √ Scale: 3 Notes: just simple stuff

Religious scenes: tried it? × Scale: 0

Restrictive rules on behavior: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Rubber/latex clothing: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Rope body harness: tried it? × Scale: 3

Saran wrap: tried it? × Scale: 0

Scarification: tried it? × Scale: 0

Scratching - getting: tried it? √ Scale: 1

Scratching - giving: tried it? √ Scale: 2

Sensory deprivation: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Serving: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Serving as art: tried it? × Scale: 0

Serving as ashtray: tried it? √ Scale: 0

Serving as furniture: tried it? √ Scale: 0

Serving as a maid: tried it? × Scale: 1

Serving as a toilet (urine): tried it? × Scale: 0

Serving as a toilet (feces): tried it? × Scale: 0

Serving as waitress/waiter: tried it? × Scale: 0

Serving orally (sexual): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Serving other Doms (supervised): tried it? √ Scale: 0 Notes: Never again.

Serving other Doms (unsupervised): tried it? × Scale: 0

Sexual deprivation (short term): tried it? √ Scale: 2

Sexual deprivation (long term): tried it? √ Scale: 1 Notes: A week or less is fine.

Shaving (body hair): tried it? √ Scale: 1 Notes: I mean I like to be groomed but not for a fetish.

Shaving (head hair): tried it? × Scale: 0

Skinny dipping: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Sleep deprivation: tried it? × Scale: 0

Sleep sacks: tried it? × Scale: 4

Slutty clothing (private): tried it? √ Scale: 4

Slutty clothing (public): tried it? √ Scale: 1

Spandex clothing: tried it? × Scale: 0

Spanking: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Speech restrictions (when/what): tried it? √ Scale: 3

Speculums (anal): tried it? × Scale: 0

Speculums (vaginal): tried it? × Scale: n/a

Spitting: tried it? √ Scale: 0

Spreader bars: tried it? √ Scale: 3

Standing in corner: tried it? √ Scale: 2

Stocks: tried it? × Scale:1

Straight jackets: tried it? √ Scale? 4

Strap-on-dildos (sucking on): tried it? √ Scale: 0

Strap-on-dildos (penetrated by): tried it? √ Scale: 0

Strap-on-dildos (wearing): tried it? × Scale: 3 Notes: from like, a humiliation perspective maybe

Strapping (full body beating): tried it? × Scale: 4

Suspension (upright): tried it? √ Scale? 3

Suspension (inverted): tried it? × Scale: 0

Supplying new partners for Dom: tried it? √ Scale? 0 Notes: Never again.

Swallowing feces: tried it? × Scale: 0

Swallowing semen: tried it? √ Scale: 2 Notes: Let's cut the BS; it's just not that great

Swallowing urine: tried it? × Scale: 0

Swapping (with one other couple): tried it? × Scale: 0

Swinging (multiple couples): tried it? × Scale: 0

Tampon training (in ass): tried it? × Scale: 0 Notes: What even is this??

Tattooing: tried it? × Scale: 0

Teasing: tried it? √ Scale: 5

TENS unit (electrical toy): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Thumb cuffs (metal): tried it? × Scale: 0

Tickling: tried it? √ Scale: 1

Triple Penetration: tried it? × Scale: 0

Urethral Sounds (metal rods): tried it? × Scale: 5

Uniforms: tried it? × Scale: 0

Including others: tried it? √ Scale: 0

Vaginal dildo: tried it? × Scale: n/a

Verbal humiliation: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Vibrator on genitals: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Violet wand (electrical toy): tried it? √ Scale: 5

Voyeurism (watching others): tried it? √ Scale: 2

Voyeurism (your Dom w/others): tried it? √ Scale: 0

Video (watching others): tried it? √ Scale: 4

Video (recordings of you): tried it? √ Scale: 4

Water torture: tried it? × Scale: 0

Waxing (hair removal): tried it? × Scale: 0

Wearing symbolic jewelry: tried it? × Scale: 0 Notes: Unless it's a collar

Weight gain (forced): tried it? × Scale: 0

Weight loss (forced): tried it? × Scale: 0

Whipping: tried it? × Scale: 3

Wooden paddles: tried it? √ Scale: 5

Wrestling: tried it? × Scale:3 Notes: As long as I lose ;)


Steve sighs once he finally gets to the end. Wow. He doesn’t know where Bucky had found such an extensive list of kinks, but Steve knows it’ll take him more than a hot minute to fill one out for himself. Right away, he has a few observations about Bucky’s list—things that stand out more than others. For one, Bucky has a lot of things marked as complete zeros that he’s actually gone and tried, and many of those items have notes next to them saying he never wants to do them again. That means that Bucky has had a partner in the past who coerced him into some, if not all of those things.

That pisses Steve off, but there’s little he can do about it now. What’s worse still, Bucky has marked ‘serving as ashtray’ as something he’s done. Reading that one hits Steve in the gut. He’s heard of this practice, but it horrifies him to think of Bucky enduring that pain. He grits his teeth and promises himself that he’ll look Bucky over for scars, the next time he has him naked (an inspection scene can accomplish that easily enough).

Aside from those disturbing issues, Steve notes that Bucky seems to have an aversion to any sort of group sex, and most public activities (Steve wonders how the hell Bucky’s movie theater rendezvous fits in with that). He doesn’t like permanent alterations to his body or anything dangerous, doesn’t like severe pain, being confined in small spaces, or being made to feel afraid or unwanted. He also definitely prefers leather bondage over metal, wood or rope; intimate restraints over detached, which suits Steve just fine. At some point in his life, Steve can tease out, Bucky has had a female sexual partner—probably a Domme. But he apparently doesn’t hold great memories of it (Steve notes the use of the words ‘ew’ and ‘ick’ a few times, to his amusement).

And Bucky definitely has a thing for humiliation—even in ways that he hasn’t yet explored. That’s the part that gets Steve the most excited of all; imagining getting to give Bucky new experiences like that. He makes a note of several of his favorite activities, which Bucky has checked off as never having done, but expressed high interest in trying, pegging them as potentials for the next time they play together.

Chapter Text

Bucky doesn’t see Steve again until he goes to his Art History lecture on Thursday. And it’s funny, because he’s wearing his ‘kiss me I’m kinky’ sweater again, because he’s creative like that tomorrow is laundry day and everything else is dirty. He arrives with Natasha and the two of them go back and grab seats. When Bucky gets settled, he finally allows himself to look up at the front of the classroom. He fights back a grin.

Steve is staring right at him. He’s got his dorky professor clothes on again (which have suddenly somehow become even hotter than before) and he’s regarding Bucky with a look bordering on possessive. Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head, mouthing, ‘stop it,’ at him. Steve stops staring and goes to shuffle papers at his desk.

When Bucky relaxes back, he catches Natasha’s dirty look. Bucky, she signs. Tell me you didn’t.

Bucky can’t lie to her. He also can’t keep the smile off his face. He shrugs. Sorry Nat. (he’s not sorry AT all). The right opportunity presented itself.

Nat scoffs, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms to look at the front of the classroom. “You’d better be careful,” is all she says. “You could get him in a lot of trouble.”

Bucky frowns, not liking that. “I am careful,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay?” He turns and goes back to looking down at Steve where he’s turning on the projection machine. “Stop giving me shit, okay? I really like him.”

Nat’s eyes slide over, but she says nothing. Steve starts talking and the lecture begins.


Ironically, Bucky’s able to pay better attention to the class interpreter than he has all semester. He figures now that he’s gotten his fix of Steve (and fully intends to get more), he isn’t as obsessed with imagining porn between the two of them every second of the day.

Bucky’s at home, grinning at that, thinking, obsession lifted, when his phone pings with a text from Steve. He looks down and smiles. Aw, Steve is asking how he is. Bucky types an enthusiastic reply.

Clint comes into the living room and drops the box of pizza they’ve ordered onto the coffee table. He sits down next to him and turns the tv on. He’s focused on picking a channel and grabbing a slice for a minute before he pays attention to Bucky. When he does, he signs, Hey man.

Bucky nods without answering. He’s texting with Steve, fascinated and turned on by what Steve is typing. He calls Bucky ‘sweet thing’ and ‘baby boy’, and Bucky’s insides squirm pleasantly at the pet names. Steve tells him he wants to “discipline” him, and Bucky's got no idea what that entails but his cock gets a little fatter in his pants at the possibilities. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

Clint taps him. Bucky shoves his phone away. What? Clint raises an eyebrow, and Bucky apologizes. Sorry, what’d you say?

I said: what’re you grinning like a loon about?

Bucky bites his lip, considering if he should tell Clint about everything. Fuck it, he thinks. Clint is his best friend and Bucky knows he can trust him. Even better, Bucky knows that Clint won’t bust his balls about it like Natasha’s been doing. Steve had me over to his house last night.

Clint’s jaw drops like a cartoon. Steve? he checks. /The/ Steve? Bucky grins slyly. Clint blinks twice, then his face splits in a huge grin. He laughs out loud. Fuck man, I can’t believe you actually did it! He gives him an impressed look. Congratulations.

Bucky shakes his head calmly preens. You don’t even know what we did.

It’s /you/, Clint signs with a snort. I know what you did.

Bucky sighs, remembering. Yeah but it was even better than I thought. He’s /way/ kinky, Clint. He’s my soulmate!

Clint rolls his eyes. Sure he is.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Clint waves him off, turning back to the tv. You’ll have a new crush by Monday.

Bucky scowls, borderline offended by that. Will not, he signs petulantly. Really, he doesn’t blame Clint’s expectations of him. Bucky’s always been a whore who moves right along after each and every fuck, looking for kinkier pastures. But this time is different. He’s found a guy who is actually the perfect mash-up of every kink and dynamic that Bucky’s ever fantasized about. He doesn’t need to gross Clint out with the details, but he does tell him, This is gonna last. Just you wait and see.

His phone pings with another text and Bucky looks down.

Professor Hottie: Be at my house by seven. We’ve got a lot to discuss.

Bucky shivers. In normal relationship talk, words like that don’t bode well. But this isn’t a normal relationship. Bucky is in for a good night. He shoots up from the couch and hurries to his bedroom to get ready.


Steve folds up Bucky’s kink list and sets it aside after reading it. His dick feels a tiny bit weighty in his sweats after thinking about Bucky and all his fantasies, and he pushes the heel of his hand against it to settle himself. He grabs his phone and starts typing out a text out to Bucky.

Hey, how’re you doing since last night? Feeling okay?

The speed with which Bucky starts typing back is… encouraging. Steve smiles as he reads the response.

Baby Boy: OMG yaaas. i cant stop thinking bout it …i was bummed when i woke up this morning n didnt have bruises on my ass

Steve’s guts clench as he imagines Bucky, sleepy and with his pajama pants pulled down, trying to examine his naked ass in the mirror. Steve swallows heavily.

Is that so? Well we’ll just have to try harder next time, hm? Maybe some discipline is in order?

Baby Boy: …but ive been good. you said so! ur gonna punish me?

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, typing back,

You’ve got a lot to learn, Baby boy. Discipline is entirely different from punishment.

Baby Boy: …i dont undrstnd.

You will sweet thing, you will.

Steve texts Bucky instructions for when and exactly how he wants him to show up at his house, then he puts his phone away so that he can get started on grading some papers.


“You have terrible grammar,” Steve greets Bucky, swinging the front door wide open for him. Bucky raises an eyebrow and steps inside.

“Excuse me?”

Steve walks into the kitchen to grab the art history paper of Bucky’s that he’s looked over. Bucky isn’t supposed to get a real grade from Steve, but Steve’s assessed the work anyway. “Your writing is only slightly better than your texting,” he admonishes. “And that’s atrocious.”

Bucky frowns, looking hurt for a second, before his features even out into something repentant and borderline sly. “I’m sorry,” he says, stepping close and putting himself right into Steve’s arms. He rests both of his hands on Steve’s chest, right over his pecs. “I guess I didn’t put much effort in to it.”

Steve’s lips twitch. He knows exactly where Bucky’s taking this, and he adores him for it. He steels his face into something stern and unimpressed. “You’ve got that right,” he says. “We both know you’re smarter than that. So what do you have to say for yourself?” Bucky bites his lip, looking up at Steve through his lashes. Fuck, he’s pretty. Steve lets his hands grip him at the waist, fingers digging in over that ridiculous ‘kinky’ sweater. “I’m waiting,” he warns. “You’d better answer me.”

Bucky whines, brow pinching. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” He pushes his face into Steve’s chest, seeking comfort and hiding himself there. “I didn’t listen, didn’t take it seriously. I was lazy and did a bad job.”

Steve tuts, letting his hands wrap around Bucky to hold him close. “Shh,” he says, kissing his hair. “It’s alright, honey. I can tell you’re sorry.”

Bucky sniffs and nods into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Yeah.”

“You want me to punish you? Bend you over my desk and smack you with a ruler while you highlight all the mistakes in your paper?” Bucky moans, and Steve laughs. He runs his hands up and down Bucky’s back, then whispers in his ear, “You’re enjoying this, huh?”

“…Maybe.” Bucky giggles against his shoulder.

Steve pulls back. “Come on,” he says. “I don’t give a fuck about your grammar. We have a lot of other stuff to talk about.”

Bucky follows him into the kitchen and watches as he pours them drinks. “About good stuff, right?” he asks, just because he really likes Steve and he wants this to work out, so he’s maybe more self-conscious than normal.

“Yeah, Buck. Only good stuff.” Steve hands him his drink, smirking. “Tonight I am plying you with alcohol.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, but takes a brave gulp, eyes fixed on Steve’s. “So you can take advantage of me?”

Steve grins. “Always. Come on.”

They settle in the living room, Bucky in the armchair and Steve on the couch. “Why am I all the way over here?” Bucky whines.

“Because you might want your space,” Steve tells him. “I’m going to be asking you some very personal questions.”

Bucky blushes. “Oh. Okay.”

“You embarrassed, baby boy?” Steve teases. “Wouldn’t have thought that was something you knew how to be. Look at that silly sweater you’re wearing.”

Bucky looks down and sees it. “Oh, yeah.” He laughs.

“Only a real attention whore would prance around wearing something like that,” Steve tells him, like it’s matter-of-fact. “I knew that’s what you were the second I saw you in it.”

Bucky beams. “Yeah?”


“Fuck, Steve.” Bucky squirms. He takes a sip of his drink to settle himself. “Okay, what’re your questions?”

“I read over your list after you left last night, gave it a much more thorough perusal.”

“Oh.” Bucky doesn’t know how to feel about that. “Did you… did you decide there was something you didn’t like?”

Steve shakes his head. “No Bucky. You’re fine. I liked knowing what gets you hot, and none of your interests bothered me.”

Bucky tucks his lips in, pleased. “Oh.” God, what is it with Steve? Bucky’s never been embarrassed of his kinks before.

“But I do want to discuss the list, now that I’ve really gone over it. There were a few things that really stood out to me; some good, but some really bad.” Steve bends and grabs the list where he’d placed it on the couch’s end table. He unfolds it and looks at it.

Bucky tilts his head. “What?”

“The most serious? There were a lot of things you’ve tried but that you obviously disliked very much.” Steve watches how Bucky’s face shutters at that. “…It made me suspect that you’d been with someone who coerced you into things you didn’t want to do.” He waits to see what Bucky will say.

Bucky takes a gulp of his drink, sighs, then says, “Yeah. Yeah I was with this one guy for a while—Brock.”

“Define ‘a while’,” Steve says.

“…A year?” Bucky thinks about it. “Eh, a little less than that. Anyway, it was long enough. I met him when I was eighteen. He was older and I just thought he was so amazing—cool, experienced, good-looking.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “He even rode a motorcycle, which of course I went nuts for.”

“Another ‘Daddy’?” Steve asks, and it’s funny because he almost looks jealous. Bucky smirks.

“Naw, Steve. That wasn’t our dynamic.” He sees Steve relax at that, and yeah, he’d been ready to be jealous. The though sends a wave of warmth through Bucky.

Steve is looking at him, not exactly stern, but not happy either. “He treated you badly?”

“Not… right away. He never abused me or anything. But we got into a BDSM relationship pretty fast, and I’d never done that before and didn’t know about a lot of stuff.”

“Define ‘stuff’.”

Bucky huffs. “Safewords, colors, limits.”


Bucky nods. “Yeah. It wasn’t great. I didn’t have a list like I gave you last night. I was just winging it from the beginning.”

“Was he?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “In his defense, yeah he was. I don’t think he meant to force me into stuff I didn’t like, but—”

“Well it’s pretty simple, Bucky,” Steve interrupts him. “Did you tell him you didn’t want to do those things? Did you express your distaste?”

Bucky shrugs. “I mean yeah, but he talked me into it. Our dynamic was Master/slave; so very, very controlling. When I didn’t like something and he said we were doing it anyway, I just thought of it as him controlling me.”

Steve's never had much of a taste for the Master/slave thing. He’s never wanted to take someone’s autonomy way, always having gotten off on the knowledge that submission was freely given. Steve makes a noise of discontent but leaves it at that. He doesn’t need to express just how low his opinion of this Brock guy is. The guy’s not a part of Bucky’s life anymore, thank god. “There was a woman,” he states rather than asks. “Did she force you into things as well?”

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Oh! No. She didn’t.” His lips twitch. “Peggy. She was…” he bites his lip. “She was really nice, actually. I’m gay as fuck, so I didn’t want to go to her, but like I said: I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Steve asks. Now he does sound angry, and it makes Bucky shrink back in his chair.

“…Brock liked to give me away to other people,” he says. “He saw Peggy at this club we went to a lot. He told me I had to.”

Steve can feel his blood pressure rising, despite his efforts to let it go. He forces himself to stop gritting his teeth and instead take a swig of his drink. “What,” he asks carefully, “did ‘Peggy’ do?”

“She didn’t know about… she didn’t know I wasn’t into it. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and I didn’t want to get in trouble with Brock.” Bucky shrugs. “Like I said: she was nice, a really good Domme. It was a relief to spend time away from Brock, to spend time being treated kindly. I probably would’ve liked it, if she’d been a man.” Ruefully, he admits, “I’m pretty sure that’s why Brock gave me to her in the first place. He knew I wasn’t into women, knew I wouldn’t leave him for her.”

“So what did make you leave him, then?” Steve asks.

Bucky looks down at the carpet, as if he’s remembering. “He just… started wanting to humiliate me too much,” he nearly whispers.

“But you like humiliation.”

“Not like this I don’t.” Bucky peeks up at him. “He did things that made me feel absolutely worthless and alone. Like he didn’t love me or even care about me. It didn’t turn me on, it just left me feeling cold and empty inside.”

Steve would ask what sorts of things these were, but he’s got a pretty good guess. Bucky had marked ‘tried’ and 0 on being locked in cages and closets, on being displayed and given to other people, on being made to watch his Dom with other people. Steve swallows, remembering that one item on Bucky’s list: ‘fantasy abandonment’. That’d been checked off too, with a big fat zero and a ‘Never again’ scribbled in the comments box. Steve couldn’t even imagine wanting to get rid of Bucky, let alone role-playing about it.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he eventually says, proud that he’s able to keep himself collected enough to offer such a calm response. He’s silent for a long minute after that, and then he works up the guts to ask, “And… what about the ashtray stuff? Was that literal, or…?”

Bucky freezes. Slowly, his eyes slide up to meet Steve’s, full of dread.

And that’s how Steve knows. Bucky doesn’t even have to say anything. “Fuck!” Steve hisses. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” He is so, so mad right now, mad just to cover up how fucking aching he is, for Bucky. “Where’s this fucker live, huh?”

Bucky looks sadly at him. “It was just one time, Steve.”

“That doesn’t even matter!”

“I left him, after it happened,” he says. “So I’m fine now. Please stop yelling.”

Steve pauses, taken-aback. Oh. He hadn’t realized how loud he was getting. He sinks back into the couch. “Sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

“I know.”

Steve looks at Bucky, trying to remember every inch of his naked body that’d been on display the night before. “Do I want to know where the scars are?” he asks.

Bucky just shakes his head. “They’re so faint now, only I can even make ‘em out.” He juts his chin out, defiant. “And I won’t tell you. I don’t want you getting sad every time you see them.”

Steve would argue that, except for that he wants to encourage Bucky’s confidence in saying ‘no’ to things. Except for that Bucky’s exactly right. “Okay,” Steve says. “Okay. I’ll put it to bed. We can just talk about the fun stuff now, yeah?”

Bucky scoffs. “Great. Now that I’m really feeling in the mood.” He shoots Steve a dirty look, then he brings his drink up and takes a few big gulps, right in a row. When pulls back, it’s with an exhale and a grimace. “What even is this?” he asks, clearly not liking it very much.

“Gin and tonic. Do you want me to get you something else?”

“No.” Bucky throws back another sip, still making a face at the end. “S’not so bad.”

Steve huffs, but leaves it. He’s got bigger fish to fry, and he doesn’t want to piss Bucky off and ruin his chance of having the fun part of their conversation. “The stuff you marked highest,” he says. “Impact play, bondage, sex acts, toys, humiliation.”

Bucky grins. “Yeah. I love all of that.”

Steve hums. “I’m glad baby. Why don’t you tell me what you consider to be too much pain, hm? What implements?”

Bucky bites his lip. “Um…”

“Be honest,” Steve says. “I need to know your limits. Your limits. I don’t want you downplaying them because you think it’s something I’d want. Understand?”

Bucky nods. “Okay. Well… I don’t like being hit so hard or for so long that I get big, black patches of bruising, or welts that last for more than a few days.” At Steve’s parted lips he adds, “Don’t get me wrong: I like a little bruising, just not that much. And no breaking skin.”

“Okay.” Steve smiles encouragingly. “Anything else?”

“Um, the cane: I can take a little of that but not more than a handful of strikes—it’s too much for me after that.”

Steve nods. “Duly noted.”

“I don’t like being hit too much on my, uh, genitals. A tiny bit’s okay but I don’t want it to be like, the main activity, you know? CBT is not for me.”


“But I liked how you slapped my cock once, the other night. And I don’t mind being slapped on the face, or having my hair pulled. I like breathplay.”

“Oh baby boy,” Steve chuckles. “So do I.”

“I don’t do whips, but floggers are good. And a belt is… well I love the idea behind it, you know? You, taking it out of your very own belt loops to punish me. Very authoritarian.”

Steve smirks, “Hm, is that so?”

“Yeah.” Bucky curls his fingernails against the arm of his chair. “But uh, I’m not the biggest fan of the feeling of it. I can’t take too much of a belt either.”

Steve makes a mental note of that. “That’s good,”’ he praises. “I’m proud of you for being so open about this, you know?”

Bucky beams. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome baby. Now, what about bondage, hm? You were pretty clear in your favorites. Gags and leather cuffs, that about it?”

Bucky nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. Blindfolds too. And sometimes hoods.”

“You like sensory deprivation, huh?” Steve asks with a knowing smirk.

Bucky flushes. “Yeah, I really do.” He’s liking all this questioning—is actually starting to feel a little fuzzy in the head from it. He eyes his drink that he’s only taken a few sips from. Eh. He sets it aside. “Being restrained on bondage furniture is fine. Cock cages are fine,”

Steve's eyes light up. “Really? You like to have your pleasure controlled then?” At Bucky’s nod, Steve says, “So you must’ve really liked me edging you last night.”

“Ohmygod.” Bucky nods emphatically. “It was so hot. I love that game.”

Again, Steve is struck by how much he wants to keep this boy. He wants him just for himself, to play with and fuck up anytime he wants. He licks his lips and asks, “Anything else?”

“Immobilization is really fun, but not all the time.” Bucky smirks. “I like to squirm.”

Steve laughs. “I like watching you squirm.” His eyes flick back down to the list, considering. “And as to things you haven’t tried… hm, bondage under clothing in public?” He looks at Bucky questioningly. “You don’t seem to like public play, so…”

“I was just thinking about cock cages, with that one,” Bucky admits.

“Ah, I see. How about all the bathroom stuff then?” Steve doesn’t miss how Bucky goes BEET red. He leans forward, grinning. “Bucky?”

Bucky squirms. “Yeah, uh, about that…”

“You’re really embarrassed about it, huh?” Steve teases. Bucky looks mortified. “Answer me Bucky.”

When he obeys, Bucky’s voice is little more than a whisper and he’s not meeting Steve’s eyes. He’s got his hands twisted in the bottom of his teeshirt. “I’ve never admitted that I was interested in… those things, to anyone before.”

Steve nods. “Why not?”

“Ugh!” Bucky scowls at him, which makes Steve raise an eyebrow. “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do, and watch your attitude, honey.”

Bucky gulps, some of his embarrassment being replaced by squirmy satisfaction at Steve’s stern words, at how he uses an endearment in the very same breath. “Sorry Daddy,” me mumbles. Steve seems pleased at that, and Bucky tries again, “I um, it’s just so weird, you know?”

“Bucky, I’m pretty sure you own an alien dildo; you’re already weird.”

Bucky laughs. “Oh, yeah. Well I guess so. It’s just that… diapers,” he’s embarrassed just to say the word, “and bathroom use control, and the… the enemas and stuff; it’s just so messy and personal. And It’s not an age play thing for me. Anything I’ve ever seen in porn, is. Hairy fat dudes pretending to be babies. S’one of the reasons why it’s so embarrassing to admit.” He looks down, ashamed. “Anyway, it’s gross.”

Steve shakes his head. “No baby, it’s not. Not to me anyway. There’s very little on this list you gave me that could gross me out—a few things, but you didn’t mark those as things you liked. There’s nothing on the list that could make me think badly of you, if you liked it.” He sees Bucky’s expression, sees how surprised and relieved he looks. “And diapers isn’t one of my limits. If you want to play around with that, we can.” Steve can tell from the way Bucky tucks in his lips, that he’s holding back a smile. It makes Steve’s heart warm, instinctually pleased at giving Bucky something he wants. “What about puppy play, huh? You put a three, said you liked the humiliation aspect of it.”

“Hm, yeah.”

“What don’t you like about it?” Steve asks, “Because it’s one of the things that I do really like.”

Bucky perks up, interested in finally getting to hear more about Steve’s kinks. “Yeah?”


“Well, I don’t mind it. I like some of it. You know, crawling and being called puppy, eating from the floor. But uh,” he eyes Steve carefully. “I don’t like to get too deep into the role. I don’t like those masks that look like dog faces. I don’t want to be put in a cage or a dog crate. And I’m not into actually going ‘woof’ and stuff.”

Steve nods. “Ah, I see.” He smiles at Bucky. “I think you’ll find you like the way I do it, if we play that way.”


“Rape play,” Steve says. “You seemed like you were open to it, but that’s a hard limit for me.”

“Eh,” Bucky waves a dismissive hand. “It’s not important.”

“And what’s this with swallowing come being so awful?” he teases.

“I didn’t say awful!” Bucky squawks. “It’s just not yummy. I roll my eyes so hard when guys in porn moan and act like it’s the most wonderful thing they’ve ever experienced. That’s stupid.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Well I’ll concede that point. But I have to say, I get off on watching my partners swallow my load. I won’t make you lick it up off the floor or anything, but can you accept being told to swallow during oral?”

Bucky smiles shyly. “Yes, Steve. I can do that. I want to make you happy.”

“Mm, you already do, honey.”

Bucky melts. “Ugh, and I love that you call me pet names. ‘Sweetheart’ and stuff.”

“Does that make you feel special?” Steve teases with a smile. Bucky nods fast in agreement. “Well that’s good because I don’t think I could remember to stop doing it, if it bothered you.” Steve looks back down at what else he’d marked with green pen on the list—things that he really liked that Bucky hadn’t ever done but was open to. “Sounding,” he says. “You wanna try that?”


“It’s a very peculiar sensation,” Steve warns. “You might not like it. Will you be able to be honest with me and tell me if you decide against it?”

Bucky nods, looking at Steve like he’s his hero. “Yeah, Steve. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome baby. How about twenty-four seven? You sure about that?”

Bucky nods. “I’ve never done that, not even with Brock. I’d like to give it a shot, eventually.”

Steve hums. “That sounds really fun. We’ll keep that on the back burner until we get more comfortable with each other, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bucky bites his lip. “But I am comfortable with you, Steve. I want you to know that.”

Steve smiles, that fond feeling coming back. “I know you are. I just meant once we have more experience together, alright?”


“Now, I copied your list and filled one out for myself.” Steve gets it off the end table and passes it over to Bucky. “I want you to read it over carefully. Here’s a pen. Mark off anything you don’t like and anything you want to talk about.”

Bucky takes the paper obediently, sitting back in the chair and getting right to work on following Steve’s direction. Steve gets a satisfied thrill at the obedience. “Good boy,” he murmurs, saying it just for himself. This kid is perfect, he thinks. Beautiful, obedient, sweet and eager—everything Steve’s always imagined a perfect sub would be. He’s had sweet boys before, but never anyone as close of an approximation to his ideal as Bucky.

And he knows he’s forming an obsession already. It’s a little too fast-out-of-the-gate for his liking, but Steve gives himself a pass. By his own admission, Bucky’s been obsessed with him for weeks. He waits patiently, finishing his drink while Bucky scrutinizes every intimate detail of Steve’s sexual preferences.

When he finishes, Bucky caps the pen and looks up. “Okay,” he says softly. “M’ready.”

Steve sees the glossy cast to his eyes that he gets when he’s getting near to subspace. He’s so damned easy, he thinks. “You feeling good, baby?”


Steve smiles. “Well just try and hold onto your words a little longer, okay?” Bucky nods, and Steve praises him. “Come on over here.” He pats the couch next to him and Bucky gets up and comes over. Steve wraps an arm around him comfortingly, and once again Bucky leans right into it, eager. Like a damn greyhound, Steve thinks, amused all over again. “Okay,” he says. “Go through the things you marked. Remember, I need you speaking in full sentences for this, so I’ll pinch you if you start slipping.”

Bucky swallows audibly, then says, “Cock and ball torture—you seem to like that but I don’t like very much of it. A tiny bit.” He peeks up at Steve. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Steve says right away. “Never apologize for being truthful about your limits Bucky. I really, really like seeing you being open and assertive about that, okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky smiles. He continues. “…You only have like, threes on diaper stuff. And you’ve never done it. I don’t want to do it if you’re gonna be weirded out.”

Steve pinches him, making good on his promise and getting a squeak out of Bucky. “Hush,” he says. “I marked threes because I find it hard to rate something a four or five when I haven’t experienced it.” He smirks at Bucky. “I do, however, thoroughly enjoy humiliation, and you do too. Diapers will be a fun way to play around with that.” Steve sees that Bucky is back to blushing in embarrassment, so he tells him, “Stop worrying Buck. What’s next?”

“Um, it seems like you’re into giving more pain than I’m comfortable with.”

Steve shrugs. “I'm more comfortable with it, for sure. But I like tailoring to fit my partner’s preferences. Don’t worry about that one.”

Bucky reads off the next item. “Puppy play?”

Steve smiles. “I told you I enjoyed that. Don’t worry; based on what you told me you don’t like about it, I’m fairly certain you won't mind my games.” He gives Bucky’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And you can make it a hard limit, if you find it just isn’t for you.”

“Okay. How about… um, domestic chores and stuff?” Bucky makes a face. “I’m not really into cleaning.”

Steve laughs. “Then it’ll be a good act of discipline for you. Is that a limit?”

Bucky pouts. “No. Just not interested much.”

“M’kay. Move on.”

Bucky gulps and looks warily at him. “What is dilation and why do you like it?”

Steve smiles. “You were freaked out about that one, on your list.”


“Well to answer your questions: dilation can be done to any of several orifices: vaginal, anal or urethral.”

“Oh my god.”

Steve hums. “I consider fisting as falling into this category, as well as inflatable toys. You can sound someone with graduated gauges of rods, as well. And the thing I like about it is how I get to watch my partner be overwhelmed and surrendering.” He peers at Bucky intently. “Does that make it a little less scary to you?”

“Oh. Well, yeah. I guess so.” Bucky exhales. “I just don’t know… it sounded so medical and scary.”

“I understand. We’ll proceed carefully with anything like that, okay?”


Bucky beams at him, and that pleasurable flare of protectiveness thrums in Steve again. “What’s next?

“Have you…” Bucky pauses. “Are you bisexual?”

“Oh!” Steve nods. “Huh, I didn’t even realize I hadn’t told you. It hasn’t come up, I guess. But yeah, I am. How’d you figure that one out?”

Bucky snorts. “You like ‘pussy worship’ and putting things in vaginas.” He makes a grossed-out face at this, and Steve chuckles and pinches him because he can.

“Hey now, no kink-shaming me,” he teases. “I love women’s bodies almost as much as men’s. It really has nothing to do with the two of us, so you don’t have to worry; I’m never going to make you do anything with a woman.” Bucky looks doubtful, and a second later Steve finds out why.

“But you have exhibitionism with friends and group sex marked down.” He eyes Steve. “Who’s ‘Elektra’?”

“She’s a Domme I know. I met her years ago at a seminar. I’ve had her over a few times when I was actively in a D/s relationship.”

Bucky nods, but he doesn’t look happy. “I don’t know if I could do that,” he admits. “Things with other people are…” he swallows. “Hard.”

Steve nods and hugs him soothingly. “That’s okay baby. We won’t do any of that.” He kisses him on the cheek and asks him what’s next on his list.

Bucky scowls at him again. “I don’t dance, Steve.” Steve pinches him for his tone, and Bucky behaves. “I’m terrible at it, and it’s very embarrassing. Not a good kind of embarrassing either.” He looks at Steve firmly. “I might do it if I’m very drunk, but other than that it’s a no.”

Steve nods. “Alright. I’m sad I won’t get a sexy little striptease from you, but I respect that.”

“Okay. And being told what to eat and wear and when to exercise really bothers me.” Bucky has gained a little confidence, now. “You have fives, but I really wouldn’t want to do that very often. Even if we wound up in a twenty-four seven relationship, I like deciding those things for myself.”

“Okay. None of that then.”

“Can we stick to the types of gags I like?” Bucky asks, pointing to where he’s circled the item in red. “I tend to panic if my mouth feels too full, so I just like bits, tape and panel gags.”

Steve smiles. “Of course, baby. I’m so glad you know what works for you.” He strokes Bucky’s hair. “We’ll just do those. I have a couple panel gags you’ll like.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sweetheart.”

“No public play,” Bucky says. “I only like it if I can be pretty sure I’m not going to be caught. That thing you caught me at with Gavin was about my limit. I’ll do things under a dinner table at a restaurant, for instance, or fool around in a dark space, a restroom, but nothing more.”

Steve nods. “Good. And we don’t even have to do that much if you decide.”

“Kay.” Bucky looks down, then sighs loudly. “Ugh. Last one.”

His affect makes Steve very curious as to what it could be. “What’s got you so exasperated, honey?”

“Shaving? Really?” Bucky looks at him with a screwed-up expression. “That’s so weird.”

Steve laughs. “Hey now, it can be surprisingly erotic. Think about it: how much control I’d have over you with a razor blade at your balls.”

Bucky shudders. “Eh, no thank you. You can do other things to my balls to control me. Shaving my pubic hair does not sound sexy.”

Again, Steve laughs, but he does jostle Bucky against his side and concede, “Okay baby boy, okay.”

Bucky folds the list up and puts it on the coffee table, quick to come back and curl up against Steve’s side. “That’s it,” he mumbles.

Steve takes Bucky’s chin in his hand and guides him into a gentle kiss. “You did a good job, baby,” he praises. “Much better than you did on that art history paper.”

Bucky perks up. “Oh yeah. Weren’t you going to punish me for that?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I could. …Or we could just practice some discipline.” He cups the back of Bucky’s neck and gives him a light squeeze, pleased at the way Bucky’s eyes go half-lidded. “I did promise you I’d teach you the difference between the two, after all.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes. “Yeah I remember.”

“Do you want to learn?” Steve asks. “Want to do that now?”


“Hm, good.” Steve stands and holds his arms out for Bucky. “Come on, up you get. Let’s go to my room, okay?”

Bucky smiles dreamily and stands. He doesn’t have to be told twice.


Abrasion: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Age Play: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: Daddy/Boy
Anal Sex: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Anal Plugs (small): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Anal Plugs (large): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Anal Plug (public under clothes): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Animal Roles: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: Puppy play
Arm & leg sleeves (armbinders): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Aromas: tried it? NO. Scale: 2
Asphyxiation: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Auctioned for charity: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Ball Stretching: tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Bathroom use control: tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Beastiality: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Beating (soft): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Beating (hard): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Blindfolding: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Being Serviced (sexual): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Being bitten: tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Breast/chest bondage: tried it? YES. Scale: 2
Breath control: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Branding: tried it? YES. Scale: 0
Boot Worship: tried it? YES. Scale: 2 Notes: Barely/element of puppy play
Bondage (light): tried it? YES. Scale:5
Bondage (heavy): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Bondage (multi-day): tried it? YES. Scale: 1
Bondage (public under clothing): tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Breast whipping: tried it? YES. Scale: 2
Brown showers (scat): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Cages (locked inside): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Caning: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Castration fantasy: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Catheterization: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Cattle prod (electrical toy): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Cells/Closets (locked inside of): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Chains: tried it? YES. Scale: 1
Chamber pot use: tried it? NO. Scale:1
Chastity belts: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Chauffeuring: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Choking: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Chores (domestic service): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Clothespins: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Cock rings/straps: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Cock worship tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Collars (worn in private): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Collars (worn in public): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Competitions (with other subs): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Corsets (wearing casually): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Corsets (trained waist reduction): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Cuffs (leather): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Cuffs (metal): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Cutting: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Diapers (wearing): tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Diapers (wetting): tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Diapers (soiling): tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Dilation: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Dildos: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Double Penetration: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: Just my cock and a dildo
Electricity: tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Enemas (for cleansing): tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Enemas ( retention/punishment): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Enforced chastity: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Erotic Dance (for audience): tried it? YES. Scale:5 Notes: For Me only
Examinations (physical): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Exercise (forced/required): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Exhibitionism (friends): tried it: YES. Scale: 3
Exhibitionism (strangers): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Eye contact restrictions: tried it? YES. Scale: 2
Face Slapping: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Fantasy Abandonment: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Fantasy rape: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Fantasy gang rape: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Fear (being scared): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Fisting (anal): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Fisting (vaginal): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Flame play: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Following orders: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Foot worship: tried it? NO. Scale: 1
Forced bedwetting: tried it? No. Scale: 0
forced dressing: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Forced eating: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Forced homosexuality: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Forced heterosexuality: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Forced masturbation: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Forced nudity (private): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Forced nudity (around others): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Forced Servitude: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Forced smoking: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Full head hoods: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: Sensory deprivation (sight & sound) hoods
Gags (cloth): tried it? YES. Scale: 2
Gags (inflatable): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Gags (phallic): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Gags (rubber): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Gags (tape): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Gas masks: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Gates of Hell (male)?: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Genital sex: triedd it? YES. Scale: 5
Given away to another Dom (temp): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Given away to another Dom (perm): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Golden Showers: tried it? YES. Scale: 1
Gun play: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Hair brush spankings: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Hair pulling: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Hand Jobs (giving): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Hand Jobs (receiving): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Harems (serving w/other subs): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Harnessing (leather): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Harnessing (rope): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Having food chosen for you: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: Choosing for my sub
Having clothing chosen for you: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: Choosing for my sub
(head (give fellatio/cunnilingus): tried it? YES to both. Scale: 5
Head (rcv fellation/cunnilingus): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
High Heel Wearing: tried it: NO. Scale: 0
High Heel Worship: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Homage with tongue (non-sexual): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Hoods: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Hot oils (on genitals): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Hot waxing: tried it: YES. Scale: 5 Notes: Hot WAX
Housework (doing): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Human puppy dog: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Humiliation (private): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Humiliation (public): tired it? YES. Scale: 3
Hypnotism: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Ice cubes: tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Immobilization: tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Infantilism: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Initiation rites: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Injections: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Intricate (Japanese) rope bondage: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Interrogations: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Kidnapping: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Kneeling: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Knife play: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Leather Clothing: tried it? YES. Scale: 1
Leather restraints: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Lectures for misbehavior: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Licking (non-sexual): tried it? NO. Scale: 0 Notes: Cock-warming= have tried it, and 3
Lingerie (wearing): tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: My sub wearing it
Manacles and Irons: tried it: tried it? YES. Scale: 1
Manicures (giving): tried it: NO. Scale: 0
Massage (giving): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Massage (receiving): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Medical scenes: tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Modeling for erotic photos: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Mouth bits: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Mummification: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Name change (for scene): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Nipple clamps: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Nipple rings (piercing): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Nipple weights: tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Oral/anal play (rimming): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Over the knee spanking: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Orgasm denial: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Orgasm control: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Outdoor scenes: tried it: NO. Scale: 0
Pain (severe): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Pain (mild): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Persona training (in scene): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Personal modification (rl): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Phone sex (serving Dom): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Phone sex (serving Dom’s friends): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Phone sex (commercial provider): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Piercing (temporary, play-pierce): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Piercing (permanent): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Plastic surgery: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Prison scenes: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Prostitution (public pretense): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Prostitution (actual): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Pony slave: tried it? YES. Scale: 0
Public exposure: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Punishment scene: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Pussy/cock whipping: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Pussy worship: tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Riding crops: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Riding the "horse" (crotch tort): tried it? YES. Scale: 4 Notes: haven't actually done this, but variations of CT are fine
Rituals: tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Religious scenes: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Restrictive rules on behavior: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Rubber/latex clothing: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Rope body harness: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Saran wrap: tried it? YES. Scale: 0
Scarification: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Scratching - getting: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: only light, in-the-moment vs focused activity
Scratching - giving: tried it? YES. Scale: 2
Sensory deprivation: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Serving: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Serving as art: tried it? YES. Scale: 5 Notes: posing while I draw
Serving as ashtray: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Serving as furniture: tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Serving as a maid: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Serving as a toilet (urine): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Serving as a toilet (feces): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Serving as waitress/waiter: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Serving orally (sexual): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Serving other Doms (supervised): tried it? YES. Scale: 4 Notes: non-sexually when guests come over.
Serving other Doms (unsupervised): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Sexual deprivation (short term): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Sexual deprivation (long term): tried it? YES. Scale; 1
Shaving (body hair): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Shaving (head hair): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Skinny dipping: tried it? NO. Scale: 1
Sleep deprivation: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Sleep sacks: tried it? NO. Scale: 3
Slutty clothing (private): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Slutty clothing (public): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Spandex clothing: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Spanking: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Speech restrictions (when/what): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Speculums (anal): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Speculums (vaginal): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Spitting: tried it? YES. Scale: 0
Spreader bars: tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Standing in corner: tried it? YES. Scale: 2 Notes: a useful punishment that I don't like to have to give, but often do
Stocks: tried it? NO. Scale: 2
Straight jackets: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Strap-on-dildos (sucking on): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Strap-on-dildos (penetrated by): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Strap-on-dildos (wearing): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Strapping (full body beating): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Suspension (upright): tried it? YES. Scale: 3 Notes: Only with feet firmly on the floor
Suspension (inverted): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Supplying new partners for Dom: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Swallowing feces: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Swallowing semen: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Swallowing urine: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Swapping (with one other couple): tried it? YES. Scale: 3 Notes: Not 'swapping'; just having sex while Elektra and her sub are in the same room
Swinging (multiple couples): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Tampon training (in ass): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Tattooing: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Teasing: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
TENS unit (electrical toy): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Thumb cuffs (metal): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Tickling: tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Triple Penetration: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Urethral Sounds (metal rods): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Uniforms: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Including others: tried it? YES. Scale: 3 Notes: Elektra and her sub visiting
Vaginal dildo: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Verbal humiliation: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Vibrator on genitals: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Violet wand (electrical toy): tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Voyeurism (watching others): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Voyeurism (your Sub w/others): tried it: YES. Scale: 2 Notes: light affection my sub w/ Elektra's sub
Video (watching others): tried it? YES. Scale: 3
Video (recordings of you): tried it? YES. Scale: 4
Water torture: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Waxing (hair removal): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Wearing symbolic jewelry: tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Weight gain (forced): tried it? YES. Scale: 2 Notes: Sub was underweight/not eating.
Weight loss (forced): tried it? NO. Scale: 0
Whipping: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Wooden paddles: tried it? YES. Scale: 5
Wrestling: tried it? NO. Scale: 2 Notes: As long as I win ;)

Chapter Text

Up in his room, Steve flicks the lights onto low and goes to sit on the bed. Bucky comes over too, and Steve points at the floor. Bucky is quick to obey, sinking quietly to his knees, and Steve smiles at him. “Good. That’s going to be your routine whenever we come in here to play. You’ll get on your knees and wait for me to tell you what to do.” He watches Bucky intently. “Got it?”

Bucky nods, eyes wide and eager. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Steve prompts.

Bucky’s lips part breathily. “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve hums, thoughtful. “Mm, maybe not,” he says, peering down at Bucky.

…Bucky, who looks confused. “What?”

Steve stand up and steps closer to him, placing a hand on his head. He can feel the way that Bucky leans into it. “I don’t think I’m your Daddy tonight,” he tells him quietly. “I don’t think that’s what I want.”

Bucky is practically vibrating as he looks up at him. “It’s not?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “No. All that talk about your humiliation fetish has got me feeling a little meaner.” He cups Bucky’s chin, tilting his face up. “Do you feel okay with that?”

Bucky pants. “Yes. Yes Da—” he pauses, unsure and looking to Steve for direction. “I… what…”

Steve squeezes his jaw. “Sir,” he tells him, soaking in the way that Bucky’s eyes go a shade darker.

“Oh, fuck.” He licks his lips. “Yes, Sir.”

Steve feels like he wants to pick Bucky up and swing him around in a circle, he’s so pleased with him. Fuck, if this kid isn’t the best thing he’s found in the last decade. “C’mere,” he says quietly, pulling with his hand. “Get up.”

Bucky scrambles to rise with the hand at his jaw, getting to his feet in front of Steve with a breathless exhale. “Hi,” he says once he’s there, cheeks flushing nicely.

“Hey, Baby.” Steve smiles and then draws him in for a kiss. Bucky sighs and melts into it without any resistance, his lips parting automatically for Steve to take him however he wants. The easy surrender makes Steve growl and hold him tighter, some possessive piece of himself thrilling at having this beautiful boy so willing to obey. He kisses him, nipping his bottom lip to get him to whine, and then shutting him up by shoving his tongue into his mouth. Bucky makes a ‘mmph’ sound, hands flying up to grab Steve’s shoulders. When Steve pulls back, he’s treated to the sight of Bucky, panting and untethered, his eyes blown wide. “The difference,” Steve murmurs, “between punishment and discipline, is the intent behind it.” He steps backwards to the edge of the bed, pulling Bucky along with him. When he sinks down to sitting on the mattress, he tugs Bucky up against his front, slotting one thigh between his legs.

Bucky twitches, hips stuttering forward without thought. “What’s—” he swallows. “What’s the intent?”

“Punishment is done to show you when you’ve been bad. It’s to correct you and make you sorry, make you willing to be better. I do it to you, for you.” He smirks. “And of course if we’re just fooling around—like how you messed your paper up so badly—then it’s just a play punishment. It might hurt, but it’s to get you off at that point.”

Bucky breathes with his lips parted, looking entranced. “And… the other one?”

Steve fights back a smile. “Discipline is something I do to you, for me. It’s something that’s meant to give me pleasure and the opportunity to enjoy you, and you’re just a plaything, nothing more.” He strokes his thumb tenderly along Bucky’s cheekbone. “It’s actually a very selfish action, on my part. I don’t do it for a real purpose other than my own satisfaction. It’s not to correct you or to improve you, not necessarily to make you feel good, either. In fact, sometimes you might not enjoy it very much at all.” Bucky whimpers and Steve shushes him. “But I’m not cruel, Bucky. Even when we’re like this and you’re calling me Sir, I’ll never be cruel to you. Mean, maybe, but not cruel. You’ll always have limits, and your safewords. Do you understand?”

Bucky nods. “Yes Sir.”

Steve smiles. “Good boy. You’re very brave, you know that? It means a lot to me that you’re placing your trust in me.” The praise makes Bucky blush and smile, which is adorable. Steve kisses his forehead. “No matter how I discipline you, it can still be good for you, in a certain way. You may or may not feel good physically, but you can always get satisfaction from knowing you’ve pleased me.” He looks at Bucky, searching his eyes. “Does that make sense?”

Bucky nods. “Mmhm.” His eyes are back to looking glassy, which makes Steve think he’s slipping into his headspace again. “You feel good, honey?” he asks.

“M’yeah,” Bucky says, and Steve chuckles.

“God, you’re so fucking easy. You know what? I don’t even think we’ll do discipline tonight. We’ll just do a scene, but I get to pick.” Bucky grumbles at that but Steve shuts him up with another kiss, not stopping until he’s got him whimpering into his mouth again. “Did you wear what I told you to?” he asks softly once they’ve parted.

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“Show me.”

Bucky hurries to comply. He’s wobbly for a second when he pulls back from Steve, but manages to steady himself and pull his sweater off. It gets tossed to the side in a heap—which Steve keeps his mouth shut about but makes a mental note for correction in the future—then he gets his fingers at the fly of his jeans. He undoes them, eyes shooting up to Steve and watching him as the jeans get pulled down.

Steve inhales as Bucky steps out of his pants, kicking them out of the way. Then he’s just standing there, looking eager but unsure in his grey silk panties. “Oh, baby,” Steve breathes, totally gone for the way Bucky looks in the delicate undergarment. “Come here.”

Bucky scoots forward, coming to stand between Steve’s spread thighs. “You like it?”

Steve growls and grabs him by the hips, staring down at him. “Shh, sweetheart. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Bucky shivers underneath his palms and makes a happy noise, Steve notices. He peeks up at him. “You like being reminded how silly you are, hm? How simple?” he asks, watching Bucky’s expression carefully. “Being told when you’re getting a little fuck dumb?”

Bucky flushes, nodding. “Yeah Daddy.”

Steve smiles and lets the slip go. He’ll remind Bucky soon, just who his Sir is. “Well you are, honey. Just look at you. Losing your words already, can’t even talk.” He chuckles. “You just squirm and make pretty sounds. And that’s alright. I like that. It’s what you’re useful for.”

Bucky’s eyes are blown out, he’s so happy.

Steve smiles tenderly at him, appreciating how perfectly compliant he is. Fuck, he wants to do so much for Bucky. Steve swallows to get a hold of himself. He looks down and rubs his thumbs along the lace detailing at the edges of the underwear. “These look really good on you. I didn’t even have to tell you twice did I? One mention of it and here you were, showing up with your junk stuffed in some girly panties.” Bucky whines and Steve glances up, grinning. “Yeah, you’re too easy for me.” He stares at Bucky’s crotch, enjoying the sight of his dick and balls behind the silk. He can see the bulge of him, see how he’s plumped up from arousal—the obscene stretch at the front of the panties that definitely weren’t made for a man of Bucky’s size (or a man at all). Steve’s lips twitch. “So pretty.” He lets his fingers trace the outline of his cock through the fabric, thumbs rubbing firmly to make him twitch and get bigger. He touches where a tiny wet spot is forming from his precome. “Sweetheart, you creaming your panties already?”

Bucky’s legs tremble, hips stuttering forward against Steve’s touch. “Ohh,” he sighs, grabbing Steve’s shoulders to balance. “Yes Sir.

Steve hums and palms the front of the panties, rubbing over Bucky’s dick. Bucky whimpers and sighs, but Steve is mostly focused on watching the underwear get tighter and tighter around his erection, feeling him firm up against his hand. Steve rubs and rubs, and soon Bucky’s fully hard, pulsing his hips against Steve’s touches and panting out little excited breaths. “You like that, honey?” Steve asks, even though he already knows just how much Bucky is loving this. “Like being sweet for me?”


“Mm, you look real slutty, you know that? All trussed up in your panties.”

Bucky’s eyes bug out. Distantly, he remembers that day over a month ago when he’d first bought the panties, when he’d worn them and jerked off in his bedroom while imagining Steve saying these very same things to him. Bucky’s dreams are coming true. “I like it,” he says, breathless and kind of stupidly. But that’s okay, he thinks in a haze. Steve doesn’t mind. Steve likes it when he gets stupid. He said so. “S’pretty,” he mumbles.

“Yeah it is.” Steve reaches into the underwear and lifts his cock, repositioning it more comfortably. “There, that’s better.” The head of Bucky’s dick doesn’t fit, is peeking out over the waistband. It’s the most gorgeous thing Steve’s seen in a while, and he feels his own dick thickening in his pants. “Fuck, Bucky. I’d love to take a picture of this.” He hears Bucky whine in protest to that, but pays him no mind. He just rules out the picture idea for now. He cups Bucky’s balls with one hand, reaching with the other to gently finger the part of the head that’s peeking through his foreskin. Bucky’s shiny and wet at the tip already, and Steve spreads the moisture around. Above him, Bucky makes a debased sort of noise as his hips jerk forward again.

“Please,” he begs, and he’s staring straight down at his cock, eyes riveted on where Steve’s teasing him. “Please.”

Steve gives Bucky’s balls a friendly pat, then pulls his hands back entirely. He has to fight back a smile at hearing Bucky’s upset whine. “Shh, none of that. C’mere.” He yanks Bucky towards him, guiding him to settle on his lap, straddling both of his legs. “There you go,” he says, holding him with both hands at the small of his back. “I love teasing you, you know that?” Bucky hums an answer, and Steve says. “Remember how I said that discipline can hurt? How you might not get to come from it?”

Bucky whimpers, but he does nod. “Yes Sir.”

“You’d let me do that, wouldn’t you? You’d let me tie you up and spank you silly, then fuck you hard and not let you come? Make you go to bed all wrung out and still aching for it?” Steve pets up and down the warm skin of Bucky’s back. “Answer me, honey.”

Bucky looks like it physically pains him as he nods and agrees, saying, “Yes, Sir,” in the tiniest voice. “Wanna be your good boy.”

Aw. Steve beams at him, pulling him in for a hug and kissing at his temple. “You are, Bucky. You’re very good. That’s why I’m going to go easy on you tonight. We’re just going to have a little fun, alright? I’m gonna make you do lots of silly things, but no pain. And if you’re very, very good, I might let you come.”

Bucky keens and rubs his face against Steve’s neck in pleasure. “Thank you, Sir.”

Steve chuckles. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You have to be good first, have to let me play with you.”

Bucky’s hair tickles Steve’s cheek as he nods eagerly.

Steve pets his back soothingly and tells him, “I think you’ll really like it.”


“Yeah. You know why I think that?”

Bucky’s voice is breathy when he asks, “Why?”

“Because it’s going to be really fucking humiliating,” Steve says, whispering the words in Bucky’s ear as if they’re secret, tender things. He feels Bucky shudder against him, feels the roll his hips give, pressing his erection against Steve’s stomach. Steve tugs on his hair a little, warning, “Cut that out now.”


Steve kisses him one last time, then finagles his way out from under Bucky. “Get up on the bed,” he tells him gently. “Hands and knees.” Bucky obeys, body moving fluidly but slowly, like his limbs are filled with molasses. Steve spends a minute just watching him as he gets into place, admiring the shape of his body, the already-wrecked look of him. “Bucky?” he asks, waiting until he can tell that he has his attention. “How’re you feeling right now?”

Bucky doesn’t even look at him. His lips just curl up in a lazy smile. “Good. Floaty.”

Steve gets so much satisfaction from hearing that, from seeing it happen right before his eyes. There’s probably nothing that makes him feel more powerful, he thinks, than helping a submissive reach subspace. Because he did that to Bucky. With just a few words and glancing touches, he’s made Bucky feel so good that endorphins are flooding his brain, making him feel high. Steve loves that so much, is turned on by it to no end. He has to take a deep breath and get a hold of himself, has to reach down and push the heel of his palm against his dick. It gives him a little relief, but Steve doesn’t try to stroke himself off at all. He knows he’s got a full evening ahead of him, and he’s undoubtedly going to be just as aching and hard for it as Bucky is.

The thing is, though, Steve won’t mind it. He’s going to have control. He’s going to show his Boy a good fucking time.

“Eyes down,” he commands softly. Bucky listens, and Steve sets to gathering the things he needs for this scene they’re about to do. Once he’s got it all, he sets the items on the bed just in front of Bucky, so that he can see. Steve watches with a degree of satisfaction as Bucky’s eyes fixate, his lips parting. “What do you think?” Steve asks. “You want to play?”

Bucky nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Yes Sir,” Steve corrects.

“Yes—” Bucky’s eyes slip shut as Steve strokes a hand into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. “Yessir, oh.”

Steve chuckles. “Dumb little puppy,” he murmurs, the words coming out as something fond and affectionate. Bucky’s pressing his head into Steve’s touch again, and Steve suspects that he’d be purring right now, if he could. He cards his fingers into Bucky’s hair and takes hold of it, closing his fist and pulling back. Bucky’s eyes fly open and his lips part in a gasp. It’s not the gentlest touch, but the look on his face tells Steve that he likes it very much. Steve’s eyes rove over him, appreciating the sight of his throat, bared and straining prettily from Steve’s hold. “That’s what you’re going to be, tonight,” Steve says. He holds Bucky’s gaze as he tells him, “I’m going to make it real easy for you. You won’t have to talk or do anything a smart boy has to do.” He leans down and presses a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. Bucky whines. “Just gotta be my sweet pup,” he whispers against his skin.

Sir,” Bucky says breathily. “Please. I wanna…” he licks his lips, running out of words and instead just meeting Steve’s eyes imploringly. “Please?”

Steve picks up the collar he’s brought over and holds it to Bucky’s throat. It’s tan leather; a nice thickness, with heavily-padded lining on the inside. Steve can feel Bucky’s swallow under his hands as he’s buckling it in place. “You okay, pup?”

Bucky whines, flushing so beautifully that it makes Steve’s heart hurt. He squirms in place, eyes flicking around like he doesn’t know where to look. “I can’t… I-I don’t… …green.” He nearly whispers that last part, telling Steve his color, that he’s okay.

Steve smiles proudly and strokes his hair. “Mm, that’s good, but I really don’t think you need to be babbling nonsense words for the rest of the night, do you?”

Bucky’s eyes widen comically, and then he shakes his head in agreement.

Steve picks up the panel gag from the bed. “Hold still for me, Sweetheart.” He holds it to Bucky’s face in the front and does the fastenings in the back, and a moment later he’s got the gag secure. It covers Bucky’s face from chin to nose—a flat panel of black leather that, in Steve’s opinion, looks quite striking on him. He watches Bucky as he gets used to the feeling of it. “The ball inside,” he says. “It was inflatable, but based on what you said about having your mouth too full, I cut off the tubing that could make it bigger.” He looks questioningly at him. “Is it okay like this?”

Bucky nods. “‘Mmph’.”

Steve laughs, “Is that so?”

Bucky groans and makes another noise, this one sounding more like “‘Urmph’,”

Steve tuts. “That’s a stupid sound, baby. Are you trying to talk?”

Bucky whimpers, but he doesn’t shake his head to say no.

Steve grins. He takes Bucky’s chin in hand and forces him to meet his eyes as he says, “Only people talk, Buck. And you’re not a person right now. You’re just a sweet, dumb animal for me to play around with. Understand?”

Bucky whimpers again. It’s a wonderful sound.

Steve strokes his naked back, fingers trailing downwards until they reach the waistband on the panties. “Silly pups don’t wear underwear, either,” he tells him. One hand slips between Bucky’s legs and cups his trapped cock through the silk. “Oh no, and you’re getting these all messy, honey. Why don’t we take them off?” He doesn’t wait for Bucky to do anything before he pulls the fabric over Bucky’s ass, down his thighs. Bucky moves each leg obediently when Steve needs him to. The panties get flung away somewhere unimportant. “That’s better.” Steve’s hand finds Bucky’s cock where it’s hanging, fat and heavy between his legs, and gives it a perfunctory squeeze.

Bucky grunts and moves into it.

“You must be excited if your little dick is out,” Steve tells him. He strokes him a couple of times, watching the way that Bucky’s features tense and his nostrils flare over the gag. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, not even really intending to say it out loud. Quietly, he leans in closer and tells him, “I’m not going to restrain you tonight. So if you need to stop, just push to get away from me and stand up. I’ll know if you’re using your full strength, and I’ll stop immediately and ungag you. Okay?”

Bucky’s eyes shoot over, big and focused and understanding. He nods.

Steve smiles. “Good boy.” He rubs the tip of Bucky’s dick, working the foreskin over it gently before letting go. He gets a mighty whine from Bucky at that, but he just shushes him and smacks his butt playfully. “Hush, none of that. Remember: if you’re really good tonight and behave while I’m playing with you, I might decide to get you off.” Bucky’s eyes light up, enthused, and Steve laughs at him. “Yeah, maybe I’ll let you hump my leg or something.”

The way that Bucky instantly colors at those words is marvelous, and Steve ruffles his hair as he moves to pick up the fist mitts he’d laid aside. “Don’t need your hands tonight, either,” he tells him, matter-of-fact. Bucky is loose and compliant in letting him close his hands inside the padded leather. Steve buckles them shut and stands back. “Wow, Sweetheart,” he says, petting Bucky’s hair appreciatively. “You look real silly right now, you know that?”

Bucky whines.

“Shh. You know I like it.” He sits on the bed and pulls Bucky to lie down. “There you go.”

Bucky sighs happily and pushes his head against Steve’s thigh.

“Hey there,” Steve says, smiling and petting his head. “You feeling sweet, baby?” Bucky hums and nods, and Steve leans down to place a kiss on his forehead. “Silly puppy,” he murmurs affectionately. “You’re just eating this shit up, aren’t you?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up to him and he nods.

“Yeah, I thought you would.” Steve stands up and points to the floor. “Come on, get down here.”

Bucky moves slowly, and Steve figures it’s half because he’s in subspace and half because he’s just so goddamn embarrassed at the state of himself, of being told to get down on the floor. Bucky knows Steve’s going to make him crawl. Not such a dumb puppy after all, Steve thinks fondly. “Come on,” he says, picking up the last remaining items off the mattress. “I want to go downstairs and watch a movie.” He walks off swiftly, striding from the room at his normal pace and leaving Bucky behind to whine and scramble to catch up.


Steve microwaves himself a big bag of popcorn, because he can, and because it reinforces the fact that Bucky isn’t a person who gets to eat popcorn during movies. When Steve comes out of the kitchen, it’s to see Bucky finally making his way from the bottom of the stairs and into the living room. Steve’s heart warms. Bucky’s knees are red and irritated. He’d crawled all the way down the stairs, bless his heart. “Good boy,” Steve says with a smile. “No cheating even when I wasn’t looking. That’s very good.”

What little Steve can see of Bucky’s face looks pleased. He crawls over to sit at his feet, looking up. Steve points at the couch. “Gonna pick a movie.”

Steve gets settled quickly, and he’s flicking through the guide for a few seconds before he realizes that he hasn’t felt the couch dip from an additional weight; that Bucky is still on the floor, looking up at him questioningly. “Oh, Sweetheart, are you waiting for me to call you up here?” Bucky nods and Steve beams. “What a good boy.” He pats the cushion next to him and says, “Come on, it’s allowed.”

Bucky is very quick to scrabble onto the couch and curl himself up in the smallest ball possible (which really isn’t very small at all) next to him.

Steve smiles and pets him with the hand that isn’t holding the remote. “My ma never approved of dogs on the furniture,” he tells him as he flicks through the movie channels. “But you’re allowed. I like having you right here with me.”

He finds a movie that he remembers seeing the previews for last year. He puts it on, petting Bucky’s hair mindlessly as he watches. Really, he’s only vaguely paying attention to the film, most of his thoughts on what he’s going to do with Bucky next, and after that, and after that. That’s the most intoxicating part of it all, the part that never fails to get Steve’s brain hyper-focused and buzzing with feelings of protection and power: the fact that Bucky is his and will let him do the filthiest, sexiest, most ridiculous things to him, any time Steve wants. He’s got a sub curled against his side like a lapdog and an evening full of possibilities, and Steve. is. relaxed.

…That is until he feels the little jostles as Bucky keeps moving around, trying to get comfortable. Steve glances down to tell him to settle, but… Oh.

Bucky’s not trying to get comfortable. He’s squirming, trying to press his useless, mitted fists against his still-hard cock.

Bucky,” Steve says sternly.

Bucky’s hands freeze and his eyes shoot up. He whines and pushes his face back into Steve’s thigh, hiding himself there.

Steve just scoffs and pauses the movie. “Oh now you’re embarrassed? A second ago you were about to start humping the couch cushion.”

Bucky whines and shakes his head. “‘Mmn! Mm-mn!’

Steve grabs hold of his hair, using the grip the pull him up. “Look at me,” he commands, stomach fluttering when Bucky’s mournful eyes come up, so damned submissive it hurts. Steve’s wants him so bad. “You just want to rub your little cock?” he asks. “Is that all you can think about?”

Bucky shakes his head frantically, but Steve ignores him. He pushes Bucky back on the sofa and gets up, going to get the items he’d brought from upstairs. He brings them over with a stern look and a gesture for Bucky to turn around. “Hands and knees,” he says, “facing away from me. There you go.” Steve sighs as if put upon, coming up on the couch behind Bucky and reaching for his cock. He pulls it down and back between his legs, looking his fill and listening to the sweet whimpers Bucky makes at being examined so closely. Bucky’s thighs start to close together, but Steve just slaps a hand to keep them apart. “Oh no you don’t. Hold still, I’m looking at it.” Bucky whines, and Steve smirks. “Thought this was what you were after?” he taunts. “All the attention on your dick. Greedy thing.” He rubs his thumb under the head, moving the skin over his sensitive frenulum.

Steve watches, entranced, as a bead of precome gathers at the tip, welling up before breaking and creating a lazy string down to the couch. He huffs and complains like it’s a problem. “Christ, Bucky. You’re dripping all over the couch. Ugh, now I see why naughty pups like you can’t be trusted on furniture.” He taps at Bucky’s balls, squeezes his dick and wrings downward, making the foreskin bunch over the head. “Should’a had you fixed,” he murmurs.

Bucky trembles at that, whimpering sweetly and fighting to hold still like he’s been told to.

Steve sees it; sees how Bucky’s just buzzing with arousal and embarrassment and anticipation. He lets go of his cock and pushes a firm hand in-between his shoulder blades. “Front half down, ass up.” Bucky moves with the push, and Steve hums in approval. “There you go. Now you’re asking for it the right way, presenting for me.”

Bucky moans, voice muffled by the gag. “‘Mmph!’

Steve just swats his ass. “Honestly, Buck. I didn’t think I’d have to do this, but if you’re so damned horny that you can’t even concentrate…” he grabs up the little bottle of lube, dumping a bunch onto his fingers. He swipes it into Bucky’s crack and Bucky keens. “Then I’ll just have to give you something to help you settle yourself, huh?” He rubs over Bucky’s hole, working a finger in quickly, and then another in very short order.

Bucky pants where his face is pressed against the cushions, fighting not to make any noise as he’s overwhelmed by sensation. Between his legs, his cock hangs heavy and red.

“Nothing worse than a puppy that goes around with its dick out all the time, humping against whatever’s in the room,” Steve mutters. He’s pumping his fingers steadily, knuckles bumping Bucky’s ass with each thrust. “What do think? Do you need a nice knotting to calm down?”

Steve doesn’t know if Bucky’s heard of the whole ‘breeding’ kink before, but he clearly figures it out when he catches sight of the inflatable butt plug that Steve’s grabbing off the coffee table. “‘Mmnn!’” he cries, whining and scrubbing his face into the couch. “‘Hnngh!’

“Shh,” Steve soothes. He lubes up the plug and presses it against Bucky’s hole, rocking it gently to get it going in. “You don’t know what’s best for you. I’m doing this for your own good, so you can calm down and be a good puppy. Don’t you want to be good for me anymore?”

Bucky squeaks and nods. “‘Mmphf! Mmhm’.”

“More stupid noises”, Steve says, though his voice is softer now—more fond and demeaning. “I know you want to be good, baby. It’s just hard, isn’t it? You just can’t think right, aren’t smart enough to know what you need.”

Bucky sniffles and nods again, making a mournful noise in his throat that Steve finds too goddamn cute for the situation.

“Aw,” he says, pushing the plug until it slips all the way in, its flared base resting outside of Bucky’s rim. “There. Gonna feel better in a sec, honey.” He squeezes the bulb that’s connected to the plug by tubing, giving it several pumps and listening to the hiss as air goes in. All the muscles in Bucky’s back tense and bunch, his breath coming hard out of his nose as he makes a gut-punched noise beneath the gag. “I know, I know,” Steve soothes. “It gets big, huh?” Fully-inflated, the thing is only slightly smaller than Steve’s fist.

Bucky whines and nods his head, moaning in short little bursts as Steve pumps the plug up. “‘Mm, mm, mm!’

Steve knows from testing the thing out, that ten or eleven pumps will get it fully-inflated. He gives one last squeeze, then detaches the tubing and sets it aside. Bucky is shivering in place, body held taut, as is he doesn’t know whether he should be excited or scared.

“Shhh,” Steve soothes, running both hands up and down the planes of Bucky’s back. “You’re just fine, sweet thing. This is what you needed, I think. Just needed to get filled up a little.” Bucky makes a high noise of agreement—or distress, Steve really can’t tell—and pushes his hips back in the air. Steve laughs. “Typical puppy,” he teases. “No self-control. Good thing you’ve got me here to take care of you, ‘else every stud in the neighborhood’d be chasing you around and trying to mount this pretty ass.” He squeezes Bucky’s cheeks possessively, slapping them lightly a few times just to watch them pink up. Bucky doesn’t stop thrusting back, nor do his noises become any less pleasured. He’s feeling good, and Steve, being in a very generous mood, decides he’ll help him out. He reaches down and starts tugging on his cock again, only this time it’s steadier, more rhythmic. “Let’s work an orgasm out of you so we can finish the movie, okay?” Steve says it matter-of-fact, like he’s commenting on the fact that Bucky needs a haircut, or his nails trimmed. “We’ll get your little dick put away and you can focus on just being a good boy for me.”

Bucky nods and humps back into Steve’s fist as he milks him. There isn’t much technique to it besides steady, unwavering strokes. Steve works his cock with one hand and taps the base of the plug with the other. Bucky’s noises quickly go from whimpers and keens, to grunts and moans. His cock gets impossibly hard in Steve’s grasp, and then he lets out a long, debased groan and starts shooting, white and messy onto the couch.

Steve hums, “There you go. Get it all out, baby.” He strokes him through it, gentling his pace down to nothing and loosening his fist until he lets go completely.

Bucky groans and inhales deeply, letting it out in an exhausted sigh.

Steve sits back and pats him on the flank. “Alright, now that we’ve got that taken care of, I can watch my movie.” He settles back into his spot on the couch and picks up the popcorn bowl. The movie gets unpaused and Bucky is turning around to crawl over and curl up against his side, like he’d been doing before. But Steve just tuts and point at the floor. “No more couch privileges,” he says.

Bucky’s eyes go wide, and then his face pinches in what Steve can tell is bratty protest.

Get,” he commands. Bucky starts to climb down to the floor, petulant, and Steve tells him, “Tough luck, pup. You can’t control yourself; you sit on the floor. Besides,” he glances at the spot where Bucky had unloaded his come onto the couch. “You’ve made a huge fucking mess of the cushions.”

Bucky sighs through his nose and gets settled on the floor. Steve can tell that it takes him a bit of maneuvering to find a position that’s comfortable enough with the inflated plug still in his ass. He pets Bucky indulgently on the head when he settles. “Good boy,” he says. “Now be still and let me watch my movie.”


A full hour and a half later, and the end credits are finally rolling. Steve had watched the entire movie, a little more entertained by it than he’d expected, and eyes drifting down to Bucky during the boring parts. Bucky is such a good boy, Steve amazes. Here they are, engaging in what is definitely one of Steve’s top five kinks, and Bucky is just taking it beautifully, sinking into the role with hardly any effort. It’s beautiful and entertaining as fuck—certainly more entertaining than the movie they’ve just watched (Steve had noticed Bucky watching, but hadn’t deigned it necessary to point out that stupid puppies didn’t watch tv. They don’t have to be that literal about it.)

Softly, so as not to startle Bucky, Steve says, “Hey, Buck.” Bucky turn his head, then turns full body until he’s kneeling between Steve’s legs. Steve smiles at him fondly and sets the empty popcorn bowl aside. He pats his thigh, saying, “Up.” It only takes a gentle touch to show Bucky that he should only come up to kneel closer between his legs, not crawl into his lap. Steve hums, pleased. “This is a good place for you,” he tells him. “Right between my legs. Are you ready to listen?”

Bucky nods, eyes glazed but eager.

He is so gone, Steve thinks, loving the sight. “Good. I think it’s my turn to feel good now, don’t you?”

Bucky nods again, shuffling even closer. He looks down to Steve’s legs, to where his cock rests beneath his sweatpants, and makes a small whimper—a confused noise.

Steve pets his hair. “What’s wrong puppy? Are you too dumb to figure even this out?”

Bucky shakes his head, making his “‘Mmph’,” sound of discontent. He leans forward and nuzzles at Steve’s crotch, whining.

“Oh. You want to get at it, don’t you?” Steve chuckles. “Well I suppose I can help you out, since you’re so helpless right now.” He leans forward and gently unbuckles the gag, pulling it off Bucky’s face. It’s strange, how nice it is to see his lips again, the line of jaw. “This doesn’t mean you get to talk, now,” Steve warns, holding Bucky’s chin. “You’re not exactly smart enough for that, are you?”

Bucky blushes, cheeks pinking as he shakes his head.

“I know, I know. But you’re still my good boy; still want to be sweet for me and make me happy. Isn’t that right?”

Bucky nods, quick and fast. “‘Hmn hm’.” His sound is much more legible without the gag, but he’s done a good job by obeying Steve and keeping his mouth shut.

“I want you to suck my cock,” he tells him. “You can do that for me, can’t you sweetheart?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he surges forward and nuzzles his face against Steve’s crotch even more enthusiastically. “‘Mmmm’,” he says. “‘Mm hm’.”

Steve chuckles. “Aw, so eager. I’m glad that fat knot I put up inside you got you settled. Now you can actually be useful.”

Bucky agrees with a noise and nods, eager for that.

“All this fun and I’m the one who hasn’t had any release yet.” Steve tuts. “You’re lucky you have such a nice Sir, aren’t you?”

‘Mmmm’.” Bucky smiles.

“That’s right. Come on and pull my sweats down.” Steve just sits there and watches with a fair degree of amusement as Bucky brings his hands up, realizes that he still has the mitts on, then huffs in frustration. When he glances up pleadingly, Steve just raises an eyebrow. “Figure it out,” he says. “You can do it.”

Bucky huffs but seems to take that in stride. He makes an effort to use his balled-up fists to bring the waistband down, but after a few tries he hasn’t succeeded. He glares at the mitts like they’re something awful. Steve just pets a hand through his hair, content to wait and watch him struggle. Eventually, Bucky decides to go in with his mouth, using his teeth to get hold of the elastic and tug it down.

Steve is merciful enough to lift his hips off the couch in assistance. “There you go,” he praises, once Bucky’s gotten his pants out of the way. “Now you can really get to work.”

Bucky goes right in. Steve’s dick is laying against his thigh, fattened up just from what they’re doing, but not erect. He watches with a heated stare as Bucky leans in to lick tentatively along the length of him. Steve knows it must be a challenge, trying to bring him to full hardness without the use of his hands, but Bucky just keeps at it, licking up to the head and taking it into the heat of his mouth, suckling softly.

Bucky’s lips wrapped around his cock is a sight that Steve wants to capture on film one day. If Bucky will let him. For now he just stares, lips parting with pleasured breaths as Bucky focuses on his task, holding Steve’s cockhead between his lips and rubbing his tongue along the sensitive underside. Steve hisses and jerks, hands flying to Bucky’s hair. “Fuck,” he whispers. He’s hardening, cock jumping against Bucky’s tongue, firm enough to make the blow job easier.

Bucky’s eyes move up to look him in the eye, staring meaningfully. And then he sinks down in a slow, focused slide.

Steve’s belly pulses with arousal, the feeling and the sight of Bucky hurrying him along faster than even Steve manages with his own hand when he masturbates. “Oh, Bucky,” he breathes, fighting not to fuck up into his mouth. “Bucky, baby. Yes, that is so good. You’re so fucking—uh—so fucking good for me.”

Bucky hums, sucking lightly and bobbing up and down a little bit faster. His spit is accumulating, coating Steve’s whole cock now and making the slide easier. Steve grips his hair tighter but fights back the urge to yank on it. He wants Bucky to do this, he thinks; wants him to do all the work. “Good,” he just keeps praising him, telling him over and over how pretty he is, how talented, how obedient. The words only seem to spur Bucky on farther, and Steve had already known the kid had a praise kink, but it’s still nice to see it in action. “‘Good fucking boy,” he grits out. “M’close baby. You’re gonna make me come.”

Another hum, this one travelling straight down Steve’s dick to his balls, which are drawn up tight to his body, ready to unload all over Bucky’s tongue. “I’m gonna tell you when,” Steve pants, groin muscles clenching, close to the edge. “You pop off and hold still when I say, you hear me? M’gonna get it all over that pretty face.”

Bucky groans like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in life, and for a brief second Steve has a hilarious flashback to the night before, when Bucky had scoffed and informed him that: ‘guys in porn moaning and acting like it’s the most wonderful thing they’ve ever experienced is so stupid.’

Steve looses an unexpected laugh at that, making his hips jolt up into Bucky’s mouth and his cockhead hit the back of his throat. That does it. Steve starts coming with a grunt and he snaps, “Now!”

And thank goodness Bucky’s a quick study, because he does manage to pull off in time to get 90% of Steve’s come on his face.


After, Steve makes Bucky come again, this time with a vibrator held against the plug’s base and a fleshlight on his cock, the combined stimulation having him wailing his climax in only a few short minutes.

He gets Bucky back upstairs and into the shower, touching him continuously and giving constant praise as he washes him. Bucky needs to be gentled as he comes down from his high. Steve doesn’t want him to crash, doesn’t want him to doubt for one second that he wasn’t perfect. Bucky needs to know that; needs to know that he was everything Steve wanted, that Steve adores him, and that despite how demeaning he’d been during their play, he still cherishes Bucky like no other.

He towel-dries Bucky’s hair, getting it fluffy and messy before he takes him in his arms and makes out with him for a long moment, shoving his tongue into his mouth and taking what he wants. Bucky whines and gives no pushback at the force—still submissive even in this. “Daddy,” he breathes, then pauses, eyes flicking up to Steve’s face. “I mean…”

“Hush.” Steve pulls him against his chest and holds him there, telling him quietly that, “We’re back to normal now, baby boy. M’always gonna take care of you.” Bucky purrs and rubs against him, and Steve whispers, “Always gonna be your Daddy if you let me, Buck.”


He winds up asking Bucky to spend the night, because five minutes later when Bucky’s searching for his discarded panties and Steve is trying to talk him into sitting down for more aftercare, Bucky interrupts him to blurt out, “What the fuck is ‘aftercare’?”

Oh dear. They’ve still got a lot to cover.

Chapter Text

So I got that internship from /Capitol Sign/, Bucky says to Clint. They say they’ll take me right after graduation. It’s even paid… slightly.

Oh yeah? That’s awesome man!

Now I just have to decide if I’m gonna take it. /H.I.S./ offered an actual /position/ you know, but it’s not as good of a firm. UGH. I don’t know what to dooo. Bucky makes a sour face, as if this is a big problem.

Shut the fuck up Barnes. /Christ/, we should all have such troubles.

Bucky just shakes his head and flips to another page of the magazine he’s not really reading. He and Clint got saddled with closing shift at Books n’ Beans, which means that they aren’t where they would usually be on a Friday night—having a round of drinks at Luke’s with Natasha. But at least Fridays aren’t killer business, so they have time to goof off and talk.

Clint’s phone buzzes with a text, and he checks it lazily. Nat says we’re boring. He’s signing from over by the lounge area, where he’s appropriated one of the overstuffed armchairs, feet propped up on another. She says she’s taking us clubbing tomorrow.

Bucky looks over from where he’s leaning on the checkout counter. Repeat that, please?

I know, I know. But I swear that’s what she said. Clint shrugs. She says we need to have at least one wild night out before we graduate and become a bunch of boring old farts. That’s a direct quote.

Hm, well she’s not wrong, I guess. But I don’t know if I can do it this weekend.

Clint’s lips purse. Cause you’re going to be with Steve all weekend?

No! Bucky both says and signs defensively. Clint looks unimpressed though, and eventually Bucky has to admit, Well I don’t know for sure. I /might/ see him. Nothing wrong with that, he thinks mulishly.

But Clint makes a noise approximating disapproval. Don’t start doing that new-couple thing where you dump your best friends to hang out with your boyfriend all the time.

He’s not my boyfriend!

Mmhm. Clint looks knowingly at Bucky. I see the way you look when you’re talking about him. I can even tell when you’re /thinking/ about him. You get the dopiest look on your face.

Bucky blushes, unable to keep a smile off his face. Can’t help it, he says in the sign-equivalent of a mumble. I like him… a lot.

Clint hums. What is it about him that makes him so different from all the others. What do you two freaks get up to anyways?

Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.


Yeah. Bucky nods, but then he does sober up enough to peek up at Clint and tell him, He… he’s really nice, Clint. He takes care of me. It’s not just about the sex. At Clint’s raised eyebrow, Bucky amends, Well, it /might/ not be, if things keep going the way they are.

Clint stares at him for a long moment, looking like he’s mulling that over. Finally, he tells him, Okay. But you still haven’t known him that long, and he’s still way older than you. So be careful. His lips quirk. If he hurts you, my girlfriend is definitely going to jail for assault and possibly manslaughter, and then /I’ll/ have to kill /you/.

Bucky nods sagely. The circle of life.

Death. Circle of death. Clint points at him. Make sure you’re careful with him, dude. If he really is as fucked up as you are—


—Then I’m not crazy to worry.

Bucky doesn’t know how to argue that one, since he can totally see where Clint’s thoughts are coming from. His best friend has had to rescue him from one self-bondage snafu, after all; and one time thought he was helping when he whacked Bucky’s ‘rapist’ upside the head with a textbook (the guy had been alright in the end, and Clint had enforced a ‘no-roleplaying’ rule while he was in the house). Bucky just nods and reinforces, He’s good, I promise. I really think I might want to keep him.

Clint doesn’t say anything to that.


It’s close to closing. Bucky’s doing one last look over all the bookshelves and Clint’s walking around with the carpet sweeper. Bucky’s just finished pushing several Austen novels back into place (some motherfucker had left them all laying over in the science fiction section), when the sound of the carpet sweeper stops, and the next thing Bucky hears is a light clap. He looks over to Clint. “What?”

He just walked in.

“What?” He signs, Who— but doesn’t get to ask any more before Clint is slipping around the bookshelf and out of sight. Then Bucky hears a throat clear behind him, and he tenses, realizing what Clint was trying to announce. Bucky wishes his face didn’t split into a grin as pathetically fast as it does. He shoves Persuasion back into place and spins around.

There stands Steve, gorgeous as ever. He’s got one of his old man cardigans on, tee-shirt underneath that. Then there’s the understated gold of his watch that Bucky can see, and his shoes, and his beard, and his fucking corduroy pants… Bucky licks his lips and looks up to meet his eyes. “Professor,” he says lowly. “What can I help you with this evening?”

Steve smirks. “I just came in to buy some number two pencils.” He tilts his head. “Buuut I’m open to suggestions, if you’re in a particularly good customer service mood.” He smiles then and looks down, his eyelashes resting against his cheeks that are spreading in a blush from his own flirting.

Fuck, he’s so adorable, and that’s just such a perfect contrast from the man who not even three days ago had Bucky fucking crawling around his living room, humiliated and hard and begging for permission just to hump his leg. The sound of Steve’s turned-on voice, calling him a good boy and telling him to suck his cock, flits through Bucky’s head, and suddenly it’s too much to bear. Bucky grabs him by the front of his sweater and yanks him in for a kiss, slotting their mouths together and slipping his tongue in the first chance he gets.

Steve grunts and his hands fly to Bucky’s hips in an effort to stabilize himself and keep them both from toppling backwards into the bookshelf. “Mmf! Bucky, Bucky wait—mm, oh… mmph, hang on!” He’s laughing when he finally gains control of the situation, one hand threaded through Bucky’s hair and pulling him back from the kiss. “Wait a sec,” he huffs.

“Sorry.” Bucky’s not sorry, and his grin probably gives that away. “I couldn’t help it. You just looked so adorable.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?"

“Bookish. Shy. Professorly-nerdy.”

“That’s a look these days, huh?”

“Sure is,” Bucky murmurs, pressing his face below Steve’s jaw so he can neck at him. “And you’re rocking it.”

Steve hums, the vibration of it tangible beneath Bucky’s lips. His hand leaves Bucky’s hair so that he can hold him close at the waist. “What happened to being discreet, then?

Bucky pauses, some of his warm flirtation leeching away at the reminder that he’s supposed to be Steve’s dirty little secret, not his lover. Right. Get it together Barnes. “Sorry,” he says as he pulls back and looks Steve in the eyes. Steve doesn’t look upset, however, which makes Bucky feel a tiny bit better. “Clint lowered the shutters right after you came in,” he tells him in a meek voice. He’d heard the loud rattle of the store’s gate being pulled down, and when he looks over to check, the gate is indeed lowered most of the way, only a small gap left at the bottom. “Nobody saw,” he says.

“I know,” Steve says. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh, okay.” Bucky bites his lip to keep himself from saying any more. He takes a step back from Steve and tries to act casual as he asks, “So uh, how’ve you been?”

“Well,” Steve answers, since of course he’s a grandpa who has perfect grammar and says ‘well’ instead of ‘good’.

Bucky would roll his eyes, but for the fact that just like his fucking sweater vests, his grammar is hot. “That’s good,” he says. He starts walking away, goes over to the register to close it out.

Steve follows him and he leans against the counter as Bucky finishes. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, since Tuesday.”

Bucky’s fingers pause over the cash drawer. “You uh, you have?” He peeks up for a second to catch Steve’s face, before he goes back to counting the money. “That’s um, that’s cool. Me too. I mean, I think about you too, have, thought. Have thought about you.” He’d cringe at his bumbling words, but then Steve would see.

There’s a smile in Steve’s voice as he says, “’Yeah? Any time in particular you spend thinking about me?”

Bucky’s fingers freeze on the stack of ones he’s got in his hands and he looks up. “Um, …time?” he asks, stomach muscles tightening because the look in Steve’s eyes is basically confirming to Bucky what he thinks Steve’s asking. “You mean like… when I’m in class or…”

“No.” Steve is grinning as he shakes his head. “Not in class. When you’re alone.” He seems to notice how bright Bucky flushes, seems to be delighted by it, in fact. “So what about it, huh? Have you been thinking about me when you’re alone?”

Bucky’s lips are parted and he’s got no idea when he started gaping like a fish. Really, you’d think he’d have a better handle on this. It isn’t as though Steve hasn’t done some incredibly dirty things to him already. Being asked if he thinks of Steve when he touches himself should be child’s play. It should be. “I uh, yeah,” he stammers, mouth feeling dry. “I have. I do.”

“Tell me.”

Bucky wants to die. He wants to take Steve back to the stacks and blow him. “I… I jerk off all the time, you know? I have a high sex drive.”

Steve’s eyes darken. “Yeah, I noticed.” He leans further over the counter. “You touch yourself all the time, then?”


“Every day?”

“Yeah.” Bucky gulps. “Sometimes more.”

“Mm, you’re lucky I haven’t made a rule about that.” There’s a silent ‘yet’ somewhere in those words, and it makes Bucky’s knees feel weak. Feebly, he glances around the store to see if Clint has stuck around, but it doesn’t appear that he has, thank god.

“You wouldn’t let me?” he asks breathily. “Wouldn’t let me touch myself?”

Steve shrugs as if this is a simple matter, as if they’re discussing some grade Bucky’s earned on a paper. “It’d depend on how happy I was with you at the time; if you’d been a good boy lately.”

“I have,” Bucky says, because he fucking has. “I was a good puppy for you when I crawled around and sucked your cock, Sir. You told me so.”

Steve’s eyes look black, his pupils go so wide. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah you were, weren’t you? Is that what you think about now when you jerk off at night, hm? Being my good boy?”

Mentally, Bucky groans. “Fuck, yes Steve. Yeah I do. Every time, now. S’like I’m fucking obsessed. I just think about the way you sound, and the way you treat me, ugh. I was using my dildo the other night and I just—”

Steve stands up straight, posture stiffening. “That’s enough,” he says, his tone catching Bucky off guard. “I get the picture.”

Bucky stares, not sure what to do. “I… sorry?” For a second he thinks he’s done something wrong, but then he figures out from the tense features on Steve’s face, that he’s probably close to popping a boner. Bucky grins, sly. “Oh, I’m sorry Steve. I guess that gets you really hot, huh? Hearing that I fuck myself with all sorts of sexy toys while I’m thinking about you? That when I’m whimpering into my pillow and stuffing myself full of cock, I’m really pretending it’s you?

“Christ Bucky, shut up.”

Bucky cackles wickedly. “Don’t think I wanna. And just so you know,” he adds when Steve’s expression turns reproachful, “threatening to spank me for mouthing off isn’t very good incentive to stop.” He winks at Steve. “You give very good spankings, Daddy.”

Steve looks equal parts amused and frustrated with him, if the glint in his eye is anything to go by. Sighing, he leans across the counter and pecks Bucky on the cheek. “That’s a sweet compliment, baby boy,” he husks, making Bucky feel weak in the knees. “But you’ve got no idea what a real spanking from me feels like,” he says, and his voice is so sweet and soft and mismatched with the words themselves, that Bucky doesn’t know whether to whimper or to pop a boner of his own. Steve reaches over and tucks a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear, kisses his cheek once more, then pulls away. He smiles at him as if he’s said nothing that wouldn’t make for polite conversation. “I didn’t actually come in here looking for number two pencils,” he says.

If Bucky weren’t so turned-on and fucking gone for this man, he’d probably be able to think of some snotty quip, but as it is he just stands there and gawps at Steve’s stupidly handsome face. “Oh?”

Steve smiles. “I came to ask you if you had plans this weekend.”

Bucky continues to stare, brain fighting to remember if he indeed has plans. There was something… but he can’t think of anything besides Steve’s beard between his thighs right now, so he just shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” Steve straightens up, making to leave. “Then you’re invited to dinner at my house tomorrow.”


“Mmhm. How does six o’clock sound?”

“Good?” Bucky shakes his head, then says, “Oh! Wait I think Natasha and Clint wanted to go out maybe.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh? I see.”

“It’s graduation soon,” Bucky says.

“Ah.” Steve nods. “That’s right. Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Hm. You won’t be a student anymore, will you?”

“Um …no.”

Steve’s lips quirk. “So you’d be fair game then, for a relationship?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, he’s sure. “A re—relationship?” His heart soars and all he can think is that he has to try hard not to let it show on his face, how much he likes the sound of that. Because yeah, Steve’s the one who brought it up, but he’s still standing there on the other side of the counter, looking composed and not like he’s about to blow a gasket at the thought of having a relationship. Bucky swallows and nods, saying, “Yeah. Yeah I guess so.”

Steve’s smile is infuriatingly calm. “Hm. Well, if you have plans then we’ll just find another time to—”


Steve’s eyes widen at Bucky’s yelp, but then he smiles at him. “‘No’?”

“I mean, uh,” Bucky blushes from how obviously overeager he is to be with Steve. Fuck. “Let me just check and see,” he says. “I mean if we’re going out clubbing then Nat won’t want to leave until late, probably. So I could still do dinner.” He fixes his eyes on Steve. “And, you know, have time for whatever else.”

Steve smirks. “Sure thing Buck,” he says, and god damn him for being able to act so unaffected. “You just let me know.” He tucks his hands into his pockets and makes for the exit, managing to duck under the gate in a manner that looks entirely graceful.

Bucky is left to just stare, body thrumming hot with blood and his thoughts going a mile a minute.

…Then Clint appears from the shadows, scaring the everlovingshit out of him, and he says, Wow.

What the fuck, Clint?!

Hey, you were the one who assumed I was gone. He shrugs unapologetically. And I gotta tell you, for once in my life I’m glad I can’t read lips. I don’t even want to imagine the filth that just went on between you two.

Well… yeah. Bucky gives a sheepish shit-eating grin.

For the rest of closing, Clint gives him his space, and Bucky can’t stop fantasizing about Steve; watching him fuck himself silly on his big jelly dildo…

He might mess up the register count that night, but who the fuck even cares?


Bucky spends most of Saturday afternoon lounging around in his room, writing serious fanfiction porn and trying to decide what to wear clubbing. He also has to figure out what to wear to Steve’s for dinner, but that’s not nearly as complicated. He figures plain old jeans and a tee will do. It’s not like he’ll be wearing them long anyway. Bucky snickers as he thinks of that, setting aside what he’s picked out and grabbing his phone to shoot a text to Steve.

wht time 4 dinner?

Professor Hottie: I thought you had plans.

psh not till like 10. Besides dont old ppl like u eat dinner at like 4?

Professor Hottie: Hardy har. Be here at five, smart ass. …Bring your dildo.

Bucky grins like a maniac and chucks his phone aside to start getting ready.


Bucky gets to Steve’s house with five minutes to spare, messenger bag in tow just because he can’t go around carrying a dildo in his hand (well technically he could, but even he’s not that much of an attention whore). When Steve opens the door and guides Bucky into the dining room to sit, Bucky is a little taken aback. There’s a tablecloth, and lots of plates and too many silverware. There is a wine bucket and freaking like, fancy-folded cloth napkins. There are napkin rings, and Bucky gapes. “I thought you meant, like, pizza or something,” he says, sitting obediently when Steve pulls his chair out for him.

“Oh no. When I say dinner, I mean dinner.” Steve winks at Bucky in a way that is way more endearing than it should be. “I’m a real foodie.”

“Oh?” Bucky eyes Steve’s body. “Wouldn’t know it from looking at you.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah, my ma always said I had a hollow leg.”

Bucky thinks that’s so cute. Aw, ‘ma’. He wonders privately if Steve is from the Midwest, or something. “So what’d you make?” he asks. “Whatever it is smells amazing.”

“Oh hey now, don’t get carried away,” Steve says. He’s sitting down across the narrow table from Bucky, sliding his chair into place and putting his napkin on his lap. “I said I could eat, not cook.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Huh?” Steve seems like he’s going to open his mouth to answer, but before he can, there’s a light knock on the doors leading in from the kitchen, and then someone’s pushing through with a tray of steaming food. Bucky’s eyes widen. “Oh, wow.” It’s a server—or at least, someone dressed up like a sever. Maybe a fancy one from one of those high-end restaurants that probably don’t exist in real life but are always in movies. The man who comes in is old. Not the type of creaky, feeble old that would make Bucky feel bad for being waited on by him—like Batman’s butler, Alfred; but old enough to be Bucky’s father, for sure (he resolutely ignores the fact that Steve himself teeechnically falls into said category as well). Whatever, he thinks. Steve would never be dumb enough to knock someone up at sixteen anyway. Stop it! Bucky shakes his head to get the thoughts to stop, and then the butler guy is finishing placing a plate in front of Steve and he comes to Bucky’s side of the table and presents him with his. Bucky looks down and sees that it’s some sort of soup, a white glob floating on top of creamy green. He gulps. “Um, thanks?”

“You’re quite welcome, Sir.” The man steps back and looks to Steve. Steve gives him a nod which apparently means he can leave the room, because he does. “Main course shortly, Sirs,” he says on his way out.

Once the doors to the kitchen have swung shut again, Bucky looks at Steve incredulously. “What the actual fuck?”

Steve’s lips twist. “What?”

“’You had this planned?” Bucky astounds. His eyes flick from Steve, to his soup bowl, to the kitchen doors and then back to Steve. “You’re not proposing are you?”

Steve blushes at the joke and fiddles with his spoon. “No, Buck. Jesus.” He laughs, embarrassed.

“Because this is what people do when they propose, Steve,” Bucky tells him. Cautiously, he picks up his soup spoon and dips it, bringing some of the green stuff to his face. He tastes it and …it’s not awful. “What is this?” he asks.

Steve looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile as he answers, “If you’re referring to the soup, I believe it’s asparagus. As to the rest, it’s just dinner, Buck.” He meets his eyes over the table, earnest. “I’m sorry if you feel overwhelmed.”

Bucky huffs. “Well, no. I don’t feel overwhelmed it’s just…” He glances down at himself, hastily remembering to shove his own napkin in his lap like a civilized human being. “I dunno. I mean I just came over here expecting to…” He looks up, sees Steve waiting for him to finish what he’s saying, and quickly changes from his planned, “get fucked," to a way less crass, “…eat pizza.” He shrugs. “I wore my Iron Man tee shirt,” he says lamely. When Steve snorts, Bucky feels like he has to defend, “Well if I’d known you were going to have freaking hired waitstaff—”

“Calm down,” Steve tells him, laughing at him and shaking his head. “It’s fine. I don’t care what you’re wearing.”

“Well good.” Bucky grunts, then sits back and reconsiders the table setting. “Why are we, uh, doing this?”

Steve shrugs. “This is how I eat when I have guests over.”

Bucky stares. “What?” When Steve doesn’t say anything, Bucky squints. “Every time you have guests over? Like… anybody?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Phillip’s on staff.”

“You have a staff? How the hell rich are you?”

Steve pauses in what might be shock at the bluntness of the question, but before Bucky can start to freak out that he’s really offended Steve, he starts to laugh. “Don’t get worked up. I’m not that rich.”

“Says the teacher with a Bugatti in the driveway,” Bucky counters. Really, he doesn’t give a good goddamn how rich Steve is, but there are a handful of pieces now that are starting to fit together. He tilts his head at Steve, smirking. “…You’re a filthy rich intellectual who’s got a daddy kink, aren’t you?” He sits back in his chair, delighted. “And I’m like… your Julia Roberts.”

Steve snorts. “Hardly. I picked you up on a college campus, not Hollywood Boulevard.” He stands up and grabs the bottle of wine that’s been chilling, pulling the cork and tilting it to fill Bucky’s glass. “Pretty boy,” he teases as he pours.

Bucky keeps his eyes locked on Steve’s until he’s filled both their glasses and is sitting back. “Hm,” he thinks, because he’s not one to let something like this go. “I dunno, Steve. This is all pretty fancy.”

“I’ll remember not to do it again,” Steve drawls. “But if you can forgive me just this once, we’ll have a nice dinner.”

Bucky shrugs. “Eh, I’ll let it pass.” Carefully, he picks up his wine glass and brings it to his face. He swirls it and sniffs with what he hopes is a snotty expression. “Hm, I believe I detect subtle notes of… alcohol.”

“Christ. I’m not going to be able to take you anywhere, am I?”

Bucky tenses. “Eh, probably not.” He peeks up. “Why, did you want to take me places?”

“Maybe.” Steve nods. His eyes still hold warmth but his voice has sobered as he tells him, “I might want to take you places, if we keep seeing each other.”

“Thought we agreed I was just gonna keep coming over to get dicked,” Bucky says blithely, before sipping at his wine. He gets a little enjoyment out of the way that Steve chokes on his next spoonful of soup.

Jesus, Bucky.”

“It’s what we agreed to.”

Steve sighs. “Tacitly, yes. But like I said yesterday; since you’re about to graduate—"

“Then ‘I’m fair game for a relationship’,” Bucky parrots before Steve can.


Bucky fights hard not to squirm in his seat. “So… you uh, you want that? Want to be like, boyfriends?” He feels so weird saying it aloud to Steve, the words feeling as unnatural in his mouth as him calling Steve ‘Baby boy’ would.

“Yes. I’d like to make it an option, leastways.” Steve shrugs. “We’ve just started seeing each other, but I’d say we’ve um, clicked.” He smirks. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” Bucky’s mind is reeling. Steve wants to be his boyfriend. Steve wants to be his boyfriend.

“And since you were curious about the whole twenty-four seven idea, well. I thought I’d break the ice and let you know that if or when you’re ready, we can try that.”

What the fuuuck? Bucky sits there at the table in what he hopes is a calm, composed fashion, but on the inside he is flailing. Because his first reaction is to celebrate but then his second is to panic. Twenty-four seven?! he thinks, equal parts turned on and terrified by the idea. Being Steve’s all the time? Doing things with him and for him and… following rules and orders? Getting punished, or… or disciplined, on a regular basis? Bucky gulps, eyes flicking up to Steve. “Yeah?” he says. “You want to?”

Steve smiles kindly at him, like maybe he can see right into him and read his thoughts like they’re printed in large typeface. “I’m not running out to get a legally-binding contract notarized, Bucky. I’m just saying it’s an option. I wasn’t sure if you understood that it was, with me.” He tilts his head. “I’ve been enjoying you and I won’t mind keeping you around. I just wanted you to know.”

Oh wow. that last part kind of makes a bunch of butterflies swoop in and sweep most of the terrified half of Bucky’s reaction away. He’s left with a jittery sort of smile to give Steve from over the table. “I uh, I dunno. I guess I’d like it. I’ve never done that.”

“And we don’t have to,” Steve interrupts. “I’m not trying to put this on you, Buck.”

“I know. I know you aren’t. But…” Bucky inhales, then lets it out in a long breath as he thinks that, fuck it, why does it have to feel like a crazy thing, to want this? If it’s safe, sane, consensual and Steve, then he’s allowed to want it. He’s allowed to have it to, if he decides. “Lemme think about it, okay?” he says, not because that’s really what he wants to say, but because he’s pretty sure that’s what he should say. Any grown-ass adult being treated to an in-home catered dinner by their Daddy Dom, being propositioned with an offer of a twenty-four seven arrangement, should have the wherewithal to hold off, shouldn’t they? Bucky can be an adult. He can force himself to swallow down the big, fat irresponsible ‘YES!’ that he wants to give, in favor of a ‘let’s see’. “I’ll let you know.”

Steve smiles at him in the same way he had been doing before, no more or less enthused. Hell, if anything, he looks proud of Bucky for being so level-headed about it, and Bucky decides to preen over that fact. “Okay Buck. That’s good.”

Bucky smiles, feeling more at ease. “Kay.”

The doors to the kitchen open, and this time Alfred Phillip is coming in with a tray of two dinner plates. They’ve got those fancy silver lid things on them, so it isn’t until they’re set on the table and Phillip is pulling the lids off that Bucky can see what it is they’re eating. His eyes probably go about as wide as the dinner plates and he looks at Steve incredulously. “Okay, rich or not, this’s just fucking over the top.” He narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to butter me up.”

Steve laughs out loud. “The butter’s for the lobster, you little brat. Now stop complaining and eat your food.”

Bucky beams, unable to disobey that command, even though he wouldn’t mind hearing Steve call him ‘brat’ a few more times. Oh well, he thinks. There’s always dessert.


Dessert winds up being a much-too-small portion of tiramisu. Bucky eats all of his and half of Steve’s, and then they go into the living room and curl up on the couch together with their second (Bucky’s third) glass of wine. Bucky’s got his cheek propped on Steve’s shoulder as Steve tells him more about how he grew up between an estate in Boston and a penthouse in Central Park West.

“So you make peanuts teaching what you love, and your dad was in business with StarkTech, and that’s how you’re so rich,” Bucky summarizes.

Steve’s nod makes his shoulder move under Bucky’s cheek. “Yeah. They were good friends, too though. I still see Howard’s son Tony from time to time. He invites me to a lot of his galas.”

Bucky peeks up at Steve. “You were born with a little, silver spoon in your mouth, weren’t you?”

“You teasing me?” Steve asks, eyebrow raised. “Because I have a particular punishment I give to boys who think it’s their place to tease me.”

Bucky absolutely squirms in delight. “What?”

“Tickles,” Steve says. That’s all he needs to say too, because Bucky shuts right the fuck up and goes back to drinking his wine. Steve laughs at his abrupt change in attitude. “Thought so,” he says smugly. He wraps his arm tighter around Bucky’s side and holds him close. “Anyways, I invested all my inheritance when I came down here to teach.” He shrugs. “It’s percolating in somebody’s vault, supposedly getting bigger. The last big purchase I made was my car, which you’ve seen.” Bucky makes an acknowledging noise against the rim of his glass. “And I’m happy teaching culturally-starved ignoramuses like you all about art,” he says, poking Bucky’s shoulder for emphasis.

Bucky snorts. “Steve, do you honestly think I was learning anything in your lectures? I had to sleep with you before I was even able to learn the sign for ‘hieroglyphic’.”

“That’s pathetic.”

“I know!” Bucky laughs, enjoying the way that Steve laughs along with him. He’s contented, he realizes. He’s happy here on Steve’s couch, in Steve’s arms, fake-fireplace on and his belly warm and full from wine and too much food. He sighs, leaning more fully into Steve’s side—because Steve’s built like a brick shithouse and Bucky can. It’s nice, Bucky thinks (and certainly not for the first time), to have someone strong and big to lean up against. Bucky feels safe in Steve’s arms, like he can let himself go in more than just a sexual way. When he spends time with Steve, he considers, he doesn’t want to have to make decisions. He wants Steve to do it. And isn’t it grand that Steve has offered to do just that?

Bucky’s working on polishing off his drink as Steve cuddles him and tells him about his past as a dominant. “I’ve had several subs,” he says, visibly counting in his head before he corrects, “Well, eight, actually.”

Bucky tucks himself further in against Steve’s side, feeling shy. “Eight?” He’s played plenty, but he’s only ever had real kink relationships with two people—Brock and Gavin. Neither had worked out particularly well. “Wow, that’s a lot.”

“Don’t you think that’s a good thing?” Steve asks gently, hand combing through his hair. “I mean I know you were ready to get off on the fact that you thought I was some innocent professor”—Bucky makes a noise of protest at that, but Steve just shushes him—“Yeah, I know about that, Buck. You think I didn’t have you figured out?” Bucky just whimpers, and Steve chuckles and tells him, “If you’re going to allow someone to dominate you, it should be someone who knows what they’re doing. And I do know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, feeling like a little kid searching for reassurance. He scrubs his cheek against the soft weave of Steve’s sweater.


“Tell me?”

Steve hums and kisses his hair. “Sure thing, baby. Let me see… I was in college the first time I got into all this.” He says all this like it’s something exasperating, which is funny and makes Bucky smile. “I wound up dating a guy who knew way more about anything and everything than I did, but he taught me pretty quickly.”

“You subbed for him?” Bucky asks incredulously.

“No. Shh. I’m talking.” Steve’s pinch is ineffectual, and he continues, “He subbed for me, but I was the one doing all the learning. We were together for a couple of years, but lost touch after graduation.”


“After that I was with a handful of people for a year or just over, just under. …Then there was my last sub.”

Bucky tenses, or at least he does mentally. He tries to remain relaxed and soft in Steve’s arms so that it isn’t obvious how intently he’s listening to this part. Steve’s voice had sounded sad, just now, when he’d broached the subject of his most recent relationship. “…Tell me about him?” he asks gently.

Steve hums. “Of course. Well it was a she, for one.”

Bucky makes a face where Steve can’t see. “Blech.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Steve admonishes, though his tone is soft. “You know I’m bi. Anyway, I met her on campus. She was—is—a grad student here.” He pauses, and Bucky can tell he’s working up to something, then he says, “She’s uh, well she’s one of my grad students.”

Bucky pulls back, shocked. “What?!” He had not been expecting that, and he doesn’t like it. Jealousy is instantly burning in his gut, stronger for the fact that he’s had three glasses of wine, now. “Steve,” he scolds. “You’re an unethical bastard!”

Steve just rolls his eyes and tugs Bucky back in against his side. “Hush,” he says. “It’s no worse than what we’re doing.”

“She’s your grad student!” Bucky huffs. He’s not pulling away again though. He lets Steve hold him as he complains, “You’re giving her a grade, not me.”

“Yeah and I’m also not sleeping with her. We broke up before she even got involved in the art department.”

Bucky relaxes, if only marginally. “…Oh?”

“Mmhm.” Steve kisses his hair again, as if in apology. “She switched majors. Forensic psychology to art history.”

“Pretty weird change,” Bucky scoffs.

“I never taught her in undergrad. She’s under my oversight for her masters, but like I said; she and I were finished long before that started.”

Bucky chews his lip as he thinks that over. He’ll never admit that he’s jealous at the thought that Steve has regular contact with one of his previous subs, but he is. “You really aren’t involved anymore?”

Steve shakes his head, the movement felt through where Bucky’s leaning on him. “No, baby. We broke up. Amicably, but still.”

“Why? Bucky asks. “Why did you?”

Steve sighs. “She…” he pauses, then says, “this is very personal to her, I trust you know this can’t—”

“I’m not going to blab, Steve,” Bucky says, annoyed and, okay, maybe a little bit hurt that Steve’s felt the need to warn him.

“We broke up after she was assaulted,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky feels his guts go cold, and after a minute of silence spent processing this, he asks, “You mean, raped?”


“You… I don’t understand. You didn’t want to be with her, or…”

“Jesus Bucky, no. It wasn’t like that.” Steve huffs. “She was messed up after it happened. Obviously I didn’t blame her. We tried to work through it. At first I thought keeping things vanilla would be best, but she didn’t want that. And then she started to want completely different things than she’d wanted before the rape.”

“Like… what?” Bucky is morbidly curious.

“Rough things. Mean. Things I’m not uncomfortable with, on principal, but with her it just felt wrong. I could see she was using our sex to… hurt herself, in a way. When I confronted her about it she just got mad.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “That’s… oh.”

“Yeah. We tried to stick it out a while longer. She developed an eating disorder and I was stupid enough that I thought I could Dom it out of her. But of course not.” He sighs. “I’m the one who broke it off.”

“Shit, Steve,” Bucky says, because he doesn’t know what else there is to say. “That’s really awful.”

“Was worse for her,” Steve says. “Breaking up was the right thing to do, in the end. She went and found counseling after that. She got help independently. And that’s what she needed. Now we’re just friends.” Steve chuckles. “She’s actually dating my best friend—Sam.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raise where Steve can’t see. “Oh. Wow.”

“Huh, yeah. It’s…” Steve huffs. “Well I’m happy for them both. I just don’t like to imagine what goes on in the bedroom between them. I mean I just… yikes, you know?”

Bucky thinks he gets what Steve’s saying. It’s one thing to know your platonic friends have sex in a general sense, but it’s crazy-unnecessary to know details about it. Bucky thinks about how he once found out that Nat and Clint liked to watch angry lesbian porn together (Ew), and how he’d spent a long while recovering from that revelation. Against Steve’s side, he shivers in sympathy. “Yeah, I get it,” he says.

Steve’s hand that’s been on his arm slides up, and he starts petting the skin of Bucky’s neck gently, rubbing his thumb just behind his ear. Bucky makes a pleased noise and bends his head to encourage it, making Steve hum in approval. “You’re so easy, you know that?”

“Mm, you tell me that a lot,” Bucky says. His eyes are closed as he focuses on the pleasant sensation Steve’s giving him. “I know you mean more than sexually, but I’m not sure how.”

“Oh, sexually for sure,” Steve says, amused and maybe fond. “But also in a general sub way. You go soft for me so easily.”

“Mm, what’s soft?” Bucky asks.

“It’s this—when you’re just relaxed and receptive for whatever I want to do; the way you focus on touch and get zoned out to everything else.”

“That’s subspace.”

“Mm, not always. It’s also a personality thing,” Steve tells him. “I’ve been noticing it. It’s what’s made me think you might really like the whole 24/7 thing. It’s a lot about service, and I think you’ll really respond well to that.”

Bucky blushes. “Jeeze, Steve. Respond? You make me sound like some Pavlovian dog.”

Steve laughs and palms his neck, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Sort of.”

“Yeah we both know you’re into that,” Bucky grumbles. “But Steve, I really don’t get how cleaning your house and being told what to do all the time’s gonna get me off.” That’s just not him, and he’s not sure that Steve knows that. But Steve surprises him by saying,

“Not all twenty-four seven arrangements are like that. A lot are, so I can’t blame you for the assumption, but I’m not into the whole Master/slave dynamic, so I think you’ll find that whatever we agree on, the wording will be pretty different from any contracts you read online.”

Bucky swallows, back to feeling like he’s jumping into the deep end with Steve. He feels like he needs a floatie, and it’s downright embarrassing, since he’s always considered himself such a big, bad kinkster. “So there is going to be a contract?” he checks.

“Oh yeah,” Steve confirms. “It’s definitely important.”


Steve is silent for a moment, and then he says gently, “Because, baby, contracts keep you safe. They’re not to control or trap you—they can’t do that. But they can make sure we get started on the right footing.”


“By establishing clear rules. Boundaries, limits, expectations. A contract’ll give us guidelines, and it’ll help establish my authority over you, which is a big part of the whole arrangement. It sets the tone, and it makes sure we’re both aiming for what we need in the relationship.”

Bucky thinks about that, then says, “Sounds like regular couples could use contracts, too.”

Steve laughs and hugs him tighter at that. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He kisses the top of his head. “It’s good for communication, that’s for sure. And I intend to have very good communication with you, Buck.” Quietly, he adds. “I want this to go right.”

Bucky’s guts squirm in a pleasant way at hearing that. He doesn’t quite know what to say, so he opts not to say anything. He just rests against Steve’s side and feels his chest rise and fall with his breaths as he sips the rest of his wine and runs his fingers lazily over Bucky’s neck. It’s a nice setup, leaving Bucky feeling a bit like a pampered cat. And yeah, he thinks Steve might be able to coax him further into that pet kink he has, if this is one of the ways Bucky’ll get treated from it. He closes his eyes and rubs his face against Steve’s sweater, and loses track of the time…

…“Hey, did you fall asleep?”

Bucky blinks, grunting and shaking his head against Steve’s chest. “No,” he complains, though it’s obviously a lie.

Steve just chuckles. “‘Course not.”

Bucky can tell from the way he feels that he’d only nodded off for a moment. Outside the living room windows, it’s not quite dark yet. They still have time to play. Thinking about that, Bucky squirms up against Steve’s side, pressing his face into his neck so that he can kiss him there. “Daddy,” he says, making his voice high and sweet—he feels Steve’s fingers tighten on his side. “When are we gonna play?”

“You want to play, baby boy?”


Steve rumbles something approving in his chest at that. “Me too. Did you bring your toy with you?”

Bucky blushes. “Oh, yeah. S’in my bag.”

“Why don’t you go get it. We can go up to my room.”

Bucky nods. “You only like to fuck up there, huh?”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Not as a rule, no. But it’s where I can make you most comfortable.”

“And what if I don’t want to be comfortable?” Bucky teases.

Steve growls and grabs a hold of him, tugging him into his lap. Bucky goes with an adorable undignified squeal. Steve’s kissing him before he knows it, then nipping his lip as he pulls back. “S’also where I’ve got all my fun things to take you apart, baby,” he says.

Bucky melts against his front. “I like that,” he says. “So much.”

“Mm, I know you do. And I think you’re going to like what I have planned for you tonight very much.”

Bucky’s eyes light up. “There’s a plan?”

“Of course.” Steve is smiling at him like he’s a sweet, dumb thing (which is quickly becoming one of Bucky’s favorite ways to be looked at). “I told you, Buck: I think about you a lot. I’ve imagined tons of ways to make you struggle for me, already.”

Oh, but that gets Bucky hot. His eyes drop closed and he maybe moans out loud to match the way he does in his head. “Wanna struggle for you,” he says. “Want to be your good boy.”

Steve’s hands take his jaw and pull him in for a slow, hot kiss, one that broadcasts Steve’s every intention and makes Bucky feel utterly owned. He groans, his toes curling in his socks and arousal thrumming low in his belly. When Steve releases him, his eyes have gone a lot darker. “Come on,” he says quietly. “Get up. Let’s go. Grab your bag and bring it, since I know what’s in there.”


In Steve’s room, the lights get dimmed to what Bucky is quickly coming to think of as ‘sex level’. It’s the only way the lights ever need to be, in his opinion. He strips completely without having to be told, flinging his clothes haphazardly to the side.

Steve watches him with an amused look on his face. “Eager beaver, huh?”

“Course.” Bucky’s about to get up on the bed, but Steve’s hands appear on his hips, holding him from behind.

“Hang on there, sweet thing.” He kisses his shoulder and puts his lips to Bucky’s ear. “I let this go the last time, but you need to learn.”

Bucky shivers. “What?” he can learn. He can. He can be Steve’s best student.

“Your clothes. Look at that messy pile you just made.”

Bucky’s eyes shoot over, and yeah. He bites his lip and smiles where Steve can’t see. If he only knew how messy Bucky is at home. “Not allowed?” he asks.

“Mm mn. Not allowed at all.” Steve bites playfully at the meat of Bucky’s shoulder, his hands squeezing his waist. “You want to correct that mistake?”

Eh, not particularly, Bucky thinks but doesn’t say. He has a feeling that wouldn’t advance him very far in getting what he wants. So he says, “Okay.”

Steve gives him a pat on the butt to get him going. “Good boy.”

Bucky picks each item of clothing up and folds it, stacking them on Steve’s dresser. The whole time he’s doing it, he can feel Steve’s eyes on him and it makes him feel self-conscious. Not in a bad way, but it makes him very aware of his folding and how it probably definitely isn’t up to Steve’s standards. Steve’s so neat and clean and cultured, and Bucky’s sloppy room is basically a metaphor for his whole approach to life. It works for him, but as he’s folding his underwear—underwear! He’s never folded underwear in his entire fucking life!—and setting them on top of the stack, he thinks that he wants to be good for Steve. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about folded clothes (and no amount of subbing is going to change that), but having Steve kiss him and rumble endearments and approval into his skin makes Bucky think that maybe Steve was right; maybe he has a service kink after all. Huh.

“Finished,” he nearly whispers when he’s got it all done and has turned back to Steve.

Steve smiles approvingly. “Good boy.” He points at his feet. “C’mere.”

Bucky remembers the rule. He goes over and stands right in front of Steve, and then without taking his eyes away from Steve’s, he sinks gracefully to his knees. Steve looks very pleased at that, and Bucky preens.

“You ready to play?”


Steve hums, and Bucky watches with hungry eyes as he starts undressing. He doesn’t make a show of it, but it’s still a treat to get to kneel on the floor and watch as Steve’s magnificent body is revealed, layer by layer. Steve’s sweater comes off and Bucky dares to ask, “Why do you dress like that?”

Steve pauses, fingers at the hem of his tee. “Like what?”

“Like, dorky,” Bucky says. “Fuddy-duddy.”

Steve’s lips twist and he goes on with pulling his tee shirt over his head, all the muscles of his torso rippling beautifully as he does. He turns his back to Bucky, using the bed to fold his things up. “Baby, I cannot believe you just said that,” he murmurs.

“Just curious.”

Steve laughs. “Oh Buck. I love your big mouth, you know that?”

Bucky grins, very pleased. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Steve has turned back around. Bucky’s mouth waters at the sight of him. At his abs and his pecs, the hair on his chest and the line of it that disappears into the top of his pants. Steve is smiling down at him fondly. “It makes it all the more fun when I get to hear your useless whimpers behind whatever I’ve gagged you with,” he says sweetly, and Bucky sighs.


“Yeah. Or when you just get so sweet that you lose your words all on your own.”

Bucky nods, enthusiastic. “Yeah, I do that.” Steve reaches for his belt, undoing it and pulling it from the loops, and once he’s got it doubled over in his hands like a strap, Bucky feel saliva pool in his mouth. “Fuck,” he says. He’s staring at Steve’s forearms. They’re all strong and lean-muscled, blond hair dusting them and veins visible. His fingers are thick but long in that way that makes them look like artists fingers. And the belt in his hands, fuck. Bucky wants Steve more than he thinks he ever has before. “Daddy,” he breathes, and he hadn’t even planned to call him that, it just came out. “Daddy please.”

Steve smirks. “You mentioned this.” He waggles the folded over length of leather in his hand. “Said it gets you hot.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breaths. “Yeah it does.”

Steve chuckles. “You also said you’re a big old wuss about it. Can’t take too much.”

Bucky feels like he pouts. “M'sorry,” he says. “It hurts.”

Steve frowns lightly. He sets the belt aside and pats his thigh. “Come here,” he says softly, “right here.” Bucky shuffles forwards and presses his face against Steve’s thigh, right where his hand had been. Steve hums in approval and cards that hand through his hair and asks him, “Who’s hit you with a belt before? Brock?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Gavin.”

“I see. Did he stand near you or far away, when he hit you?”

“…Far away I guess.”

“Did he go fast or slow?”

“Fast.” Steve’s sigh is long and drawn out, and it makes Bucky glance up. Steve’s features are screwed up. “What?” Bucky asks.

“Do you want to…” Steve pauses, then changes tactics, saying, “I’d like to discipline you, Bucky. Before we do what I had planned.”

Bucky swallows, nervous. “You want to hit me with the belt?”

“Yes. A little. Let’s say six times.” Steve tips his chin up to make Bucky look at him. “Can you take that?”

“I—” Bucky shivers, dread and arousal warring in his gut. The idea of it gets him hot for sure. His eyes slide over to where Steve has laid the belt on the bed. He licks his lips. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yes. I can take it.”

Steve is watching him closely. “Want to give me a color?”

Oh. Bucky’s eyes widen. “Green, Steve,” he says. “I promise.”

Steve smiles softly. “Okay, good. Get up here and lean over the bed.”

Bucky gets to his feet, belly flipping pleasantly as he presses his front half into the bed and looks over his shoulder as Steve picks the belt up. Once again, the sight of him holding it is pretty much a work of art, and Bucky tells him so. “God, I’d like to just take a picture of you like this.” Steve raises an eyebrow, and Bucky hurries to add, “Just of your arm and your hand, you know? Holding the belt.” He smirks. “Maybe in black and white. I could frame it and hang it in my room.”

Steve snorts. “S’that so?”

“Mmhm.” Bucky closes his eyes and wiggles his face into the soft comforter as he thinks about it. “I could look at it every time I jerk off.”


Bucky cries out, breath leaving him completely at the shock of being hit when he wasn’t expecting it. He looks back at Steve. “Oh my god!” he huffs.

Steve is watching him carefully. “How’d that feel?”

“Fucking awful!” Bucky squirms in place, biting his lip and feeling the quickly-fading pain that the belt had lashed into his skin. Steve had hit him right in the middle of his ass, both cheeks. There’s warmth gathering in Bucky’s face as he shyly admits, “It’s… not like I remember.”

“Oh?” Steve sounds unsurprised. “How so?”

Bucky shuffles from foot to foot, trying to make the ache come back. “I… I liked it,” he says in a near whisper, as if saying the words quietly is a way to test them out.

“What was that?” Steve swats him again. “Speak up, Buck.”

Bucky hisses a curse and shouts, “I like it!”, ass back to heated and throbbing. Fuck, it’s not like getting spanked by Steve’s hand, not at all.

“A few more then,” Steve says, and he whacks Bucky again. He waits a good ten seconds before the next strike, and again before the next. It hurts, but not nearly badly enough that Bucky can’t keep count. He knows exactly when Steve has landed the sixth strike. Steve’s weight appears on the bed then, and when Bucky opens his eyes he sees that Steve is sitting right next to him. He pets his hand through Bucky’s hair. “I think your old boyfriend went too hard on you, Buck. When I give a strapping, I stand fairly close so that the hits connect better and a lot of the force can come back into my arm. It hurts less that way.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“And it’s not something to rush, especially if it’s punishment.” Steve is quiet a moment longer, but then he leans away and Bucky hears him setting the belt aside on the nightstand. “We can experiment with that another time,” he says, and it’s so weird how Bucky feels almost disappointed. He’d liked the way Steve had hit him.

“Promise?” he asks.

“I promise,” Steve says, smile audible in his voice. He pats the bed and says, “Come on now, get all the way up here. Lay on your back. I’m going to get everything we need.”

Bucky hurries to comply, eager to find out what it is Steve’s been planning for him. When he flips onto his back, there’s no lingering pain from the handful of swats he’d taken from the belt. He wiggles a little to try and rekindle the ache, but it doesn’t come. Lips twisting, Bucky thinks that he might have to request a more thorough beating soon, to find out just how not-awful Steve’s belt can be. He grins up at the ceiling at the thought of it.

Chapter Text

Bucky hurries to comply, eager to find out what it is Steve’s been planning for him. When he flips onto his back, there’s no lingering pain from the handful of swats he’d taken from the belt. He wiggles a little to try and rekindle the ache, but it doesn’t come. Lips twisting, Bucky thinks that he might have to request a more thorough beating soon, to find out just how not-awful Steve’s belt can be. He grins up at the ceiling at the thought of it.

“What’re you grinning for?” Steve asks playfully as he returns.

Bucky’s instantly propping up on his elbows to see what he’s brought over. He catalogues the items, and for the first time that night, he feels the first inkling of that way he gets during any sort of really good powerplay. It’s like a slow drip starting up in his brain; viscous and good like honey. If things go right, he’ll be floating in it before long. “Sounding?” Bucky asks, because he may not have ever done it, but he’s seen enough porn to know exactly what the box with neat little rows of rods is for.

“Yeah.” Steve climbs up on the bed. He’s brought over restraints as well, and nipple clamps and Bucky’s dildo that he brought from home. Steve sits cross-legged near Bucky and runs a calming hand over his thigh. He’s fully naked now, and Bucky’s eyes slide distractedly over the muscles of his legs, his half-hard cock where it rests against his thigh. “You okay with trying?” Steve asks gently. “You’d said you were very interested in it.”

Bucky nods quickly, because yeah he is. He’s nervous about it, too, but doesn’t say so because he doesn’t want Steve to think he isn’t one hundred percent on board. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah I wanna.”

“Okay, good.” Steve taps at his inner thighs. “’Spread ‘em.”

Bucky’s cock jerks at the command because he knows exactly what Steve’s going to do to keep his legs forced apart. There’s a spreader bar with leather cuffs on the end, and it’s designed for just above the knees, Bucky can tell. “Fuck,” he murmurs lightly as he watches Steve get to work buckling one thigh in, and then the other. Bucky tests it with his legs, trying to push them together and completely unable to. The feeling is utterly delicious. “Oh,” he breathes, “Sometimes I swear I forget how much I love being tied up,” he says.

Steve groans, one of his big hands grabbing Bucky’s inner thigh muscle and squeezing harshly. “Yeah?” he asks. “Well then I guess you’re going to love this.” He tucks Bucky’s left hand against his bound thigh and buckles the smaller loop that’s for his wrists shut. He does the same with his right wrist. “There you go. Now you’re good and restrained.”

Bucky’s cock has gotten fully hard, and for the first time he’s kind of more focused on that than on anything else that’s going on around him. He can’t ignore it. His hips want to thrust up, but there’s nothing to rub up on. He’s just stuck there, legs forced apart and wrists bound to his thighs. He feels like a bug, pinned down and exposed for Steve’s scrutiny. Fuck, it feels so good. “Steve,” he says, plaintive. “Touch me?”

Steve hums and bends down to kiss him. Bucky’s got no leverage, so he can only lay there and take it as Steve presses his lips against his gently, tilting his head to deepen it a little as he works their mouths together. Bucky whimpers into it, loving the soft press of Steve’s lips, the tender, coaxing way he deepens it; tasting Bucky like he’s something sweet, something to be savored. Bucky thrills at the first chance he gets to dip into Steve with his tongue. When Steve pulls back, Bucky’s left aching for more. “Please,” he breathes again, “Please.”

Steve is smiling down at him indulgently. “I might have to exercise some limits on begging for you, baby boy. Half the time I don’t even think you know what you’re asking for.”

I fucking don’t, Bucky thinks, silently agreeing. He licks his lips, trying to process how to tell Steve what he wants now. He wants an orgasm, he knows that much. Wants Steve to touch him and make him feel good, make the ache in his cock go away. Weakly, Bucky squirms against his bonds, the reassuring hold of them enough to ground him. “Want you to fill my mouth,” he says, "want your tongue.” Your cock, your fingers, whatever.

Steve just chuckles and sits further back, the bastard. “Can’t kiss you all night, sweet boy. We won’t get anywhere.”

Bucky whines, but it’s ineffectual. He calms down as Steve starts moving around, sitting himself between Bucky’s legs and pulling until he has Bucky basically in his lap. He brings the nipple clamps into view, smirking at Bucky before focusing on the task of pinching his nipples to hardness, then applying one, and then the other clamp. Bucky bites his lip as he endures the slight pain. He’s never minded this—the pinch of a good pair of clamps on his chest. In certain situations it’s pleasantly distracting, in others, tormentingly-so. As it is, Steve hasn’t given him much of a challenge; they’re tweezer-style clamps and not very severe ones at that. When Steve slides the loops to adjust the tension, it makes Bucky sigh in enjoyment. “Now this is the kind of pain I can get behind,” he says.

Steve looks interested. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm. S’nice.” Bucky wiggles again against the restraints, because that’s nice too. “You ever use warming cream with ‘em?” he asks. “It adds a nice burn.”

Steve snorts and flicks the bud of one nipple. “Hush,” he says. “No, I haven’t. You’re going to make me seem like the inexperienced one here, if you keep that up.” Bucky smiles proudly, and Steve tells him, “Remember that you planted that idea in my head, the next time I decide to really torture these pretty things.” Both of his hands come forward at that and flick and tug at the clamps.

Bucky pants a little. “Yes, Sir.”

He smiles down at him. “Now how about this toy you brought me, huh?” He picks the dildo up and waggles it in Bucky’s face. “S’pretty big.”

Bucky shrugs. “It’s squishy.”

“Squishy, huh? That make it easier to take?” Bucky nods, and Steve seems to consider that. “So you won’t need much prep for me to fuck it up into you, will you?”

Bucky shivers at the words. “No, Daddy,” he says. “I’m real good at taking fake cock. I practice a lot. I like it.”

Steve growls. He slaps Bucky’s face with the dildo, which makes him laugh. “You do, hm?” Steve says. He’s not even looking at Bucky to see his nod of confirmation, eyes already moving down his body. He snakes a hand under Bucky’s thigh and pushes, telling him curtly, “Up.” Bucky obeys, bending his knees and lifting his legs to his chest. Steve squirts lube directly onto his hole, zero warning, and Bucky gasps at the surprise of it. “Shh,” Steve chides. “You knew what you were doing, bragging about how hungry this hole is. Now you’re gonna prove it.”

Bucky moans. “Yeah, please. I can.”

“I know you can.” Steve works one finger into him, is gentle for about a millisecond before stuffing in another, and then he’s pulling them out and pressing the firm-soft head of the dildo against his entrance. Bucky whines as the pressure gives way and the toy slides into his body. Steve pushes it all the way in until it’s his palm holding the base flat against his ass. He jostles his arm, wiggling the toy inside of Bucky and making him cry out,

“Oh! Oh fuck. Steve, yeah.”

“Yeah?” Steve grins evilly and jostles his arm harder. “Yeah, fuuck. Look at that cunt. Eating it up, just like you said.”

Bucky’s eyes would roll into the back of his head, if he didn’t already have them closed. “Oh god Daddy, yeah I love it. Fuck me with it?” He humps his hips down, trying to get some movement from the toy, but Steve’s already got it in him as far as it can go. Steve doesn’t fuck him with it, and Bucky whines, opening his eyes to beg, “C’mon, please.”

“Shh,” Steve says, pressing against his hipbone to get him to hold still. Bucky doesn’t like that and he glares at Steve for denying him, but Steve just reaches up and gives the nipple clamps a cruel yank. “Don’t you dare pout,” he scolds. “Not when I’m going through all this trouble to treat you so nice.”

That stern tone does more for Bucky than any toy up his ass ever could (though he doesn’t tell Steve that). He huffs and nods, trying to settle down from the pleasure enough to focus. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

That seems to be enough for Steve. His eyes lose some of that stern Dom look and he regards Bucky softly. “Okay. Good. You ready to try something new?”

Bucky swallows, nodding. “Uh huh.” He turns his head, feeling slightly breathless as he watches Steve start picking things up. First he dons a pair of medical gloves, the latex stretching and snapping into place in a very no-nonsense way. Bucky chews his lips as he watches it. The gloves are black—they remind him of the ones tattoo artists wear, and he’s surprised by how much he likes the sight of them on Steve’s big hands. Bucky’s never fooled around much with medical scenes, hasn’t honestly ever felt the desire to, but being spread out under Steve’s scrutiny like this has him thinking that he wouldn’t mind being thoroughly examined by his Sir, if that’s what he wanted. Bucky tries to remember what Steve had marked on his kink list…

But then he’s distracted by the sight of Steve picking up the box of sounds and bringing it over. Bucky licks his lips. “Please tell me we’re starting small,” he says.

“Of course.” Steve looks at him in a way that lets Bucky know he’s silly for worrying. “Second to smallest one, here.” He selects one of the sounds and holds it up for Bucky to look at. “See? This is five millimeters.”

Bucky squints, imagining the thing sliding down into his cock. It’s exciting, but only in about the sickest way that Bucky could ever probably manage to be excited. Foreknowledge is a gift; if he’d never heard that there were people out there who got actual physical pleasure from sticking metal rods in their dicks, Bucky would be freaking out right about now. “Still looks big,” he mutters.

“It’ll be easy to take. Don’t worry.”

“Psh, easy for you to say.”

Steve gives the nipple clamps another punishing tug. “Hush. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“Have you… have you done this to yourself?”

“Yes.” Steve rubs along his inner thigh, just above where the spreader bar is holding his legs apart. “What’s your color baby? I don’t want you to be scared.”

Bucky shakes his head fast. “M’not! I’m Green. I want to.” He looks pointedly at his erection that hasn’t diminished. “Do I look uninterested?”

“Just checking in, Buck.” Steve grabs his dick, lifting it gently from where it’s been laying on his stomach and giving him a few firm strokes. Bucky grunts and digs his skull back onto the pillow, eyes squeezing shut at the pleasure. “Theere you go,” Steve murmurs. “Just gotta remind you about your little cock and then you’re all about it, huh?” Steve laughs at Bucky when he squirms in place. When Bucky tries to hump down onto the bed to work the dildo inside of himself, Steve pinches him warningly. “None of that now, honey. Gonna make you feel so good if you just behave.”

Bucky nods eagerly and stops squirming. “Yeah,” he says, opening his eyes to watch Steve’s hands on him. “Okay, I can. I can be good.” He can be good, even if it’s crazy frustrating and Steve isn’t touching him near enough. “Please,” he whispers. Just please don’t stop.”

Steve eases up, goes from full on jerking him to just the barest of strokes with the tips of his fingers. He’s gentle in the way he eases Bucky’s foreskin down to reveal the flushed head, but it’s frustrating as hell because now Bucky’s getting even less stimulation than he was before. He wants to sob, or maybe scream, and he has to grit his teeth to keep from doing either. He just pants helplessly and watches as Steve touches him at his own pace, unable to do anything about it. “Look at you,” Steve murmurs, swiping his thumb through the bead of fluid that’s already welling at the head. “It’s like you like this or something.”

“Please,” Bucky croaks. “Steve, please let me.”

“Let you?” Steve says, voice high and sweet like Bucky’s some dumb child. “Let you do what, Sweetheart? You can’t even do anything. You’re all tied up.” Bucky groans at the truth of that and Steve smiles. “Shh, don’t know why you’re fussing. You know I’m gonna take care of you.” He grabs a small squeeze bottle with his free hand and drips what looks like very thick lube onto the tip of his cock. He thumbs it in against the head, pushing some of it into the slit. Then Bucky watches, rapt, as he picks the sound back up and slicks that too, smoothing it all over until the metal is glistening. He holds it to the tip of Bucky’s dick, letting him feel the cool end touching him. “This is going to feel really, really bizarre,” he says. “Very sensitive, borderline too-much and lots of pressure. It’ll start out sort of pleasurable as I slide the sound in, just not exactly comparable to anything else. Then when it’s fully in you, I’ll make it feel real fucking good. You ready?”

Fuck, Bucky thinks. This feels like that one time when he was eleven and went and dipped his hand into a vat of paraffin wax at a carnival. It’d sounded like a terrible idea, but it hadn’t hurt like he’d been expecting, and he’d gotten something pretty cool from it in the end. This also sounds like a terrible, terrible idea, but he knows Steve is going to take care of him. He’ll make it good. “Yeah,” Bucky breathes ...and then watches as the metal sound pushes into his dick.

His mouth is immediately dropping open, his breath going from normal to labored in a millisecond. “Oh!” he gasps, “Oh,oh,oh.” Steve’s not looking at him. He’s laser-focused on Bucky’s dick as he slides the sound in. Steve had been right; it isn’t like anything Bucky’s ever felt, it doesn’t compare. Steve gets the sound halfway down his dick, then pulls it out slowly, drips more of the lube onto his tip, and pushes back in.

The push seems to take forever, and each inch is more overwhelming than the last. There’s a scary abrasiveness to it that almost hurts, and Bucky can’t decide if that’s more or less prominent than the pleasure that he feels from the pressure and from simply being touched in a place where he’s never been touched before. It’s so sensitive. He exhales shuddery breaths, unable to tear his eyes away from it—like porn, or a car crash.

But Steve’s being gentle. His gloved hand is holding Bucky’s cock so gently while the other puts the sound in him. And he’s not even really pushing, Bucky doesn’t think. He’s just allowing gravity to pull the metal into his body, to slide into Bucky’s cock and fill him in this new, overwhelming way. “Oh my god,” Bucky pants as the sound bottoms out. “Fuck, fuck. God, Steve.”

Steve hums. His eyes flick up to meet Bucky’s. “I know, I know. You’re okay.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky huffs. Steve’s right: he is okay, but still… Sweat is pricking at his hairline and he wants to reach up to wipe it away, but one move to do so and he remembers that his wrists are firmly secured to his thighs. “Shit,” he breathes. He knows that Steve is watching him, waiting for his say so that he’s doing alright and that this is all still green for him. “Yeah I’m okay. It’s… fuck. It’s so weird. You were right.” He closes his eyes and worries his bottom lip as he focuses on the feeling of the sound, all the way in him.

It’s so full. He loves that part of it, and now that the initial, scary push is done, he thinks that he likes the borderline-painful rub of it, too. It’s… one of the most confusing sensations he’s ever felt. “I can’t believe it’s really in there,” he whispers. Distantly, he hears Steve chuckle, but it’s on the periphery—definitely not the focus right now. He’s starting to feel lightheaded in that way that he gets, body thrumming with his pulse, cock thrumming with his pulse. God, he’s never been more aware of that part of himself, and that’s why he can’t keep his eyes closed for long. He has to open them and look back down. He has to see.

Steve has abandoned his hold on the sound, letting it just sit there in Bucky’s cock, sunken-in and held in place by its own weight. With the hand that’s holding Bucky’s cock, he starts rubbing his thumb underneath the glans, massaging the frenulum. “How’s it feel, baby?” he asks. “You like it?”

“Ughn,” Bucky grunts, which he feels is a very good expression for how he feels. He watches as Steve starts to move his fist up and down on his cock for real again, jerking him in slow, gentle strokes. But this time Bucky’s glad it’s gentle, because he doesn’t think he could take any more. Steve’s stroking brings a whole new intensity to the feeling of what’s going on inside his dick right now, and Bucky keens at the feeling of the sound working inside him. It feels like he’s being jerked off from the outside and the inside, and it’s amazing. “Yeah,” he sighs, throat working as he swallows and tells Steve, “Feels so good, Steve. You were right, you were right.” Distantly, he realizes that his asshole is clenching on the dildo, wringing pleasure from that, too, and the thought that he’s stuffed so full in both places makes Bucky moan in arousal. “I love that you’re doing this to me,” he whimpers. “Steve.

Steve runs his free hand up and over Bucky’s belly soothingly. “Told you I’d make you feel good.” He flicks the nipple clamps to make Bucky twitch from the small flare of pain. “And this isn’t even the best part. I’m gonna go a little deeper, you’ll see.”


Steve’s smile is a slash of white across his handsome face. “Yeah. I’m gonna stimulate your prostate. Just another inch or two and I can get at it.”

“You… can do that?” Bucky untenses as he sees Steve nodding. “Well…okay,” he says. He’s got that squirmy urge again, and satisfies himself by wiggling against his restraints, secure in the knowledge that he can’t get away. He’s stuck no matter what and just has to take whatever Steve wants to give him. That makes him feel safer, knowing that he’s got no choice in the matter. Swallowing, he relaxes his head back against the pillow and give Steve a nod. “Okay, please.”

“Such a polite boy.” Steve’s eyes go back down, and a second later Bucky gasps, his toes curling and thighs making the restraints rattle where they connect with the bar. He can feel the sound sliding deeper. He knows Steve said an inch or two, but Holy Fuck does it feel like Bucky’s deepest parts are being prodded. He imagines himself as a little boardgame that Steve is fucking around with, delving deep into with the sound and seeing what he can find, ready to fuck him up the first chance he gets. Bucky imagines Steve hitting something bad and a buzzer screeching as his nose lights up.

He’d laugh at that image, except for that it’s exactly how he feels. Except for that it’s not what happens at all. The sound touches Bucky’s prostate and Bucky’s insides light up with pleasure. “What the fuck?!” he hisses, his hips jerking even though he’s fighting so hard to stay still. Steve is staring at him, cautious, and Bucky nods. “Oh, oh fuck. Do it again.”

Steve grins, and does, fingers pulling the sound out the barest of increments, and then pushing back in, bumping the end of the metal rod against Bucky’s prostate. “Yeah?” he asks, looking darkly eager and turned on at Bucky’s pleasure. “Am I hitting it, honey? Hitting your sweet spot?”

Bucky nods, fast and uncoordinated. “Oh my god Steve, it’s so… it’s so…”

“I know,” Steve murmurs. He abandons the sound again, now sunk even further into Bucky’s body. More lube gets drizzled onto Bucky’s shaft and he goes back to jerking him off.

The hot, slick slide of his fist over Bucky cock is a thousand times better and more intense because of the sound, and Bucky feels halfway insane from the warring sensations of pleasure and pain. And fuck, but he’s so glad Steve didn’t try to explain this sort of pain to him. Bucky wouldn’t have understood, would’ve just freaked out and maybe not wanted to try. But this—this—is so good. It’s exquisite, perfect pressure and pleasure and pain, and Bucky feels like he’s going crazy from the inside out. That’s okay though, he thinks muzzily. Because it’s worth it. Steve’s the one who’s doing it to him. He’s got Steve, and that means that no matter what happens, Bucky will be safe. “Oh, god,” he sighs, eyes hooded now as he watches Steve lazily jacking him off. “S’good.”

“I know, baby.” Steve smiles at him. “You’re so good for me, letting me play with you like this.” He stops stroking and just holds Bucky’s cock still at the base. Then he trails his free hand down past his balls and applies pressure to his taint. The sound is pushed up and out, several inches of it reappearing out the end of his dick.

Bucky gasps. “Oh!”

Steve snickers. “I can fuck you just like this, see?” He demonstrates, holding Bucky’s cock still with the one hand and pulsing the other against Bucky’s taint to make the sound slide in and out those few inches; in and out, in and out. Bucky moans loudly and tries to fuck his hips up, but there’s nothing for him to get to. It’s just his cock, being jerked off from the inside, and fuck, but it feels like an orgasm every time the curved end of the sound moves against the base of his dick. Bucky feels like he’s leaving his body, like he’s losing all control, and he’s more relieved than ever that Steve restrained him the way that he did. Steve is so smart. He’s such a fucking genius.

Steve’s laughter hits Bucky’s ears, and his voice saying, “Well thank you, Sweetheart. I’ll always take a compliment.” He bends over Bucky and kisses him, pulling away before Bucky can even try to kiss back. Bucky sighs at the loss. “I’ll always take care of you Buck,” Steve tells him, and the firm sincerity of those words just hits Bucky like a train.

He shudders, feeling overwhelmed tears starting to gather in his eyes and not knowing what to do about it. Maybe he doesn’t have to do anything though, because Steve’s got him restrained and is taking care of everything. So Bucky lets the tears well up and slide down the sides of his face. Steve sees, but he understands that it’s not a bad thing. He just smiles at him and palms his jaw, touching the wetness but not wiping it away. “You feeling good, baby boy?”

“Uh huh.” Bucky nods, the fuzzy feeling growing, honey dripping faster in his brain and starting to form a little pool. “Mm.”

Steve holds the tip of the sound again and pulls on it, fucking Bucky’s dick so gently with it, sliding it in and out, making him feel things he’s never felt before. Bucky feels like he’s getting that first, throbbing pulse of an orgasm over and over again, but never really coming, and he wants that so much but can’t vocalize it now. “Oh, please,” he sobs, head tossing against the pillow. “Please please.”

“What is it? What do you need?” Steve asks. He cups Bucky’s balls and rubs slick fingertips behind them. “You want to come?”

Fuck, Steve knows everything. Bucky wants to babble praise at him and tell him that yes, that’s exactly what he wants and Steve is such a perfect Daddy to know just what he needs. All he can do right now, though, is nod and plead. “Please. I want it.”

Steve smiles at him. “Okay baby. Let’s make you come. I’m not gonna stroke your cock though.” Bucky whines, but Steve just hushes him. He doesn’t pinch him or jostle the nipple clamps this time, though. This time he’s patient. “It’s gonna feel good,” he promises. “I’m gonna fuck you with the sound and this cock we put inside you—remember that?” He reaches further back and presses on the dildo, pulsing it inside Bucky’s body and making him cry out. “Yeah. I bet that feels real good, filling you up, huh?”

Bucky nods like his life depends on it, his hips screwing down to meet the little thrusts that Steve is giving him with the dildo. Steve doesn’t tell him he can’t, which makes Bucky want to sob with relief. The press of the cock against his insides feels so good, and it’s insane that he can feel his prostate being prodded from both sides. It makes the pleasure build and build, and suddenly he’s right there from the double stimulation. “M’close,” he manages to breathe.

“Good. Come whenever you need to, Sweetheart. I’m gonna watch.”

It doesn’t take long. Bucky’s lower body coils up tighter than ever, his cock pulsing around the sound and his ass throbbing around the dildo, and then it’s all releasing in one big rush. He gasps, flooded with the pleasure of an orgasm ripping through him and staring, rapt, as his contracting muscles push the sound most of the way out. Steve’s fingers help it along and he sets it aside, slowly stroking Bucky’s cock as the orgasm subsides. “Theere’s my good boy,” he rumbles, eyes darker than ever in arousal. “Fuck, Bucky. You came dry.”

Bucky blinks, not processing what that means for a few seconds. Then he sees his spent cock laying on his stomach, still mostly hard and with no strings of come anywhere to be seen. He exhales shakily, licking his lips and closing his eyes. “I did?”

“Yeah.” Steve pets his cock. Bucky twitches in overstimulation, but the feeling isn’t as strong as it would normally be after coming. “You want to come again?” Steve asks calmly, removing the latex gloves from his hands.

“Mm hm,” Bucky slurs. “Yeah.”

Steve hums and sinks down on top of him. His body is warm and heavy and Bucky wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around his broad back, but he can’t. So he searches for Steve’s mouth, wanting to feel the hot, familiar slide of his tongue. Steve obliges, taking his mouth slow and firm. They kiss for a long time, and by the time they part, Bucky can feel how Steve’s pulsing his hips against the crest of his groin. He tilts up against it with a needy whine, and that must get his point across because Steve chuckles and slows and meets his eyes. He kisses Bucky’s chin, eyes eager but calm in that dark way they get when he’s this turned on. “You want more now?” he asks. One of his hands sneaks down between Bucky’s legs and takes hold of the dildo, slowly drawing it out. The feeling makes Bucky inhale sharply through his nose, his body clenching down in protest. “Shh,” Steve soothes. “Relax. Let it go.” The dildo leaves his body in a hot, wet slide, and Bucky whimpers and winces at the sudden emptiness. Steve pulls back to sitting and lays the toy aside, returns to puts his hand where the dildo was. It’s his thumb that touches Bucky’s tender rim, Bucky realizes, but he doesn’t penetrate him. He just starts up a gentle pressure with his thumb, rubbing circles with it. “You ready to let me have this sweet hole, baby?”

Bucky blinks, so aroused by those words it hurts. Yes, Daddy, he thinks. Take it, it’s yours. Make me feel good, use me up. He nods helplessly, pushing his hips down against the teasing pressure of Steve’s hand. “Want it,” he slurs. “Mmm, please.”

Steve’s thumb dips in and tugs wetly at his rim, making Bucky sigh and shift restlessly. “Sweet thing,” Steve murmurs, and he’s not even looking at Bucky as he says it. His eyes are lower, fixed down between Bucky’s legs, watching what he’s doing to him. “You’re so gorgeous here, you know that?” Steve’s eyes flick up to his face, and he looks immeasurably pleased at Bucky’s blush. “Aw,” he goads, “but it’s true, honey. You should see it. Your little hole’s all pink and soft-lookin’; puffy and wet. You can tell you’ve been stuffed with something already.” Bucky keens, trying to scrub his overheated cheek against the pillow but unable to escape Steve’s words. “I can tell you’re feeling good, too, cause it keeps tensing and fluttering around my finger.” He chuckles darkly at Bucky’s whine of mortification. “Yeah, I don’t think it likes being empty. Think I should get my dick in there real soon.” He looks up, uses his other hand to palm the side of Bucky’s face. Bucky pushes his cheek into it like a plea. “You want that, Sweetheart?” Steve asks. “Want me to fuck you for the first time?”

Oh, but that makes Bucky’s belly flip. He nods, overeager, and says, “Please Daddy.”

Steve dips in and kisses him, then corrects, “My name, okay?” When Bucky just makes a hurt, confused little whine, he kisses him again and explains, “Just this once baby boy, pull yourself together enough to ask for what you want. I want to hear you say it.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he realizes what Steve’s asking of him, and no, it’s too hard! What if he can’t—

“Come on,” Steve prompts, thumb leaving his body and quickly being replaced by two heavily-slicked fingers. He pumps them lightly in Bucky’s ass and keep his eyes locked on his, urging him, “What do you want Bucky? Tell me and then you can have it. I’ll let you float away on all those golden feelings you’re having.”

Bucky whimpers but he nods too, because he wants to be good for Steve. Wants so badly to make him proud and to be his good boy. And he wants to feel Steve in him, filling him up. He can have it all, he just has to say it. Slowly, feeling like he’s pulling his head out of a vat of sticky molasses, he nods. “P-please,” he says, because no matter how far down the honey jar he’s gone, he always seems to be able to remember that one. “…Daddy,”

“My name, baby boy,” Steve reminds him firmly. He keeps pumping his hand into Bucky’s ass, dragging the pads of his fingers and making Bucky’s insides light up. “Come on Buck, I know you can do it. Tell me what you want.”

Bucky works his jaw, tries to move his tongue in a way that makes sense. “S-steve,” he whispers, and Steve’s eyes curving in a smile drive him on. “Steve, please. Please fuck me. Your… c-cock—ah!” he cuts off on a gasp as Steve’s fingers jab into him, nailing his prostate. Above him, Steve is back to grinning wickedly.

“You want my cock in you?”

Bucky moans, nodding and humping down against Steve’s fingers, wanting to pull Steve closer but completely unable to reach for him. God, he wishes he had his hands free! Every time he remembers that they’re bound to his thighs, it’s like a punch to the gut. He’s unable to move the way he wants, touch the way he wants; is only able to lay there and ache and beg and take what he’s given. …He doesn’t want his hands free at all. “Please,” he starts babbling again, “Please, please,”

Steve grunts, satisfied and shifting gears. Now he’s back to business, the tenderness of only a moment ago slipping away to be replaced by something altogether more base. He sits back on his heels and undoes the spreader bar, setting it aside. Bucky wiggles, thinking the cuffs are coming off next, but Steve doesn’t pay them any attention. Bucky’s wrists remain secured firmly to his thighs. He groans at the realization that Steve is going to keep him bound and helpless the whole time. Steve is going to fuck him like this.

He’s squeezing lube onto himself and giving a few strokes. Bucky watches, rapt. “Oh,” he says, lacking words but wanting to tell Steve how mind-meltingly hot he is anyway. He wishes he could touch, could be the one to pull on Steve’s cock and make it swell and blurt out precome. As it is, he can only stare as he thickens and grows darker as he strokes himself. “Mm,” Bucky murmurs. “Hurry.”

Steve chuckles darkly, reaching over and grabbing a condom packet. “Oh, you remember that word, though, huh?” He rips it open, sliding it over his dick quickly and adding more lube. He grabs the back of Bucky’s thighs and shoves them towards his chest. Bucky grunts at the forceful shift, dick twitching in interest because he fucking loves being manhandled. Steve shuffles forward and lines up, and a second later he’s pushing in, the head of his cock breaching Bucky’s rim with hardly any effort. He groans filthily and sinks down over him, shoving his face in Bucky’s neck and kissing him as he whispers, “So stretched out for me baby. It’s like you got a slick little cunt down there, just eating me up."

Bucky groans at the words. “Fuck, Daddy. Yeah. S’a cunt.”

Steve growls, biting Bucky’s neck hard enough to make him yelp. He pulls back to kneeling and shoves Bucky’s thighs more harshly towards his chest. Then he puts one palm right over his neck and applies the barest amount of pressure. Bucky whines mightily at that, loving the feeling of Steve’s strong hand around his throat and aching for it to be more, for Steve to press harder, cut off more of his breath.

“Oh, Daddy,” he breathes, eyes searching frantically for Steve’s attention, desperate for him to know what this does to him.

Steve’s eyes lock on him, fierce and attentive. “Gimme a color.”

Green,” Bucky croaks. “Please, oh. Need it.”

Steve chuckles darkly and he lets the tiniest bit more weight come through his right hand. He watches Bucky’s reaction with heavy-lidded eyes. “Yeah?”

Bucky nods—quick, jerky little movements of his head. “Nn, Daddy… please.” He’s pushing his ass back on Steve’s cock, fingers straining in the cuffs where they’re bound to his thighs. He’s sweaty and he’s tired, but he wants more, wants to be fucked so hard he can hardly stand it. Tears of frustration escape the corners of his eyes—frustration at the fact that he’s not getting fucked, but even more so at his own inability to ask for it. “Please,” he whines, voice high and desperate, his hips still searching. “Ple—pleeease!” Steve slaps him across the face, and Bucky moans like a whore. He’s panting as he recaptures Steve’s gaze, feels like there must be love in his eyes. “Oh,”

“Time to stop that useless begging, baby boy,” Steve grunts. “Time to just let me fuck this pretty body how I want and get off inside you.” He sets in to doing just that, gripping Bucky with rough hands as he starts fucking him, fast and harsh.

Bucky nods in desperate agreement, moaning and panting as Steve gives him what he wants—rutting into him harder and harder, fucking his body in selfish pleasure. It’s so brutal and it feels so good, because Bucky’s so sensitive, his insides all lit up from his first orgasm, and it feels like every push and pull of Steve’s cock is dragging right over his prostate. Bucky wants to tell Steve but he couldn’t find the words if he tried. His high, desperate cries just sound like filthy sex noises, but in his head they say things like, Take it Daddy, it’s yours; and, Fuck my hole, fucking ruin me; and, God it’s so good, so good sofuckingperfect thank you! And he always wants this, he thinks hazily as Steve thoroughly reams him out; to be under Steve, held open and in place for him, given pleasure and used for pleasure and told he’s a good boy and a pretty thing until he’s exhausted and covered in come.

It’s what he’s meant for.

Steve’s face, when he’s very close to climax, is the most perfect thing Bucky’s ever seen. His features tense and get so desperate, his hips smacking Bucky’s ass like he’d like to drive straight through him, then stuttering and freezing. And his eyes slip closed as he starts to come, his brow pinching and lips parting beautifully. All Bucky wants in the world is to shove his tongue in Steve’s mouth while he comes, to make him feel like this forever. Fuck, it’s gorgeous.

Steve’s hips pulse against him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, and then he collapses once he’s done. Bucky sighs and tucks his face in against the side of Steve’s head, nosing at his hair. He kisses his sweaty temple, humming and idly rubbing his erection against Steve’s stomach. “Feel good, Daddy?” he asks, knowing that the answer has to be yes.

God, baby boy,” Steve huffs, too out of breath to finish the sentence. He just nods against Bucky’s shoulder and pants into his skin as he recovers. His body is wonderfully heavy, and Bucky squirms in contentment at the feeling of being held down. He still can’t use his hands, so he starts mindlessly humping up against Steve’s stomach, enjoying the friction of his cock sliding against the other man’s abs. The movement makes Steve slip out of him, which makes Bucky whine. Steve laughs and pinches his side. “So spoiled,” he teases, sitting up to remove the condom and toss it away. He comes back to Bucky, dipping in to lick and kiss at his mouth. “You just want to keep feeling good, huh? Just want to rub your dick on whatever’s convenient.”

Bucky whines in protest but he’s nodding too, because Steve’s right—that is what he wants. His cock throbs and Bucky looks down. It’s back to being flushed and full and leaking against his belly. Bucky can hardly stand to look because he just wants to grab his dick and jerk off furiously but he can’t. His hands are still strapped down to his thighs. Bucky grits his teeth in frustration, nails digging into the skin of his palms. “Oh please,” he begs. “Please touch it. Please. Wanna come.”

Steve makes a satisfied noise at this, and he lies back overtop of Bucky, shoving one of his thighs between his legs to give him something to rut against. Bucky sobs at the opportunity and takes it, hips canting up as he tries desperately to get off. “There you go,” Steve says, voice dark and aroused, enjoying the sight of Bucky humping him. “Desperate boy,” he murmurs. “That must feel really good, huh?”

“Mm,” Bucky whines, nodding his head and working his hips frantically. Oh, he’s close. He can come like this, he can come. “Please,” he sobs, belly tight and breath hitching as he catches Steve’s eyes. Fuck, fuck! His cock is rubbing just right on the curve of Steve’s groin. “M’gonna come, please. M’gonna—ah—gonna come.” His eyes squeeze shut as he gasps. “Please!”

“Shhh.” Steve’s lips at his hair, on his forehead; and a soothing voice. Deep, good words that Bucky doesn’t understand are being murmured into his skin. Then Bucky hears Steve tell him ‘yes’. Steve’s fist wraps around his cock to wring the orgasm straight out of him, and he yanks the nipple clamps off, and Bucky comes with an agonized wail.


For a long time after, Bucky’s unresponsive. Steve seems to get this, though, and he doesn’t push him to talk too much as he gathers him up, cleans him off and wraps him up. Bucky is allowed to stay in his golden-hued mind, just smiling and humming every time Steve rumbles something good into his skin or kisses him. It’s like a dream.

Bucky emerges from it though, and it’s peaceful. He’s in Steve’s arms, backed up against Steve’s chest where he’s sitting against the headboard. All of a sudden, things make more sense. Bucky’s wrapped in a blanket, and it’s water that Steve’s been urging him to drink in small sips, he sees. “Oh,” he murmurs softly. He tips his head up to look at Steve.

Steve smiles fondly at him. He runs fingers through Bucky’s messy hair. “Hey, you,” he says. “You back with me?”

Bucky blushes, smiling, and nods. He shoves his face against Steve’s chest, embarrassed by how far out of it he’d been. “Mmhm,” he says, squirming.

Steve laughs. “Don’t be shy.” He pets at Bucky’s hair. “I love seeing you feeling so good, you know?”

Bucky peeks up. “You do?”

“More than I think I could tell you.”

Bucky bites his lip. “You don’t think it’s…”

No,” Steve says firmly. He tips Bucky’s chin up to look at him. “It does it for me Bucky, like seriously. S’kinda the whole point, for a guy like me.”

Bucky blushes massively and tucks his head back under Steve’s chin again, glad when Steve lets him go. In all honestly, he’s not quite back to normal yet. He can tell from the way it feels like there’s still a thin layer of cotton batting around his senses. It’s not a bad feeling at all. “Kay,” he murmurs. “Sometimes I just get shaky, s’all. After.”

Steve’s hands still in their petting, and then he pulls the edges of the blanket Bucky’s wrapped in, tucking him in tighter. “Shaky?” he asks gently.

“Mm.” Bucky frowns. “Yeah. ”

“Do you feel shaky now?”

“No.” Bucky scrubs his face against Steve’s chest, sighing at the warmth and hardness of his body. “Feel good,” he says. “Happy.”

Steve squeezes him and kisses his hair. “That’s good, baby. I’m glad. That’s how you’re supposed to feel after playing.”

Bucky hums and shrugs. “Sometimes.” Underneath where he’s resting, Steve’s body goes tense—Bucky can feel it. He peeks his eyes open and looks at him. His face looks… unhappy. “…Steve?”

“It’s okay,” Steve reassures. “I want to talk to you about something, but only when you’re all the way back with me, okay?”


Steve pets him and loses some of that tense feeling, which makes Bucky glad. He hadn’t liked that. Steve produces something that isn’t the water bottle at Bucky’s lips, and once it hits his tongue Bucky realizes it’s chocolate. He moans, sucking on the small piece that Steve’d given him. Steve’s chuckle feels good where it reverberates out of him. “Thought you’d like that,” he murmurs into his skin.

Bucky hums happily and lets Steve continue feeding him little bits of the chocolate, dispersed here and there by more sips of water. It’s lazy and it’s pleasant, going on for a long time until eventually Bucky feels more back to normal. He yawns and refuses another bite of chocolate, looking at Steve with clearer eyes. “Do I get all this because I’m a good boy?” he asks, smirking. He expects Steve to smirk back, maybe tickle him or something, but instead he looks serious. Bucky frowns. “What?”

“Buck, I’d treat you like this no matter what,” he tells him. “The blanket, the touches, the water and chocolate; that’s something I’ll always give you after we’ve been together. It’s something you need, after you’ve been in subspace. We talked about this, remember?”

Bucky squirms. “Oh, yeah.”

“Aftercare,” Steve confirms. “You shouldn’t ever have to feel ‘shaky’ after sex, Buck.”

Bucky shrugs. “I just thought that was me, you know. Like, um, just my personality when it came to having hard sex.”

Steve makes a disapproving noise. “No, Bucky. That’s not you. That’s subdrop.”

“…I don’t get it.” Bucky bites his lip and glances up at Steve, unhappy to see how displeased he looks. “Are you mad?”

Steve makes a frustrated noise and hauls him in closer against his chest. Bucky squeaks, but goes willingly. “No, Buck,” Steve says. “I’m not mad. Not at you.” Sighing, he sets in to explaining, “When you get sweet for me, you know that’s subspace, right?”


Steve pinches him. “Hush. Stop acting like you know everything—because you obviously don’t—and listen.” Bucky quiets, abashed, and Steve says, “Do you know what causes subspace, baby boy?”

Bucky shrugs. “My brain.”

“Exactly. It’s a combination of endorphins and other neurochemicals. When you get real excited by pain and control—”

“—and sex,” Bucky asserts.

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, Buck. You’re real easy; sex gets you there too. Anyway, they build up in you, those things, make you feel high. But then when all the action stops, there’s nothing making those chemicals anymore, so the levels drop and there’s nothing to ease you down. Your system’s essentially going through withdrawal at that point.” He strokes Bucky’s back and arm pointedly. “If nobody touches you or gives you stimulation to make you feel good, then you’re just being left alone to crash. You’re going from one hundred to zero, and that’s what makes you feel so miserable.”

Bucky is quiet as he processes this. After a long minute, he says, “So… the chocolate and stuff…”

“It’s to help you down from the high more gently.”

Bucky peeks up at Steve. “So… it’s like detox.”

Steve huffs a laugh and pulls Bucky against him, kissing his hair. “Yeah baby. A little dose of methadone.”

Bucky hums, snuggling up against Steve and letting his eyes slipped closed. “I guess that makes sense.”

“It does.” Steve holds him and pets him for a little while before he says. “Has anybody ever given you aftercare Bucky?”

“Mm, not like this,” Bucky says. “Brock… sometimes held me or something, if he was tired or we were just going to sleep anyway. But he didn’t do this.” At ‘this’, Bucky wiggles in Steve’s hold. “I don’t think he knew about aftercare.” Steve grunts, but doesn’t say any more to argue. “Gavin hated anything touchy-feely. Stuff like this made him really uncomfortable.” Bucky snorts, “Aftercare would’ve made him crawl out of his skin.”

Steve sighs heavily. “He was a stone top.” At Bucky’s nod, Steve gives him a squeeze and says softly, “I really hate that, you know? That nobody’s ever handled you correctly. You deserve to feel good Bucky. You deserve to be taken care of by somebody who knows what they’re doing.”

Bucky is stock still and quiet. He feels like he’s holding his breath at Steve’s words. “I do?” he asks, just because he has to think of something to say.

“Yeah, you do. I loved taking care of you tonight, bringing you down from how good you were feeling. …I always want to do that for you.”

“Oh.” Bucky feels warm and pleased at that admission, though he’s got no idea what to say back. He squirms in Steve’s hold and inhales deeply, enjoying the smell of the other man. “Me too,” he winds up saying just as a yawn is overtaking him. Steve chuckles, and Bucky smiles. He’s getting sleepy, and Steve seems to realize this.

“Here,” he says, scooting in the pillows until they’re both closer to laying down than sitting up. He rearranges Bucky against his side and tucks his hair behind his ear. “Close your eyes, Buck. Fall asleep for a little bit.”

Bucky yawns again, nodding. “M’kay.”

“Good boy.”

“Mm. But—”

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll wake you up in a little bit.”

Bucky smiles without opening his eyes. Steve thinks of everything. “Oh.”


“...You really want to take care of me?” Bucky asks, thinking about how Steve had brought up the twenty-four seven idea.

“Yeah, Bucky. I really do.”

“Oh. …Okay,” Bucky murmurs. If he wasn’t so tired, the thoughts whirling round in his head might make him anxious, but as it is he’s half-asleep already and all Steve’s words really do are make Bucky feel warm and cared-for. He dozes off to the realization of the depth this whole thing could take on, if he lets it.

Chapter Text

This thing with Steve shouldn’t be that good. It shouldn’t.

Because Bucky’s had sex before. All kinds, too. He’s had sex so good it made him cry, and sex so mediocre he’d gotten bored. He’s had vanilla sex, dirty sex; bad sex with good people and good sex with bad people (and vice versa). So it isn’t with any lack of basis for comparison that he wakes up, lays in Steve’s arms and starts to internally freak out, because this is THE BEST he’s ever had it.

And it might not be such a big deal if it was just once, but it’s been every time. And maybe it wouldn’t be so intimidating if Steve just had a mind-blowing body, or if he was just kinky, or just a secretly-rich nerd who wanted to be Bucky’s DaddyDom. Unfortunately for Bucky and his emotional capacity, however, it isn’t just one thing that makes Steve so perfect. It’s all of it. It’s so many little reasons and Bucky. cannot. even.

Steve is, unavoidably, golden relationship material. The only hitch is that he’s sixteen years Bucky’s senior. Where does Bucky go with that? He imagines a life with Steve, adding up the numbers: 21/37, 30/46, 40/56, 50/66 (and doesn’t go further because he honestly can’t bear to imagine himself any older than that). The moment he starts thinking those thoughts, though, he starts scolding himself. Steve’s age doesn’t matter if they’re just casual, if they’re just having fun. That had been the goal, after all. Hadn’t it?

Now he’s lying in Steve’s bed, naked and sore and with Steve spooned against his back. The darkening twilight from the window lets Bucky know that soon it’ll be time for him to leave. He looks down at where Steve’s got his arm draped over him, his big hand laying possessively by his waist. A wave of longing hits Bucky and he bites his lip. He hasn’t had someone to hold him and care about him in almost three years (Gavin doesn’t count and Brock only barely). He’s never had someone like Steve; a real, kind man who wants to take care of him. Bucky wants that. Now that Steve has put the offer out, he wants it. And he doesn’t know what to make of that. He feels like he doesn’t have space in himself to put something that big. That’s what she said.

Bucky knows he can’t tell Steve any of this, lest he scare the guy off. All of a sudden it occurs to him that he just can’t stand the idea of not getting to have this… for the rest of his life.


Bucky blinks the sudden, irrational burn of tears from his eyes and shrugs out of Steve’s arms, sitting up in the bed. Get it together, Barnes, he thinks. You’ve known this guy for three weeks. You’ll get tired of him. Bucky nods silently, as if that will solidify the thought. He’s so goddamn eager to hop right on board the Steve train, but it might not last. Bucky’s got a pattern, Clint’s pointed it out over and over again. He obsesses over one person, sleeps with them, then moves on. It’s predictable and enjoyable and most importantly, it’s what he knows.

Bucky bites his lip and thinks about the last two hours of his life; Steve feeding him, snuggling him, beating him and sounding him and fucking him. Ugh, but it’s all been so good. Steve is fucking unbelievable. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his brain to stop arguing with itself. Then a hand touches his naked back.

“Hey. You woke up.”

Bucky opens his eyes again. He twists around to look at Steve and, yeah, he’s just as fucking gorgeous as ever. “Yeah,” Bucky says. His voice is groggy and he swallows to try and get it back to normal. “You said you wouldn’t let me oversleep.”

Steve yawns, smiling. “I set an alarm.” He checks his phone, flicks the alarm off, then pulls Bucky back to laying down. Bucky squawks in surprise but goes willingly. Steve pulls him against his chest and kisses him. And fuck, it’s like the kiss just erases all of Bucky’s fears about what an indecisive whore he is. Steve’s kiss is everything. Bucky’s hands float up to hold his jaw. He wants this all the time.

“You need to head out?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. “Yeah.” He doesn’t want to, not now that he’s wrapped up in Steve’s arms again. He knows Steve would let him spend the night, if he asked. Bucky sighs and pulls away to sit up again. He has to go. He’d promised Clint he wouldn’t be that guy, dumping his best friends for his new… what? he thinks. Boyfriend? Lover? Sir? Bucky sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. “Yeah,” he repeats, standing up and going to get his clothes that Steve had made him fold. He feels his cheeks heat at the memory of it. He’d liked it, is the weird thing. Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever done a domestic chore in his entire life and liked it. Rules of personal hygiene aside, he is a royal fucking slob.

“Mm,” Steve says lazily from the bed. “Wish you didn’t. Wish you could stay.”

“Yeah, well…” Bucky shrugs, “I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

Steve’s grin is wide and unguarded. “You can count on it.”


Steve winds up ordering him an uber. An uber black, which is noteworthy only because Bucky’s on a budget poor as fuck and has never ordered black before. It’s pretty nifty. Lincoln town cars have really nice interiors, and the driver doesn’t play weird music on the radio or try to make conversation. Bucky thinks that he could get used to being spoiled, if that’s what Steve wants to do.

He’s looking out the window, watching the scenery of Georgetown pass by, when his phone pings with a text from Steve.

Professor Hottie: Hey, you seemed a little quiet when you were leaving. I feel like I should have asked you how you were doing, made sure you were okay after this evening. Are you feeling okay?

Ugh, Bucky thinks, thunking his skull back against the headrest. Stop caring so much, Steve. He stares down at his phone, feeling inordinately peeved that Steve is still checking in to make sure that he’s okay. He’s still trying to take care of him. Bucky can’t handle this right now. He’s trying to zone out from it. How’s he supposed to make a freaking decision if Steve won’t leave him alone for two seconds?

I’m fine, he texts back. Then, feeling like that isn’t sufficient and will just get Steve worrying more and texting him out the wazoo, he adds, I had a great time tonight. I’m glad I came over. He is glad, conflicted feelings aside. Just because Bucky’s an immature jerk doesn’t mean he has to take it out on Steve. After a beat, he texts, Thank you.

Steve’s reply is frustratingly instant.

Professor Hottie: You’re welcome, baby boy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Have fun with your friends tonight. Be safe and don’t drink too much.

Bucky freezes, blinking down at the text. Then he scowls. He jabs the button to close the screen out. So now Steve just thinks he can tell him what to do, huh? Thinks he can just start ordering Bucky around twenty-four seven? Fuck that. Bucky crosses his arms petulantly, even though there’s nobody there to see. “Sorry, Sir,” he mutters. “But you can’t tell me what the fuck to do.”

The driver raises an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror but doesn’t say anything. Again, Bucky thinks it’s nice that Steve shelled out for an uber black.


The manbraid, Bucky now knows, is the new manbun. Or at least that’s what Natasha assures him of when she promptly shoves him down so that she can craft his hair into a sort of faux-updo. It’s actually… kind of Bucky’s jam, come to find out. He likes being edgy, and never let it be said he isn’t an extrovert complete attention whore. He is. So his hair looks like a rock star/Viking and he adds a little bit of understated eyeliner to the look—partly because he knows it’ll get him hit on twice as much tonight, and partly because he wants to see Clint’s hilarious reaction when he gets a look at him.

Clint gapes and makes a comment about his own sexuality, which is funny and makes Natasha smack him. Clint’s dressed nice but pretty normally, and Natasha is wearing jeans and a PVC corset that reminds Bucky a little too much of the angry lesbian porn she and Clint have an appreciation for.

They pregame for half an hour, then head out. With an air of excitedness and vodka hidden on each of their persons (because wherever they’re going is sure to have overpriced drinks), they pile into a cab and let Natasha give directions to the driver. It’s a nightclub that Bucky’s never heard of, in an iffy part of town but with a line out the door. When they get there, Natasha makes them follow her to the bouncers, skipping the line and earning a lot of glares from the waiting patrons. Bucky avoids their gazes and watches as Natasha speaks to one of the bouncers in Russian, smiling prettily and cocking her hip. The big man nods at her and says something back in Russian, and Bucky is as impressed as ever as they’re let in through the doors, no bribe or cover fee paid. He shares a wide-eyed look with Clint and tells him, Your girlfriend is hot shit.

Clint grins because Bucky’s signed it behind Nat’s back and would never if she was looking at them. I know, right? he signs back.

Inside, it’s another world. The club is hot and loud, throbbing with music and the press of too many bodies. Bucky loves it. He pulls out his flask and throws back a swallow, gritting his teeth at the burn. It’s awful, cheap liquor—nothing like the liquid gold Steve serves him—but Nat and Clint take pulls from theirs as well and then the three of them proceed to get lost in the beat of the loud music. Bucky feels his muscles unbunch and his body become fluid, one stranger sliding up to dance behind him and then another. He spares each of them a quick glance, just to be sure they’re not hideous, but beyond that it honestly doesn’t matter. Bucky’s an even bigger slut on the dancefloor than he is in the bedroom. He’ll grind up against anybody who knows how to move their hips right.

The guy he’s got right now fits the bill just fine. He’s not much to look at but he’s built broad and has nice, thick hands that hold Bucky’s hips as they sway. The song switches over to another, and the lights change colors, flashing red and pink to blue and purple. In front of Bucky, Nat gives a ‘woot!’, throwing her head back and laughing into the noise as Clint holds her close from behind. He’s moving their bodies in time with the beat. Bucky grins, knowing that the music’s so damned loud that there’s no way Clint can’t feel every note. Bucky hums, letting his eyes slip shut as he allows his current stranger to rock their hips in a rhythm. It’s nice, he thinks, smiling with his eyes closed. Here, he doesn’t have to think about important things. He can just float in sea of bodies and music…

But then the stranger is yelling in his ear, and it’s like a fly that won’t go away. Bucky wants to swat out at him. “What?!” he screams back over his shoulder. The guy puts his lips even closer to Bucky’s ear and yells,

“Do you want to get a drink?!”

Bucky considers, then nods. “Yeah!” Because free alcohol is cool.

The bar is sticky and crowded, and Bucky waits off to the side while the guy gets them drinks. He’s vaguely surveying the other prospects in the room, trying to see who his next dance partner might be, when he notices that Nat and Clint are chatting up some pink-haired chick. Nat’s whispering in her ear from behind while Clint smiles sheepishly and signs. Bucky laughs and winces, knowing exactly what that must be about.

“Hey! Here ya go!” Bucky’s stranger has returned and he’s holding out Bucky’s Blue Crush.

“Thanks!” He eyes the flashing plastic ice cube at the bottom with a raised eyebrow. Impressive. This guy must think he’s getting laid. Eh, he might be. Bucky wraps his lips around the straw and sips while he eyes the man up and down. He’s got a rugged face—maybe a little too rugged, his jaw a little over-pronounced, but his eyes are pretty. Not blue, Bucky thinks despondently. He’s older than Bucky but not as old as Steve. He’s built strong but stocky, definitely shorter than Steve and not as well—

Bucky flinches, realizing that he’s comparing everything about this guy to Steve. He sucks harder on the straw and scolds himself for the comparisons, feeling mulish. This is Bucky’s time, goddamnit. He’s going to enjoy himself. He’s not going to think about Steve or worry about Steve or compare out. No, no, no. He’s gonna… he’s gonna…

He’s gonna think about whatever this lunkhead’s name is. He pulls off his drink, licks his lips and yells, “What’s your name?!”


“What’s your name?!!”

“Greg!” The guy grins. “What’s yours?!”

Bucky tells him and they suck down their drinks in record time to go back out on the dance floor. Greg gets right back behind him and dances with Bucky for a long time, until eventually he’s phased out by someone handsier (and hey, Bucky’s not complaining because this guy’s better looking). Bucky gets that guy to buy him a drink too, and between that and the vodka he’s got stashed in his jeans, he’s exactly, appropriately drunk.

The guy dancing behind him spins him around and slots a thigh between Bucky’s legs for him to grind up on. Bucky does. He wraps his arms around his neck. The guy grins, reaches into his pocket and produces a little pill, showing it to Bucky. It’s got a smiley face on it and Bucky knows what it is right away. He watches as the guy pointedly puts it on his tongue, eyes glued to Bucky’s. His eyes clearly say, You wanna? and Bucky finds himself nodding before he knows what’s what. He lets the guy kiss him and dip into his mouth, delivering the pill in a filthy swipe of tongue.

Several songs later, and Bucky starts to feel it. Several songs after that, and he really feels it. He dances, the Molly guy disappearing but being replaced by someone else, and Bucky’s head is swimming, processing less thought and instead just thrumming with the music and flashing lights, feeling pleasure from warm bodies and not worrying about important and confusing relationship decisions. He stops thinking so much about Steve, which is a relief. Natasha and Clint dance back into sight again, this time with the pink-haired girl sandwiched between them, and the beat goes on.


Ugh, Bucky’s too drunk.

He’s gone outside, giddy and overheated and half-convinced he’s going to get an uber home. The latest guy who’s been dancing with him has followed him out, probably thinking he’s going to get laid. Bucky doesn’t think he wants that, but he’s feeling super lovey and silly so he doesn’t shoot him down, not yet. He likes the feeling of the guy’s mauling hands on him, his unskilled lips at his neck. Bucky pulls out his phone and thumbs in the password successfully after a few failed attempts. He’s scrolling through the apps, trying to find the Lyft icon, when he suddenly gets a wonderful, unbearably hilarious idea.

He’ll call Steve! Steve is so sexy and possessive, he’ll positively hate it if Bucky calls and tells him how turned on he is with this stranger at his back. Bucky grins widely, thinking that it’s crazy and a great idea. He imagines how Steve could fuck him up against the wall the next time they’re together, or maybe just right down on the floor, dominant and pissed off and maybe even slapping Bucky’s face. Bucky giggles.

“What’s so funny?” the guy asks, still kissing Bucky’s neck.

“Mm, I’m gonna call my Steve,” Bucky says.

The guy snorts. “Steve? Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

“No!” Bucky pouts, squirming under the guy’s hold. Steve’s not his boyfriend. He’s not. He’s his… his… Bucky’s lips slide sideways in a grin. He pulls up Steve’s number and hits the call icon. He holds the phone to his ear, trying not to giggle as the guy behind him continues to touch and kiss him.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice comes over the line after the first two rings. He sounds confused, as if he’s been sleeping.

Bucky pulls the phone away from his ear to see the time. 2 A.M. He laughs and brings the phone back. “Hi Steve!” he says.

“You called him?” the guy behind Bucky says. He’s laughing as if he thinks it’s funny. “Say hi to your boyfriend for me.”

Bucky squirms, annoyed at the guy for interrupting him. “Quiet,” he tells him.

“Bucky, what’s going on? Who’s voice that?”

Bucky tries to pay attention to Steve and not the guy behind him. “It’s just some guy,” he says. “Steeve, what’re you doing? I miss you!”

“It’s two in the morning,” Steve says, and now his voice is sounding less relaxed, which Bucky doesn’t like. “Are you still out with Natasha and Clint?”

“No.” Bucky blows air through his teeth. “They found someone to have a threesome with and I’ve just got this guy.”

The guy snorts and squeezes Bucky’s hips, pretending to be upset about that. “Hey! What’s that about, huh? Hang up and let’s get outta here.”

“Bucky, are you still out?” Steve sounds very concerned.

“Yeah, I—”

“I said hang up!” the guy grumps, and Bucky scowls at him over his shoulder.

“I’m talking to Steve!”

“Who the fuck is Steve?!”

“He’s my super-hot boyfriend who spanks me better than you ever could!” Bucky snaps, seriously annoyed at his stranger and just wanting him to go away now so that Bucky can talk to Steve and maybe get a cab home and fall asleep. “Go away,” he mumbles at him.

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice over the line again. Bucky tries to pay attention. “Are there a lot of people around you right now?”

Bucky looks around. He’s standing at the curb just down the street from the club. “Mmhm,” he says.

“What street are you on?”

“Psh, I don’t know.” Bucky laughs. “There’s some club. S’called…” he glances over to the building’s neon sign. “Danse. Ugh, that’s just lazy. Steeeve they’re running out of names.”

“Tell whoever that is to leave you alone and don’t move from where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

There’s silence, and a second later Bucky hears the call cut off. He pulls his phone back with a scowl. “Rude.”

“Hey, what’s up, huh? You still want to get out of here?” The stranger asks.

Bucky flicks his eyes to him. The guy looks impatient, but more importantly, he doesn’t seem nearly as attractive as he had a few minutes ago. Bucky shakes his head. “Mmmn. I don’t. Go away.” Steve had said to tell him to go away, but Bucky tells himself he’s not doing it because of that. He’s just tired, is all. …And he feels lonely for Steve all of a sudden.

The stranger gets really angry looking, but at least he doesn’t try to grab Bucky or shove him or anything. He walks away with a comment about Bucky being a cocktease, or some such, but Bucky doesn’t care. He’s just glad to have gotten rid of the guy. He turns back to the street, watching as cars pull up once and awhile and pick up drunk and messy patrons from the club. Bucky hopes he doesn’t look like them—all drunk and disheveled from a night of partying. Not that he would mind being that way, he just doesn’t want Steve to see him like that. He bites his lip and zones out for a little bit.

He’s about to pull up the Lyft app and just get himself home that way, but before he can, a black car is pulling up to the curb right in front of him. Bucky looks up, surprised. “Oh,” he murmurs. It’s Steve’s Bugatti, and fuck but it looks expensive. The tinted passenger window rolls down, and there’s Steve, looking over from the driver’s seat and looking none-too-happy. “Get in,” he says. At least his voice is calm. Bucky swallows, and does.

Chapter Text

Bucky does not know what to say. He spends the majority of the car ride squirming in his seat and sneaking surreptitious glances at Steve. Steve just stares out the window. But he doesn’t look mad, Bucky thinks. That makes him feel better. Yeah, Steve isn’t mad at him. He told Bucky to have a fun time with Clint and Nat. Steve is just taking care of him.

“Steeeve,” Bucky says, hyper from the Molly and silly from the booze. “Steeeve.”


Bucky grins. He reaches to slide his hand over Steve’s thigh. “Thanks for getting me,” he says.

Steve grunts. “You’re welcome, Buck. I didn’t want you to be in danger.”

Bucky blows air between his teeth. “I wasn' in danger. I just missed you!”

Steve’s eyes dart over, then he looks back out the windshield. “You were obviously drunk and alone. The guy who was with you sounded annoyed.”

Bucky grins, thrilled that maybe Steve is jealous. “Was just some guy,” he says. On Steve’s thigh, he squeezes his hand. “Are you jealous, Steve?”

“I was worried.”

Bucky frowns, unhappy because he’s not getting the reaction he was hoping for. He pouts, pulling his hand back. “M’fine,” he says. “I woulda been fine.”

“Were you going to take him home?” Steve asks, voice controlled and still not looking at Bucky. Something about that makes Bucky feel bad.

“I… no,” Bucky says.

Steve nods, firm. “Good. It would’ve been very irresponsible of you, since you’d been drinking.”

Suddenly, annoyance sweeps through Bucky. “I could if I wanted to,” he says. “You’re not the boss of me.” He folds his arms and sits back further in the seat, averting his eyes. “I’m allowed to drink, Steve. I do it at your house plenty. And I can do Molly too if I want.”

Steve makes a quiet noise over in his seat, and when Bucky glances his way, he sees that Steve’s fingers have tightened on the wheel. “You were doing drugs?” Steve asks. And oh, he’s not happy.

Bucky scowls. “S’not drugs. It’s Molly.”

Steve nods tersely. “So you’re drunk and high, and you were going to take some stranger home.”

Bucky gapes. He thought it’d be fun, telling Steve about it, but hearing it from Steve’s lips now it just makes him embarrassed. …And that makes him mad. He huffs and looks out the passenger window. He focuses on the city passing by, feeling mulish. He’s quiet for a long time after that, but he does mutter again, “You’re not the boss of me.”

Disappointingly, Steve just stays quiet.


Steve pulls the car into the tiny garage at his house, and Bucky follows him inside, stumbling a little but confident that Steve doesn’t notice. In the kitchen, Steve tosses his keys and wallet onto the counter. He sighs heavily, like he’s tired. For the first time, Bucky notices that Steve’s wearing pajama pants. He bites his lip, realizing that Steve probably had to wake up to come and get him. Guilt sweeps through Bucky. “Sorry,” he says, the word coming out quieter than he intends. “M’sorry you had to come get me.”

Steve turns around and looks at him. “I’ll always come get you, Bucky. I’m not mad at you for calling me.”

Oh. That makes Bucky feel better. It makes happy warmth pool in his gut. Steve takes good care of him, he thinks. He smiles and steps closer to Steve, putting himself right up against the front of his body and rubbing his face against his chest. Steve’s arms wrap around and settle at the small of his back. “Mm,” Bucky says, “You’re kind of my hero now, aren’t you?”

Steve snorts. “You bet your ass I am.” He rubs one hand up and down Bucky’s back. “Buck, what you did was so unsafe.”

Bucky hums, “I’m okay. It was fun.” He thinks about it, giggling at the memory of dancing against all those hard, sweaty bodies. “Steeeve,” he says, rubbing against him. “I’m horny.”


Bucky rubs his face against his chest and reaches down to cup Steve through his pajama pants. Disappointingly, he’s not hard. Bucky is. He grinds his hips against Steve’s leg and rubs his hand over his crotch. “Want you to fuck me,” he says. He squirms in Steve’s hold, trying to get closer to him and kiss at his neck. But Steve holds him back. Bucky whines in frustration and looks up at him. “Steeeve, I said—”

“I heard what you said,” Steve says. “I’m not going to have sex with you Bucky.”

Bucky frowns, not liking that at all. But Steve looks so serious. “Why not?” he whines.

“Because you’re very drunk and you’re high. You can’t consent like this.” Steve looks him up and down critically. “You’re a mess, Buck. Slurring your words and walking unsteady.” His one hand comes up and he swipes underneath Bucky’s eye with a thumb, ostensibly wiping away some of the smeared eyeliner he’d put on. “Never seen you wear makeup,” he says, and for the first time there’s the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

Bucky loves that. He grins. “Yeah I did,” he says. “And Nat did my hair.” He can kind of feel how it’s gone all loose and messy in places, but he hopes it looks at least a little like he remembers it from earlier in the night. “I’m sexy,” he says.

Steve snorts, which is embarrassing and makes Bucky blush. “Baby boy, you are anything but sexy right now.”

Buck’s scowls. “What?! I am so!” He grabs Steve’s face and pulls him into a forceful kiss, sticking his tongue in his mouth right away and grinding his hips forward. Steve makes a surprised noise into his mouth, and Bucky hums and pulls back. He meets Steve’s eyes. “Want you to fuck me now. C’mon. Pleease?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, Buck. You can’t consent, and even if you could, I’m definitely not rewarding you with sex right now.”

Bucky stares for a minute, slow to process Steve’s words because he’s so drunk. “What?” he asks, frowning.

Steve takes his hand and starts leading him toward the stairs, taking him upstairs and to the guest bedroom. “Your behavior tonight was unacceptable, Bucky,” he tells him. In the bedroom, he pushes him by the shoulders to sit down on the bed.

Bucky goes, feeling pissy. He watches, annoyed, as Steve goes and pulls a big tee shirt out of the room’s dresser. Bucky scowls. Steve can’t tell him what’s acceptable and what’s not. He was just having fun! Steve’s just a bossy old fart who won’t fuck him! He glares up at Steve. “My behavior’s fine,” he says.

“Take off your clothes and put this on to sleep in,” Steve says, tone flat.

Bucky yanks the teeshirt from Steve’s hand but doesn’t move to undress. “You’re not the boss of me,” he says.

Steve’s lips purse. “You’ve mentioned that, already.”

“We don’t have a contract!” Bucky snaps, irrationally annoyed at how calm Steve is. How dare he treat Bucky like this; like some stupid kid who can’t drink and have fun, who can’t decide when he wants to get fucked? Bucky’s so horny, and he’s mad at Steve for not giving him what he wants. Maybe he’s even mad at him for pointing out his mistakes, for being right. Bucky shakes his head to get that last consideration to go away. He pulls his shirt off and throws it to the floor, observing Steve and how he watches the tee shirt fall dispassionately in a messy ball. Bucky waits for Steve to tell him to pick it up, but all Steve does is raise an eyebrow—briefly, and then it goes back down. He looks at Bucky, waiting. Bucky huffs. He stands up and takes off his jeans and underwear and kicks them away. Steve’s eyes go up and down his body once, and Bucky smirks. He gets into Steve’s space again, pleased when he isn’t pushed away. Might as well give it another shot, he thinks. “C’mon Daddy,” he purrs, trying to make the word Daddy sound extra enticing. “M’all wound up and wanna feel good. Need you to take care of me. Don’t make me jerk off.” He leans forward to kiss Steve’s lips and then says against them, “Take care of me.”

Steve kisses him once, then uses a gentle grip on his braid to pull him back. Bucky whines in protest. “I am taking care of you, Bucky,” he says. “And if you really want to be my boy, then you’ll do what I’m asking you to do and you’ll go to bed. You need to sleep this off, then we can talk in the morning.”

Bucky groans, because that sounds so awful. “M'gonna jerk off anyway,” he grumbles.

“That’s fine. We can talk about that in the morning, too.”

God damn Steve and his fucking level-headedness! Bucky can’t take anymore of his condescending, calm demeanor. He surges in and crashes their mouths together, fierce and insistent. He grabs the sides of Steve’s face when he tries to pull away, too; keeping him there so that he can kiss him, so that he can show him that this is what he wants, what he needs; show him that he’s not that drunk, he’s… he’s…

Bucky jerks back from Steve’s face as he feels a wave of nausea roll through him, sudden and unexpected. For one quick second, his fearful eyes meet Steve’s and then he’s lurching to the side and vomiting all the contents of his stomach onto the floor. It hits his jeans, which is regrettable. Especially since everything’s the color of Blue Crush.

Bucky groans, closing his eyes and feeling defeated. “Oh, shit,” he whispers. “Steve, m’sorry.”

Steve sighs, and then his hands are under Bucky’s arms, pulling him up. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He takes Bucky into the guest bathroom and makes him sit on the toilet while he wipes off his face with a wet washcloth, then hands him water to swish and spit. He makes him take two Advil capsules and he takes out the elastic from Bucky’s hair, unbraids and brushes it until it’s all untangled. “There’s a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet,” he tells him. “Use that and then get into bed, okay?”

Bucky nods, feeling cowed. He’d embarrassed himself so badly. He wishes he could turn back time. “Okay,” he says quietly. “M’sorry.”

“I’m going to go clean up your... I'm gonna clean up, alright? Then I’m going to my room to sleep.” He looks at Bucky pointedly. “Can you listen to me and stay in here?”

Bucky nods. “I—yeah. Yeah I can.”

“Good boy.”

Somehow, the 'Good boy' helps.


It takes Steve a long time to fully wake up and realize that it’s his phone that’s annoying the hell out of him. He swipes out for it on the nightstand and looks at the screen. It’s Bucky calling, he sees with a lurch, and it’s two am. He picks up the call and says, “Bucky?” His voice is croaky from sleep.

Bucky laughs on the other end of the line, then he says, “Hi Steve!” very loudly.

Steve winces at the volume. There’s another voice that he can hear, someone who’s with Bucky and speaking to him. It sound like a man. Steve frowns when he hears Bucky snap at them to be quiet. “Bucky?” he checks. “What’s going on? Whose voice is that?”

“It’s jussome guy,” Bucky says blithely. “Steeve, what’re you doing? I miss you!”

He’s slurring his words a little and sounds childish over the phone, and Steve starts to get a prickle of nervousness at the back of his neck. He needs to make sure Bucky’s safe, and Bucky calling him drunk in the middle of the night with a stranger arguing in the background isn’t safe. “It’s two in the morning,” he says. “Are you still out? With Natasha and Clint?” Please, let him be with Natasha and Clint.

“No. They found someone to have a threesome with and I’ve just got /this/ guy.”

Steve feels the worry grow drastically, and with it there’s a twinge of possessiveness. He hates the idea of Bucky being out with someone else. And he’s got no idea where Bucky is right now, has no control over the situation. He hates that more. “Bucky, are you still out?” Bucky wouldn’t be dumb enough to take a stranger home when he’s drunk, would he?

“Yeah, I—”

“I /said/, hang up!”, the other voice yells, and Steve’s hand tightens on the phone at the guy’s tone. He listens as Bucky yells back at the guy, and they start arguing. Bucky yells at him that Steve is his hot boyfriend and spanks him really good, but Steve is too worried now to spend much time enjoying the compliment.

“Bucky,” he says, trying to make his voice as serious as he can so that Bucky will pay attention. He has to make sure that Bucky doesn’t let the guy get him alone. “Are there a lot of people around you right now?”


At Steve’s prompting, Bucky’s able to tell him the name of the club he’s nearby (Steve ascertains that he’s on the sidewalk outside). Huffing, he slides out of his bed and slips a pair of shoes on. It’s as he’s grabbing up his keys and his wallet that he says to Bucky, “Tell whoever that is to leave you alone and don’t move from where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

He ends the call and is in his car and speeding away in no time, anxiety prickling uncomfortably beneath his skin.


A drive that should take twenty minutes winds up taking ten, and Steve sees Bucky right away, standing on the sidewalk with a far-off gaze. He’s alone, which makes Steve exhale in relief. He pulls up to the curb and rolls down the passenger window, trying hard not to let his anxiety show. “Get in,” he says, keeping his voice even. Inside, he’s warring, equal parts relieved and angry. He’s found Bucky safe, but he’d been unsafe only minutes ago, and Steve can’t stand that.

Bucky gets in the car and proceeds to drunkenly come on to him and argue with him, and then he tells Steve he was doing ecstasy as well, which pisses Steve off worse. He has to grip the steering wheel tighter and focus on his driving to keep from yelling at Bucky. That won’t do any good, he knows, especially not right now, with Bucky drunk and high. He just lets Bucky talk and keeps silent himself for the rest of the drive.

At home, Steve walks silently into the kitchen, dumping his keys onto the counter. He’s got Bucky back home with him, safe. He should be satisfied, but…

“M’sorry,” Bucky says from behind. “I’m sorry you had to come get me.”

Steve sighs, then he turns around and looks at Bucky; sees how contrite he looks. Steve feels like he has to tell him, “I’ll always come get you, Bucky. I’m not mad at you for calling me.” It’s true. He’s not mad at him for that. If Bucky’s ever going to be a stupid shit and put himself in danger, then Steve at least wants to know that he can trust him to call out for help, when he needs it. Steve doesn’t miss how relief floods over Bucky’s face at his words, and he doesn’t miss how in the next few seconds his features turn flirty and appreciative. Steve mentally raises an eyebrow as Bucky sidles up in front of him and starts rubbing against him. Despite his better judgement, Steve lets his hands settle at Bucky’s lower back, holding him there. Even now, mad at Bucky, he can’t deny how much he wants him. Bucky calls him his hero, and Steve scoffs. “You bet your ass I am.” He rubs one hand up and down Bucky’s back. “Buck, what you did was so unsafe.” He wants to get the message across, wants Bucky to realize

“I’m okay. It was fun.” Bucky giggles. “Steeeve,” he says, rubbing against him. “I’m horny.”

Oh god. No, Steve cannot go there. He isn’t going to let himself. “Buck—” He cuts off with a sharp inhale as Bucky cups him through his pajama pants and starts rubbing him. Steve can feel how Bucky’s grinding his own erection against his thigh.

“Want you to fuck me,” he says, and fuck but his tone is needy just the way Steve likes it. Bucky squirms harder, trying to get closer, but Steve somehow manages to firm his resolve and hold him back. Bucky whines in frustration and looks up at him. “Steeeve, I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m not going to have sex with you Bucky.”

It’s near theatrical, how fast Bucky’s face falls. “Why not?” he whines.

“Because you’re very drunk and you’re high. You can’t consent like this.” Steve looks him up and down critically, noting his mussed hair that’s sticking out of its style in places, his smeared makeup. He actually looks like he’s been recently fucked. Steve would be much more tempted by it all, if Bucky wasn’t half as drunk as he is. As it is, he’s clearly wasted. Aside from the way he smells, he’s been stumbling ever since they got out of the car, eyes glossy and smile lopsided. Steve says so, telling him, “You’re a mess.” All he can think of is that he needs to take care of Bucky now; needs to get him cleaned up and in bed.

Bucky starts bragging about how he’s sexy, and it’s cute and all, but Steve needs to let him know that he isn’t impressed. He can’t reward this sort of behavior. Bucky needs to learn. “Baby boy, you are anything but sexy right now,” he says. It’s not that bad, but he lets Bucky think it is. He sees Bucky’s face shutter in embarrassment, and then anger.

“What?! I am so!” He grabs Steve’s face and pulls him into a forceful kiss, sticking his tongue in his mouth right away and grinding his hips forward. Steve makes a surprised noise into his mouth, trying to pull away and gain control. “Want you to fuck me now,” Bucky’s saying. “C’mon. Pleease?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, Buck. You can’t consent, and even if you could, I’m definitely not rewarding you with sex right now.”

Bucky stares for a minute, clearly slow to process Steve’s words because he’s so drunk. Steve waits while he figures it out. “What?”

Steve takes him upstairs and into the guest bedroom, determined to start getting him settled before Bucky can raise too much of a fuss. “Your behavior tonight was unacceptable, Bucky,” he tells him. He makes him sit on the bed and opens the dresser, grabbing one of his bigger tee shirts and giving it to Bucky, ignoring him when he grumps that his behavior is fine. “Put it on,” Steve commands.

Bucky snatches the tee shirt angrily. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Oh, that stings. Steve doesn’t like it, not one bit. He has to clench his jaw to avoid saying anything inappropriate, like the hell I’m not. That won’t do now, he can tell just from Bucky’s attitude. “You’ve mentioned that, already,” he says gruffly.

“We don’t have a contract!”

God, But Steve would like to spank him right now. He just watches dispassionately as Bucky strips and pointedly throws his clothes into a messy pile on the floor. Steve doesn’t take the bait. He does, however, let his eyes do a quick scan over Bucky’s body. He’s only human, after all.

“C’mon Daddy,” Bucky purrs, getting in Steve’s space and and kissing him.

It does things to Steve’s insides, to hear Bucky saying sweet things and asking to be taken care of. That’s all Steve really wants, is to just take care of him. What that entails right now, unfortunately, is not the sex Bucky’s asking for. Steve affords him one, brief kiss, then pulls on his hair to force him back. “I am taking care of you, Bucky,” he tells him. “And if you really want to be my boy, then you’ll do what I’m asking you to do and you’ll go to bed. You need to sleep this off, then we can talk in the morning.” Steve watches as Bucky reacts with disappointment.

“M'gonna jerk off anyway,” he grumbles.

Brat. “That’s fine. We can talk about that in the morning, too.” Steve isn’t going to tell Bucky he can’t touch himself tonight. That isn’t a rule they’ve instituted, and right when Bucky’s trashed is not the time to try and negotiate. He’s about to tell Bucky this, but before he can, Bucky’s kissing him again—this time roughly and without any skill. Steve grunts, surprised and ready to push Bucky away, but Bucky pulls away first, suddenly retching and lurching away from him. Thank god, too, because in the very next second he starts throwing up all over the floor. Steve watches with a mixture of disgust and pity.

“Oh, shit. Steve, m’sorry.”

Steve sighs, bending to pull him up. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He takes Bucky into the guest bathroom and makes him sit on the toilet while he wipes off his face with a wet washcloth, then hands him water to swish and spit. He makes him take two Advil capsules and he takes out the elastic from Bucky’s hair, unbraiding it and brushing it with his fingers until it’s all untangled. Bucky doesn’t protest any of it, which is a relief. “There’s a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet,” he tells him. “Use that and then get into bed, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky says quietly.

He looks embarrassed, which is mildly endearing, but Steve is honestly just too tired to do this for much longer. He looks at Bucky seriously. “I’m going to go clean up your… I’m gonna clean up, alright? Then I’m going to my room to sleep.” He looks at Bucky pointedly. “Can you listen to me and stay in here?”

Bucky nods. “I—yeah. Yeah I can.”

Steve nods. He can tell that Bucky means it, so he rewards him with a gentle, “Good boy,” and gets a little satisfaction at the fact that Bucky clearly loves the words. Bucky hasn’t been a good boy tonight, not at all, but Steve can’t do anything about it while he’s still drunk. In fact, he can’t do anything about it at all. Bucky’s right: they haven’t agreed on anything.

Steve resolves to change that in the morning.


Steve glances at the clock on his laptop when he hears Bucky’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Seven o’clock. He sets the computer aside and pulls his tea closer, sipping at it and trying to act nonchalant as Bucky rounds the corner, coming into view.

He’s messy, but not in the same way he’d been last night. This time he’s clean, at least. He’s got sleepy, squinty eyes. He’s dressed in Steve’s own tee shirt and his loose hair is sticking up on one side. He’s got the barest shadow of stubble on his face. Steve feels the warmth of fondness flare in his chest, the sight of Bucky like this doing something to him. It’s domestic, he realizes, and that’s what he likes about it. This is what Bucky would look like every morning if he lived here, if he belonged to Steve. Steve swallows a sip of tea and sets the mug aside.

“Good morning,” he says. “How did you sleep?”

Bucky winces and makes some sort of grunt which clearly means that he’s slept like shit. Steve can’t blame him, he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours, at best. “My head hurts,” he says, voice little more than a croak.

Steve isn’t surprised. He slides the cup of orange juice he’s already poured across the counter, along with the Advil bottle. “Take two,” he says. Bucky obeys, and Steve waits until all the juice is gone before he pushes an even taller glass of electrolyte water across the counter. “This too,” he says. “It’ll help.” He’ll never tell Bucky this, but he’d gotten up at six am just so that he could sneak out to the nearest corner store and purchase the juice and water for Bucky’s hangover. He doesn’t want to see his boy hurting, at least not in that way. Once Bucky has finished the water Steve tells him, “I want you to go back to bed. You were up late last night. You need at least a couple more hours of sleep.”

Bucky stares at him. “I am in college you know. We don’t sleep that much.”

Steve smirks. “Don’t argue with me. I want you well-rested for what we’re going to do today.” He watches as Bucky’s eyes widen, his expression becoming interested and yet a little wary too.

“What are we doing?”

Steve shakes his head and points towards the stairs. “Go back to bed. I’ll come and get you in a few hours.”

Bucky looks like he’s going to argue, like he’ll try and demand to know what it is Steve has planned for him, but surprisingly he doesn’t. He becomes submissive, tucking his lips in and lowering his eyes as he nods. “Kay,” he murmurs, and then he turns around and heads for the stairs like a little, dejected puppy. Steve’s heart clenches.

“Good boy,” he calls out loud enough for Bucky to hear; a teeny, tiny reward for good behavior. Hopefully, it makes Bucky feel a little bit better.


When eleven o ‘clock rolls around and Bucky hasn’t come downstairs, Steve goes up to wake him. Bucky’s eyes are much less bleary when he blinks up at Steve, and Steve smiles down at him. “Feel any better?” he asks.

Bucky nods slowly, timid. “I… yeah. The medicine helped. And the water. Thank you.”

Steve nods. “You’re welcome, baby boy.” Bucky blushes and Steve smiles. “Come on downstairs when you’re ready. We’re going to talk.” If Bucky gets nervous at those words, Steve doesn’t know. He’s turning from the room right away, heading downstairs to make another cup of tea and turn on the printer.

Bucky appears several minutes later. He’s put on a pair of Steve’s pajama pants, and that with the overly large tee-shirt makes possessiveness flare pleasantly in Steve’s chest. “You look better,” he says. Bucky’s brushed his hair back into the elastic again, and he’s washed his face it seems like. He looks awake now, at least.

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbles, shuffling his feet. “I feel better. Thanks.”

Steve hums. “There’s a cup of tea there for you, and some toast.” Bring those into the living room, okay?”

Bucky bites his lip and nods. “Kay.”

Steve leaves to go sit on the couch and wait for him.

When Bucky comes into the living room, toast and tea in hand, he looks between the couch and the arm chair, as if he isn’t sure where he should sit. Steve pats the couch next to himself. “C’mere.”

Bucky seems relieved at the permission to sit close, and he hurries over, setting the tea on the coffee table and keeping the toast as he curls up on the couch. “Hey,” he says.

“Eat,” Steve commands. He waits until Bucky’s listened before he speaks. “I was very upset with you last night. Both with how you behaved, and with the fact that you put yourself in danger. You know that, right?”

Bucky nods, looking ashamed. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“You got angry with me, when I scolded you,” Steve points out. “You kept saying how I wasn’t the boss of you, how we didn’t have a contract and I couldn’t tell you what to do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You're right; we don't have a contract. And I feel like I’m the one who should be apologizing. I think I pushed the twenty four-seven idea too soon. You weren’t ready and you got defensive, acted out.”

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky looks alarmed at that. He looks up at him with wide eyes. “What? No! I… I mean…” he pauses, thinking for a moment before admitting, “I really like it,” he says. “The, um, the idea of being yours all the time.”

“You do?” Steve tries not to get his hopes up. He needs to remain level-headed. “Remember: I never want you to say you’re okay with something just to please me, Bucky. I—”

“I’m not!” Bucky interrupts. “I swear, I’m not. I mean…” he blushes, averting his eyes to his toast. “I guess I was a little afraid at first. Or maybe… maybe intimidated. It’s not something I’ve done before.” He peeks up at Steve. “Not even close. I’ve never been that involved with anybody. And with you it just feels like… like more. I didn’t know what to do with that.” He shrugs, looking embarrassed as he admits, “So yeah, I guess I did act up last night; did things I wouldn’t normally do, or at least took it further than I normally would.” He grimaces. “And I definitely shouldn’t have called you to rub your face in it. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Steve says right away, voice firm. “No Bucky, don’t apologize for that. I’m so, so glad you called me, okay? I always want you to call me if you’re in a situation like that. You did the right thing. Tell me you understand.”

Bucky bites his lip, but he does nod, saying quietly. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, tell me a little more about the twenty four-seven idea. Did it just scare you, or did it make you feel other things as well?”

“Oh.” Bucky blushes. “Yeah, it um… I liked it. I liked thinking about being yours all the time.”

Steve smiles gently at him. “Yeah?” Bucky nods and Steve is so, so glad. “That’s good, baby boy. That makes me happy. I really want to have more control over you, so I’m glad you think you could try.”

“I know I can,” Bucky corrects, firm. “I’m sorry I acted up, okay? But please don’t think it means I don’t want to try things with you. I do.”

Oh, but that makes Steve happy. “Good,” he says. “I’m really proud of you for being so honest, you know that?”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah. Thank you, Sir.”

Steve inhales sharply. “You like that huh? Calling me Sir?”

“Yeah. Or… Daddy.”

Steve groans internally, arousal flashing in him at those words. “God, Bucky. The things I want to do to you.” He moves closer to Bucky and takes the plate of toast from his hands. “You’re not eating,” he says. He puts the plate in his own lap and tears off a piece, bringing it to Bucky’s lips. Bucky looks surprised, but he quickly parts his lips and allows Steve to feed the piece to him. “Good,” Steve praises. “We need to talk about it, if we’re going to go forward. We need to establish some rules.”

Bucky chews the toast, swallows. “A contract?” he asks.

“Yeah, a contract.” Steve tears off another piece and brings it to Bucky’s lips. “Open.” Bucky does. “I sat down here this morning and typed out a list of things I’d want in a more structured arrangement. I printed it out.” He feeds Bucky another piece of toast. “I want you to take it home and read over it, then make one of your own. You can put anything you want on it, anything at all. We’ll go over it all together later in the week, see what we both think will work for us. Okay?”

Bucky finishes chewing that last piece of toast before he speaks. “…Okay,” he says, clearly deep in thought. “It’s not, like, legally-binding or anything though, right?”

Steve fights hard not to roll his eyes. Sometimes Bucky is unbearably naïve. “No, Bucky. It’s not. We talked about this before, remember? It’s just a way for us to get our thoughts organized, a way to clearly define our roles in the relationship and what we want. You’ll know what’s expected of you and when, and so will I.” He looks at Bucky meaningfully. “Does that sound good?”

Bucky nods, looking shy but happy. “Yeah. Yeah it sounds really good.”

“Good.” Steve sets the empty toast plate aside and grabs the papers he’d printed out earlier that morning. He hands them to Bucky and says, “Go on, take them. Read them when you get home.”

Bucky does.


The fundamental purpose of our written contract is to allow both of us to explore our sensuality and sexuality, with respect and regard for our needs, limits, and well-being. The rules we agree on are intended for use in all aspects of our daily lives, “24/7”.

Open and frank conversation of our ongoing thoughts or concerns with regards to the contract should always take place. We can amend any part of it at any time, if we both agree. We can stop the arrangement completely, if either or both of us want to. This contract is simply our wants and desires, written down and discussed in a thorough matter. It is meant to be reassuring and to ensure that we get what we want, never restricting or used as a “trap.”

Rules of the relationship:

Everything we do is private and kept between the two of us. If we want to let anyone know about any part of our relationship, we’ll discuss it first.

Emotional and physical monogamy are required from both of us. There will be no additional partners brought temporarily or permanently into the relationship.

We’ll both get tested for STIs and show each other the results. We agree that if either of us ever slips up and is with another person, we’ll be honest and make sure that we’re healthy before resuming sexual activities.

I will be responsible for your well-being and your proper training, guidance, and discipline. I’ll decide the nature of such training, guidance, and discipline and the time and place of its administration, always respecting your limits and safewords.

You will be responsible for serving and obeying me in all things, accepting that the rewards, punishments and discipline that I set out for you are in your best interest. You’ll keep an open mind and be honest in your thoughts and feelings, communicating openly. Without arguing, you will always speak up when you are struggling with an aspect of our relationship, and you will always use your safewords when needed.

You are expected to always be respectful, honest and to treat me as your valued dominant. You’ll call me Sir, Daddy, or Steve.

I’ll call you any of a number of respectful pet names, or Bucky. I will be open and honest and responsible for treating you as a valued submissive.

I’ll expect prompt replies to any of my communications, including texts, email or calls.

You are expected to let me know the general plans for your week, and to inform me of any significant changes. I will command you to change your daily activities as I see fit.

At least two evenings a week will be spent together at my house, engaging in intimacy of our choosing. Once a week, you will come to my house and be exercised in discipline of my choosing.

Twice a month, I will book you an appointment for services at a local spa. You are expected to make proper arrangements to attend these appointments on time and with a good attitude.

You will not drink to excess or do any drugs.

You will not masturbate without specific permission.

You will maintain fairly healthy eating and workout habits and you will always make efforts to maintain your general health and safety. If you are unwilling but I see fit, I will order you to seek specific medical or metal health services.

You will inform me before you make any significant changes to your appearance or your circumstances.

You will continue prioritizing your studies (and upon graduation, your career) and you are responsible for telling me if any aspect of our relationship is impinging on your professional goals.

You are expected to keep a journal to document your experiences, feelings and thoughts regarding our relationship, as well as any evolving limits or kinks you’d like to explore. The journal is for your own reflection and self-discovery and can be kept private, even from me.

As of ___/___/_____ the main dynamic of our relationship is Sir/Daddy and boy/pet. We will endeavor to explore our highest-rated mutual kinks, and to discover which non-sexual activities we both enjoy. Any sexual play involving aspects of humiliation will not include aspects of degradation. Neither of us will ever try to explore the other's "hard limits."

Once a month, we will sit down and formally review this contract, as well as our lists of kinks and limits, making any edits as needed.



Steve Rogers _________________

James Barnes_________________

Chapter Text

The contract sits on Bucky’s bedside table, unsigned but definitely not ignored. He picks it up and reads it occasionally when he wakes up each morning and in the evenings before bed. In the afternoons he uses it as masturbatory material, reading it and then imagining how Steve would treat him in a 24/7 relationship, then jerking himself off. The knowledge that if Bucky signed the contract, Steve wouldn’t let him jerk off without permission just makes him come all the faster. Bucky wants to sign the contract so bad, but he remembers what Steve had asked him to do. Bucky’s supposed to do research, write up his own list of requirements. He’s supposed to be patient because Steve said they wouldn’t discuss it until the end of the week.

Unfortunately, the end of the week isn’t until fucking forever, and Bucky has class with Steve on Tuesday. He sits next to Natasha and tries to pay attention to the interpreter, but it’s hard. Steve has rolled his shirt sleeves up again as he gesticulates at slides of Wakandan tribal masks, and Bucky’s nearly certain he’s doing it on purpose. Steve must’ve figured out how much Bucky fetishizes his hands and forearms. He’s teasing him, Bucky realizes. And rather than annoying him, it has him thickening a little in his pants. Bucky presses one palm punishingly against his crotch while he mimics the interpreter’s sign for vibranium with the other.

Natasha gets his attention from the side and Bucky looks over. She’s got her eyebrow raised. That still going on?

Yeah. Bucky waits for her to tell him off, or scold him or warn him again, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stares down at Steve and eventually signs,

He’s a beefcake, I’ll give you that.

Seriously? Bucky watches her carefully. You’re not going to give me any more shit about it?

She shrugs. There’s no point. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. She eyes him knowingly. I saw those papers you’ve been obsessed with.

You /read/ them?!

Yes. Oh calm down. She rolls her eyes. It’s not like I’m vanilla. Clint and I fuck women together with strap-ons.

“TMI,” Bucky mutters.

You’re getting to know him but I don’t know him at all, she continues. Although… the fact that he brought you home Saturday and didn’t take advantage of you gets him points.

Gee, thanks Mom

I researched him, she says.

Bucky groans, because what that really means is that Natasha illegally hacked some computer system and read over every aspect of Steve’s life that’s ever been digitized. She might as well be a goddamn spy. Bucky sighs. Well you mustn’t have found anything bad, with the way this talk is going.

She purses her lips but doesn’t deny it. “Do you think he’s serious? Think he’ll stick to the contract the way he wrote it? She peers at Bucky carefully. Will he treat you right, Myshka?

Bucky looks back down to the front of the classroom, where Steve is chuckling at some lame joke he’s just made about pre-cubism, and considers him. Yeah, he says, not taking his eyes away. Yeah I think he will.

Steve looks up and catches Bucky’s gaze, and for a split second his eyes go heated and familiar. Just that one second of a look makes Bucky think of all the filthy things Steve has done to him in the past weeks. He flushes hard under that look. But soon Steve blinks and then his face is wiped clean, back to neutral. He continues on with the lecture, and Bucky’s left to waste another class fantasizing.


He takes the bull by the horns that night, sitting down at his desk and opening his laptop to google BDSM contracts. There are a ton of results; links to website upon website, blogs and articles written by people in the kink lifestyle. A lot of it quickly turns Bucky off. The contracts he sees are very, very formal, even strict-sounding. They use language like "the slave", and "the master", and "shall/shall not". There are addendums and appendixes and sometimes even spots for witness signatures. Bucky purses his lips in distaste. The language doesn’t sound like him or Steve, doesn’t sound at all like what they do together, how they are together. Bucky knows this contract will change some aspects of their relationship, but he’s certain he doesn’t want it to change that much. He closes his laptop and pulls Steve’s contract over, rereading it for the hundredth time.

He grabs a pen and starts making edits:

Everything we do is private and kept between the two of us. If we want to let anyone know about any part of our relationship, we’ll discuss it first. ——Nat is a fucking spy; she already knows so Clint does too. I’m allowed to talk to them.

You’ll keep an open mind and be honest in your thoughts and feelings, communicating openly. Without arguing, you will always speak up when you are struggling with an aspect of our relationship, —— That’s not easy for me. You need to prompt me a lot, maybe be forceful.

At least two evenings a week will be spent together at my house, engaging in intimacy of our choosing. ——No way. I need to get dicked at least four times a week.

There’s not much else he can think to edit, but he does jot a note down about how he doesn’t want Steve to control his workouts, his eating or his clothing very much. That’s not sexy or fun, and the thought of being made to eat or dress a certain way makes Bucky very uncomfortable. He knows it’s because of all the times he altered himself without question to suit Brock, but he doesn’t write that down. Steve doesn’t need to know the details.


Steve texts him to meet at his house on Saturday afternoon. When Bucky shows up at his front door, the first thing Steve does is draw him into a gentle hug. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.” It feels nice to be back in Steve’s big arms, against his hard body. Bucky presses his face into his neck, breathing him in. “Missed you,” he murmurs, realizing that it’s very true. He hasn’t spoken with Steve in a week and it’s been hard. He steps back from Steve and holds up the edited contract. “I did what you said. I wrote down what I wanted.”

Steve smiles, pleased. “That’s good, Bucky. Come on, we can relax and discuss it, okay?” He leads Bucky into the house. When they sit together on the couch, Steve holds Bucky comfortingly against his side. “Let’s see,” he says, eyes skimming over the page. “You didn’t write your own,” he notes. “Just edited mine. Does that mean you liked what I came up with?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah. I read a bunch online but the wording was…” he makes a face. “It wasn’t us. I like how you wrote it.”

Steve smiles, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “I’m glad. And I know what you mean—I’ve seen how other people make it really formal.” He goes back to reading the paper, noting what Bucky has written. “Alright,” he says carefully. “You can discuss our relationship with Clint and Natasha, but don’t go into the intimate details, okay?” He looks firmly at Bucky, “That’s for us.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I understand.”

“And as far as talking openly about how things are going for you,” Steve eyes him tenderly, “I can be bossy, if that helps you communicate.” Bucky nods shyly, and then Steve reads on. He laughs out loud at Bucky’s note about needing to get “dicked” at least four times a week. “I suppose I can accommodate that,” he drawls. “But two was my minimum for play. Sex isn’t always play, you know?”

Oh, Bucky hadn’t thought of that. He shrugs. “Okay.” Carefully, he asks, “You uh, you don’t mind what I put about food and clothing and all that?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. If it’s important to you then it needs to be in the contract.” He bends closer and pecks a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you for being honest about that.”

Bucky relaxes, relieved. “You’re welcome,” he says.

Steve prints out a fresh copy with the changes and they both sign it. In a way it feels a little silly, since Bucky knows it’s not legally binding or anything, but it feels good too. He doesn’t feel like he’s making a commitment as he signs it—he feels like he’s opening a door for a whole host of exciting new possibilities. He sets the pen down, turning back to Steve on the couch and grinning. “So it’s official, huh? I’m yours?”

Steve grins. “Twenty-four seven, baby.”

Wow, Bucky thinks. This is going to be crazy.


“You know, you still need to be punished for your behavior last weekend,” Steve informs him over dinner that night.

Bucky freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth. He draws his eyes slowly up to Steve. “What?”

Steve looks at him pointedly. “You went out and purposefully got drunk and high. Dangerously so. You put yourself in a situation where you could have been hurt, maybe badly.”

Bucky gulps. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess so. …You’re still mad about that?” He doesn’t want Steve to be mad at him, hates the idea of it, as a matter of fact. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes soften. He reaches over the table and takes Bucky’s hand in his. “I know you are, honey. And I’m glad that you realize you were wrong. But I told you you’d have to be punished. Do you remember?”

Bucky bites his lip. Honestly, he’d totally forgotten, what with the week of anticipation over the contract. But when he thinks back to the morning after his drunken escapade, he recalls what Steve had said. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

Steve squeezes his hand gently, intimately, and it’s strange and arousing to have that intimate gesture when at the same time he tells him, “You’ll always be punished when I think you deserve it. Even if you think you don’t. Do you trust me to make that decision for you?”

Bucky nods, belly flipping at the gentle dominance in Steve’s tone. “Yes Daddy,” he breathes. “I trust you.”

Steve smiles. “Good boy.”


He takes Bucky up to his bedroom after dinner. He can practically feel the anticipation coming off Bucky, and he pulls him in to press a kiss to his forehead and ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” Bucky says right away. His eyes flick up endearingly. “But… excited.”

“At the idea of it?” Steve asks, knowing that it’s true, and Bucky’s nod confirms it.


“Good.” Steve steers him towards the corner and pushes downwards on his shoulder. “Kneel here, facing the wall,” he tells him. “I’m going to finish up some work and you’re going to think about everything you did last Saturday. I want you to think about why you did it and why it hurt me, okay?”

Bucky whimpers at the wall, but he nods. “Okay.”

“Good.” Steve abandons him to go waste twenty minutes or so


By the time he gets back, Bucky is relaxed in his spot in the corner, his head tipped down. “Bucky?” Steve asks, keeping his voice quiet so as not to startle him.

Bucky’s head lifts back up. “Steve,”

“Stand up for me, Sweetheart,” Steve says, not giving Bucky time to talk. He watches with a sense of satisfaction as Bucky obeys, carefully unfolding his legs and coming up to standing.

“M’sorry,” he repeats, voice sad.

Steve’s heart warms because he can tell from Bucky’s tone that he’d spent the twenty minutes thinking about the things Steve told him to. “I already forgive you, Buck. You just have to take your punishment now, then it can all be over.” He walks up to him and tips his chin up to force him to meet his eyes. “You want that?” Bucky nods, eyes wide and sincere. That look does things to Steve, driving home the reality that this boy trusts him, gets off on the same things that Steve does and wants to submit to him fully. It makes Steve feel almost high, the inherent power that he has over Bucky now. “Okay,” he says softly. “Okay Buck. I want you to undress and fold your clothes nicely. Put them on the dresser and then come over to the bed, okay? I’m going to get some things from the closet for your punishment.”

Bucky bites his lip and nods, the flush in his cheeks blooming pink and beautiful. “Kay,” he says, voice small.

Steve spares a moment to watch as Bucky turns around and starts removing his clothing, revealing his body a little at a time. He’s focusing fully on folding the clothes neatly like Steve had showed him before. It’s enthralling to watch his simple commands being followed, but Steve tears himself away to go and fetch the wedge and a cane from the closet. When he returns with the items, Bucky is fully-naked. Steve pauses to let his eyes rake over him. “God, baby,” he says, feeling heat pool in his gut. “Your sweet body.”

Bucky’s looking at the wedge and the cane. “Oh,” he breathes. “You’re gonna… you’re gonna use that?”

He looks apprehensive to say the least, and Steve makes sure to gentle his expression and nod calmly. “Yeah, I am.” He goes over and arranges the wedge on the bed. It’s a foam triangle that Bucky can lay over and it’ll keep his ass up and available. Bucky won’t have to hold the position; he can just focus on bearing the pain. “Come lay over it,” he tells him, waiting until Bucky has climbed up on the bed and arranged himself correctly, his ass held up and presented by the wedge. Steve steps up close and runs his free hand over the smooth skin of Bucky’s back. “Good. That’s good Bucky. You afraid?” Bucky’s nod isn’t a surprise, and Steve makes a soothing noise to calm him. “It’s going to be okay. I remember what you said about not liking the cane, how you can’t take too much of it.” Bucky nods silently again, and Steve gives his presented ass an affectionate smack with his palm. “That’s why we’re doing this for your punishment,” he tells him. “It’s not supposed to be fun. You won’t like it.”

Bucky whimpers. “Steve,”

“Shh,” Steve says. “What’s your color, honey?”


“Okay.” Steve brings the cane up and starts tapping it ineffectively against the swell of his ass. “Just your backside, okay? I’m not going to hit you anywhere else.” Bucky shivers visibly and Steve adds, “Nine strikes.” When Bucky inhales sharply at that, Steve reminds, “You have to trust me, baby. Trust that I’m doing this for your own good, that it’s what’s best for you.” He stops tapping the cane on Bucky’s ass. “Do you trust me?”

Bucky relaxes after a moment, the tension leaving his back as he exhales. “Yes,” he says, voice soft, accepting.

He enjoys it, Steve realizes. Bucky enjoys the submission of accepting Steve’s will. And fuck, but the idea of the utter trust that Bucky’s placing in him goes straight to Steve’s head …and his cock. He reaches down to adjust himself in his jeans, clearing his throat and getting back to the task at hand. “Alright Sweetheart,” he says. “That’s good. All you have to do now is take your punishment, okay? It’ll be over soon.”

Bucky nods. “…Okay Daddy.”

Fuck. The fact that Bucky is calling him that speaks volumes about how much he truly craves this dynamic. Even when he’s about to be caned—something he doesn’t like—he’s choosing to call Steve ‘Daddy’. He doesn’t want it and yet he wants it all at the same time. It’s a confusing sensation that Steve has had experience with giving his subs before. Now that Bucky’s his, he can start giving it to him as well.

“Nine strokes,” he repeats once more, then brings the cane down for number one.

Bucky wails, crying and yelling and cursing as he’s caned. Steve thrills with a deeply-rooted sense of satisfaction at each measured strike that he delivers, getting off in more than a sexual way at the fact that he’s hurting Bucky like this, that he has so much power over him that he’s allowed to do this. And Bucky just takes it. It’s a dream come true for Steve. He writhes and sobs with every strike, and Steve has to wait for him to get back into position a time or two, but by the time the punishment is over and Bucky’s ass is marked with nine red stripes, there’s been no safeword uttered, no “red!” shouted out. That’s what matters most. It’s what makes Steve swell with pride for his boy.

Bucky,” he says, tossing the cane aside so that Bucky can hear it rattling on the floor, can know that it’s all over. “Bucky, baby boy, you did it.” He sits down on the bed next to the wedge, reaching to touch Bucky all over his back and pet his hair. Bucky’s still crying but Steve understands. He soothes him through it, allowing him to cry the way that he needs to. “It’s okay,” he murmurs gently. “It’s okay, you’re good. Get it all out honey.” Eventually the crying fades away. Bucky goes limp and turns his head to blink at Steve with red-rimmed eyes. Steve reaches to brush some of Bucky’s sweaty hair from his forehead. “Hey Sweetheart,” he says quietly. “How are you feeling?”

It seems to take Bucky a moment to really process the question. He stares blankly for a bit before his eyes clear and he inhales shakily to say, “Good.”

“Mm. Tell me more.” Steve looks down at his striped-red ass. “I want to know everything you’re feeling Buck. You just took a real punishment. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Bucky swallows visibly. “M’tired,” he says. “Hot.”

“Yeah?” Steve reaches to run his palm in circles over Bucky’s ass. It’s a gentle touch but it still makes him hiss and squirm. Steve soaks the reaction up with a selfish sort of pleasure. The skin there is indeed hot to the touch. “What else?”

“Embarrassed …I cried,” Bucky says, voice hesitant like he’s figuring something out. “I… it feels better, after. Maybe…” he glances up at Steve. “Kinda feels like it does after I’ve come.”

Steve smiles knowingly. “Sated,” he says, petting Bucky’s head as feelings of fondness and protection burn bright in him. “You feel sated.”

Bucky hums, eyes slipping shut. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But it hurts.”

“I know baby boy. It’s supposed to. That’s what makes it a punishment.” Bucky whines a little, but he doesn’t argue or open his eyes. He lays there and lets Steve continue to touch and pet him. Steve is pretty sure that Bucky doesn’t realize it right now, but he’d hit subspace while he was being caned. Steve is touching him and praising him to help bring him down gently. “You’re a good boy,” he tells him, watching as Bucky shivers with each pet and compliment.

After a long while of this, Bucky open his eyes. He looks right up at Steve, fully-cognizant, and says, “Thank you Daddy.”

God, but this is all Steve’s ever wanted.

Chapter Text

Bucky wakes up to the feeling of warm hands on his hips and feather-light touches to his stomach. When he opens his eyes and looks down, he sees that Steve is laid out between his legs, face at the level of his navel.

“Hey,” Steve says, bending down and placing another tender kiss against his stomach. “How’d you sleep?”

Bucky blinks the sleep from his eyes and stretches under Steve’s hands. “Mm, good.” He yawns. “S’it morning?”

“Sure is, baby boy.”

Bucky blushes, embarrassed pleasure thrumming under his skin at the sight of his Daddy between his legs, kissing him and calling him sweet names. “Do you need me to go?” he asks. It’s Sunday now and he doesn’t know what Steve might have had planned…

“Don’t ask stupid questions, honey,” Steve says condescendingly, then goes back to kissing him and moving slowly down his belly.

Bucky feels his stomach muscles clench and his cock start to stir. “Steve,” he breathes. “What are you gonna do?”

“I want to make you feel good, Buck. You deserve a reward after how good you were for me last night.” Gently, he scrapes his teeth against the juncture of Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky moans. Suddenly, he remembers what they’d done last night. “Oh,” he sighs, squirming the barest bit to feel the ache in his ass. It’s there, but it’s not quite as bad as he’d expected it to be. “What was that stuff you put on me last night?” he asks, voice a little breathless because Steve is still mouthing at his inner thighs, ignoring his cock and squeezing the sides of his butt.

“Arnica salve,” he murmurs against his skin. “It helps with the bruising.”

“Hmm, thank you.” Bucky is mostly focusing on the way that Steve is kissing the skin at the very edge of his groin… “What do I get?” he asks, eager now that his cock is stirring and Steve’s pretty face is down between his legs.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Steve says. He sits back and taps at Bucky’s hip. “Come on, turn over.”

Bucky rolls over onto his stomach, eager and excited. He gasps in surprise when Steve yanks his hips up and stuffs a pillow beneath them. It puts his ass up at an angle, which feels deliciously dirty. Bucky shivers, knowing that he’s on display now. “Sir?” he asks.

Steve’s voice rumbles right in his ear, taking him by surprise. “Is that how you want to play, then?” he asks. His voice is low and aroused, as if he finds the prospect very enticing.

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. “Yes.”

Steve nips his earlobe. “‘Yes’, what?”

“Ah! Yes, Sir.”

“Hm, good.” Steve licks a hot stripe up his neck. “Don’t forget how you talk to me.”

Bucky nods in agreement, turned on by the warning. Steve’s persona is different when he’s ‘Sir’ and not ‘Daddy’. His voice is different, the way he moves and the way that he talks to Bucky is different. Bucky’s not sure Steve even notices he’s doing it, but Bucky certainly does. The stern, expectant way Steve treats him when they’re like this gets Bucky’s insides twisting in apprehension and arousal. His Sir makes him remember that he had better fucking behave. Bucky wants to behave. Behind him, Steve is making his way back down, kissing down the length of his spine. Bucky sighs and wiggles, enjoying it and trying to stay patient. Steve had said he’d get a reward…

“You’re gorgeous like this, you know?” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t get time to respond before Steve is saying, “Your ass is bruised. I can see exactly where you took the hits.”

Bucky shivers, feeling bizarrely proud of that. Steve sounds enthralled at what he’s looking at back there, and along with the way he’s stroking his fingers lightly at Bucky’s hips, it’s like he’s praising him. Bucky licks his lips. “I—I did good?”

Steve holds him more firmly, making the edges of the welts hurt and eliciting a hiss from Bucky. “Yeah,” Steve says. “You did. A lot of subs can’t stay still during punishment. Even if they don’t safeword out, eventually they get up and try to fight it on instinct.” He bends and kisses one of Bucky’s ass cheeks, right where the bruising is. “But you didn’t. You stayed and cried it out instead.” Gently, he slides his palms over Bucky’s backside, and then he gives a slow squeeze.

Bucky moans loudly. “Oh!”

“You’re a natural,” Steve says. Then he’s sinking down, spreading Bucky’s ass cheeks and stuffing his face between. Bucky’s gasp is half pain and half pleasure as soon as Steve starts licking at his hole. “Oh, fuck Sir.”

Steve hums against him. He starts jabbing his tongue in little thrusts that aren’t able to breach Bucky’s body but make his hole twitch and clench. “Sh-shiiit.” Bucky pushes his ass back further, even though it makes the pain worse where Steve’s hands and face are against his bruises. “Steve, Sir.”

Steve pulls back enough to ask him, “You ever had this done to you baby?” Bucky shakes his head because, no, he hasn’t. Rimming is something everybody wants done but nobody wants to do, after all. When he manages to tell Steve this, Steve just laughs. “Not true.” He goes down and licks him from taint to tailbone, and Bucky melts. “I love eating pussy,” Steve whispers, then he’s back to it.

Bucky’s dick jumps against the pillow as the word hits him. “S’not a pussy,” he says, not because he wants to argue but because he wants to hear Steve tell him again.

Steve downright sucks on his hole. “Baby, it sure as hell is.” He thumbs at his hole and spits on it, rubbing the wetness around. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He goes back to tonguing him then, and Bucky groans and presses his forehead into the sheets.

“God, Sir, please. Please can I touch myself?”

“Mm mn.” Steve pushes his tongue hard enough to just barely slip inside, and Bucky shouts. Steve pulls away and sits back. “No,” he says firmly. “You don’t touch that cock without permission. That’s mine. Understand?”

Bucky whimpers but nods, Steve’s words doing indescribable things to his insides. “I understand.”

“Good boy.” Steve taps at the backs of Bucky’s thighs. “Pull your knees up.” Bucky does so, and then he feels Steve moving the pillow away. “Stay like that,” he tells him. He’s getting up off the bed. Bucky whimpers despite himself, and Steve shoots him a warning look over his shoulder as he goes to the closet. When he comes back, it’s with a jet-black sex toy in hand and a bottle of lube. He settles himself behind Bucky and touches his ass gently. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes. “I know you’re still tender here. That’s why I’m not gonna fuck you. You’re too sore for my hips to be slapping up against you.” He does something with his hands behind Bucky, and then there’s a wet object touching his hole—the toy.

Bucky gasps. “What is it?” he asks. He’d seen the size at least, knows it’s not very big alien-dildo sized.

“It’s a prostate stimulator,” Steve says, rubbing it in circles over Bucky’s hole, not pushing enough to penetrate him. “It vibrates.”

Bucky moans. “You’re gonna fuck me with it?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do I get to come?”

Steve pushes the toy until the tip slips into Bucky’s body. “Yes. You have permission to come whenever you need to.” He kisses Bucky’s tailbone as he works it in further. “You’re very good for asking. You always need permission.”

“I know-oh!” Bucky’s words cut off as Steve pushes the toy all the way inside of him and rocks it just so, the curve of it settling against Bucky’s prostate like it’s supposed to. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah?” Steve continues the motion—rock, rock, rock—humming like he’s enjoying the sight of what he’s doing. “Feel good?”—rock, rock

Bucky grits his teeth, nods where Steve can’t see. “Yes, ugh. Thank you, thank you.” He reaches to touch himself without thinking about it, but he’s stopped by Steve’s warm hand covering his own, pushing it back to the bedsheets.

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts. “Whose cock is this?”

Fuck. Bucky pants. Steve’s still rocking the vibrator. “Yours, Sir,” he grunts.

“That’s right.” Steve turns the vibrations on and chuckles at Bucky’s shocked gasp of pleasure. He waits until he’s quieted down and then tells him, “If I decide you don’t touch it, then you don’t touch it. I want to train you to be able to come just from this.” He thrusts the toy in indication. “Just from being fucked.”

Holy fucking shit. Bucky clenches up hard at that, the image of Steve locking his cock away and fucking his orgasms out of him forevermore burning hot in his brain like a brand. “St-steve,” he whispers. “Oh, Steve, Sir. Yeah I want that.”

The vibrator gets turned up another notch—rock, rock, rock—and it’s humming like crazy over Bucky’s prostate, almost too much in its intensity. “Pleease,” Bucky whines.

“Just relax, honey,” Steve says, his voice the gentlest it’s been yet. “I’ll get you there. Just enjoy the way it feels.”

Bucky pants, closing his eyes and clenching and unclenching his fists. He wants to do as Steve has said, wants to be good and give into it. For the most part he’s able to, but his hips still push back a little against Steve’s hand. “Can you…” he swallows dryly. “Can you touch me though? Rub me, on the outside?”

Steve is quiet, and for a moment Bucky thinks he’s going to say no, but then Steve’s hand is appearing behind Bucky’s balls and pressing lightly. “Here?” he asks, sounding breathless. “Like this?”

Bucky nods fast, squirming in an attempt to get more. “Yeah, yeah. Please.”

“Fuck baby, that’s so hot.” Steve rubs his fingers hard over Bucky’s taint, pressing up and stimulating his prostate from that angle as well. “You’re so good for asking, you know that?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, he’s getting really, really into it now, his hips moving in little pulses, moving along with the rocking motions Steve is giving him. It’s so, so good, and for the first time Bucky starts to think that maybe he will be able to come just from this. “I can—ah!—w-whenever I want?” he gasps.

“Yeah Buck, come whenever you need to.”

Steve’s words are encouraging, they make Bucky feel safe. And he’s so, so glad that he has permission to come because what Steve’s doing to him feels fucking amazing and he doesn’t want to hold back from it. “Thank you,” he moans, letting his eyes slip shut so that he can focus on nothing but the pleasure Steve’s giving him. It’s so constant and so steady that Bucky feels like he’s climbing a ladder straight to the edge. It’s slow-going but he’s getting there. Fuck he thinks excitedly. He’s gonna fucking come from this.

“C-close,” he gasps after a long while, the pleasure ratcheted up and his hips stuttering forward and back again with the motion of the vibrator. It’s rubbing and buzzing right against his prostate, and Steve’s fingers are pressing in so hard, just like Bucky’d asked. “M’close.”

“Come whenever you need to,” Steve says again, not breaking rhythm.

It’s only a few more seconds before Bucky does. He shouts, body locking up and trembling as he tips over the edge. It’s so good! It’s better than, longer than, more than he can ever remember it being. He gasps and moans in shock as he rides it out, body so tense that his muscles are jerking and shuddering. He shoots all over the sheets, coming for what feels like forever. And fuck, it is forever, it is, Bucky knows it is. It’s never been like this; this pulsing, bone-deep tide of pleasure that just completely takes him. He moans loudly, sounds that he’s too overwhelmed to care about or hear.

Steve works him through it with the toy. He seems to know just when the right moment to turn the vibrations off is, and then when to stop rocking it. Finally, he pulls it out of Bucky in a wet slide. Bucky groans at the sound of it and the feeling of being left empty where he wasn’t before, his asshole clenching down on nothing. “Oh,” he breathes, trying to calm down, trying to swallow past his dry throat. “Steve, Steve,”

“Here,” Steve’s hands maneuver both of his legs back, coaxing him to lay flat on his front. Bucky groans in relief as he goes. “That feel better?” Steve asks. He’s petting Bucky’s hair,, his neck, up and down the skin of his back. Bucky shivers from the contact.

“Y-yeah,” he says. “S’good.”

Steve hums in approval and keeps petting at him, telling him, “That was gorgeous Bucky. Watching you like that? Fuck. So damn good for me, baby.” He shifts on the bed, kneeling up. Bucky’s too lazy to look back but he hears the sounds as Steve starts to jerk himself off. Bucky makes a weak attempt to turn over and offer Steve his face or something for a target, but Steve just pushes him back down with his free hand. “Shh, stay still. M’gonna come on your ass.”

Fuck, but Bucky’s cock gives a weak jerk at that. He whines to let Steve know he thinks that idea is fantastic, and then closes his eyes and just soaks up the sounds of Steve pleasuring himself—the hurried 'fap' of skin on skin, his small, shaky breaths. It’s so hot to hear Steve making those noises, to know that Bucky’s the reason he’s so turned on and shamelessly touching himself. Minutes later, Steve tenses and he grunts like the air’s been punched right out of him. Hot ropes of cum hit Bucky’s ass and thighs, and he sighs in contentment at the feeling.

Steve gasps in air once he’s finished, falling next to Bucky and avoiding his sore backside. “C’mere,” he says, pulling to get Bucky against his side and laying half on top of him. Steve exhales in relief. “Ugh, yes. Bucky, baby. Thank you.”

Bucky can’t help it, he chuckles. “Pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you, Sir.”

Steve hums in agreement, pinching his ass lightly just because he can. “Yeah,” he says firmly. “Yeah you should. Come on, tell me."

That makes Bucky feel small and needy, and he blushes at the good-squirmy feeling he gets from Steve’s haughty tone. “…Thank you, Sir,” he says.

Steve huffs a laugh and tugs his head up for a sloppy, exhausted kiss. “Baby, you are so welcome.” He sighs, shivering at the end of it. “Let’s sleep for a little bit.”

“But I’m all covered in your—”

“I know,” Steve interrupts, voice taking on some of that wonderful authority again. “And you’ll stay that way for now. I like it.”

Bucky groans, thinking that Steve always knows the best things to say.

Chapter Text

“How do deaf people wake up if they can’t hear their alarm clocks?”

That had been one of the first questions Bucky asked Clint, back in freshman year when they’d just become friends and Bucky was still mildly terrified of Natasha.

The answer is vibration (No, not in a fun way). There are these mats that go just under your sheets or your pillow, and they vibrate to wake you up. They’re much less jarring than the screech of traditional alarm clocks and Bucky’s really come to prefer them.

So when Steve comes over to Bucky’s place for the first time and starts making out with him in his single bed, he goes wide-eyed when the mattress starts buzzing beneath them. “What the—” he starts, quickly diverted by Bucky’s snort of laughter.

“Sorry, sorry!” he laughs, stretching to grab his phone from the floor. He taps the app to shut the vibrations off. When he comes back to Steve—who’s laying on top of him, he smiles. “Deaf people alarm,” he says. “That’s my two pm wake up call.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Jeez, you really are a college student. Two pm? Christ.”

Bucky mock-pinches him. “Hey! A guy’s gotta nap after his daily jerk off session.”

The speed with which Steve's features switch over to intensely interested is adorable. His mouth quirks and he tilts his head curiously. “Daily, huh?”

“Sometimes more. I’m not ashamed.” He pokes Steve’s chest. “Just because you’re an old man with a waning libido—mmph!” He’s cut off by a rough kiss from Steve, a bite nipped to his lower lip as Steve pulls back.

“Choose your words carefully,” he warns with a dark grin. “Or I’ll show you exactly how ‘waning’ my libido is—and you won’t get to come once.”

Bucky gulps, even though the threat makes his guts swoop pleasantly at the same time. “Sorry, Sir.”

“That’s okay baby. I know you were just joking. Now, tell me more about how you touch yourself. Exactly how often do you do it?”

Oh Bucky realizes with a flush that Steve is about to interrogate him over every intimate detail of his masturbatory habits. He shivers, excited. “Like… ten times a week?”

“Mm.” Steve sticks his face in Bucky’s neck, mouthing at him there. “What do you think about?”

Shit. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, feeling like a fantasy is coming true right now. “Lately? You. I think about everything you do to me, the stuff I want you to do to me.” He inhales as Steve gives a strong suck to his neck. “I-I think about your arms a lot, and your hands.”

Steve laughs against his skin. “That so?”

“Yeah. They’re so strong. Just makes me think about you manhandling me.” Bucky tilts his hips up, trying to grind his semi against Steve. “Steve, fuck me?”

“Mm mn, not yet. Tell me more. Where do you do it? Here in your bed?”

“Fuck. Yeah. Yeah right here.”

“Do you get naked?”

“Not usually.” Bucky squirms, enjoying Steve’s body against his, holding him down. “Just my pants and underwear.”

Steve snorts. “Impatient.”

Bucky doesn’t deny it. He is. “Steve,” he asks again, feeling more and more desperate. “Let’s get naked. Want you to touch me.”

“Not yet.” Steve’s voice is calm but firm, confident that he won’t have to repeat himself again. “What do you do, hm? How do you touch yourself?”

“Ugh! I jerk off!”

“Watch your tone, baby boy. I want details.” Steve pulls back and stares right down at him, watching. “How do you touch yourself?”

Bucky is frustrated and mortified. And he loves it, god, does he love it. His cheeks are getting hot as he’s so closely scrutinized by Steve’s calm, handsome face. Bucky gulps and closes his eyes to start answering, but Steve says sharply,

“Open your eyes.” Fuck. Bucky does. Steve still looks calm, but he tells him, tone clipped, “You look right at me while you tell me.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees softly, feeling increasingly submissive from the way Steve’s treating him. “I, uh, I almost always jerk off.”


“Yeah I-I touch myself back there too though.”

Steve eyes darken and he asks, “Yeah? You like to touch your little asshole?”

“Y-yeah.” Bucky feels like he’s going to burn up, like all his blood has gone to his face and his cock. He rubs the latter up against Steve’s stomach. “I like it.”

“You always just use your fingers?”

“No.” Bucky licks his lips. “I use toys.”

“Plugs? Dildos?”

Fuck, Steve. Both.”

Steve comes down and kisses him softly, pushing his tongue into his mouth. He pulls back, staring again. “How big are they?”

“Big.” Bucky shrugs. “Like, the size of real cocks I guess.”

Steve shivers and for the first time he grinds his hips down against Bucky as well. He’s firming up in his pants, too. “Show me?”

“…Okay.” Steve lets him up and Bucky goes to get his favorite toy from the bedside table.

“Get lube, too.”

Bucky’s fingers clench tight on the dildo at what that obviously means. Steve is going to fucking make him use it. He groans and grabs the lube as well.

When Steve sees what Bucky’s holding, he sits up on the bed and raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Bucky, what the heck is that?”

“... Uh, it’s an alien dildo. It was a gag gift from Clint. But I kept it.”

Steve exhales shuddery, reaching down to palm himself over his jeans. “Yeah? You like stuffing weird stuff up your cunt?”

Again with the dirty words. Bucky forces himself to nod, feeling the beginnings of that sticky-slow trickle into his brain. “I… yeah. I like it.”

“Why don’t you come up here and show me how much you like it, then.” Steve nods at the headboard. “Sit there. Touch yourself like you’d do if I wasn’t here. I don’t want to see you fake a damn thing,” he warns. “Just like you’d do it alone, Buck.”

Bucky shudders and nods. “Kay.” He pulls his clothes off, chucking them to the floor in a messy pile. He glances at Steve to see if he’ll be reprimanded, but Steve just nods and drawls,

“I did say just like you’d do it.”

Bucky gets up on the bed, kneeling. He gets lube on his fingers and, feeling like he can’t look away from Steve, reaches around behind himself.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you.” Steve undoes his fly and pushes his jeans down, starts rubbing the bulge of his semi through his underwear. “How’s that feel?”

“S’okay,” Bucky says, focusing on opening himself up with one finger, and then two. When he’s ready, he throws a pillow to the headboard and leans back against it. He slicks the dildo and brings it down between his legs, lifting his balls and cock out of the way with his free hand. When he peeks up, all of Steve’s attention is fixed right on his asshole.

“Go on,” he breathes.

Bucky presses the head of the dildo in. “Oh.” He says it breathy, quietly. His eyes slip shut to focus on the feeling of being penetrated, but in a moment he remembers to look at Steve. Steve’s hot gaze just gets his pulse racing faster. Slowly, Bucky works the dildo in further.

“What sort of alien is this supposed to be?” Steve teases.

Bucky huffs. “Fuck if I know. It bulges on the end, fills me up real nice. That’s why I kept it.” Bucky sees how Steve’s nostrils flare at that. “You like that?” he asks, feeling sly for the first time. “That I like to be stuffed real full?”

“Put it all the way in,” Steve orders, not deigning to answer Bucky’s question. “Slowly.”

Bucky bites his lip and focuses on doing just that, slowly screwing the fake cock into himself until he can feel the fat bulge on the end pushing at his rim. He breathes in deeply, then pushes harder, focusing on relaxing his body and mind to let it in.

“Jesus fuck,” Steve murmurs, watching as the widest part of the dildo slips in. “Aw, Buck. You just took that, didn’t you? Took it so easy.”

Bucky nods shakily, letting go of the dildo and taking a moment to get used to how full he is. “Mmhm. I practice a lot.”

Steve growls. “Yeah? You been training your cunt to open up real good?” Bucky nods, and Steve moves to make himself more comfortable on the bed, resting against the footboard. He’s settling in to enjoy the show, Bucky realizes, the visual of it getting his own dick twitching towards hardness. He hasn’t touched himself yet. “What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever put up there, hm?” Steve asks.

“A…” Bucky shivers, mouth working for a moment before he can answer, “Someone’s… fist.”




Bucky shakes his head slowly. “No.”

Steve stares hard at him for a moment, but he lets it go. He relaxes back into where he’s sitting. “How big?”


Steve raises an eyebrow, then holds up one of those hands that Bucky is always fantasizing about. He slowly closes his hand into a fist, and his question is clear. Bucky nods, feeling breathless as he answers, “Yeah, like your hand. Maybe a tiny bit smaller.”

Steve puts that hand back down to his briefs and starts rubbing himself over them again. His dick has gotten visibly harder beneath the fabric. “You’re supposed to be masturbating,” he reminds.

Fuck, who even calls it that? It’s oddly embarrassing and arousing, and Bucky listens, reaching for another pillow and lifting his hips up so that he can tuck it underneath himself and between his legs. Steve’s mouth actually drops open.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he breathes, looking gone for Bucky. “Are you telling me you hump your pillow? Like a girl?”

Bucky has an instant flashback to a month ago, when he’d come back from buying panties and gotten himself off and imagined Steve seeing it, imagined calling him ‘Daddy’ and whining that he just wanted to come like this. And now Steve is sitting there saying the exact same things, and Bucky thinks there must be a god, because no way do things this wonderful happen to people out of chance, no way. “Yeah Daddy,” he breathes, absolutely needing to call Steve that right now. “Yeah I do. It feels good, pushes the cock up inside me, like a thrust.” Steve groans. His big hand curls around himself over the underwear and gives a hard stroke. Bucky stares at where a wet spot has made the fabric dark. “It’s easy,” he adds, wanting to keep turning Steve on, wanting to see him pull his underwear down and really start to jack off. “I can just rock on it then. Sometimes I don’t’ even touch my dick.”


Bucky nods, feeling triumphant. “Yeah. Do you like that?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, honey,” Steve says, reaching into his underwear for the first time and stroking himself underneath. “I think you should touch your cock now though,” he says. “If it’s what you usually do. I want to see it.”

Bucky swallows but nods. The further this goes, the easier it gets. His brain is thrumming with the hazy pleasure that comes with giving in and doing what he’s told. He pushes the pillow further back so he can still rock on it, then takes his cock in hand and gives himself a few leisurely strokes. He hardens to full mast quickly, and he starts thumbing at the head, bumping his knuckle underneath it the way he likes. It feels so good that he just keeps doing that as he starts to rock his hips back against the pillow. The dildo inside him shifts, moving slightly like the barest thrust from a lover. Bucky exhales shakily. “Fuuck.”

“God, Bucky. You look so fucking amazing.” Steve pushes his underwear down, eyes never leaving Bucky as he reaches for the bottle of lube to squirt some into his palm. He starts jacking himself lightly, all the way up and down the shaft. Bucky stares, rapt. All of a sudden, it occurs to him that he wants to see how Steve touches himself when he’s alone, too. “Pull your foreskin down,” Steve says. “Show me that pretty pink dick.”

Bucky clenches around the dildo, his insides throbbing hard at the command. He listens, using slippery fingers to ease the foreskin over the head, watching as Steve’s eyes widen and then narrow, rapt. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks breathily.

Steve’s eyes shoot to his face. “Fuck yeah I think you’re pretty. Jerk yourself off baby boy. For real. I want to see you make yourself come.”

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat and proceeds to do just that, rolling his hips back against the pillow in tiny thrusts as he makes a loose fist around himself and starts moving it up and down, from base to tip. “Daddy,” he whines, staring at Steve’s cock and how he’s got it resting in his own hand. “Can you… will you please…”

“Gotta use your words, Buck.”

“…You too?” Bucky says. “Please?”

Steve grins and starts jerking himself off in pace with Bucky. “You’d better come first,” he warns. “If you don’t, you’re not coming for a week.”

Bucky gasps, instantly terrified and crazy-turned on at the thought that Steve would do that, that he can and will do that, if Bucky fails. He starts fucking back harder on the dildo, determined to make himself come before Steve does. He’s got a head start as it is, and he feels the pleasure building higher at the rhythmic glide of his hand over his cock, at the way the dildo stretches his rim and rubs over his prostate. “Fuck,” he hisses, body getting hotter and hotter, that coil of desperation getting tighter. “Oh, Steve.”

“Yeah, baby?” Steve asks, breathy himself. His hand is making slick, slapping sounds as it jerks his dick. “That feel good?”

“Mmhm.” Bucky nods rapidly, working harder, done playing now and chasing the orgasm that he can feel building at the base of his spine. He tightens his thighs on the pillow, rocking back shorter and harder. With his free hand, he reaches down and cups his balls, rolling and tugging, pressing into the space behind until he whines. “Oh, ff-fuck.”

“You close?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Good. Keep going.” Steve gets up and kicks his pants all the way off. He shuffles down the bed on his knees, stopping when he’s just in front of Bucky. Now his eyes are glued right on Bucky’s face, watching him and pinning him under that intense blue stare. Bucky feels held open and pinned down, his every thought and desire bared and exposed for Steve to see. He whimpers and Steve shushes him, bringing the hand that’s not working himself up to palm Bucky’s face. “Just get yourself there, Buck. I know you can.”

Bucky nods obediently, desperate and panting as he can feel his balls tightening up. “Okay, okay, okay,” he repeats, barely-verbal and staring right into Steve’s eyes. Steve can see all of him, he thinks, overwhelmed and so, so close. Steve knows him, all of him, right down to his bones.

On Bucky’s face, Steve moves his hand to underneath his chin and slides his thumb into his mouth, hooking it behind his teeth, pulling him in and pressing his lips to his ear to whisper, “Make it good, baby. Because I’m revoking jerk off privileges once this is over. The next time you come, it’s gonna be on my fist.”

Bucky grunts and seizes up, shooting into orgasm from what Steve’s just said to him.

Chapter Text

Professor Hottie: Loved watching you make yourself feel good, baby boy. Just remember your rule.

Bucky’s in his 4pm conversation lab (he’d had to hightail it across campus to make it on time, after his jerk-off session with Steve) when he gets the text. His eyes flick up to Dennis, who’s looking peeved that Bucky’s got his phone out, but Bucky doesn’t care. Dennis is annoying the worst lab partner ever. He looks back down at his phone and types out,

🙄Yeah yeah.

Professor Hottie: 🧐What was that?

Bucky’s eyebrows raise towards his hairline even as his heart jumps with excitement. Professor I-can’t-text-with-anything-less-than-perfect-grammar Rogers has deigned to use emojis?? Oh, this is going to be fun.

Im not supposed 2 jerk off w/o permission 😒, Bucky texts back, hoping that it sounds petulant.

Professor Hottie: 🤨And what else?

Ugh. That’s the worst part of it, which Steve had unexpectedly dumped on him—along with the world’s sweetest kiss—as he left Bucky to clean the come off himself and scramble to make it to class on time. Bucky pouts at his phone for a full minute before he makes himself type back,

u give permission when u feel like it. Im not supposed 2 ask. 😫😤😭🤬🤬🤬. The plethora of emojis is probably not needed, but Bucky takes petty pleasure in it. and that SUCKS and I hate you.

Professor Hottie: 🤥No you don’t.

Bucky bites his lip, grinning. 🙃no I dont.

Ahem, are you going to keep texting your girlfriend or do you think we can get going here?”

Bucky’s eyes shoot up, peeved. “Yeah.” He taps his phone off and shoves it in his bag. Then he signs, By the way, I’m gay as fuck. Get it right, and gets a mild amount of pleasure from watching Dennis scramble to reference the sign for “homosexual.” Bucky scoffs. Amateur.


So Bucky knows he’s not supposed to ask for permission to masturbate, but the thing is that Steve has said they’re not getting together again until Thursday, and that’s three whole days plus change and Bucky just cannot hold out that long. Steve knows he has a high sex drive is a borderline nympho, damnit!

So he slips into Steve’s Tuesday lecture a whole thirty minutes early just so that he can corner Steve and whine at him about how horny he is. But he doesn’t technically ask for anything, so Steve doesn’t care. He just tuts condescendingly and says he can imagine how hard that must be, and Bucky just wants to punch him in the face. He sits in the front fucking row that day, glaring at Steve for the entire lecture and rubbing his hands over his jeans at the very edge of his groin.

Steve, god bless him damn him, just ignores him and goes on lecturing about jade carvings.


Since Bucky can’t have his usual two pm jerk off session, he tags along to the performance arts building with Natasha. She’s booked studio time, and Bucky sits against the wall and flicks through Instagram as she does her stretches and then laces on her pointe shoes. Bucky’s seen how fucked up Natasha’s feet are, but he still can’t keep himself from asking, “Don’t those hurt?”

Her response is deadpan. “They’re toe shoes, James. For standing. On my toes.”

Pointe taken.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Bucky snickers and Natasha starts her rehearsal music on the room’s stereo system, immediately jumping into pirouette things that look impossible. Bucky only admires her for a minute or two before he starts getting bored and decides to text Steve. There’s more work to be done on the “sexually-frustrating-Steve-to-get-what-I-want” front.

hi daddy.

For a few minutes there’s no response, but then Bucky eyes the screen with interest once the little dots start indicating that Steve is typing a reply.

Professor Hottie: Hey baby boy. How’s your day been?

i cant stop thinking about you, Bucky types with a grin, ready to lay it on as thick as possible.

Professor Hottie: Is that so? How come?

im frustrated. cant stop thinking about it. i want 2 touch myself.

Professor Hottie: Don’t.

Bucky grins. i want 2 🤠 your 🍆

Professor Hottie: Bucky

i want u 2 🏏 me till i 💦. i want u 2 🔨 me till i 🌋

Professor Hottie: Where are you right now?

Yes! Bucky does a fist pump before he texts back, in a ballet studio watching natasha bend hrself in2 pretzels

Professor Hottie: Hm, that’s too bad. If you were alone I think I could give you something to occupy your mind. What if… you could slip off to somewhere a little more private?

Fuck. Bucky shoots up from the floor and throws a “Going to the bathroom!” over his shoulder at Natasha, who is too busy leaping through the air to notice him. In the men’s bathroom, he locks himself in a stall and leans against the door. Steve has since sent him another text.

Professor Hottie: I’ll call you in three minutes.

Bucky groans and counts the time down on his phone, restless and wanting so badly to touch himself. Steve’s gonna talk dirty to him over the phone! Bucky feels triumphant. His plan has worked. Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come, runs through his head on a hyperactive loop as he fights not to let his hand drift down to the front of his pants while he waits.

His phone rings, and Bucky’s picking up the call in a nanosecond. “Hey,” he says breathily into the receiver. “I went to the bathroom. Locked the door.”

Steve’s voice sounds darkly amused. “Did you now? Why would you do that?”

Bucky huffs. “Because we’re gonna have phone sex!”

“That sounds an awful lot like a demand, baby boy,” Steve teases.

“Well don’t you want to?” Bucky pleads, feeling desperate. He’d been sure that’s what this was leading up to. “Steve, Daddy, come on.” He tries to make his voice sweet and persuading. “All I can think about is how sexy you were yesterday, sitting on my bed and telling me what to do. Ugh, it was so hot.”

“Yeah? You liked that, did you?”

Steve is a goddamn fucking tease. Of fucking course he’d liked it! Bucky grits his teeth and thunks his head back against the stall door as he tries to have enough restraint to keep from touching himself. “Mm hm,” he murmurs instead. “Yeah Daddy. It made me… feel things.” Silence on Steve’s end of the line, then rustling. He sounds like he’s moving around, maybe on some furniture or… Bucky inhales. “Are… are you alone?”

“Sure am, honey.”

Yes! “Where? W-where are you?”

“In my office. With the door locked. …Shades pulled.”

Bucky curses, though it’s under his breath and he’s not sure if Steve catches it. Suddenly he’s got the image of Steve, wearing his stuffy professor clothes and sitting in a stuffy office. Reclined in some leather desk chair with his legs splayed wide, big thighs stretching the fabric of his pants as he palms his growing erection. “Fuck, Daddy,” Bucky whispers into the phone. “Oh, Daddy please, please can I touch myself?”

“You’re not supposed to ask for it, baby boy,” Steve scolds, but his voice doesn’t match the words. He sounds fucking delighted.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just can’t help it I really want to and you’re about to…” Bucky swallows, eyes dropping closed. “Aren’t you?”

“Mm, yeah I guess I was,” Steve admits. “Okay then, go on and touch yourself.”

Bucky sighs in relief, right hand instantly sliding over the crotch of his jeans and squeezing. “Oh, thank you. Fuck…”

“Just over your clothes for right now, baby,” Steve husks. He sounds really, really turned on, and it makes Bucky certain that he’s already started touching himself as well. “Are you hard?”

“Not yet,” Bucky breathes. He rubs his palm over his crotch, grabs the thickening length of his cock and curls his fingers over it. “Getting there,” he whispers. “Oh, Steve. Thank you. Thank you for letting me. S’been so hard.”

“You’ve made it what, two days?” Steve scoffs. “Not a very good start, Buck.”

“That’s a long time for me,” Bucky argues, jeans already growing too tight for comfort as he hardens.

“Hm, yeah I guess so. Just seems really pathetic, if you ask me,” Steve drawls. “I mean think about it: do you think most people have this problem, hm? Do you think other people can’t even go two days without popping off?” Bucky whimpers and Steve shushes him gently. “Shh, just say it sweetie: you’re a needy slut. Doesn’t matter how or where, you just need to come. And if you don’t, you’re a mess.”

“Oh.” Bucky feels that bright flare of arousal and embarrassment run through him. “Steve,”

“Tell me, Bucky.”

Bucky swallows heavily. “I’m a needy slut.”

“Mm. Yeah but that’s okay. Because you’re my little slut, aren’t you honey?”

“Yeah, yeah Daddy I am.” Bucky’s fingers are poised at the top of his jeans. “Can I… can I get myself out? Please? S’uncomfortable.”

“Go ahead.”

Bucky exhales in relief and undoes the front button, pulls down the zip. He’s got himself out and in hand in no time, squeezing roughly to relieve some of the pent-up ache. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes. “Feels so good.”

Steve groans and makes shuffling sounds on his end of the line. “I bet it does. Are you stroking yourself off?”

Bucky nods, hair sticking to the stall door and catching uncomfortably behind his head. “Yeah.”

“Good. Stop.”

Bucky gasps. He obeys the order more on instinct than anything else, and a second later an undignified cry is leaving his mouth. “What?!”

“Shh. Shut up, greedy boy,” Steve says, though his tone is more fond than anything. “I just want you to go slow. I want you to do exactly what I say.”

Oh. Bucky sags in relief. “Oh, okay.”

“Greedy,” Steve says again. “Alright, go on and reach down. Hold yourself midshaft, just loosely. Don’t move your hand.”

Bucky feels his stomach muscles tighten at the command, at the authority in Steve’s voice as he oh-so-calmly tells him what to do. That authority just flat-out does it for Bucky, and he follows Steve’s directions without complaint. “Okay,” he breathes, on-edge just from how precarious this feels. “What now?”

“How’s that dick feel in your hand, hm?”

“It’s hot. It’s…” Bucky licks his lips and squeezes himself weakly. “Throbby.”

Steve laughs. “Throbby, huh? So are you all the way hard or do you need some work?”

“M’hard,” Bucky says. “Yeah, need some.”

“Those answers make no sense together. Don’t get stupid on me already, Sweetheart.”

Bucky moans. “Sorry Daddy."

“Aw, that’s okay. How about this? Go on and give yourself a nice pull, okay? All the way to the tip, but don’t stroke back down.” Bucky does so, and his next breath is shuddery from the pleasure that it wrings. Steve makes a pleased sound on the other end of the line. “Good boy. Keep your hand at the head, got it?”

Bucky nods jerkily. “Yeah. ...Daddy?”

“What is it, baby boy?”

“Are you touching yourself too?”

Steve laughs. “Now how did you ever guess that?” Bucky moans, which makes Steve laugh again. “Yes Bucky, I’m touching myself. How could I not, when I’ve got my sweet boy moaning like a whore on the other end of the line?”

“Christ.” Bucky’s fingers spasm where he’s holding his dick. “Wish I could see you,” he breathes. “God, Steve. I bet you look so good.”

“I always look good.”

“I want to get on my knees for you,” Bucky blurts, fantasy forming behind his closed eyelids—Steve in his office, door locked, Bucky, doing things that no college student should ever do to their professor… “Want to suck you off underneath your desk."

Steve curses softly. “Yeah? Gonna come visit me during my office hours?”

“Ugn, yeah.”

“You’re not jerkin’ it, are you baby?” There’s an edge of warning to Steve’s tone, even though his breathlessness lets Bucky know that he’s well-into stroking himself. “Bucky?”

“No,” he huffs, fingers trembling where they’re circled around his cockhead. “No Daddy, m’not. But it’s hard. Please, can I?”

“Can you what?”

Christ. “Can I move my hand? I want to pull it back. Want to—”

“Fuck, baby.” Steve’s voice is breathy on the other end of the line, pleasured. “Yeah, go on. Stroke down real slow. Tight.”

Bucky follows the direction, forcing himself to go slow and not jack off at lightning speed like he really wants to. “Fuck,” he hisses, belly lurching in arousal when he peeks down at his fist and sees the head of his cock blurt out a bunch of precome. “Fuck, Steve, you should see it.”

“Fuck, yeah. What’s it look like? Come on baby, tell me. What’s that pretty cock look like right now?”

“S’all red,” Bucky breathes, staring down at his cock and feeling like it’s Steve’s hand that’s holding it, like he’s watching Steve jerk him off in this stall instead of himself. “And slick.”

“Yeah? You wet? Making a mess already?”

Bucky nods, fast and turned-on. He wants to fuck his hand so, so badly. “M’shaking,” he mutters. “S-steve, can I—”

“Loosen your fist NOW,” Steve growls. Bucky whimpers but somehow obeys. “Don’t let go,” Steve says. “Just keep it gentle, okay?”

“F-fuck. Okay. Okay, okay.” Bucky’s hips are pulsing off the stall door, trying to fuck his fist that he’s been ordered to keep loose.

“Go on and jerk it,” Steve says, and now his breath is shaky, and there’s light noise that sounds like he’s jacking himself off faster. “Loose, but fast if you want. Get that slick all over your hand. Make it sloppy, honey.”

Bucky gasps, immediately going faster. He sobs in relief because it feels so good to finally be able to stroke himself off. He’s been holding back and now the searing hot slide of his hand makes his toes curl and his belly tighten with how good it feels. He’s holding the phone to his ear with a death grip, as if that can make up for the loose way he’s being forced to work his cock. He makes quick, shuddering gasps and groans into the receiver as he touches himself in the only way that Steve has said he’s allowed to, but it’s not enough. God, it’s not enough.

“Are you doing it, Sweetheart?” Steve asks, voice like gravel the way it gets when he’s close to coming. “How’s that—uh—how’s that feel?”

Bucky sobs, tormented by the sounds Steve’s making and how obviously close he is. “Please,” he croaks out, feeling sweaty and desperate and like he might cry if Steve doesn’t let him do more. “Please, I need more. Please let me.”

“Fuck, honey.” Steve grunts loudly on the other end of the line, breath hitting Bucky’s ear in a staticky ‘whoosh’. “Not yet. I’m gonna come first, okay? Just be good. Just be—fuck. Ah, hell.”

“Steeve,” Bucky wails. “Steve please. Please let me!”

“Tell me,” Steve hisses. “Just tell me baby, c’mon, tell me you want it. TELL me you fucking want it.”

Steve is panting furiously on the other end of the line, right on the edge of orgasm and babbling filthy shit to get himself there. The thought only makes Bucky’s dick throb harder. He moans and gives in, pleading, “Please Daddy, I want you to come. Want you to shoot all over your fist, all over my face. Fuck. Want to hear it. Wanna see your fat cock when you—”

That’s all he gets out before Steve groans LOUDLY over the line and very obviously starts to come. Bucky keens along with him because he’s so, so ready, and this means that now Bucky’s going to get to come. His fingers are already tightening in anticipation as he strokes, his balls drawing up like his body just knows what’s coming. He’s going to get to come. He’s going to get to—”

“Take your hand off your cock NOW.” Bucky gasps. His hand seizes, squeezing around his cock before he can help it, and it’s like Steve knows, because he says, “Let go, Bucky,” all firm and serious. No nonsense, no games.

Bucky gives a cry that’s bordering on a shout, and he could give a fuck that he’s in a public place. “No!!” He thunks his head back against the stall door, dropping his hand from his cock and squeezing his eyes shut. A few angry tears leak out. “Fuck! Steve!” He’s shaking, panting and having a mini meltdown. This can’t be it, it can’t be. Bucky looks down and sees his dick, angry and red and bobbing in the air. “Steeeve!”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a long minute. It’s only when Bucky’s angry curses have died down to panting breaths that he says (calmly, mind you), “Are you about done with your tantrum?”

Bucky has never wanted to curse Steve out more than he does right now. “No!” he snaps, digging his nails into his palm to keep from reaching down for himself again. His erection is starting to flag, but not that much yet. He can still feel the blood pulsing just beneath the surface, the hot throb of it. “Why?” he whines. “Why can’t I come?!”

“Hush,” Steve says. “Put yourself away and I’ll tell you.”

Bucky huffs angrily and does. His fingers are shaking as he pissily tells him, “I’m still hard, Steve. It’s kind of a tight fit.”

“Watch your tone,” Steve warns. “And you can feel free to call me Sir, right now.” Bucky scoffs but says nothing. “So,” Steve says. “I have a question for you, Bucky.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “What, Sir?”

“Do you know what topping from the bottom is?”

…Oh. Bucky’s mood goes from sour to Oh shit, in two point five seconds. He exhales nervously. “…What?”

“Hm. Your voice got tiny real fast,” Steve observes. He sounds smug. “Answer the question.”

It takes Bucky a moment to gather his wits enough to answer. His mind is racing over the past ten minutes, over the past few hours; how he’d sexted Steve to get him riled up, how he’d wanted to push Steve’s buttons to get him to give permission for Bucky to jerk off. …He just hadn’t counted on being called out on it. “Um…” he flounders.

“Come on Buck. I know you know. Now tell me. What is it?”

Fuck, but Bucky never would’ve expected to be this embarrassed about it. Topping from the bottom is exactly what he was doing, and it’s displeased Steve, and that makes Bucky feel… not good. “I… it’s when a sub manipulates their Dom, to get what they want.”

“Mmhm. And why do you think your dick is tucked back in your pants right now?”

Bucky clenches his eyes shut, pained at being reminded how sexually frustrated he is. “Ugh,” he groans. “Because I manipulated you.”

“Oh really?” Steve’s voice is mocking, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil. “And how did you do that, Sweetheart?”

“I tried to make you give me permission. I tried to get you going.”

“You sure did, baby boy. Was that your way of asking?”

“Yes,” Bucky admits begrudgingly. No point in denying it now. Steve’s got him figured out. It’s as hot as it is infuriating. “M’not supposed to ask for it.”

“That’s right,” Steve says, and this time his tone is firm. “And that’s exactly why you don’t get to come right now.”


“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head, trying to think. It’s hard to think of anything besides his aching, fading erection. “Um, I was gonna do some homework. That’s all. Tomorrow’s… Friday. I don’t have classes.”

Steve hums. “And your weekend?”

“I work closing at the bookstore on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Good. Go and do what you have to do, then pack a bag. You’re mine until Saturday afternoon.”

Steve hangs up abruptly, and Bucky hisses in annoyance when the call cuts off. He lets the hand he’s holding the phone with drop down to his side, then he drops his head to stare down at the front of his jeans. “Fuck,” he whispers, feeling like he’s still coming down from it. He reaches down and grinds the heel of his palm against his dick to push away any lingering feelings of arousal. Bucky is not good at following orders. Not when he’s on his own, leastways. He knows he could jerk off right now and Steve would never know. And he wants to, but…

Bucky would know. He’d know and he’d hate it even more than he’s hating the frustration he’s feeling right now. So, sighing heavily, he shoves his phone in his pocket and buttons up his fly. He leaves the men’s bathroom with his head lightly buzzing as he plays back the past few minutes in his head, remembering how unbelievably hot it’d all been. Fuck Steve and his sadistic fucking mind.

Steve is… fuck, Steve is just something else. Bucky can’t remember the last time he was flat out denied orgasm. Edged, sure. But not denied. Even Gavin hadn’t gone for that. It occurs to Bucky that perhaps Steve is much, much more creative with punishments than either of Bucky’s previous two Doms had been. The thought makes his lips quirk stupidly as he returns to the dance studio.

“Where the hell’d you go?” Natasha pants, looking at him through the room’s mirrors.

Bucky just shrugs. “Bathroom.”


Bucky hadn’t been lying when he’d said he had homework to do. It’s not much—just a reflection piece. He gets it done and then he sits on his bed and thinks about that afternoon, how Steve had talked to him and treated him. It makes Bucky’s cock jerk in his pants and suddenly he’s hit with a major urge to touch himself. He lets his hand slide over his thigh and up to the front of his jeans, palming himself there before he can question it. One squeeze has him jerking in his pants and closing his eyes. Fuck, but he wants to.

Gritting his teeth, Bucky grabs his phone and hits Steve’s number before he can second guess himself. Steve picks up on the second ring. “Hey,”, he says.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Bucky says, hurriedly so that he can be sure to get it out.

“I… oh.” Steve is quiet on his end of the line.

“I’m sorry Steve I just—”

“No, no it’s okay Bucky. Don’t apologize. Come on over tonight and we can look at the contract, okay? Maybe it isn’t for us.”

Bucky freezes, confused by Steve’s words for a second. “What? I—no, Steve, that’s not what I meant.”

“…Okay. Well what did you—”

“I mean I don’t know if I can be good,” Bucky says. “I want to follow the rules and be good for you Steve but I just…” He looks down, embarrassed. “You were right, about what you said on the phone.”

“I said a lot of things on the phone, Buck,” Steve says softly. “What was I right about?”

“That I’m a needy slut,” Bucky says, only this time there isn’t any sexiness to it, no kinky undertone. He’s actually embarrassed as he admits it. He can feel his cheeks burning. “I do need it more than other people. I can’t… sometimes I just feel like I can’t help myself.”

Steve is quiet for a long time, or at least it feels like a long time to Bucky. When he does speak, his voice is calm. “Thank you for being honest, Bucky.”

Bucky blushes. He doesn’t feel like Steve should be thanking him. “I was gonna,” he says, voice tiny. “Right before I called you. I still might. I just…” he sighs. “I really do want to be good. I just don’t think I can.” Bucky imagines that Steve must be disappointed in him for being unable to follow the rules so soon into their arrangement. He doesn’t expect the next thing that Steve says to be,

“Would you like help with it?”

“I… what?” Bucky is nodding even though he doesn’t know what that means, even though Steve isn’t there to see him nod in the first place. “Help?” he asks.

“Yes,” Steve repeats. His voice still sounds so damned nice, like he’s fond of Bucky, or proud of him. Bucky doesn’t understand. “If I give you something to help, something that can take your control of the situation away, would you like that?”

Bucky sits there on his bed with his mouth open like a dumb fish, trying to figure out what Steve could be talking about. And then he gets it. “Oh,” he breathes, realizing. “You mean… a… a cage?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, baby boy. A cock cage. Like the plastic kind. You seen them?”

“Y-yeah.” Bucky swallows, embarrassed just at the thought. But of course it’s the good kind—the only kind that Steve has ever elicited in him. And besides, Bucky remembers that he’d checked it off as something he’d like to try. Bucky bites his lip and squirms in place, imagining it. Steve, putting the cage on him, locking it and keeping him restricted in that way; Bucky, having to wear it around like that all the time, a constant reminder of the control Steve has over him. Before he knows it Bucky’s nodding against the phone and saying, “Yeah. I could… I can do that.”

“Are you sure?”

Bucky flushes. “Yeah. I uh…” the humiliation possibilities are endless. “I’ll like it. I think.” He licks his lips. “And it’ll help with the, you know, not touching myself.”

Steve chuckles. “Okay, that’s good. You were really amazing to call me right now,” he says. “When you were having doubts like that. It makes me really happy to know that you trust me enough to be open like that.”

“Oh.” Bucky doesn’t know how to answer besides a pretty lame, “Okay.” He’s never been with anyone who was so open and communicative about things. It makes Bucky feel awkward, but perhaps that’s just because it points out his own inadequacies when it comes to communication. “Thanks, I guess,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” Steve says. “You did the right thing by telling me baby boy. And you know what you get for that?”

Bucky can’t imagine. “What?”

“You can go ahead and touch yourself, Buck.”

Bucky inhales sharply, all his previous arousal rushing back to the forefront. “Seriously?!”

Steve laughs. “I wouldn’t lie about that, Sweetheart. Even I’m not that cruel. Go on and jerk off real nice, okay? Enjoy it.”

“Fuck, Steve.”

“You get to come once,” Steve adds firmly.

“What?! Once?! Why only—”

“ONE orgasm Buck, then you pack up and come on over to my place. Dinner’s at seven.”

Steve hangs up before Bucky can say anything back to that, and Bucky is left to grin like a loon at his phone, before he shakes it off and gets to work in jerking out one last perfect, rules-free orgasm.

Chapter Text

Bucky fully intends to get off his laptop in plenty of time to make it to Steve’s for dinner. But when he checks his email, there’s a rather important message sitting in his inbox that grabs his attention, and he gets sidetracked.

Capitol Sign has reneged on their internship offer… …and is instead offering him a salaried position after graduation?! Bucky spends a minute being really excited about that, happy dance and all, and then he calms down enough to start typing out his reply email that of fucking course yes please, he’d like the position. He gets about three sentences into the email before it occurs to him to think of Steve. His fingers pause on the keyboard. Should… should he tell Steve? Bucky screws up his face as he thinks about it. He sits back in his chair. Huh.

He actually, physically references their contract, which is a little bit hilarious to him. You will inform me before you make any significant changes to your appearance or your circumstances, it says. Bucky considers that. “Circumstances.” Does that include taking job offers? He doesn’t know. The contract also emphasizes that he’s supposed to prioritize his studies and career, and then right after that it goes on to state that Bucky is, responsible for telling me if any aspect of our relationship is impinging on your professional goals.

The last rule in the contract is directly below, telling Bucky to write in his journal. Bucky bites his lip and glances over to where he’d tossed the overpriced Moleskine that he’d picked up after his shift at the bookstore the other day. He hasn’t written in it yet, but he’d bought it with this in mind. Ah well, he thinks. Why not break it in?

Bucky hasn’t journaled since middle school. He hasn’t written at any length with an actual pen and paper in he can’t remember how long. So he feels pretty juvenile as he starts writing down the things that come to mind.

I got the CS job I wanted. Im going to accept it. I dont want to have to ask Steve before I take it. Thats stupid. Im a grown ass adult i can do things on my own. Dont want to ask Steve. …But I think I should?

He bites his lip as he stares at that one simple admission, then adds,

I dont want to have to /ask/ him. But maybe itd be nice to have to /tell/ him. Maybe thats what Steve meant, in the contract. I’ll ask him tonight.

A little more thought goes a long way, and before Bucky knows it he’s gotten cerebral and has spent too much time jotting down his thoughts about the way that BDSM affects him on like, a deeper level, or whatever, and he’s totally blowing his own mind with self-reflection. But then he glances to the clock and curses out loud because, “Fuck!” It’s six fifty and Steve said dinner was at seven. Bucky slaps the journal shut and gets a move on.


“You’re late,” Steve drawls when he opens the front door to let Bucky in. He’s wearing a LOUD, red white and blue apron, which is ridiculous absolutely delightful, and he starts walking back towards the kitchen, apparently expecting Bucky to just follow along. He does.

“Yeah.” Bucky takes his jacket off and tosses it over one of the bar stools. He hops up to sitting on the counter and watches as Steve stirs whatever’s on the stove. “Sorry,” he says. “I got sidetracked. What’re you cooking? And more importantly, what are you wearing?

Steve spares him a brief, sly glance. He keeps his attention on the stove. “Shrimp Florentine,” he says. “And my friend Sam’s idea of a great birthday present.”

Bucky hums, eyeing him up and down. Steve’s butt is very nice in any pair of pants he wears, of course, but something about the way the apron ties in the back really emphasizes it. “It is a great birthday present,” he says. “God bless America.”

Steve snorts, stirring whatever the hell smells so good in the pots. “My birthday is the fourth of July,” he says ruefully.

“Oh, you poor thing.”


“Well it could be worse,” Bucky says. “My one sister Becs was born two days before Christmas.”


“Yeah. At least you don’t have to share your birthday with Jesus.”

“Just America.”

Eh.” Steve laughs, which is a wonderful sound and makes Bucky smile and feel special for being the one to make him laugh in the first place. He kicks his leg out to get Steve in the butt, but just barely misses from his distance on the island countertop. Steve sees it though, and he shoots Bucky a warning look. Bucky tucks his lips in. He loves that look. “So… the reason I was late,” he says.

“Yeah, you should tell me about that. Let me know what I’ll be punishing you for, later.”

“Hey!” If Bucky’s insides do a happy squirm at Steve’s words, nobody but he has to know. “I was late because I was following one of your directions, Sir.” He pokes out his tongue. “So you definitely don’t get to punish me.”

Steve still looks very amused, but he goes back to cooking. “What direction was that, then?”

“The journaling thing,” Bucky grunts. “Which I don’t even know about, Steve. I mean it’s nice that you’re willing to give me that privacy and all, but I kind of feel like I’ll just end up wanting to tell you about everything I write in it, anyway.” Steve hums and is quiet, which prompts Bucky to try and poke him with his foot again. He misses. “Well?”

“Did you consider that maybe that’s one of the best ways you could use it?” Steve asks.

“I… huh?”

Steve looks over at him, pasta fork in hand and expression calm as can be. “When you edited the contract, you made a point of telling me that you weren’t sure if you could be good about communicating what you think and feel. You said it was hard for you and that I should be bossy to encourage you.”

“I… yeah.” Bucky swallows, remembering, feeling flushed and safe at the reminder that he has Steve to take care of him. “Yeah you should.”

Steve smiles softly, nodding. “I will, baby. But your journal can help, too. If you think of things on your own that seem important, you can jot them down.”

“And read them to you?”

Steve nods, stirring the pasta. “Sure, if you want. I can ask you about it sometimes, if you’d prefer.”

Bucky nods, feeling nervous but somehow pleased by that at the same time. “Yeah,” he says breathily. “Yeah that’d be easier.”

“Easier than initiating a whole conversation yourself,” Steve says, and Bucky nods because fuck, it’s like Steve just knows him sometimes. Like he’s crawled inside his brain and memorized a few, very important facets therein before slithering back out.

“Yeah,” Bucky says dumbly. “Yeah, that.”

Steve snickers, flicking off the burners and dumping one pot’s contents in with the other. “Come on, dinner time.”


For the first time ever, they don’t eat in Steve’s formal dining room. Steve’s got a set of cheap plastic chairs and matching table set out on the back porch, and they eat their dinner there, listening to distant city noises and the chirp of late spring bugs. Steve, as it turns out, is a great cook and has no logical need to keep a man like Phillip in his service after all.

“This is nice,” Bucky says, once they’ve finished their plates and Steve has brought out some chilled wine. They’re sitting squished together on the porch swing and Steve is rubbing Bucky’s shoulder until he gets the nerve up to read him what he’s written in his journal. “Well first off, I got a job offer,” he says. That part’s easy to talk about. “I saw the email tonight before I came over, which is what made me think to write in the journal in the first place.” He glances over at Steve. “I’m going to take it.”

Steve sips his wine in an infuriatingly calm manner before he answers, “The job, you mean.”

Bucky huffs. “Duh. Of course the job.”

Steve chuckles lowly, his hand that he has on Bucky’s shoulder tightening marginally. “If you’re aiming for bratty, you’re on the right course, baby boy.” He puts his lips to Bucky’s ear. “You need something, just ask for it.” He pecks a light kiss and goes back to sipping his wine, easy as anything.

But Bucky’s quivering, Steve’s unspoken threat lancing through him in a pleasant rush. “I… I wasn’t, Steve,” he says. “But that’s one of the other things I wrote about.”


Bucky inhales, takes a fortifying sip of his wine, then hands it aside for Steve to hold while he pulls his journal over and opens it. “I guess I got all philosophical, or whatever. S’kinda stupid.”

“Nothing you write in there is stupid,” Steve corrects. “Okay?”

“…I wrote about how this all makes me feel,” Bucky says. “This BDSM stuff we’re doing.”

Steve, bless him, is calm and patient. His face looks understanding and ready to listen. “Tell me,” he says kindly. It’s not an order, but Bucky allows himself to take it as one.

“I uh,” he looks at what he’d written on the page. “Well aside from the job thing, I was thinking about what we do. And um, well I’ve played around a lot before. You know that.”

“I do,” Steve agrees. “Not always with the best people, in my opinion.”

“Yeah, well.” Bucky sighs. “I always thought of myself as really experienced, you know? And I mean I still think I am compared to a lot of people, but I uh… I realized I’ve never dealt with like, the emotional aspects of it, you know?” He shrugs, glancing back down to the journal and tracing a finger over what he’d written only hours before. “I mean it was always a game before. One kinky thing at a time, here or there, for fun.”

“Piecemeal,” Steve says, and Bucky nods.

“Yeah. I never got to the point where I could think about the things I’m thinking about now.”

“Which are?” Steve doesn’t sound impatient, he just sounds interested. “Bucky?”

“What it does for me,” Bucky says. “The obeying. The being praised and controlled. Being hurt when I want it. …and when I don’t.” He looks over at Steve cautiously. “I realized that it’s starting to not just be about sex anymore.”

Steve looks pleased and calm, and completely unsurprised. He hands Bucky’s wine glass back to him. Bucky takes a grateful sip and Steve tells him, “I think I know where you’re going with this, but explain it to me.”

“I wind up feeling better,” Bucky says. “It’s like… it’s like there’s this tightness that I didn’t even notice was ever there until we started seeing each other, and sometimes when you do certain things it goes away and I feel better for a while.” Bucky chews his lip, avoiding Steve’s gaze. “Then when the tightness comes back, I… well I notice it, now.”

Steve is quiet for a long minute, the only sound that of the swing’s tension and the bugs in the backyard. “When was the first time you noticed it?” he finally asks.

“I dunno.”


“I don’t know, Steve. I just…” Bucky thinks about it, sighs and lets his head flop against Steve’s shoulder. “This is all in retrospect. Just… when I was writing all this down earlier, I kept thinking about the night when you caned me.”


“I hated that,” Bucky says, feeling his cheeks color despite himself. At least it’s dark out and Steve can’t see it. “You know?”

“I do.”

Bucky sighs. “But I didn’t hate it after. After, I felt…”


“Yeah that’s the word you used. But Steve, it was like… it was like a layer of dead skin had been scrubbed off. The tightness was gone.” Bucky glances over at Steve, meeting his eyes. “So it’s not just sex,” he reiterates. “Not anymore. Maybe it never was. I… I think I’ve been seeking out sex—crazy, kinky, whatever sex—for a long time, trying to make the tightness go away. But it never did.”

“Never?” Steve asks gently.

Bucky shakes his head. “Not for long, anyways. Sometimes with Gavin and Brock. But mostly it was just a lot of misplaced effort. Now with this thing with you, it’s just so easy. And with the twenty-four seven thing hanging over my head, I feel like there’re pieces slotting into place. I feel right.” Bucky huffs, suddenly embarrassed at what a freaking confused-as-fuck love declaration that must sound like. “I mean it’s not like I love you I just—”

“Baby,” Steve chuckles, and he’s pulling Bucky in tighter against his side. “Hey, it’s okay. I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm.” Steve kisses his head and whispers conspiratorially, “You’re one of the serious cases, like me.” Bucky snorts. “You don’t just love the submission, you kind of need it.” He looks down at Bucky. “Obviously it’s dominance in my case, but the idea’s the same.” Steve shrugs. “Some people need a little bit of Xanax to get them through the day. We just do this.”

Seriously?” Bucky drawls, which makes Steve laugh.

“Hey, I wasn’t going to speak for you, ever. I didn’t know you had it as bad as me. But with what you just told me you wrote in there,” he nods at the journal, “it sounds like you do.” He smiles and drinks his wine, and so Bucky drinks his as well. The chill from the wine mixes with the crisp night air and Bucky feels driven to snuggle in closer to Steve’s side.

“I thought I was just getting all heady about it,” he admits. “Didn’t want to sound needy.”

“Being needy isn’t bad,” Steve says. “It’s what I like.”

“Kay.” Bucky scrubs his cheek against Steve’s shoulder, obviously bashful. Steve notices.

“And that’s why you’re going to keep using your journal,” he says firmly. “I’ll ask you about it just like we said. If you don’t want to share you don’t have to share. But I hate the idea that you’d keep something like this to yourself and then you’d feel bad over it and not tell me.”

Bucky glows at that. He turns his face so that he can place a kiss to Steve’s neck, scraping his teeth over a tendon at the tail-end of it. “I like that you get stern when you’re worried about me,” he teases.

Steve huffs, though his fingers do dig pleasantly into Bucky’s side. “Yeah well, I did say I had a bad case of it, too.”

“Daddy, you can refill your prescription of My Ass anytime you need.”

Steve groans and presses his free hand against Bucky’s mouth in a weak attempt to shut him up. “Christ. I’m gagging you just for that.”

Bucky just snickers and bites sharply at Steve’s fingers.


Steve declares that they’ll take a bath before they do anything else, which Bucky of course thinks is a stupid waste of time. He tells Steve so and Steve just pinches him and orders him to get undressed. “Neatly,” he reminds, watching with a smirk as Bucky takes the time to fold up his clothes. “It’s romantic,” he corrects.

“It’s a stupid, romantic waste of time,” Bucky agrees. Only this time he’s bare-assed so the pinch he gets is way more satisfying. He finishes folding his clothes and sets them in the closet. Steve’s closet, he notes, is meticulously organized. The neat little rows of neckties and shirts and cufflinks and watches is oddly sexy (and in stark contrast to the overflowing laundry basket that’s shoved in the corner). Bucky wrinkles his nose at it, then goes into the bathroom where Steve is filling the tub with hot water. “You’re a paradox, Steve,” he says, most of his attention focused on the fine sight of Steve’s naked backside leaning over the tub. Bucky can see everything.

“Breaking out the big words now, huh?”

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, getting close enough to drape himself over Steve’s back. “I was just thinking how you’re always making me fold up my dirty clothes so freaking nice, and now I see you’ve got a bomb that went off in your laundry basket.”

Steve laughs and straightens up, turning to pull Bucky into his arms. He kisses him, warm and amused and one of his big hands gripping the back of Bucky’s neck harshly enough to make him sigh and shiver. When Steve pulls back, the look on his face is smug. “I don’t have to fold a damn thing if I don’t feel like it.”

“Doesn’t seem fair,” Bucky says, his voice coming out breathier than he means for it to. “You get to be sloppy and I have to be good?”

“You have to be whatever I say you have to be, honey.” Steve grins like a shark and squeezes the back of Bucky’s neck again, using his other hand to pull Bucky in until their hipbones bump. Bucky can feel that Steve is at least as affected as he is. “But you like that, don’t you?”

“Uh huh,” Bucky breathes. He pushes his hips forward experimentally to see if Steve will let him rub his barely hard dick against his thigh. He does. “Daddy, can we—”

“No,” Steve cuts him off. “We’re getting a bath first.” Bucky whines and Steve puts his lips to his ear to whisper, “Shh, none of that. Gotta get every inch of you clean, baby boy.” He shoves his hand between his legs, palm over his cock and balls and even reaching back to cup most of Bucky’s perineum. “Every. inch.” He kisses the shell of his ear and then pulls back, meeting Bucky’s blown out eyes to tell him, “I’ve got plans for you tonight. Now get your butt in the tub.”

Steve doesn’t have to tell him again.


“So the job,” Steve says once they’re settled into the bath together, Steve’s large, golden body in front of Bucky and leaning back against him. “You said you took it.”

Bucky nods where Steve can’t see, threads his hands under Steve’s armpits and runs his palms over his huge pecs. “Yeah,” he answers. “I emailed back saying I accept the position.” Steve is quiet for a long minute, which makes Bucky nervous. “Are you… are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says hurriedly. He rubs over the tops of Bucky’s thighs in comfort. “No Buck, I’m not. I do wish you’d told me about it, but I would never tell you that you can’t make a decision like that for yourself.”

Bucky bites his lip, still feeling wrong somehow. “…Okay. Thank you.”

“…Is the job local?” Steve asks, and his light, overly-nonchalant tone is telling. Bucky feels bad right away.

“Oh, Steve. Yes it’s local. Fuck, did you think… Aw, hell.” He hugs Steve from behind. “I wouldn’t have accepted it if it wasn’t. Not without telling you. I don’t want to leave.”

Steve sighs in relief. “Oh, okay. I just didn’t know.”

Fuck. Bucky huffs against the skin at the back of Steve’s neck. “I should’ve said. I made you worry. I should’ve told you about it anyway.”

“I said you don’t have to.”

“Yeah well…” Bucky shrugs, the movement felt against Steve’s back. “Maybe I want to anyway. I like you having control of me. I trust that you wouldn’t, you know, make rules that would hurt me.” Bucky blushes, just barely able to distinguish the heat in his face from that brought on by the bathwater. “I uh, I really like the idea of you taking care of me. I’ve never had that and I… well I just like it. Kind of.”

“Yeah?” Steve hums. He grips Bucky’s knee under the water and gives it a slow squeeze. Bucky gets the distinct feeling that Steve is thrilled, but he can’t know for sure. “Okay, baby boy,” is all Steve says, voice quiet and pleased. He lets his head tip back more to rest against Bucky’s shoulder, relaxing and letting all his breath out at once.

When Bucky looks, he sees that Steve’s eyes are closed. He smiles, happy to see Steve looking so serene. He kisses his temple. “It’s in Woodley Park,” he tells him.

“What? The job?”

“Duh. Keep up, Grandpa.”

Steve grunts but he doesn’t bother to reprimand Bucky with a pinch or anything like that. His eyes are still closed. He’s too relaxed. “Watch your mouth,” he warns, though there’s no effort put into it.

It just makes Bucky chuckle. He closes his teeth against the side of Steve’s neck. “Yes, Sir.”

“When are they having you start?” Steve asks.

“I asked for August,” Bucky says. “I wanted some time off first.”

“That’s smart. Do they offer competitive benefits?”

Bucky is suddenly, distinctly reminded of his mom; trying to make sure that Bucky has all his ducks in a row by asking a million questions. He huffs and pushes the comparison away. “Yeah. Health, 401k, vacation; all that good stuff. The pay’s… horrible not great, but I’ll manage. It’s a really good firm to start out in.” Steve is quiet and still for a long moment, which tells Bucky that he’s thinking. “What?” Bucky prods.

“Hm? Oh, well I was just thinking.” Steve pauses, then says, “You know I’d support you, right?”

Bucky tenses, trying to decide what Steve means by that. “What are you saying?” he asks. “‘Support’?” He’s got a feeling he knows what Steve’s saying, but he wants to make sure. “Steve?”

Steve shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I just don’t want you to ever feel like you have to struggle to make things work. If you do, I’ll help. In fact, I wouldn’t mind giving you a regular allowance anyway, if you’d let me.”

Bucky gapes, though he’s behind Steve and knows that he can’t see. “I… Steve, what?”

“Come on, Buck. You know what.”

“Yeah I fucking know what,” Bucky says, voice sharp. “But I don’t… I mean I didn’t think that was part of our… our arrangement.”
Again, Steve shrugs like it’s no big deal, and it’s infuriating. “It doesn’t have to be if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“But you want to give me money.”

“Yeah. I’d like to. It makes me happy to know you have everything you need and want.” Steve waits, and then, delicately, he says, “Ease up on my tits, honey.”

Bucky inhales, realizes that he’s been digging his nails into Steve’s pecs. “Oh.” He shakes himself out of it, hands relaxing and pulling back. Steve intercepts them in the water and pulls them back around his waist. “Sorry,” Bucky says. “I just… wouldn’t that make me your, um, like your sugarbaby or something?”

Steve laughs, full-body, and it makes the water slosh in the tub around them. “Yeah, I guess. I’d like to think of it as me spoiling my boyfriend, but I’ll be your sugardaddy if you want.”

Bucky snorts. “Well I dunno.” He takes a minute to think about that; about how he’d feel with a few extra thousand in his bank account each month, enough to cover all his bills and buy himself things he wants but doesn’t need. He could save, wouldn’t ever have to worry about making rent even if Clint and Natasha got a place on their own. Maybe it’s embarrassing, but Bucky finds that he really likes the idea of Steve taking care of him in that way. “I dunno,” he winds up mumbling. He presses his face into Steve’s shoulder to hide. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Steve laughs again and scolds him. “Don’t even worry, Bucky. I’m rich, remember?”

“Oh believe me, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Spoiling you will make me happy,” he insists. “I can afford to throw money at you if I want.”

Bucky blushes and squirms and says, “Well… only if you want.” Then Steve tells him to get to work in washing every inch of his big, glorious body, and Bucky very eagerly does.


“Sit on the bed,” Steve directs when they both pad into the bedroom, naked and towel-dried and relaxed from the bath. Steve had insisted on blow-drying Bucky’s hair, which was ridiculous but felt amazing. Bucky sits and pushes it behind his ears, wishing he had a hair tie as he watches Steve move about the room. It’s a nice view that he’s got to admire as he waits. Steve moves around so unselfconsciously when he’s naked; big and confident and unexpectedly graceful in the way a great cat is. His hair is darker when it’s wet, and his pale complexion gets lobster-red when he’s fresh from the bath. Right now, his skin is just cooling down to a nice, pinked color, and it’s oddly endearing to Bucky. He smiles, averting his eyes to the tops of his own feet as he waits.


Steve walks until his toes come into line with Bucky’s own. He watches as Bucky notices him, enjoying the excited look that lights up his face when he sees what Steve’s brought over. “Yes,” he says, before even being asked the question.

Steve laughs. “Don’t even want to hear what I’ve got planned for you?” Bucky shakes his head ‘no’ and Steve tuts to scold him. He takes Bucky’s chin between his fingers and raises a stern eyebrow when he meets his eyes. “Don’t be so trusting, Bucky. Always give yourself time to think about what I’m asking of you.”

Bucky whines, which is cute but inappropriate. Steve shakes his head at him. Bucky stops whining. “I like hoods,” he says. “No problem.”

Steve nods. He figured that Bucky would, but he’s trying to train Bucky out of blind acceptance. “You let your enthusiasm get the best of you, baby boy,” he says disapprovingly. He shoves Bucky to get him up on the bed. “Lay on your back, over here near the edge where I can reach you.” Bucky listens, and Steve runs a hand down his body from neck to navel. The way that Bucky shivers and fights to stay still, even as his cock jerks against his thigh, is wonderful. Steve switches to touching him with just one finger, trailing it down his stomach to his groin, then tracing the crease of his thigh and up along the length of his awakening cock. “Look at that,” he murmurs. “You excited to play?”

Bucky nods enthusiastically. “Yeah,” he breathes.

“That’s good.” Steve keeps running his finger up and down Bucky’s cock, tracing the shape of it with a feather-light touch and soaking up the way that it twitches and grows. “Here’s what I want to do,” Steve says, purposefully keeping his voice delicate. “That hood will go over your face. You won’t be able to hear or see anything. And I mean anything.”

“I know. I can tell from looking at it.”

Steve flicks the soft skin of Bucky’s sac in reprimand for interrupting, smirking at the way he flinches before going back to tracing up and down his cock. “If you talk, I probably won’t be able to understand what you’re saying. Your breathing won’t be restricted by much, but a little.” He looks at Bucky sternly. “Color on that?”

“…Green,” Bucky says. It’s not confident though, and when Steve glares at him warningly Bucky amends, “I think it’ll be fine. Nothing in my mouth, right?”

“Right.” Steve nods. “Just a hole for you to breathe through. It’s small.”

Bucky nods, reassured. “I can do it.”

“You’ll tell me that again when you’ve had it on for five minutes,” Steve warns, and is satisfied when Bucky nods and looks at him obediently and like he’s in love.

“Yes, Steve,” he says quietly.

Steve smiles. “Good boy.” His eyes flick back to the rest of the stuff he’s laid out on the bed. He starts back up with Bucky’s cock, rearranging it so that it can lay up against his stomach, tracing the vein that runs along the underside that’s just faintly visible. Bucky shivers and it makes the muscles low in his stomach clench. “So pretty,” Steve can’t help but mutter fondly. He loves his boy’s body. Privately, he thinks that he’ll have to tell Bucky that more in the future. Not tonight though. Tonight Bucky’s going to live through a world of touch. “And the rest?” Steve asks quietly. “You down for a little sensation play?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, which makes that angry thrill zip through Steve. Except it’s not anger, not really. It’s a hot urge to dominate, to take and control and put something in its place. It lives low in his belly, dormant in the dark places that Steve usually leaves alone. That is until there’s a sub to make it stir. Bucky does that, does it all the time in fact. And Steve loves it. He knows he can never tell Bucky how much he enjoys it when he acts like a brat. He’ll never get his sweet Boy back, if he does. “Restraints?” he asks, because he knows Bucky catalogued them the moment they came out.

“Yes,” Bucky breathes. “Please.” He spreads himself helpfully, eagerly; arms up toward the headboard.

Steve hums in approval. “Good.” He takes the hood and puts it on Bucky, tucking his hair out of the way and murmuring, “That’s why we used the blow dryer, brat.” The hood covers Bucky’s whole face, his head, obstructing and restricting. It’s a lot, but Bucky lays there like the sweetest doll and lets him work.

It’s not a beginner’s toy. Steve would never use it on any sub that was even remotely new to the lifestyle. In fact, he wouldn’t have brought it out for Bucky, but for the fact that Steve knows from Bucky’s kink list that he enjoys the use of heavy-duty sensory deprivation. Heavy duty is exactly what this is. Bucky is completely blind right now, Steve knows. Before he locks in the piece that will block Bucky’s hearing, Steve puts his lips right to his ear and speaks through the leather. “Use this, okay?” He presses the safety buzzer into Bucky’s palm. “Understand?”

Bucky nods.

“Push it.”

Bucky’s thumb curls in and presses the button, which makes the buzzer go off. Steve reaches down and strokes Bucky’s balls with a curl of fingers. “Good boy.” Bucky makes a noise through the hood, and Steve smiles. He kisses the leather over Bucky’s ear. “See you later, Sweetheart.” He locks the second layer in place and knows that Bucky’s world has gone silent.

As promised, Steve leaves Bucky alone just like that for five whole minutes. He sits on the edge of the bed and watches his body for any tells as he gets used to it. Bucky stays mostly still. He twitches a little, shifting in place to reorient himself deeper through touch. Steve allows it, watching the way Bucky seems to settle into it, how his prick stays as hard as it was before, not softening much even though Steve’s not touching him anymore.

He’s turned on by this.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs when the five minutes are up. “Good.” Bucky’s breathing has evened out and he’s lying still, so Steve allows himself to start touching him again. He lays both hands flat on Bucky’s chest, expecting him to startle. He does, but stills quickly. Steve smiles down at him. “Gotta get used to that,” he says, even though Bucky obviously can’t hear him. “Gonna be a lot of touches you don’t expect, now.” He runs his hands up and down Bucky’s chest and stomach, rubbing the skin and just letting him get used to the feeling of being touched when he’s so completely disoriented.

“You know,” Steve says thoughtfully. “I’ve done this to a sub with full-body suspension before.” He tickles his fingers down the sides of Bucky’s ribcage, earning a shiver. “You should be grateful you at least have the bed to orient you.”

Bucky says nothing, but Steve just grins down at him, feeling giddy from the possibilities. He can do whatever he wants. He’s going to make Bucky feel everything


The first thing to go is sight, then sound, then the only thing there is to focus on is the feeling of the sheets beneath his back and the little buzzer in his palm. Steve is still sitting on the bed because his weight hasn’t shifted away. But he’s not touching Bucky. Bucky thinks he’s just sitting still, but he can’t be sure. He feels like Steve must be staring at him. The thought makes him shiver, feeling wonderfully exposed. The loss of control from the hood is different than what comes from restraints, but just as good. Bucky has to focus on his breathing to keep it even. It’s scary at first, the way the hood covers his whole face. He can’t move his mouth correctly underneath it, can’t speak. The hot whoosh of his own breath hits back at him underneath the leather, a circle that’s hardly bigger than a quarter letting him breathe just enough. Bucky’s had a hood like this on before, so he knows it’ll be okay, but it’s very overwhelming for the first minute or so, just regulating his breathing and accepting that this isn’t going to go away. He’s stuck like this, and Steve gets to control what happens.

It’s that last part that really helps him to settle down. The thought that Steve is out there, controlling everything that happens now, makes Bucky feel safe. He trusts Steve. Steve will take care of him. Steve will give him what he needs.

Bucky jerks when Steve touches his chest, making a muffled noise of surprise through the hood. He lays there and pants, overwhelmed by the feeling of Steve touching him after those long minutes of nothing. His skin is so sensitive. Steve is only rubbing up and down his torso, but to Bucky it feels like one of the most erotic things he’s ever experienced. “Mmf,” he sounds behind the hood. If Steve has any reaction whatsoever to this, he’ll never know.

The next thing Bucky knows, Steve’s taking his wrists and wrapping the restraints around them. They’re leather cuffs and they feel so nice as Steve buckles them shut, making them tight enough that the fleece lining holds his wrists snuggly. Bucky would be saying “Thank you, Sir,” right about now, if he could. He waits until he knows he’s restrained to the headboard before he gives a testing pull. It’s slack enough to be comfortable. He can feel the creak of where the leather is tied to the bed.

Steve’s hands reappear and Bucky shivers. The hands are gentle, smoothing over his shoulders, thumbs stroking his collarbones. Bucky turns his head against the bed, seeking stimulation and getting none. Steve’s hands disappear and he whimpers, the sound louder than normal in his head. Steve’s hands land on his chest and drag down, this time with just a hint of nails that scratch at Bucky’s brain as much as they do his skin. The hands disappear. They’re on his thighs. They disappear, they’re on his ankles.

Bucky starts making little noises every time Steve touches him, knowing that it’s going to go away and then come back somewhere he can’t predict. He feels so, so out of control; unmoored and the only real tether that he has is his own breathing, his own pulse in his ears and the bed beneath him. He feels it as Steve shifts and stands up, and then he doesn’t even have the feeling of Steve’s weight on the mattress to predict what he’s going to do next. Bucky whimpers and feels his cock jerk in anticipation.

Steve’s hand wraps around his cock and Bucky nearly flies out of his skin. He breathes heavily through the hood, harsh pants that he’s sure Steve can hear. One of Steve’s hands slides up to touch Bucky’s hand that’s holding the buzzer. It stays there, unmoving, and Bucky recognizes it for the question that it is. He huffs behind the hood and shakes his head once. No, Steve, he’s saying. No. I’m okay. Steve’s hand leaves his.

Slick drips onto Bucky’s cock, which of course makes him startle again. Steve strokes him to hardness with little preamble, perfunctory. Then there’s a tight squeeze and slide that Bucky recognizes as a cock ring. He groans at the realization that Steve isn’t going to let him come. At least not anytime soon. He lifts his head, lets it thunk back down. He huffs.

Steve rolls the ring down him and stretches it back behind his balls. Then of course his hands disappear again. Bucky is left to lay there and take in the feeling of having his dick constrained like that. He feels it acutely; his pulse collecting in that one place until it feels like all the blood in his body is there, hot and throbbing beneath the skin. Bucky can’t gauge exactly how hard he is like this. He has to wiggle his hips to feel his cock move, to figure it out. That’s apparently the wrong thing to do, since the next thing he feels is Steve’s pinch to his inner thigh. Bucky stills and is rewarded by a pet over where the hurt was.

Steve’s one hand appears at the front of his throat, cupping him there; a warm, safe width like a collar wrapping around. Bucky moans and tilts his head back, offering his throat up for more. Steve’s hand tightens minutely and stays in place. His other hand is running softly all over Bucky’s skin; over his stomach and chest, the undersides of his arms and the divots of his hipbones. Bucky can’t help but whimper when Steve skims just the tips of his fingers against his cockhead. Fuck, but it feels so good. It’s such a tease, and Bucky is salivating for more. He tries not to wriggle too much, tries to keep still and allow Steve to set the pace. But it’s so damned hard when Steve’s hands are so close to where he wants them to be. Bucky gives into the urge to let his hips thrust up, and for one glorious second, his cock is actually getting some real attention from Steve’s hand.

Steve pulls away. Bucky groans like he’s dying. Behind the hood, he’s panting, desperate and turned on. God, he’s so turned on. He can’t see anything or hear anything. All he’s got is Steve and Steve is being so damned elusive. Bucky tugs against the restraints to remind himself of where he is, to remember that there’s nothing he can do but lie back and accept it. He swallows, digging his head back into the pillow and trying to calm his breathing. Maybe Steve can tell that he’s trying to be good, because the next thing Bucky knows, Steve’s weight is dipping back onto the bed and his warm palms are smoothing up and down his ribcage, petting him like some skittish horse. Bucky pants and calms, and then relaxes all his muscles where he lies. He spreads his thighs, trying to show that he’s okay, that he’s ready for whatever Steve wants to give him.

Steve touches his neck, and after a second Bucky realizes it’s his mouth—Steve is kissing him, running his lips over the heated skin of his neck and murmuring words. Bucky can feel the vibrations of his voice, even if he can’t hear the words. He smiles behind the hood, lulled into a sense of peace by that. Steve is having so much fun with this, he thinks. He’s got Bucky, bound and helpless and offered up to him like a feast, and Bucky is being a good boy for him, just letting him do whatever he wants. Bucky is hit by a sudden rush of endorphins, the sticky-slow feeling of molasses coming on more suddenly than it usually does. Oh, Bucky thinks with a smile, it’s good, and he makes a sound of pleasure from behind the leather covering his face.

Steve’s mouth pulls away and then it’s just his hands again. They become smoother and warmer than before, and when a pleasant scent hits Bucky’s nose, he figures out that Steve has rubbed massage oil all over his hands. He shivers, enjoying the difference in sensation as Steve touches him. Warm, strong hands run up his stomach and then tickle back down his ribs. They knead the muscles of Bucky’s forearms in an excruciatingly erotic way. Bucky’s cock is throbbing from being touched in places that just aren’t supposed to feel this good.

Suddenly, Steve smacks him right on his pecs, then squeezes there. Bucky groans deeply and pushes up against it. Fuck, yeah. Tight, cruel little pinches to his nipples, a smear of something wet, and then—oh fuck—then the pinch of clamps. One and then two. Steve is putting fucking nipple clamps on him and Bucky is honestly dying! Oh, oh it hurts so much. Bucky’s gritting his teeth and making a strange keening sound and wondering what the hell kind of sadistic fucking clamps Steve’s put on him. Is it just the fact that he can’t see or are his nipples one thousand times more sensitive right now?!

Then Steve blows on them, and Bucky gasps, and Oh. That minty tingle tells Bucky ALL he needs to know. He makes another animal noise of displeasure and thunks his head back into the pillow, because GodFuckingDamnit Steve; he’s gone and remembered Bucky’s long-ago suggestion about warming cream. Fuuuuck. Bucky squirms and whines as the cream makes his nipples grow cold and then hot, the burn growing more and more under the tight pinch of the clamps. Steve aggravates it by tugging and flicking the clamps every now and then, reigniting the burn and making Bucky hiss in displeasure. Maybe Steve would stop, but for the fact that he knows Bucky likes this sort of pain. But for the fact that Bucky’s traitorous dick is jumping around at the feeling of it.

All of a sudden, Steve grabs his cock and gives a too-hard stroke. Bucky yells, hips shoving up into it but getting nothing more than a firm shove back to the mattress. Bucky gulps, his exhale coming out as a sort of sob. Fuck, but this is so much. Steve is doing everything to him and Bucky can’t grasp on, can’t fully settle into one thing before it’s over and Steve is moving on to the next. Bucky feels like a fish stranded on some boat’s deck, flopping around uselessly and just waiting to be kicked back into the water that he actually knows and can function in.

Steve blows against his nipples and makes them burn again. He drags his fingernails down Bucky’s abs and all the way down to the very edge of his groin. He touches the tip of his tongue to the tip of Bucky’s dick and Bucky nearly chokes. He goes down and licks Bucky’s balls, then licks and pinches his inner thighs until Bucky thinks he’s going to scream.

He disappears.

He comes back. He’s gotten more massage oil and he rolls Bucky’s testicles in his hands in like, eighteen different ways, then rubs the skin behind and taps his asshole. He takes his hands away altogether and for all Bucky knows, leaves the room. His weight is off the bed and Bucky doesn’t know whether to feel watched or abandoned. Is Steve standing one foot away, jerking off? Is he halfway to the kitchen to microwave a piece of pizza? Fuck, but it’s dizzying not to know. Bucky just wants to know. He lies there and pants, trying to calm his breathing and figure out if he’s alone. He doesn’t moan out in frustration until it’s been what feels like at least three full minutes. Steve does nothing.

…Bucky screams as HOTHOTHOT hits his chest. And really, it’s not that hot but he hadn’t known it was coming, and he’s sobbing behind the mask from sheer helplessness. It’s wax, he knows it is, and he likes wax, but this is just insane how overwhelmingly helpless he feels. He can’t do anything. Steve can do anything he wants to him and Bucky can’t do fucking anything about it. It’s making him cry, how much he likes that.

Steve must be able to tell he’s crying because his one hand appears on Bucky’s hand again, touching where the buzzer is nestled in his palm. Are you okay?

Bucky heaves in a huge breath and nods and flexes his hand out wide. Yeah. Keep going. Steve stops touching his hand.

Despite how he’d shrieked when the wax hit, it isn’t too painful. It’s the type that’s made for this kind of play, Bucky can tell as Steve uses his nails to pick some of it off from his chest. There’d be a lot more soreness to his skin, if it weren’t. His breath catches precariously when Steve flicks the wax off that’s nearest to his nipples, and his mind is still focused on that when Steve’s over-slicked hand suddenly envelopes him like somebody’s wet cunt, and Bucky makes a noise like he’s been punched in the gut and is dying. Steve’s got half a bottle’s worth of lube in his fist and is moving it over Bucky’s cock in what feels like the lewdest drag ever. This time Bucky’s hips do chase the sensation, but he thinks that he can hardly be blamed for it when he’s getting this.

Oh, it’s so fucking good. He’s gonna fucking—

The wax drips down on him again, this time on his very lower stomach right where his pubes start and Bucky shrieks. Now his body is jolting from panic and fear for his dick’s life, but Steve’s still fisting him with AllThatLube, and goddamn him for making Bucky feel so many things at the same time! Bucky’s arms jerk in the restraints, a sob leaving his chest and his breathing coming ragged. He tosses his head against the pillow, overwhelmed.

The wax gets dripped on his stomach and inner thighs, but it’s only little bits here and there, and Steve is working his cock thoroughly. Bucky grunts and moans and thrusts up against Steve’s tight, wet fist, but he can’t get close enough to come. And then he remembers the cock ring Steve put on him. Fuck. Bucky grits his teeth and squeezes his hands into fists in frustration. This is the wrong thing to do, as it makes the buzzer go off. Bucky inhales sharply, Shit.

Steve, of course, stops everything immediately. Bucky can practically smell his fear. Steve’s weight leaves the bed, then hands are undoing the hood. Bucky tries to shake his head to indicate that he’s alright, but to Steve it probably just seems like more panic. Bucky has to wait until Steve’s got the hood halfway off his face before he can speak and tell him, “I’m fine!”

Steve’s fingers freeze. The hood is rolled halfway up Bucky’s face, his eyes and ears still covered. Steve’s fingers go to the earpiece and take it off. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallows, realizes how horribly thirsty he is. “M’fine. Didn’t mean to.”

Steve’s big hand wraps around Bucky’s throat again, squeezing gently. “Are you lying to me?”

“No!” Bucky shakes his head fast. “No, m’not. Swear. I forgot.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, and for a moment Bucky is scared that he isn’t going to believe him and he’ll end the scene, but he doesn’t. Steve relaxes his hold on Bucky’s neck. “Okay,” he says. “Want to keep going, with safewords?”

“But I—”

“It’s that or we stop,” Steve says sternly. He grabs Bucky’s jaw and turns his face in his direction. “Listen to you: you can barely talk as it is. I want your ears and your mouth free.”

Bucky gulps, realizing that this is his only choice. At least Steve isn’t taking the blindfold away. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Water?”

Steve abandons him right away with a huffed, “Of course.” And he’s back in no time and holding Bucky’s head up enough for him not to choke on the water he gives him. When Bucky’s done and Steve’s wiping his mouth for him, he asks, “How’re you doing, Buck?”

Bucky smiles, feeling like the luckiest boy in the world. “M’so fucking happy,” he says, able to hear how his voice has gone a little slurred. He doesn’t care. He feels slurred. He’s floaty and good, and Steve did that to him. He loves Steve. “So good. Thank you.”

Steve hums. “You’re welcome, baby. Do you need a break?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Mm mn. No. Please.”

Steve’s hand leaves his jaw, and the next thing Bucky knows he’s being slapped across the face. His head turns with it and he moans like he’s coming. “Oooh, fuck. Daddy.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s voice is dark. He’s moving away, then coming back. “You like that, honey? Being slapped around a little bit?”

Fuck, that voice. Bucky wants to be talked to in that voice for the rest of his life. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, yes. Please.”

Steve snickers. “Okay baby. I can do that for you.” He taps at Bucky’s inner thigh with something. “Spread.”

Bucky does, widening his thighs and exposing himself to the cool air of the room. It makes the arousal that’s already coiling up in his guts grow a little bit more, heat collecting under his skin at the reminder that he’s completely naked and helpless. “Sir,” he breathes, unable to keep quiet. “Daddy, what are you going to—”


Bucky’s breath catches mid-sentence at the swift hit to his inner thigh. He trembles, trying to hold still and figure out what it is that Steve’s just hit him with. “What—”

Another ‘slap!’, making Bucky go silent and adding a matching twinge of pain to his other thigh. “What?” Steve asks, mocking and sweet. “Can’t you tell?” He hits him again; a wasp-quick flick to his lower stomach. He trails up the center of his abs and back down, taps the tip of his cock in an evil threat. “Well?” he asks. “I’m waiting.”

Bucky swallows heavily. “A crop,” he nearly whispers, because he knows that’s what it is. The feeling of the leather tip against his cock is unmistakable and has him trembling in anticipation—good or bad, he’s not sure. Maybe both. “S’a crop.”

Steve hums darkly. “Sure is, baby boy. Good guessing.” He swats him next to one hipbone, then the other; so torturously close to his cock. Bucky feels a string of precome leak from the head and onto his stomach. Steve laughs and touches the wetness with the crop’s soft leather tip. “Looks like you’re enjoying this,” he taunts.

Bucky moans, nodding. “Yessir.”

“You sound like you’re drunk,” Steve snaps, all cruelty and derision. It makes Bucky smile.


That makes Steve laugh—a true laugh, not put-on. Bucky feels triumphant and golden at having elicited it. He squirms in place, tugging on the wrist restraints to better feel them. “More?” he asks.

“Hush.” Steve swats him hard on the inner thigh again. “Stop that. You don’t get to ask for anything here. You get to take what you’re given and say ‘thank you’. Bucky nods, feeling his belly flip. Steve runs the crop up and down his thighs. “Good boy.”

Then he starts up a steady swatting with the crop, just going at Bucky’s legs and sides and stomach with rapid little hits. One or five of them don’t hurt, but after a while they build up and become more painful. Steve taps his chest all around his sore nipples, and a few seconds of that has him gasping and writhing away from the pain. “Ah, ah, ah!” He doesn’t even beg, just cries out and wiggles in agony. Steve pulls the crop away and Bucky has the chance to regain his breath. He swallows and huffs out a quiet, “Shit.”

Steve chuckles. His weight appears on the bed. One hand is at Bucky’s throat, pressing down. The other is down and tapping the crop airily against Bucky’s sac. Bucky inhales shakily, stomach tensing. “My,” Steve says, and his voice is so close. He must have his face right down by Bucky’s, must be looking right at him. “You sure went still fast, just now.”

Bucky shivers, completely overwhelmed by Steve’s dominance. He wishes he could see what this looks like right now—Steve with one hand at his throat and another at his balls, threatening him as he lies naked and bound in his bed. Fuck, this is heaven. “Yeah,” Bucky remembers to say. “M’still.”

“Why?” Steve rubs the crop oh-so-lightly where it rests on his balls. “Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you here?”

Bucky nods, and Steve snickers. It’s the meanest, most mocking sound, and it goes straight to Bucky’s dick. “Are you?” he manages to ask breathily.

“If I feel like it.” Steve taps him a little harder on the balls, just enough to make him wince. “What’re you gonna do to stop me?”

Bucky shakes his head helplessly. “N-nothing.”

“That’s right, nothing,” Steve says, his pleasure at the situation somehow coming through in his voice. “You’re just gonna lay here and take it. You’re just going to feel.”

Bucky moans.

“Look at this,” Steve says, one hand wrapping back around Bucky’s cock. He’s been neglected in the past few minutes but he hasn’t flagged much at all. The cock ring is keeping him hard. Bucky whines as he feels Steve give him a firm squeeze, moving his fist up and down in small, tight increments. He draws up and starts thumbing circles under the head, his fingers wet with precome. “So easy for me,” Steve murmurs, and his voice is softer now, almost sweet. “You’ve got the prettiest cock, you know that Buck?”

Bucky pants, not sure what the right response to that is and too in his head with pleasure to figure it out. He just squirms, which Steve doesn’t seem to mind. “Please,” he says.

“Please?” Steve lets go of his cock and swats it with the crop. It’s light as air but it still hurts because it’s his cock, and Bucky moans. “Please, what?”

“Please…” Bucky swallows and breathes cool air over wet lips, trying to remember what it even is he wants. “Please touch me.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” Steve slaps him across the face again. “I am touching you. I’ve been touching you this whole time.”

Bucky groans, hands forming fists and making the buzzer go off again. He yelps in surprise, opening his hand and cursing. “Fuck! Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

The next thing he knows, Steve is kissing the corner of his mouth and taking the buzzer out of his palm. “S’okay. Not your fault. We don’t need this anymore.” Bucky nods in relief and waits while Steve sets it aside. The next thing he hears is a very obscene, wet ‘squelch’, as Steve presumably squirts a ton of lube into his hand. Then Bucky’s crying out in pleasure as Steve starts up a steady pace of jacking him off. “Oh, f-fuck,” he moans, hips thrusting up into the curl of Steve’s fist. “Oh, oh… yeeah.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, sounding like he’s watching what he’s doing. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Bucky sobs, feeling himself inching closer but unsure if he can come with the cock ring on. “S-steve,” he gasps. “Oh, please. Take it off.”

Steve must know what he’s talking about, because his free hand goes right to the ring of silicone and starts working it off his dick. Regrettably, he has to stop stroking Bucky to do this, but it only takes a few short seconds and then Bucky’s free. He groans and spreads his thighs wider. “Please,” he says again, hoping that Steve won’t make him say any more.

He doesn’t.


Maybe it’s the way that Bucky looks, all sweaty and desperate and trussed-up; or maybe it’s the fact that Steve is rock hard against his own thigh and starting to get impatient for it himself, but either way, he takes pity on Bucky and doesn’t make him beg any more. “Okay honey,” he says, all pretense of meaness gone. He tosses the cock ring aside and grabs the lube and condom to drop them by Bucky’s side. Bucky doesn’t notice. He’s got no idea whether Steve’s going to let him come, or just smack him around some more. Steve smiles fondly down at him as he climbs further up the bed and sits between his legs. He sits cross-legged and pulls on Bucky’s thighs until he drapes them over Steve’s own. “There you go,” Steve mumbles.

Bucky is so goddamn beautiful, it’s downright overwhelming to Steve. It’s been so long since he’s had someone in his bed like this. A handful of vanilla hookups in the past year had seemed like enough, until Bucky. Steve runs his hands up and down the tops of Bucky’s thighs. He’s spread out like an offering, his body stretched long in the sheets, legs spread to accommodate Steve and arms overhead in the cuffs. His lower face is visible now, and as much as Steve had gotten off on knowing that Bucky couldn’t see or hear anything at all, it’s nice to see his pretty face again—his defined jaw and bowed lips; the sweet cleft in his chin. Steve bends forward and blows against Bucky’s dick, making him moan and his hips twitch.

Steve chuckles. “You look so good, you know that?”

Bucky has to lick his lips and swallow before nodding weakly. “Thank you, Sir.”

Aw. Steve loves it when Bucky’s so obviously strung-out and still he remembers to call him Sir. Maybe not even remembers, just does it on instinct. Steve loves that. He licks out against the tip of Bucky’s cock, just barely getting the head with the tip of his tongue. Bucky whimpers and tries hard to keep still, which Steve rewards by holding his hips and digging his fingers into the sides of Bucky’s ass. “Good boy,” he murmurs, before sinking down and taking half of Bucky’s cock into his mouth in one go.

Bucky grunts and curses up above, his whole body tensing. “Fuck! Steve…”

Steve hums around his mouthful. The lube is cherry-flavored, which is the least-offensive Steve’s ever found and makes the job easier. He pulls off and holds Bucky’s dick with one hand, running the other in flat circles over Bucky’s lower stomach, licking at him like he’s some cherry candy. Bucky moans and groans and writhes like Steve’s doing something terrible to him, which amuses Steve to no end. “Don’t you like it, baby?” he teases.

“Yeah,” Bucky pants. “Yeah s’good.”

“But you want more,” Steve says, not letting it be a question. Bucky’s nodding right away and Steve squeezes his hand tight around the base of his cock, wringing it upwards in one, slow stroke. “You want to come?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” More frantic nodding. “Please.”

Steve wants to come too, so he doesn’t fuck around about it anymore. Bucky’s been good, has taken everything Steve wanted to give him so beautifully, and now he deserves a reward. Steve moves around until he’s kneeling and sitting back on his heels, Bucky’s legs draped over his thighs. He keeps one hand on Bucky, slowing stroking him with a loose fist, while he tears the condom packet open with his teeth and rolls it over his own dick. A little more slick, and then a bunch on Bucky’s hole. He shoves it in with a finger, no preamble, then two. Bucky grunts and whines, but Steve just tells him to “take it” in a quiet voice, and Bucky does. “M’gonna fuck you now,” Steve tells him, putting the head of his cock to Bucky’s entrance. “You want that?” The message is clear: Bucky’s not getting any more prep than he’s already gotten. It’s going to hurt.

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate. In fact, he moans. “Yes,” he whispers. “Steve, yes.” Steve hums, holds his dick steady just below the head, and pushes in. It’s slow. He has to really push to get Bucky’s body to open up for him, but he sinks inside all of a sudden, Bucky’s breath hitching at the exact moment of penetration. “Oh!

“Shh.” Steve holds still. He holds Bucky’s hips and rubs his thumbs over his hipbones. “You’re okay. Just relax.”

Bucky swallows, the bump of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He nods weakly. Steve pushes in a little more. “Goood,” he praises, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of Bucky’s body taking him in. “Fuck, honey, you feel so good.” Bucky just whimpers in response and Steve opens his eyes again to look down at him. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s a lot.”



Slowly, Steve moves forward. He lays over Bucky and plants his forearms to either side of him. The change in position makes his cock slide further into Bucky, and Bucky groans at the feeling of it. He’s tight, body not wanting to let Steve in. Steve just pushes harder. Up close like this, he can feel Bucky’s breath, can make out every small detail of his lower face that’s bared. He’s covered from the bridge of his nose up, and Steve bends to peck a kiss to his mouth. “Hey,” he says.

Bucky huffs shakily. “Hey.”

“You want this?” Steve asks. Bucky nods, and Steve makes a noise of disapproval. “Need to hear you say it, baby boy. Tell me. Use your words.” He knows that’s not an easy task to ask of Bucky when he’s this far down, so he waits patiently for Bucky to work it out in his sticky-slow brain.

“…Please,” he says, voice small and needy. “Please, fuck, f-fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Steve draws out extremely slowly, pushes back in just as slow. “You want to come on my cock?”

Bucky whimpers and nods emphatically. “Yeah, yeah yeah.”

“Okay.” Steve starts fucking him, not willing to wait anymore. It’s so tight, the lack of prep making it so that Steve has to force Bucky’s body to open up and accommodate him. Bucky moans like he’s enjoying it and tilts his hips up, wraps his legs around Steve’s waist. It makes arousal burn low in Steve’s gut, how Bucky’s just so willing to take whatever he’s given. “Yeah,” Steve growls, fucking in, not stopping until he’s buried all the way inside of him. “Yeah, sweetheart. Just let me in.” He holds still for Bucky to get used to it, dips down to kiss him.

Bucky takes to it eagerly, making sweet noises and letting his mouth go lax for Steve to kiss him. Steve licks into the heat of him and coaxes Bucky to do the same, sliding their lips together, kissing and kissing and kissing. God, it just makes Steve want. “Gonna fuck you now,” he whispers against Bucky’s wet lips. Bucky nods, and Steve pulls his hips back for a thrust.

He sets a pace that’s slow but firm, pulling out only halfway before thrusting in deep and hard, connecting their bodies solidly. Their skin hits quietly, balls slapping with each thrust. It feels so good, and Steve knows he won’t last long. He reaches down to fist Bucky’s cock in time with it, asking him, “This gonna get you close, baby?”

Bucky nods, lips parted with his soft pants. “Yes.” He’s curling his hips up with every thrust, getting Steve’s cock into him at the angle he wants, working his cock into Steve’s hand. “Yeah, yeah.” Steve growls. He tightens his hand and focuses on the end of Bucky’s cock, jerking him just under his head, fast and wet. Bucky moans and nods his head desperately, making noises that let Steve know he’s close. “Oh, Steve,” he moans, “Steve, Steve. Can I come?”

“Yeah, baby. Go ahead.”

Steve hardly has to do anything more than breathe the permission down at him and give him another firm thrust, and then Bucky’s tensing up, his ass fluttering around Steve madly and his cock pulsing in his hand. “Oh!” he cries out, shooting hotly between their bellies, come bubbling over Steve’s knuckles and making his own dick throb where he’s buried in Bucky’s body.

“Fuuuck,” Steve groans. He releases Bucky’s cock and drops his head down onto his shoulder, grinding his forehead there as he fucks him faster, harder, giving himself the friction he needs to come. When he does, he makes the filthiest moan into Bucky’s skin, drool probably leaving his mouth but not even caring. The orgasm is so good, and he loses himself to it for long seconds, collapsing on top of Bucky when it’s done. “Oh, fuck,” he huffs.

Bucky grunts, trapped beneath him. “Steve,”

“Oh sorry baby.” Steve rolls to the side, sperating them for a moment as he recovers. He’s breathing heavily, body sweaty, pulse snapping through his veins like a rubber band. “Fuck. Jesus.”

“You said it.” Bucky sounds more cognizant, which makes Steve look over.

“You okay?”

Bucky nods. His arms pull weakly against the restraints, but it looks like he’s just feeling them, not trying to get out. “Yeah. Good.”

“Here.” Steve’s tired, but he hefts himself up anyway and shoves everything off the bed, pulls the blankets up to cover Bucky. “You want the hood off?”

Bucky thinks about it, then shakes his head. “Just m’wrists,” he says, a little bit of a slur still in his voice.
“Okay, here.” Steve undoes the leather cuffs, bringing Bucky’s arms down carefully. “Don’t pull. Let me do it,” he orders softly. He rotates Bucky’s wrists, rubbing over the bones. “Sore?”

“Mm mn.”

Steve kisses his temple that’s still covered by the leather. He doesn’t even know if Bucky can feel it, but that isn’t the point. “Okay,” he says quietly, putting Bucky’s arms down by his sides and tucking the blanket around him better.

Bucky makes a face. “Steve,” he whines. “I’m all gross.”

“Shush. You’re fine. This can all go in the laundry. I’ve got blankets for days.”

Bucky hums and doeesn’t say anything else. Steve can’t help but to smile at him fondly. He feels wrung-out, tired in that way that only a really good orgasm can achieve. He turns into Bucky and holds him, kissing his cheek. “You make me feel so good, sweetheart.”

Bucky smiles stupidly. “I do?”

“You do.” Steve turns his head and starts kissing him, keeping it shallow and easy. When he ends it, he tells him, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a sub.”

Bucky hums, fucked-out and pleased. Steve can tell he isn’t all there, or else he’d be reacting to his words more. “You too,” Bucky slurs, and Steve doesn’t go to the effort of pointing out that he’s his Dom. Bucky sighs and pushes his face into Steve’s chest. “Chocolate?” he asks, which makes Steve laugh and hug him.

“Yeah, baby boy. You can have chocolate.” Bucky’s come to expect the aftercare routine, which makes Steve so, so happy. He wants Bucky to demand what he needs. Hearing him ask for it so sweetly at the end of a scene is just icing on the cake. “Here. Lay still. I’ll go get it.”

Bucky grumbles something about not wanting Steve to leave, but he lets him go with a little gentle coaxing.

Chapter Text

Bucky wakes up in Steve’s bed the next morning and has to stretch and try to remember what day it is. A smile splits his face when he remembers the night before, and that it’s Friday and he has all day to spend with Steve. “Mmm,” he hums, immediately followed by a yawn. He’s alone in the bed, but that doesn’t worry him at all. He’s sure Steve is downstairs working out or some other such early-morning nonsense. Bucky gives another good stretch, then looks down his body to where he can feel come crusted on his stomach. “Ugh.”

He’s got morning wood though, which is very tempting. Bucky runs his hand down his stomach, scratching his fingers across the flecks of dried come and further down to his pubic hair. He’s only half-hard, but it’d be so easy to touch and make himself feel good, jerk one out before going downstairs to Steve. Bucky watches his hand, idling his fingers over the crease of his thigh and the very edge of his groin. He’s not supposed to, but…

“I leave you alone for ten minutes and look what I come back to,” Steve drawls from the doorway.

Bucky’s eyes shoot up, his hand dropping from his cock and a sly smile taking over his face. “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all. His eyes flick over Steve, taking in the breakfast tray and his expression, trying to figure out if he’ll get bacon and eggs or a spanking first. “I’m incorrigible,” he says.

“Baby, you sure as hell are.” Steve doesn’t seem mad at all as he comes over and sets the food on the bed.

Bucky turns onto his side to take it in. “Smells so fucking good,” he moans. “Figures you’d have one of these breakfast-in-bed trays.”

“Everyone should have breakfast-in-bed trays.”


“Scoot over.” Steve keeps the tray from tipping as Bucky moves out of the way and they both settle themselves on the bed. “Hope you’re hungry,” he says.

“Mm, yeah. For eggs and your ass,” Bucky says, eyes flicking between the food and Steve’s chest and abs. He’s shirtless, a pair of pajama pants riding low on his hips.

Steve is laughing. “What do you think you’re going to do with my ass?”

Oh, but this is a conversation they haven’t had. Bucky leers at him. “I dunno. What do you want me to do with your ass?” He waggles his eyebrows. “Would you let me touch you there, Stevie? Huh? Would you let me fuck you?”

Steve looks equal parts amused and turned-on by that. He reaches over and pinches Bucky’s nipple, which—ow—is still sore from last night. “First of all, don’t you ever call me ‘Stevie’ again,” he says with a smirk. “And as to the other issue,”

“Me fucking you,” Bucky supplies.

“I’m not averse to it.”

Well. That is a surprise. Somehow, Bucky had expected Steve to be one of those tops who couldn’t handle taking what they so easily dish out. “Is that so?” he asks, very, very intrigued. “How would that work?” With us, is the unspoken part. Steve seems to get it.

“What? You think that just because you’d have your dick in me, that you’d be in control?”

Fuck, but those words get Bucky hot. He shrugs as he feels his dick twitch. “I mean, that’s usually how it goes.”

Steve chuckles lowly, as if Bucky is incredibly stupid and he loves it that way. “You’ve got a lot to learn, baby boy.”

Bucky’s eyes light up, delighted. “Yeah? You gonna teach me?” You gonna let me fuck you?

Steve leans over the tray to give him a kiss. “Come on,” he says. “Breakfast, then shower.” His eyes flick down to Bucky’s stomach. “You’re a mess.”

“Your fault,” Bucky says, stuffing two pieces of bacon straight into his mouth. “Mmf, this’good.”

Steve snorts. “Glad you approve.” He starts picking up pieces of pineapple and melon and eating them. Bucky rolls his eyes. It figures Steve would go for that healthy shit first. “So,” Steve says conversationally. “Last night.”

Bucky’s face splits in a grin, mouth of bacon be damned. “Yeah,” he says dreamily.

“You liked everything?”

Bucky nods vehemently. “Yeah. Fuck, Steve. You’re amazing.”

“You are too, Buck. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. It was so amazing, seeing you like that.”

Bucky grins. “Yeah? You like watching me squirm?”

“I think we’ve already established that.” Steve takes a piece of bacon as well. He chews it thoughtfully and asks, “What about the stuff we talked about earlier in the night?”

“Hm?” Bucky’s a little too busy forking up some cheesy eggs to devote much brain power to figuring it out. “What did we talk about?” Steve’s quiet so long that Bucky looks up, sees him staring. “What?”

“Me giving you money,” Steve says.

Oh. Bucky swallows. “Um. You were serious about that, huh?”

Steve shrugs, and goddamn him for his nonchalance, Bucky thinks. He uses his chewing to give himself a moment to think before he works up the courage to ask, “It’s not an exchange of services, right?”

Steve scowls. “Hell no. You know better Bucky.”

Bucky averts his eyes, abashed. “Yeah. Sorry.” He looks back up. “It’s because you want to take care of me?” Steve nods. “Because what? Because I’m poor? The job doesn’t pay well?”

Steve shrugs, though Bucky can tell it’s feigned nonchalance. “Living in D.C. isn’t cheap. I know how little they pay for entry-level jobs these days. It’s obscene.”

Bucky bites his lip, feeling his cheeks heat. Steve isn’t wrong… “Okay,” he hedges. “Well how much money are we talking about here? I mean you said ‘allowance’. Does that mean you want to give me money every week, every month?”

“Maybe each month. I hadn’t thought about it too much. And as for amount,” Steve pops another piece of fruit into his mouth. “Maybe two grand?”

“Jesus, Steve!”

“Don’t have to yell, Buck. It’d cover your rent, at least.”

At least?” Bucky scoffs. “That and then some.”

“Use the ‘then some’ to treat yourself, pay off student loan debt, whatever you like.”

Steve looks so calm as he tells him this. It’s reassuring and disconcerting at the same time, which makes Bucky feel… things. He winces as he thinks about Steve giving him so much money. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Steve smiles like he’s in love. “Yeah, you’ve said that.”

“Well I mean it.” Bucky twists his lips. “I mean it’s no fun to struggle financially, but I’ve been doing it for years. I can get by on my own.”

Steve does not look happy at that. Frowning, he reaches across the bed and palms Bucky’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly. “Bucky, I know you can take care of yourself. I’ve never doubted that. I believe that you can manage on your own. The thing is though, you don’t have to.” He smiles softly at him. “It would make me feel good to be able to spoil you. But it’s up to you.”

Well, Fuck. Bucky sighs and closes his eyes, pushes his face into Steve’s big hand. “You drive a hard bargain, Mister.”

Steve’s laugh is bright and unguarded. “What bargain? We haven’t even decided the amount yet.”

“Steve! I am not taking more than two grand a month from you!”

Steve draws his hand back and points at Bucky. “First thing’s first: you need to start booking spa appointments twice a month. Remember?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Bucky grunts, but then says, “I forgot about that.”

“I know you did.” Steve leans over and moves the food tray out of the way, lays half on top of Bucky and runs one hand through his hair, the other down his abs and into his pubes. “What’s this, huh?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “M’not letting you shave me. Gotta get over that fantasy, Sir.”

Steve just laughs and leans down to bite his lip. “Brat.”

“Mm, you know it.”

“I’m sending you to a place in Dupont. Real fancy. Private.”

“It better be, if I’m bending over to have my balls waxed.”

Steve laughs loudly at that, gripping Bucky’s sides with his fingers. “You can have whatever you want. Facials, massage, whatever.” He kisses him on the lips again. “I expect you to come back to me real pretty.”

Bucky blushes madly at the way that Steve says that to him, like he’s some doll that Steve wants to play with and enjoy. “Yessir,” he says.

“Good boy.”

“Mm, bet you send all your boys there.”

Steve chuckles and pinches him. “And girls.”


“God, shut up.” Steve sits up and pushes the food back at him. “Eat some more, then shower.”

Bucky doesn’t argue. He sits up and takes some fruit more bacon, because bacon, then says. “What are we doing today?” Steve’s got him for all of today and tomorrow morning, and Bucky’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about the possibilities. He can’t wait to hear about whatever kinky games Steve is going to play with him. “Hm?” he asks.

“Well…” Steve hedges. “I think I can keep you busy around here. There’s a lot that needs done.”

“Like what?” Bucky is enthusiastic.

“Like laundry, dishes, maybe dusting.”

Bucky is not enthusiastic. He lets his head flop back against the pillows. “Steeeve. No! That’s awful!”

Steve, the bastard, just laughs. “Stop whining. I told you I’d have you do chores.”

“But why? You’re rich. Just hire somebody to do it. I’m supposed to be your sex toy. There are way better things you could have me do all afternoon!”

Steve’s eyes get dark, even as he chuckles at Bucky. “Don’t you remember what I told you about discipline?”

Bucky pushes past the small tinge of arousal he feels at hearing that word. “Yeah, but I thought you meant like, flogging me on a St. Andrew’s cross till I cried or something!” he protests. "What the hell is so great about watching me fold your laundry?”

Steve sighs. He gets up from the bed and pulls Bucky up as well, then starts shoving him in the direction of the bathroom. “It’s to teach you how to serve me, baby boy.”

“Not. Sexy.” Bucky huffs as he watches Steve start the shower water. “Can’t I just service your cock, instead?”

“Of course you can. But first you’ll do my laundry.”


Steve pulls him into the shower with him. He’s still laughing at Bucky. “Hey, now listen to me,” he says, voice dipping down to that tone of calm control that he has. He pulls Bucky back against his chest and wraps his arms around his middle from behind. “I know it seems mundane, maybe even pointless to you. But I promise you I will never make you do anything pointless. And I’ll never just use you for slave labor. That’s stupid.”

Bucky grunts. He’d argue more, but he likes the way that Steve is talking to him and holding him right now, and he wants more of it. “Okay,” he says, trying not to sound too petulant. “And what are you going to be doing while I’m working my ass off all afternoon?”

Steve chuckles and Bucky can feel it in his chest. “I’ll be grading papers.”

“Boooring.” Bucky tips his head back against Steve’s shoulder. “Have you really done this with all your subs?”

“Some,” Steve says. “The ones who’re like you, at least.”

“Like me?”

Steve nips his shoulder and gives him a squeeze. “Brats who need to learn their place.”

Bucky squawks, even as his belly swirls in want at being told he needs to ‘learn his place’. “Yeah?” he asks, voice lower. “You’re gonna show me my place?”

“Mhm.” Steve’s one hand slips around him, down his belly and over his cock. He palms him there, touching softly to get him going. “Gonna make you feel good, first,” he says, the words muffled against the skin of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky groans quietly. “Yeah, oh.” His cock is stirring, blood going south at the feeling of Steve’s fingers exploring him, gentling over his cock and petting it. Steve takes it in his hand and plays around with it, jerking lightly the harder it gets.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, obviously watching what he’s doing over his shoulder. “So easy for me, baby.”

Bucky swallows heavily. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah I am.”

“Mm.” Steve keeps working him until he’s hard, then he starts jacking him off for real; tight, focused strokes of his hand. Bucky whimpers and tries not to thrust into it, even though he can’t seem to keep his hips from constant little pulses. Steve doesn’t reprimand him. “There you go,” he says over his shoulder, voice gentle. “So pretty Buck. Love your cock. Love that I don’t even need lube to do this.” He squeezes, moving the foreskin up and down. “Does that feel good?”

Bucky pants. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Sweetheart.”

Steve barks out a laugh, hand seizing and forehead falling to his shoulder. Bucky grins where Steve can’t see, proud. “I’m not even gonna reprimand you for that one, baby boy.” There’s a smile in Steve’s voice (but an erection against Bucky’s ass). “Touché.”


Steve laughs darkly, finger still rubbing at his asshole. “This, however, needs some slick. Doesn’t it?”

Bucky whines sadly. “Yeah.”

“Shh. Don’t think I’m unprepared.” Steve kisses the shell of his ear. “On the bench. Blue bottle on the left.”

Bucky looks ahead of himself and sees the bottle of lube. He smiles widely. “You were a boy scout, weren’t you?”

Steve laughs and pats his butt to get him moving forward to grab the lube. “Eagle scout baby. I went all the way.”

“You’re about to go all the way with me, Captai—”

Steve yanks him back, hard. “Shut. Up.” Bucky melts. “Hand me the lube.” Bucky hands it back, no protest. Steve is moving behind him, clicking the bottle open and slicking his fingers. When he brings them down to Bucky’s ass, it’s slippery and cool. He starts circling Bucky’s rim.

“Oh, Steve.”

“Mmhm.” Steve puts the bottle into Bucky’s left hand. “Hold that. Don’t drop it.” Fuck. “Touch yourself. Lightly. Just keep yourself hard, don’t get greedy.”

Bucky huffs and nods, reaching to touch himself. “Okay.” When he feels Steve press harder, still just teasing his rim, he begs, “Please.”

Steve kisses his neck as he eases the tip of his finger in. “‘Please, Daddy.’”

Fuck. “Yeah. Yeah, Daddy.”

Steve kisses him again. “Good boy.” The finger slips deeper.

Bucky moans, most of the sound covered up by the shower water. He strokes himself, trying hard to remember to keep it light like Steve said. “Are you gonna fuck me, Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby boy. I am.” Steve thrusts his finger lightly. “You want that?”

Bucky’s nodding his head right away. “Yeah. Please.”

“Mm. Gotta get you worked open for me first, don’t I?”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “Wanna be open for you.”

Steve groans, and his big body feels so good behind Bucky’s own. “You will be, honey. Don’t worry. I’m gonna get you all wet and soft.” When Bucky whimpers, Steve puts his lips to his ear and says, “Gonna get this pussy to open up real nice for me.”

Fuck, Steve.”

Steve hums, pleased, and thrusts his finger faster. His cock is hard against Bucky’s ass—he’s rubbing it against him. The knowledge that this is getting Steve off—that Bucky’s getting him off, is so arousing. Bucky pushes back against Steve’s finger. “More,” he says. “Please.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just adds another finger. Bucky exhales harder at the stretch, widening his legs by inches and focusing on relaxing for it. “That’s it,” Steve is saying lightly, praising as he works him gently. “Gonna make you feel so good, Buck.”

“You always make me feel good.”

Steve moans, and it’s the sweetest, most tender sound. It makes Bucky want to turn right around and stick his tongue in his mouth, makes him want to sink to his knees and swallow his cock in one go. “Love this,” Bucky murmurs. “Love the way you make me feel. Love it when you take care of me.”

Steve groans. He keeps pumping his fingers and presses his face to Bucky’s neck. “Thank you for letting me.”

When Bucky relaxes enough, Steve pulls his fingers out and holds his palm in front of Bucky for more lube. “Give me some.”

Bucky doesn’t know what about that is so hot, but it is. He flips the bottle open and squeezes a bunch into Steve’s hand. The amount just makes Steve chuckle as he draws his hand back around. “You want to be sloppy for me?”

Fuck. Bucky nods fast. “Yeah Daddy.”

When the fingers push back in, he can tell it’s three. He grunts, his hand stilling on himself and instead just squeezing his cock as he focuses on taking Steve’s fingers.

“This okay?” Steve asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Bucky nods shakily. “Yeah. S’good.”

“Mm.” Steve keeps going, working his fingers gently, patiently; waiting for Bucky’s body to open up at its own pace. “There you go,” he murmurs when the muscle softens and he’s able to push in further. He curls his fingers inside of him, dragging them against his inner wall. “You open up so beautifully for me, Sweetheart.”

Bucky moans. He’s dying. Steve’s holding him back against his body and saying these thing in his ear and working him open with his fingers and Bucky is just dying. “S-steve,” he slurs, eyes closed as he focuses on the pleasure. “Please. Oh, please.”

Steve curls his fingers and presses, making Bucky cry out. “Please what, honey?”

“Oh, f-fuck.” Bucky licks his lips and swallows past the dryness in his mouth. “Please, fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s voice is darker. He thrusts his hand harder, just once, against Bucky’s ass. “That what you want? Want to feel me up inside you?”

Bucky nods, pushing his hips back against Steve’s fingers. “Yeah, yeah. Please Daddy. Want your cock. Want to feel it inside me.”

Steve makes a noise that tells him just how much he likes that idea. “Good boy. Grab the condom over there.”

Bucky’s eyes open, tracking disoriented over to the bench, where he sees the condom packet. He groans. “Fuck.” It’s necessary, he knows, so he doesn’t argue about it. He grabs it and hands it back to Steve, whimpering when the fingers slip from his ass. “Wish you could just fuck me bare,” he says, as he listens to the sounds of Steve putting the condom on. “Come inside me, feel it dripping out.”

For one second, Steve is completely silent and still. And then he’s loosing the filthiest groan he’s made yet. He holds his hand out again, growling, “Give me more.” Bucky squirts more lube into his palm and listens and feels as Steve slicks himself up. He stuffs two fingers back into Bucky’s ass, giving a few good pumps at just the right angle as he puts more lube inside of him. The next thing Bucky knows, Steve’s blunt cockhead is against his hole, pressing so hard but not penetrating him. “Ask me for it,” Steve says, voice calm and quiet and so, so possessive. He kisses Bucky’s ear, his jaw, curling his free hand over Bucky’s oblique muscle. “Ask me to put it in.”

Bucky moans and does, saying, “Please put your cock in me, Daddy.”

Steve pushes in. His breath is a hot rush against Bucky’s neck, and Bucky groans long and low. He drops the lube by accident, his fingers of that hand gripping over Steve’s on his hip, holding tight to him as Steve pulls their bodies together, sliding deep inside. “Fuuck,” Bucky whispers. “Oh, oh.”

“Shh,” Steve says. “I know, I know. I’ve got you.” Bucky nods, fast and tiny and his eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, but Steve feels big, fills him up so good. It’s overwhelming. Steve holds them together once he’s all the way in, sealing Bucky’s body tight to his. He kisses Bucky’s jaw, says, “C’mere,” and sticks his tongue into his mouth possessively as soon as Bucky turns his head. Then he starts to move, drawing only halfway out of Bucky’s body before he’s pushing back in. He starts fucking him like that, making Bucky’s insides light up in pleasure. He kisses him just like he’s fucking him; slowly and deeply, purposeful. It makes Bucky’s toes curl and his hand squeeze his cock tighter without thinking about it.

When Steve pulls back from the kiss, he starts fucking him harder, enough that their balls knock together with each thrust. The feeling makes Bucky whimper and nod and beg for more. “Yeah, yeah. Gimme it.”

Steve’s holding his hip with his left hand, reaches around with his right and wraps it over Bucky’s hand on his cock. “Come on,” he says, moving their hands together. “Get yourself off.”

Bucky groans and listens, fingers tightening and moving faster, working himself the way he’s been aching to this whole time. Oh, it’s so good. Steve’s hand lingers over his own for a few minutes, then pulls away so he can hold Bucky by the hips and really start giving it to him. The wet slap of their skin is the hottest sound, that is until Steve starts losing his composure and fucking grunting into Bucky’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he pants, fingers curling harshly over Bucky’s hips. “Fuck baby, your ass feels so fucking good. Gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” Bucky pants, trying to goad him on but just a little too breathless for it to be convincing. “Do it,” he says. “Do it, come in me.”

Steve growls and pushes him, hand between his shoulder blades forcing Bucky to bend forward and catch himself on the shower bench. He moans at the forcefulness, fingers curling over the tile. “Oh, fuck.” Steve can fuck him harder like this, and he does. He slides his hand into his hair and makes a fist in it, pulling back just enough to make Bucky gasp at the sting.

“You can take it,” he says, breath heavy and harsh—he’s getting close. “Reach back down. Don’t stop touching yourself.”

Bucky pants from the exertion but he listens, propping himself up with only one arm as Steve pounds into him, reaching down and jacking himself off fast and hard. It makes the arousal in his gut tighten and grow, the hard slap of their bodies only driving him further. “Oh,” he breathes, fighting to stay up, to fuck back against Steve’s cock. “Steve, fuck. Fuck I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah.” Steve’s fist tightens in his hair. “Fucking do it, boy. Come for me. Come on your daddy’s cock.”

God. That gravel-rough voice, those filthy words. It only takes a few more hard fucks of Steve’s hips before Bucky clenches up and comes, shooting over his fist and the shower bench below. He sees his come hit the shampoo bottle and squeezes his eyes shut at how fucking good it feels. Steve keeps pounding him, the feeling and the sounds of his desperate grunts only making Bucky’s orgasm seem to last longer.

When Steve comes, it’s with the deepest, most-animalistic growl Bucky’s ever heard come out of him, and Bucky thinks fuck, he just needs this MAN to fuck him for the rest of his fucking life.

When Steve eventually calms enough to pull out, he tosses the condom to the shower floor and drapes himself against Bucky’s back, his flagging dick between his ass cheeks. “You,” he pants, “need to get tested. Now. Next time we do this I want to see my come dripping right out of your ass.” Bucky moans, and Steve chuckles and, because he’s a shit sex god, whispers in his ear, “I’ll make you push it out just so I can stuff it back in with my tongue.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Chapter Text

Steve’s washer and dryer machine is a fancy, digital robot. Bucky stands in front of it and stares, trying to figure out all the settings. He should be able to do this. He’s college-educated, after all.

“Okay,” he says, raising his voice because Steve is in the next room. “What am I doing here?” He’s got Steve’s clothes sorted into piles, which is not at all what Bucky would do if he were at home. Sorting, blech. He feels ridiculous even handling Steve’s clothes. They’re all so nice—dress shirts and pants and dorky cardigans. Bucky’s surprised it all doesn’t just get sent out to dry cleaning. “Steve?” he calls out.

“Do a load of darks. Gentle wash,” Steve replies in an almost bored voice.

Bucky wrinkles his nose, pushing the button and seeing the timer pop-up with a digital red 40 mins. “Oh, hell no,” he mutters. He pushes the button for “Speed wash,” instead, satisfied when the display reads 10 mins. He pushes Start. “Doing speed wash!” he calls out.

“Don’t you dare.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and does it anyway. He’s not going to spend all freaking day doing laundry, no matter what Steve says. “I feel like I should warn you that I have little to no laundry skills!” He calls out to Steve. “I’m gonna ruin your expensive clothes.”

“No, you’re not,” Steve calls back coolly. “Because you’re going to do them like I showed you.”

Bucky grumbles and walks back into the living room. Steve is sitting on the couch with his laptop, presumably grading papers. He’s wearing sweatpants and an indecently-tight black teeshirt. Bucky smirks when Steve looks up. “Hello, Sir,” he purrs. “You look good.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “So do you. Get on your knees.”

Yes. Bucky sinks right to his knees on the carpet, no questions asked. He’d had a feeling they were going to play all over again, once they came out here. He’s naked, so he’s feeling pretty submissive already. Also, there’s the fact that Steve wrapped a collar around his throat and worked a fat plug into him after their shower. “I want you open and ready,” he’d said, before telling Bucky to get his naked butt downstairs for some housework.

Bucky has to admit that Steve has some very unique ways of making chores more interesting. “Sir?” he asks, still kneeling in place.

“Crawl over here.”

Bucky’s guts do that swoopy-embarrassed thing that he loves so much. He starts crawling to Steve, being sure to roll his shoulders and slope his back in a way that he’s pretty sure looks sexy not totally stupid. Steve seems to like it, if the darkening look in his eyes is anything to go by. When he arrives at where Steve is sitting, Bucky lowers his front and pushes his cheek to the top of Steve’s bare foot.

“Well look at you, being so good,” Steve drawls. “It’s like you know your place or something.” His voice is perfectly cool and detached. It makes Bucky think that he’s about to be treated entirely differently than he had been in the shower. And he is SO down for that. “Sit up,” Steve says, sharp. “Sit back on your heels.”

Bucky does, feeling a flush starting up in his face. “Sir?” he asks.

“Shh. I didn’t tell you to talk.” Bucky shuts up. Between his legs, his cock is stirring, and Steve notices. “Well,” he says, “You really have no self-control, do you?”

Bucky’s lips part to answer, but Steve shakes his head the slightest bit, and Bucky seals his lips.

“That’s okay,” Steve says magnanimously. “We both know the answer to that, don’t we?” Bucky nods silently, eager despite the way his cheeks are burning. Steve chuckles. “Yeah, you’re kind of dumb that way. Can’t think past your dick.” He lifts his foot and presses it against Bucky’s cock. “Is it getting harder?” he asks, mocking. “Just from this? Hm?” Bucky shakes his head, but it’s obviously not true. His cock is stiffening underneath Steve’s foot. When Steve draws away he gives a mock gasp. “Aw, baby. You’re such a liar. Look at that. Your prick’s fat already. Just from my foot.”

Bucky shivers, but manages to nod. Because the both of them can see that it’s true.

Steve parts his legs a little wider on the couch cushion and sets his laptop to the side. “C’mere. Shuffle closer. On your knees, that’s it.” He waits until Bucky is kneeling right between his legs, then says. “Do you want to come?”

Bucky nods. Is that even a question? He forces himself not to say it out loud. “Yes, Sir.”

“You always do,” Steve simpers. “I bet you’d do just about anything to get off, huh?” He stares at Bucky until he gets a shy nod of agreement. “Hm, yeah. I mean let’s be honest; you already do some pretty ridiculous stuff to make yourself feel good, don’t you?”

Again, Bucky nods.

“You hump your pillow, stuff things up your ass, let me stuff things up your ass, and up your cock. God, baby. Is there anything you won’t do?”

Bucky is salivating. This is excruciating. It’s wonderful. “I don’t…” he licks his lips. “I don’t know, Sir.”

“Course you don’t,” Steve says. “But since you’re already down here between my legs, why don’t we find out just how desperate you are?” Bucky blushes and Steve laughs softly. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed. I like it. I’ll tell you what: we can play a game. You want that?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. He nods, even though he can tell from Steve’s tone of voice alone that whatever game it is, he’s going to lose. It’s going to be fixed in Steve’s favor. “Please,” he says, not caring.

“Okay.” Steve shifts his one leg forward purposefully, notching his shin between Bucky’s legs. “If you really want to come, then you’ll do what any other desperate animal does.”

Oh. Bucky’s mouth goes dry even as his cock throbs with a new rush of blood. Steve wants… Steve wants him to… His eyes flick up to Steve’s. Steve looks darkly amused. Bucky feels devastated.

“If you can make yourself come from rubbing up against me, then you get to go without the cock cage until tomorrow afternoon,” Steve says. “But you can only use my leg, and you only have until that load is ready to go into the dryer. If you can’t come before then, I put the cage on and you don’t get to touch your cock again till next Tuesday.” He watches Bucky absorb the horror of that, then prompts him, “Well? Get to it.”

Bucky gulps. Fuck. He’s not sure he can do it. He shuffles closer, close enough to rub his dick against Steve’s leg. It’s a humiliating position, making him feel low, like an animal. But he supposes that’s the point. He glances up at Steve, cheeks burning. “Can I…”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Go ahead. Ask your question.”

“Can I touch you? Can I hold onto you?”

Steve’s lips curl up in a smirk that is very clearly at Bucky’s expense. “Sure, puppy. Go on.”

Fuck, so they’re back to this. Bucky’s never had that kink, but damn if the way Steve does it doesn’t get him going. Between his legs, his cock gives another jerk. “Kay,” he says, voice small. He bends over Steve’s lap, holding onto his hips and pressing his face against the fabric of his sweatpants, hiding himself against the swell of his thigh so that he doesn’t have to look at him as he does this. Slowly, mortifyingly, he starts moving his hips against Steve’s shin.

Steve chuckles darkly and threads his fingers through his hair, holding his head in an almost gentle way. “There you go,” he drawls. “Good boy.”

Bucky whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut, ashamed and aroused at what he’s doing, at what he’s being made to do. “Sir,” he whispers, desperately needing reassurance from Steve. “Please, tell me I’m good. I need it.” He needs sweet words to get him through this. No matter how much he enjoys Steve humiliating him, he needs his approval, too.

Steve softens, pushing his leg against Bucky’s crotch and telling him, “Of course you’re good, honey. You’re the best boy I could ever hope for. Look at you: look how good you’re being, humping your Sir’s leg just like you’ve been told.” He pets through Bucky’s hair over and over, encouraging him to keep his face pressed against his thigh as he works to get himself off. “Does it feel good?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” Bucky whines, humiliated at having to admit it. “Yeah. Yeah Sir, it does.” Not enough though. His cock is hard from rubbing against Steve; the soft fabric of the sweatpants over the firmness of his shin providing the right amount of friction. But it’s not enough. The angle isn’t right, isn’t enough stimulation. Bucky’s rubbing himself off in vain, and they both know it. “I need more,” he nearly whispers, unable to meet Steve’s eye as he says it. “Sir, please...”

“What’s that? Speak up, Buck.” Steve pulls his face away from his thigh, forces his chin up. “What else do you need? I’m already being pretty nice, don’t you think? Letting you hump my leg like this.” He waits, and when Bucky isn’t able to bring himself to say anything he urges, “Say, ‘thank you for letting me hump your leg, Steve.’”

God, Bucky’s heart is thumping so hard in his chest. He feels about ready to crawl out of his body with shame. “Thank you for letting me hump your leg, Steve,” he says, voice so, so quiet.

Steve smiles down at him kindly, looking proud, like Bucky’s some sort of pet that’s performed a trick on command. “You’re welcome, Sweetheart,” he says, running his hand through Bucky’s hair. “You want more?” Bucky nods emphatically. Steve hums. “Well I did say you had to come just from rubbing off on me…” When Bucky whimpers at that, Steve laughs. “But I guess I can be generous, since you’ve only got a few more minutes, probably.” He smirks. “How long does the speed wash take, after all?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “I—”

“Shh,” Steve shakes his head, one finger sliding over Bucky’s mouth. “Shut up. I know you disobeyed me. I told you to do it one way, and you did it your way instead. Didn’t you?”


“No you’re not. You just want to come.” Steve glances in the direction of the laundry room. “If you’d listened to me, you’d have a lot more time to work yourself up, but looks like the spin cycle’s on already. So you’ve got five minutes or less to come.” When Bucky makes another pleading noise, Steve rolls his eyes and sighs like Bucky’s the biggest imposition that’s ever happened to him. “Fine, get up here.” He pats his lap. “Now.”

Bucky hurries to obey, climbing up onto Steve’s lap and straddling him. Once he’s there, he immediately reaches for the fly to Steve’s pants.


Bucky snatches his hand back like it’s been burnt. “What?”

Steve grabs the hair at the back of his head and yanks it roughly. “Did I say you could touch me?”

Bucky is wincing from the grip, but he still shakes his head the little bit that he can. “No.”

“No what?”

“No, Sir.”

Steve’s lips twitch, and Bucky see the heat in them, can see how much Steve is enjoying this. It makes Bucky feel useful, makes him feel proud. It makes his cock throb. Steve puts his lips to the collar that’s against Bucky’s throat and speaks against the leather as he says, “You can use my thigh; grind back on that plug that’s in your ass. You can rub your cock off against my crotch or my stomach, if you think that’s going to get you anywhere.” When Bucky just groans, Steve laughs and teases, “Aw, you’re not even going to try?”

Bucky firms his jaw and his resolve, even as he can feel tears pressing at the backs of his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll try.”

“Thank me for it first,” Steve snaps, and Bucky does.

“Thank you, Steve. Thank you for letting me try.”

“You’re welcome, puppy. Go ahead.” He sits and waits expectantly, looking amused.

Bucky’s cheeks burn. He shifts on Steve’s lap to get himself closer, then leans into him, setting his chin over Steve’s shoulder and hugging round his middle. Steve holds him in his arms and against his body as Bucky starts to roll his hips, one of his large hands coming up to cup the back of Bucky’s head. “There you go,” he purrs. “Just make yourself feel good.”

Bucky whines. “I can’t. I can’t come like this.”

“Are you sure?” Steve goads. “Dry humping me like a horny little boy isn’t going to get you there?”

Bucky pants, overwhelmed and whining, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Come on, honey. You might come. You never know.”

Bucky does know. It feels so good to rub his bare cock against the soft fabric of Steve’s teeshirt and his firm abs behind. He can roll his ass against Steve’s thigh to make the plug tug and push at his rim, can work his hips as much as he wants, but it’s not going to be enough. The reality of it makes him want to sob. “Please, please,” he begs, panting from the exertion as he works harder and harder and doesn’t get much closer. “Steve, Sir, please help me.”

“I am helping you, baby boy,” Steve says firmly. “If you can’t get off then it’s your own fault.” He pauses to listen for the laundry machine, then says, “One minute left.”

Bucky feels frantic. He works his hips harder, humping Steve just like the desperate dog that he says he is. He doesn’t even care. The shame feels good now, and his cock is hard but it’s not that hard and he’s finally crying because he knows he’s not going to make it. He’s not going to come in time to—”


Steve grabs Bucky by the back of his neck and pulls him away, meeting his eyes. “You lose.”

Bucky sobs. “No! Steve.”

“Shh.” Steve looks down Bucky’s body, to his red, bobbing cock. “Poor thing,” he murmurs. “You were feeling so good, huh?”

Bucky sniffles and nods, feeling pathetic. “Yeah.”

“Hm. Well I tried to help you, but maybe you just didn’t want it enough.” When Bucky just shakes his head and cries, Steve shushes him and jostles his legs. “Hush. Here, I’ll help you calm down.”

Before Bucky can even think about what that means, Steve is flicking his cockhead sharply. He cries out, flinching away in pain. “Ah!”

Steve flicks it again, then slaps it, just once, then catches Bucky’s wrists when he jerks and tries to shield himself. He holds Bucky’s wrists down by his sides. “Shh, you’re okay,” he says. “Don’t fight it, now. Just calm down. It’s all over.”

Bucky takes one, trembling breath, then lets it out in a whoosh. His breath hitches and he starts to cry. When he pitches forward, Steve seems to get that he’s not seeking sexual relief, and so he lets go of his wrists and holds him securely against his chest. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes, this time for real and not mocking. He pets up and down Bucky’s back. “You’re my good boy, Bucky. You’re so good. Look at what you did. Look how you let me play with you. That’s so, so good.”

Bucky shivers, tears still sliding down his cheeks but the distress abating. He sniffles and rubs his face against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m good?”

“The best, Bucky.”

Something about hearing Steve say his name in that relaxed, kind tone of voice helps Bucky to calm down. The game is over. Bucky lost, but he was supposed to. That’s what Steve wanted, and that makes Bucky feel like he’s done a good job. Mournfully, he says, “My cock hurts.”

Steve laughs. “I’ll bet it does. Do you feel like you should have used a color when I hurt it?”

Bucky thinks about that but shakes his head. “Mm mn.” He still feels vulnerable, so he doesn’t pull back to look at Steve. He clings to him, enjoying the way that Steve holds him and allows him the closeness. “I hated it, but not cause it hurt so bad.”

“Because you knew you weren’t going to get to come.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

Steve kisses the side of his head. “You know, I wouldn’t have let you come, even if you’d done the laundry right.”

“I know.” Somehow, that makes Bucky feel absolutely safe.


They spend the afternoon together in peace, after that. Steve makes them lunch around noon and they eat it on the couch together. Bucky finishes the laundry and is allowed to sit at Steve’s feet and watch tv while Steve finishes up his work. It’s nice, domestic. Bucky wouldn’t mind spending every weekend this way.

It’s nearing evening time when Bucky gets what’s coming to him. He’s just finished hanging up Steve’s clothes in his annoyingly meticulous sexy-as-fuck closet, when Steve calls him into the bedroom. Bucky’s eyes widen as soon as he sees what Steve’s holding. “Oh,” he murmurs.

Steve smiles softly at him. “Come here.”

Bucky does. He’s still naked save for the collar and the plug, so when he goes to stand in front of Steve, he feels pleasantly exposed. He eyes the cock cage Steve is holding. “It won’t hurt, will it?” He’s pretty sure it won’t, but…

“Of course not. Spread your legs a little. There, yeah, like that.” Steve kneels down and he’s right in front of Bucky, his face at the level of his junk. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s not about to get a blow job or anything like that, but Bucky feels utterly exposed. He squirms, embarrassed. “Hold still,” Steve orders. Bucky does. “It’ll be frustrating as hell,” he says, “Especially if you’re feeling good and your body’s trying to get an erection. But it won’t hurt.”
Bucky shivers and nods. “Okay.” The thing is, he desperately wants this. The cock cage in Steve’s hand is so small-looking. It’s going to keep Bucky all soft and small, going to keep him restricted and unable to touch himself, unable to use his body the way he wants. Steve will have all the control over that. Only Steve will be able to use his body and decide when he gets to feel good.

Fuck, it’s the sexiest, most humiliating scenario Bucky can imagine. He feels his cock twitch.

“Baby,” Steve chuckles. “Calm down.”

Bucky glances down and sees how he’s chubbed up from thinking about what’s about to happen. He flushes. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s okay. It’s hot that you want this.” Steve leans in and kisses his thigh. “But I gotta get you in here, so.” He takes Bucky’s balls in hand and tugs on them, squeezing just enough to be uncomfortable. Bucky grunts and tries hard to hold still. Then Steve gives his dick a few light, unpleasant pats, and he goes soft. “There you go,” Steve says, as if Bucky’s been well-behaved for him. “Let’s get this on before your dirty mind can get you worked up again, yeah?”

Bucky smirks. “Okay.” He watches with interest as Steve handles the pieces of the cock cage, putting the ring around the base of his cock and balls and then slipping the tube over his cock and connecting it. He finishes by closing a little lock on the top—the tiniest padlock Bucky has ever seen. Steve pulls his hands back and Bucky stares down at it. Fuck, but it looks... “That easy, huh?” he breathes.

“Yep.” Steve runs his hands up and down Bucky’s thighs. “Looks real good on you, babe. How’s it feel?”

“Weird.” Bucky shifts around, feeling how his dick sits in the plastic, cradled almost. It feels… nice, actually. It’s more the sight of it than anything else that makes it so humiliating. “I don’t mind it.” He says. “How long do I have to wear it till?”

Steve stands up. “Hmm, well…” He pulls Bucky close by the hips and kisses him. Bucky gets really into it, enjoying Steve’s mouth and the feeling of the cage rubbing up against Steve’s body. Steve has to grip the back of the collar to pull him away. “Till next Tuesday, I think is what I said.”

Bucky whinesloudly at that. “What?! Steeeve, no!”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“I don’t get to come until next Tuesday?!” Bucky wriggles in Steve’s hold. “That’s impossible! I’ll explode!”

Steve’s fingers curl under the leather at the back of Bucky’s neck, pulling the collar tight enough to restrict his air. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t get to come,” he says. “But you keep talking to me like that and you won’t.”

Bucky immediately calms down. “Oh. Okay.” He flexes his neck against the collar, enjoying the tightness.

“You’re such a slut,” Steve murmurs affectionately. He releases Bucky and steps away. “Come on. Time to get dressed. I’m taking you out.”

Steve’s already turning for the closet, so Bucky’s left to scramble after him. “What? Out? Like on a date?”

“Yep.” Steve comes over with clothes on hangers—a blazer and tee shirt and dress pants. They look like they’ll fit Bucky, but he’s not sure.

“How’d you get my size?” he asks.
“I pay attention.”

Bucky puffs air between his teeth. Trust Steve to give an answer like that. “Creepy,” he mutters.

“Get dressed,” Steve repeats, handing the hangers over.

Bucky takes them, though he’s more focused on Steve right now. “But I thought…” At Steve’s amused expression, he says, “I thought we were like, secret? I thought you didn’t want people to know? Isn’t it… isn’t it dangerous for people to know?”

“Don’t worry Buck, nobody’s going to find out. It’s a big city and we’re just going to dinner.”

Oh. Well okay. Bucky relaxes and nods. “Okay.” He smiles at the thought that Steve wants to take him out on a date. “I’d like that.”

“I know you would. Get dressed.”

Bucky looks down at the clothes. He notices an item that he hadn’t before. “Oh.” His cheeks heat, belly flipping in arousal. “You want me to wear these?”

“Just as dumb as ever,” Steve says fondly. “Yes, I want you to wear them. I think your caged little cock will look nice under them, don’t you?”

Bucky nods, inordinately pleased. “Yeah.” He sets the clothes on the bed and picks up the pair of panties. They’re strawberry-pink, with bits of cream lace and even a tiny bow in the center. They are way more girly than the ones Bucky has at home. Just holding them in his hand is making Bucky heat up. “They’re nice,” he breathes, voice coming out quieter than intended.

“Thought you might like them,” Steve says, coming around to stand behind Bucky. He holds him at the hips and kisses his shoulder. “Only the best for my pretty girl.”

Oh shit.

Bucky swallows nervously. They’ve never taken it this far, but his dick is on board for it. …Or at least it would be, if there was any wiggle room for that. “M’not a girl,” he murmurs, just to make Steve say it again.



Steve hums darkly, fingers tightening on Bucky’s hips and pulling him back so that he can feel his erection through his sweatpants. “Well I don’t know, Sweetheart. You sure do seem like one from where I’m standing.” He reaches around and cups Bucky’s caged cock in his palm. “Look at this pretty mound.”


“You probably want me to rub on your clit, huh?” Steve digs his thumb in at the very tip of the cage, where there’s a slot big enough to let his finger touch Bucky’s cockhead. “Right here?”

Bucky whimpers and nods. “Fuck, Steve. Are you fucking for real?”

“Shh.” Steve’s hand leaves his cock and comes up to cover his mouth firmly. Bucky makes a noise just to hear how his voice is muffled. “Good girls don’t have filthy mouths like that,” Steve warns. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you baby?”

Bucky groans and nods, pushing his ass back against Steve. Steve’s grunt of pleasure is more than satisfying. Bucky smirks behind Steve’s hand. “Mm.”

“Slut,” Steve murmurs, kissing Bucky’s ear and pulling away. “We’ll have to work on that.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve nods at the panties. “Slip ‘em on. I want to see.”

Pulling the underwear up is easy. It’s turning to face Steve and lifting his eyes that’s hard. “Do you like it?” he asks, voice small.

“Don’t I always tell you not to ask stupid questions, honey?” Steve says. He’s looking at Bucky like he’d like to downright eat him up, which is nice and makes Bucky feel much more secure. “You look so good,” Steve murmurs. “I should get you a collection, huh? Make you wear ‘em every day.”


“Maybe I’ll take you out shopping. Walk you around the ladies’ section of department stores and tell you what to try on.” Steve is watching Bucky keenly as he says this, well-aware of his mortification, the sadistic bastard. “Would you like that?”

Bucky shakes his head no. “Maybe.” Steve laughs. Bucky reaches down to palm himself, to feel how small his cock feels in the cage and how snug everything is beneath the delicate fabric of the underwear. “Thank you,” he says, glancing up to Steve to see if that’s the right thing to say.

It is, if the expression on Steve’s face is anything to go by. He circles Bucky like a shark, ending up behind him again and running his fingers lightly over his ass. “You’re wearing these out to dinner, under your clothes,” he tells him, which is of course no surprise. But then Steve pushes against the fabric and touches the base of the plug that Bucky’s still got in. “This too.”

Bucky’s stomach clenches. “Oh,” he says.

Steve chuckles. “That a problem?”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. Hell, he likes the idea, only… “You’re not going to make me wear the collar though, right?”

Steve stills. After a beat he pulls Bucky gently back against him, so that when he speaks it’s in Bucky’s ear. “What if I did?”

Bucky shivers, imagining it—Steve, guiding him into some fancy restaurant. All the servers and other diners looking at him, staring. He whimpers. “People would know.”

“Yeah, I guess they would,” Steve says. He reaches around and cups Bucky’s neck from the front, holding him over the collar. “Even vanilla people would know what this collar was. They’d know you’re a kinky fuck, that you belong to me.” He licks the shell of Bucky’s ear, “That you let me do the filthiest things to you, when we’re alone.”


Steve’s other hand slips around to cover the front of the panties, gripping Bucky’s cock and balls with no effort. “I could say anything I like, too. I could just order what we’re having, then tell the server plain as day that I’ve got you plugged up and caged up, and see what he says.”

Bucky exhales shakily. “Yellow.”

Steve stills. His hand slides from Bucky’s cock to his hip. He keeps the other loose at his neck. “Too much?” he asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “I just… it wasn’t heading in a direction I liked. Yeah. Maybe too much. It’s not my fantasy.”

“Okay, baby. Okay. No more of that, then. Thank you for telling me.”

Steve sounds so proud of him, and that makes Bucky feel proud. “You’re welcome.”

“Here, let me take it out.” Steve’s fingers are already edging down the panties, but Bucky stops him with a squawk and a quick grab. “No! Not that. I like that.”

“…Okay.” Steve turns Bucky around in his hands so that he can look at him. “What parts work for you?”

“Um, the wearing stuff under my clothes,” Bucky says, feeling bashful as he admits, “I like you knowing, but nobody else knowing. Nothing other people can see. I don’t want other people to know. You could… you can talk dirty to me about it though, when we’re out. You can tease me.”

Steve smiles encouragingly. “Okay baby boy. That’s perfect. You’re so perfect for telling me that. I always want you to tell me the particulars, okay?”

Bucky nods and averts his eyes. Talking is hard, but Steve has promised he can always help him with it. “Kay,” he murmurs.

“C’mere.” Steve pulls him in and forces his head up for a kiss, and oh is it a kiss. He kisses him like a lover, like a man who’s staking a claim. It’s gentle, but it’s a claim. When he pulls back he tells Bucky, “You’re going to have a good time tonight.” Bucky smiles and Steve nudges him toward the clothes that are still on the bed. “Get dressed. We have reservations.”

Bucky hurries to comply.


The restaurant is fancy. Steve drives them there in his Bugatti ridiculous car, pulling up curbside and tossing the keys to the valet who comes running. Bucky definitely feels a little like Julia Roberts as Steve smoothly takes him by the elbow and steers him into the restaurant. “Rogers,” he tells the host, who smiles and nods in that very-attentive way that only happens when a lot of money is being spent. They’re led back to their table and given water and house wine without even being asked.

Bucky stares as the host leaves, then looks at Steve. “This is fancy.”

“I told you it would be,” Steve says. “Don’t you think it’ll make our game more fun?”

Fuck. Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Steve smirks. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls something out and sets it on the table right next to his napkin. Bucky eyes it curiously. “What’s that?” It looks like a key fob to a car.
“Why don’t you pick it up and find out?” Steve says lightly.

His tone makes Bucky suspicious, but he’s curious, so he does. He turns the thing over in his hand. There’s a single button on it. He pushes it.

Ohmygod! Bucky grunts and slaps his hand to the dinner table, making a too-loud noise for the quiet dining room and causing several people to glance their way. The people look away again, but Bucky is gritting his teeth as he gets used to the feeling of the plug vibrating in his ass. He glares at Steve, who is grinning like the cat that got the canary, reaching out to take the key fob remote control back. “What, the hell, Steve,” Bucky mutters quietly.

Steve grins wider. “Didn’t I mention that it does that?” He’s talking in a regular tone, nothing that causes anybody to look over.

Just some normal dinner conversation, nothing to see here, folks.

No, you didn’t mention it,” Bucky hisses. He tries to right himself, compose himself so that he seems as calm and collected as Steve does. He’s not sure he quite succeeds, but at least he feels confident that he isn’t sticking out like a sore, sexually-pleasured thumb. “You’re a sadistic fuck,” he tells him.

Steve grins wider. He pushes the button and the vibrations change to a different pattern. Bucky gasps and Steve chuckles. “How’s that feel?”

Bucky glares daggers at him. “Good.” Really fucking good, actually. The toy isn’t shaped right to get at his prostate directly, but with the vibrations it’s enough to stimulate the general area. He can feel his blood pulsing there, making everything more sensitive. “Are you going to keep that on all night?” he asks, feeling slightly panicked at the thought.

The vibrations stop. “No.”

Oh, thank god.

“Just when I feel like you need a little reminder,” Steve says airily.

Bucky feels breathless, but in a good way. Because they’re just talking about this in the middle of a fancy-ass restaurant. It’s so different than the back row of that grungy theater he and Gavin used to go to. It’s outrageous. At least Steve doesn’t have his hand down his pants. “A reminder of what?” he pants.

“That you belong to me and I can do whatever I want to you.”

Bucky’s lower stomach clenches in arousal. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Okay.”

Just then their server comes and they stop talking as the man details the chef’s tasting menu and suggested wine pairings. Bucky fully expects Steve to turn the plug on sometime during this conversation, but he doesn’t. The server leaves with Steve having approved the tasting menu, and Bucky wondering just how much money that must cost. Steve jerks the menu out of Bucky’s reach before he can check. “That’s for me to know and you to shut up and say thank you for,” he says with a smirk.

Bucky tucks his lips in, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby boy.”


It’s a five course meal, which is a real thing that exists and gives Steve plenty of opportunity to drive Bucky absolutely fucking nuts with the vibrator. He flicks it on right after they’ve gotten their first course, and Bucky winds up blowing a spoonful of steaming soup halfway across the table. “Shit, Steve.”

Steve just raises an eyebrow at the stained tablecloth. “Honestly Buck, where’d you learn your table manners?”

Bucky has to grit his teeth and say nothing, because the sommelier arrives to tell them all about the wine that’s been paired with the soup. She leaves though, and then Steve is upping the ante. The vibrations don’t increase so much as they change tempo; from a light, fast hum to a deep throbbing pulse. Bucky swallows way more wine than he intends to, whimpering against the glass before lowering it carefully back to the table. “Christ,” he whispers.

“How’s it feel now?” Steve asks, voice so light and innocuous, he could be asking about the food.

“Still good,” Bucky says, trying not to grind back on the plug. The other patrons might take notice if he starts to hump his dining chair. “Ugh, really good.”

Steve is unfairly handsome as he smirks and brings the remote up to set it on the tablecloth. It’s obscene, but he can do it because it doesn’t look like the remote control to a sex toy that’s currently three point five inches up Bucky’s ass. It could be the key fob to his damn Mercedes, for all the people around them know.

But Bucky knows, and that’s what makes it so tantalizing to have to just sit there and watch Steve twirl the remote with his index finger, almost absentmindedly. “Are you hard?” he asks, watching Bucky’s eyes widen before he chuckles and scolds himself. “Oh, how stupid of me. Of course you’re not.” His eyes become serious and hot, staring Bucky down. “You can’t get hard, can you?”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. He’s actually sort of grateful for that fact, at this point, but somehow Steve’s taunting still gets to him. “No,” he says. “I can’t.”

“Mm. That must be frustrating.”

“Mildly.” Not as frustrating as this thing you’ve got vibrating in my ass, he thinks, lower body thrumming with arousal as the plug keeps up that deep pulse inside him. “It’ll certainly be hard to appreciate all this fine food you’ve so generously paid for,” he says, bringing his tone up to something more cultured and conversational as the server approaches with their next course. He sits back in his chair and keeps his eyes locked on to Steve’s as their plates are set in front of them, their wine glasses filled and explained.

“Thank you,” Steve says to the server and the sommelier, then waits as they leave. “Well I’d hate to rob you of the experience,” he says. The vibrations stop.

Bucky inhales deeply. This is going to be looong dinner.

Steve does torment him through every course. There’s hardly anything during salad, and then the entrée course is nothing but a frenzied variety of tempos. By dessert, Bucky has a wet spot at the front of his pants and he has to eat his tiramisu to the steady thump of the plug’s slowest setting. It’s torturous, and Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s never had the experience of feeling his body trying (and trying and trying) to get hard, and being shot down every time. It’s not technically painful, but it’s painful all the same. By the time Steve has signed the check, Bucky is practically sweating beneath the nice blazer Steve dressed him up in.

“How you doing?” Steve asks him as they wait for the valet to bring his car. He’s holding Bucky against his side, all pleasant-faced and relaxed like he hasn’t just put Bucky through an hour and a half of sexual torture. Currently, the plug is set to a low-level thrum. He rubs over Bucky’s shoulder. “S’cold out tonight, huh? When’s this warm weather supposed to be coming?”

Bucky scowls, wanting to smack Steve. He wants to shove him up against the side of his ridiculous Bugatti, when it arrives and the valet steps out and hands Steve the keys. He wants to shove him against it and fuck his tongue so deep in his mouth he never catches his breath to say another smarmy, cocksure thing ever again.

All he does is say, “It’s supposed to reach the seventies one day next week,” as they get into the car.

Chapter Text

Turns out, Steve has a large flat-screen tv in his bedroom, hidden behind a stylish (of course) sliding panel and in a custom (no fucking duh) niche built into the drywall. Jesus Steve, stop being so extra. And when Bucky says the tv is large, he means it’s LARGE. The view from the bed is more than enough to catch every detail of the Pornhub website that Steve pulls up.

Steve’s sitting up against the headboard, Bucky in his lap, between his legs. He’s naked just like Steve, only with the addition of the panties. …And the cage, and the plug. It’s not turned on, but Bucky is very aware of it in his ass, the solid weight of it against his rim making his hole twitch with any movement he makes. Steve tightens the one arm he’s got around Bucky’s waist while he handles the remote in his other hand and selects a playlist from his account.

Bucky swallows heavily, blood thrumming hot under his skin as he reads the playlist’s title: Daddy/boy..

“Fuck, Steve,” he whispers.

Steve kisses his neck. “You like that?”

Bucky nods, feeling lightheaded, the thought of Steve watching these videos when he’s alone getting to the very core of him. This is what Steve touches himself to. “We’re gonna watch?”

“Sure are.” Steve nips his skin. “If you’re okay with it, that is.”

“What?” Bucky scoffs. “Of fucking course I am. Christ.” He endures Steve’s teasing pinch and waits with bated breath as Steve starts the first video.

It’s two men standing in a bedroom. Probably a hotel room, by the looks of it. One of the men is tall and thick and strong, stubble on his jaw and age lines just beginning at the corners of his eyes. The other is young and lean and tanned, youthful fat still clinging to his muscles and smaller frame. Bucky gulps as he takes in the sight of the two of them, appreciating their bodies, the way that the older man pulls the younger one forcefully into his arms. Their cocks are trapped between their bellies, rubbing fruitlessly as they kiss.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters, dick throbbing in the cage as it fills with blood, trying to harden but unable to. “Steve,” he says. “Please, touch me?”

Steve does, his one hand sliding up to hold the front of Bucky’s throat while the other slips down to cup him over the panties. His hand is warm and firm where it holds him, felt even through the silk and lace and plastic. Where it should be nothing but frustrating, Bucky finds that it’s erotic as fuck, and it’s reassuring. He tries not to push up against it but isn’t entirely sure he succeeds.

Steve jostles the cage and speaks against Bucky’s ear and says, “Look at them.” Bucky does, eyes riveted to the video that’s playing out on the screen in front of them. The man is lowering the boy to the bed, putting his face right over the boy’s face and staring him down as he slips two fingers into his hole and pumps them. He’s speaking; filthy, intimate words that are only half-audible. “That’s it. Uh huh. That’s how you need it, isn’t it?” comes through, the man’s fingers pumping harder, the boy’s expression pinched and pleasured even as the man’s is composed and enraptured.

Bucky whimpers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Steve says. He kisses the shell of Bucky’s ear. “It’s like us, isn’t it?”

Bucky nods, wanting more of Steve’s words and that tone of voice that makes him feel utterly owned. “I’m your boy,” he says, needing to hear Steve agree, to hear him put him in his place. And, because he’d had drinks at dinner and another once they’d gotten home, he lets—“M’simple, desperate. Need it”—flow right out of his mouth like it’s nothing.

Steve seems to melt at hearing it. “Oh, Buck… That’s right, honey. I’m proud of you for admitting that, do you know? M’so fucking proud of you.” He exhales shakily in Bucky’s ear, which lets Bucky know just how much this is affecting Steve as well. Against Bucky’s back, Steve’s erection can be felt. “Look,” he says in Bucky’s ear, pointing his attention back to the tv. “Look how he’s fucking him.”

Bucky looks and sees, and he feels heat sweep through his belly at the sweet roll of the man’s hips into the boy. It’s so smooth and steady, so firm. Suddenly, Bucky is struck with the most intense urge to be taken just like that, maybe even forced. “S-steve,” he breathes. “I want you to do that.”

“Oh, honey, of course.” Steve hugs him back against his chest, harder than ever. “Of course I will. That’s what you need, isn’t it?”

Bucky whimpers.

“It’s okay, it’s only natural. I’ll take care of you, you know that, right? I’ll be your Daddy anytime you need.”

“What if I need you all the time?” Bucky wants to hear Steve remind him that he’s his, that he belongs to him. He wiggles in Steve’s arms and Steve holds him still.

“I already know you do, baby. And that’s okay. I’m here for you.” He kisses along his neck, one hand still holding the cage and the other rubbing over his belly. “I always want to take care of you.”

Bucky melts at the raw honesty in Steve’s words. He feels so safe, hearing that, so taken care of. He feels the honey-slow trickle of submission starting up in his brain, and it makes him smile. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome baby boy. Look back up at it, watch the video.”

Bucky’s eyes find the tv screen again, watching the scene and getting turned on by it. The man’s still fucking the boy, slow but deep, every thrust connecting their bodies solidly and making their skin slap together. He’s got one hand on the boy’s throat and his eyes are burning down at him as the boy whimpers and doesn’t look away from his stare. “Take it,” the man keeps saying. “That’s it, just take it. He says other things, the types of dirty-sweet things that Steve would say, if he were fucking Bucky like that. Bucky moans quietly when Steve starts running his hands all along his inner thighs, knocking the cage around with his knuckles. It makes Bucky’s cock ache, pulsing with blood and straining against the plastic. “Oh, Steve,” he moans. “Please.”

“You want more?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods jerkily. “Yeah, please.”

Steve hums and kisses at his neck, hips pressing his cock against Bucky’s backside. “Well since you asked so nicely.” He pushes Bucky away, climbing out from behind him and guiding him to lay out on the bed. “Just be still,” Steve tells him. “Be good and let me touch you how I want.”

Bucky nods, wanting nothing more than to make Steve happy, to be a good boy and do the best job for him. “Can I come?” he asks, voice breathy.

“Maybe,” Steve says, smoothing his hands up Bucky’s thighs when he whines. “Shh. None of that. You can come if you’re sweet for me, and if you focus real hard on how I’m touching you.” He gives Bucky a meaningful look. “I’m not taking the cage off. You’ll have to come without your cock.”

“Oh.” Bucky shivers at that thought, wanting it and turned on by it, but unsure if he’ll be able to. Steve had made him come like that once before, so he’s hopeful it can happen again. “Please, Daddy,” he says. “I wanna do that. Help me do it.”

Steve smiles tenderly, hands going to the lace edge of the panties. “‘Course, baby.” He eases the panties down, pulling the delicate fabric past the cage and tucking it behind so his cock and balls are on display. “Gorgeous,” Steve murmurs. He trails his fingers over him, the short length of the cage and his smooth balls just behind. “It’s gonna be so good,” he promises, then pulls the panties off completely, easing them down and allowing Bucky to kick them off. He settles between Bucky’s legs, hand coming up to pet his jaw as he lays over him. “Hey,” he murmurs.

“Hey,” Bucky says back. God, Steve’s weight pushing down on him is so good. It makes him squirm and push up against it to feel the solidness of Steve, the heavy weight of his cock where it rests in the crease of his thigh. “Oh, that’s nice.” Distantly, he can hear the video still playing; the moans and soft sounds of the couple fucking. Bucky’s stomach muscles clench in another wave of arousal. He feels his balls twitch. Steve kisses him suddenly, forcing his mouth open and taking what he wants, thumb stroking over his throat and pressing down against his Adam’s apple. It makes Bucky gasp into the kiss, imagining Steve doing more, pressing harder, really controlling his breath.

Steve pulls away and tells him, “Reach under the pillow, left one.” Bucky’s eyes flick up to the pillows at the head of the bed. He hums, stretching to try and reach under the pillow. His hand finds what he knows is a bottle of lube, and he grins as he brings it back down and hands it to Steve. Steve smiles. “Good boy. You want this?”

“Of course,” Bucky whispers. “Always.”

“Hm.” Steve gives him the bottle and holds out his hand. “Then give me some.”

Oh. Bucky’s eyes go half-lidded and his belly tightens. He doesn’t know what it is that makes that so erotic, but Steve telling him to squirt lube into his hand so that he can finger him really gets Bucky hot. He gets some on Steve’s hand and watches as he rubs his fingers together. Bucky swallows heavily and looks up at him. “Stretch me good, Daddy?”

Steve’s eyes go all soft and wanting, which is honestly the best look Bucky’s ever seen on him. He brings his hand down between Bucky’s legs. “Of course, honey. Real good.” His fingers take hold of the base of the plug and Bucky gasps.

“Oh!” He’d almost forgotten he was wearing it. He pants as Steve plays with it, pulling it halfway out to the widest part before pushing it back in and fucking him softly with it. “Mmm,” Bucky hums. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” Steve pulls it back out to the widest part again, teasing his rim with it. “You’ll be open from wearing this all evening. Might not have to stretch you so much after all.”

Bucky whines, not liking that. “No,” he says, fingers curling harder into Steve’s shoulders where he’s holding him. “I still want it, please.”

“What do you want, baby? Steve asks. He pulls the plug out all the way, watching Bucky’s expression with keen eyes. Then he touches his hole with wet fingertips, playing around the loose rim but not pushing in. “Tell me, Buck,” he whispers, imploring, intimate. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. You just gotta say it.”

Bucky groans, or at least he does internally. “I— your fingers,” he says. “I want ‘em. Want you to fuck me with ‘em.”

Steve hums and rubs the flat of his fingers against his hole. “Here?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods.

“Say it,” Steve tells him again, and Bucky’s pulse throbs as he realizes what Steve wants.

“My ass,” he says. “Please, put your fingers in me. Fuck my ass.”

Steve’s eyes light up, but he tuts as if Bucky’s disappointed him. “Aw, sweetie,” he says. “We both know what this really is.” He traces his hole lightly, circling the rim with a single finger. “Why don’t you say it, hm? Come on.”

Bucky feels that bright thrill of arousal and humiliation take him, intensified by how sweet Steve is being. And Bucky wants to be that for Steve, wants to say it, when his face is burning and he whispers, “…It’s a pussy, Daddy.”

“That’s right, baby boy. S’the sweetest I’ve ever had, you know that?” Bucky moans softly and Steve chuckles. “Whose is it?” He pushes the tip of a finger in, just barely penetrating him. “Who does this sweet cunt belong to?”

God, but it’s perfect. Bucky’s so unbelievably lucky he has Steve. He wets his lips and says, “Yours, Steve. It’s yours.”

The fact that Bucky’s called him by name while admitting that seems to get to Steve more than anything yet, if his tender expression is anything to go by. He looks down at Bucky like he’s in love. “Yeah, baby boy. Right again.” He strokes his free hand over his cheek and stares straight at him as he pushes the first finger in. “Such a smart boy,” he murmurs. He watches Bucky’s face as he feels it. “Good?”

“Mmhm.” Bucky closes his eyes, squirming down on the finger that feels good but not as big as it usually would, since he’s had the plug stretching him. “Oh,” he gasps quietly when Steve starts to move the finger, thrusting lightly. “Mm, a-another?” Bucky asks.

Steve doesn’t even say anything, just pulls out and presses right back in with two. Bucky can’t help the shiver that passes through him, whole body, at the feeling of being fucked by Steve’s hand. Steve’s curling his fingers now, rubbing over his prostate on every pass and making tiny shocks of pleasure go up Bucky’s spine. It’s like the feelings are stronger when his cock isn’t in the picture; all the pleasure and sensitivity rerouted back to his ass. Bucky’s fingers dig deeper into the muscle of Steve’s back. “Oh, Steve. Yes.” He’d say more, but his brain feels slow now. Finding the right words is hard, and he’s okay with not making the effort. He just wants to feel.

Steve’s thumb rubs at the corner of his eye. “Open your eyes, Sweetheart.” Bucky does, and Steve smiles down at him. “I want you looking at me,” he says. “I want to see you feeling good.”

Bucky exhales a puff of breath, loving that so much. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Okay.”

“You want another?”

Bucky nods fast. “Uh huh.” Steve slips another finger in, and with three fingers inside, the stretch is enough to make Bucky really feel it. He whines at the pressure, humping down against Steve’s hand as he finger fucks him. He hits his prostate less frequently, which makes it more of a tease and makes Bucky just want to get his cock in him faster. “Daddy,” he pants. “Daddy I’m ready.”

Steve’s hand stills. “You sure?”

“Yes. I want your cock.”

Steve groans. He fucks his fingers into Bucky’s ass a few more times, then pulls his hand away. The loss is regrettable, but Bucky knows he’s getting something better, so he’s patient. He brings his knees up further, tilts his pelvis up. “Yes,” he sighs.

But Steve starts moving away, leaving Bucky’s body and stretching further up the bed. And No, no! Bucky yelps in protest, confused and unhappy at being left alone when he’s feeling this good. Steve reaches underneath the same pillow where the lube was hidden and comes back. He sits back on his knees… and he has a condom in hand. Bucky whimpers. “No,” he whines, feeling disappointed as Steve rips the packet open and takes the condom out.

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Baby, you know we have to.”

Bucky pouts but he knows Steve is right. He just nods his head and looks petulantly at the condom as Steve rolls it on. He sinks down over Bucky again, covering him, his cock resting heavy against his belly. He’s looking at Bucky affectionately as he says, “What? You want me bare inside you?”

Bucky can’t say yes. He just nods.


“…Come,” Bucky manages, and Steve understands.

“You want my come up in there?”

Again, Bucky nods. Steve hums darkly. “That’d be so messy, honey. It’d drip out of you, maybe for a while. You want to feel that?”

Bucky huffs and nods again, squirming. “Please,” he croaks. God, but it sounds so good. Steve giving him his come, using his body up like that, like it’s just a place to put his dick in to get off. “Please?”

Steve chuckles. He grabs the lube, gets some and spreads it over his cock with a few, firm strokes. “I love that you want that,” he says quietly, kissing Bucky’s lips, and then down the side of his face to his ear. He whispers, “I’d love to fill you up real full, breed you good.”

Bucky’s belly flips hard in arousal, mind instantly filling with so many dirty, impossible images. Oh, God. “Yes,” he’s breathing before he knows it. “Yes. Oh, fuck.” He can’t believe Steve said that. He loves Steve.

“Mm mn, honey.” Steve kisses him once more and pulls back to meet his eyes. “I’d love it, but I have to keep you safe.” Bucky whimpers at those words and Steve smiles. He strokes Bucky’s hair. “Have to take good care of what’s mine.” He takes his cock in hand, lines himself up, and pushes in.

The initial push is intense, just like it always is; Steve’s cock forcing Bucky’s body to open up to him, getting him used to the stretch, the pressure. He’s so gentle about it, though. Bucky clings to him and Steve stays buried to the hilt, whispering sweet things into his skin until Bucky relaxes, until his body relaxes and Steve can move.

He fucks him then, and it’s gentle and measured. It’s simple, just Steve, fucking him missionary style and rocking into him steadily until he gets close to orgasm. Bucky is overwhelmed with emotions that he can’t parse out, overwhelmed by the pleasure from his prostate and the constant, possessive stare that Steve keeps fixed on him as he moves them together. It feels like Steve is doing this just for Bucky, and the combination of all those things gets Bucky crying halfway into it. He can’t help it. Steve’s just loving him so good. Bucky starts making whimpering noises to try and apologize for the tears, but Steve hushes him.

“Shh, s’okay baby.” He’s a little out of breath, panting as he comforts him. He strokes a hand through Bucky’s hair, hips still thrusting at the same steady pace. “I know. It’s a lot, huh?”

Bucky sobs quietly and nods, arms clinging on to Steve like he’s the last rock in a violent sea. “S-steve.”

“It’s okay.” Steve kisses his cheeks, kisses the tears like they’re something precious. “It’s okay, just feel it. you’re allowed to cry. Just let go.”

Bucky comes dry, after that; his cock forgotten, all the pleasure centered on where Steve is buried up in him. And he’s silent as it happens, unable to get anything through his throat as the pleasure crests white hot and sharp, every muscle in his body tensing and locking up. Steve moans when it happens, encouraging him with sweet words that Bucky doesn’t hear. Bucky’s ears are filled with static by the time he starts breathing again, his eyes and mind fuzzy from the pleasure. He’s finished, but his mind is staying there in that warm, sticky, safe place. He’s aware of Steve, in a distant sort of way. He starts thrusting faster, harder, and Bucky’s eyes slide closed and the corner of his mouth twitches up. He wants Steve to come, wants him to use his body to make himself feel good.

This is perfect. He’s so safe. This is perfect.

Steve comes, and he’s loud, and it’s his moans that pull Bucky out of his head. He’s back in time to see the very end of Steve’s orgasm playing out over his face. Steve is staring at him, wrecked, and Bucky knows that Steve didn’t stop looking at him the whole time. The thought makes him shiver. Bucky’s still got his arms wrapped around Steve’s back, and Steve says, “Let me go baby. Come on, just for a second.”

Bucky doesn’t like that, but he listens, pulling his arms back and watching as Steve pulls out—he whimpers—removes the condom and tosses it aside. Suddenly, Steve comes back and stuffs his fingers into Bucky with no warning. He starts fucking him hard and fast, ruthlessly so. Bucky cries out from the forcefulness of it, hands grabbing at Steve again. Steve shoves one of them down and holds it against the sheets, refusing him. His hand is fucking Bucky so hard, viciously, and the stimulation is almost too much after Bucky’s orgasm. He whimpers, not understanding. “S-steve?”

“Come again,” Steve says, rough, like it’s an order that Bucky can just follow. He keeps going, fucking his fingers in at an angle that lets him jab at Bucky’s prostate on every rapid push in.

It’s too much and Bucky whines, tossing his head. “I can’t, I can’t,” he cries.

“Look at me,” Steve commands. When Bucky does, Steve tells him. “You can. Focus.”

Bucky clenches his teeth and tries, clenching down on Steve’s fingers that are jamming into him too hard, fucking him too harshly when he’s so sensitive and worn out. He whines and cries out in frustration because he can’t, he can’t.

But the pressure on his prostate doesn’t let up, and it’s so fast, and it starts to feel good again. Steve’s not giving him a break, not giving him a choice in the matter at all. He’s… he’s forcing Bucky’s body to respond, Bucky realizes with a gasp. And it’s working, and the thought of it makes his body clench down hard in arousal.

The orgasm happens so fast that Bucky is taken completely by surprise. His breath catches on a shout as he’s suddenly coming, ass throbbing harder than ever around Steve’s fingers. “Oh f-fuuck!” His hips tilt up into it, shuddering from the intensity. “Oh, oh!” The backs of his eyelids seem to flash with colors from how hard he’s got them clenched shut. He exhales hugely and sinks against the bed. “Oh my god…”

Steve’s hand stops moving. He pulls it out. His body lays out on top of Bucky again, and when he speaks it’s quiet and gentle. “Open your eyes, baby.”

Bucky does. Steve’s face is there, and seeing him just makes Bucky want to cry again. He does, a few tears slipping out from how much he feels. Steve hushes him and hugs him, tucking Bucky’s face into his neck and his into Bucky’s. He continues to make small, soothing noises as Bucky comes down from his high, making sure that Bucky knows he’s there and that he’s going to take care of him. Bucky does know it, and he trusts it so much. Neither of them says anything after that, but they don’t need to. It’s just how it should be.

The sound of the tv eventually filters back into their notice, only this time it’s unwanted. Steve groans and flings his arm about in the sheets to locate the remote. He gets frustrated, eventually finds it, and shuts off the porn. Then he pulls Bucky back against his front to spoon, hugging him in a way that clearly says he’s not going to release him until he’s good and ready.

But Bucky is beyond okay with that. Steve can keep him forever, if he wants.