Bucky doesn’t notice Steve sitting in the living room when he walks into their apartment that evening. His footfalls are heavy; boots taking clunking steps because his legs feel like they’re about to fall off and he can never bring himself to care about those types of manners when he’s in the privacy of his own home. He shuts the front door behind him, looking about as grimy as he feels. His hair is greasy from sweating and then running his hand through it all day, his skin has a light coating of dust on it, and his underarms smell awful. He kneels and undoes each boot one at a time before placing them neatly by the door and then heading into the kitchen.
“Steve?” he calls out, flicking on the light and abandoning his tin lunchbox on the counter. He opens up the ice box and peers in, even though he knows there’s little there in terms of the makings for a decent meal; there hardly ever is. Still, there are a few crisp apples left from the grocer’s down the street. They’d only picked them up the day before so they were still fresh and had that nice crunch to them that made Bucky’s mouth water.
He realizes that no one’s answered him yet. Glancing up from over the door of the ice box, he repeats, “Hey Steve? I’m home.” He grabs the biggest apple of the bunch and then closes it as he straightens up. Exhaling on one side, he habitually wipes the apple off his shirt, and then pauses and curses under his breath, rolling his eyes, when he realizes that was about the dumbest thing he could’ve done, given the disgusting nature of his work clothes. He gives the fruit a quick rinse and then heads out of the kitchen, biting into the apple as he heads down the narrow hallway and welcoming the burst of flavour on his pallet.
The door to their bedroom is slightly ajar but the light’s off. Steve may be sleeping. Giving it a light rap with the back of his knuckles, Bucky quietly calls out through a mouthful of apple, “Steve?” But when he steps into the room, he can see even in the dark that Steve’s cot is empty. Frowning, he turns on the light and sure enough, no sign of Steve. Impulsively, he immediately grows anxious. Turning on his heel, he strides back down the hall and then walks into the living room.
Steve’s sitting on the couch. Bucky just about leaps into the air with surprise when he notices his best friend, namely because the main light in the living room is off so Steve’s mostly illuminated from the light over in the kitchen.
“Jesus, Mary, n’ Joseph, Rogers, you scared the jeepers out of me!” he exclaims, almost dropping his apple. He pounds on his chest lightly, coughing up some food that’d threatened to go down the wrong tube in the midst of his momentary scare. He exhales a relieved chuckle that abruptly cuts short when he actually takes in the sight of Steve’s appearance.
He’s sitting completely rigid; back straight (as straight as can be, anyways), hands tensely gripping onto the fabric of his pants just above his knees, and eyes facing forward. Bucky says his name worriedly and then notices the broken lamp on the floor next to the couch. The bulb is in several large chunks.
“Steve, what happened?” he asks, going over to it quickly and carefully plucking up the shards and collecting them into his palm so Steve won’t accidentally go stepping on them later.
“I’m sorry, daddy; I broke the lamp,” Steve says quietly, voice sounding shy. He looks down at his hands, sighing softly. “I swear I didn’t mean to.”
The word daddy is spoken so quietly that it completely misses Bucky’s ears. He just chuckles and replies lightheartedly, “Steve, it’s okay buddy, I’m sure it was an accident.” He doesn’t notice the way Steve frowns, glancing over at him; like that wasn’t the response he’d wanted to hear. Bucky gets back up and heads into the kitchen, dumping the glass into the trashcan.
When he comes back into the room to get rid of the rest of the broken lamp, Steve clears his throat and says a bit louder, “You aren’t upset with me, daddy?”
And nope, Bucky doesn’t miss it this time. He freezes, hand stopping in mid-air from where it’d been reaching out to pick up the short neck of the lamp. He glances up at Steve and can’t believe he hadn’t seen the naked vulnerability – the palpable want – on his face from the get-go.
“Oh…” he says slowly. “Umm…” Frowning, his gaze trails away in thought as he tries to figure out how to approach this as delicately as he can. “Steve,” he says slowly, softly. He clears his throat quietly and then says carefully, “It’s been a real long day, buddy. You saw; I didn’t get home until almost four hours after I was s’pposed to punch out. I’m beat…” He looks back to Steve and cuts himself off when he catches the tail end of his best friend biting his lip dejectedly and looking down at his hands with hurt written all over his face.
Because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go, Bucky knows this. It’s not like they even play this game often; sometimes it just… happens that way, every once in a while. They both know it’s not normal, nor is it right – but then again, a lot of what they do isn’t ‘normal’ or ‘right’. Like the way Bucky has Steve listed as his half-brother on their pa’s side at work so that it doesn’t seem suspicious when Bucky has to take sick leave so he can care for Steve when his best friend is bedridden. And it’s certainly not ‘right’ of either of them that Bucky goes out at night and chases skirts – sometimes comes home smelling of cheap perfume and sex – but then wraps his arms around his best guy and sucks him off when they both get bored.
They’re all each other has ever really had, so they always understood what the other needed; were always closer than regular boys usually are, no matter their age. They’ve never put a title to the strange relationship of theirs – there isn’t exactly one for ‘my best guy who might as well be my brother and who’s only just my friend, but I love him more than I could love anyone else and even though I see other people (ladies, Bucky means ladies), the second I walk through that door, I’m his and his alone.’
So, this game that they play – it’s no more bizarre than anything else they’ve ever done together. With all the laws they break in their cots at night, all the Bible passages they practically shit all over when they moan each other’s names under their breath, the nature of what they share is pretty much a felony of its own.
But Bucky’s just so damn exhausted tonight; he’s been having to work extra long hours, even pick up more shifts at his second job down at the diner where he washes dishes after busting his ass off at the docks during the day, just so they can make their rent at the end of the month. It’s isn’t Steve’s fault that he lost his last job because he came down with the flu. Bucky knows that, even if Steve may not. Bucky doesn’t mind being the breadwinner – he just wishes it didn’t always have to be so demanding. He’s rarely had any free time to himself in the past two weeks to go out drinking; only a small handful of times, which was a major difference from his usual preference of hitting some of his favourite holes in the wall on a nightly basis.
Usually Steve is a bit more mindful of when a good time to spring this on Bucky is and when it’s not. The blond gives a small nod, muttering his apology, and Bucky frowns, very much concerned. There’s something almost desperate in the way Steve’s looking right now, which isn’t at all like the guy he knows. He wonders what happened that day to get Steve so down.
He shifts awkwardly and then stands back up, heading over to Steve and giving the top of his head a small kiss. “M’sorry pal; it ain’t you, it’s me,” Bucky insists. “I’ll make it up to you sometime soon, okay? I promise.”
Steve looks to him; forces a tight smile and just nods again. “Sure, Buck,” he replies. He’s trying to mask himself so hard; Bucky can hardly stand it. When Steve looks back down to his hands, Bucky watches his face intently before sighing a second later and giving his golden hair another firm kiss.
“I’ll finish cleanin’ this up and then I’m gonna go grab a quick shower before I hit the sack, alright?” he says, going back over and bending down to pick up the mess.
“Just go, I’ve got this,” Steve says, voice flat to Bucky’s ears.
“It’s okay, Steve, I’m right here – it won’t take me long,” he replies lightly.
He’s got his back to Steve but he can hear his sigh clear and audibly. “Buck, just go grab your shower. Let me straighten this up; it’s my mess anyways,” his best guy mutters tiredly. Bucky hesitates – considers cleaning it anyways – but one thing he knows about Steve is that he doesn’t like people doing favours like this for him. It makes him feel incapable; coddled. So he just nods, thanks him quietly with a quick reassurance that he won’t take long, and then heads towards their bedroom so he can grab a fresh pair of clothes and his toiletries.
As he takes off his belt, slides it easily from the loops of his slacks and then pulls the pants off his legs, he thinks about that look on Steve’s face. It really throws him off and leaves Bucky feeling unsettled. More to the point, he feels guilty. The first time they’d done… that, it’d taken Steve every ounce of strength to get the words out. The whole thing had been his idea – though it had never really been proposed, more so it just sort of happened – and yet he’d struggled to voice it because Bucky understood how embarrassed the whole thing made him. Like he should have been ashamed for desiring such a thing, even though Bucky assured him that there was nothing wrong with it. He thinks to himself that him turning Steve down just now when the topic was always such a difficult one for Steve to approach in the first place probably only reinforced his best friend’s initial insecurities.
Frowning, he glances back to his belt, now strewn on his cot. Taking a deep breath, he makes up his mind. He’s exhausted and just wants to sleep, but he’ll do this for Steve because he’ll do anything for Steve, really. And he’s also not an idiot – he knows perfectly well that once they get into it, he’ll be swayed into it, too. Anything that involves him touching Steve always gets Bucky on board.
Taking his things, his clothing, and his belt, he walks back out towards the living room wearing nothing but his underwear and sleeveless white shirt. The broken lamp is all cleaned up, and Steve’s sitting back on the couch with a book in his hand. The main light in the living room is now on. Bucky puts everything but the belt down on the vacant side of the couch and then lets his arms hang by his sides. He’s already slipped into character; holding the worn-out leather in his hand tends to do that for him.
“Stevie,” he says simply, and he can practically feel the way the blond freezes in his seat, not having expected that. It’s a nickname Bucky had used for him back when they were kids, but he’d dropped it and stuck to calling him ‘Steve’ once they’d passed puberty. The only time Bucky ever calls him that now is when they’re playing.
“Stevie, look at me, baby boy,” he orders softly. He can see Steve’s adam’s apple bob as the smaller man swallows and then slowly looks up at him from the page of his book. His face already looks innocent – a front he adopts the moment this begins, and he’s so good at it, Bucky thinks. Such a sweet boy.
“What happened with the lamp? You go bein’ clumsy again and knock it over?” he asks with mock disappointment in his tone.
Steve’s cheeks go red as he closes his book and then puts it down beside him. He bunches his hands in his lap and wrings them shyly. Looking down, he mumbles guiltily, “Yes, daddy. M’sorry.”
“You know I ain’t made of money, Stevie,” Bucky says, shaking his head and tsking him. He’s not sure why Steve likes it when Bucky reproaches him during times like these, but he doesn’t let himself look too much into it, because he’s hardly any better – he gets off on doing it. “That’s the second lamp this month,” he adds, improvising. “I’m starting to think you’re doin’ it just to act out. Is that it?”
Steve shakes his head, eyes still cast downward on his hands. “No, daddy,” he whispers.
“Stevie, look at me,” Bucky says. Steve does, and it’s amazing, how just a few simple utterances and Steve being so quick to obey makes Bucky’s heart rate quicken. From the hard outline he can see in Steve’s pants, he guesses the feeling is already mutual. They haven’t been able to fool around in a while, and Steve was always so quick to rile up when he hadn’t been touched for some time.
“I’m very disappointed in you,” he says sternly, forcing his face to be disapproving. “I work my hide off all day so I can keep a roof over our heads and put food in your belly, and this is how you repay me? By breakin’ lamps just so you can be the center of attention? What happens when you act out, Stevie?”
“You take me over your knee,” Steve replies quietly. It’s another embellishment; Bucky’s only ever put him over his knee twice, namely because they’d talked about it beforehand and it was something Steve really wanted to try. Bucky does love the way Steve’s cute little ass turns the most beautiful shades of red when he brings his hand down on it, but he really is too tired for that tonight, so the illusion of the threat will have to make do.
“You want me to spank you until you learn your lesson?” he says sharply. He holds out the belt a bit, watching the way Steve’s eyes go to it and the blond’s breath hitches with excitement. “You want me to tear a strip off your backside?” (Another empty threat; he’s never once taken his belt to Steve’s rear and he never would unless Steve specifically asked him for it.)
But Steve is willing to pretend just as much as he is. “Please, daddy…” he breathes, just above a whisper, and Bucky replies, “Yeah, I bet you’d like that, sweet boy. Bet I could make you come again just from having your prick trapped between my thighs. But you know you don’t get rewarded for misbehaving; you wouldn’t learn your lesson if you did.”
“I’d do better,” Steve insists – no, that’s arguing – as his eyes meet Bucky’s, and they’re filled with hope. “I promise.”
“You back talkin’ me, boy?” Bucky asks with annoyance, tightening his grip on the belt. Steve visibly shrinks a bit, and things like that always make Bucky second-guess himself; if he’s ever taking it too far and the off chance that Steve would actually be too frightened to tell him.
But he knows that wouldn’t happen. His best friend may have these moments every once in a while where, for whatever reason, he craves Bucky making him feel beneath him, but Bucky knows better than anybody that if he crossed any lines, Steve wouldn’t hesitate to put him in his place. It’s why they work so well together.
“No, sir,” Steve insists meekly. He bites his lip and glances back down at his hands before saying shyly, “Please, daddy? I’ll be good. What I meant to say was, please don’t use the belt on me.”
“Well, maybe I think you deserve it,” Bucky quips, just to make things difficult for him. “I don’t know; I’m getting real tired of you pullin’ stunts like this, boy; treatin’ me like you ain’t grateful for everything I give you.”
“I am grateful, daddy,” Steve insists, now rising to his feet at the accusation. Yeah, Bucky knows he is, would never doubt it for a second, but he acts to the contrary because that’s how the game is played. Normally he’d reproach Steve for standing without his permission, but then he remembers that look on Steve’s face again, and he decides that he can’t go too rough on him tonight. He doesn’t have it in him to do that to Steve at the moment.
“You give me so much,” Steve says quietly, coming up to him and reaching out to slowly drag his fingertips along the leather of Bucky’s belt. Bucky watches him shiver, baby blues fixed on it the whole time, and Bucky’s cock gives a small jump of excitement in his underwear. “I’m sorry,” Steve then whispers, stepping forward hesitantly and wrapping his arms around Bucky’s middle. Hugging himself to the brunet, Steve buries his face in Bucky’s dirty undershirt.
Warmth fills Bucky’s chest; he’d work one hundred hours without a break if he could feel his sweet boy in his arms like this, every second for the rest of his life. “I know you are, Stevie,” he murmurs, wrapping one arm around Steve’s waist while petting the back of his hair with his other hand. “I forgive you, baby boy. M’not mad, I promise.”
“I just miss you,” Steve suddenly says, and it throws Bucky off – makes his heart twist painfully – because there’s something undeniably Steve in the way he says it. Steve, not Stevie. Underneath the façade, he’s voicing a very real feeling.
And suddenly Bucky gets it completely – why he’d been so desperate for this tonight, and why he’d looked so rejected when Bucky had initially told him no… Because he has been busy lately, whether he was working late shifts, or crashing as soon as he got home, or using what free time he did have to be out at dance halls so he could drink and find a pretty dame to fuck for fun. He hadn’t even realized he’d been neglecting Steve that badly; he should’ve realized it sooner, should’ve noticed how badly Steve was hurting.
“You think I’ve forgotten about you, Stevie?” he asks slowly, trying to stay in character.
Steve hesitates but then mumbles, “You’re just always busy… I wish you were home more. Feels like you never have time for me no more.”
“Oh, sweet boy, I could never be too busy for you,” Bucky says sincerely, making a sad sound and then tugging him a bit closer. He leans forward a bit so he can rest his chin on top of Steve’s head of golden hair. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been giving you what you need. You need me here, don’t you? You need me takin’ care of you; keep you out of trouble, make sure you’re tended to.”
Steve nods against his chest, eyes now closed. “Yes, daddy,” he says in a small voice before humming softly when Bucky’s fingers move down and run lightly across the fine hairs at his nape. “I need you more.”
Than who? Than everyone, this Bucky knows and does not question.
“What’s the one thing I always give you, sweetheart?” he asks, trailing his hand down Steve’s back now. He slides it beneath the fabric of the smaller man’s shirt and then lightly drags his fingers up his spine, making Steve still in his arms and then shiver.
“What I need,” Steve breathes automatically, the answer ingrained into his head. His concealed erection presses against Bucky’s thigh.
“Yes, that’s right,” Bucky replies. “I will always give you what you need. What do you need now, Stevie?”
When he slides his hand beneath Steve’s shirt so he can run his hand up to the blond’s chest, he pulls back so he can see the look on his sweet little boy’s face. Steve’s eyes are still closed, but his lips are parted and his brows are knit as if in concentration. Bucky brushes his thumb over one of Steve’s tiny nipples because he knows how sensitive he is there and he loves to see the look on his face when it always earns him a soft gasp.
“I… I need you to touch me more,” Steve requests, feigning sheepishness. His grip in Bucky’s shirt tightens with another gasp as Bucky pinches his perky nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“You need me to touch you more, what?” Bucky asks sternly, giving it another tweak, this time a little harder.
Steve yelps in his throat, trying to keep quiet, and then grits out, “I need you to touch me more, daddy, please. I promise I won’t get into anymore trouble, I’ll be so good.”
“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, nodding in agreement. “Yeah you will, because you’re my good little boy, ain’t ya?”
Steve nods enthusiastically, humming his agreement and then crying out softly when Bucky gives his other, neglected nipple a teasing pinch.
“You shower today, baby boy?” Bucky asks.
Steve opens his eyes and gives Bucky a genuinely apologetic look before answering, “No, daddy, I… I was hopin’ I could share with you.”
It’s always a gamble, because they never know if someone else on their floor will come walking into the shared bathroom while they’re in a compromising position. Still, it’s rather late, and maybe it’s too risky to get away with going all the way out there, but Bucky figures they can settle for some light hanky-panky if they’re quick about it.
He tutts Steve for his negligence. “You know I like you clean and ready for me when I get home from work, Stevie,” he says, shaking his hand and sliding his hand out from under Steve’s shirt, earning him big, unintentional puppy dog eyes from Steve. “Don’t you like having my tongue on you?”
Steve’s eyes grow wider with a renewed hope. He nods eagerly. “Yes, daddy, very much. Your tongue always feels so nice,” he adds, looking shyly at the ground; he always adds things like that because he knows Bucky likes to hear him get specific.
Bucky just watches him with a slightly miffed expression, putting his hands on his hips, belt still in hand. “Well I certainly can’t do that if you’re not clean down there, now can I?”
Steve shakes his head, embarrassed. Bucky decides to cut him some slack. He gets a small, adoring smile and slips a finger under his chin, tilting his sweet boy’s head up so his precious baby blues will look him in the eye. He leans forward a bit and says softly, “You want me to take off your clothes and wash you, baby? Get your hole nice and clean so I can lay you down nice and comfy, and eat you out?”
He watches Steve’s pupils dilate, oh fuck, yeah, and hears the way his breathing picks up and comes out shallowly. (He’ll have to make sure he casually brings one or two of Steve’s asthma cigarettes with them into the bathroom in case something goes wrong.) Steve gives him a little nod and Bucky uses his thumb to trap his chin in a light grip. He runs his thumb across Steve’s bottom lip and groans softly when the blond tilts his chin down ever so slightly so he can touch it with the tip of his tongue. He’s so damn greedy for all of Bucky and honestly, Bucky adores him for it.
He gives Steve what he wants; pushes his thumb gently against his tongue, watching with his own exploded pupils as the blond lets his daddy slide it in between his lips. Sighing happily, Steve suckles on it slowly, closing his eyes. Bucky releases the breath he’d been holding, exhaling fuck softly, like it hadn’t even meant to slip out. He feels the gentle suction around his thumb – the hot, wet, velvety feeling of Steve’s cheeks mixed with the spongy slide against his baby boy’s tongue and the hard pallet of the roof of his mouth.
He swallows the lump in his throat, wondering and knowing he’ll never know how he could be so lucky to have this boy in his life. “Stevie, sweet boy, you know I like to hear you ask for it. That’s the rule. You want it, you need to tell me.”
It’s about the only time where Steve will come out of his shell long enough to say the filthy things aloud that he and Bucky both want Bucky to do to him. The fact that having to say them in order to get it leaves him feeling so shamed, only seems to turn Steve on more during times like these, which in turn makes Bucky aroused - because it’s impossible not to get a hard-on when Steve looks so beautiful and needy.
Steve reluctantly lets Bucky’s spit-slicked thumb drop from his mouth, and when he raises his eyes to meet Bucky’s, the brunet traces his mouth with it before purposely rubbing it along his chin, making it glisten.
“I want you to let me shower with you,” he says quietly, “and clean up my asshole, since I didn’t do that for you already, and I’m sorry for that, sir,” he adds quickly. “Please, daddy? I want to be clean for you so I can feel you eat me out.”
He’s so fuckin’ good at this, at playing his part, because he literally hits every one of the crucial points, leaving Bucky’s prick rock hard in his underwear and pitching a very obvious tent. “And can I make you come just from my tongue alone?” he deliberately asks, knowing the answer full well.
Steve turns red to the very tips of his ears. He shuffles uncomfortably and bites his lip, looking away, but nods. “Yes, daddy, every time, if you let me,” he answers like the good little boy he is.
“But I don’t always let you,” Bucky finishes.
A frustrated look flashes across Steve’s face for just the briefest of seconds and then he’s nodding again. “No, sir.”
“And why don’t I?”
“Because if I’m bad, I don’t deserve to come from your tongue.”
“Because what do I always give you?” Bucky asks softly, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for arguing.
“What I need.”
“So if I say you don’t need to come, do you need to come?”
Steve pauses, struggling with that one. But he knows the proper answer – how they play this game right – so he answers obediently, “No, daddy.”
“Good boy,” Bucky says lovingly, tugging Steve’s chin up so he can give his lips a small, warm kiss. Steve makes the smallest humming sound in his throat, aroused as always from the praise, and as always, the sound makes Bucky’s stomach flop. “You acted out today, but I understand why you did it. I’m sorry I made you feel neglected, Stevie. You’re my precious boy, so sweet, you’re so damn sweet, Stevie. I’m gonna treat you right, give you what you need; don’t want you ever thinkin’ I don’t got time for you or that I don’t love you.”
“I know you love me,” Steve replies, and for a split second, that’s all Steve, and Bucky knows he means that as more than just his precious baby boy. Steve does this sometimes, always to reassure the brunet that everything they’re saying, everything they’re doing, it’s all okay. This is when they can voice the things they never can when they're back in reality. Steve wants it, and he’s grateful to have it. Bucky nods, eyes roaming his face and then brushing his bangs from his forehead.
“Good, ‘cause I do.”
“I love you too, daddy,” he says in a small voice – one much softer and shyer than the deep tone he has regularly. Bucky shivers.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up, sweetheart,” Bucky says, giving Steve a moment to go grab his things as he takes up his own again. He abandons his belt on the couch and then they head out the front door.
No one comes into the bathroom while they shower, but they keep an eye out and make it quick anyways. They don’t have much soap to spare, but Bucky puts extra effort into creating a decent lather so he can scrub Steve’s hair clean while the smaller boy stands patiently with his arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist, letting Bucky take proper care of him. Then he gets Steve to lift his arms so he can spread some more soap and clean his upper body. Steve always snorts out a laugh whenever Bucky’s hands clean his armpits, and Bucky has to fight the grin that threatens to curl his lips upward. He keeps it contained to an adoring smile and lightheartedly tells Steve to calm down before he wakes the neighbours.
Steve isn’t laughing when Bucky sets aside a few minutes all on their own so he can wash Steve’s rear and thoroughly clean his asshole. He grips onto Bucky’s bicep, presses his forehead to the brunet’s chest as Bucky multitasks between sliding his fingers in and out of Steve, teasing him and starting the process of opening him up, while also keeping a paranoid eye on the door just in case he needs to quickly pull away at any given moment. Since he’s the one on guard, Steve has the freedom to pant quietly into his chest; the sound masked by the running water. He keeps breathing strained and needy, Please daddy’s, and every time he does, heat runs through Bucky’s cock and he makes sure to press his fingers just the right way so he can stimulate his sweet little boy’s prostate.
After Bucky turns off the shower, Steve stands very still while Bucky makes a point to pat him down dry. They’ve only got two towels each to their name, which is more than enough, and Bucky’s thankful they’d just been able to afford a new rub board so they could clean some of their dirty things. The towels are long and for Steve, way too big. Usually it makes wrapping it around his waist on regular days a little awkward, since it hangs by his ankles. But when Bucky’s taking care of his little boy like this, it’s the perfect size for him to wrap around Steve’s shoulders and bundle him up in it.
When they get back to their apartment, Steve obediently heads straight for the bedroom, where he removes the towel as Bucky puts their cots side by side, before laying himself down on his back. In the summer months, their crappy place gets disgustingly hot, which means their blankets are on the floor and the windows are kept open at night to try and cool the place down. Bucky sits on his knees between Steve’s opened legs and rubs gentle circles on the inside of his thighs, reminding him patiently, “You know I love hearing you, baby boy. But you know the rules; you gotta stay quiet for me. If you don’t, m’gonna have to stop, and you know how upset I get when I have to stop touchin’ you.”
Steve shivers at the implied threat and nods. “I’ll be good,” he promises.
“Atta boy, you listen so well,” Bucky murmurs.
He lowers himself onto his belly and drapes Steve’s scrawny legs over his shoulders, where Steve lets the heels of his feet rest and press lightly on Bucky’s lower back. Using his thumbs, he spreads the blond’s cute little ass cheeks, revealing his tiny pink hole. Bucky licks his lips, already salivating.
“Sometimes I think nothin’ could be as beautiful as you, all spread for me like this,” Bucky husks, and Steve squirms. Bucky knows this is one of Steve’s favourite parts – when he’s embarrassingly on display; his best friend so intently staring at his most private spot. His cheeks are burning with a fresh blush and he can never meet Bucky’s eyes until he’s being broken down piece by piece with Bucky’s expert tongue.
Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly evil, Bucky will force Steve to stay like that for a while; making conversation that Steve struggles to return, all the while keeping his buttocks spread with his hands and doing nothing more than simply letting Steve’s hole be shown off proudly. It makes Steve feel so dirty and shamed, but he never asks Bucky to stop, and it’s a strange sort of foreplay because it always leaves Steve’s dick flushed and leaking against his belly.
Bucky doesn’t feel like torturing Steve tonight; he resolves that the next time they play this game, he’ll take the proper time to stretch it out and milk it for everything it’s worth, just to make it up to his sweet boy. He’ll make him come all night – some orgasms, withheld painfully until the exact moment when Bucky decides that Steve earns it, and others, forced on him quick and overwhelming while he hears Steve begging him to slow down.
For now, he wastes little time leaning forward and probing that tight ring of muscles with the tip of his tongue; circling the rim and flicking it over the center while he keeps his eyes on Steve’s face. Watching him that first moment when Bucky licks him is honestly one of Bucky’s favourite things because Steve always falls apart so sweetly. His eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls open into a silent scream as he arches his neck, driving his head back into his pillow while his hands fly up for something to clutch onto.
Bucky smirks, exhaling a small chuckle and a rush of hot air against Steve’s ass. “You like this?” he asks. Steve gives a vehement nod, first licking and then biting down on his bottom lip. Bucky makes a show of licking wet, fat stripes all along the perimeter of Steve’s hole while avoiding touching the entrance itself. This rewards him with a soft, high whine from Steve’s throat as the smaller boy tries to angle himself in the wake of Bucky’s tongue – almost as if trying to beat Bucky at his own game and ‘accidentally’ put his asshole in the way.
Bucky clucks his tongue against his top teeth and then puts a big hand on Steve’s stomach to pin him down. Turning his face into the soft skin of Steve’s inner thigh, he licks along it, feeling the fine, thin hairs tickle against his tongue. Steve jerks with a surprised little yelp when Bucky nips him – hard enough to leave a bruise, but that hardly says much because Steve bruises at the drop of a hat. He sucks over the teeth marks, trying to force a dark red blemish to form under his lips, because Steve always tells him how he likes walking around with Bucky’s imprints beneath his clothes; a silent declaration of Steve being his, even if the rest of the world will never know. Because he is Bucky’s, no one else’s – nothing could change that, and Bucky wouldn’t hesitate to lay his hands on anyone who tried to say otherwise.
“You want me to lick you open, sweet boy?” he asks quietly, teasing Steve by letting his tongue flicker over his hole.
Steve sucks in a noisy breath of air and then answers shakily, “Please, daddy… I won’t break the rules no more, I swear… I just wanna make you happy, I love you so much, daddy. Please put your tongue in me…”
“So perfect when you talk like that,” Bucky groans. “You always make me happy, Stevie. Love my precious little boy so much, especially when he does what I say so nicely.”
He gives it another nice, slow lick. He licks his lips and breathes, “Fuck, you always taste so good,” before closing his mouth over it and plunging his tongue forwards. Steve chokes on a cry that he struggles to hold back, but he’s good for his daddy, and he forces it to stutter out into a grunt. His fingers thread into Bucky’s damp hair and cling by the roots, forcing a nice sting across Bucky’s scalp.
They’d had to learn these sorts of things together along the way, but thanks to that, Bucky swells with pride in the knowledge that only he knows Steve’s body like this; knows exactly what he likes and how to get him off. When it comes to this sort of stuff, Bucky’s always loved using his tongue for more than just forming sweet talk. Licking Steve’s asshole is no different, really, than all the times he’d tongue-fuck a dame’s dripping cunt in order to get her off. Steve may not be able to get wet the same way a lady can, but with the enthusiasm and vehemence with which Bucky sucks and licks him loose, it’s still just as messy.
He knows that he can get Steve to come completely untouched when they do this, too – it just takes more time, patience, and Bucky’s care. He listens to his baby boy’s soft, whiney breaths – those beautiful little gasps and the low groans he whispers into the night’s air – and keeps an open ear to making sure nothing gets too quick or too erratic. Helping his Stevie through a sudden asthma attack wouldn’t pull him out any from their little game, because the whole point is for him to be able to take care of Steve. But for Steve’s sake, Bucky never likes having him to have to go through that, and for Bucky’s sake, he just really doesn’t want to have to pull his tongue out of Steve’s ass.
Bucky makes loud slurping sounds as the minutes bleed away and yet he shows no signs of letting up on his task. He alternates between sucking on him, darting the tip of his tongue against him, drawing thick circles and figure eights, and then thrusting his tongue in and out and fucking Steve’s insides with it. He’s got spit running down his chin and Steve’s hole is a goddamn beautiful sloppy mess, glistening with Bucky’s saliva and twitching visibly every time Bucky pulls back to admire it before diving back in. Above him, Steve’s head is turning uselessly from side to side as barely audible, fucked out moans push out with every breath. Getting eaten out always turns him into a complete wreck, and debauched Steve is definitely Bucky’s favourite Steve, because only he ever gets to see it.
“You wanna sit your delicious little ass on my face and ride me, baby?” he asks, voice raspy and thick with arousal.
“Please, daddy,” Steve moans without even having to give it a second’s thought. He waits his turn, until Bucky is sitting back on his haunches and wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, before forcing his jelly-like limbs back into action. Squeezing to the side, he gives Bucky the room to take up the empty space and lie down in Steve’s spot, nestling the back of his head comfortably on the otherwise lumpy pillow. He peers up at Steve with an amused expression and then slowly licks his lips, watching Steve’s baby blues fall to his mouth and follow the hypnotic movement of his tongue.
“You gonna make me wait, precious?” Bucky tests. “You know I don’t beg.” Reaching out, he gently closes his fingers around his sweet boy’s skinny wrist and starts pulling him closer, purring, “But it’s been a long day and I’m hungry, and you taste so fuckin’ good, Stevie. You gonna let me eat that little ass out 'til I’m full?”
Steve shuffles closer on his knees, swinging one leg on either side of Bucky’s abdomen. “Yes, daddy,” he answers quietly, his leaking cock flushed and bobbing straight in the air. Bucky playfully grabs Steve’s hip in one hand and then smacks the blond’s buttock with the other hand, taking a big handful and squeezing the second it makes contact and then pulling him closer up his chest. Steve squeals with delight, a big, open-mouthed grin spreading across his face as he momentarily breaks character. Bucky meets his eyes and get a cheeky, boyish smirk as well. When Steve’s knees are lodged under his armpits, he glances down at the blond’s erection and slips back into the game, making a sympathetic sound.
“Aww, baby, your prick looks so neglected. Look how hard it is; you must be hurtin’, huh?” He drags his index finger over the tip, the quick, gentle pressure making Steve’s grin drop into another breathless, open-mouthed expression. Bucky sucks the thin layer of precome off his finger, humming at the taste, before giving Steve a soft, nurturing look. “You want me to take care of your cock a bit, precious?”
Steve just stares at him wide-eyed and lets out a lost-sounding exhale of a moan. He whispers, “Please, daddy,” just as Bucky cups Steve’s ass and then leans his head up to wrap his lips around the tip and start sucking downward. Steve tosses his head back and involuntarily cants his hips forward, forcing his dick deeper into Bucky’s mouth than the brunet was expecting.
Eyes widening, Bucky pulls back, lets Steve slip from his mouth, and growls sharply, “Hey!” as he spanks Steve’s left buttock roughly. Steve chokes on a grunt of pain and lets his head fall forward, looking back down at him. Bucky looks up firmly, feigning annoyance and strictly saying, “You know better than to do that, boy! Bad – that was bad; now I’m not gonna suck your cock.”
“Daddy, please,” Steve whines anxiously, the words coming out rough and genuinely desperate.
Bucky pinches Steve’s other cheek roughly, making Steve force down another high-pitched sound as his body startles. “I said no,” Bucky reproaches. “You keep tryin’ to defy me and I’m gonna tie you down to the bed n’ make you watch while I jerk myself off. I won’t let you come – bad little boys don’t get to come. I’d just blow my load all over your chest and then finger-feed to you until you had yourself all cleaned up.”
Steve’s eyes become doe-eyed as he listens to Bucky’s threat and fuck, okay, maybe that’s something Bucky needs to file away for later use because Steve only becomes more aroused at the sounds of it. For now, he just maintains his unimpressed demeanour and gruffs, “Turn around, ass up.”
Disappointed, Steve does as he’s told. He rearranges himself so Bucky can rest his arms on the back of his calves while Steve scooches his rear up to his face. He’s still wet and lax, which pleases Bucky enough to get his own tip shiny with precome. He says nothing; just pillows one arm behind his head while his other hand runs up along his cheek gently, taking note of the tiny red welt on the skin from where Bucky had pinched him.
“You know I don’t like getting stern with you,” he says soothingly, brushing his thumb over it. Steve hisses softly and then moans in response. Bucky lets his head rest comfortably and then says, “Back your pretty ass up. You want my tongue, you gotta work for it.”
Exhaling shakily, Steve wiggles himself back until the crease of his cheeks brushes Bucky’s lips. “Hold yourself open for me,” Bucky instructs. Steve turns his head so he can rest his cheek on the older boy’s pelvis, nose touching the side of Bucky’s dick. Reaching behind him, he spreads himself apart and waits. “Good, baby,” Bucky congratulates him quietly before closing his eyes and working his tongue back into Steve while the blond does all the work of keeping himself in place.
Bucky groans as Steve pushes against his face, needy to get every inch of that warm, wet muscle inside of him as much as he can. Steve quivers and makes those beautiful, breathless sounds again as he pants with closed eyes. Every few seconds, he slides his tongue out from between his parted lips and gives little kitten licks to the side of Bucky’s cock, making his daddy moan and bury his face deeper against him. When the fire in Steve’s belly grows too hot to handle remaining an idle passenger, he mouths at Bucky’s erection and kisses it adoring; never putting it into his mouth, what with the angle he’s at, but lavishing his lips and tongue along it in whatever way he can manage.
Bucky slides his arm out from behind his head so he can reach forward and squeeze his arms through the opened space between Steve’s legs. He hooks the elbows around the front of Steve’s thighs, reaching around and holding onto the sides of his ass, right above where Steve’s hands keep himself wide open. Bucky pulls him closer, breathing steady and deep through his nose as he lets his jaw fall open wider, bottom teeth pressing against Steve’s skin. Slowing the movements of his tongue, he starts rubbing it over his hole slow and hot, making Steve release a wobbly, quiet sob. His hands are shaking, making his cheeks shiver on either side of Bucky’s face.
He knows Steve is close. He’s such a fucking sweet, precious boy, because his body is so responsive and he always lets Bucky make him feel so amazing. Bucky pushes his tongue as far into him as it looks like it’ll go, but then uses his grip to pull Steve towards him more, getting that extra half inch so that Bucky’s physically straining to stay as deep as he is. He holds the smaller boy still and starts slowly wiggling his tongue inside of him.
Steve’s sounds begin to die down, coming out in broken, ragged gasps. Bucky loves that about him; how his baby, if he could, would be so vocal – loud enough to awaken the Heavens themselves – during the slow burning build if he could get away with it. Yet every time he’s close to coming, he can’t seem to make much of a sound at all; like Bucky makes him feel so good that there are no sounds for it. He continues rubbing his tongue along Steve’s inner walls; releases muffled, soft moans whenever he feels those walls twitch around him. When he pulls back just an inch, pauses, and then pushes back in as deep as he can go, Steve’s whole face twists up as his body releases a violent shudder. He comes breathlessly, hot and spastic, all over Bucky’s chest.
Bucky keeps licking inside of him lovingly until he stops feeling the thin streaks paint over his skin. Steve’s making sensitive whimpering sounds. Bucky pulls his tongue out and takes a breath, wiping the back of his mouth again. Steve’s hole has no resistance left to it at all; Bucky reckons that if he tried, he could slide the entire length of his prick right into it and he’d be able to go balls deep without having to stop.
He can hear the faint rattle in Steve’s tiny chest as he struggles to catch his breath, so Bucky tells him he can move his arms. “Let’s switch,” he says soothingly. Steve nods, half out of it, and they switch back so Steve’s the one lying down. Steve’s release is running down his abdomen now, and normally he’d tell Steve to eat it, but his baby doll is still struggling to calm back down and Bucky – no matter what the game is – would never take that lightly. However, when he reaches to the floor to pick up a dirty shirt he can use to wipe it off, Steve catches his wrist and shakes his head weakly.
“Stevie, baby, you can hardly breathe,” Bucky says with concern.
Steve just waves him over and quietly murmurs between deep breaths, “Just hold me for a bit, please? I’ll be fine.”
Bucky lies down beside him and gathers the small boy up in his arms. His eyes flutter closed and he moans softly when Steve, eyes closed, snuggles up to Bucky and buries his face into his chest, catching his breath quietly while licking up the mess and suckling gingerly along different patches of his skin, as though he were a nursing babe. Bucky lets the minutes pass as he cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, petting him while Steve cleans him up adoringly and Bucky breathes out soft sounds of pleasure.
“Daddy…?” he hears Steve’s deep but small voice whisper against his skin once all his come has been licked up.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Bucky replies gently, now rubbing soft trails up and down the smooth skin of Steve’s back.
“Are you still mad at me? For earlier?”
Bucky blinks and then tucks his chin down so he can look at the top of his head of hair. “You mean about the blow job thing?”
Steve’s face burns and he buries it deeper against Bucky’s chest, as if trying to hug up to him after having a bad dream. He’s so fucking adorable, Bucky had hardly stand it. He feels his baby nod. He smiles warmly, releases a soft sigh and playing with the hair at the back of Steve’s neck. “No, baby,” he answers. “I could never stay mad at you; not when you’re so good to me. You make me so happy, you know that?”
Steve smiles happily and wraps his arm around Bucky’s middle. He returns the affectionate gesture and trails his fingers up and down the center of Bucky’s back, making the brunet’s skin break out into tiny goosebumps. Now breathing softly, Steve tilts his chin up and starts kissing and sucking up Bucky’s chest to his collar bones. He sucks a litter of beautiful, inflamed marks onto the skin, making Bucky groan.
“You still haven’t come yet, daddy,” Steve whispers, lips now working along Bucky’s neck. “I can feel you, still hard against me.”
“Steve…” Bucky breathes, and that’s 100% Bucky, he couldn’t help that one – not when Steve’s coming onto him like this and making Bucky feel unhinged.
“The only place your come should go is inside of me,” Steve says under his breath, kissing underneath Bucky’s jaw and then scraping his teeth against Bucky’s cleft. “Anywhere else is wasted.”
“You’re greedy, aren’t you, baby boy?” Bucky moans, arching his neck and clutching Steve to him in a tight grip.
“Daddy, I want your cock,” Steve breathes, knowing full well what he’s doing now; how easily he can reverse the roles and work Bucky up so he’ll give Steve exactly what he wants – what they both want. He grazes his opened mouth over Bucky’s but pulls back when the tip of Bucky’s tongue tries to touch his bottom lip. “I’ve been dyin’ without it inside me; you ain’t had no time for me in so long… Am I still yours?”
Bucky grips the side of his face and exhales possessively into his mouth, “You’re my sweet boy. Always, always, Stevie.” He crushes their lips together and kisses the blond heatedly; Steve whimpers into it and submissively lets his mouth tip open so Bucky can lick into it – taking over it; reminding Steve who’s boss.
“Daddy… please… oh, please…” he gasps between kisses, feeling the older boy slowly grinding his erection against Steve’s thigh; feels the wetness of Bucky’s pre-ejaculate smearing against his skin.
“I want to be inside you,” Bucky chokes out, squeezing Steve’s ass and grunting when he rocks his dick a bit harder against his baby’s leg.
“Oh yes, please, please…”
Bucky rolls them over and then with frantic movements, gets up and runs to retrieve the Vaseline and a condom. When he comes back into the cot, erection standing desperately and pointed in Steve’s direction, panic flashes over the blond’s features when he sees Bucky make to cover his dick with the condom. He actually lets out a hurt whine and snatches Bucky’s wrist to stop him.
“Daddy, no,” he whispers desperately. “Please don’t…”
Bucky’s brows furrow. They always use protection – he uses a rubber with everyone. He’s only too paranoid about potentially picking anything up that he could pass to Steve, what with the boy’s fragile immune system. “Stevie,” he says with confusion, about half Bucky talking and half in character.
“I want to feel you,” Steve whispers, “all of you.”
Bucky doesn’t know how he’s supposed to approach this without breaking character; he isn’t sure Steve realizes what he’s asking for.
“Baby, you know sometimes I…” he frowns, creating a wrinkle between his brows as he trails his gaze away, thinking quick. “Go to bed with mommy…” (‘Mommy’, in this case, Steve knows, means every dame in the city that Bucky fucks whenever he goes out dancing.) He reaches out one hand and rubs Steve’s thigh protectively. “I take care of you, keep you safe – that’s my job. Do you know how much it’d kill me if somethin’ bad happened to you, sweet boy? I love you best of ‘em all; isn’t that good enough?”
Steve just stares up at him and answers, entirely in his own tone, “…No.”
That’s all Steve talking, and it’s all Bucky’s heart breaking, because they’re not acting at the moment. Steve caught on to Bucky’s metaphor and his answer was everything that they choose never to talk about. Steve knows it isn’t Bucky’s fault that he acts the way he does, or that things have to be the way they have to be. That’s just the way the world works. It doesn’t mean he can’t wish he could be selfish sometimes, and it kills Bucky inside because he wants it to, so bad.
He’s never gone without a rubber before but… if he were going to do it with anyone, he’d want it to be with his baby boy, his Steve.
Looking down and then nodding, Bucky chucks the condom to the side and then opens the Vaseline and scoops out a bit. Steve bites his lip, breathing deeper again, as he watches Bucky slick up his cock and stare at him while he does it. Bucky clears his throat quietly and then asks, “You want this, baby?” But his voice, his face, his whole demeanour, even though he’s in character, is nothing but Bucky Barnes – doomed, pathetic fucker who always has and always will be hopelessly in love with his best friend, Steve Rogers.
Steve reaches out and takes Bucky’s wrist. He gives a gentle pull and Bucky climbs over top of him. As Bucky lines up his bare cock to Steve’s relaxed body, Steve runs his hand once through Bucky’s hair before cupping the side of his cheek with a gentle hand and shyly leaning in to plant a small kiss to his cheekbone.
“Thank you, daddy,” Steve whispers. “For all of it, I mean.”
Bucky gets a small, affectionate smile. “Yeah, I spoil you, don’t I?”
“Give me everythin’ I need,” Steve agrees.
“Yeah, yeah I do,” Bucky breathes, voice dropping again. He glances down and then tilts his hips forward, feeling the initial resistance of Steve’s muscles as he pushes his cockhead against them before they finally give and he slides in just as easily as he’d anticipated.
Steve’s eyes roll into his head at the fullness – the beautiful stretch of his merciful daddy finally taking pity on him and stuffing his needy body just right. He arches slowly, pushing his chest against Bucky’s, and he doesn’t even know if the difference really is that acute without the rubber – maybe it’s just because he knows it isn’t there this time – but Bucky’s flushed cock feels hot inside of his ass, warming him up. Without the condom, all he can feel is skin and hardness. Moaning long and quiet, Steve wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist and hooks his arms under his armpits, holding onto the brunet’s shoulders.
Steve is all heat and tight suction and Heaven wrapped around him, and Bucky realizes why it could get addicting – wanting to bareback it – because everything is so much more acute this way… And so much more intense, emotionally. He presses his mouth to Steve’s, hips now rolling back and forth, until it’s not so much kissing as it is just pressing their opened mouths together and panting; exchanging the odd moan and touching their tongues together when they can remember to.
“Stevie… Baby… You feel… oh my God,” he breathes, hissing air between clenched teeth when Steve clenches around him. “You feel so fuckin’ good…”
Steve whimpers out a moan, rolling his body and meeting Bucky’s thrusts; pushing his heels against the older boy’s tailbone so that his daddy can get even deeper purchase inside of him. “You have such a big cock,” Steve compliments breathlessly, struggling with the words. “Oh… Oh fuck, daddy, yeah, pound me into the bed… I need you, mmm, please,” he whines.
Bucky puts his focus into holding himself up by his forearms and fucking into Steve’s tight little hole, while the blond unhooks his own arms to reach above his head and hold onto the top of the thin mattress. Using it to anchor him, he shoves himself back down and more gracefully meets Bucky’s thrusts.
“My little baby, always virgin-tight…” Bucky moans breathlessly, now biting along Steve’s pale neck. The skin is slippery with sweat. Steve tastes delicious. “Better than any pretty girl’s cunt… It’s like I’m poppin’ your cherry for the first time every time you take my cock… Ah… Baby… I love you so much… So good for me…”
Steve whines high in his throat – softly but loud enough to push their luck. He does it because he knows how hard Bucky gets from it. Sure enough, he feels the prick keeping him stretched open twitching inside of him, making him groan and clench down harder.
“I just wanna be good for you,” he moans, breathy and youthful.
“God, Stevie, you’re always so fuckin’ good, so perfect,” Bucky groans, picking up his pace. “You deserve a reward for listenin’ so well, oh fuck, yeah, you’re so gorgeous… M’gonna fuck your sweet spot until you come again for me, sweetheart.”
Steve mewls softly but his brows crease and he shakes his head in protest. “I can’t…” he pants.
“Yes, you can.”
“No, daddy, I – I really can’t,” Steve gasps before throwing his head back and arching with a throaty whine when Bucky makes good on his word to thrust in at the perfect angle to stimulate his prostate ruthlessly.
Bucky realizes that that’s actually probably true. It’s already difficult enough sometimes for Steve to get it up; it’s damn near impossible for him to have the proper blood flow for him to be able to manage two stiffies in one night. Nodding, Bucky whispers, “Okay, that’s okay, sweetheart. You already shot your load for me once tonight, that’s real good; couldn’t ask for better,” he murmurs encouragingly as he gasps for air. Steve meets his eyes – Jesus fuck, he’s so goddamn flushed; Bucky wants to eat him alive – and Bucky gives him another understanding little nod.
Steve’s face is scrunched up in pleasure but he gazes up at Bucky adoringly and strokes his fingers back through his hair, now dried messily in a bunch of different directions. “I wanna feel you come,” Steve says. “I want you to mark me as yours…”
“You are mine, Stevie…”
Steve gasps. “I want you to fill me up, I wanna feel it,” he begs.
“Oh Christ, baby, m’gonna come,” Bucky whispers quickly under his breath, dropping the act. He grunts, biting his lip, and speeds up his hips, plowing in and out of Steve as he feels his balls draw up tight. Steve watches him in awe and pulls him down so Bucky’s forehead is pressed to his. He whispers quick encourages, praises – please, daddy, unhhh, you’re so good to me, daddy, fuck, please, oh, ohh, oh my god, that feels so good you’re so big, Buck… God… Buck… Bucky… Come for me, daddy, please… please… He twists his hips and he lets Bucky fuck him raw and he says all the right things until Bucky goes very still and squeezes his eyes shut, jaw dropping as he groans brokenly in his throat and starts trembling. Steve feels his insides become warmer; he knows it’s from Bucky painting the inner walls with his come. He’s never felt it before but there’s something so intimate about it that it almost makes Steve tear up.
Bucky finally finishes, letting his weight fall on Steve from exhaustion and burying his face into the pillow next to Steve’s head. Steve lets out a loud oof! and then starts shoving at Bucky’s shoulders, the act now having come to completion.
“Get off me, you asshole,” he grunts, chuckling.
Bucky gets a tired, breathless smile – eyelids half-mast – and merely pushes himself back up onto his forearms. “I wanna… maybe just stay like this for a minute or two, k?” he asks. He really had been paying mind to the things Steve had said to him that night. He needed to pay more attention to him and spend more time with him, and now was the perfect time to prove that. Getting a small smile, Steve rolls his eyes but wraps his arms around his lower back anyways.
Bucky’s smile lessens when he says with all seriousness, “You know, Steve, you ever feel like that again, I want you to tell me.”
Steve gives a half-hearted shrug, pretending it doesn’t phase him nearly as much as it clearly did. “It’s okay, Buck. I mean, I get it.”
“No, I mean it, pal. I don’t want my best guy feeling like he’s fallen by the wayside. You’re always my number one, got it? S’you and me ‘till the end of the line.”
They never say ‘I love you’ once play time is over, but they both know what the other means.
Steve echoes back, “’Till the end of the line. Now seriously, get off me – you weigh a ton.”
“Stop makin’ me self-conscious about my figure,” Bucky jokes, but he pulls back anyways, carefully sliding his softened cock out of Steve’s hole. He leans back and takes a look, groaning in surprise at the sight of Steve’s puffy and red opening twitching slightly as it starts leaking out his come. “Oh Jesus, Steve, I wish you could see how this looks,” he breathes. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”
Game now over, Steve covers his face with his hands to cover the bright shade of his face. He groans loudly and snaps for Bucky to quit it. Bucky just licks his lips and smirks when he gets an idea. Getting back down onto his belly, Steve leans up on his elbows with surprise when Bucky makes quick work of wrangling his legs back over Bucky’s shoulders.
“Bucky, the Hell are you--”
“Gonna clean you up, baby boy,” Bucky murmurs, arching an eyebrow and giving Steve that mischievous smirk that had gotten them into so much trouble over the years. Steve, though he knows he won’t be able to come again that night, still feels the twinge of interest in his softened dick.
“You’re gonna--?” he says with surprise.
“’Till you’re all cleaned up,” Bucky says coolly. “Fuck, I bet I’m gonna taste so good mixed with your delicious ass. Could fuckin’ eat you out ‘till the cows came home.”
“You’re disgustin’,” Steve reproaches, but he can’t tear his eyes away and Bucky knows he likes it.
Before leaning in and licking up the dripping climax around his ass, he glances back up and says, “Oh! I meant to ask – you didn’t really go purposely break that lamp, did you? ‘Cause I’m still gonna have to buy us a new one.”
Steve shakes his head. “No, it really was an accident.”
“What’d ya do?”
“Tripped while heading from the couch to the bathroom.”
Bucky laughs loudly and then forces it to quieten when he sees Steve’s flat look and stammers, “I’m sorry, sorry – ohhh, Steve, what would I ever do without you? You’re a riot.”
“Just shut up and lick my ass,” Steve groans, covering his face again and falling back into the cot, just wanting Bucky to stop talking and get a move on it. Bucky smirks.
“I love when you talk dirty to me,” he teases cheekily and then leans in.