Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started at the St. Patrick’s Day office party, which was also Bucky and Steve’s first-year anniversary. Granted, not many offices had a St. Patrick’s Day party, but not all offices had an enthusiastic Irish boss.  Bucky had been so intimidated by him the first time they met—six feet and two inches of sheer muscle and rules. It didn’t take long to realise that ‘Captain’ (the fond name given to him by his employees who likened his appreciation for doing things by the book to a ship’s captain) Steve Rogers was a man of discipline and hard work, and Bucky had been so afraid that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with his new boss’s expectations.

“Don’t worry about it,” his cubical-mate, Natasha, had reassured him. She possessed beautiful, rich red hair—but was not Irish. Her well-concealed accent hinted of something Russian. “He’s really strict about himself, but not too bad with others. Doesn’t hurt if you have a pretty face either,” she’d added with a wink.

She and Bucky had become friends very quickly, after they found their common interest of slacking off during the post-lunch lull by watching cat videos. Bucky was used to being the ‘gay best friend’ for a lot of his lady friends, but Natasha was his first gay best friend. She’d been dating someone named Wanda—who had her picture on every flat surface of Natasha’s desk—since the sun was born. Bucky hadn’t been in a relationship since college (where the entire school had been alerted to the scandal of an intern dating their boss—in retrospect, Bucky had a habit for dating older men of authority), and he’d ended that one when he got a job offer two states over. Bucky had always prided himself on his career above any other things, and he’d been the best student in his class, the hardest worker in the entire Drafting & Business floor of Fury Architecture. While Steve might not have expected that level of dedication in his employees, he certainly appreciated it in Bucky.

Which is why no one (and least of all Bucky) was very surprised when, after the first Saint Patty’s Day party when Bucky was so drunk he right-out told Steve how often he’d fantasised about being bent over one of those small, rickety office desks and fucked until the next work week, Steve and Bucky started showing up to work in the same car.

And it had been mostly bliss since then. They had the few odd arguments over Steve’s unfaltering need for routine and complete lack of spontaneity, but they always made up with blindingly-hot sex. Bucky had never had a boyfriend like Steve before, someone so completely selfless and attentive to his needs. Every part of his strange desire for a dominant and assertive man to take care of him was fulfilled in Steve. Sure, he’d had Dom-sub relationships before, but they had always either been too rough, or more into sadism than what Bucky was looking for, or too clingy.

After a year of figuring each other out, every secret, every backstory, Steve and Bucky were so in love and involved with each other that sometimes it seemed like they’d been married for fifty years. Steve certainly knew enough of Bucky’s stories, having already heard them at least twice. Every time Bucky would tell someone about that time he broke his arm in twelfth grade, or when he fell into an ice hole the winter of freshmen year, Steve could recount each detail like he’d been there.

Bucky would never say that he’d begun to get bored of their relationship. It would be so unfair. Steve was everything he ever wanted—hot, kind, funny, with just a touch of authoritative, and the sex was good, their relationship dynamic was perfect.

So why did he, when he was really being honest with himself, feel unsatisfied?

Steve gave him a little one-fingered wave from across the room, checking in. Although Bucky was more outgoing in small groups, quickly hogging the spotlight and telling an interesting story or a funny joke, large crowds and parties gave him anxiety. Steve was required to be there, as the head of their department, and he insisted that Bucky didn’t have to go with him, but Bucky had promised he’d be fine, and at the first sign of discomfort, he would give the signal that he was going home.

Although Bucky did feel a little overwhelmed, they’d been at the party for a grand twenty-three minutes, and Bucky didn’t want to hop out so early. Maybe that’s why he was feeling distance lately—because sometimes he wasn’t honest with Steve—or himself—with what he wanted. Maybe he didn’t know what he wanted.

Nat swooped in with a plate filled with various green and shamrock-shaped snacks. “You’re giving Steve you’re I’m-Fine-But-Secretly-Not-Fine-Please-Rescue-Me-Face.”

“Am not,” Bucky replied with a scowl, taking one of his own mangled pot-o’-gold cookies. Whoever said that Pinterest recipes were easy was wrong.

“You are,” Nat replied with a knowing smirk, following Bucky’s gaze over to where Steve was listening to Coulson—the department’s other over-achiever (and unfortunately for Phil, not the object of Steve’s affections)—propose a new scheme. “You only eat cookies when you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

Bucky scowled at the burnt ‘gold’ part of the cookie. At least the cauldron was already supposed to be black, so it wasn’t that obvious that they had burnt to a tasteless crisp.

“Well, go on. Don’t just sulk. What are you going to do about it?” Natasha gently goaded him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes and made a beeline for Steve. If he wasn’t going to signal that he wanted to leave, he might at least take Natasha’s advice and stop sulking about it. And maybe get Phil to stop talking Steve’s ear off—not that Bucky was jealous. But he was feeling a little bit more vulnerable and clingy than normal.

On his expedition across the room of happily drunk, green-clad co-workers, Bucky passed by the snacks table and grabbed a plate full of happy green shamrock cookies and mint Oreo’s that looked much more appealing than his pots o’… charcoal. He slid in between Steve and Phil, holding up the tray a little.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Phil was just telling me about his plans for the new wing on the high school,” Steve greeted him with a smile that made all his frustrations melt away.

“Oreo?” he offered.

Steve frowned down at the plate of festive treats like Bucky was offering him a dead animal. “No, thank you.” In a quieter voice, he added “my diet.”

Ah yes. The legendary regimen which kept Steve’s abs sharper than the apex of the building Bucky had drafted last week. Although Bucky certainly respected Steve’s need to plot out exactly what he would eat for the next month and work out dutifully every other day, he sometimes wished that Steve could just relax sometimes. It seemed like something silly to get upset over, but it was almost frustrated how completely Steve clung onto his diet.

Bucky shrugged. He was irritable over several things, and he didn’t want to get fussy over insignificant things, especially on a night as important as their first year anniversary. Feeling a little guilty, he observed what else was on the snack table, looking for a sort of peace offering. Maybe they had some… green celery, or something.

Then Bucky spotted macaroons. (Green ones, of course.) Steve had mentioned many, many times his love for macaroons, despite the fact that Bucky had never seen him consume a single macaroon. Bucky happily loaded his plate with an entire stack, and went back over to Steve.

“They have macaroons.”

Steve’s eyes lit up with a happy sort of mischief Bucky had never seen in his eyes before. He seemed fifteen years younger, like some kid whose dad just told him they were getting a puppy against his mother’s wishes. As suddenly as Bucky saw that side of him, it was quickly shut down. “Maybe later.”

For crying out loud, Steve, live for a minute, Bucky wanted to say, but it wasn’t his place. Steve was driven by this for his own reasons, and Bucky wasn’t going to force him out of it. “Alrighty,” he shrugged, popping one in his own mouth. Suddenly, the room felt too hot, too stuffy. “I’m going to get some air,” he whispered to Steve, handing him the plate. Steve nodded, deep in conversation with T’Challa, from the department one floor up.

Bucky went into the bathroom and opened the window, sneaking out onto the ledge. They were on the fourth floor of a moderate-sized building in D.C., but Bucky had never been afraid of heights. He pulled out a joint, thinking of how Steve would chastise him if he knew he forgot to bring his Marijuana Card. Bucky often wondered why it was that Steve was so obsessed with rules, but again, Bucky was happy to be a passenger in Steve’s life. He didn’t need to make a home inside Steve. Truth be told, Bucky was used to living in someone else’s house without even unpacking his suitcases. It wasn’t that he was the type of person to leave if a relationship got tough; he was just used to never really getting comfortable.

He and Steve hadn’t really talked about things long term, and the one-year mark kind of snuck up on both of them. Bucky didn’t regret one moment of it, though.

He finished his joint, and with a much clearer head and a calmer mind, decided to sneak back into the party, maybe take the plate back from Steve and finish the macaroons to satisfy his munchies.

Except, when he worked his way through the crowd to the spot where Steve was, there were no signs of the macaroons.

Natasha snuck up behind Bucky and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. I thought you left.”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, just popped out for a smoke. I came back in for a snack, but I guess Steve threw the macaroons out.”

Natasha pulled him in close, with a wicked grin, like she was about to share a deep secret. “He ate them.”

Bucky didn’t quite know what to make of her claim. There had been maybe a dozen macaroons on the plate. It wasn’t impossible to think that Steve had eaten all of the macaroons, but very unlikely, because it was, well… Steve. “Are you sure?”

Natasha nodded. “Yeah. I guess he might finally start working on that happy relationship weight. Catch up to you a little bit,” she added with a gentle pat to Bucky’s small paunch.

“I…” he began.

“Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Putting on a couple is natural.” Bucky blushed. To be honest, he hadn’t noticed himself. So he supposed it wasn’t really that much. Before he could respond (or at least try to verbally process) all the information Nat had given him, she gave him a quick hug. “I’m headed home. Have a fun night!”

Bucky turned back to where Steve had been standing a moment before, but discovered that he had moved to the other side of the room, right next to the food table, and was happily munching on a scone while chatting with Scott.

A scone.

Don’t make a big deal out of it, don’t make a big deal out of it… Bucky repeated to himself as he joined Steve’s side again. But it kind of was a big deal, to watch Steve just eat for the pleasure of the taste of food, rather than the function of nutrition.

“Hey,” he said quietly, not wanting to disrupt the raw beauty of Steve enjoying himself for once.

Steve almost looked embarrassed for a second, and Bucky never, ever wanted to see him look embarrassed for enjoying himself. He handed the blond a beer from the keg near his knees. Steve read the label. “’Of Foam and Fury’.” He laughed and took a sip. Bucky had seen him drink beer twice before. Maybe. “Not bad. Guess my family back home know what they’re doing.”

Bucky chuckled. “I’ll stick to Guinness, thanks.”

The night was quickly becoming interesting enough for Bucky to want to stay a little bit longer. Steve had two more beers, getting pleasantly buzzed just enough to let go of the last shred of self-control he had, and nibbled on various macaroons and other calorie-laden treats for the rest of the night.

It put Bucky in the strange position of actually not drinking at a party, to make sure that he was sober enough to drive home. By the time Steve was ready to leave, an adventure-filled two and a half hours later, Bucky’s high had worn off enough for him to safely drive AND for him to be anxious enough about a variety of things, the main one being that he kept going to the bathroom every ten minutes to try and see the weight Nat had been talking about. Was his butt bigger? His butt was definitely bigger. No, it was just the light colour of the pants. He swore never to wear beige pants again. Just black from now on, especially if he was gaining weight. Were his love handles bigger than before? They certainly seemed chunkier. Maybe it was just the lighting.

Steve giggled at something funny that Sam had said the whole way down from their floor and into the car. Bucky carefully helped him in, half wondering if he’d hit his head trying to crawl out the window of the bathroom and this was all a dream. Bucky got into the driver’s side and turned the ignition. Steve’s hysterical laughter had given way to silence, as he cradled his torso and grimaced.

“You alright?” Bucky asked, legitimately concerned. Steve had probably never had this much sugar in his entire life. Or beer. His system probably wasn’t used to it all.

“Fine. M’stomach hurts,” Steve complained. “Ate too much.”

For some reason, a hot flash of arousal zipped right down to the lowest part of Bucky’s belly, and his cock immediately showed its interest in the matter.

Now why the fuck would that turn me on? Bucky wondered.

The night had already been one series of inexplicable surprises after another, and Bucky decided not to question it in favour of getting Steve safely home to their apartment, helping him get changed, and going to sleep. Although, it was quite a challenge, considering Steve’s poor stomach gurgled nearly constantly.

Chapter Text

Steve had woken up at 5 a.m. every morning since he was seventeen. He didn’t even need an alarm any longer, but it was futile to try to sleep in. No matter what time he went to sleep, his eyes open at 5 nearly on the dot every time.

So when, for the first time in at least fifteen years, Steve opened his eyes to see “6:27” blinking back at him, he nearly thought he was dreaming.

He could feel by the way Bucky’s arm was slung over his shoulder that his lover was still in bed, and most likely asleep because of his breathing pattern. There was an alarm set on the clock for 6:45, when Bucky really needed to get up for work, but by that point Steve usually already had his morning five mile run and shower.

Steve knew that he must have been a beast to take care of last night (he was always annoying when he was drunk, and doubtlessly Bucky would have cared for him without a second thought, one of Steve’s most favourite things about him), so he decided to make Bucky a big breakfast in gratitude. He shut off the alarm before it could go off. It was Saturday, anyway, so Bucky must have forgotten to take it off.

By the time Steve got to the kitchen, he was feeling horribly guilty about the night before. He always ate so much food whenever he was drunk, and judging by the painful cramps in his gut, last night was no exception. He usually stayed away from beer because he was such a lightweight, and the drunker he was, the weaker his inhibitions, and he would return to old habits, years of dedication and discipline gone in a moment. But since he apparently never half-assed anything, he added chocolate chips to the pancakes.

*Not like it would matter. Apparently, if he was making a pig of himself, he might as well eat with purpose. After this mood of regrettably destructive behaviour passed and he was feeling more like himself, he would work out twice as hard and cut his diet back a few notches—both to punish himself and get his system back to normal.

He’d never made pancakes before in his life, and had only eaten them a few times, when his ma would make them for his birthday when he was younger. He wasn’t quite sure how they would turn out, but he was almost as good at following directions as giving them, and the orange text on the box that proudly proclaimed 3 EASY STEPS seemed simple enough.

Steve felt two arms hug him from behind, putting the slightest bit of pressure on his stomach, and it felt nicer than he’d care to admit.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, spinning around and kissing Bucky.

Bucky smiled into the kiss. “No hangover?” he asked as they pulled away.

“Nah. Bit of a headache, nothing serious. I’m making pancakes,” he said in an attempt to change the conversation. *He’d like to pretend that all of last night never happened. Well, if it wasn’t for the voice in his head hissing that he’d probably eaten enough calories for a whole day, racking up numbers like it always did, a brutal four-digit death sentence.

“I see!” Bucky exclaimed, shocked and a little pleased. They almost never ate breakfast together. “Want me to make bacon?”

Steve wasn’t a vegetarian, but he would never dream of going near something as fatty and greasy as bacon. *Still, the cruel voice whispered that since he was being such a slob, adding more calories to the pile hardly mattered. “Sure, why not. I’ll make scrambled eggs, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had finished, and were sitting at their counter on the kitchenette. Steve had five pancakes the size of his plate, four eggs, and six slices of bacon, with two tall glasses of milk. If Bucky was surprised by the sheer amount of food Steve was downing, he didn’t show it.

Steve reminded himself that it was still a hearty breakfast, and, if nothing else, it should give him enough energy to kill a sweet set of reps later at the gym.

After breakfast, he was about to announce his intent to head out, when Bucky gently pushed him on the couch. “You cooked, I’ll clean. Here’s the remote, find something for us to watch.”

Falling into a reclining position made the contents of Steve’s stomach shift uncomfortably. He miserably picked up the remote and began flipping through channels, listening to the sound of Bucky whistling behind him. At that point in the morning, it seemed that nothing but the food network was on. Ugh, like he needed more food. He could swear his stomach felt swollen with everything he ate.

*1580 calories, give or take a hundred, his mind helpfully added.

*He wanted to throw up. Maybe that would help. But Bucky was in the apartment, and he didn’t want to worry him. He suddenly wished that he could have said earlier that he did have a hangover, so he could have an excuse for vomiting.

About fifteen minutes later, when Steve was halfway through some odd chef competition show, Bucky joined him with a bowl of popcorn to snack on. Somehow, it ended up on Steve’s lap, and by the end of the episode, it was empty.

Bucky was paying so much attention to the show that Steve could tell he wasn’t watching at all. When they first started dating, it was almost impossible for Steve to pick up on Bucky’s signals, but once he began understanding them, they were impossible to miss. First of all, it was a commercial for a vacuum cleaner, and the apartment complex they lived at had a maid clean the rooms on Mondays. Secondly, Bucky’s erection was nearly perpendicular to the brunet’s body, sprawled out comfortably on the couch.

Steve chuckled. “Now, baby?” he asked in a tone of incredulity. He didn’t know what managed to turn Bucky on in between waking up, washing the dishes, and now, but he’d missed sex last night, and he intended to take care of his lover for a nice anniversary present.

Bucky snapped his focus away from the television and to Steve as soon as he spoke, and the blond could see him practically squirming in the couch. He whimpered in response.

“Use your words,” Steve reminded him, leaning forward (putting uncomfortable pressure on his midsection, but that was beside the point) and placing his large hand on Bucky’s neck in a subtle sign of control.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back and he tilted his head in submission. “Yes, Steve, please, now. I’ve—“

He was about to go on, but Steve had gotten what he wanted. He pulled Bucky forward into him, crashing their lips together. Whenever they played this game, whenever Steve turned his dominance on like a tap, he could feel that there was some part of Bucky that was being held back, but he wanted it to come out organically. They had certainly talked out every single other aspect of their relationship and how their dynamic was to work in public versus in private that Steve wanted Bucky just say it when he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Gonna fuck me?” Bucky asked, pulling back and biting his lip, sitting on Steve’s lap.

“Know how fucking pretty you look like that?” Steve growled, running his thumb over Bucky’s nipple.

“Don’t change the subject,” Bucky panted, his pupils so large his grey-blue eyes looked midnight with lust.

Steve flipped Bucky over roughly, and pinned him down with a hand at his throat. “I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do. What do you say?”

Bucky shuddered in response and choked out an apology.

It was amazing how this never failed to turn Bucky on. Not that it didn’t turn Steve on… he was happy to play this part if it was what Bucky wanted. He remembered when this sweet, unassuming architect had stolen his heart the first time, how vulnerable his eyes looked when he confessed what he needed Steve to be. Steve accepted this responsibility as carefully as he could. He didn’t want to let Bucky down, almost as much as Bucky didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Louder,” he said, more softly this time.

“Sorry,” Bucky repeated in a hushed whisper.

Steve knelt down over him, and kissed his cheek, always aware of how much power he had, how much power Bucky wanted him to have. He slowly pulled the brunet’s briefs down, marvelling at the perfect curve of his lover’s ass. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, d… yes.”

Please, Bucky, please. Just say it. Steve was almost sure what he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to assume anything. It always needed to be said, with the two of them.

Steve had the condom on and prepped Bucky in record time, needing to feel that intimacy of being inside of him. It was the only time when he felt he knew exactly what the other was thinking, and was sure Bucky’s thoughts matched his own.

 He slid his cock inside Bucky and felt the brunet’s hips snap as he cried out in pleasure.

“More, keep going,” Bucky begged. Usually Steve didn’t go the whole way in in one movement, but he continued on until he was buried to the hilt. The feeling of giving Bucky exactly what he wanted was ecstatic.

Bucky had been lying mostly flat on the couch, but he lifted his ass into the air, and Steve sat up on his knees and braced his arms on Bucky’s hips. Bucky set the rhythm, arching his back and sending a rippling motion through his ass cheeks that made Steve’s precome betray his usually impressive habit of taking his time. But Bucky was so needy this morning, biting his own forearm to muffle the sound as he fucked himself back on Steve’s dick. His pace became frantic as he neared orgasm, and Steve took over. “Shh, it’s okay, Bucky,” he whispered into his ear, holding his hips and moving his member in and out of Bucky’s tight little hole. He was still full from the enormous breakfast (and accidental snack) that he’d consumed, so his range of motion was limited, but Bucky came soon after he took control.

After Bucky climaxed, he took a moment to catch his breath as Steve pulled out, then flipped over. “You didn’t come,” he remarked.

Steve sat back, stretching his legs out, still hard as a rock. “So take care of it.”

Bucky happily occupied himself with blowing Steve, while the blond relaxed and allowed his stomach to settle.

After he came, Bucky swallowing his entire load like a champ, he curled up right around him like a sated cat, resting his hand right above Steve’s belly button.

Chapter Text

The following night, Bucky had a surprise for Steve. He had noted dutifully that Steve hadn’t gone for a run early Sunday morning either, and that he ate his meals without even a shred of the self-control or self-consciousness he usually had. Bucky had no idea what had brought about this change so suddenly, but he was enjoying it almost as much as his dick was. Which, yeah, okay, after about a day and a half, it wasn’t just coincidence that every time Steve had an extra helping more than what Bucky was used to seeing, he’d get a prominent boner. So, in the name of science, Bucky was taking Steve out to an all-you-can-eat for an anniversary present.

It had been an unspoken agreement between the two of them to not get each other presents. They’d never really put a name on their relationship like “boyfriends” or anything like that. The most “us” they’d ever talked about was discussing the type of Dom-sub play they wanted to go on, but everything else (moving in together, meeting the parents, wearing each other’s clothes) seemed to happen without much direct verbal communication. It wasn’t that Bucky was opposed to calling him his boyfriend and kissing him on the cheek on the 17^th of every month and grinning about it being their x month anniversary, but Steve didn’t seem like the type of person to welcome that. So Bucky hoped that he wasn’t crossing a line by taking Steve out to dinner for their one-year anniversary celebration, but maybe being two days late would throw him off a little.

“Hey, no peeking!” Bucky reminded Steve as he saw him parting a few of his fingers to try and figure out where they were going.

“I know, I know,” Steve responded, moving his fingers back like they were there all along.

Bucky smirked. A week ago he never would have considered bringing Steve to a buffet, but over the last two days he’d shown such a love for food that it encouraged Bucky to add to his enjoyment.

They reached the place he had in mind, and he parked the car before crossing over to Steve’s side and opening the door. “You can look now.”

Steve’s face immediately brightened up when he saw Chinese All-You-Can-Eat Buffet painted on the door. “Bucky, you shouldn’t have. I thought we weren’t giving each other gifts.”

“I know, I just really wanted to.”

Steve smirked. “It’s a good thing I didn’t listen either.” He reached behind his seat and pulled out an impeccably-wrapped box, handing it to Bucky.

Bucky beamed and gave Steve a hug. “I’m going to open it after dessert,” he said, wanting to save the anticipation as long as possible.

They went in and got a table, then went up for the buffet and found themselves at different parts of the room. Bucky decided to start with a sesame chicken salad, and when he got back, Steve already had two plates absolutely packed with desserts; jello, fried doughnuts, cherry tart, and a variety of cookies. Bucky was trying not to stare as he sat down and began eating, but Steve caught him gawking anyway.

“You can have dessert last so you can save your present for then, but I’m going to work my way backward,” he explained. “’Life is short, have dessert first’.”

Bucky thought to himself that the real present was watching Steve start with two plates of dessert. He’d never seen him eat more than two plates’ worth of food before this weekend. Also, since when was Steve hedonistic enough to quote Jacques Torres? Bucky reminded himself to try calling Steve “Mr. Chocolate” in bed later on.

Bucky had been eyeing Steve’s ass on the way into the restaurant, and in doing so, noticed that he was wearing a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans. Halfway through his third plate, they seemed to be giving the blond some trouble. He was squirming uncomfortably, and only his right hand was visible above the table. Then, relief washed over his face, and his left hand returned to cut some fried banana.

Holy shit, did he just undo his pants button?

Suddenly, that question was everything that took up Bucky’s mind. “I have to go the bathroom, be right back,” he announced, folding his napkin.

Steve nodded in response, mouth full of white rice.

Bucky carefully studied Steve’s crotch as he walked past (thank goodness the bathroom was beyond him), and holy fuck, yes, his button was undone, the hard surface of his belly curving just slightly outward.

The half-erection Bucky had been sporting in the booth grew into a full-on boner, and he surreptitiously adjusted it to the side via pocket. It was too persistent to be ignored, however, and he was glad he was already heading off to the bathroom.

He honestly didn’t intend to jack off in the stall of the public bathroom inside a Chinese all-you-can-eat-buffet, but life is funny like that sometimes, and there he was, muffling his groans by biting down on his left hand and twisting his fingers round his head as he pictured Steve’s distention becoming a true belly with actual flesh and fat, or a beer gut, round and heavy, the way his ass would fill out, his thighs spreading out more when he sat down, the double chin that would begin to form, how round and puffy his pecs would look.

He came so hard he forgot where he was for a moment, and allowed himself one quiet groan before cleaning himself up and exiting the stall. Fortunately, the bathroom was empty, and he washed his hands and walked back to their table like nothing ever happened.

Steve had already progressed to his fifth plate, while Bucky was still on his second. “Slow down, s’not a competition,” Bucky remarked before he could stop himself. He realised that that was the first time either of them had acknowledged Steve’s new eating habits aloud.

Steve paused for a moment, expression unreadable, and Bucky wanted to slap himself, but then he grinned easily. “Is that a challenge, Barnes?”

Any other night, Bucky would have taken his provocation and eaten the wasp-waisted blond under the table, but in sight of the last weekend (and the probability that Steve was slowly stretching out his stomach’s capacity to hold more food), he conceded. “Nah. My Ma taught me to only pick the battles I can win.”

Steve returned his attention to the battle on the table in front of him. “That’s a quality I never really learned.”

“I got that,” Bucky retorted, gesturing with his fork. Shut up, shut up, he yelled at himself. Before, his general attitude about Steve eating twice his weight in junk food was ‘ignore it, maybe it won’t go away’, but now that Steve knew that he was noticing it, what would happen?

“So,” Steve began, clearing his throat in an obvious change of subject, thank god. “Nick Fury wants me to go to New Mexico to check out a building we’re designing for Tony Stark.” He said it as a simple statement, and not like the highest level of authority in their company just offered him a chance to actually see one of their buildings, and not just draft them, for one of the richest billionaires in America, no less.

“Oh my god!” Bucky nearly chocked on his oolong tea. “That’s amazing! You said yes, right?”

“Well, I wanted to check in with you,” Steve added sheepishly. Was he blushing? He was blushing. Why was he blushing?

He wanted to make he had my permission, Bucky realised. How… surprisingly, adorable.

“You’d better! That is so… wow. You actually get to touch one of your works!”

Steve grinned, finally taking a small piece of the credit. “I know. I’m so excited.”

“How long?”

“Three weeks.”

“When?”

“This Friday, the 24^th. So, you’re fine with it? I mean, I can tell Fury I’ll go?”

They hadn’t been apart for more than a day since the moment they first started dating, but Bucky knew that this didn’t happen every day. Steve was gonna build something for Tony Goddamn Stark, after all. “Of course!”

They chatted about other details of the trip, and after his sixth plate of food, Steve finally seemed to be done. Bucky ate his small dessert, and grabbed the small box from earlier. Steve was smiling, obviously quite pleased with himself, as Bucky pulled the ribbon from its intricate bow. He lifted the lid, and inside the box, on a small cushion, was a pair of silver cufflinks. The decoration was a circular red shield, with a smaller blue circle, and a white star in the middle. Bucky didn’t know why, but when he looked at them, his heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t know if you’ll ever get a chance to wear ‘em, but I saw them, and I don’t know. I just felt that you should you have them,” Steve explained shyly.

“Steve, they’re beautiful.” Bucky was trying to make himself not cry over cufflinks, but it was the first real sentimental gift Steve had given him.

Bucky stood up to hug Steve, and didn’t miss Steve quickly zip himself back up before he stood to return the embrace.

--

  Everything of Steve’s (that he need for the trip) was neatly packed into two suitcases. On Thursday, Steve had gone shopping ‘for some New Mexico weather clothes’, but Bucky knew just as well Steve did that if he kept eating the way he was, he would need some new clothes, D.C. or otherwise. His plane was leaving in eight minutes, and it was just starting to hit Bucky how much he would actually miss him. He promised himself he wouldn’t make a scene and come off super clingy, but here he was, making Steve swear to Skype every day.

“Noon, on the dot. It’ll be 2 pm here. You better pick up, or I’ll think one of the tumbleweeds got you,” Bucky repeated.

Steve laughed and kissed Bucky on the cheek. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“What if a building falls on you?!”

“Then I’m not a very good architect.”

“Steeeeeeeeve!”

Steve laughed, and gave Bucky a good, proper kiss. The last kiss we’ll have for three weeks, Bucky reminded himself.

“I’ll miss you,” Steve said, no more laughter in his eyes.

“I l--,” Bucky started. “I’ll miss you too.”

Bucky woke up Saturday morning and rolled over. His second favourite thing about Steve’s new diet was how they both got up at the same time. But the bed was empty beside him. For a moment his heart sank and he thought Steve might be out running again, but then he remembered he would be in New Mexico by now. He wasn’t sure what it meant that he was more relieved that Steve was almost two thousand miles away than if he had been trying to get in shape again.

He couldn’t lie; a small part of him was enthusiastic with the thought that Steve might come back with a little bit more of himself than when he left. Well, not a small part. A part that was growing in a relationship directly related with Steve’s growth. It was one thing to see him every moment of every day, packing himself larger lunches to eat in his cubicle, going to the gym less, laying out on the couch and snacking all the time, but it would be another thing entirely to miss out on almost a month of his life. Bucky already had a countdown until April 14^th.

The morning went by far too slow. Even though he slept in a little, so he would only have to wait five hours until their Skype, it felt like five days. Then the last few minutes snuck by Bucky so suddenly that he glanced over at the clock and realised it read 1:58. He grabbed his phone so quickly that if he were in a cartoon, the cushions of the sofa would have jumped into the air. He pressed the “call” button.

Steve picked up on the second ring, something in his mouth.

“Hiya!” Bucky exclaimed, his voice high and excited.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve replied happily, swallowing and taking another bite of his sub.

They shared lunch together, and Steve filled Bucky in on every detail about his hotel and his roommate. The half hour went by all too quickly, and before Bucky knew it, he was telling him to be safe, and he better be there again tomorrow, or else.

His heart ached and he missed the weight of Steve on the couch next to him, or the obnoxious way he chewed chips with his mouth open while he was so absorbed in a tv show he forgot his manners. Every part of Bucky felt that Steve should be there, and it was only the first day.

Chapter Text

Steve imagined that New Mexico would be busy, getting swept off to his hotel and barely a moment to rest before he was taken out to the site where the foundations of the building were being put in, and then off to some meeting with Fury, Stark, and a few other big guys of the company to discuss plans. What he didn’t expect was that it was the fourth day in, and he hadn’t left his hotel yet. A pleasant man in glasses with dark curly hair introduced himself as Dr. Banner, the physicist for the building. They were sharing a room together. So far, Bruce (as he insisted Steve call him) had shown him the preliminary report for the building, and had shown him how much artistic freedom he had for the project. There was a small office in the corner of the hotel room, and Bruce had supplied it with everything Steve could ever need. Bruce left early in the morning, and returned just after dark. The two spoke briefly, and Bruce had mentioned that the first meeting with Stark, Fury, and the others wouldn’t be until the next week at least.

Which left him with far too much time to enjoy the attractions of Albuquerque. Which, these days, meant the culinary attractions of Albuquerque. Fury Architecture had spared no expense on his business trip, so what better way to spend his free time than to try every restaurant in a five-mile radius?

Which is why he found himself at some hipster craft brewery bar on a Tuesday night, alone, and sort of wishing he was back in his hotel, eating a bottomless bucket of fries and watching tv, or skyping with Bucky.

He finished his beer, and was about to leave, when a very large, Scandanavian-looking blond man sat in the bar stool next to him. “I’ll have another mai tai, and whatever this fellow would like as well.” He said to the bartender, giving Steve a smile.

“Uh… white Russian. Thanks.”

“I’m Thor Odinson,” the man introduced himself. Steve hoped to God he wasn’t being hit on—he wasn’t sure how well he could handle that. In the presence of shyer, younger (or simply more submissive) men, Steve could easily take the upper hand and fill a room with his personality. But Thor was large, and everything about him was loud, screaming out his presence and taking up every inch of available space in amiable masculinity.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve replied, shaking Thor’s hand, not sure how to go on.

“I think I saw you yesterday morning at breakfast—were you at Aunt May’s Bed & Breakfast?”

The name did sound familiar. “I think so, yes. I had the cheesecake blueberry pancakes.” Was Thor going somewhere with this?

“And we might have ran into each other last night for dinner, at Barton’s Steakhouse.”

Was he a stalker? “Yeah, I had some really good fajitas.”

“Aha!” Thor’s eyes lit up. “Forgive me, I must seem terribly intrusive. You see, I came here to Albuquerque because of the food. I have a food blog, and several of the restaurants I wanted to review are here. I noticed you at Aunt May’s because I was going to order the cheesecake blueberry pancakes, and I wanted to see how you liked them. Seeing you again at Barton’s and now here was pure coincidence. I was thinking you might be a fellow foodie—and if so, perhaps, since I am here all alone and don’t have the advantage of knowing anyone in New Mexico, we could line up our food schedules and try out restaurants together?”

The bartender returned with their drinks. Steve was thinking that he would need that white Russian to handle this blond Norwegian. “I, uh, appreciate the offer, but I’m not…”

Thor cut him off with a hearty laugh. “I do believe I’ve come off a bit too strong. I’m not looking to pick you up—although, that is not to say I wouldn’t—“ he added with an outrageous wink “—but you needn’t worry about that. I am happily married to my husband, Loki, of four years. My interest is purely of the eatable nature.”

Steve grinned. “In that case, why not?”

Thor clapped him on the back. “Excellent! Let’s trade phone numbers. There’s a delicious pastry shop on the corner I was going to try for dessert. I’d be honoured if you would join me.”

Steve’s Uber dropped him off at the front of the hotel, and he took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, mentally chastising himself for not taking the stairs. He was in so much pain that he couldn’t stand up straight. He was glad no one else was around to see him clutch his belly with one arm and the rail inside the elevator with the other. He made his way to his room, and flopped down on his bed with a groan.

Thor had happily proclaimed that if they couldn’t decide on one dessert, they could order both respectively, and take a taste of each other’s. But since Thor wanted to maximize opportunities to try out every place on his list, he wasn’t planning on returning, and they had ordered six desserts that they had split (more-or-less evenly) between them.

Why do I do this to myself? Steve wondered, discovering that he couldn’t draw a full breath. He fell asleep soon after that.

Steve woke up to the soft sound of a ‘ding’ on his phone, and opened his eyes to check the time. The digital clock beside his bed read 1:17.

He swore, sitting bolt upright, and turned on his phone. 58 unread texts from Bucky, 3 voicemails from Bucky, 17 unopened snaps from Bucky, … Steve wasn’t brave enough to read the rest.

He called Bucky right away, and he picked up immediately. His eyes were red.

“Baby, I’m so sorry, I slept in, I got in really late last night and I didn’t even think. I should have set an alarm. It was really selfish of me, I’m really sorry,” Steve apologised, at the same time Bucky spoke.

“I was so worried, I’m so glad you’re okay. Are you okay? You look okay. I mean, you look great, of course. I really miss you. I didn’t know what to think when you didn’t pick up. I shouldn’t have freaked out, it’s—“

They both took a breath at the same time, and laughed with relief.

“I’m really sorry,” Steve started again.

“Nah.” Bucky shook his head. “I trust you. I was just letting my imagination run away with me.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, despite the fact that it was later than Bucky’s usual lunch break and he should really get back to work.

When he finally did, Steve ended the call, and deleted all the spam notifications with a smirk on his face. Buried about fifteen messages deep was a message from Thor dated 9 a.m.

Hey breakfast buddy J was wondering if u wanted to join me at ur hotel for breakfast. They have great waffles! Reply at ur convenience. –Thor

The first thought on Steve’s mind was that he couldn’t even imagine eating after all the food he’d had last night, but it surprised him to discover that he was hungry. He had been up for about a half hour, chatting with Bucky, and his stomach gave a petulant growl. He was eating so much, all the time, and still his belly wanted more.

He texted Thor back.

Sorry I missed breakfast! I slept in. Too late for an afternoon snack?

A moment later, his phone buzzed.

No problem—I know how you feel, after all that food last night! It’s never too late for tea time!

Thor texted him an address, and a moment later, Steve was on his way.

Chapter Text

The following Thursday night marked thirteen days away from Steve. Bucky was missing him in several different ways; he felt jumpy and anxious all the time, he had way too much free time, and he felt lonely and miserable. He wanted to call Nat to see if she wanted to hang out, but he didn’t want to seem needy. He hated himself every time he started getting emotional over their daily Skype call. He kept telling himself that he was already past the halfway mark, and Steve would be home soon. He was clearly having a great time, and Bucky was so happy for him, and he didn’t want to dampen his fun with a sulky attitude.

But also? Bucky was really horny.

It had been a while since he’d had some real me time, and Nat was always talking about the value of treating yourself, and just having a nice spa day alone, or buying a new vibrator. Bucky hadn’t used a vibrator in over six months. One of his favourite things about his relationship with Steve was their libidos were very similar. There was a very rare occasion when one would be in the mood and the other wasn’t interested. It was safe to say that Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly masturbated.

Not that the bathroom stall at the buffet had counted, he reminded himself. Sure, he’d jerked off a few times, but he couldn’t recall the last time he really got out the toys, put his favourite playlist on, and sat down for a good while to discover his body.

Which lead him to sitting on his bed, holding his phone with his left hand and dick with his right, pumping, and trying to convince his cock to show some interest in the picture displayed on his screen. It’s not that he wasn’t turned on; all day at work he’d been wiggling in his chair, dying to open an incognito tab and search up some porn, but now that he’s home and comfortable, it just isn’t clicking.

            Bucky can’t pinpoint the last time that masturbating should have been normal, but he knows that there was a time when the picture he’s looking at—a lean, muscled man showing the underside of his erection off to the camera—would have been enough. At first he was frustrated at himself, but now, he was just desperate for an orgasm. He bit his lip, a few taps away from being both confused and satisfied, and searched up “chubby kink” in the search bar. He tapped on the first result, a well-built blond man who looked vaguely like Steve, except he had brown eyes and a thick beard… and about forty pounds on Bucky’s lover. He pressed play, and watched the larger man jiggle his stomach slightly, slap it once, and then begin to drink an entire gallon of chocolate milk, not caring when small drops escaped his mouth, clinging to his beard and running down the round curve of his gut.

Bucky shut his eyes, twisting his hand harder around his member, listening to the loud sounds of the man swallowing, and pictured Steve’s face on the man. The man’s gut on Steve. How Steve’s face was undeniably looking a little softer these days, and wondering if he would come home with a waist that was a little softer, too.

He came with a cry, his elusive orgasm finally within the grasp of his right hand, and worth every moment of waiting.

Bucky knew that he couldn’t deny it anymore. Whatever this was, whatever this meant—and he still wasn’t quite sure yet—he was into big guys. Fortunately for him, Steve was quickly falling under that category. But he was panicking. So naturally, he called Nat.

She picked up nearly immediately. “What is it this time?” she said patiently, and Bucky realised that there were only two days that he hadn’t called her since Steve had left for New Mexico.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” Bucky hissed. He’d grown up in a place where his sexuality was repressed, and anything other than vanilla hetero sex was even more taboo. It had taken him a long time to finally admit to himself that he was gay, even when he was surrounded by supportive non-straights in high school and college.

“Keep going,” Nat said patiently, and although Bucky knew she would never judge him, he still felt afraid of his newfound secret. Maybe if Nat could know and accept it… then maybe Steve could too.

“IthinkI’mintobigguys,” Bucky said in all one breath, and it was all he could do not to hang up with embarrassment just then.

Nat let out a hearty laugh, and Bucky wanted to kill himself, but then she spoke again. “Is that it? C’mon Buck, I’ve known this for a while.”

“But I just figured it out myself.”

“Listen, sweetheart, it’s no secret that you like guys that are bigger than you are. Just look at your last five boyfriends, even the ones you’ve shown me before Steve. They’ve all been tall and usually muscular, and more often than not, pretty thick.” It was true. Bucky had never considered the pattern before, although he supposed he’d never dated someone while they were gaining weight before. “When Steve started actually eating at that St. Patrick’s party, I thought you were gonna lose your mind. So embrace it. I follow Steve on Instagram, and he won’t stop posting reviews of food places from fuckin’ Albuquerque. Clearly he’s not looking to lose weight, so in the meantime, you can enjoy it. And maybe when he gets back, you can even tell him about it.”

They talked a little more about some other things, but Bucky started to lose interest when Nat drew a parallel between his newfound kink for the fat & furious, and the games she liked to play with Wanda. Bucky didn’t need to hear about how Wanda liked to be put in a collar and treated like a dog. Bucky didn’t want to hear about how Natasha liked to command her to sit, stay, and come.

When they ended the call and Bucky swore up and down not to call her for at least a few days (since they saw each other at work every day anyway), and Nat told him not to worry about it, he decided to take her advice, and embrace it.

Steve’s voice was stuck in his head, saying “life is short; eat dessert first”. Except the ‘eat dessert first’ part was replaced by ‘explore your fetishes’. Nat had explained that that was just how Bucky works, and if Steve was compatible, and everything was consensual, then there was nothing to be worried about.

Indulging in this strange, wild fantasy of his was liberating in a way he’d only known before when Steve would lay his palm on his neck and instruct him in that sweet, low voice.

Friday morning, right after Bucky parked his car in the space that he and Steve shared for work, his phone buzzed with a snap from Steve. He opened it, and nothing could have prepared him for the sight of a soft belly gently pressing open the two halves of a pair of dark-wash jeans, captioned “we’ve got a problem” right over the deep navel. At first, he thought he’d accidentally opened one of the newfound weight gain porn accounts on tumblr that he was following, but as the countdown in the upper-right hand corner ticked down from 10, he realised that it was a real snap. And, although the image didn’t contain a face, Bucky could tell by the gold hair trailing down from the navel that it was apparently Steve.

Still in shock, he quickly screenshotted the image before it disappeared, wincing when the text “Bucky screenshotted Steve’s snap!” appeared in the chat history.

Immediately, another snap appeared from Steve. Bucky opened it.

The blond appeared on the small screen of Bucky’s phone, expression frozen halfway between a cringe and an apology. Sorry, that was for someone else, the caption read.

Bucky had no idea how to respond. Was he supposed to bring up the fact that Steve had just sent him a belly pic? Or the fact that Steve had meant to send someone else a belly pic?

He decided to pretend that it never happened. He took a picture of him smiling pleasantly, captioned “no problem x'D happens all the time”. Bucky could not think of a falser statement. Steve seemed to accept Bucky’s attempt, however, and the rest of their respective mornings went as normal. Over lunch, they skyped, and neither mentioned the incident at all. Bucky was almost certain that he dreamed it, except the screenshot was saved carefully to his phone.

After wracking his mind for a possible explanation to the point of insanity, Bucky swivelled around to meet Natasha. “Are you available for over-sharing?” he pleaded.

Nat swivelled around so quickly the papers on her desk fluttered. “Always. Spill the tea.”

Bucky showed her his phone screen. Nat blinked, grabbed the phone, squinted at it, and opened and closed her mouth. “Is… that Steve?”

Bucky nodded.

Nat grinned. “Well, that’s great, right? You’re into it, and so is he.”

“Maybe not. He snapped me like two seconds later and said that it was a wrong-person-snap.”

“….Okay?”

Bucky sighed. “I know. I’m as confused as you are.”

“So, ya boi is off in New Mexico, getting fat and sending belly pics, your equivalent of dick pics, to someone else? Is that snap cheating?”

“I wouldn’t say he’s cheating on me. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.”

“What did you do?”

“I played it off like nothing happened. I didn’t want to embarrass him.”

Nat nodded knowingly. “I thought I detected notes of elephant during your lunch video chat.”

“What elephant?” Bucky asked, and received an utterly poisonous glare. “Okay, okay. What should I do?”

Nat waved her hand. “You missed that boat. How long until he gets back?”

“A week from today,” Bucky whined miserably.

“That’s a long time for one elephant.”

Chapter Text

Steve woke up in the same position he fell asleep, diagonally across his hotel bed, with his feet near the pillows. He’d been too tired to rearrange himself, and it was comfortable enough. He groaned, swearing that if he and Thor went to a microbrewery that late at night, he would at least do it on a weekend. At least it was his last day of going to the building site before the weekend. Now that he was actually doing a lot of work on Mr. Stark’s building, all his precious few hours of free time were spent with Thor. They’d already gone to nearly all the good restaurants in Albuquerque, and now they were going back and hitting their favourites again. The particular microbrewery they’d been to last night was their second favourite, and that was their fourth time.

Steve rose, ignoring the throbbing of his head, and grabbed a clean pair of dark wash jeans from on the lamp. Only half paying attention, he put in his legs and pulled them up to his hips, grabbing a shirt from where it hang halfway out of a drawer. After he buttoned the shirt, he noticed that the pants were a little snug, and when he tried to close the button, the two tabs wouldn’t even meet. At first, he thought that he’d grabbed Bruce’s jeans (after about a week of two untidy men living together in a hotel room, their things had exploded outside their neat travel cases and found their way to strange places; Bruce’s aftershave had somehow ended up under Steve’s mattress one night, and Steve’s sunglasses revealed themselves in Bruce’s laptop case) by accident, but he realised that the shorter man’s jeans wouldn’t be quite as long. He swore out loud after checking the label on the jeans. While shopping last week, it had occurred to him that he should grab another pair of jeans. He hadn’t been sure of what type of clothes to pack, so he mostly packed all of his business suits, and only four pairs of jeans. After meeting Fury, Stark, and the other architects on the project, he realised that the attire was much more casual. They hadn’t had the jeans he wanted in the size he usually wore, so he got them a size up and told himself a belt could turn them into a comfortable fit.

But somehow, without noticing, he’d effectively outgrown all of his regular medium 32- inch jeans and started wearing the new large 36-inch jeans. But 36 inches wasn’t enough to close around the belly that Albuquerque had supplied him with.

Unsure of what to do, he grabbed his phone. Thor would understand. Steve had mentioned a while back that he wanted to cut down before the end of the trip, so that Bucky wouldn’t be greeting an entirely different person than the one who left for a business trip nearly a month ago. Steve would go back to his strict diet, and he would work twice as hard in the gym, and everything that had happened in March would be a quiet slip up that would never be repeated. Thor had grinned knowingly, and then explained that he’d been the same when he first married Loki. After they moved in, he adopted a more relaxed lifestyle, and quickly put on about fifteen pounds. He’d had all intentions of losing it, but it quickly turned into thirty, before Loki admitted that he really didn’t mind (quite the opposite, if Thor’s story was to be believed), and Thor gave in to an indulgent lifestyle, becoming the very thick man he was today. Steve doubted that Bucky would be as understand. Not that Bucky would be cruel… but who wanted to date someone that couldn’t control themselves with something as simple as food?

He lifted up his shirt, snapping the picture of his belly obstructing the fit of his large 36 jeans. We have a problem.

A moment later his phone buzzed. “Bucky took a screenshot of Steve’s snap!”

Steve’s mouth went dry, and the phone dropped to the ground. His vision began to swim and his face felt hot. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears and the tip of his nose. His head began shouting cruel things at him, about how stupid and irresponsible he’d been ever since he gave in to those goddamn macaroons, but he was too busy trying to keep himself from vomiting.

He needed to say something, he had to say something to Bucky. He had to explain himself somehow.

Why the fuck had Bucky taken a screenshot?

He had to erase this all somehow, and he would take back every moment of fun he’d had in the last two weeks with Thor and the days preceding to unsend that snap. No matter how much he’d enjoyed himself, it wasn’t worth Bucky knowing how pathetic he really was.

He took a selfie, trying not to look as sick as he felt. Sorry that was for someone else. He knew that that probably left Bucky with more questions than answers.

Mercifully, it seemed not to perturb Bucky at all. Just the sight of his smile made Steve’s mind quell just a little. Maybe it hadn’t been that much of a big deal to him? But Bucky had to know—he’d seen the way he was eating before he left, he had to know the effects so much food had on him.

But if it didn’t matter to him, why did he take the screenshot?

Work was in fifteen minutes, and that called for an immediate solution. Fortunately, the hotel that Fury had booked him was one of the nicest he’d ever been in, and room service didn’t find it strange when he ordered a size extra-large 38 jeans. They arrived four minutes later, and he paid the bellboy and tipped him generously.

Steve put his mind into work and tried to forget about it. If it wasn’t a big deal to Bucky, then it wasn’t a big deal to him. At noon, they had their rendezvous voice chat, and Bucky was as pleasant as ever. Steve felt like he was sweating, and stuttered a few times, but he proudly showed Bucky the blueprints to the building, and an hour later, he was blowing a kiss goodbye and promising to call tomorrow.

After work, he texted Thor (double and triple checking that it was Thor he texted), asking where they were to meet up for dinner. He promised himself he’d have something small, a salad or something, and tomorrow morning he’d wake up early and go for a run. He’d fit back into 36s before the end of the trip. But then Thor suggested his favourite steak place, and no force of nature could stop Steve from ordering the 3 pound prime boneless rib.

“Did it cross your mind that he might like it?” Thor asked when Steve was halfway through his appetizer.

“I doubt that Bucky wants to see a picture of my gut hanging out of my pants,” Steve grumbled in response.

“You’d be surprised. Loki’s preferred method of sexting is when I show him before-and-afters of large meals.”

It was a possibility that Bucky could have more kinks than he let on—Steve was aware of at least one secret fetish Bucky possessed—but Steve just couldn’t picture Bucky as a chubby chaser.

“That could explain why he screenshotted the snap,” Thor added.

“Wait, are you implying that Bucky jacked off to that snap?”

Thor shrugged. “I just think you two should talk about it. That is how every fetish is successfully executed. From what you told me, the two of you have a very successful Dom-sub sexual relationship, and that’s because you’ve spoken about it so much. You’re both mature adults. Even if you two decide that this kink isn’t something you’re into, you should talk about it.”

Steve could picture about sixty ways the conversation go could wrong, but there was one way it could go right. He hadn’t felt this mix of nervous and excited since before they’d talked about their dynamic.

Bucky was so drunk he could barely stand. Steve’s crush had reached its peak at this point, and he was standing close enough to steady him in case he lost balance, which the brunet soon did. He spilled his vibrant green alcoholic shamrock whatever on Steve’s shirt. Steve was holding him at arm’s length with his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky was focused on the growing stain on Steve’s shirt.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he slurred.

“It’s okay,” Steve said quietly, voice sort of caught in his throat by the way Bucky turned his unfocused gaze to his face and made eye contact. He was worried that he had spoken too softly for Bucky to hear him in the quiet room, but the he titled his head and gave a sweet smile, then let himself crash into Steve, still holding him by the shoulders. At first Steve was worried that he’d passed out, but Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve in a sloppy hug.

“You’re gonna take care of me, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a request. It was an acknowledgement of Steve’s desire to do just that.

“Yes,” Steve whispered, his ears less than an inch away from Bucky’s earlobe.

Bucky rubbed the stubble on his cheek against Steve’s face. “I want you to bend me over one of those rickety desks and fuck me into next week.”

Steve wanted nothing more, but he lived by a strict regimen which said that he must keep himself in the best physical condition possible, and not consider someone drunkenly propositioning sex as consensual.

“Take me home,” Bucky begged.

That began the three day weekend that they spent together. Steve did take Bucky home, and the brunet fell asleep on Steve’s bed. Steve could have watched him forever like that, young and ruffled and perfect. The blond slept on the floor, and helped Bucky through his hangover the next morning. Bucky apologised profusely, but Steve wouldn’t hear it. When he felt better in the afternoon, he readdressed the proposition from the night before.

“Think you still want to fuck me, even after seeing me yak my lungs up?” Bucky asked, both shyly and impertinently at the same time.

“Hey. I promised I’d take care of you,” Steve responded.

“Not really. I mean, you didn’t say it.”

“Okay. Well.” Steve stepped toward Bucky, sitting on his window seat. “I promise to take care of you.”

“I’m a bit of a brat,” Bucky warned.

“I like ‘em bratty,” Steve responded, letting a bit of a growl in his voice.

“Shit, if I knew it was this easy to get you to take me home, I would’ve gotten drunk months ago.”

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first day I met you, when I interviewed you,” Steve admitted, hoping it wasn’t too much.

“I wanted you to fuck me at the interview, some lame porno plot, and act like that was the interview. ‘Good morning, Mr. Barnes, please remove your shirt.’”

Steve laughed, then his face turned serious. “We could.”

The dining room table played the part of Steve’s office desk, and Bucky let himself into the kitchen. “Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

“Good morning. Please take a seat. The company has reviewed your application, and we think your references are most impressive.”

Bucky writhed in his chair. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” Steve said with a smile. “Call me sir.” He wanted to push farther, wanted to say the word daddy, but he figured today was enough of a start. “I’d like to discuss your portfolio. What would you consider your greatest strength?”

Up till then, they’d been playing some game of subtext, but Bucky leaned forward like he was about to tell Steve a secret. “Well…” he drawled. “I give some fucking great head.”

“I’m afraid this company doesn’t go on word alone. You’ll have to show me what you mean.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky’s pupils were dilated so much his eyes looked twice the size they were, making him look even younger, even more impressionable.

Bucky stood up off his chair. “Crawl,” Steve commanded, before he’d gotten more than a foot. Bucky obediently dropped to the ground and crawled to where Steve was seated, making eye contact the whole time. Steve sat on his throne and didn’t move, observing Bucky unzip him and blow him. He didn’t give any sort of clue that he was enjoying it, although it was incredible.

Before he could come, Bucky pulled off of his cock with a pop. “I like encouragement,” he stated, before returning to the task before him.

“That’s right, good boy,” Steve said automatically, relishing the control he had over Bucky, and just like that, he stepped into a role that felt like it was made for him. Bucky whined around his dick, making it vibrate. Steve continued to offer praise all through the blowjob, soft reassurances building to a climax as he orgasm. “Fuck, yes! Right there, baby, that’s so perfect. God, yes! Swallow,” Steve commanded, and Bucky obeyed without a second thought.

They continued through the rest of their game, Steve remarking that he ought to check out Bucky’s assets, spanking him lightly over the table, and then finally, said that he thought Bucky would do perfectly in the position.

“Thank you, sir. I think I’ll like it here—you know, some places really fuck you up the ass, but I can tell you value your employees, really take care of them.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I’m happy to do whatever my boss would—“

“Beg for it.”

Bucky licked his lips, reminding Steve that they hadn’t even kissed yet. “Please, sir, please fuck me, I’m so hard, I want you to. Make me scream, I want it—I want your huge dick inside me sir.”

Steve tied Bucky hands behind his back with the linen napkin he had lying on his table and fetched a condom, making Bucky wait patiently in a kneeling position, facing away from him. Steve took all his clothes off and put on the condom, coming up behind Bucky and forced him down with one arm at his neck. Bucky grunted softly as his cheek hit the carpet, clothed ass in the air. Steve undid the brunet’s pants and eased them down to see that he was commando. His ass was the most beautiful Steve had ever seen on a man—perfectly round, tan and unmarked. He couldn’t wait to make bruises all over his young flesh, watch him sit uncomfortably for the next week, the memory of Steve’s cock inside him making him hard and unable to focus. He slipped inside him slowly and Bucky cried out. Steve shushed him, muttering sweet nonsense in a low, rough voice. Bucky came first, taken care of, just like Steve promised.

“Come on my face, please,” Bucky choked out after he finished his climax. Steve flipped him over, still hard, and sat on his lap, jacking himself off until he did come, splashing onto Bucky’s face and dripping onto his shirt.

Steve wasn’t sure if that office game had just been roleplaying, some fantasy that Bucky had, but he didn’t leave after that. He made them lunch in Steve’s kitchen, and asked if he could borrow Steve’s car to drive back to his apartment and pick up his toothbrush. The times they had sex after that—which were very often—did not always include office roleplay, but the dynamic was very similar.

Steve was pulled out of his memory by the waiter asking if they wanted dessert. He and Thor ordered a medium cherry cheesecake, saying that they would take whatever they couldn’t finish home, but there was no need for boxes the next time the waiter came by. Steve kept thinking about what Thor suggested. Just talk about it. If Bucky hadn’t brought up the idea of Steve taking care of him, Steve might not have suggested it. This kink was different, though—being a Dom was part of Steve’s personality, just like subbing was part of Bucky’s. That’s why they were so compatible. But just because Steve was gaining weight didn’t mean that Bucky had to be into it.

Chapter Text

Bucky paced back and forth, checking his watch every twenty seconds. He never really understood the true value of a minute until Steve’s flight would be there in fourteen. He clutched his drugstore bouquet of flowers in his left hand; tiger lilies, sunflowers, and black-eyed-susans.

Natasha had been right; a week was a long time for an elephant, but he thought he’d handled it well. Now that Steve was coming home, they could properly discuss everything. Bucky knew that sometimes Steve had trouble bringing up a topic, and even though the blond was generally more assertive, sometimes he needed a gentle prompt just to know that Bucky was on the same page. The last three weeks that Bucky had spent alone made him think about just how well Steve had kept the promise he made to him a little over a year ago. Bucky was so grateful for the way they could both freely give and freely take without feeling guilty, or secretly believing the other person had the better end of the deal. Bucky used to worry that he had the better end of the deal… he got an incredible, beautiful, strong Dom who took care of his every need and put him before himself, and all he had to do was call him sir, which wasn’t even a con to begin with. When they first started dating, he was concerned that everything he asked of Steve was too much, that his boss would eventually get tired of him always being so needy, but he never did. Steve enjoyed being Bucky’s Dom as much as Bucky enjoyed being his sub. The compatibility they had was stronger than the differences they might encounter, and Bucky knew that was why they’d happily lived together for a year. He was feeling optimistic to the time they’d spent apart, and although he was dreading it in the days before Steve left, and feeling miserable when he was alone, it had really made him appreciate what he had, and not take Steve for granted. He vowed to let the Snapchat incident blow over, or talk about it, if that’s what Steve was wanted. He trusted him to not be cybercheating, and the subject matter of the picture could be saved for another conversation.

New Mexico had made them stronger, and Bucky felt that things were changing. Normally, he’d be afraid of a change in their dynamic, a shift of what he’d grown comfortable with, but he wasn’t frightened at all. He enjoyed relinquishing the control to Steve, and the security that offered. When they started their relationship, his favourite part about them was the stability that they had, and he knew that Steve would never change something unless Bucky was comfortable with it. Now things beyond either of their control were changing, and they were growing… but they were growing together and Bucky had never felt closer to Steve.

He decided that an appropriate way to communicate all this to Steve was to buy him a bouquet of sunshiney flowers.

He checked his watch again, and it was time, and he could barely contain himself as a flight attendant rolled back the folded wall connecting the airport to the bridge. A few people walked past, and then Bucky caught sight of him, and unbidden tears escape from his eyes as he ran forward and threw his arms around his best friend, crumpling the flowers a little.

He felt himself being lifted a little off the ground as Steve’s strong arms wrapped around him, and then Steve spun him around. People waiting to board their plane or for their loved ones applauded, and Steve chuckled as he set Bucky down. Bucky still didn’t let go, face buried in the crook of Steve’s neck, breathing in his scent and enjoying the feeling of Steve’s soft belly pressing into his torso…

Wait.

Bucky pulled back, and his eyes slipped down from Steve’s face to his belly, and then they snapped back up as soon as he realised he shouldn’t stare. He grinned and gave Steve a kiss, feeling the blond’s stubble itch his chin. “Growing your beard out?”

Steve smiled. “Yep. Time for a change.”

Bucky nearly laughed out loud at how similar that was to his earlier sentiments. “I got you some flowers.”

“Buck.” Steve’s smile softened and his eyes grew damp. “Thank you.”

Bucky giggled, unable to contain himself. He thought Steve would laugh, be a little confused and toss an ironic ‘thanks’ maybe, but he didn’t expect him to be so touched. “So, what do you want to do? Are you hungry for some dinner, or do you wanna go home? That new pizza place opened up while you were gone.”

Steve seemed tired, but looked down at his watch. “Sure, I could eat.”

I bet you can, Bucky thought, sneaking a quick look while Steve was busy looking at his phone. It’s hard to tell how much weight he’d put on since St. Patrick’s Day, especially with the dark, layered clothes he had on. Bucky couldn’t wait to find out later, during reunion sex.

They walked to the car and Bucky drove to the pizza place, but when they went in, Bucky was almost feeling like it was a mistake. He would rather just go home and make Steve something, then peel all those layers of clothing off of him like he was unwrapping a present. He wanted to feel Steve’s new waist, play with the pudge underneath his belly button (the only reference he had to go on was The Snap™, and he was certain it had only grown since then), sit on his big lap and feed him something. All of which would not be considered anywhere near appropriate in a public restaurant.

They were seated in a corner booth with a wide window, and Bucky sat next to Steve instead of across from him, just wanting to be close. Steve and Bucky agreed on a Sicilian pie, and when the waiter came over, Steve ordered a large. They chatted about Stark’s new building while they were waiting, Steve modestly sharing how happy he was to try a few new ideas he’d had.

When the food arrived, Steve ate his slice like it was a religious experience. Bucky had never seen such a complete 180 turnaround, from someone who practically shied away from food to the critic he was sitting next to.

“Wow, this really is amazing. When you told me they were opening up another pizza place, to be honest, I was a little annoyed. I mean, there are plenty, but this is incredible. They definitely have their own thing going on here. I don’t particularly like Sicilian, which is why I ordered it. Thor—the guy I told you I ate with a few times—taught me that trick. Order something you don’t like, and if it’s good, then the restaurant impressed you. I love the balance of herbs on this. Usually the sauce on Sicilians is too overwhelming, but this is delightful. Are you getting undertones of sweetness? It doesn’t seem like a greasy pizza and sweetness would be a good combination, but it so is. Also, I love the level of grease on this. It’s not dripping down your arm, but it’s not too dry, either.”

Bucky was speechless. Was this the same man who used to dab his pizza with napkins to soak up the grease?

Steve finished his first slice quickly after his review, and grabbed a second. “What do you think, Buck?”

“Uh… it’s good, yeah. Really… light, kind of?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he enthusiastically nodded. “Yes!! I didn’t know how to describe that, but it is. Almost… fluffy, but the crust is compact. We absolutely have to come here again.”

Bucky had never actually spoken about food before like this. Sure, he’d discussed favourite restaurants and meals before when he was just getting to know someone… but usually food was a topic that was thrown into the same categories as “work” and “weather”, reserved only for the people he’d rather reorganise the filing cabinet than talk to. But this was different. They weren’t talking about food because they had no deeper things to talk about… it was as if Steve found the food so profoundly wonderful that he wanted to discuss it. As they continued their meal, Bucky found new aspects of the pizza he enjoyed, and instead of simply savouring the tastes, he would mention it, and Steve would enthusiastically reply. It didn’t feel forced, though, and although food wasn’t typically something Bucky would form a bond over, he finished his third slice feeling satisfied, and like deliberating what he was eating added a whole new facet to dining.

“Want dessert?” he asked Steve as they neatly finished the entire large pizza.

Steve grunted affirmatively in response, mouth full of the last slice.

The waiter returned and they ordered cannoli, and like the pizza, they again discussed all the different flavours, and this time Bucky took as much part as Steve did.

“Is this what you did with Thor?” Bucky asked, understanding how people who had little in common could bond over the wonder of food.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Isn’t it awesome? A month ago, I never thought of food this way before, but he totally opened my eyes. It’s such a huge part of my life, but I never really appreciated it like I do. I’d say eating is easily one of the highlights of my day. I don’t know… life just seems so much brighter when I learn to love the relationship I have with food, rather than despising my need for it.”

Bucky had almost been worried that Thor was his competition, but when he heard about the way Steve spoke about him, he understood there was nothing to be worried about, and even wished he could thank the man for helping Steve become such a foodie. But something about the last thing Steve had said made Bucky pause. He certainly would describe Steve’s relationship with food prior to St. Patrick’s Day as one where he despised his need for it, but it was shocking to hear Steve admit it, and made Bucky think there was more to this than what he was saying. “Yeah… food should be enjoyed,” Bucky prompted, hoping it would be enough to get Steve to continue.

“I never understood that until St. Patrick’s Day,” Steve whispered, like he was afraid of how easy it was to enjoy it. “Thank you.”

“Man, all I did was hand you the macaroons while I went to the bathroom to smoke a joint,” Bucky chuckled.

“No, not just for that. Thank you for being so understanding, for not being weird about… anything, or looking at me different, or making a big deal of… things.” And there it was. Bucky could see the shape in the air where the elephant was, a sort of large blob, and he could almost make out the texture of its skin.

“Hey, you don’t need to thank me for that. Only an asshole would get mad at you for loving yourself.”

“I didn’t hate myself before,” Steve almost sounded like he could cry. Bucky wanted to find out the source of what was going on here, something he could barely begin to understand, but he didn’t want to push Steve too hard.

“You didn’t give yourself any grace, either.”

“Do you think I was too cruel?”

“Well, think about it, Stevie. Just imagine treating anybody else—me, for example, like that. What if you made a rule, an absolute rule, that I had to get up at the crack of dawn every morning, run five miles, only eat foods from a very specific list, and not very large portions, and at a specific time each day, and every time I slipped up you got angry and punished me?”

Steve’s face grew angry, his protective instincts kicking in. “I could never do that,” he growled.

“Exactly. It’s okay to be forgiving with yourself. Would you hate me or make a big deal about it if I gained fifteen pounds?” The elephant trumpeted and flicked its tail, turning around and running off to DC’s concrete jungle.

“Of course not,” Steve breathed.

“I don’t mind, sweetheart. It’s not a problem,” Bucky responded, lying his hand on the soft swell of Steve’s belly, slightly firmer and larger because of the meal he’d just finished. What he really wanted to say was that he liked it, it was the opposite of a problem. He saw how happy food made him, and he wanted to continue watching Steve enjoy food as much as he did. Even more, he wanted Steve to gain more weight, a heavy gut to balance the broad shoulders he already possessed, biceps as large as his head and a belly as thick as his chest, growing out of all his new-bought jeans, growing out his beard like he said, sipping craft beer and wearing plaid flannels that couldn’t button even if he tried, sitting Bucky on his lap and calling him baby, his baby boy, Bucky wanted to be good for his big fat daddy—

Steve winced and shied away from Bucky’s hand on him. “It’s disgusting,” he spat out automatically, moving to stand up. Bucky was on the outside of the booth, and slid out to let Steve leave, even though he didn’t like it. Steve stormed up to the counter and paid for their meal, then got into the car and waited for Bucky to follow.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, but Steve didn’t hear him, preoccupied with driving home. The ride was silent.

Steve led as they got into the apartment. Bucky was holding back tears. Maybe he should offer to sleep on the floor—

“I want to show you something,” Steve said, not looking Bucky in the eyes. His voice was softer than Bucky thought it would be, and he was glad the blond wasn’t angry.

“Okay…” Bucky waited in the living room while Steve went to his bedroom and brought back a box. He rifled through it, pulled out a polaroid, and handed it to Bucky, looking at the floor.

There were a few kids in the picture, but the one in the centre caught Bucky’s eye. He was about fifteen, blowing out a birthday cake, eyes reflecting the lit candles. He looked positively ecstatic, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile, catching the happiness second hand.

“That’s me,” Steve said, after Bucky was quiet for a few minutes.

Oh.

Steve had been chubby as a kid. Bucky wouldn’t describe the kid in the picture as obese, but all the other kids in the picture were just thin enough to make Steve the fat kid of the group. Bucky could picture Steve getting bullied, even by the ones he thought were on his side. He could picture him having a growth spurt toward the end of high school, working out every morning, slaving away the years he should have spent getting drunk and having a pool party at his house when his parents were away for the weekend by punishing himself, sadly checking pasta, egg yolks, and even birthday cake off the list of things he could eat, meeting someone from high school and feeling a rush of validation when they didn’t recognise him, depriving himself of macaroons and beer and sleeping in because of the hatred for his own body that those cruel children had made sure he memorised. And now it was happening again, he was slipping, gaining weight faster than he could buy clothes for, finishing meals meant for multiple people by himself, abandoning running in favour of an episode of Jessica Jones.

“Steve,” said Bucky gently.

“Fucking don’t. I don’t want your pity.” Angry tears fell from Steve’s eyes.

“Steve. Your happiness is more important than what other people think of you.” He laid his hand gently on Steve’s belly for the second time that night, unable to keep himself from touching it. “This is a product of your happiness. And for the record, if you care what people think about it, I think it looks really nice.” Steve didn’t speak, and Bucky went on. “You are not obese. You are not inept. You are strong and young and healthy. You could easily bench press me. This doesn’t ruin your health. I understand if you want to lose some weight, if that helps your mental health—but don’t go back to before because you think you don’t have value unless your BMI is below ten.”

Steve let go of the fists he’d been making, and gently sagged into Steve’s arms. Bucky lowered himself to the floor, and he sat cross legged, Steve’s head in his lap, letting him cry. “It’s just so hard to let go of everything I was taught to believe.”

“I know, daddy, I know.” And goddammit, Bucky would take on every person who ever fat-shamed anyone right there. “It’ll take a while, but I’ll be here. Whatever you need.”

Steve let himself cry unashamed for a few moments more, letting go years of pent-up whatever. Bucky continued to mutter whatever sounded good that popped into his head, motivational validations he’d seen somewhere on Instagram. Then the blond took a deep breath, accepted the tissue Bucky offered him, and sat up. “You called me daddy.”

“Fuck,” Bucky blurted, eyes wide, missing his chance to play it off. “I’m sorry, Steve, I should have asked—“

Steve crashed his lips into Bucky’s, kissing him deeply and making him float through space, the stars giving off a warm light as he passed each constellation. “Don’t ever apologise for doing something that makes you happy,” he quoted.

Bucky smirked. “I don’t think my other weird kink can be compared to you starving yourself for years.”

“I didn’t starve myself. And sure it can—we’ve both been needlessly depriving ourselves of something that brings us joy.”

“I promise to call you daddy if you promise to eat without worrying about it.”

Steve laughed. “Somehow I feel like both of those lean in your favour.”

“Steve, if it makes you uncomfortable—“

“No, I was kidding. I like it when you call me daddy. And if you like this…” he brushed one hand over the tight fabric of his t-shirt. “So do I.”

Chapter Text

Steve had fully intended on buying some tiramisu to take home, but he’d been rather preoccupied toward the end of their dinner. Suffice to say that he definitely still had room for a little dessert, which was fortunate with the way Bucky was looking at him. Apparently Bucky liking his weight meant that he wanted to watch Steve eat, and Steve had agreed to like it too. Or try. He certainly liked eating, and if that’s all it took to make Bucky happy, he was happy to comply. He would take care of his boy.

“I could go for some dessert… what do we have?” Steve asked casually, hoping that Bucky would pick up on the subtext.

Instantly, Bucky’s crotch had a Pavlovian response to even the mention of food. “We have some cake,” he responded in an equally nonchalant tone.

Steve hoisted himself up from where he still sat on the ground, and opened the refrigerator. On the top shelf was a square red velvet cake, with frosting that proudly proclaimed Welcome Home Steve. Steve chuckled and took it out, not bothering to get plates. He plopped down onto the couch and patted the cushion next to him like he was beckoning a dog. “C’mere.”

Bucky happily trotted over and waited patiently while Steve got himself adjusted, then sat down in Steve’s lap. “Can I feed it to you, Daddy?” he asked shyly.

“Fuck yeah, baby, get over here,” Steve agreed enthusiastically. He shifted himself so he was sitting upright a little more.

Bucky pulled at his shirt. “Off.”

Steve leaned forward and peeled it off, feeling his stomach rest over the waistband of his extra-large 38 jeans. Bucky didn’t wince or look away; he didn’t avoid it, and he didn’t have pity in his eyes. He let himself study Steve’s new curves, and the blond was worried that he might forget to breathe. “You can touch it, too,” Steve reminded.

Bucky licked his lips like he was about to touch a priceless original Van Gogh. He placed both his hands on either side of Steve’s navel, spreading his fingers out to knead his love handles. He pinched the fullest, softest part right above his belly button. “I want to bite it,” he whispered, and Steve wasn’t entirely sure he meant to say that aloud.

“Cake first,” Steve prompted, closing his eyes. He felt Bucky tap the fork against his lips and he opened, letting Bucky place the forkful of red velvet inside. Thousands of words to describe the flavour came to mind, but at the moment he was content to just rest peacefully on the couch, his boy happy and safe.

An unknown amount of time passed, and Steve began to feel close to uncomfortably full. He could feel that the rolls of his stomach had pressed out into a gently slope. Bucky continued to feed him with one hand while he explored with the other. Steve was grateful for the pressure, as Bucky’s belly rub served both the purpose of Bucky getting to feel Steve, and relieving some of the pain of Steve’s fullness. Steve could feeling Bucky squirming more, growing restless. “How much weight do you think you gained?” he asked.

Steve shrugged, eyes still closed. “Don’t know. Twenty, maybe.” He took another bite of cake. “I’ll weigh myself later. I’m a bit too full to get off the couch right now.”

“You mean, you can’t get up?” Bucky asked, voice fucked out with arousal.

Steve cracked open one eye. “Kinky little shit. Didn’t say I couldn’t. Just don’t want to.” He found that the sheer amount of food he’d managed to eat put an uncomfortable amount of pressure on his lungs, and he was a little short of breath. A month ago, not even a two-mile sprint could make him out of breath. Now, he was panting just from sitting on his ass and getting fed cake. He was kind of curious as to how big his stomach was, and moved his left arm from where it rested on the back of the couch down to the side of his stomach, grimacing when he realised it had an actual side. He heard Bucky sharply intake breath, and opened his eyes.

“It’s hot when you touch yourself like that,” the brunet explained, without moving his eyes away from Steve’s hand on his own gut.

Steve flicked his eyes over to the coffee table, to see a little under half the cake remaining. “I think I’m good on cake for now, baby,” he stated, and Bucky set the fork aside. Steve pulled on Bucky’s shirt. “I want to see you.” Bucky whipped off his shirt and slung it across the room, where it landed on the tv. He leaned forward and kissed Steve, his own small torso pressed up against Steve’s bare one, skin touching skin. Steve reached his arms around Bucky and slipped his hands down the smaller man’s pants.

“I want to ride you, daddy, please,” Bucky begged in Steve’s ear, arching his back and pressing his clothed erection against Steve’s stomach. Steve agreed, and Bucky sat up to remove his pants and underwear. “I’ll get a condom.”

Bucky got off, and Steve undid the button on his jeans, belly pushing down the zipper. He lifted his hips with a groan and shoved his pants down past his thighs, too lazy to take them off the whole way.

Bucky returned with a condom and a bottle of lube, and Steve moaned as Bucky rolled the condom on for him. He gently lowered himself back onto Steve’s lap, and his anus felt so tight and good around Steve’s cock. “Too full, baby. You gotta do the work,” he grunted.

Bucky didn’t seem to mind, however, and set up a rhythm while he jacked himself off. Steve’s belly jiggled in tandem with their movements. “Daddy, yes, you feel so good… oh…” Bucky cried out.

“That’s right, my sweet boy. So good for me. Gonna do what your big fat daddy tells you to do, huh?”

Bucky let out an unrestrained groan when Steve referred to himself as daddy. “Yes, daddy, gonna do whatever you say… I’ll be good for you.”

Steve reached out and closed his hand around Bucky’s on his dick. “You are, baby, so, so good.”

“God, you’re so big… you feel so good… ah, fuck…” Bucky gripped onto Steve’s generous love handles as Steve jerked him off.

“Gonna get even bigger for you. M’gonna have a beer belly that gets in the way when I try to fuck you. You’re gonna make me outgrow my extra-larges.” And he meant it, too. He was 190 the last time he weighed himself, early January. If they were right in estimation and he had gained 15 pounds, that meant he was already over 200. They hadn’t discussed how large Bucky wanted Steve to be, but Thor was around 260, so Steve figured that was a good place to start. And like Bucky said, he was certainly still healthy. He wasn’t even considered fat yet, not really. But he knew he would be soon if he kept letting Bucky feed him whole cakes to the point where he was too full to even fuck him properly. And he knew he would let Bucky do whatever he wanted.

“Yeah, daddy?” Bucky whined, close to orgasm. Steve put every bit of energy he had into thrusting, lifting Bucky into the air a little, making obscene sounds as he fell back down. Bucky came, spraying come on his own chest, and Steve came barely a second later, growing flaccid and pulling out of Bucky. The brunet, exhausted from doing all the work, leaned forward and laid on Steve. “You make a really good mattress,” he remarked.

“I sure am fat enough,” Steve grumbled pleasantly.

“I love it.” Even as Bucky lay on him, he had a generous handful of pudge in both hands.

Chapter Text

The following workweek brought warmer and warmer weather, and the blustery winds of March traded themselves out for the strong sun and light wind of April. Everybody was changing into their short sleeve shirts and light pants—even Steve, whose wardrobe (the one that fit him, at least) contained mostly cold weather clothes. Bucky didn’t mind, of course; it was a treat to watch Steve struggle to button up clothes he hadn’t worn since last summer.

However, not the rest of the fourth floor of Fury Architecture shared his sentiments. Steve walked past Bucky’s desk, giving a pleasant smile while he helped the new temp, Peter, move his stuff into his cubicle. Natasha’s eyes followed him until he disappeared around the corner.

“Please, Bucky, tell your boyfriend to put a shirt on that doesn’t gap around the buttons. It’s obscene.”

It took Bucky a moment to realise she’d spoken. “I know, I’ve tried to get him to buy new clothes for work, but he wouldn’t.” Bucky remembered that morning, when it had taken Steve several tries to find a button up that actually managed to stay buttoned.

“We could go shopping after work,” Bucky had suggested.

Steve had tested the strength of the shirt by jiggling his belly. “Nah. This fits.”

“Steve, no.”

They were already both turned on enough from Steve trying to squeeze into his old clothes, so it wasn’t very hard for Steve to break their rule of ‘no last-minute come-ons before work’. “What was that you said, Boy?”

Bucky’s breath had caught in his throat and he shuddered. He kind of wanted Steve to lay him over his lap and spank him until he was sore, and he knew one quick path there was to keep pushing. He had stood up a little straighter, reminding Steve that although he weighed thirty pounds more, they were still the same height. “I said no.”

Which lead Bucky to adjusting his welted ass on his stiff office chair, making Nat raise her eyebrow.

Bucky’s phone rang on his desk, making him jump out of the memory. He picked it up. “Barnes, Fury Architecture. How may I help you this morning?” he said in his professional tone that always made him cringe.

“Could you come to my office, please?” Bucky was surprised to hear Steve’s voice on the other line. There was something unreadable in the way he asked.

“Ah… sure? Be right there.” Bucky put down the phone, staring at it for a moment. “Be right back,” he called to Natasha, leaving their shared cubicle.

He knocked on the door of Steve’s office as a formality before immediately entering. “What’s up?” he asked, immediately before seeing. “Oh.”

Steve’s desk faced the door, and he stood behind it, an exasperated expression on his face. Four out of six of the buttons on his shirt remained in their proper holes. The one right above his belly button was missing, and the one below it had about an inch to go before it met the other side. Steve’s soft, doughy belly pressed through the gaps. At least before, no one could actually see flesh, just the outlines it made.

Bucky was immediately hard, and for a moment he thought he might pop his own button. He tried to stifle a giggle.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned, frowning down at his shirt.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened? I was just sitting here, working, and off it flew.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, that’s a pretty strong shirt. It looked like it was going to hold this morning, even if it barely contained you, it wasn’t going to break.” His eyes moved around Steve’s desk, until he caught the corner of a napkin peeking out, hidden behind Steve’s computer monitor. He moved his head and the doughnut sitting on the napkin revealed itself. Or, more appropriately, half a powdered sugar doughnut, with traces of white dust on the desk, Steve’s beard (growing in to a real goatee now, the hair a dirty blond and darker than on his head, with small shots of grey near the sides), and the front of his ruined navy-blue shirt. “Brunch?”

Steve nodded. “They had a box of them in the breakroom.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“Buck—where—“

Bucky drew the blinds before Steve could finish, and left the office, shutting the door. In the breakroom, the box still remained, with three doughnuts left; strawberry, chocolate glazed, and cinnamon. Bucky took all three and casually walked back to the office, resisting the urge to whistle.

He locked the door behind him. Steve was sitting on his chair, broken shirt effectively hidden. “I hardly think those are going to solve the problem,” Steve remarked dryly. Bucky noted that the rest of the powdered sugar doughnut was gone.

“Mm, yeah, but I don’t see it as a problem,” Bucky responded coyly.

Steve sighed. “Alright, I get your point. I’ll go shopping next time before it gets this bad, I promise.”

Bucky’s head was reeling at the notion of this happening again. “It’s not bad, though. I’m not punishing you for not getting a better-fitting shirt. I’m just… helping. One doughnut for a snack can’t possibly tide you over until lunch. And with your shirt like that, you can’t fetch more.”

Steve grinned in spite of himself. “What makes you think I’ve only had one?”

Bucky crossed the room and straddled Steve’s lap. It occurred to him that there might not be enough room for him for much longer, as he always already fighting for space with Steve’s gut. He decided to make the most of it while he could. “Think you can stomach three more?”

Steve pinched the roll right above his navel, pretending to contemplate. “It says yes.”

“We should name it.”

“What, like how guys name their dicks?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, Bucky. No.”

“C’mon, no one’ll know but us. How about… the Captain.”

“Oh my god.”

“Sure, ‘cause it’s in control. Or… magic 8 ball, because ‘it says yes’.”

“Okay, I like the Captain better.”

“How about Captain America? Because doughnuts.”

“Bucky.”

“Shush, you can’t talk and eat at the same time. Cap’s hungry.”

“I’m hardly hungry.”

“Hence the ‘America’.” Steve flinched a little. “I’m sorry… Steve, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Didn’t you? I’m just another typical fat American, eating doughnuts until I outgrow my desk chair. Who says I have the right, when there are starving countries… when there are people starving in our own country, and I’m having five doughnuts for a snack.”

Bucky was trying to focus on what Steve was saying, but… “Five?”

Steve sighed. “Well, it will be five, once I finish those.” He gestured with his chin at the doughnuts in Bucky’s hand.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. “You don’t have to if it makes you feel guilty. I don’t want you to feel bad, Daddy. You can stop here, and not gain any more weight. I like you like this.” He didn’t realise that in helping Steve accept his larger body, he might be putting too much pressure on him to continue getting larger.

Steve met his eyes. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if I just stayed like this?”

“Of course not.” And he meant it, too.

“Okay. That’s… that’s really important to me. I just wanted to know how much you… thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you however the fuck you want to be.”

“Okay. And… I don’t really want to lose weight. Or stay at this weight, necessarily. I…” Steve was so delicate and gentle, and Bucky wanted to hurt everyone who ever made him feel bad when he was little.

“What do you want, Daddy?”

Steve smiled. “I really want those doughnuts.”

Bucky laughed. “That I can do.” He caringly fed Steve each one, letting him take his time. He wish he could have known about how fragile Steve was before now, so he could have taken care of him as well as he took care of Bucky.

Steve finished the last doughnut, panting a little. The bottom two buttons of his shirt strained so hard Bucky thought the fabric might rip. Steve was holding Bucky on his lap with his left arm (the swelling of his stomach had allowed for less room for Bucky to occupy, so Steve had to steady him as he perched closer to Steve’s knee), and he unbuttoned the offending buttons with his right hand, finally taking a full breath as his belly expanded the whole way. He spread his legs to make room, and Bucky shifted onto his left leg, hissing a little, ass still a little raw from that morning. His erection was still quite prominent, and as Steve ate the doughnuts, he had slowly started humping him a little, just keeping himself occupied. Now that Steve was done, he shamelessly rutted his erection against Steve’s belly, just needing the friction.

“Not here, baby,” Steve whispered, heavy-lidded eyes slightly wider than before with the scandal of it all.

“C’mon, the blinds are down and I locked the door. No one’s gonna see,” Bucky pleaded.

Steve groaned and gave in. “Alright. Get the condom and the lube out of my top-right drawer.”

Bucky stood up and turned around, rummaging until he found the items he was looking for. Steve stood behind him, leaning forward and pressing Bucky into the desk. Bucky unzipped his pants, pushed them down over his ass, and leaned over on the desk. For all the times that they had fantasized or even role played about having sex in Steve’s office, they never did.

“Close your eyes,” Steve commanded quietly, in such a way that even if someone else was in the room they wouldn’t have been able to hear him. Bucky’s ears were always tuned into the frequency Steve’s words made. He could hear him whisper his name from across a busy room, as if he was meant to follow no one’s commands but the blond’s.

Bucky heard the sounds of Steve taking his pants off, the snap of the condom, the squirt of the lube. The chair creaked as Steve sat back on it, and Bucky shuddered as he traced one finger over the bruises on his ass. “Did I hurt you?” Steve whispered.

“I wanted it,” Bucky replied, wanting him to be gentle, but also wanting him to ‘gently’ pick him up and fuck him into a wall until he was screaming, biting down on his hand in a futile attempt to not alert the entire office to their lovemaking.

“You’ll use the safeword if it ever hurts too much,” Steve both reminded and asked.

“Of course.” Their safeword was freight car. It was the first thing that had popped into Bucky’s mind when Steve asked him, a word obscure enough to not be used in ordinary conversation.

Bucky then experienced the sensation of Steve licking from his balls up to his hole. Steve almost never gave Bucky a rim job, so this was an unexpected treat. He grabbed the edge of the desk, toes curling inside his dress shoes. Steve prepped him with his tongue, slipping it inside the sphincter of muscles. Bucky whined, and Steve reached out and put a hand on his cheek, pressing softly on one of his bruises to remind him to be quiet, too busy licking him out to speak. After a moment or two more of Steve curling and flattening his tongue inside Bucky, he stood and slowly penetrated him. He braced his palms on the desk, and Bucky could feel the beginnings of the underside of his belly resting on his back. Steve was careful to not hit Bucky’s bruises, and the sensation of dull pain mixed with pleasure was intoxicating. The desk creaked as Steve thrust into Bucky, and for a moment he was worried the faux-oak wouldn’t hold the majority of both their weight. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut so hard that phosphenes dancing in revolving circles. Steve was close to coming, thrusting with increasing frequency and power. Bucky’s dick was trapped underneath the desk from where he lay bent over it, and the friction against the plastic lumber mixed with the stimulation of Steve repeatedly hitting his prostate was making him come quicker than he wanted to. They came at the same time, a rare coincidence they’d only experienced a few times before. Steve wasn’t flaccid yet, and continued to thrust until a second orgasm shook him, and he relaxed his full weight on Bucky, lying on him on his desk.

The wood creaked, and the front left leg snapped, aiming the surface downward. Bucky and Steve snapped up, Bucky grabbing for the computer monitor as Steve caught the other end. The desk fell over on one end, splinters lining the cracked surface that would bear no more weight.

They paused in shock for a moment, standing in Steve’s office with their pants down (and Steve’s shirt only buttoned at the top) and cocks flaccid, holding Steve’s computer. Then Bucky burst out in laughter and Steve joined him.

“Fuck, I knew that was going to happen,” Bucky chuckled.

“A guess the person who designed that wasn’t a very good architect,” Steve commented with a grin.

“I’m going to drop the computer on your foot!” Bucky threatened, and they lowered it to the ground. They cleaned themselves up and redressed themselves. “I’ll run to Kohl’s and buy you a new button up, and after work, we’re going shopping.” Steve nodded, trying in vain to get the buttons to close up again. “What size do you run now?”

Steve sighed, unbuttoning it altogether and reading the tag. “Better make it an extra-large.”

Bucky left the office, and everyone quickly whipped their heads back to their computers and an obvious hush fell over the room. He passed Nat and grabbed his wallet.

“’Be right back’, he said,” she quoted.

Bucky tossed her a grin. “I’m going out. Cover if the boss yells,” he added pointlessly. She rolled her eyes.

After work, Steve wore his new red button down, and they went back to Kohl’s to get him more summer clothes. They passed a section of palm-and-hibiscus-print shirts, to which Bucky gave a firm no. They managed to agree on a few t-shirts, Henley’s, and a couple of button ups, since dress code was more lax in summer. Steve tried the t-shirts on in the fitting room, before tossing it back over the door.

“Could you grab me the same design in the next size up?”

Bucky read the tag, and returned a moment later. “They don’t have this in extra-large.”

Steve swore. “Their sizes must run small here.”

“Yeah, they must,” Bucky agreed, glad that Steve couldn’t see him grin. “Let me see it on you.”

Steve sighed and opened the door. It was barely better than the button up he wore to work. It fit, but it hugged Steve’s belly snugly. “I’m not ashamed of it, but I don’t want to wear a shirt that looks like someone painted my skin,” Steve complained.

“C’mon, we’ll go to a different store.” They walked down the strip mall, and Bucky gestured to one that was mainly focused on men’s semi-formal wear. “How about this one?”

“Buck, that’s a plus-sized store,” Steve automatically responded, then paused a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” They left with several very nice, relaxed fit 2X shirts that Steve could comfortably wear—and had a little extra room, too.

They got back home just in time for dinner, and Bucky decided to make some spaghetti. While he was stirring the noodles, Steve came up behind him, wearing a new Henley. “217,” he whispered.

“Actually, it’s 212,” Bucky responded, checking the thermometer. He was always very specific about boiling his noodles at a specific heat.

“No…” Bucky spun around to look Steve in the eye. “I weigh 217 pounds. I’ve gained 27 pounds since January. I was 32-medium then. I fit into 38 extra-large now.”

The timer beeped, alerting them that the meatballs were ready. “Feel like making it 40 before May?”

Chapter Text

Steve woke up with Bucky’s face buried in his stomach. Bucky had long ago abandoned a pillow for Steve’s pillow-y frame, but it still surprised him just how much give there was to his belly. Only a few months ago, his torso had been muscular and toned, without any give. Now it was soft and round, and starting to brush the tops of his thighs when he sat. Every night it was firm and taught, packed full of food that Bucky had been shoving at him all day, and each morning it was digested, and just a bit more plump than the day before.

Bucky began to stir, digging his hands into the softness above the ever-shrinking waistband of Steve’s boxer shorts. Steve ruffled his hand through Bucky’s hair.

“You’re starting to get stretch marks,” Bucky noticed.

“Oh?” Steve attempted to look, but the apparent striations had appeared on the underside of his tummy, just beyond what he could see.

“Do they itch?”

Steve shrugged. “Hadn’t known till today.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not if you like them.”

Bucky kissed all along Steve’s lower belly, tickling the golden hairs that grew there. “I love them, because they mean you’re treating yourself well.”

Steve chuckled, in part from the way Bucky’s stubble scraped the sensitive skin. “A little too well.”

Bucky sat up, and slapped Steve on the belly, transfixed in the way it rippled. Finally he tore his gaze away. “C’mon, make us breakfast.”

Steve hefted himself up, scratching at his stretch marks (now that Bucky mentioned them, they did itch a little). “French toast?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Steve had never made French toast, either, so he decided to look up a recipe. In recent week, he had been a fan of breakfast for dinner, dessert for breakfast, lunch for midnight snacks, that type of thing. He was still getting used to all this food, and eating scrambled eggs and doughnuts at night or cupcakes for breakfast was still quite the scandal. This particular recipe combined strawberry cheesecake and French toast, and it was the perfect marriage of scandal and excessive sweetness that he enjoyed so much.

As he prepared the food, there were several breaks of waiting. The waiting was Steve’s favourite part, because he could snack even as he had other food heating. When the butter was melting in the microwave, he grabbed a few cookies from the jar on the oven. While he was frying the sandwiches, he drank a heavily-sugared coffee. The bacon took some extra time to become perfectly crispy (Bucky liked his burnt, the heathen), so he entertained his mouth with some macaroons from the pantry (since their discovery at the office party, the apartment was always stocked with at least five different flavours of the pastries).

Nearly an hour later, Steve had produced eight delicious sandwiches. He placed three on Bucky’s plate and five on his own, but they were so stuffed with strawberry cheesecake that he wasn’t sure he could have even that many.

Bucky had been entertaining himself with FRIENDS reruns on the couch, and Steve joined him, handing him a plate and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy, Babyboy.”

He settled himself down, and Bucky immediately sat on Steve’s lap, already so needy so early in the morning, although it hadn’t been twelve hours since they’d last fucked. He was so shamelessly needy, already grabbing Steve’s plate, abandoning his own on the coffee and loading up Steve’s fork with a generous mouthful. Steve obligingly parted his lips, and he had to admit that he enjoyed Bucky feeding him far more than he liked feeding himself. Bucky always concocted the perfect ratio of different tastes for the best-constructed bite, always had the perfect pace, always encouraged him when he needed it or let him slow down.

“Don’t you want your own?” Steve asked, with a nod toward the deserted dish on the table.

“I’m busy,” Bucky gasped, pressing his clothed cock into Steve’s overfull gut.

He took a little break after the third toast sandwich, and Bucky quickly finished his breakfast, pausing for a moment to praise Steve’s newfound ability at cooking.

“Ready for more?”

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d finished a meal without being stuffed as full as the remaining slices of toast on his plate, and he was thinking of declining.

Chandler Bing’s voice broke the silence on the television. “I’m full, and yet, I know if I stop eating this, I’ll regret it.”

They both burst out into laughter, and Steve nodded. “What he said,” he panted, a little out of breath.

Steve finished the fourth and rolled the band of his boxers down. He couldn’t see over his engorged gut, but he could imagine the red imprints it must have left on his skin.

“Fuck, Daddy,” Bucky exclaimed, rolling the waistband down farther. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get back into these.” Steve groaned in response. “Here, lift up your hips. I’ll take ‘em off.” Bucky got up on his knees (which still allowed Steve barely enough room to lift his ass off the sofa) and Steve tensed his poor abs as Bucky slipped them down his thick thighs. His hard dick sprang free—and at this point he wasn’t even sure if he was getting off of this, or just getting off on the fact that Bucky got off on this—and precome had already moistened the head. “Hurry up and eat your last one and I’ll take care of that,” Bucky added with a nod at Steve’s erection, fork already prepared for the next bite.

“I don’t know if I can,” Steve moaned, so full he could practically feel new stretch marks lining up his chunky sides.

Bucky whined with desire, allowing his left hand to brush down Steve’s once concave side. “Damn,” he breathed.

Steve allowed himself a few more breaths, and then opened his mouth. The pain of being overfull quickly passed, and before he knew it, the last slice of toast was gone as he opened his mouth and what he received was Bucky’s tongue.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I ate all that,” Steve confessed as Bucky pulled away.

“Neither can I,” Bucky admitted. Steve expected him to be paying all of his attention to his bloated midsection, but Bucky’s eyes seemed to be fixed on his chest. “Steve, I can’t believe how your whole body’s changed.”

Steve looked down at himself with new eyes, and realised Bucky was right. They’d been focusing on just his rapidly expanding stomach so much that they’d neglected the other, thickening parts of him. His thighs were still muscular, strong and powerful, but a dense layer of pudge blurred the contours of his muscles. His ass had filled out, the peach emoji they so often used in their emoji-sexts seeming more apt. His pectorals were round and full, sitting atop the casual shelf his belly created even when he stood. His new, neatly kept beard hid his considerable double chin, but his face had filled out, his once delicate cheekbones softened into sweet, rosy cheeks. His arms looked just as wide from any angle, and the new weight had settled onto his forearms, making his previously waspish wrists solid.

“You look beautiful.” Bucky drunk in Steve’s new body with his stormy eyes, and Steve agreed with him. It surprised him, how quickly and without fight he’d subscribed to a heavier lifestyle, but he felt a peace and acceptance in his heart he hadn’t felt before. He didn’t regret his days of sacrifice and effort. That was what he needed then to feel secure, and it aided to his frame now. He knew that Bucky would accept him even if he was fat but not muscular, but he liked the way his beer belly looked with his strength. He’d never felt this kind of appreciation for his body before, and the only way he could put it was that he had fallen in love with himself. He was finally beginning to see himself through eyes that didn’t criticise or judge, but admired how far he’d come and every step he’d taken to be the person he was. He felt a rush of arousal for himself and his lover, and it was intoxicating.

He pulled Bucky down onto himself and kissed him, tasting the pride in his mouth. He wrapped his arms around his Boy and stood. Bucky immediately wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, struggling a little to find a shelf to rest them around. Steve was full and still in a little pain, but he wanted to give his Boy some special attention, and he knew that Bucky liked to be fingered up against a wall, filthy and slow.

He strode over to the smoothest wall and slammed Bucky into it, just hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He could tell how exciting the brunet was, face blushed and lips wet. He couldn’t quite bring himself to talk dirty, even though he knew Bucky liked it, but right now he couldn’t talk any other way than sweet to his Boy.

He licked his fingers slipped Bucky’s briefs down over his ass, reaching down and working two digits into his lover’s hole.

Bucky whined as Steve brushed across his prostate, snapping his hips into Steve’s solid centre. “Daddy…” he breathed, and Steve could tell, instinctively, as he always could with Bucky, that there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Say it, boy, say it,” he urged, slipping a third finger in. He wanted to fist him, he knew Bucky would take it like a good boy, but he wasn’t going to try without lube, and he didn’t want to disrupt the moment, especially not when Bucky was on the verge of confession. Something wicked possessed him, the same force that always came when he felt like role playing. “Tell me your sins.”

They’d never talked about something quite as kinky as priest roleplay, but Steve was raised by a very righteous catholic family, and rebelling against all those strict laws and judgements was extremely erotic.

Bucky gasped, and Steve was relieved he was game. “I like being sodomised in the ass by my big fat boyfriend,” he whispered, eyes shut and head bent back, bumping into the wall as Steve adjusted him upward.

“Go on,” Steve encouraged. Sometimes, when Bucky had trouble using his words, it was easier for them to roleplay, as if pretending to be someone else could take the responsibility of his confession off of him.

“I like feeding him until he can hardly breathe, until he grows out of all of his clothes and has to rest walking up the stairs to our apartment. Like watching him gain weight and hold his breath while the numbers on the scale tic up.”

Steve’s mind was whiting out, and he had to shake himself to choke out a sentence. “You shouldn’t feel guilty of this… my child,” he added, trying to sound priestly.

”Oh, Father!” Bucky cried, and Steve would have donned a cassock long ago if he knew it got them this hot. “There’s… more,” he gasped between shudders. “I love it… when he… finishes meals meant for… a whole family. I love it when… he gets so big… he can’t see his feet. I love… him.”

Steve held his breath, waiting for more to follow, but that’s what Bucky had been leading up to. Steve quickly added a fourth finger, and Bucky shouted, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pushing himself higher, slamming his head into the wall and coming over Steve’s chest.

Steve set him down after he climaxed, and they both caught their breaths. Bucky was still nervous, not meeting Steve’s eyes—and dear God, had he really never told his Boy he loved him in their whole year plus of dating? Because he’d meant to, he really did—so Steve gently turned his chin and kissed him as softly as he could, barely touching their lips. “I love you too, Babyboy.”

Bucky deepened the kiss, allowing their tongues to feel each other. “Bout fuckin’ time.”

Steve laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Bucky grinned. “Hey, at least ya told me now, you bit fat idiot.” He gestured down to Steve’s still-hard prick. “Guess I was pretty bad about taking care of that, huh?”

Steve shook his head. “You come first, baby. Always.”

Bucky beamed. “Thanks, Daddy, but I gotta take care of you, too.”

Steve slapped his stomach. “Oh, you do plenty of that?”

“You sayin’ you don’t want me to?”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s neck and forced him to his knees, shoving his cock into the brunet’s face. “Sounds to me like you think it’s okay to talk to me like that. I don’t GODDAMN think so. Suck my dick, Boy.”

“Yessir—“ Bucky started to obey, but Steve grabbed his hair and made him choke on his erection.

“Shut up. You’re just asking to have me come down your throat.” Steve held Bucky’s head in place. He knew Bucky felt safe because he could hear his even breathing through his nose, and Steve would never force him to do anything he didn’t really want to. Although Bucky couldn’t quite say their safeword right now, Steve wouldn’t stop him if he gave the slightest indication something was wrong.

Bucky behaved and deepthroated Steve, expertly hollowing his cheeks and alternating sucking and bathing with his tongue.

“Good baby, good boy,” Steve hushed, relaxing his grip a little and running his hands through Bucky’s shoulder-length hair. “So good for me, such a pretty little boy.” He was feeling himself coming closer to the edge, he could practically feel the wind on his face as he tipped over, bringing Bucky down with him. He began to pull back, not actually wanting to come down Bucky’s throat, but Bucky grabbed him by the ass and pulled him back toward his face, dutifully swallowing all of him down, not pulling back until Steve had grown soft in his mouth.

Bucky rested his head on Steve’s belly, catching his breath. Steve gave him a hand up, and they began kissing again, deciding to sit on the couch rather than stand naked in the dining room.

Steve stretched out and Bucky took up his customary spot on top of him, and they watched TV for a little while. Not much longer after that, Steve’s stomach grumbled. Bucky gave him a wicked grin, and Steve checked his watch. “Wanna go out for lunch? I don’t feel like making anything, and all we have is Chinese takeout leftovers. I kinda want Olive Garden.”

Bucky wouldn’t stop smirking. “Whatever you want, Big Guy.” He retreated to their room to find some clothes. He tossed Steve some jeans that were lying on the floor.

“Are these clean?” Steve wrinkled his nose, but the smell-test didn’t deem them too unbearable.

Bucky shrugged. “You wore them yesterday.”

Steve put them on, but found some resistance when he pulled them up around his ass. With some dancing, he managed to get them up, but the tabs were far from closing. “Buck, are you sure these aren’t yours?”

Bucky scoffed from the bathroom, where he was tying his hair back. “You wouldn’t have gotten them that far if they were.”

“But I just wore them yesterday…” Steve muttered to himself, squirming back out of them and checking the tag. 38. “Dammit.” He grabbed another pair of jeans with more stretchy denim, and managed to get them buttoned, although it pinched and strained. He forced the waist of the pants down and hoisted his belly up, and although he didn’t necessarily like the way it squeezed his hips and exacerbated his muffin top, they fit better that way.

Bucky passed behind him and slapped his butt. “Buttoning your pants under your belly now, huh?” he asked casually.

“No,” Steve shot, although he clearly was. He grabbed an Olive Garden-appropriate shirt from his drawer, and encountered a familiar problem with the buttons of that shirt. They managed to button… but they wouldn’t stay buttoned if Steve breathed out.

“Holy hell, you look poured into that shirt,” Bucky teased, his hands wandering from behind. “How did you manage to get it on? Look, you can even see your cute chub at the sides.” The hem of the shirt went down in the front and back, and there was a triangle of flesh between his pants and the higher sides.

Steve scowled and batted his hands away. “It’s probably an old one.”

Bucky snatched it and read the label before Steve could put it away. “Nuh-uh, it’s newer. Damn, I wanted you to reach the 40s before May… it’s only April 22^nd…”

Steve pulled a black polo out of his drawer, trying that one on, but with the new way he had to button his pants, a large strip of pale underbelly showed. Steve pulled that one off and added it to the pile of clothes on the floor he was naming “Stuff I Just Fit Into Goddamn Yesterday”.

“Third one’s the charm,” Bucky added helpfully, and Steve could see him smothering a giggle in the mirror.

“You want me to tan your ass before we leave?” Steve snapped.

“Yes sir,” Bucky said cheekily, licking Steve’s neck. Bucky was right, as it turned out, and the third shirt fit Steve nicely, although it had little room to go. “Damn, Daddy, you look like a real bear now.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, turning to his side and appreciating how nice his ass looked. “I do.”

Chapter Text

They left the apartment and drove to Olive Garden. There were a few waiters loitering around the side entrance where they parked, smoking cigarettes. Bucky was fishing for his sunglasses in the glove box, and didn’t notice when Steve exited the car first, holding the door open for his boyfriend like the gentleman he was. Bucky put his shades on, then looked over and blushed, taking Steve’s hand.

“Thanks, Daddy,” he whispered, giving Steve a kiss on the cheek.

One of the busboys flicked his cigarette and crushed it with his boot. “Faggots!” he called out while Steve and Bucky were still about fifty feet away. Some of the other scumbags laughed with him, like that was the most hilarious and original thing they’d ever heard.

Steve ground his jaw and Bucky proudly linked his arm, determined to gay the haters away. He started walking, setting off a course that wasn’t too far away from the loiterers to be cowardly, but not too close to be stupid.

“Fatass,” one of the other ones called, quietly, like he was afraid of Steve’s size, which he the fuck should have been.

The first guy snorted. “Sure you wanna go into Olive Garden, buddy?”

Bucky tightened his grip. He could feel Steve tense.

“Your boyfriend’s looking a little fat, there!” the one in the back who had previously been quiet piped up. They were getting louder and braver, pumped off each other’s idiocy.

“’Hey, fuck me in the ass!’ ‘I can’t, I’m too fat!’” the second one mimicked.

Steve turned toward them, despite Bucky’s protests. “Hey, you wanna shut the fuck up?” he growled in his most intimidating voice, and even Bucky was a little afraid.

The two boys in the back pulled on the leader, and one of them whispered something about forgetting it, but the first one just waved them off, spit to the side, and hoisted his crotch. “Why don’t you come over here and make me, lardass.”

Steve had about six inches and sixty pounds on the tallest, heaviest one of the group (which just happened to be one of the two backing down), so Bucky didn’t doubt Steve would put them in their place, but he was more worried about Steve’s self-esteem. He’d worked too long, too hard with him to have four assholes destroy it all in a parking lot. He didn’t know what he’d do if he woke up the next morning to discover that Steve wasn’t beside him, that he had gone back to his goddamn morning run.

Steve let go of Bucky’s hand and marched right up to the first guy. “Boy,” he growled, leaning back just ever so slightly and allowing his gut to brush up against the kid’s chest. “I’m not the fightin’ sort, so normally I might just walk away. But you haven’t hurt me, you’ve hurt my Boy. Ain’t that right, Buck?” he called back to where Bucky stood.

“Yessir,” Bucky responded, a little too in awe to say anything more comprehensive.

“Ya see? And that’s just not okay.” Bucky could hear a little of Steve’s indigenous Brooklyn accent sneaking into his voice. “So you apologise to him… right now.” Steve said the last part very slowly, ostensibly so the dickhead could understand.

The Dickhead, of course, did not. He laughed. “Apologise to the twink? No fuckin’ way. I’d rather have my ass beat than apologise to a faggot.”

Steve’s glare darkened, and before the kid could move, he punched him square in the jaw.

“Holy shit!” The third guy exclaimed, and he and the fourth ran off to their beat-up Jeep around the corner. The second still hung around.

“Take him out, Brock. You can move twice as fast as this shithead.”

That turned out to not be true, as Brock rotated his jaw, squared his feet, and swung at Steve. Steve easily dodged Brock’s punch like he could slow down time. While Brock was still catching his balance from his poorly-aimed punch, Steve hit him in the stomach. Brock doubled over and dropped to his knees.

“Apologise,” Steve repeated calmly.

“Fuck you.” Brock spat blood at Steve’s shirt.

Steve grabbed the collar of Brock’s Olive Garden-green work uniform and lifted him up off the ground until their faces were level. “Now that was just plain rude. I don’t have many shirts that fit me, and I really liked this one.” He easily tossed Brock to the side, and his friend scrambled to help him up. He turned back to Bucky, wiping a splatter of blood off his chin. “Still want to eat here, baby?”

Bucky shook his head. “Lost my appetite.” But that wasn’t entirely true; he’d just lost his appetite for anything but Steve.

They silently got back into the car, and an awkward silence hung in the air for a few minutes.

“Buck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have beat him up like that. It’s just that I hate to see goddamn jerks like that. They remind me of bullies when I was little, and couldn’t do nothin’ to protect myself. But I shouldn’t have ruined our dinner, I—“

Bucky wanted to lunge over the centre console and kiss him, but he didn’t feel like a car crash. Instead, he put his hand on Steve’s thick thigh and gripped the extra flesh there. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t lose control. You were perfectly calm, and that asshole got what he deserved. Besides… it was kinda hot.” Bucky added the last part with a whisper, not wanting Steve to think he was twisted for getting off on watching him execute his justice.

Steve didn’t turn his face away from the road, but Bucky saw his lopsided smirk. “Oh yeah? You like your Daddy takin’ care of his pretty little boy?”

Bucky slipped his hand into the tight waistband of Steve’s slacks, where his shirt was tucked in, exacerbating his underbelly. “Fuck, yes,” he whined. He realised that the flesh of Steve’s belly overlapped his waistband, softest part of his gut just starting to sink into a crease.

 “Not here, baby,” Steve insisted, his words contradictory to his actions as he guided Bucky’s hand under his tight, blood-spattered shirt, keeping his right hand on the wheel and steering Bucky’s hand with his left. He took a side road without the turn signal, and a car horn blared behind them. Steve’s breath quickened and blood rushed to both his face and his crotch. He found an abandoned lot and parked the car next to a dumpster, turning off the ignition and reaching over to kiss Bucky in the cramped space of the front seat of their 2013 Camaro.

Bucky quickly undid the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off and feeling Steve’s empty stomach. “It’s so soft like this,” he remarked, not used to the way it felt without being completely full.

Steve grunted in response, reaching around Bucky and cranking the lever of the seat into a reclining position. Steve slid out of his seat and on top of Bucky, and the brunet moaned with the weight of him. “Too much?”

Bucky took Steve’s earlobe between his teeth. “Not enough.”

Steve chuckled, arching his back and pressing the entirety of his belly into Bucky’s flat torso. “This isn’t enough for ya?” Bucky hissed through his teeth, and Steve pulled back to tenderly lift Bucky’s legs over his shoulders. “Gonna fuck you like this baby, while I still can.”

Bucky’s cock jumped in response, the idea that Steve would soon be too big to fuck him facing each other burning in his mind. “Daddy,” he keened, jamming his pants down over his hips. He couldn’t say anything but that word, filling up his whole head, putting all the meaning behind it; Steve, his protector, his lover, his best friend, his “Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

“Shh,” Steve soothed, more of a comfort than an actual request for silence. He smoothed his hand over Bucky’s head and pulled his hair out of his ponytail. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky was suddenly feeling very sensitive and desperate. He didn’t know if it was because of what those dumb fucks had said, and he didn’t want to let them get to him, but he’d learned long ago that dangerous things happened when he tried to deny his emotions, so he just let himself feel, knowing he didn’t need to apologise. Knowing that Steve would always be strong for him when he needed it.

Steve sucked on his own hand, pulling his fingers away from his glistening lips with a small trail of saliva breaking away from the long digits. He wrapped his hand around Bucky’s dick, stroking slowly as Bucky kneaded his lovehandles. They were starting to get big enough that they were more than just a handful; Bucky couldn’t get his whole hand around the layer of fat anymore.

“I love it when I’m inside you, baby. You’re so pretty and fragile and I never want to hurt you, but you take it so well. I love how connected we feel, like every thought ricochets off this world we create for ourselves. I love feeling your perfect body against me. You’re so beautiful, and I want to show you how much you mean to me,” Steve sweet-talked, and Bucky felt like he might melt into the upholstery of the passenger seat.

He knew that although Steve would always support him emotionally, the blond certainly had his insecurities, and he need Bucky to validate his importance. “I love it when you touch me with your big hands. You make me feel so small and safe, like you can tuck me in your arms and keep everything sad away from me. I never want to be without you. I feel like every part of me aches to be lined up with you, like every convex surface of your body matches  every concave plane of mine—fuck!” he exclaimed as Steve brushed his thumb over the slit of his penis, wet with spit from Steve’s hands and drops of precome.

“If you can talk and make that much sense, clearly I ain’t doin’ this right,” Steve remarked with a grin, bending over and taking Bucky’s cock into his mouth.

“Steve… ah, shit… God, that feels so good, Daddy… holy FUCK, yes!”  

Steve deepthroated Bucky, and the brunet couldn’t remember the last time he’d given him such a gift. Although he certainly enjoyed giving Steve head, like bending to his knees in front of his Daddy was the position he was born to be in, the space between Steve’s thighs was the space his head was born to occupy, the feeling of Steve’s mouth swaddling his member was almost better.

Bucky resolved himself to last this time. Steve got him so hot it was a miracle he didn’t come in his pants every time Steve showed signs of being full, which was very often.

A mind-reader as always, Steve pulled off his cock with a pop and muttered a command before returning to his task. “Come whenever you need, Baby.”

Bucky was about to contradict, but the order and meaning of the words he was about to speak was totally lost when Steve licked up the underside of his cock. Steve was incredible with his mouth; both with sweet-talking, reassuring Bucky of his value and right to the happiness Steve could provide him with, and with giving oral. Bucky had no idea what he was doing down there, but it was the type of inexplicable, beautiful intimacy that passed between them that got him fisting his hands in Steve’s hair and screaming out his name like nothing else could.

“I’m gonna… I’m… oh, fuck! D-daddy, I’m c-coming,” he managed to warn, right before he spilled down Steve’s throat.

Steve swallowed and pulled back, flashing Bucky a smile. “I think I prefer that to Olive Garden,” he joked, sliding up to fuck Bucky like he’d promised.

He took off Bucky’s pants as Bucky struggled to slip Steve’s off over his thickening ass, hands shaking. He fingered Bucky open slowly. The brunet was still caught in the high of his orgasm, but his dick somehow managed to get hard again as Steve scissored his fingers into him.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

Almost before he was done speaking, Bucky was begging for it. “Yes, yes, please Daddy, want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

Steve lined up and lowered himself into Bucky, resting himself on his smaller boyfriend. The two of them were nearly entirely joined, and Bucky arched his head up to kiss Steve, completing a beautiful circle of coital embrace.

Bucky could feel Steve’s flesh ripple against him as the blond began to thrust into him, and he slipped his hands into the crease that formed at Steve’s waist when he was face-down like this. Steve held himself up with his arms on either side of Bucky, his belly pushing into Bucky’s torso each time he arched his back.

He rested his head in the place between Bucky’s neck and his shoulder, whispering unintelligible praises and sucking bruises along his collarbone, his new beard aggravating Bucky’s skin.

Bucky gasped and dug his nails into Steve’s fleshy side, marking them up with red lines to join the stretch marks that were already there. Steve hissed at the pain, and Bucky quickly apologised, lightening his grip, but Steve quickened his pace, pounding Bucky into the pavement under the car mercilessly, biting the meat of his shoulder.

Bucky held on as tightly as he dare, pulling them together, needing more, needing every ounce of contact and stimulation he could get, and then Steve reached the brink and tipped over, coming inside of him. The brunet came for the second time, spraying his semen into the crease of Steve’s underbelly where his dick had been pressed in the friction.

Steve leaned down and kissed Bucky, allowing the come on both of them to just remain for a while, and when they finally parted, gasping for air, Bucky found himself saying “I love you” without even deciding too. The words came so naturally to him now that he found himself consciously preventing himself to say it after every sentence he spoke.

They cleaned themselves up with some napkins from the glovebox, and temporarily sated, Steve returned to the driver’s seat. They agreed on a simple drive through, fast and greasy, and Steve ordered more food than what most people would eat in a day. They saved the actual feeding for their apartment, satisfied to check “car” off their ever-growing list of “To Do” places.

Chapter Text

Steve awoke in the middle of the night, which was a rare occurrence for him. The heat of late spring had caused them to open their windows, and Bucky had rolled off him some time during the last hour. Steve glanced at the clock on the nightstand to reveal that it was 1:24 in the morning, and already Saturday the 3^rd of June. The month of May had passed so quickly that everyone at the office was still struggling to remember it was almost summer, if it was not for the weather demanding a change in everyone’s apparel.

Steve tried to go back to sleep, but his stomach rumbled, alerting him of the reason he’d awoken in the first place.

Grateful for once that he didn’t have to detangle his lover from himself to leave the bed, Steve quietly slipped out the side and crept to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and finding the leftovers of some cherry pie. Not wanting to wake Bucky up, he enjoyed his snack as quietly as he could, but soon he felt the smaller man’s arms wrap around him, and he heard Bucky make a small noise of disappointment.

“I can still wrap my arms around you,” the brunet noted, although he still only barely managed to get his fingers to lace around his large boyfriend.

“Not for much longer,” Steve noted, turning around with the pie tin in hand to face Bucky. “Hello. Did I wake you up?”

Bucky shook his head. “I was already awake when you left bed, but I didn’t know if you were going to the bathroom. Bring the pie to bed?”

Steve nodded, following Bucky back to bed. Without communicating, Steve sat up against the headboard, and Bucky took up his customary spot in the blond’s lap, and began feeding him was remained of the pie.

“Bucky,” Steve began with an odd tone in his voice, after a couple slices. “Have you ever considered domming me?” Before Bucky could protest, he continued. “Not permanently—I certainly enjoy you as a sub, but maybe we could just switch things up for a day, just for fun.”

To Steve’s surprised, Bucky agreed. “Sounds fun. Why not?”

“I… really?”

“Sure! I mean, I don’t know how good I’d be, but it sounds like an adventure. Not now, of course… right now I just want to sleep,” he added, taking the empty pie tin from Steve and placing it on the table, brushing some crumbs off the apex of Steve’s gut.

“Oh,” Steve responded, feeling satisfied and full, and slowly falling back to sleep.

Steve had a lunch appointment with Mr. Stark’s personal assistant, Ms. Potts, to discuss the results of New Mexico (very satisfactory), and he returned after a light meal to find Bucky sitting on a recliner in upright position, facing the door. There was a certain air of authority about him that was not uncommon, but just evident enough to make Steve remember their conversation last night.

“Hi, Buck,” Steve greeted uneasily, but underneath his discomfort and nervousness, he was aroused to have his trust in Bucky, and things suddenly felt excited and new.  

“Steve. How was lunch?”

“Good. Mr. Stark’s really… ah… really happy with the outcome.” He began to sweat, scrutinised under the glare of Bucky’s stormy grey eyes.

“That’s great for you, baby, I’m really proud.”

Steve beamed at the praise. “Thanks, I—“

“To your knees.”

Steve felt his face grow hot, and paused for a moment before dropping to his knees.

“Good boy. What did you have for lunch?”

“Um, a BLT.”

“That’s all?”

“And a root beer, and a piece of carrot cake.”

“That’s all?”

“I was with company.”

“Certainly, a man of your…” Steve felt like sucking in his gut, even though he knew that Bucky loved seeing him full and spread out before him. “Size can’t be satisfied with a sandwich and a piece of cake.”

“It’s your fault,” Steve defended, suddenly unaware of what to do with his hands.

Bucky patted his lap. Steve paused for a moment, wondering if it was such a good idea to rest his full weight on Bucky’s lap, but he didn’t want to disobey him. Not yet, at least. He shuffled over to the recliner and sat sideways on the brunet’s lap. Bucky casually adjusted his legs and patted Steve’s still-empty belly. “Right, baby. It’s my fault. It’s just because you’re so good, and I want to reward you…” he brought up a Reese’s peanut-butter cup to Steve’s line of vision. “With sweets. Open up.”

Steve hadn’t snacked on just candy since he was a kid on the holidays. Bucky had prepared an interesting array of chocolates, hard candies, and gummies. After a time, the familiar ache began to fill Steve’s stomach.

Bucky kissed him, licking the sugar off his lips. “You taste good, baby.”

Steve groaned, and began to understand why Bucky enjoyed subbing so much. Relinquishing control to someone else, surrendering completely and trusting Bucky to take care of him, felt the opposite of binding and restricting.

Bucky’s hand drifted down to Steve’s erection, and he pressed his palm into it. “You hard for me?” he whispered, eyes unafraid and unapologetically filled with desire.

“Yes… daddy. I want you to penetrate me… please.” Steve wasn’t very sure how to be, so he pieced together the things that he’d heard Bucky say so many times. Their role reversal, and just the fact that he was playing sub made him proud of himself and his Boy, and this game they were playing.

Bucky growled low in his throat. “Take your shirt off for me, baby.” Steve quickly peeled his button-up off, glad to be free of the constraint the snug shirt had supplied. Bucky spread his hands over the expanse of Steve’s half-full stomach. “You’re getting big, baby. Must be because you’re so good for me.”

“I weighed myself this morning,” Steve cried out as Bucky tweaked one of his puffy nipples.

“Tell me.”

“241.”

“In just one month? You’ll be up to 250 before your birthday.”

“I don’t know, it’s summer. Maybe I should lose some weight, work on my beach body,” Steve teased.

“Fat chance,” Bucky hissed, grabbing Steve’s thick ass. “I want to feel you.”

Steve stood and hastily tore off his pants and underwear as Bucky stood and took off his own jeans. “Bend over the arms of the chair.”

Steve happily did so, his dick throbbing with anticipation. He’d been topped only a few times before, and it had been a long time. “You have such a perfect ass, baby. I don’t know why we haven’t tried this months before.” Bucky rolled on the condom. “You want it slow?”

“No, rough,” Steve gasped out, then cried as he felt Bucky push inside his entrance, no prep.

“Bucky! Fuck,” Steve swore, his anus burning as it adjusted to Bucky’s girth.

“C’mon baby, take it for me. You can do it.”

Steve gritted his teeth, and dug his hands into the side of the couch. Bucky put one hand on his neck and reached around his waist with the other, fondling his rolls.

The condom was pre-lubricated, and soon Bucky’s thrusts began to relax his passage, and the friction became pleasant as Bucky’s cock brushed his prostate. “Jesus… d-Daddy!”

“Don’t come until I say.”

“I c-can’t…” Steve tried to hold it, but he couldn’t, not when Bucky was hitting him right there, over and over. He grabbed the bottom of the chair and whined. “I’m gonna…”

“No. Not yet.”

With a cry, Steve came. He was sorry to disappoint Bucky, but he was sure that as their dynamic was only temporary, the punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

He was wrong.

Bucky pulled out, spinning Steve around and shoving him to the ground. “I said not to come,” he reminded, voice calm as he shoved Steve’s head onto his throbbing dick. “You disobeyed me.”

Steve spluttered, forced to breathe through his nose as he set a pace, bobbing his head and bumping his tummy into Bucky’s knees.

Bucky held his head in place until he came, releasing the blond’s head and coming on his face. He sat down on the floor next to Steve, and licked the come off. “I’m going to have to get the handcuffs,” he sighed.

Steve waited in a state of confusion until Bucky returned, with a blindfold and a few other things additionally. “Don’t speak. Don’t move unless I tell you to. And don’t cry out.” He put the blindfold on Steve, and then tied his wrists loosely behind his back. Steve could have slipped one hand out of the cuff if he wanted.

“They’re too loose.”

Bucky kneed Steve in the back, but before his head hit the carpet, Bucky caught him with an arm under his chest and lowered him to the floor. “Don’t speak,” he repeated, tightening the cuffs. “Count to ten. Slowly.”

Steve was getting hard again already, but he forced that to the back of his mind. “One.”

Bucky’s hand came down on his ass, and he felt the flesh quiver, rippling from his behind, down to his thick thighs, over the rolls of fat on his back and over his stomach. He gasped, but not out of pain.

“Keep counting.”

“Two.”

Bucky’s hand came down, harder than the last time, but still not painful. He could hear Bucky’s breath quicken.

“Three.”

The area Bucky continued to hit began to tingle.

“Four.”

The tingle turned into a sting, and Steve hissed.

“Five.”

Bucky had used the same amount of pressure on the last few hits, and Steve knew that Bucky wouldn’t hit him any harder, reminding him that their game was still a game.

“Okay?” Bucky whispered, checking in, even though Steve hadn’t spoken the safeword.

“Six,” he replied, wanting Bucky to going on, knowing that he should have just held out for a few moments more.

The hit came, and in three more numbers, it was over, and Bucky untied the handcuffs. “Get up, and I’ll blow you.”

Steve took off his blindfold. “I’m sorry I came early.”

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He cupped Steve’s cheek, brushing his cheekbone with his thumb. “You look so pretty kneeling there, with your belly in your lap.”

Steve looked down to realise it was true. “I’m getting fat, huh?”

“Getting?” Bucky smirked and patted over his navel. “I would say you’re there, baby.”

“You know, I am kind of hungry.”

Bucky chuckled. “Again or still?”

Steve shrugged. “I can’t really tell.”

Bucky gestured to the chair, left for the kitchen, and returned a moment later with a pint of ice cream. Steve’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at it to see there was a text from Thor. Hey, Steve! Loki and I were thinking of taking a trip down to D.C. early next month to hit up some of the restaurants and experience Capital City for the 4^th. Maybe the four of us can hang out!

Along with a growing list of things, Steve pushed that to the back of his mind to focus on Bucky.

Steve moved to get off the recliner, but Bucky put a hand on his chest and kept him down, straddling his lap. “Back to normal?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. “Sorry I wasn’t a very good dom.”

“No, you were perfect, baby,” Steve soothed, running a hand through Bucky’s long hair and giving him a kiss. “I had fun. I’m not meant to be a sub, and you’re not meant to be a dom. Did you enjoy it?”

Bucky smiled, handing him the pint. “Yeah, although I like bottoming for you better. It was an adventure, and I’m glad I got to see that side of our relationship.” Steve took the carton and tipped his head back, freeing Bucky’s hands to explore his growing convexity. “I prefer you as Daddy.” Bucky began kneading the uncomfortable tightness where Steve began to grow full, helping him finish the pint. “Full now?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, baby.”

Bucky moaned and wiggled on his lap. “If I could pick one moment to replay forever, this would be it.”

Steve laughed. “What, in the ragged recliner of my cramped apartment?”

Bucky smirked and smacked his gut. “You’d fit better if you weren’t so fat.”

Steve pulled Bucky down into a kiss. “I have a feeling that won’t happen with you here.”

Chapter Text

“So how should I dress for this place? Nice-nice or nice?”

“Nice-nice,” Steve’s voice came from the bathroom.

Bucky chuckled happily, adding the last touch to his outfit and waiting at the threshold for Steve to turn around.

He was presented with the sight of Steve struggling to fit into an old suit. Bucky put his hands over Steve’s and grinned at the two of them in the mirror. “As appealing as watching you break the button on those slacks would be, I think you’d better fit into something that has a bit more room for dinner.”

Steve grimaced. “I know, my other suit will be ready for pick up in fifteen minutes. I was just hoping…”

“Hoping to what? Fit in the suit you haven’t worn since late June? Too many barbecues since then.”

“There’s just so many options! And I can never decide between hamburgers, hotdogs, grilled chicken, spare ribs…”

Bucky gripped his love handles, or what he lovingly nicknamed the ‘spare tire’, where all those spare ribs were disappearing to. “And I love watching you not have to make a choice.”

Steve spun around and his eyes lit up with delight. “You’re wearing the cufflinks!”

Bucky had been all too happy to find an opportunity to show off the star-spangled accessories. “Just reminding Thor and Loki that I’m yours.”

“Down, boy,” Steve joked. “There’s nothing to worry about. No more accidental belly pics.”

Bucky pouted. “Speaking of, you never send me any.”

“Bucky, we live together. You don’t need pictures.”

“But I want them. Then we can compare how much you’ve grown.” He patted Steve’s gut, round and just beginning to teardrop in shape. “We haven’t weighed you since, what, early June? It’s been a month.” He eyed the scale in the corner.

Steve smirked. “Sure. Really make me think just about why this suit doesn’t fit.” He gave up, shrugging the jacket off and moving over to the scale.

“Well?” Bucky asked excitedly when he heard it beep.

“Uh…” Steve shifted uneasily for a moment.

“What?!” Bucky snapped, impatient.

“I… can’t see.”

Bucky giggled with glee, peering around his huge boyfriend. “Fuck, Daddy.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to wonder. “Well?”

“258.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Bucky replied, popping the p. “Want me to take a picture on your phone so you can see?” he asked sweetly.

“Want me to spank you so hard you can’t sit easy for a week?”

“Yes. I can’t believe you gained 20 pounds in just over a month.”

“You’re rounding up. It’s 17.”

“Well, we were right about you being over 250 before your birthday.” He kissed Steve on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

“Not until tomorrow,” Steve whined. “Which tie, American flag or fireworks?”

“Fireworks. And turn on the LED. You can wear the American flag one when we go to that buffet with Thor and Logan.”

“Loki.”

“Yeah, him. Want me to pick up your suit for you now?”

Steve blew him a kiss as he wriggled out of his slacks. “Yes, thank you baby.”

“’Yes, thank you baby’,” Bucky mocked harmlessly.

He returned a few minutes later with the suit, and it fit Steve flawlessly, with some extra room around the waist for dinner.

“Ready?”

Bucky had never been to a nice place in his life. He waited for a moment in the foyer while Steve checked their reservation, and he took in the wainscoting, the four crystal chandeliers, the couple arriving in a limousine who looked like they could be actual royalty. “Steve, this is nice,” Bucky whispered when he returned to his side. “I feel kind of bad that you’re taking me out for your birthday, even if it is your—“

Steve hushed him before he could continue. “Nonsense. I’m your boss, anyway. All our money is the same money. We’re, on the balcony, baby,” Steve added as Bucky started to head toward the main hall.

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “The balcony?” he repeated. The waiter opened the French doors for them and read Steve the wine list.  The sun had set a few moments ago, and the sky was clear and Bucky could make out the summer constellations. They had the entire balcony to themselves, and a few fireworks could be seen in the distance. “Steve,” Bucky breathed, but the words he had in mind were stuck there.

Steve pulled out his chair for him. “I know.”

“You’re not going to propose, are you?” Bucky joked.

“Uh,” Steve froze.

“Shit, you were? I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was what you wanted—“ Bucky covered.

“N-no, I don’t. I mean, not that I don’t want it. I wasn’t going to. You just… made me think maybe I should.”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, I don’t really see a point to it. I don’t plan to leave you, and I don’t need a piece of paper that says it, or a big ceremony with cake. Although,” his eyes dropped to Steve’s lap “Cake might be nice. But not in public. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if that’s enough.”

Steve looked like he was about to melt. “Any moment with you would be more than enough. I love you too, and I couldn’t imagine any other place I’d rather be than where you are.”

“Christ, Steve, you’re gonna make me get my tie all wet.”

Steve chuckled and beckoned the waiter over, ordering their dinners.

When they were done with their main courses but had not yet ordered dessert, Steve pushed back his chair and stood, offering his hand to Bucky. “Care to dance?”

“There’s no music,” Bucky began, but before he had finished, a violinist emerged from the stairwell, playing La Vie en Rose. Bucky took his hands and Steve pulled him close, the fullness of his belly pressing into the brunet’s torso. “I can’t wait to get you out of that suit,” he whispered after a moment or two of dancing.

Steve immediately blushed and signalled the waiter. “We’ll take dessert in our room.”

“Room?” Bucky inquired.

Steve grinned. “That’s the second part of the surprise. We’re staying at the bed and breakfast here. Unless you’d rather go home.” They followed the waiter down the hall to suite #2.

“No, no, no, no, by all means,” Bucky disagreed quickly while they entered the room, taking in the king-sized bed, hot tub Jacuzzi, and private balcony. What is it with this hotel and balconies? He took a step out, and found that this side of the hotel overlooked a pool. “Steve, a pool!” he exclaimed. He hadn’t gone swimming for so long he couldn’t remember the last time.

“Do you want to go swimming before dessert?”

Bucky nearly decided to stay in their room, but he was stuck with the sudden image of Steve in swim trunks. “Absolutely. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Steve picked up the phone, ordering two swim suits (“Medium and 2XL, please”), since they’d left theirs at home. Room service was very quick, and soon, Bucky was admiring Steve squeeze his ass into the white, hotel-monogrammed trunks. His belly lapped the front, hiding the drawstring, and Bucky really wanted to bite it. “Ready?” Steve asked, despite the fact that Bucky was standing naked in the bathroom.

“Oh… um, almost.” Bucky shook himself out of his daydream and stepped into his own swim suit.

For once, Steve was staring at Bucky. The brunet felt uncomfortable for a moment, before Steve pulled him close for a passionate kiss. “You look fucking amazing. I don’t tell you enough, but I love how you look.”

Bucky beamed, and yeah, he was pretty proud of how he looked. He had stressed out about himself at the St. Patty’s Day party a little, but all the positivity he was putting into Steve was starting to rub off on him. Steve had always been the one who looked like he was carved from marble, but Bucky wasn’t a weakling, either. He was never as much a fan of exercise as Steve was, but he managed to maintain a slim figure, strong muscles and arms with just a small layer of pudge blurring his chin and abs that always lingered, and he was okay with that. “You too, Daddy.” He took Steve’s hand, and they left their room and took the elevator down to the pool.

It was heated, with mood lighting under the water that made it look like a dream, small wisps of steam rising in the cool summer night air lit up with different colours. All the other patrons of the hotel had gone to bed, and they had the whole pool to themselves. Bucky stepped slowly into the shallow end, all caution and precision. Steve went for the diving board, and his extra pounds did nothing to inhibit his diving abilities. He swam underwater to Bucky, and before the brunet could move, snuck between his legs and launched him into the water off his shoulders.

Bucky surfaced and splashed Steve in complaint. “No dunking!” he protested.

Steve chuckled and lifted him out of the water, and Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist under his belly, hanging on like morning dew on a blade of grass. They made out for a while in the warm water, steam curling slowly around them. When Bucky was too turned on to wait any longer, he informed Steve he was ready for dessert.

They raced to the end of the pool, Steve winning by a hand length, and then crawled out (Steve’s belly brushing against the edge of the pool as he lifted himself out on strong arms), towelling themselves off and padding back into the hotel, leaving wet footprints on the tiles of the lobby floor.

When they returned to their room, a small cart was waiting outside their door. Steve lifted the covers to the trays. “Chocolate mousse pie? Cherry cheesecake? Crème brulee?” With a flourish, he held the last tray before Bucky. “Red-white-and-blue macaroons?”

Bucky was already stripping off his clothes and filling the bathtub. “Why choose?”

Steve lifted an eyebrow. “More water?”

“A bath,” Bucky replied, feigning innocence. “You know, to wash off the chlorine.”

Steve handed him a glass of champagne with a smirk that said he saw right through him. “To our not-neymoon.”

“To our not-neymoon.” He glanced at the clock. “And happy birthday.”

Steve took off his clothes, joining Bucky in the hot tub. “Must you remind me?”

Bucky was instantly drawn to Steve’s belly, and he rested a plate of chocolate mousse on it, giving him a kiss. “You look better than ever.”

Steve grinned, accepting the forkful of pie Bucky gave him. “You too, baby.”

After a good portion of the dessert was gone, Steve’s stomach was packed full and larger than Bucky had ever seen it.

“Thanks for this, Daddy. This was really nice.”

“You deserve it, baby boy.”

“I wanna give you something in return,” Bucky hummed, his eyes fixed on Steve’s distended tummy.

Steve smirked and heaved himself to the edge of the tub. “A birthday blowjob would be nice.”

Bucky was all too happy to comply, and a half hour later, the two of them were curled up in the luxurious comforters of the king bed, Bucky’s hands all over Steve’s waist. “Best 30 year old I know.”

He thought Steve was asleep, but he heard a grumpy shush from the blond.

“I think they’re here,” Bucky alerted Steve. He was facing the door, and a large, Scandinavian blond and a pale, ominous man accompanied him. Steve turned and faced the couple.

“Thor!” Steve exclaimed, a smile spreading across his chubby face.

“Steve!” Thor returned, giving him an outrageous hug and even managing to lift him off the floor. He pulled back, grinning at his midsection. “I see Bucky took the news well!” He gave Bucky, who was standing just behind Steve, a knowing smile. “You’re taking good care of him.”

Bucky extended a hand, but Thor swept him up in a hug as well. “It’s nice to meet you, Thor, I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

“And you!” He returned, before angling himself toward his spouse. “And allow me to introduce Loki, my dear husband.”

Loki smiled in a way that made Bucky squirm, and his hand was cold. “Pleasure,” he purred.

Bucky nodded and quickly let go, glad to be rid of the man’s touch.

Steve shook his hand, and Loki’s smile was a little too predatory for comfort. “My,” he commented, patting Steve’s side with the hand that wasn’t busy. “You’ve caught up to Thor in no time. He says when he met you, you had just a starter belly.”

Bucky was unused to someone other than Steve and himself discussing his gain. “Yes, perhaps we’d better sit,” he interrupted. As he slid into the booth, Loki caught his eye, and his green eyes twinkled. Bucky was beginning to get a sour feeling in his stomach.

Steve and Thor were already deeply engaged in conversation, and Bucky was trying to listen, but Loki kept staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“I say, Steve,” Loki began as he took a sip of water. “You must be up to, what, 115 kilos now?” Bucky felt his face grow hot with anger, and he stared at his lap, trying to ignore the way Loki was trying to catch his eye again. “Oh, I forgot, standard measurements. That’s about 254 pounds.”

“Just around 260, actually,” Steve answered, and Bucky nudged him sharply under the table.

“Ah, how nice. My Thor just broke 300.” A competitive edge snuck into Loki’s voice.

“Congratulations,” Steve replied, a note of confusion in his voice.

“Loki,” Thor said quietly. “We’re all friends here, it’s—“

Loki put his hand up in a dominant gesture, instantly silencing Thor. “But I say, you certainly seem like you can put it away. I wonder who could eat more?”

Bucky didn’t know what he had to prove by pitting Thor and Steve against each other, but he began to feel his competitive, jealous side sneak up on him. “Thor might be larger, but I think Steve’s gained faster,” he began.

“Bucky, what are you do—“

“You think Steve could beat Thor at an eating competition?” Loki scoffed.

It was too late for Bucky to back down. “Yes. I do,” he shot back, and just then, he realised that was what Loki wanted to prove, for some twisted reason. He slid out of the booth. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he muttered to Steve before quickly turning. He felt stupid for letting the snake get to him, and he volunteered Steve for some child’s contest before asking his consent, against a friend, no less.

Moments after he shut himself in the stall, Steve knocked on the door. “You okay in there, Buck?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind an eating contest with Thor, but it felt like there was some sinister undercurrent between you and Loki.”

Bucky sighed. “I know, I don’t know why I let him get under my skin. I acted like a child.”

“I know emotions are powerful and hard to explain sometimes. You’ve taught me not to berate myself just for feeling something I can’t prevent. Please let me return the favour.”

Bucky opened the stall, letting Steve inside. “I feel silly.”

“Nonsense. Loki was obviously trying to get me and Thor to compete. I don’t know what his deal is, but—“

Just then, Thor came into the bathroom with an exasperated look on his face. “I’m so sorry about Loki. He doesn’t do well with new people sometimes. We’re working on it. Perhaps we could try again? He’s promised to behave.”

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look. Bucky didn’t really want to, but he understood that first impressions weren’t always right, and he was willing to give the man a second chance. He nodded, and Steve gave Thor a bright smile. “Sure.” On their way back to the table, things were awkwardly silent for a moment, but then Steve spoke. “So… do you think you can eat more than me?”

Thor laughed. “I’m willing to find out!”

The waiter came by, and the four of them ordered the buffet. Steve and Thor went up for round one of their contest, and Bucky and Loki were left alone for a moment. Bucky was about to speak, but Loki broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly Bucky could hardly hear him over the noise of the restaurant. “I’m a bit of a brute. When I meet new people, I just botch everything up… I’m so afraid of what they’ll think of me, you know? I go over the top, and I just wish I could shut up and not be so spiteful…” he paused, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Never mind. I’m probably not making any sense.” He flicked his gaze up, and gave a very sad smile. Bucky could grow to like this sincere side of him.

“I actually know just what you’re talking about. I might not react in the same way you do, but I have trouble meeting new people too. I suppose I overcompensate sometimes. But you don’t have to be harsh and provocative, you know? You don’t have to try. I’m sure who you are is lovely, without having to entertain or command.”

Loki seemed very relieved that Bucky could relate. “It is exhausting being in control. I’m never quite sure if I’m doing it right. Thor deserves so much, and sometimes I wonder if I’m not the right person to give that to him.”

“Well, you love him, right?” Bucky’s question was met with an adamant nod. “I wouldn’t worry too much about if you’re right for him or not. Just enjoy the time with him that you have now, and try to do the best you can. If you’re doing that, you’re giving him everything you have, and that’s commendable by any standards.”

Loki smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that’s had such an impact on my life as quickly as you have.”

Bucky blushed. “I’m glad to meet you too, Loki.”

Thor and Steve returned, laughing a little.

“You two decided to get along!” Thor commented.

Loki grinned. “We’re a stronger power together than apart.”

Bucky and him went up next to get their own meals, and when they returned, Thor and Steve were already halfway finished with their own first plates.

“Pace yourself, Daddy,” Bucky encouraged, flushing a little when he realised he called him daddy in public.

Thor and Loki didn’t flinch, though, too absorbed in their own battle. Thor finished first, immediately going up for a second plate. Steve shovelled the last few pieces of sweet and sour chicken into his mouth with his fork, and then vacated the booth with a laugh.

It was just a contest between friends, but Bucky could feel his adrenaline rising. After the third plate, Steve undid his pants button. Thor began to fall behind, fetching his fourth while Steve was already halfway through his. Loki muttered soft praises into his ear, and although he’d certainly slowed down, he was still going steadily. After Steve’s fifth plate, he started in on dessert, returning with fried doughnuts, jello, and green tea ice cream. By his second plate of dessert (seventh total) he looked absolutely undone, panting, eyes heavy lidded, shirt straining and legs spread to accommodate the dip of his gut. Thor looked up from his fifth plate and gave a tired smile.

“I concede,” he said, pushing his plate forward.

Loki smiled and kissed him. “You did so good, baby. I’m so proud.”

Even though he was triumphant, Steve looked rather sick. Bucky had never seen him eat so much food before, ever, and he was wondering if he’d overdone it. Thor, as the loser, insisted on picking up the cheque, and soon they were wishing each other a happy 4^th of July and promising to meet again before they left town.

Bucky called an Uber back to their apartment, and Steve managed to pull himself together for the ride back home, but when he got into their building, it was clear he was in pain.

Bucky pressed a hand on Steve’s dome of a belly in the elevator, feeling how tight it was. “Are you okay?”

Steve smiled, but it was forced, and Bucky knew that he must be feeling really miserable. It reminded Bucky that this particular fetish was potentially harmful to his partner, and while 260 wasn’t unhealthily large for someone as muscular and strong as Steve, if he continued at this pace, his health might be in jeopardy soon, and Bucky felt responsible.

He took Steve to the couch and helped him take off his clothes, and fetched him some ginger ale and a Tums. He was mildly surprised that he wasn’t even turned on by how wrecked Steve looked, but the nervous sloshing in his stomach prevented anything of that nature, and he took a Tums himself despite having eaten only two plates of food.

A few hours later, Steve awoke from his nap, and the colour had returned to his face.

“Feeling better?”

Steve nodded. “Damn pride. Should have stopped at six.”

Of course he would blame himself first. Bucky frowned. “No, Steve, it was my fault entirely. I got you into that mess, and it was my pride that had to make sure you won. I always push you too far, make you eat another plate, or have another slice of cake…”

Steve sat up, cupping Bucky’s face. “How long have you been feeling this way?” He was answered with a shrug. “You should’ve told me, Baby. Don’t keep bad thoughts like this to yourself. Don’t feel bad, okay? You’re not forcing me to do anything. I like this just as much as you do, I promise. I’m happy. And I won, anyhow. It was my own silly fault I got a stomach ache, and a little nap and I’m just fine, really.”

Bucky felt foolish again. “I don’t want to watch you get hurt. I don’t always know how to take care of you, and I know you’re not great at being good to yourself.”

Steve gestured at the blanket on his lap and the bottle of Tums on the coffee table. “You take care of me just fine, Baby. Thank you. I love taking care of you when I can, and I know you’ll always take care of me when I need it. If this is stressing you out, we can stop, okay? I can lose some weight, just twenty pounds or so, or I can stay here. We don’t have to go full speed all the time.”

Bucky nodded.

“Yeah? You want that? Use your words, baby.”

“I mean, I don’t want to stop. I love this, of course. But we have to think of your health.”

Steve held back a laugh. “Are you worried about my health? I had a doctor’s appointment last week, you know.” Bucky didn’t know. He was shopping with Natasha at the time. “The doctor was a little shocked to see me seventy pounds heavier than when he last knew me, but I’m fine. My blood pressure, cholesterol, all that, is fine. I spent so much time worrying about being unfit before, but now that I am bigger, it hardly impacts my health. If it ever starts to, I promise you, I’ll stop.”

Bucky smiled. A huge weight had been lifted off his chest. Steve always managed to cheer him up and give him comfort. “That’s… really good to hear.”

“You should have told me if you were worrying.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m always worrying.”

Steve pulled him into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around him, beard tickling his cheek. “Worry less. I’ve got you, just like I promised, okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky breathed in Steve’s scent, peaches and sandalwood. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Bucky’s stomach had apparently decided it was done being nervous, and Steve’s partially digested lunch was settling nicely in his stomach, making for the perfect combination of soft and firm. His obstinate libido was all too happy to not be supressed by guilt anymore, and he kissed Steve, losing himself in the pressure of their lips. He allowed his mind to empty, and whenever a negative thought tried to creep into his mind, he chanted over and over I deserve this. I deserve this.

Steve leaned back, letting Bucky lay on him, stretching out luxuriously on the sofa. His belly, unaffected by gravity, rose from his chest like a small hill that Bucky built his home on. He thought about all the turmoil of his youth, and how uncertain his future had felt when he was young. Looking on his life in reverse, he felt that every choice he’d ever made was pointing for this one moment of perfect unity. He was holding on to Steve with every part of himself, literally and figuratively, and he knew Steve would never let him down. Steve’s appearance had changed into an exact metaphor for how Bucky saw his soul, and waking up every morning and seeing Steve beside him was like seeing him for the person he was always meant to be. It was such a metaphysical emotion, to know someone precisely at the time you were meant to know them.

“I’m so glad you got drunk at that office party and told me you liked me,” Steve said, and it was funny how well his thoughts were lining up with everything Bucky was experiencing.

“I’m so glad you let yourself eat those goddamn macaroons at the office party.” He was more in love with Steve than he’d even felt ever before.

“Me too.”