Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

Steve is waiting.

He hates to admit that it’s with any actual anxiety or trepidation, but he’s been waiting for this divorce to be done for months. He finally got the call earlier today. Peggy would sign with her lawyer and then the papers would be couriered to Steve to sign with his own. All civilized and official.

All their assets and the life they tried to build together would be divided and dissolved, respectively.

Great.

Except the papers should have arrived by now. He can see it by the way his lawyer keeps checking her watch. Sighing, Steve presses the intercom on his desk. "Ms. Chavez, could you please—"

"Sorry, Captain Rogers, there’s just been...a delay."

"What? Why?"

"The envelope went to the mail room instead of straight to me. The clerk is trying to find it."

"What do you mean they’re trying to find it? You know what, I’ll do it myself." He stands, picking up his jacket and putting it back on from where he’d draped it on his chair. He marches out, hesitating only briefly at America’s desk.

Blessedly, she points. "East side of the building, second floor."

Second floor. Steve can’t remember the last time he was on the second floor. His lawyer stares after him. "I can’t sit and wait for it another second. I’ll be right back."

This is good, walk off some of the extra energy, get the papers, it’s fine. Mistakes happen. Steve’s not unreasonable.

He takes the elevator down, and then follows the convenient signs posted for MAIL ROOM.

He’s not quite expecting what he sees when he goes in. A man—maybe 22? 23?—cursing wildly to himself as he holds a piece of cardboard and tries to fan...a drenched stack of papers, stained with brown coffee marks.

The man is, quite simply, a disaster; there is coffee all down the front of his button-up shirt and the crotch of his slacks, and Steve spots a puddle of it spreading over the edge of the desk, where the papers caught the brunt of it.

There's a venti Starbucks coffee cup lying on its side on the floor, coffee pooling into the carpet.

"Fuck!" he cries, giving up on the cardboard and attacking the papers with a wadded up ball of tissues. He hasn’t noticed Steve yet. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, you idiot, you goddamn fool, aw, fuck me—"

Steve's eyes narrow at him as he steps over the threshold, draws himself up to his full height and clears his throat.

The man startles, jumping up, eyes going wide as he takes in all of Steve. "Shit! You scared me."

Pursing his lips, unimpressed, Steve points to the sign on the wall that reads NO LIQUIDS very clearly. "Might help if you paid attention to the rules of your workplace," he says coldly. "I was expecting an urgent letter. Addressed to Steve Rogers."

The man's face goes pale. "Uh," he says, and his gaze darts to the desk, where the wet papers lie. "I, uh, I did receive it, yes. I think."

"You think," Steve repeats. He walks over and starts to peel apart coffee-stained mail.

"It was an accident," he says defensively. "I'm sorry, mister—"

"Captain," snaps Steve. He hasn't actually wanted anyone to call him that in a while, but it just comes out as his anger and frustration builds. "Captain Steve Rogers. Your name?"

"James. James Barnes."

Steve spots the sealed envelope plastered in between several other documents just as Barnes gives his name. The ink on the envelope is smeared and with hands that he absolutely refuses to let shake, he opens it and pulls out the thick agreement within. It's ruined. Utterly and completely. Peggy's signature is a smeared blob and the words are illegible. The whole thing will have to be reprinted and resigned.

"Listen, Captain, I'm sorry I—" begins Barnes.

Steve can't hear it. He can't deal with this right now. He turns stiffly around. "Stop talking. Collect your things. You're fired."

Barnes entire face falls. "But it was one mistake, it was just—"

"Are you deaf as well as unable to read clear instructions posted on the wall?" snaps Steve, pointing at the NO LIQUIDS sign again. "You're fired, Barnes. Go collect your things and turn in your badge."

Barnes's lip gives a distinct wobble, but then he squares his shoulders and looks Steve directly in the eyes. "You're a real prick, you know that?" he says, voice only trembling a little before he turns and marches out of the room.

Steve stares after him before he departs himself, bringing the ruined pages of the contract back upstairs. His lawyer will have to deal with this.

And ultimately, it's fine.

Embarrassing, sure, but neither Peggy nor her lawyer make a fuss. They don't demand anything extra, the deal remains fair and the marriage remains ended. In the end, Steve is a dick to someone who maybe didn't quite deserve it, and he's still divorced.

Pepper contacts him later in the day, beginning the conversation with, "Did you fire a mail clerk?"

"Sure did," drawls Steve, because he is drained, and while there is a small part of him that feels a bit bad for the severity of his reaction, he feels it was justified. "He spilled coffee all over the mail he was supposed to be sorting, directly in front of the sign telling him he wasn't allowed to have liquids in the room."

"And what were you doing in the mail room, Steve?" asks Pepper evenly. "I didn't think you even knew where it was."

"I was getting a piece of mail that should have gone directly to America," says Steve. "My divorce papers."

There is a long pause. "Ah," says Pepper. "Ruined?"

"Ruined," confirms Steve.

"I'm not very happy. Barnes is the fourth person to either quit or be fired from that position."

"So he hadn't been there for long," says Steve.

"About two months."

"Then I'll find you a new one, and you won't even notice," says Steve dismissively. "I'll get America to recommend someone."

Pepper sighs noisily. "Next time, call me first, please."

"Promise," says Steve. They hang up, he finishes his day, goes home, orders dinner, and falls asleep on the couch.

America recommends someone else, and Pepper is happy. Life moves on. Steve tells himself if that job has been vacated three times before Barnes, it's probably not that great to begin with, and Barnes would have quit eventually anyway.

And then he stops telling himself anything about it because he forgets.

A month after his divorce, Steve gets up early on a Sunday and takes a look around his penthouse. He moved after they separated, bought all new furniture, hired a decorator, the works. But it doesn't change the fact that it's empty except for Steve. He scowls at his living room and then turns back to his room to get dressed. There are some things he can work on at the office. Might as well.

The only really bad thing about working on Sundays is that he refuses to make America come in on the weekends. She deserves days off even if he's a workaholic. So he has to fend for himself, which includes getting coffee. That's fine. There's at least three Starbucks locations between his penthouse and the office, and he could do with a walk today.

His phone dings as he pushes into the Starbucks closest to his home, and he drags it out of his pocket to check the message.

Tony: jarvis said you weren't at home
Steve: why are you having jarvis check up on me
Tony: i just wanted to see if you were up for dinner. pepper is asking.
Steve: maybe. busy today.
Tony: doing what?

"Can I help you, sir?" asks a familiar voice, interrupting Steve's train of thought.

He looks up and realizes he's made it to the front of the line. Staring at him is James Barnes.

Oh. Oh, this is awkward.

Steve clears his throat to buy a moment to process this entire situation, because—

For all that a job as a mailroom clerk was probably not great, Barnes would have been salaried, with benefits, because that is how Stark Industries works. There are no contract workers, temps, or part time employees.

And here is Barnes, at Starbucks. Part time shifts, shit pay...

Steve did this. Steve made this happen.

Barnes is staring right back at him, lips pursed, face red. With embarrassment? Anger? "Sir," he says tightly. "Can I take your order?"

"Sorry," Steve says crisply, and he's not sure if he's apologizing for the situation or his absent-mindedness. "Venti, dark roast, please."

"Coming right up," says Barnes. He has not stopped staring at Steve, all through ringing him up, scrawling something furiously on the cup, and then handing it off.

As Steve takes his change, he puts it into the tip jar, and then adds a twenty dollar bill on top of it.

Barnes flicks a scornful gaze at it, and mutters, "Course you would," as Steve moves down the bar.

Steve takes a breath and waits—patiently—for his coffee.

"Captain Rogers?" calls the other barista after a short time.

Steve cringes. "Yeah, thanks," he sighs, taking the drink and with one last backwards glance, he hurries away.

It's fine. Barnes is an adult. He made a choice which cost him his job. That's not Steve's fault.

Four days later, he leaves the office midday to grab something to eat and clear his head with a walk again. He heads straight for his favorite diner where the cheeseburgers and shakes are as big as his head. Comfort food is what he needs. He's being led to a booth toward the back when he sees Barnes, who is drinking a water and eating what looks like a kids meal of a plain small cheeseburger and a tiny portion of fries.

He lifts his gaze immediately from Barnes's plate, but it's too late. Barnes sees him seeing it and scowls in his direction.

Steve swears he's not sure why he does it, but he turns to the hostess and says, "I'm going to join my friend instead," and then he drops into the booth across from Barnes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" snaps Barnes.

The hostess puts the menu down in front of Steve and walks away without a word. Steve doesn't blame her.

"Joining you."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

The waitress chooses then to walk up. She looks unsure, glancing between them, but Steve just says, "I'd like 2 #2s with chili cheese fries and two chocolate shakes, and you can take this away," and he picks up Bucky's plate and hands it over to the waitress along with a crisp $50 he pulls from his wallet.

She stares at him while Bucky looks on in shock, but then seems to decide she doesn't want any part of whatever argument is about to happen. She takes the plate and the $50 bill and leaves.

"You have GOT to be kidding me. What the hell is WRONG with you?" hisses Bucky.

"I'm buying you lunch."

"I had lunch."

"Didn't look very good. If you're going to eat here, you should enjoy it."

Barnes's expression collapses into a singularity of barely-restrained rage. He's a good looking kid, strong jaw, big blue eyes, the kind of soft, pouty mouth that probably drives girls wild.

Of course, he also looks seconds away from throwing himself across the booth and choking Steve out, but Steve's always been into murderous lookers.

Not that he's doing this to hit on Barnes. He's not really sure why he's doing this. Guilt, maybe.

"You that fucking clueless?" demands Barnes. "You always just throw money around when you feel bad? Help you sleep at night?"

"I don't feel bad," says Steve shortly.

"You tipped twenty bucks," says Barnes. "Now you're buying me lunch? After you fired me? What else would this be, besides totally oblivious pity? What, you realized I'm broke, and you're gonna buy me off?"

"Pretty sure I can't buy you off with a diner lunch," says Steve evenly.

"No fucking shit," snaps Barnes.

"James, was it?" asks Steve, ignoring his sputtering anger.

Barnes glares at him. "You fired me. You should know."

"Clever," says Steve. "You always that good with your mouth?"

And okay, that's...over the line. But it's not as if he can get in trouble for sexual harassment. Barnes isn't his employee anymore and he's fully capable of walking away if he wants to. He hasn't even paid for his lunch yet, it would be no loss to him.

Barnes just goes instantly red, bright and burning, his mouth snapping shut as he glares at Steve.

"Guess not," says Steve with a shrug. "Maybe you should just sit there and enjoy the food like a good boy."

Steve knows he's being a dick. He knows he is, but...he just can't seem to help himself.

"You're such an asshole," seethes Barnes, crossing his arms. "I don't understand. Does this get you off? Nice power trip for you?"

"Not really about the power or getting off. I saw you, and I wanted to join you, so I did. I've made a good career out of following my instincts," says Steve with a shrug. "I'm going to sit here and enjoy a meal with you."

Barnes's jaw works a moment and then he sits back and turns away from Steve, staring out the window without a word. Steve lets him sulk for as long as he wants, until finally Barnes turns his attention back to Steve. "Fine. You want to buy me lunch? Be my guest. But I don't forgive you and I don't like you."

"Good thing I didn't ask for either of those things, and I don't care," says Steve, shrugging.

The waitress arrives, then, with their platters and shakes, laying everything out on the table, and Barnes snaps his gaze to the food in front of him with clear interest.

For a moment, he doesn't move, staring down at the fully loaded cheeseburger and chilli cheese fries and the chocolate shake. Then something in him seems to break, and he dives in, eating with the kind of controlled hunger of the truly ravenous.

Steve doesn't comment, tucking into his own food at a much more sedate pace. Barnes is struggling, then, financially. He doesn't have a lot of money, if what he'd ordered was a good indication of the kind of cash he had to spare.

Well, and the comment that he's broke.

Steve still wouldn't say he's guilty, but he also doesn't like to see someone struggle. Especially when Steve has an overabundance of...everything. Regardless, he doesn't think Barnes's pride could take much more of Steve today.

When the server comes around again, Steve pays the bill, tips generously and says, "Thanks for sharing that meal with me, James."

Barnes stares back and then gets up. "Okay. See you...hopefully never again."

He walks out, and Steve lets him go without comment. He probably won't see Barnes again. He's certainly not going to choose to return to the Starbucks he works at, and he doubts he'll be seeing Barnes at his usual dining establishments. So...that's that.

And it is until that weekend.

Saturday night, Steve goes with Sam to take clients out. He hates doing this and usually leaves it to Sam to manage, but these are especially big clients who want to be wowed. So the Vice President of Design gets dragged along.

About three hours in, the clients are drunk, and Sam has them well in hand. He leans over to Sam. "Think they'd notice if I left?"

Sam snorts. "Nah, they're more than occupied. Get out of here. I know you're hating every second of this."

Steve pats Sam on the back and gets up from their VIP booth. He heads to the bathroom, planning to escape after that.

It's a good plan, except on his way to the exit, he spots Barnes at the bar down in the main part of the club. He’s wearing tight black pants and a tight black t-shirt and he looks...good. Steve gravitates toward him before he can even bother to question himself.

Barnes has a drink in hand, and he's leaning over the bar, flirting with the bartender as he takes a sip. There's a guy leaning up alongside him at the bar, broad across the shoulders, with dark hair and a scruffy chin, strong brow and jaw.

He's got the kind of look on his face that Steve finds particularly insufferable, smug and knowing, like he's convinced he's already succeeded in picking up Barnes.

"Thanks for the drink, Brock," Barnes is saying, turning to face the other guy, "Real nice, thank you, but I'm still not interested."

"Saw you dancing," says Brock. "Alone. You seriously expect me to believe you're here with someone?"

Ah. Perfect. His cue.

"Hey, baby," says Steve, sliding in on Barnes's other side. "There you are. I'm all done, you ready?"

Barnes, to his credit, only startles a little. He takes a brief moment to scan Steve's face, eyes narrowing just a fraction before he smiles wide and leans right into Steve's hold, angling his body toward him, hand sliding up Steve's arm to his shoulder. "Ready to dance with you, sexy."

"Hmmm," hums Steve, dipping his head down to whisper in Barnes's ear even as he smirks over his shoulder at the schmuck. "You sure I can't just take you home?"

"I'm sure," says Barnes sweetly. "Think I want a few more drinks before we head out. You're okay with that, aren't you?"

God, he's such a little shit. Steve smiles back and lets his hand slide over Barnes's side to his hip, since Barnes is taking his own liberties. If Barnes doesn't want a simple rescue from a creep, that's fine by Steve. He can play along.

"Then let me get you another drink, doll," murmurs Steve, smirking and flagging down the bartender.

Barnes drains the drink in his hand and then gives the empty glass to Brock, turning his body away from him to press up alongside Steve, looking at him meaningfully. There's an edge of something in his eyes that is delicately fearful.

"You can go," Steve says to Brock, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

Brock's face briefly turns murderous before it smooths out. "Fuck this," he snaps. "Waste of a goddamn drink on this uptight twink!"

He stalks off and Steve can feel Barnes relax just a little.

"Uh," says Barnes, dropping the act now that Brock is gone. "Thanks, I think."

Steve lets his arms fall away from Barnes, too, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He clears his throat. "You're welcome. I'm sure you could have handled him on your own."

Barnes shrugs one shoulder, turning to pick up the drink the bartender drops off. "Sure, I guess."

"You come here often?" asks Steve, uncaring that it sounds like a line. Maybe it is? He still hasn't figured out what it is about Barnes that gets under his skin so badly, aside from having the unfortunate luck to spill coffee on Steve's divorce papers.

Barnes snorts and rolls his eyes. "Jesus, does that work for you often?"

Steve purses his lips. "Do you know how to have polite conversation? Or did your parents never bother to teach you how?"

Something furious and hurt flashes across Barnes's face and he straightens up, not quite as tall as Steve but close enough. "My parents are dead, asshole. So no, they didn't get the chance. God, you just can't help yourself, can you?"

Oh, fuck. That was all Steve.

"Sorry," says Steve quickly, with as much sincerity as he can reasonably muster that hopefully won't further offend Barnes. "I'm sorry, that wasn't—" He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. Inappropriate. Bad call."

"Yeah, it was a fucking bad call," snaps Barnes. "I get that you think I'm amusing to you, or something, and that you think you keep doing me favours by throwing money my way, but you don't get to fire me, humiliate me, and then act like I owe you polite conversation just because you bailed me out with the bare minimum required amount of common decency."

When the bartender delivers the fresh drink, Steve takes it, turning away and sipping at it. "I guess I can't help myself," he comments mildly. He is not stung, exactly, by Barnes's biting takedown. Nor is he embarrassed. It feels more like a challenge he has yet to overcome.

"Jesus," huffs Barnes. "Okay, well, I release you. Go back to whatever you were doing before you white-knighted me. I don't need this."

"You don't need anyone, I assume," Steve says, turning his gaze back onto Barnes. Who is, all told, definitely drunk. An angry, articulate drunk, but a drunk nonetheless. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glassy, and his pants are very, very tight. "Except for all the people buying you drinks tonight, right? I feel like you haven't bought a single drink for yourself."

"’Course I haven't," snorts Bucky. "If you have to buy your own drinks, you're doing it wrong."

"And I guess you're doing it very, very right. Got yourself a reputation as a... What did he call you? An uptight twink? So maybe you do come here often...and they all try their best to loosen those tight pants with all the free drinks you could possibly want, huh?" asks Steve, flicking his gaze down Barnes's body and back up.

Barnes lifts a challenging eyebrow. "And?"

"And that's a smooth little setup you got going, Barnes. Sounds a little lonely, but to each their own," says Steve dismissively, taking another drink.

"Oh, please," snaps Barnes, cheeks going even more pink, and Steve doesn't think it's from the booze either. "You don't know the first thing about me, but you think you have me all figured out, huh? I bet you think you could offer me something better too, don't you? If only I would drop to my knees in the bathroom for you. Or drop my pants in the alleyway. Or...I bet someone like you has their own private VIP room. Should I go up there with you, bend over and forget all my problems?"

"No, wouldn't really want an audience for the things I'd like to do to you, and I'm afraid our VIP room is full of clients," says Steve honestly, giving Barnes the barest smile. Maybe the booze has gone to his head or maybe he just doesn't like being told no. "But you are right about one thing. I can offer you something better."

"That what everyone thinks," says Barnes. "That's what every rich prick like you thinks—that you can offer something better. How'd you get so confident, huh? How'd you get so entitled? You get everything handed to you your entire life?"

"I had help, when I needed it," Steve says evenly. Help seems to be something Barnes is not accustomed to receiving, and something he definitely doesn't ask for. "You're not going to make me feel bad about the privilege I have now. I worked for it, Barnes."

"God, stop," groans Barnes. "That's not—you call me that one more time, I'm gonna lose it. Bucky. My name is Bucky."

"Your name is James," says Steve, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep," says Barnes. "Sure is. First name, James. Middle name, Buchanan. Bucky."

"Okay," says Steve. "Bucky. I like you."

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. "Do you? Or do you like what you think I represent? Some poor kid you wronged that you think you need to make something up to? Because I told you, I'm not interested."

"I do," shrugs Steve. "Like you, that is. Something keeps pulling me back. And like I said, I think I can offer you something."

"Oh yeah? If it's a job, I'm not going anywhere near Stark Industries again," snaps Bucky. Growing impatient, now. Get to the point, Steve.

"No," says Steve. "Not a job. An arrangement."

Bucky's face flushes scarlet. "I'm not a whore."

"Okay," says Steve agreeably. "And I wasn't asking you to be one."

"So you don't want to fuck me?" asks Bucky bluntly.

"I didn't say that, either. I said an arrangement." Steve leans forward again, close to Bucky to ensure no one else hears their exchange. Not that there's much chance of it, considering how loud the music is, the bustle of other people and voices in the crowd. "Would you like to hear the terms of the arrangement?"

Bucky looks torn between horrible curiosity and stubborn resentment. He doesn't want to give an inch to Steve.

Steve wants to take a mile.

"Fine," he huffs, not backing away. "What are the terms?"

Steve smiles. "You do everything I say, whatever I say, for...hmm, let's say...a whole year. You dress how I want and you go where I want and you behave like I want and yes, Bucky, you get fucked how I want."

Bucky's breath catches, pupils wide in the dim lights, staring at Steve. "And in exchange?"

"In exchange I'll make sure that when that year is up, you have an apartment in your name and a job at any company that isn't Stark and enough money to go to any school of your choosing. And you never have to see or hear from me again."

"You're fucking crazy," hisses Bucky, shocked into a knee jerk reaction. "What? How is that not prostitution?"

"I think the kids these days wouldn't call you a whore, they'd call you a sugar baby," says Steve, shrugging. "I don't really like to split hairs."

Bucky licks his lips, expression wide open and vulnerable. His gaze darts around the room, then back to Steve, and Steve sees his eyes unfocus for a second; he's very much aroused by what's happening right now. "How do I know you're even legit?"

"Oh, please," scoffs Steve, echoing Bucky's earlier statement. "You looked me up after I fired you. My entire professional history is accessible online. You know I'm 'legit'."

"Okay," says Bucky. He licks his lips again reflexively. He looks so appealing, with his soft mouth and blown-out pupils, trying to work through Steve's offer. "So you just want a fucktoy, is that it? Someone to control? How do I know you'll come through in the end? A whole fucking year? Do I just rely on you the entire time? Do I get an allowance?"

"An allowance is customary," agrees Steve. "I'm sure we could iron out the details to something we're both satisfied with. I would expect a contract, of course. I'm not asking you to make a verbal agreement, here. You should never do that, Bucky."

"And do you do this often?" breathes Bucky, barely audible. "Go around just...buying who you want, when you want them?"

"No," Steve answers simply. "But I told you, I like you."

"And am I just supposed to go home with you right now? Take it or leave it?"

Steve can see that hint of fear in Bucky's eyes again. He frowns. "I said I would take you home, not that you would go home with me. Not tonight. You're drinking, and you deserve some time to think the arrangement over. I'm not unreasonable."

Bucky snorts at that, no doubt thinking of when he lost his job for a single error in judgment, but he takes a trembling breath and says, "Fine. Take me home, then. And I'll think about your arrangement."

"Okay," agrees Steve easily. He flags down the bartender and lays money down for their drinks before he puts his hand on the small of Bucky's back and guides him from the club to his waiting limousine. Bucky rolls his eyes when they're in the back, scooting over until he's on the other side of it from where they got in, nowhere near Steve, and then he starts helping himself to the drinks in the sidebar.

Steve actually has to clear his throat to keep from laughing. Bucky really is such a little shit. Steve hopes his read is correct, that in the light of day Bucky will still want what Steve is offering, crave it. "You know, the driver will need your address, Bucky."

Bucky rolls his eyes again (god, Steve can't WAIT to discipline that right out of him) and then, with a smirk, he digs his wallet out of his pocket and tosses it to Steve. Steve catches it automatically.

"Go on, it's printed on my license."

This kid is so stupid.

Steve purses his lips and takes out Bucky's license, reading the address off to the driver. He also sneaks a look at the details, because Bucky had to realize he'd do so.

James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1995. He is 23 years old. 6 feet tall, blue eyes, no corrective lenses required. He lives in Brooklyn.

Finished with his snooping, Steve tucks the card back into Bucky's wallet and tosses it back to him.

Bucky catches it neatly in one hand, giving Steve a wink. Then he drains the drink he's poured himself and slumps back onto the seat of the limo. "So, like, how rich are you?"

"Multi-millionaire," shrugs Steve. "How broke are you?"

"I have ten cents in my bank account," says Bucky, and his chin juts out, defiant.

"At least you have a bank account," says Steve. "Give me your phone. I'm going to give you my number."

Bucky squirms around obediently, no huffing or eye rolling for once, and he pulls out a cheap looking flip phone, tossing it over to Steve. "It's prepay and I don't have much left on the account right now, so don't expect a lot of messages."

"Noted," says Steve, quickly programming his number in. When he hands it back, he makes sure to catch Bucky's gaze. "Anything else you'd like to tell me in hopes I'll change my mind and won't want you?"

Bucky stares and then blurts: "I'm a virgin still. I won't...know how to do anything."

His cheeks are absolutely burning now but he looks as stubborn and defiant as ever.

Steve takes a deep, steadying breath, keeping his gaze on Bucky. Either he really thinks his being a virgin would be a detractor or it's a test to see if Steve will be overeager. And while Steve doesn't really give a rat's ass one way or another, he won't pretend the thought of making sure Bucky only has good memories associated with getting fucked isn't appealing.

He meets Bucky's stare evenly. "Well, what a shame. Guess I'll have my work cut out for me, telling you exactly what to do to make me happy. I'm sure someone as smart as you will be able to figure it out."

Bucky looks like he's having a hard time determining whether or not Steve is making fun of him. Is he actually calling me stupid? says his furrowed brow.

Eventually, he mumbles, "Well, it's not like I've even agreed to this absolute lunacy. I'm thinking about it."

"Of course," says Steve, shrugging. They're crossing the bridge, now, and Steve turns to look out the window. "I don't want your drunken decision. As long as you get back to me by, oh, let's say...one week from now, then the offer will remain on the table."

"A week," says Bucky. "Okay. Fine."

The rest of the drive flies by, Bucky sneaking drinks right up until the the limo pulls up to his block, and then he scrambles out over Steve's lap and gives him a wide grin as he disappears.

The limo pulls away again, taking Steve home, and he sighs and leans back, shaking his head. He's not sure if Bucky will agree, but he has a good feeling about it.

Enough to get a preliminary contract drafted, anyway.

Bucky doesn't actually text him until one day before Steve's deadline. With every passing day, Steve loses hope he'll hear from Bucky at all.

And then, on Thursday, he gets a text.

[Unknown]: I want to talk about this contract
[Unknown]: can we meet? Public place
Steve: Sure. How about the same diner as before?
Steve: Would you like me to email you a copy ahead of time?
Bucky: okay. my email is [email protected]
Bucky: what time?
Steve: 12:30pm tomorrow
Bucky: k

So, Steve emails the draft of the contract. It outlines Bucky's role as a private contractor and personal assistant, more or less.

Steve will provide meals, clothes, lodging, and transportation, plus an allowance of $500 per week, after taxes. In return, Bucky will agree to live in Steve's home and "provide support" in accordance with Steve's instructions.

The contract is at-will and can be terminated by Bucky at any time without consequence, but a bonus is provided to Bucky if he completes a year of service. At which point, he will be awarded a two bedroom apartment worth up to 1 million dollars in Manhattan, or the market equivalent anywhere in the United States if he chooses to go elsewhere for school.

His tuition will be paid in full for any program he chooses and is accepted into for one undergraduate and one graduate level degree. While in college, he will continue to receive an allowance of $500/week.

If Steve terminates the contract before a year is up, Bucky still gets the bonus unless Bucky violates a very strict behavior clause—up to and including going where Steve has not given him permission to be or inviting strangers to the apartment without permission (which after Steve's lawyer looked it over, he agreed that it would probably hold up in court).

The contract itself never specifies that Bucky has to have sex with Steve, and though he's entirely certain Bucky will say yes to having sex with him, Steve wants Bucky to know that that's not a clause in the contract. It wouldn't be legally binding if it were.

——BUCKY——

Bucky has no idea what is even going on in his life anymore.

For one thing, he's sitting at a computer in the library reading over a contract outlining the services Bucky will provide to Steve fucking Rogers for a year in exchange for a free apartment, education, and allowance.

What. The. Fuck.

Rich people are wild.

One day, this guy is firing him for spilling his coffee, and two months later, he's offering to essentially become Bucky's sugar daddy.

Christ.

It's so tempting.

Bucky is incredibly broke, one final notice away from eviction. He can't remember the last time he had money for groceries. His heat got turned off this morning, and he's been living months without a computer or internet of his own.

$500 a week.

There's a bunch of weird rules, obviously, but Bucky can't get over the allowance. So he has to let Steve dress him and ask permission if he wants to go out? Who cares. He doesn't have friends to invite over anyway.

And...for all the talk at the bar, there's nothing in here about sex.

Absolutely nothing.

Which. Bucky supposes it would be difficult for him to have sex with anyone BUT Steve unless he asked permission, given the limitations on where he goes and who he's with. Of course, that's not really a hardship considering he doesn't have sex with anyone anyway.

But he might like to. He might like to have sex with Steve. But if he doesn't want to, Steve can't terminate their agreement, at least not without having to give Bucky all this "bonus" shit anyway.

God. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could just...be this person. It's only a year. And if it's really awful, he can quit, any time. And he still has whatever money he managed to save in the meantime. What does he need $500/week for if all his needs are already taken care of? He could put it all in savings, every penny, and bounce the second it got to be too much, if he really couldn't take it until the year payout.

And maybe it wouldn't be too terrible.

God, he's going to do this, isn't he? He's going to go to that diner and he's going to say yes to Steve Rogers.

It's exactly what he does.

He gets up the next morning, he showers in icy cold water for as long as he can stand it and he styles his hair, and then he goes to the diner for 12.30. Even though he's a couple of minutes early, Steve is already there.

"Hi," says Bucky, sitting across from him in the booth.

"Bucky," says Steve evenly. "Hello." He's wearing a suit, his beard is neatly trimmed, and there is a briefcase on the table. "I'm happy you decided to meet with me."

"Yeah, whatever, so...I'll sign," he says quickly, twisting his hands in his lap. "I assume you brought a copy. I'm good. Let's do this."

"You don't have any questions?" Steve asks slowly, popping open the clasps on the briefcase.

"No," says Bucky. "I get it. I want to sign. I'm in. The sooner the better."

Steve looks at him for a long time and it makes Bucky feel self-conscious. "What? Did you change your mind suddenly?"

"No," says Steve. "I expected you to have questions, but clearly you've spent the last 24 hours thinking about this carefully. We can sign it. You understand that as soon as you do, it goes into effect, right?"

"Yeah, and you'll start bossing me around, and I'll be able to afford to break the lease on my shitty apartment that I'm about to get evicted from anyway," sighs Bucky, scowling.

Steve hums and then instead of ignoring this or criticizing, he says, "You're right. I should have provided for you to end any living arrangements you had previously. I'll have that added in. We'll need to sign it with my lawyer anyway, to make sure it's filed and legal. We can go now if you want, though."

Bucky cannot believe this. "Yeah, fine, okay."

Steve's going to pay for his lease to be broken. One less thing Bucky has to worry about. God, maybe he doesn't mind this at all. Who cares if he's a glorified whore?

So, Bucky goes with Steve to see his lawyer, a nice older woman who acknowledges nothing about this being weird as hell. She even makes sure that Bucky fully understands the terms of the agreement, briefly explaining some of the more complicated clauses that Bucky had googled last night. Then the amendment is added and Bucky and Steve both sign and it's notarized. After which, Bucky gets a copy and another is placed in a safe at the firm.

Cool.

When they're back in Steve's limo, he turns to Bucky. "I assume you have things you'd like to collect from your old place?"

"Um, yeah, if I can have the rest of the afternoon, I can get my stuff and deal with my lease."

Steve glances at his phone and then says, "Alright. I'm going back to the office to wrap a few things up. Why don't you go do what you need to do. Do you have a lot to move? Things that need to go into storage?"

Bucky shakes his head. "No just...clothes, really. The apartment was furnished when I moved in."

"Okay, I'll send a car to your address. The driver can help carry things down if you need help. If you'll text me the amount you need to pay off your lease and your bank info, I'll wire the funds into your account, as well as this week's allowance," says Steve, all business. Bucky can't get a read on him at all when he's like this. It's nothing like the way he spoke to Bucky that night in the club, deliberate and knowing.

"Uh, okay," says Bucky. Because he's not really sure what else to say.

"Can you be finished and ready to return to my place by 7 PM?"

Bucky nods. "Yeah, no problem."

"Good," says Steve.

Bucky gets dropping off at his place, and within minutes a second car arrives and the driver gets out.

"Hey man," says the blond guy that gets out. "I'm Clint. I'll help you carry stuff."

"Okay," says Bucky. This is the weirdest fucking day. "I just have to go to the rental office first."

It's not as painful as Bucky thought. The money's already been transferred, so he pays off his lease and terminates it. Then he goes upstairs trailed by the driver, who whistles as he carries the stuff Bucky hands him to take to the car.

He packs his clothes, goes through the apartment twice, and then shrugs. That's it. There's nothing else.

"Oh," says Clint when he reappears. "That's it?"

"Yeah," says Bucky, his cheeks burning. "I don't have much."

"No big," says Clint. "I can take you to the cap's place, now."

Bucky hesitates. They'll be early. "Sure. Um. Is he, uh...is he...?"

Clint cocks his head as they walk out. Bucky locks the door and then hands the keys in on the way out. "Is he...?"

"He's not, like, a psychopath, right?" Bucky crawls into the back of the car and leans in to speak to Clint through the divider.

Clint laughs. "No. He's a good dude. A bit cold, sometimes. But good." He says the next part carelessly: "Lonely, I think. Don't, uh...tell him I said that."

"I won't if you won't tell him I asked if he was a psychopath," Bucky says smartly.

Clint winks at him in the rearview mirror. "You got it."

Bucky slumps into the seat and stares out the window as they leave Brooklyn. When they get to Steve's absolutely ridiculous Midtown apartment building, Clint helps him bring everything up, and then leaves him. Alone. In Steve's place.

"Bye," says Bucky, a little forlorn. "Thanks for being cool."

"You too, little buddy," says Clint. "I'll tell Steve I dropped you off. See you around sometime, maybe."

The door closes and Bucky looks around.

He doesn't know what he's allowed to do. He explores a little, walking around the living room, kitchen, and dining room. He stands and looks out the floor to ceiling windows for a while. He walks down the hall but doesn't enter any of the rooms.

Then he sits on the couch in the living room and waits quietly for Steve.

He hopes he hasn't made a huge fucking mistake.

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

Around 5:00 PM, Steve gets a call that Bucky has been dropped off at his penthouse.

Huh. So, it really didn’t take long for Bucky to cut ties with his old life.

Glancing at his office door to make sure it’s shut, Steve says, "Hey, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Can you tell me what my guest is up to?"

There’s a brief pause and then JARVIS says, "He appears to be resting in the living room. He briefly walked around the open living areas of the home but did not enter any of the rooms."

"Can I see?"

"Certainly," answers JARVIS, and on Steve’s computer, video of Bucky pops up.

He’s curled on his side on the couch, head resting on one of the decorative pillows. He’s not sleeping, either. His gaze is distant as he stares toward the windows, seemingly lost in thought.

Steve gets the strange urge to be there, to sit next to Bucky and comb his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It’s overgrown. He needs a haircut.

Well. That’s at least something Steve can do something about. "JARVIS, schedule an appointment for Bucky at Solei."

"What services shall I book, Captain?"

Steve narrows his eyes. Well. He’s in charge of everything Bucky does and how he looks, isn't he? "Haircut and style, shave for his face, facial, manicure and a pedicure, and...waxing services. Throw in a massage at the end."

"Certainly," says JARVIS, voice calm and neutral. After about ten minutes, he speaks again. "Everything has been arranged for 10 AM at Solei Spa."

"Thank you, JARVIS," says Steve. He leans back in his chair, debating on leaving now to go join Bucky. He has some work to do, though.

"Order dinner, would you?" he asks aloud. "A pizza, deliver it to the house for my guest."

"Of course, sir."

JARVIS doesn't ask for details; he's either announced himself to Bucky to ask him, or he's using Steve's most recent order. It doesn't matter, either way. Bucky will be fed by the time Steve gets home. Then he can settle in and tomorrow Steve will hustle him off to the spa.

He'll need to take him shopping, too. Get him a new wardrobe and a real phone.

That's a start.

By the time Steve gets home just after seven, Bucky has eaten three slices of the pizza and fallen asleep on the couch.

Steve doesn't disturb him. He stands over him a moment, listening to him breathe; he looks sweet, lips parted, face slack. He cleans up the pizza box, putting it in the fridge, and then finds where Clint put Bucky's stuff, which...is only clothes, just like Bucky said.

He's taking it all into one of the spare rooms when Bucky appears, a little groggy, rubbing at his eyes as he watches Steve.

"I wasn't sure where I was supposed to put my stuff, so I just...left it," he says, clearly a bit anxious that he's done something wrong. "Um. Hi. Thanks for the pizza."

"You're welcome," says Steve. "It's fine. I didn't tell you to unpack. This will be your space. I'm probably going to go through all this tomorrow while you're at the spa and trash some of it. Then we'll get you new clothes."

Bucky's eyes go wide. "The spa?"

"I booked you an appointment for tomorrow morning," says Steve briskly. "You need a haircut and some…." He gestures vaguely at Bucky. "Some general hygiene work. And a massage."

"Okay," says Bucky, his cheeks a bit pink. "Thanks. I think."

"You’re welcome." Steve sets the last of Bucky’s things down and gestures. "This room has its own bathroom as well, you’re welcome to use it or the one off the master bedroom. It’s stocked with basics but feel free to pick up anything you like at the spa, it will be billed to me, or you can always ask JARVIS to add it to the weekly shopping list, same goes with food."

"JARVIS...?"

"Oh, I guess he didn’t introduce himself after all. JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?"

Bucky visibly startles, looking around.

"Why don’t you explain yourself to Bucky."

"Of course," says JARVIS. "I am an artificial intelligence system designed and owned by Tony Stark. I assist in the operation of Stark Industries as well as help manage the security and personal affairs of its executive officers. I am fully integrated into all WiFi capable devices within the household and will respond to voice prompting within the building or near a mobile interface, such as a Stark mobile device. Should you require anything, I’m happy to be of assistance, Mr. Barnes."

"Holy shit," says Bucky.

"Feel free to ask him for anything you like," says Steve. "He'll inform you whether or not it's possible or allowed." Steve pauses a moment. "I hear he's a good listener, too."

"Thank you, sir," says JARVIS.

Bucky's face is one of open shock. "Uh. Wow. Okay. Is, uh, is he...watching me? All the time?"

"I have security cameras set up in every room of the house," Steve says easily. "I can ask to review the footage at any time. But as a general rule, no, he is not watching you all the time. JARVIS isn't programmed as a surveillance camera to catch you out if you do something you're not supposed to. His primary function is service."

Bucky nods, still a little shaken. "Uh, nice to...meet you, JARVIS."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Barnes."

"I think I'm done here," says Steve. "You can have the evening to settle in. I'll have JARVIS wake you at seven tomorrow. Spa's at ten. I don't like tardiness."

And then Steve brushes his hands off and leaves Bucky to explore his new room.

They don't cross paths again that night. Steve hears the shower kick on, running water from the sink, and the soft sounds of the TV in the bedroom as Bucky discovers he has access to any video streaming service he wants.

"He watching Netflix?" Steve asks JARVIS quietly, as he settles into his own bed to read.

"Yes, sir," says JARVIS. "Would you like to know the film?"

"No, no," sighs Steve. "I don't actually want to spy on him after telling him I wouldn't do that. I was just curious if he's settling in. I mean it, I only want to know if I specifically ask."

"Of course, sir."

Steve drifts off more easily than normal, the soft sounds of Bucky watching a movie barely audible. It’s reassuring, knowing someone else is here.

In the morning, he’s up well before Bucky, answering emails from his tablet while he sips on fresh coffee and sits in the kitchen, robe on but open, revealing his chest and boxers underneath. It’s his usual routine in the mornings and he doesn’t think much of it until he hears Bucky’s footsteps coming down the hall and then the way his breath catches and he comes to an abrupt stop.

Steve glances up and sees Bucky sleepily rubbing his eyes and staring at Steve like maybe he’s a mirage. Steve sips his coffee. "Good morning, Bucky."

Bucky seems to startle (he’s like a woodland creature) and then he shakes himself and comes over. "Morning, may I..." he points at the half full pot of coffee.

"By all means. There’s bagels and cream cheese or you can have eggs and bacon if you feel like cooking," says Steve, taking another sip. "Wear something comfortable today. They’ll probably put you in a robe as soon as you get there. We’ll go shopping afterward once I’ve gone through your clothes. If there’s anything sentimental you definitely want to keep, please put it on the right side of the closet and I’ll leave it alone."

Bucky shakes his head and moves toward the coffee pot to pour himself a mug. "Don’t have anything that really means anything. So...I guess do whatever you want."

Steve nods and goes back to tapping away on his tablet. Bucky makes himself a bagel and sits next to Steve to eat it. He doesn’t ask Steve any questions, which is just as well, because Steve is currently in the middle of ripping apart the worst design rough draft he’s ever seen.

Bucky disappears again and Steve hears the sink turn on distantly. About twenty minutes later, Bucky reappears in soft jeans and a hoodie, face washed and presumably teeth brushed. "I’m ready whenever."

Steve glances at the time. Still early. Hmm. "I’m sending you alone to the spa. I have things to take care of. So...feel free to keep yourself busy until 9:30, that’s what time your car is scheduled."

Bucky stares back at him. "Am I just...some kind of project for you? An experiment?"

"What?"

"You haven’t actually wanted to spend any time with me yet, and you just keep ordering me to go places and do things and none of it is...like how you described it at the club."

Steve straightens up, giving Bucky a long once over that is intentionally scrutinizing, so that Bucky is pink and squirming by the end of it.

"You've been here for just over twelve hours," says Steve steadily. "Were you expecting me to bend you over the kitchen counter the second I got home?"

Bucky jerks his head in a shrug. "I don't know. I've never done this before. I don't… There was nothing about sex in the contract, and I get why not, I just...don't get why you're—"

"You don't have to get anything. The motivation here is mine, not yours," says Steve. He puts his tablet down and stands up, walking right up to Bucky and grasping him by the chin. "I'm in charge. Of where you go, what you do, what you wear, and what you look like. If and when I decide I want to fuck you, you'll have the option to say no. Otherwise, everything else is up to me. Got that?"

Bucky's face is red again. "Yeah," he mumbles. "It's just—"

Steve presses his thumb over Bucky's lips and uses his hand to clamp his jaw shut. "It's just nothing," he says firmly. "I'm giving you time to settle in, and I'd like to get you up to my standards first, so I thought you'd appreciate me easing you in a bit."

Bucky's eyes are wide, and he has gone very still under Steve's hands.

Steve gives him another few moments. "Are you going to be good?"

Slowly, Bucky nods, so Steve lets him go.

"I'll pick you up after your appointment and we'll go shopping and get dinner. Then we'll spend the evening together."

"Okay," whispers Bucky.

"Good boy," says Steve.

——BUCKY——

It washes over Bucky unexpectedly, something hot racing up his spine.

Bucky would have sworn he didn’t give a rat's ass about Steve’s approval, and maybe he doesn’t.

Except in that moment, he barely holds his tongue from saying ‘thank you’ or even more humiliatingly: please. He’s not even sure what he’d be begging for.

Instead he takes a shuddering breath and turns away, fleeing back to his room to sit and stare numbly at Netflix for the next hour. JARVIS is kind enough to give him a reminder when it’s time to go and Bucky gets up, grabs his wallet and his phone, and hurries toward the elevator. He passes Steve on the way who only nods at him. "See you this afternoon."

Clint is his driver again, polite and friendly as ever, but Bucky can’t think of anything to ask or say. His head won’t quit buzzing. It’s like he can still feel Steve’s hand on him, still feel the way Steve was looking at him.

God, he hopes the spa is nice. He’s never done anything remotely like it, only seen things in movies or on TV. But he’s greeted with a bright smile and when he gives his name, it even widens.

"Oh, Mr. Barnes, we were expecting you. Thank you so much for joining us. Marissa will be doing your hair and then Brigita will be doing your shave and facial after that with a mani pedi. Then we’ll send you to see Selene for your wax and Paulette for your massage!"

Bucky's head is immediately spinning. Oh, god. How long is this going to take?

...and a wax??

"Okay," squeaks Bucky. What had Steve said that made humiliation burn through him? He wanted Bucky up to his standards. Apparently that wasn't just a haircut and a mud bath.

"Don't you worry, honey," says the girl. "We'll take such good care of you. Come with me, please."

And really, it's fine. It's great, actually. He hasn't had a haircut in a while, and Marissa is really good. She catches onto his look immediately, and he ends up with a cut and style that's longer on top, short on the sides and in the back, and sweeps with a stylish wave over his forehead. Getting shaved by someone else is odd, and Bucky struggles to stop from being weirdly turned on by it. Then his nails, which is normal and not uncomfortable, and then—

His anxiety kicks back into overdrive as he's led to a changing room and told to strip nude and put on a robe.

Heart pounding, he emerges from the changing room and meets Selene, an intimidatingly tall and beautiful woman with dark eyes and a glittering smile.

"Hi there," she greets. "Oh, don't look so nervous, babe! You won't feel a thing."

"My, uh...my..." Bucky stammers, choking on what to call Steve. "This was booked for me. What are you gonna...you know...wax?"

"Oh, basically everything," she says breezily. "You'll feel so soft and smooth everywhere, I promise. Lie down here for me."

Bucky starts to get up onto the padded table and she says, "oh, let me take that," and suddenly Bucky is naked.

And blushing so hard he knows she can see it creeping all the way down his body.

"I've never done this before," he whispers, getting up on the bench. "But I feel like people scream their way through it."

"Not on my table," Selene says firmly. "We'll start with your chest, then your legs, then your genitals."

Bucky nearly passes out.

She is calm and professional, though, guiding him up into the table and helping him relax. She’s thorough about prepping his skin, she uses calming essential oils, and he’s drifting by the time she applies the hot wax to his chest and strips away his hair. And it stings a little, but mostly it just makes him feel exposed and more naked.

He makes a soft little noise for the second strip she pulls away and she just shushes him lightly. "Shh, that’s it, honey, just keep breathing for me. You’re doing great."

He shivers but does as she says. His legs are similar, a new foreign feeling he’s never experienced before, and then she moves on to his groin. "Now, it’s okay if you react in unexpected ways, it happens to everyone. Just keep breathing and stay relaxed."

Bucky nods, keeping his eyes closed, and then she starts applying wax over his balls and between his legs. "Oh!" He gasps, face burning. He’s never felt more exposed and embarrassed and weirdly turned on again but she’s so clinical, uncaring, just repositions his cock and balls where she needs them for each strip of hair she removes.

By the time she asks him to roll over again, he’s panting and dazed.

This is what Steve wants.

That’s what he keeps thinking as she applies the wax around his hole, the same sure and steady motions as everywhere else on his body. Steve wants him smooth and clean and ready for him. This will bring Bucky up to his standards. When she pulls the last strip of wax and hair away, he lets out a startled moan, face burning at his reaction.

"You did great," Selene says, mercifully calm and unbothered by the trembling mess he's become on the table.

She uses a warm, wet cloth soaked with something fragrant to clean away excess wax and then her hands rub something oily into every bit of soft, sensitive, newly-smooth skin until Bucky is pink and flushed all over with embarrassment. Then she hands him his robe, which he grabs gratefully, and he can't meet her eyes as he covers himself, half hard under it.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"Don't be embarrassed, honey," she says with a wink. "You're a dream to work with. I'll give you a minute in the waiting room to have a drink of water and relax, and then Paulette will come get you for your massage. Try not to shower with the water too hot, it's bad for your skin. I'll throw in my favourite moisturizer today as a first time bonus."

"Th-thank you," stammers Bucky, his voice thin. He stumbles out to the waiting room on jelly legs, the soft robe pressed against all his freshly-waxed skin and making him shiver. He gets a drink of water and sits down, willing himself to breathe.

He wasn't expecting to, like, enjoy that. It didn't hurt, not quite, but it was uncomfortable and it stung and Selene's hands were all over him in such a knowing, efficient, sure way.

His boner dies before Paulette arrives, thankfully. He hopes the massage doesn't turn him on as much as the waxing did.

Jesus. What a day.

Paulette has firm hands, and she works every last bit of tension out of him until Bucky feels like a cooked noodle. He falls asleep during the hot stone bit, then wakes slowly to Paulette saying, "We're done, sugar."

He feels like a newborn fawn as he gets to his feet, dazed and shaky.

After he gets dressed in a fog, Bucky finds Steve waiting for him in the lobby.

He’s sitting calmly in one of the fancy leather chairs, one leg crossed over the other in the widest man-spread Bucky’s ever seen while Steve taps away at his phone. He’s wearing dark navy dress pants and a gray sweater that looks soft and luxurious, dressed down from the office but still a million times nicer looking than Bucky.

Steve looks up when Bucky comes out and then smiles, rising to his feet and walking over. His eyes sweep critically over Bucky’s hair and face and down his body as if he can see through Bucky’s clothes to the pink, smooth skin beneath. When he raises his gaze again, he reaches out and touches Bucky’s hair, proprietary and without hesitation, realigning several strands that Steve seems to think are out of place, maybe from Bucky pulling on his hoodie again.

Bucky’s mouth parts without his permission as he stares up at Steve, still feeling dazed and sensitive and needy.

Steve smirks. "This is cute, the hair, you. I’ll have to make sure going to the spa is a regular occurrence in the future."

Bucky shivers. "I—thanks for sending me."

"Did you like it?" He asks shrewdly.

"It was...different," he settles on. He can feel his face burning.

Steve hums and then waves to the receptionist. "Put him on the books for every other week, thanks."

"Of course, Captain Rogers. Will there be anything else?"

Oh god. Every two weeks? He’s so glad he didn’t have to hear how much all this cost.

"Make sure a 30% tip is added for each of the services. Tell the girls they did great," Steve says happily, and then he glances back at Bucky and guides him toward the elevator with a hand on the small of his back. "Time to go shopping."

Bucky feels utterly dumb with dizzy shock.

He's been at the spa all afternoon; in addition to whatever obscene cost that must be on its own, Steve is tipping each worker 30%. God, what must it be like to throw that kind of money around? For people to just...charge it to some account somewhere you never even look at? Steve hasn't pulled out a credit card once. All he has to say is "put it on my tab" or "charge it to the account" and it just HAPPENS.

Bucky lets that percolate as Steve guides him to the car.

"You seem relaxed," Steve murmurs in his ear as he helps Bucky into the car.

"I fell asleep on the massage table," he admits, because that seems safer than telling him that getting waxed by firm, clinical hands kind of turned him on.

"Good," says Steve, seemingly amused, or, maybe charmed? "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Bucky rubs his thighs together, wishing he'd worn something softer than jeans. His skin is so sensitive. Abruptly, and without any warning, he imagines Steve's beard scratching at his inner thighs, and his entire face goes hot.

"Yeah," he croaks, swallowing back the rush of arousal. It’s not fair, this day has got him all twisted up.

Steve sits next to him, his arm going around the back of Bucky’s seat. "Hopefully you enjoy the next few hours too. You’re free to point out things you like or don’t like. I’ll do my best to accommodate your tastes in...some areas."

Bucky sighs, hoping he survives the sensation of changing his clothes repeatedly with everything feeling like...so much.

"Okay," he agrees. It doesn’t matter. Steve gets what Steve wants. That much has been well and truly established. And Bucky still feels too nice to worry much about it.

It’s Steve’s money. If he wants to waste it dressing Bucky up in fancy suits or whatever the hell he has in mind, Bucky’s not gonna argue.

Steve’s fingers find their way into Bucky’s hair again, tickling through the silky strands. Bucky huffs, blinking wide eyes over at Steve. "You’ll mess it up if you keep doing that."

"That's the idea," says Steve firmly. He gives a warning tug to Bucky's hair, unspoken reprimand, a reminder that Steve gets to do what he wants with him.

The noise Bucky makes in response, well. It's only slightly embarrassing. Worse came out of him when Selene was doing her thing.

"You're...very sweet," says Steve, fingers massaging at Bucky's scalp. It feels so good. Bucky's eyes flutter closed, his mouth dropping open, floating happily on this wave of weird pleasure.

"Thanks," slurs Bucky.

The rest of the afternoon and evening goes by in a blur of hazy warmth and near-arousal. Shopping isn't what Bucky is accustomed to, which is to say, there's absolutely no digging through racks of sale items. It involves five different stores, five different private dressing rooms, and five different personal shoppers. All Bucky does is take what he's handed and try it on.

Suits, slacks, designer jeans, a pair of leather pants, button ups, sweaters, a couple of hoodies, t-shirts—it all blends together into fabric dragging over Bucky's skin, until he's breathless and ragged with want, just from trying on clothes.

It doesn't help that Steve touches him all throughout, adjusting clothes, checking inseams, messing up his hair, manipulating him, buttoning things up, unzipping things.

Bucky is completely out of his own body by the end of it.

Steve picks and chooses and has items put into bags, and as they're finally leaving the last store, Steve says, very gently, "Why don't we go home, instead of eating out? We can order something."

"Okay," says Bucky, desperately relieved. He feels like he's fit to burst, he's so wound up.

Steve pulls him close in the car and Bucky goes easily, leaning against him as the car gently rolls through the streets. Steve's fingers fully push into his thick hair, combing through the wavy strands again and again while Bucky drifts, his eyes drooping. If this is going to be what every day is like...well, first of all, that would be insane, but who is Bucky to question the habits of rich people? Second of all, maybe he didn't make such a terrible mistake. Steve...is okay. Demanding, sure, but not horrible or mean.

Bucky kind of likes it, if he stops to think about it long enough (which is...very difficult right now). The rules of where he stands with Steve seem clear—it’s wherever Steve puts him.

When the car pulls to a stop, Bucky is ushered out by Steve, guided into the lobby before he can even try to start gathering up bags himself. "Clint will get those, let's get you inside."

Bucky honestly feels like he's floating along, straight into Steve's private elevator. "JARVIS, penthouse, please."

"Certainly, sir."

Without missing a beat, Steve pulls him right up against him again, chest to chest as Steve leans against the back of the elevator. One hand stays around Bucky, warm palm pressed just under the hem of his hoodie, fingers brushing against the small of his back. The other comes up and cups his jaw, tilting his face up toward Steve.

"Your eyes are very blue when you're like this," murmurs Steve, staring at him.

Bucky blinks slowly. "Like what?"

Steve smirks. "Sweet."

"You keep saying that," sighs Bucky. "M'not sweet."

"You very much are," says Steve firmly. Another tug to Bucky's hair. "I didn't anticipate your activities today would get to you like this, but I'm not surprised."

"Like...what?" Bucky leans into Steve, sighing heavily. Steve tightens his grip around his shoulders and guides Bucky into the penthouse.

"Floating," says Steve. He walks Bucky to the couch and settles him down onto it. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

Bucky sighs, burrowing down into the cushions and nodding. "'Kay."

Steve wanders away. In the kitchen, he hears him talking to JARVIS: "Oven-baked salmon, roasted vegetables, and....rice pilaf. That sounds good."

"Right away, Captain."

He hears the sink, then, before Steve returns to him, sinking down onto the couch beside Bucky and wrapping his arms around him again. "You with me, yet?"

"Yeah," says Bucky. He still feels relaxed, sure, but settling back in at home—home, god, this is his home now—has made some of the fog lift. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Steve hums a bit. "Bucky?"

Bucky lifts his head and turns toward Steve so he can look at him, finally starting to feel just a little normal again. "Yeah?"

"You told me something a week ago, something important. Do you remember?"

Bucky frowns, thrown by the question. "I said a lot of things."

"That's true, but this in particular is relevant to our evening. You told me you're a virgin. Was it true?" ask Steve, and try as he might, Bucky can't read a single thing about the question other than neutral, honest curiosity.

"Yes, it was true," he whispers, still feeling that hint of embarrassment at admitting something so private to Steve, despite everything.

Steve shifts around to face him more directly, studying his face. He's still so calm and nonchalant as he continues asking, "By choice or circumstance?"

"Oh," says Bucky, breaking eye contact to look away. "Uh, both, I guess? I moved around a lot as a kid, jumped high schools a lot. I was in foster care, and it never felt—" safe, he doesn't want to say, "uh, right, I guess. To make a connection like that with someone? Didn't ever have enough time. And then later...I guess it just felt like...everyone I was meeting at clubs or whatever expected me to already have all this experience or be this, uh slutty twink role."

Bucky's cheeks burn.

"So you decided to be the uptight twink instead?" Steve asks calmly.

"I...guess so," says Bucky, blinking. He never really thought about that part too hard. "I know that older men and women find me attractive. It was a good way to go out and dance and have drinks without having to spend any money and if I was careful, I could usually get away with it."

"And people like... Brock, was it? The ones that felt like you owed them sex?"

"Sometimes I'd just bail, or...fake a date, with someone like, well, you," admits Bucky. "It didn't happen very often."

"Mmhmm, I see," murmurs Steve. His arm around Bucky's shoulders is a heavy, warm weight, Steve's fingers teasing at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him shiver. "Bucky, do you want our relationship to be a sexual one?"

"Yeah," says Bucky without hesitation.

Steve seems surprised he answered so quickly. "Really. You're okay with me being all your firsts?"

"I like not having to worry any more," says Bucky. "And you seem, um. Experienced. And I can tell you're...attracted to me."

"Are you attracted to me?" Steve's other hand comes up to cup Bucky's chin, brushing at his lower lip.

"Yeah," huffs Bucky. "Obviously. I think you knew that. Even when I was really angry at you, I could acknowledge that objectively you're really hot."

Steve laughs shortly. "Well, I'd hate to waste all of today's grooming efforts."

Bucky's face flushes. "She was very thorough. It was...intense."

"Oh?" Steve arches a brow. "You didn't mention that."

"The waxing," says Bucky. "It made me feel, uh. Good."

There's a small curl on Steve's lips, the hint of a smile. "Can you tell me what about it made you feel good?"

The question, for whatever reason, hits him low in the gut, a sweep of tight pleasure. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head slightly. "I—I'm not sure. She said it happens sometimes, people...react to it."

"Was it her? Were you attracted to her? Did you like her touching you?" Steve doesn't seem angry or annoyed, just curious.

"I don't really, uh, find women attractive, like that. She was beautiful, I guess, but—" Bucky huffs, darting his gaze away, to look out the window, then down at the coffee table, and finally landing back on Steve. "I kept thinking about you. About what you said."

"What did I say?"

God. Bucky can feel his cock twitching in his jeans, his skin prickling with sweat. Steve's got no right to be this hot just sitting there, calmly asking him questions, making Bucky's breaths go quick and shallow.

"You said...I went to, um, get up to your standards. And she was touching me all over, professional and—she didn't care about me, sexually, and no one...no one's ever touched me like that, not even making out, but it was to get ready for you. It made me feel like..." Bucky pauses, his eyes feel hot, his throat burning. Why is this making him feel like he's going to cry to admit?

Steve has mercy on him. "Did it make you feel like a thing? Like an object I was having made pretty for me to enjoy?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"And you liked that feeling." It's not a question.

Bucky answers anyway. "Yes."

"You liked being prepared for me," Steve says in a low voice, and it drags heat into Bucky's gut, blooming arousal, his cock twitching into hardness. Bucky nods helplessly, officially out of words.

"I'm going to kiss you now," says Steve, his hand angling Bucky's chin up a bit. "Is that okay?"

Bucky nods again, more eagerly. He doesn't really feel like himself. He feels like a puppet on a string with Steve's hands guiding him, and it's turning Bucky on so much he can't even speak anymore.

This is the same man that stared him down in the mail room and fired him without sympathy. For some reason, that just makes the humiliation curling within him blossom into hot arousal.

Even as he's trying to puzzle through his baffling reactions to this, Steve leans in, lips brushing Bucky's. It's like an electric shock, Bucky making a soft noise at the firm press of Steve's mouth on his, but Steve swallows it up. Bucky parts his lips on a soft gasp and Steve's there to take advantage, delving deep, slick and hot and demanding while Bucky loses himself in the simple pressure of his lips and the possessive slide of his hands.

When Steve draws back to let him breathe, Bucky pants raggedly, dizzy with it.

"It's a good thing you didn't give any of those strangers a chance with you," says Steve roughly, his thumb pressed to the hinge of Bucky's jaw, keeping his mouth obligingly open. "They would have used you, once they saw how sweet and easy you are."

That sparks a neuron. "M'not easy," whines Bucky.

As if to prove his point, Steve pushes two fingers into Bucky's mouth. Bucky moans, closing his lips around them and suckling gently.

"Yes," says Steve firmly. "You are." With his other hand, he taps firmly at Bucky's cheek, and he reluctantly releases Steve's fingers.

Luckily, he kisses Bucky again, and Bucky melts into it, eyelids fluttering closed at the soft press of lips. Steve's beard keeps tickling and rubbing at his chin and cheeks and the corners of his mouth, Bucky chasing the sensation shamelessly.

By the time Steve puts a hand at his chest to stop him, Bucky is very hard against Steve's hip, cock throbbing.

"The last thing I want you to do is come in your pants from being kissed, sweetheart," says Steve firmly.

Bucky widens his eyes, trying to look tempting or pleading, and Steve laughs, so Bucky says hopefully, "take me to bed?"

"You need something to eat. What have you even had all day? Did they feed you at the spa?"

Bucky frowns then, thinking about it. "There were chocolate covered strawberries and champagne."

"Uh huh, so all you’ve had all day is a bagel and sugar. You need some protein," Steve says firmly.

As if on cue, JARVIS says, "Dinner is ready, shall I let the server up?"

"Yes, please. Have them set it up in the dining room."

Bucky tries not to pout, though he definitely thinks he could have done without eating for a little bit longer! Still, when the server appears and begins to set things out on the table, the smell of food hits him and his stomach rumbles audibly.

"Come on," says Steve with a grin. "Food first, then I’ll take you to bed."

"Promise?" asks Bucky smartly.

Steve taps his jaw. "If you’re a good boy."

Those words, the casual but possessive touch, light Bucky up in eager, promising ways.

This is more like the Steve in the bar and more like what Bucky expected.

"I'm always a good boy," Bucky says, widening his eyes and looking innocently at Steve. Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes, pulling out a twenty and passing it the server as they leave.

Bucky stands up, following Steve to the table. Even though he feels ready to go, he's also starving, and he settles in his chair and devotes himself to his dinner.

He looks up after several ravenous bites to see Steve watching him, and Bucky flushes hotly. "Was I...um," Bucky swallows the bite in his mouth and wipes at his lips with a napkin. "Was I supposed to wait?"

"No," says Steve, smiling. "Eat up. I just like looking at you."

Bucky's head spins a bit, that pleased rush of satisfaction and pride that someone seems to want him this much. It's enough to make him duck his head to concentrate on eating again.

Steve's hungry gaze rests on him until Bucky's done eating, leaving Steve's food mostly untouched.

"I want you to go get cleaned up while I finish," says Steve. "Shower thoroughly, brush your teeth. Don't get dressed after, just go to my bedroom."

"Okay," breathes out Bucky. He gets up and hurries away from the table.

He can feel Steve watching him the whole way until he disappears down the hall and into his bedroom. He takes a moment when he’s inside to lean against the door and just breathe. He’s really going to do this. He’s going to get naked and clean himself up for Steve and then lay in Steve’s bed and let him...do whatever he wants.

Bucky shivers, reaching up to push a hand through his hair, tugging lightly just the way Steve has. "Fuck," he mutters, and then pushes away from the door and starts peeling off his hoodie and his jeans.

His skin feels tender still, smooth and silky, and when he gets into the bathroom he remembers what Selene told him, turning the water on to something warm but not hot. Sitting on the counter is the little bag of goodies they’d handed him as he walked out of the spa. He barely remembers that, and he has no idea how anyone knew to put it in here.

Then again...he walks back out to the bedroom and looks. All of his new clothes are hanging neatly in the closet. Oh. Wow.

Bucky doesn’t want to keep Steve waiting, though, so he goes back to the bathroom and gets out the shampoo and conditioner and the sugar scrub and body wash, bringing it into the shower. He remembers hearing that it’s good to exfoliate after getting waxed, to make sure he doesn’t get any ingrown hairs. So he gets cleaned up, scrubbing all over, gently rubs the washcloth between his legs and over his hole so that he’s clean everywhere.

When he gets out of the shower, he feels squeaky clean, skin shiny as he dries himself off and moisturizes with what Selene gave him.

All the products say things like ORGANIC and NO PRESERVATIVES and he knows they must be expensive.

He feels expensive, like a special toy Steve had delivered just for him. Maybe that’s what he is.

Maybe that’s okay.

After he brushes his teeth and combs his hair, he makes himself take a deep breath and leave his own room for Steve’s. He can hear Steve moving around in the dining room, and Bucky walks a little faster.

Except once he gets there, he has no idea what he’s supposed to do now.

Steve didn't give him instructions beyond showering and going to his bedroom, and he's here now, so is he supposed to get into bed?

He can't just be standing here frozen when Steve comes in.

The thing he didn't anticipate, though, is just how good Steve's soft sheets feel against his freshly-moisturized skin. As he crawls into Steve's huge, king-size bed, the sheets dragging smooth against his body, Bucky makes a shocked sound, shivery pleasure rippling over him.

Oh, god, that feels good. Exposed and tender. He flops down on his belly, rubbing his shaved jaw on Steve's pillow, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. The sheets press against his chest and thighs and smooth legs, and he finds himself wriggling to get more contact.

He's not quite humping the mattress when Steve comes in, but he's definitely facedown and squirming, buried in the thick, expensive fabric, his body tingling.

"Well," says Steve, speaking suddenly from the end of the bed. "Are you getting started without me?"

Bucky jumps, squeaking out a startled noise. "No! No, it's..." A flush spreads through him, heating up his skin, and he sits up, settling his hands in his lap self-consciously. "No. I didn't expect it to feel so good on my skin."

Steve smirks, in the middle of taking off his watch. He lays that down, then grasps his sweater by the hem, stripping it up off over his head, leaving a thin undershirt on beneath it. Just watching him undress himself is ridiculously erotic. Bucky's cheeks burn. He's sat here, so naked, while Steve watches him, still mostly dressed.

Steve reaches down, slowly unbuckling his belt, pulling it free from the belt loops and winding it up before setting it down next to his watch. Bucky watches the whole process completely enraptured.

"Bucky," says Steve, startling him from his reverie. Steve crooks his finger. "Come here."

Bucky bites his bottom lip but shifts onto his knees and shuffles forward. "Are you going to...take off all your clothes?"

Steve’s hand settles onto his hip, pulling him closer until he’s perched just on the end of the bed and very close to where Steve is standing.

"Eventually," he answers, and then he cups the side of Bucky’s neck with his other hand and draws him forward into a kiss.

Bucky’s eyes slip closed and his hands go automatically to Steve’s shoulders, twisting in the soft cotton of his undershirt as Steve’s tongue dips into his mouth, hot and sure. His cock feels heavy between his legs, twitching and bobbing with every sweep of Steve’s thumb against his hip bone. With his knees barely on the bed, Bucky has no leverage to push forward, no way to press his body against Steve’s without falling off the bed. Steve is in control of every part of this kiss.

That simple statement of fact, Steve is in control, is doing a lot for Bucky right now.

It takes all the pressure off, eases any of Bucky's lingering anxiety about how inexperienced he is, because he doesn't need to be, he doesn't need to know or do anything. It's not up to him to decide, it's Steve that's going to direct.

"I'm looking forward to this," murmurs Steve, pushing his fingers into Bucky's clean, damp hair. "You're such a sweet thing. So eager."

Bucky hums, leaning his lips up to catch Steve in another kiss. Steve denies him, though, pushing him away and stepping back. He strips off his undershirt, and Bucky locks his eyes on Steve's broad, bare chest.

"Lie back," says Steve. "Let me see all the work they did today."

Bucky scoots into the nest of pillows, lying back, cheeks pink with the knowledge that Steve is scrutinizing him, examining every inch of his body. Bucky squirms, aware of his cock jutting up hard between his legs, his eyes wide on Steve.

"Yeah," sighs Steve, pushing his pants down his hips and stepping out of them. "Yeah, you're so sweet. Such a treat to look at."

"Thanks," whispers Bucky.

"You're welcome," says Steve, finally climbing his way up onto the bed. He pushes Bucky's legs apart, pressing them back as he fits between them, leaving Bucky even more exposed.

Bucky's hands come down to cover himself automatically, but Steve catches his wrists, guiding Bucky's arms to tuck them behind himself, wrists crossed at the small of his back. "Keep those there."

A shiver runs up Bucky's spine, making him squirm, his toes curling and his cock jumping, slapping against his stomach. His face is warm with arousal and embarrassment, so tightly intertwined Bucky can't figure out where one stops and the other starts. Steve's hands slide up from Bucky's knees, across his pale thighs, until his thumb can glide across the very top where his thigh meets his torso, teasing the sensitive skin there that Bucky himself rarely touches. "Steve!"

"What, baby?" asks Steve, voice warm and measured. He keeps moving his hands, right up over Bucky's stomach, to his ribs and chest, fingertips exploring more smooth skin, seeking out his nipples, tugging and teasing.

"Oh!" gasps Bucky, "I—" He breaks off, squirming, head falling back against the pillows.

"You? You what? Do you want something?" Steve draws each of his nipples between a thumb and finger, rolling them, pinching them.

Bucky clings to his own wrists, holding on tight to keep from using his hands. His cock is absolutely throbbing, a thick string of precome leaking from the tip. Bucky's eyes sting from unshed tears, and he shakes his head against the pillow. "Please! Please, I need—"

Steve presses a palm firmly over Bucky's mouth.

It's not the first time Steve's physically stopped him from speaking; he clamped Bucky's jaw shut to quiet him yesterday, and while it had awakened something in Bucky then, this time his reaction is a lot stronger: he moans sharply, body jerking into the pressure, and his cock jumps, spurting a bit of precome.

"Shhh," murmurs Steve firmly. "You hush right now, baby. I don't need to hear from you, as sweet as your pleas are. You know why?"

Bucky blinks wide at him, eyes watering, and makes a soft, questioning "mmph?" noise.

"Because you don't know what you need, and it's silly to beg for it," says Steve. "I know what you need. I know when to give it to you. So if you can't help yourself, then I'll help you. That includes shutting you up, if necessary."

Bucky shudders. Steve is going to control all of him, and he realizes, with a fresh burst of arousal, that this also means he will get to control Bucky's senses.

Oh, god.

With one hand still gagging him, Steve wraps his other hand firmly around Bucky's cock, making him jerk and whine desperately. Steve is very strong, and Bucky can't move a whole lot when Steve is leaning his weight on him like this.

So, with Bucky trapped, Steve starts to jerk him slowly, while keeping Bucky silent but for his soft whimpers.

It is without a doubt the most intense experience of Bucky’s life. Everything is narrowed and shut out but Steve and what Steve is making him feel. His grip is tight and a little rough, the calluses on his hand different and softened now with years living this extravagant life. Steve jerks him in efficient, rhythmic strokes, his thumb sweeping just under the leaking head, dragging that moisture down, giving something slick and warm for Bucky to feel.

Bucky moans, the sound smothered and desperate.

"There you go, you see how much better that is? You don’t have to think about any of this, you just need to enjoy it, huh? Just be a sweet boy for me," says Steve, his voice calm and collected, that deep edge to it that Bucky just wants to hear every day, every moment.

With his legs spread and held back by Steve’s knees, and his hands kept behind his back just because Steve said so, Bucky doesn’t have much leverage either. He can’t quicken the pace, can’t push into Steve’s grip.

He feels hypnotized, his gaze locked onto Steve, onto his eyes, only able to look away when Steve looks down too. But inevitably, they lock right back onto his piercing blue gaze.

Bucky’s noises increase without him really processing it either, a distressed whine building, the pleasure coiling tight and hot. Everything feels like so much and he’s going to come any second now, doesn’t know how he held out this long to begin with.

And then Steve’s thumb starts rubbing over his slit, again and again and Steve murmurs, like an afterthought, "You can come anytime, baby."

Bucky does, feels it rush through him, pulsing out of his cock as his thighs shake and his stomach twitches and his head falls back against the pillows.

He’s sensitive, hyper-aware of Steve's firm hand milking every last drop of come out of his body while he shudders through his orgasm, moans muffled by Steve.

Fatigue sweeps through him quickly and he slumps limp with a whine, panting raggedly. Steve releases his dick and removes his hand, taking a tissue to wipe away the come as Bucky lies there, stunned, dazed eyes on him.

"See how good that was?" rumbles Steve, voice deep. "Have you ever made yourself come like that?"

Bucky can't speak, even though Steve's hand isn't over his mouth anymore. He shakes his head, licking his lips.

"Didn't think so," agrees Steve. "You're so responsive. Such a good boy. I can see we're going to have a lot of fun together. My tastes run a little..." Steve pauses, cocking his head. "I've been told I can be overwhelming. But I don't think you and I will have that problem, do you?"

Bucky shakes his head again eagerly. Steve can overwhelm him any time. Steve can do anything with him, as long as he keeps letting Bucky feel that good.

"I'll keep it simple, tonight," says Steve, and he rises up on his heels, big and broad and so beautiful Bucky kind of wants to weep. He opens a drawer and takes out lube and a condom. "I still want to fuck you, sweetheart. That was just a bit of a preview, to help you relax."

Bucky opens his mouth and all that comes out is a strangled whine, because watching Steve squeeze lube onto his fingers is making him feel lightheaded.

Those fingers are going to—

Bucky gasps at the slick, intimate touch, two of Steve's fingers sliding flat over his hole.

"You really are a treat," murmurs Steve, keeping the touch firm but not rushing anything either. Or maybe it’s all rushing. Bucky’s never had an orgasm with another person and now he’s going to be fucked in Steve’s expensive penthouse, on his expensive sheets, after Steve spent a small fortune on him today.

It has Bucky feeling—something, he’s just not sure what. Maybe he’s thinking too hard. Maybe he just needs to enjoy this, enjoy that it’s all out of his hands, that Steve is going to decide and make him feel whatever Steve wants him to feel.

With that thought in mind, he takes a breath and relaxes under Steve’s touch. He can feel himself opening up to the steady pressure, the coaxing rhythm. His breath catches and Steve smiles at him, his other hand gliding up and down Bucky’s thigh, petting him, soothing him.

"That’s it," says Steve, one finger sliding in slow, slow. "Such a good boy for me."

It's—not bad. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't exactly feel good, either. Bucky's never really played with himself like this, and the stretch of his rim, the pressure of Steve's finger, is weird before it's good.

Still, the praise alongside it, and Steve's other hand moving over his body, stokes his arousal, pushes him past unfamiliar discomfort into pleasure very quickly. Steve seems to want to take his time with him, working him open with the kind of patience that is likely to drive Bucky to madness.

He fingers him so slowly, and for so long, that Bucky's dick start to fatten up again, arousal pooling hot in the base of his belly as he squirms on Steve's hand. He's kept his hands behind his back, legs spread, an ache building in his thighs. He's good and still for Steve, he is being good and Steve is telling him he's good, he's a good boy, he is—

Moaning, soft, arching, grinding down onto Steve's fingers, pressed deep inside him. Sweat has broken out over his skin, and pleasure ripples through him.

Steve tucks his thumb just behind Bucky's balls, presses firmly, and an electric shock jolts up his spine just as Steve crooks his fingers inside him and rubs over the same spot, in and out.

His cock is red with arousal now, dripping against his stomach, over-sensitive still because it’s so close to his last orgasm and he hasn’t gotten himself hard again that fast in so long! He usually just...gets off quick and furious, one and done.

But Steve is dragging it out, teasing and toying and playing Bucky’s body like an instrument he’s expertly tuned. Bucky wants to beg but he knows he shouldn’t, doesn’t need to because Steve decides, Steve will give him what he needs. Doesn’t mean he can stifle the noises Steve is drawing out of him. Every sound is more embarrassing than the last, but Steve just praises him.

Steve pulls his fingers free and when Bucky whimpers, Steve hushes him. "Shh, Bucky, I’m going to fuck you now. Do you want me to stop?"

Just the thought makes Bucky’s throat feel tight. He shakes his head.

"Okay, that’s good, you’re so good for me," mutters Steve, reaching for the condom and carefully rolling it onto his cock in full view of Bucky, making sure he sees, and then he slicks himself up and shuffles in even closer.

Bucky feels drunk on sensation.

His mind is slow, fuzzy, focused only on Steve, heavy and solid between his legs, on the weight of his hands on him. Steve moves with the same effortless confidence that seems to propel him forward through everything he does, whether he's getting ready to fuck Bucky or he's just making a sandwich. His big hand is wrapped around the base of his own hard cock, guiding himself in, and when the head nudges against Bucky's rim, he flushes bodily with how filthy it feels.

Bucky's virginity—it's fake, it means nothing, it's a societal construct, it doesn't matter that he's 23 years old—has never really bothered him. But there's something about this, laid out for Steve like he's something precious, like this moment is special, that is really doing it for him.

"Breathe out," murmurs Steve, and then he starts to push in, slow. Bucky exhales a trembling breath, which shifts into a groan as Steve's cock breaches his hole.

Steve is patient in this too, a slow and steady press that allows Bucky to open up around him, to accept each inch, little by little. He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but at some point he processes Steve saying, "Open your eyes for me, I want to see you."

So Bucky does, opens his eyes and feels overwhelmed at seeing Steve so close, right there, staring back.

"You feel good around me, Bucky," he says, low and warm and Bucky whines, bearing down as Steve slips fully inside of him, filling him up. "So good for me."

Bucky nods mindlessly, shivering as ripples around Steve's cock, arching into it. "Steve!"

"I know, I know, baby," says Steve, leaning forward. He pushes fingers into Bucky's thick hair, tips his head back so Steve can kiss him. "That's good, you're taking me so well."

Bucky can't think to answer, just tries to respond to Steve's kisses, chasing the sweet sensation of his tongue as Steve starts to rock back out and then slide deep again. And then again.

Steve leans back again, gathering Bucky's legs up in the crook of his arms, folding him in half as he gives him another slow thrust and—

"Oh!" he sobs.

"Yeah, there you go," says Steve, his own voice rough.

Yeah, there he goes, right out of his own body. Just vacating his corporeal form and vaporizing into amorphous pleasure.

Steve is heavy and thick, he is inside him, hips moving steady, in and out, filling him up, until Bucky is overflowing with heat. There's nothing for him to do—

He can't really move, with Steve pressed down over him like this, splayed wide and open, but Steve doesn't want him to move, so the flare of anxiety filters away before he can process it. He kisses, and is kissed, and all the while, Steve moves in him, the bone-deep intimacy of his cock stretching Bucky open, targeting the very core of his pleasure.

Vulnerable, exposed, and—cherished.

Steve takes his time, makes sure he feels it, angled deep for Bucky's prostate. Bucky becomes insistently aware of his own cock, trapped between their bellies, throbbing with need every time Steve thrusts, the head of him dragging nerve-bright over Bucky's senses.

"Ah," gasps Bucky, strung tight, shuddering. "Ah, fuck, Steve. Steve!"

"I've got you," Steve rumbles, hoarse.

That little crack in his voice, knowing he's undone by this too, unravels Bucky further. He thinks he might come like this, just from Steve's cock inside him and the slick friction against his own erection.

He has a wild, stray thought, that maybe he was waiting for Steve all along, maybe he was meant for Steve, to come along and control every part of him, pin him to a bed and make him feel more than he even knew was possible. He can't think of any other explanation. He can't think.

Steve's mouth is warm and wet, soft kisses exchanged between ragged breaths. "So good, Buck, you're so good. Such a good, sweet boy for me. Stay with me, feel it, feel how perfect you are around my cock. Want you to come like this, think you can."

Bucky shudders, the crest of pleasure almost enough, almost—

"Come for me, sweet boy," whispers Steve.

Bucky does, eyes burning as tears stream down and his cock pulses and his whole body tries to curl up, protect himself from the overwhelming sensation. But he can't, can't do anything but feel it as Steve fucks him straight through it, held in place.

When the world finally catches up to him enough that he manages to suck in a gasp of air, whimpering with every continued plunge of Steve's cock, Steve tucks his face to Bucky's neck and groans as his hips jerk with his own orgasm, riding out the waves of pleasure.

Steve seems to lose steam, but he doesn't stop entirely; his hips stutter, slow, pressing deep, cock softening in Bucky, until Bucky shouts, oversensitive and electric.

"Hey," croons Steve, pulling out with a wet sound, his lips brushing soft over Bucky's brow. "It's okay, I'm sorry, we're done, we're done."

"Holy shit," mumbles Bucky, catching his breath, head spinning. "Holy shit, Steve."

Steve chuckles, deep voice rumbling against Bucky's chest. "Was that good?"

"Good," mumbles Bucky. He feels—wrecked. Overcooked. His limbs are all heavy and weak, like he just ran a long, long distance and just collapsed to the ground, muscles twitching. "Was that good, he asks."

Steve, correctly, looks smug, nipping sharply at Bucky's lower lip. "Don't be smart."

"Of course it was good," groans Bucky. "But I also have nothing to compare it to. I need...to collect evidence. Scientifically."

"Oh I see," says Steve dryly. "You need some more clinical trials? I think you're done for tonight, personally."

"Well, if you say so," sighs Bucky. He's too tired, feels too good to argue. Steve will hopefully fuck him again soon, though. That was amazing.

"That's right," says Steve, laughing a little. He leans in and presses a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "And I've got lots of fun things planned for you. We're gonna give you lots of examples for comparison, but right now: sleep."

Steve carefully disposes of the condom and then goes about getting them both comfortably tucked into the bed. "JARVIS, lights, please."

The lights go down and Bucky lets himself be pulled against Steve, drifting easily to sleep.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night to pee, his bladder an insistent pressure, and he has to squirm away from Steve who does not want to let go. He stumbles his way out of the bed and to the bathroom, little lights along the baseboard coming on with each step to guide him toward the toilet. Weird.

Once he's finished (sweet relief), he washes his hands and starts back toward the bed. When he gets there, Steve is awake and staring at him in the darkness, pulling him close again. "All done?"

"Y-yeah," says Bucky, voice a rough whisper, even though there's no one to wake up, it's only them in the house.

"Mmm," hums Steve sleepily, his big, broad hand flat against Bucky's stomach, rubbing in gentle circles that make Bucky shiver.

Feeling quite suddenly wide awake, Bucky squirms a little, only for Steve to tighten his grip on all of him, scooping him back against Steve's broad chest and cuddling him.

Spooned. Bucky is being spooned.

There's really nothing to complain about. It feels amazing; Steve's a very firm, solid presence behind and around him, and there's something weirdly nice about being so...contained. Steve's face is mashed up to the back of Bucky's neck, his breath tickling his skin. Bucky is very aware of their nudity, which is kind of ridiculous considering they just fucked and were more than just nude in the dark together, but he remains aware of it, just the same.

Probably because Steve's palm is tight against his belly, fingertips pressed into his skin, and, oh...Steve's cock is half hard against the curve of Bucky's ass.

Bucky stifles a moan, trying to close his eyes and force himself to go back to sleep. God, this is so crazy. Yesterday, he moved in with this man, and today...

He's had a lot of firsts, today. He shivers as Steve's fingers skate over Bucky's smooth chest.

"Shhh," whispers Steve, lips brushing against his skin, the nape of his neck, along his hairline. "Shhh, you don't need that kind of excitement right now, do you? You don't want me to just hitch up your leg and push inside you..."

Bucky whimpers, the heat of Steve's words washing over him, making him sweat. Steve can't just do that, though, won't. He's not wearing a condom and Bucky's not really ready, but oh god, Bucky kind of wants that.

Steve's hand continues its idle circles over his skin, now across his collar bone, and then teasing up until his thumb sweeps over his Adam's apple, and Bucky swallows thickly. "Steve," he whispers.

"No, go on back to sleep, think we'll save that for another time, hmm?" Steve's hand is warm and gentle around his throat now, not pressing or heavy, just touching him. Steve's knee slides up between Bucky's legs, and he curls more firmly around him. "Sleep, Bucky."

Sleep! Right, just go to sleep, easy. His dick is throbbing, and he can feel every sensitive part of himself where he's pressed against Steve's firm body, holding him still. Steve is cuddling him a bit like Bucky is a body pillow. Just that little thought makes him shudder, then go limp. He's an object. Objects don't move.

Steve exhales noisily, lips against his skin, and seemingly goes back to sleep.

It's longer for Bucky, dick hard, with Steve's thigh between his legs and his hand circling his throat.

When he does finally drift off, he dreams vividly of sex.

No matter what he does, he can't get off, until he wakes suddenly and finds he rolled over half onto his stomach while he slept, with Steve's weight mostly on top of him, and he's rutting desperately into the mattress.

"Ungh," he groans, muffled into the pillow. Next to his ear, Steve chuckles, hoarse with sleep, and then he tucks his arms under Bucky's armpits, locks his hands around his shoulders, and rolls them bodily over, so that Steve's on his back, with Bucky lying on top of him, stunned as he blinks up at the ceiling, hips moving into empty air.

"Ah, ah," chides Steve, a fucking immovable mountain under him. Bucky feels, ridiculously, like a turtle flipped onto his shell. He's not fully restrained but he goes still anyway.

"S-sorry," he gasps, stupid with sleep. "I was dreaming! I didn't... I wasn't..."

Steve nuzzles his jaw, his tone mild as he asks, "You weren’t? You weren’t about to come all over my sheets, pressing your greedy cock against them?"

Bucky’s eyes burn. "I didn’t mean to!"

"Well, if you didn’t mean to," says Steve. "Guess I’ll have to keep it in mind, that you can’t control yourself. I’ll just have to do it for you moving forward."

Bucky is dizzy and disoriented, still hopelessly hard, and the shame is only making it worse somehow. He feels very much like he just spilled coffee all over something important.

Tears slip down his cheek and he nods. "Please, I—I’ll try harder, just need your help."

If he were in his right mind right now, he would never say this, never ask for help, never want it either. But something about Steve makes it feel inevitable and okay.

"Shhh, shhh, baby," rumbles Steve, and his teeth find Bucky's earlobe, drawing a yelp out of him at the sharp pinch. "I know, I know you need help. You're new at all of this, you don't know anything. That's why I'm here."

His hand releases one shoulder, glides down to wrap firm around Bucky's straining cock. He doesn't stroke, just squeezes, and Bucky jerks, crying out. "This little thing belongs to me. You don't get to come when you want, and if you need a bit of training to learn control, then I'm happy to give it to you."

God. Bucky's entire body burns with humiliation and he squirms, moaning. It's like he's a dog. Training him.

"But it was your first time last night," Steve sighs. "And you were so good." With that, his hand begins to move, jerking Bucky off with quick, firm strokes, amping him up immediately, until he's trembling, Steve wrapped around him like a blanket.

Bucky can’t even think to beg, he’s not supposed to, Steve knows. Steve will take care of him. He—

"Go ahead, baby. Come."

Bucky comes with a sob, squirming helplessly for a moment before he goes limp. Steve kisses his jaw once, milking him through it until Bucky makes a distressed noise, and then Steve sits them both up, smearing Bucky’s come against his stomach. "Let’s take a shower."

Bucky just nods dumbly as Steve manhandles him up and toward the bathroom.

Steve is methodical in this, too, getting the shower on to just the right temperature, the heavy rain setting falling down over them. He lathers Bucky up with fragrant-smelling body wash—Steve’s, so Bucky is going to smell like him. Then he washes Bucky’s hair, conditions it after. Only once they’re both all clean does he back Bucky up and push him to his knees.

Oh. Oh, he wants...

Steve's hand goes to his jaw, pressing at the hinge of it, angling his mouth open with firm pressure, and Bucky wants to tell him he doesn't know how to do this, he doesn't know if it will be good, but Steve just says, "you don't have to do anything," and then he's feeding Bucky his cock.

It's a heady rush of sensation, Steve's cock hot and thick and soapy-clean against his tongue, and Bucky feels it when he hardens further between his lips, smooth and firm.

Steve fists his hand in Bucky's wet hair, pulling his head back and sliding in, slow, slow. Bucky's eyes water anyway, and he jerks a little as he swallows reflexively, mouth flooding with saliva. Steve pulls out again to let him breathe and recover.

"Sorry," he gasps, face flaming.

"It's okay," soothes Steve. "I went a little too far. Try and relax." And then, "it feels good when you swallow," and those words, for some reason, fall like stones in the base of Bucky's belly, arousal curling right around him.

His mouth feels good. He can make Steve feel good, he just has to relax and take it easy, and Steve will take what he wants from him.

Then, hopefully, breakfast.

Steve doesn't drag it out, which Bucky is both disappointed and relieved by. He loves this feeling of being useful to Steve, making Steve feel good. It makes him float pleasantly, Steve's back shielding him from most of the water, his cock sliding over his tongue again and again. There's a chill in the air from not being directly under the water anymore, and his knees ache. He pushes those things aside because Steve will take care of him.

Steve comes with a low moan, cock twitching in Bucky's mouth, down his throat. Bucky gags a little, struggles to swallow but ultimately manages most of it. Steve pulls him upright and kisses him clean after that, pressed against the tile as Steve licks into his mouth and over his chin, making sure every drop is accounted for.

When he's satisfied, he shuts off the water and dries them both off with big fluffy towels. Bucky still feels nice, a pleasant buzz in his skin, but nothing overwhelming. He can still focus, still aware that he's getting really hungry. His stomach gives a rumble of agreement, and Steve chuckles. "Alright, I'll feed you. What would you like?"

Bucky sucks in his bottom lip, pondering such a big question. "Um, french toast. And bacon. Does your kitchen make croissants? I love croissants!"

Steve smiles indulgently. "Yes. JARVIS, did you get all that?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Make it two of everything and some coffee and juice—orange, and—"

"Grape?" asks Bucky hopefully.

"Orange and grape," confirms Steve.

It's crazy. He can order anything he wants, and they'll just make it and bring it up.

After such a long time unable to afford more than the very basics, in limited quantity, he feels like a glutton sitting down at the table with Steve and staring down an enormous plate of his breakfast.

Four slices! Four slices of toast, crispy and brown and covered in powdered sugar and real maple syrup, with a side of crispy bacon, a big plate of fragrant croissants, juice, and coffee...

For a second, he's paralyzed. He may have sold his soul to get here, but so far it's treating him pretty well.

"Eat up," says Steve. "You've burned a lot of energy."

"Don't have to tell me twice," says Bucky, digging into his toast.

Steve is a bit more sedate in pace but eats a considerable amount. It makes sense, he's such a big guy, all muscle. Bucky hasn't seen him go to the gym yet, but he must.

He desperately wants to ask what the plan is for today, but he doesn't know if he's allowed. It's Saturday, but he can't imagine they're going to spend the whole day having sex? After all that last night and this morning?

He doesn't know what being here entails. Is he just supposed to be available for when Steve does want him?

"You've practically got smoke coming out your ears," comments Steve.

Bucky flushes. "Just, um. Wondering about plans? For today?"

Steve hums. "I have to do a little bit of work. And I'm going to the gym. You can have the day to yourself if you like. But we're having dinner together and you'll sleep with me again tonight."

Bucky turns that over in his head. All day to himself, then tonight it's all Steve again. "Okay, um... is it okay if I go to the library?"

Steve lifts his eyebrow. "Yes, but is it a book you want? There's a library here, next to my office. And we can always order things to add to it. Expanding the library is more than fine."

"Oh," says Bucky, cheeks going red. "No, I—I just need to reply to an email, and I'm really bad at doing it on my new phone still."

Steve's eyebrows go up. "Oh, right, of course. JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Have one of the new Stark laptops couriered over, usual protocols for a non-employee."

"Yes, sir."

"You can still go to the library if you want," continues Steve, turning his attention back to Bucky. "But you don't have to just to use a computer. That one will be yours to keep. If you just want to get out of the house for a little while, there's a nice coffee shop a few blocks from here. You could bring the laptop there if you want."

Bucky is gobsmacked. He nods vaguely, clears his throat and says, "th-thanks," and then Steve gets up, takes their cleared plates to the sink, and says, "I'll be out until about two. If you need anything, ask JARVIS."

"Okay," says Bucky. "I think I'll go to the coffee shop, then."

Steve smiles.

About fifteen minutes after Steve leaves, JARVIS says, "the courier has arrived, Mr. Barnes. He requires your signature to confirm delivery, but I have already given him a tip. If you could let him in, please?"

Bucky hops up, rushing to the door. The courier takes his signature, nods, and leaves, and then Bucky is left holding a slim box in the entryway. Carrying it into the living room, he extracts a sleek black laptop, so light Bucky worries he'll snap it in half. When he opens it, it powers on and the login screen reads, "James Barnes."

Wow.

"Does it need a password?" he asks.

"Press your thumb to the trackpad."

Bucky does, and it logs on. "Wow," he whispers. "Thanks, JARVIS."

He doesn't end up going to the coffee shop. It's been so long since he's had unlimited access to the internet and a real computer, he kind of gets sucked in.

Bucky spends the first hour checking his email and reviewing the information he received about birth certificates and hospital records, writing down some phone numbers and addresses.

Another hour goes by as he searches as much as he can about his first foster home when he was four. Sometimes, it feels like a dream, that he ever had a family, a mother and a father who loved him, a sister. Maybe it's all his imagination. The foster system certainly seems to think so. There's barely any record of Becca at all. A female sibling is mentioned once, in his intake form, and then...nothing.

He...thinks he remembers her being hurt worse in the accident that killed his parents, and there's a part of him that is terrified she died right along with them and no one ever thought to tell him. But she has to be out there, someplace, right?

"Mr. Barnes?" asks JARVIS, interrupting Bucky's reverie.

"Uh, yes, JARVIS?"

"It is just past noon. Would you like to order lunch to be delivered?"

"Oh! Uh, am I allowed to cook? Is there...food?"

"There are a few things, yes," says JARVIS. "You're allowed to use anything in the kitchen you like. If there are foods you'd like, I can add it to the weekly list."

"Right, okay, I'll just... look." He gets up and wanders into the kitchen, opening and closing things. Eventually, he lands on a BLT sandwich and he steams some broccoli and adds cheese on top.

Steve comes in as he's starting to clean up, a little early. He's dripping sweat, a towel around his neck, chest bare, and Bucky goes a little cross-eyed seeing him. "Uh, hey."

Steve smirks. "Hey, Buck. How was your day?"

"Oh, good! It was good. Do you want a sandwich?"

Steve shakes his head. "I had a protein shake. I'll save my real appetite for later."

Bucky can't tell if that's innuendo or not. Maybe Bucky is just horny.

He doesn't remember ever being this... Aware, sexually, of men around him, even when he was going to bars. Maybe it just wasn't right. None of them were right, but Steve is his type, and now everything feels sexually charged. Like he's undergone some kind of awakening in his dick.

"Did you go out?" asks Steve, filling a glass of water and then draining it, head tipped back, throat bobbing, and Bucky's mouth goes dry.

"N-no," says Bucky, eyes rapt on Steve's body. "Stayed in. Got distracted by the new computer, which, thank you. It's amazing. I've never had anything that nice."

"Of course," says Steve, filling the glass again. "That's the latest prototype, not released to the public yet, so there are safeguards on it. It will only open for you and if someone else tries to use it, it will automatically alert JARVIS for retrieval. But the upside is that it's years ahead of anything on the market right now. So when you head to school, it should be capable of seeing you through."

Oh, right. When Bucky leaves Steve's...control, in a year. When all this is over and he has to go figure out how to run his own life again. Jesus. "Oh cool, thanks," Bucky forces himself to say. "That's good."

Steve nods, draining the glass again. "Everything okay with your email? Not apartment related right? Nothing I can help with?"

Bucky shakes his head quickly. He's not telling Steve about this. It's too much. Too pathetic. 'No one wanted me as a kid and I think I might have a twin out there but I can barely remember her and I can't find what happened to her.' It's too much. Bucky can handle one thing on his own. "Just making sure the last of my shifts were covered, from my job at Starbucks."

Steve studies him for a little while, and Bucky gets the feeling like Steve knows he's lying, but then Steve nods. "Good. I'm glad you won't have to go back there."

"Me too."

"I'm going to take a shower," says Steve, dabbing at his brow with the towel over his shoulder. He's glistening. He is absolutely glistening with sweat, standing over Bucky with one hand perched on his hip, like he was chiseled out of marble and then sprayed down with a fine mist. "Bucky?"

Oh, he was supposed to say words just then. "Uh," he stammers, his brain kickstarting back into motion. "Okay, I'm...uh. I'm just...going to..." He swallows hard. "Finish cleaning up in here." There. A complete thought.

Steve smirks, eyes darkening a little as he looks knowingly at Bucky. "Okay. I'll be out in a bit."

He saunters out, and Bucky wipes down the counter and wonders how the hell he's going to survive Steve Rogers, muscled sex god, for an entire year. Then, completely unbidden, he imagines himself doing exactly what he's doing now, but naked, with Steve watching, and his knees go weak so fast he nearly goes face first into the marble countertop.

He stands there, panting slightly, white knuckling the counter until he has control of himself again. There's gotta be something wrong with him, that he wants things like that from Steve. That's not normal, right? Fuck, he wishes he'd done anything before he met Steve, just to...to have a frame of reference for all of this.

Bucky knows it's not normal to suddenly find yourself the kept boy of some multimillionaire, but he doesn't know anything else about sex or relationships or how this even goes.

Fuuuuck.

Making himself breathe, he finishes up in the kitchen and then heads to his own bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth. He's not sure if Steve is planning to take him out to dinner, so he does his hair too and takes his time shaving what little has grown back on his jaw. The rest of his body is still smooth...probably because it was waxed and not shaved. By the time he hears Steve's shower shut off he's so anxious for Steve to…to what?

To tell him what to do, he realizes.

He's not even sure what he should be doing, or if he should change into something or...or what. So he ends up heading back out to the living room and staring out the window with his knees pulled up against his chest.

"Bucky?"

Bucky jumps at Steve’s voice, turning his head sharply, and he must have a concerning expression on his face because Steve's brows draw together and he approaches slowly, sliding the palm of his hand over the back of Bucky's neck. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," says Bucky immediately, even though his heart is pounding and he just had an existential crisis over whether or not he was allowed to make a choice about his clothing.

Steve's hand squeezes warningly. "Don't lie to me."

"I—I just... I wasn't sure what you wanted me to do, so I kind of..." He licks his lips, turning his gaze down to the floor. "Shut down a bit."

"Hmm," murmurs Steve. "Did you want more detailed instructions? I should have given you something to do."

"Are we going out?" Bucky asks desperately. "And if we are, are you going to pick my clothes for me?"

"Yes, and yes," says Steve. "Come on, don't worry."

Steve guides him up, walks him to his bedroom, and he picks out an outfit for Bucky to wear. Dark jeans and a soft sweater. Then he sits on the edge of Bucky's bed as he gets changed.

"I thought we could some window shopping. It's mild out, and it's snowing," says Steve, as Bucky pulls the sweater over his head. As Steve gives him more information to work with, Bucky calms down a little. "If you like anything you see, we can get it. A little treat."

Bucky knows that part of this gig is being presentable and attractive while he hangs off Steve's arm: youthful eye candy. Maybe this is that. Do people recognize Steve? Is he New York famous?

"You know, you're allowed to ask me things, Bucky. I may not want you begging, but that doesn't mean you're not allowed to be curious," says Steve, pulling Bucky close to stand between Steve's legs as he reaches up to start pushing a belt through each of the loops on Bucky's jeans. "If it's something you don't need to worry about, I'll tell you."

Bucky breathes out, relaxing as Steve buckles the belt, fingertips brushing against his stomach before he pulls them back and straightens Bucky's sweater for him. "Do...people know who you are? I mean, around Manhattan and all? Like do you end up in the society pages?"

"You didn't read the articles when you googled me?" asks Steve, seemingly surprised. His hands rest firmly on Bucky's hips, and when Bucky shakes his head, he smiles indulgently. "Yes, Buck. I do end up in the society pages. Not as frequently as Tony, but people are curious about me. I was relatively unknown, from a nobody family, and I made waves fast at Stark Industries. Tony is one of my closest friends, and I've made him a lot of money. Made myself a lot of money. And before Tony settled down with Pepper, before I tried to settle down, we...were often seen on the party circuit."

Bucky licks his lips. "Before...you tried to settle down?"

"Those papers you spilled coffee all over? Divorce papers."

Bucky feels the colour drain out of his face. "Oh my god," he whispers, horrified. "No wonder you fired me."

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I shouldn't have been so impulsive. But it was not a good day, or a good week, or a good year, personally. Anyway. I was married, now I'm not. And while I wasn't interested in hitting the town the way I used to, you presented..." Steve pauses meaningfully, "A unique opportunity."

Bucky hesitates. He could google the details, later, or he could just...ask. "Were you married to a man?"

"No," says Steve simply. "A woman. Peggy. Ultimately, we're a bit too headstrong to find a dynamic that works for us. Maybe one day, we can be friends again, but for now... We're not really speaking."

"I'm sorry," says Bucky sincerely. "That's...wow."

"Yeah," says Steve, and he pats Bucky firmly on the ass. "Enough of that. Come on, we're going to take a nice walk, and I'm going to buy you something expensive."

Which is exactly what he does.

The new wardrobe extends to outerwear, so Bucky ends up the most stylishly dressed he's ever been, wearing a wool coat, leather gloves, a checked scarf, and a cashmere beanie. Cashmere. Jesus.

Steve loops their arms together, and they walk leisurely through SoHo, peering in windows and gaping at prices while the snow swirls gently down, soft fat flakes that gather on their bodies.

Bucky halts to stare at a fancy pair of wireless headphones and Steve murmurs, "Want 'em?" in his ear.

They're noise-cancelling, shiny and soft, like they'd be a cloud over his ears. His eyes dart toward the SALE! sign, marking them down by 10 whole percent...to $355. He can feel Steve's heat even through the layers of their clothes and coats. His proximity is making Bucky feel safe and wanted, and he knows that if he says yes, Steve will buy them for him, no questions asked—other than if Bucky wants them in classic black or sharp silver. And he thinks... He thinks it would make Steve happy, to buy them for Bucky.

He takes a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yes, please."

Steve beams at him, brushing a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "Good boy."

Bucky shivers, shutting his eyes a moment. When he opens them again, the sun seems brighter through the snow, and Steve is guiding him into the store. The clerk looks ecstatic to see them, happy to talk up the headphones Steve asks about, as well as a fancy carrying case (who needs a carrying case for headphones?) and mention the comprehensive warranty for just an extra $40. Steve takes it all while Bucky tries not to feel so desperately hot for Steve buying him things because that's stupid and greedy and awful.

But it's not the things. It's really not. It's...the way he feels when Steve takes care of him like this.

"Thank you," he whispers as they exit the store, the bag clutched in his free hand, the other looping through Steve's arm again.

"You're welcome, Buck."

Steve buys him a couple of other things as the afternoon wears on, but they're much smaller; some fancy chocolate, flavoured coffee, a pair of silver cufflinks.

They go for dinner at a very upscale restaurant, where there is a set menu, and everything is served on big plates in tiny portions, but everything is delicious. The servers just...keep bringing plates out, course after course, and by the time they're served dessert, Bucky is genuinely full.

Steve calls a car for them to go home, having wandered a considerable distance, and soon enough, they back in the penthouse, shedding bags and coats and snow.

"Thank you," says Bucky, feeling warm and full and thoroughly spoiled.

"You're welcome," says Steve, brushing a kiss against Bucky's temple as they go inside. "I'm happy to, Buck. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah," says Bucky. "Yeah, I did. It's...maybe the nicest day I've ever had."

Steve looks a bit like his preening, hearing that. "Good. Why don't you go get cleaned up, get changed into your pajamas? Then come join me in my room."

"Okay," breathes Bucky, his heart beating a little faster.

Bucky rushes through it, leaving his new stuff on the floor, stripping out of his clothes in the bathroom, deciding 'get cleaned up' probably means a quick shower wouldn't go amiss. He towels off quickly, pulls on his pajamas, and slows down only when he reaches Steve's room.

Steve has turned down the bed, lying across it wearing only his boxers. There's a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose as he peers down at a book in his hands. When Bucky comes in, he closes it and puts it aside. "C'mere," he says, gesturing.

Bucky climbs up onto the bed, sighing happily as Steve grabs him by the hips to pull him the rest of the way, putting Bucky between his legs, Bucky's back to Steve's chest, leaning against him. Steve is warm, his skin smooth and soft against Bucky's back, and Bucky wonders if Steve gets his chest waxed too. He's not quite up to asking that, though, instead enjoying the mental visual of Steve getting laid out on a table by Selene. He grins to himself, and Steve kisses his cheek.

"What are you so happy about?" he murmurs, arms firm as they wrap around Bucky, keeping him right there.

"It's a good day, still," he says, hoping the truth is enough to cover up what he's not saying.

Steve accepts it easily, humming a bit. "Well, I have another treat for you, a different kind of treat."

Bucky squirms a bit, getting comfortable, and Steve's arms tighten around him. Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh. Thought, you know, since you don't have very much experience, since I'll be teaching you everything I want you to know, maybe a little visual aid might help. Would you like that, Bucky? Do you want to learn how to make me happy?" asks Steve.

The rush of heat and desire that comes over him at those words draws out an involuntary moan that he bites his lip to stifle. He wants it so badly. "Yes, please."

"I'm going to show you some of my favorite videos, and we'll watch them together so I can see how you respond to it all," explains Steve, as if he is a hot professor explaining how the class will be run at the start of the semester.

Holy shit. Holy shit, Bucky is gonna burst into flames. Even just this, held tightly by Steve and spoken to so evenly about watching porn, is making his dick perk up with interest.

This is fine. They're going to watch porn together. Bucky wants to know what Steve likes.

What Steve likes, evidently, is big beefy men making little twinks cry. It coincides quite neatly with Bucky's interests. Bucky always liked it when big men would hit on him, elbows on the bar as they loomed over him. But it was always a gamble, with strangers. This...

On Steve's big, crystal clear television, the fairly vanilla dick-sucking and ass-fucking leads into something a little more extreme as the big buff top starts to manhandle his twinky partner into a hogtie, pinning him to the floor and very firmly binding his wrists and ankles together and to each other, folding him into an arch.

Eyes wide, Bucky squirms, heat pulsing in his balls. The submissive partner is giving token resistance punctuated by a lot of wanton groaning, until the top gags him. When he starts making helpless muffled noises, a bit of precome stains the front of Bucky's joggers, and he breathes in and out shakily through his nose. Oh boy.

Steve's grip on Bucky tightens slightly, and his hand slides in between the waistband of Bucky's pants and his belly, snaking down to curl around Bucky's swelling cock.

Bucky opens his mouth and lets out a squeak.

"Hmm," hums Steve. "Interesting." He doesn't stroke Bucky. He just...holds him in his hand, and Bucky comes to the brain-melting conclusion that Steve wants to feel whether Bucky is turned on by what he's seeing.

His eyes flutter closed as he moans, and Steve gives his cock a rough squeeze. "Open your eyes, Bucky. Pay attention."

Bucky’s whole body flushes with heat, but he does as he’s told, opening his eyes and tipping his head back against Steve’s shoulder as he watches.

The top has a plug in hand, now, and it’s fairly big, with a narrowed end that he starts to work into the twink’s slicked hole. He presses and presses while the twink squirms and whimpers but takes it, takes it almost all the way, rim stretches around the widest point before the top just...pulls it back out.

Bucky lets out a devastated whine at the same time as the twink on screen, his cock swelling, aching against Steve’s firm grip.

"That wasn’t very nice, was it?" murmurs Steve.

Bucky shakes his head. "No."

"But it doesn’t matter if it’s nice. It matters that his partner wanted it, it matters if I want it, right, Bucky?"

Bucky whimpers. "Yeah," he breathes out. "Just—want to be good for you."

"I know. Such a good boy, aren’t you? And if I wanted to play with your pretty little hole the way they’re doing on the screen, I could, couldn’t I?"

Bucky feels a bit dizzy, head spinning with possibility. "Yes," he whispers, imagining himself just like that, tied up ruthlessly, teased and teased at Steve's leisurely mercy. His cock jumps again in Steve's hand, throbbing now.

"I think you'd like that," Steve says, lips against Bucky's ear. "Judging by how you feel in my hand right now."

"Mmm," Bucky moans, nodding eagerly.

On screen, the top finally lets him have the full length of the plug inside him, pushing it in firmly and twisting at the base to make sure it's secure. Then he adds more ropes, pulled up between the twink's legs and tying them off to hold the plug in place. The twink is breathing raggedly, drooling around the gag, wriggling against the top's invading fingers—pinching, twisting, squeezing. The top blindfolds him, then adds a strap to the harness of the twink's gag that attaches to his ankles, pulling his head up and back, exposing his throat and making him whine in distress.

Bucky bites his lip hard, feeling too big for his skin as arousal builds within him. The top laughs as his partner wriggles and struggles on the floor, getting absolutely nowhere. He shows the camera a small remote, flicks the switch, and then the twink squeals, his ass clenching tight around the plug that presumably just vibrated to life inside him.

"Oh, god," whispers Bucky, groaning thickly, his hips jerking involuntarily.

Steve's thumb sweeps over the head of his cock, and Bucky honestly thinks he might explode.

"Please," says Bucky, unable to keep it in.

"Bucky," says Steve, low and sonorous, cascading over Bucky's senses until he just wants to lay back and let Steve talk to him forever. "You know the only rule, baby."

"No begging," gasps Bucky.

"That's right, and why is that?"

"Because you decide what's best." Tears finally spill over, tracking down his cheeks as he gives into having absolutely no control over this situation.

"That's right. So I want you to lay there and keep watching. You don't want to miss the ending," says Steve.

On the screen, the top has gotten out a wand, running it up and down the length of the twink's cock. Every time it looks like the twink might come, the top takes the wand away and switches to pinching and slapping all across his body. It goes back and forth like that for ages, teasing and torment, again and again. And all the while, Steve rubs slowly, methodically over the head of his cock with his thumb, the rest of his fingers wrapped tight and sure. Steve’s other hand has migrated up to wrap delicately around Bucky's throat again.

Even though Steve described this as finding out how Bucky could please him, this sure feels like it's designed to dig out every latent kink Bucky didn't know he had.

He's trembling in Steve's arms, not restrained in any real way but still trapped by Steve's hands—each wrapped around his cock and his neck. There's a whine in the back of his throat, but he stays in place for Steve as best he can, eyes fixed on the screen. Steve wants him to watch, and so Bucky watches, imagining he's the sobbing twink in the video.

The twink does, eventually, reach orgasm. He comes screaming, all trussed up and leaking tears and dripping come. The top milks him for all he's worth, unties him enough to get his dick inside him, and rides him to completion while the twink can barely move.

Steve's thumb rubs over the slit of Bucky's cock, dragging slowly through the slick gathering there, and Bucky arches and gasps, Steve's hand tightening around his throat.

"This was an interesting experiment," comments Steve, as Bucky sobs out some ragged breaths, shuddering. He's so aroused it kind of hurts, especially with Steve's intense devotion to the most sensitive part of Bucky's cock. "You reacted to pretty much all of it. Have you ever watched porn like this?"

"N-no," moans Bucky.

"Really," laughs Steve breathlessly. "Not only did I get first crack at your luscious ass, I get to uncover all of this? You're a treasure, doll. The best toy I've ever played with. Did any of that scare you?"

Bucky feels like he might pass out from how hard he is. "No," he says, because he can honestly replace that twink with himself and the top with Steve in his mind at any point during the video and his dick will keep drooling out precome. "N-no, I liked it."

Steve hums a bit, nuzzling at Bucky’s jaw and cheek, drifting back to nibble on his ear again. It’s...affectionate, soft and caring. It makes more tears spring to Bucky’s eyes and he has to close them again. It’s probably okay, the movie is over now.

"I like that you liked it, Bucky. You’re such a good, perfect little toy for me," murmurs Steve, voice warm with praise.

Bucky’s breath hitches. "I want to be, want...wanna be whatever you want. I don’t know why, I..."

"I know, it must be a lot for you, hmm? To discover how badly you need this? To have it be with me?"

Bucky shakes his head. "You’re the only reason I’m not freaked out," he admits. Because it’s true. He’s not sure why, why Steve, when Steve has scolded him and fired him and drawn him into this arrangement he doesn’t really understand. It’s been three days, barely, but Bucky trusts him.

Steve is confident. Steve knows how to handle him. Last night Steve made him feel the best that Bucky has ever felt, and then he took such good care of him.

Bucky trusts Steve because even though he doesn't understand Steve, he thinks he finally understands Steve's motivation; a man this rich has needs, and with the money he has, he can afford to buy what he wants to fulfil them. Steve wants sex, which Bucky has given him and will continue to give him. He wants to exert control over Bucky, so he'll let him. And he wants to spoil him (what a hardship).

It's weird and alien to Bucky, who is poor, but hey, this is the kind of shit rich people do, right? He failed at his marriage, so why not try something he can't fail at?

It doesn't bother Bucky that he's paying him for sex. He gets it. And because he gets it, Steve doesn't scare him.

"You're comfortable with me," says Steve. Finally, his hand begins to move over the length of Bucky's cock, reward, maybe, for stroking Steve's ego. "You'd let me treat you like that."

"I know you'd make it..." Bucky pauses to gasp, hips jerking, and focuses on steadying himself. "I know you'd take care of me." He's panting, now. Should he admit the fantasies he's been having? "I want to...to be good for you like that."

"Even if I'm not being very nice?"

How does Bucky explain that's the best part? He chokes on his words completely and then comes unceremoniously over Steve's hand.

Steve keeps stroking him, tight and sure, keeps swiping his thumb over the head. He keeps going until it starts to hurt, starts to be too much, until Bucky is squirming and whining and then—

Steve keeps going, his other hand tightening around Bucky’s throat, not enough to choke him but definitely enough for him to feel it, to be startled in the midst of being so thoroughly overwhelmed.

This must be a test. Steve wants to see if he means it, if Bucky will be good even if Steve is being mean.

And oh god, that shoots a tight coil of desire through him even in the midst of the sharp-edged sensation on his cock. His soft cock gives a twitch, a spurt of come, and Bucky sobs.

Bucky doesn't struggle. It hurts, kind of, and it's uncomfortable, kind of, but the fact of the matter is that this is turning Bucky on, arousal humming under his skin. If Steve wants to torture him like this, then Bucky is okay with that.

He'll keep squirming, and gasping, and occasionally his hips will reflexively try to move away from Steve's firm hand, but he's not struggling like he wants it to stop. He doesn't want it to stop.

When Steve seems to figure that out, he collects the messy smears of come from Bucky's spent cock and uses that to slick the way for two fingers to press inside him.

"Ah!" cries Bucky, clenching around Steve. Steve's hand squeezes around Bucky's throat, almost approvingly. He crooks his fingers at the knuckle, and rubs at Bucky's prostate, humming softly in his ear.

Bucky doesn’t know what to do because he’s never, ever experienced anything like this before. Even last night, getting fucked for the first time, the orgasms were intense, better but still close enough to every orgasm Bucky's ever given himself to feel familiar.

This is different. This never stops; there’s no reprieve, no chance for him to settle back into his own skin. This is just a nonstop assault on his senses.

Steve’s fingers are pressed right against his prostate, causing waves of sensation that are almost like an orgasm and almost like building towards one. Except it’s neither, or both. It’s its own feeling, something new and bright, making Bucky sweat and squirm and cry and want more.

"Steve." Bucky’s own voice sounds distant, far away.

"Mmm?" Hums Steve, kissing his jaw.

"I—I’ve never, w-what are you doing?"

"Oh," says Steve, as if this is an everyday occurrence and Bucky is very cute for not knowing. "I’m just milking your prostate. How does it feel?"

Bucky cries, sniffling a little. "It’s...ah!" he whimpers as another drool of come drips from his soft cock. "S’good, I th-think."

"Yeah," agrees Steve indulgently. "It can be a lot, the first time." He doesn't stop, though. He's not touching Bucky's cock, but apparently he doesn't need to. The weak little reactions of Bucky's cock are nothing compared to the feeling building inside him, the raw arousal growing and growing as Bucky writhes on Steve's deft fingers.

"Mmmohhhh my god," he whispers, stunned. His entire body feels weighted, heavy, slumped helpless in Steve's lap as he manipulates him from the inside out. His thumb brushes Bucky's perineum, targeting the same spot from the outside, and Bucky shouts, nearly jumping out of his skin.

"You're doing great," praises Steve. "Just relax, honey."

"Easy for you to say," groans Bucky, sparks in his belly. "I'm...I'm...uungh, god, I don't know what...ahh, Steve!"

It hits him all at once, snowballing, crashing through him like a hard-edged orgasm, and he seizes up tight, spine arching. His dick never gets with the program at all, just drools messily and stays limp, but he is swamped by post-orgasm fatigue as the pleasure and pain floods his body.

"Ah, fuck," he moans, gasping. "Oh, god, I didn't know that could ha—ah, happen..."

"It doesn’t, for everyone, but you’re such a perfect toy, I knew you’d be a good boy that I could give such a special treat to you," murmurs Steve, slipping his fingers free carefully.

Bucky squirms a bit at the loss of sensation, of not being filled anymore, but Steve’s other hand comes up to cup his jaw, directing his head to the side so Steve can steal deep, slow kisses. Bucky feels completely wiped out, like Steve has found every last little bit of pleasure inside of him and emptied it. He doesn’t think he could move on his own if he tried, and he’s not remotely interested in trying.

It seems Steve’s not interested in making him, either.

Eventually he tips Bucky over onto his stomach, cheek flat to the soft mattress, and then he brings Bucky’s hands behind his back and...puts something on them? Cuffs? Bucky’s not sure. But he doesn’t have to think about where to put them and that’s nice, the relief of it lets him drift.

Steve shifts again, and something slick, blunt, and thick presses against his hole. Bucky mewls weakly, but Steve is patient and firm and determined and Bucky feels himself open under the pressure as Steve’s cock slides in slowly, so slowly.

It feels...it feels...Bucky doesn't know what it feels like.

He's so tired, so completely drained, that he doesn't really have any resistance to the intrusion, his body limp and relaxed. And while there's a sting to the pressure, Steve just pushes his thighs wide, opening his body up, and suddenly he's sinking in deep, bottomed out inside Bucky. Thick and hot, filling him up snugly.

"Unh," mumbles Bucky, feeling thick and syrupy with exhaustion. His eyes have already closed. He's pinned down, held open, stuffed, but he doesn't need to do anything. It’s almost comforting. There's no way he can come, so he doesn't have to worry about getting off.

He yawns. Steve's got this.

Steve goes slowly, using him like a big, yielding toy, like he's just a hole to fill up, and Bucky drifts so hard he actually falls asleep.

Jolts awake again to Steve's hips slapping his ass, the pace faster, and while there's no real pleasure for Bucky here after Steve forcibly pulled it all out of him, he likes this feeling. He likes being warm and safe and useful, while he's all filled up, Steve nuzzling at his hair and murmuring so softly Bucky can't hear it.

Bucky drifts again, the phantom touch of Steve’s lips across his jaw and temple, his shoulder and nape of his neck.

He wakes again only when Steve is pulling out, and only long enough to register Steve unclasping his arms from behind his back and rubbing soothingly over his wrists and forearms and then tucking him close for sleep.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

The next time Bucky wakes up, sunshine is pouring in through the windows. Steve is plastered to his back, snoring. Bucky feels gross and sticky and well fucked and good. He yawns hugely and then wriggles free from Steve’s grasp and makes his way to the bathroom where he’s entirely sure he’s going to piss gallons.

It’s only when he glances down to direct his dick that he realizes he didn’t imagine the cuffs. They’re on his wrists, if not latched together. God, he was bound and fucked last night and he barely remembers it because it was so good he literally passed out.

Bucky takes a mighty piss, washes his hands and his face, and then shuffles back out to find Steve has rolled over onto his back and is watching him through half-lidded eyes, the light catching in his ridiculously long lashes.

"Morning," says Bucky hoarsely. He really is just standing here wearing his come-stained pajamas and a pair of leather cuffs right now. This is his current state of being.

"Morning," replies Steve. He gestures for Bucky to come to him, so Bucky crawls back into bed and accepts a very sloppy, sleepy kiss. As Bucky kneels up over Steve's hips to kiss him, Steve reaches up and palms his ass, his thumb pressing at his hole through his pants.

Bucky squeaks as fabric rubs over his sensitive, slightly-sore rim.

"Hurts?" mumbles Steve, looking at Bucky with an intent look on his face.

"Mmm, sore," says Bucky, a flush creeping over his cheeks. "But...good."

"You were very sweet last night," Steve says, his voice a low rumble. "And I'm already looking forward to what I'm going to do with you tonight."

Bucky's belly warms with interest. How does he say he's excited without sounding like a slut?

Does it even matter? He’s allowed to enjoy this.

They watched truly filthy porn last night and Bucky sat in Steve's lap while he fondled him. Pretty sure 'professional slut' is his job, now. "Do I get a hint?"

Steve cocks his head, eyes narrowing a little. "I've got a lot of toys to try on you."

"Toys?" Bucky says with interest. "What kind of toys?"

"I think it’ll be more fun if it’s a surprise," says Steve, smiling up at Bucky. He pulls him down for another kiss that doesn’t really amp up and when he releases him he adds, "Unfortunately, I do have somewhere I need to be this morning. Plans I made long before deciding to move you in. You’ll be on your own for breakfast but I’ll be back around noon. You should go change and tell JARVIS what you’d like to eat."

Bucky can’t hide the pout that comes over his face. "Do you ever get a day off?"

Steve laughs. "Technically I’m not working. It’s just brunch plans with friends and I can’t bring a date."

Oh. Right. Because they’re not friends and it would be weird for Bucky to go to that kind of gathering. "Okay, I’ll keep myself busy."

"Thank you," murmurs Steve, kissing his cheek before he maneuvers Bucky out of the way so he can get up and go to the shower.

Bucky sits there a moment wondering why he feels stupid. Of course Steve will make plans that Bucky won’t be included in. They’re not actually dating. They’re not romantic. An event, sure, that would be appropriate for Bucky to go with Steve. Being seen in public together: great! Spending actual quality time with him and his friends? No, off limits.

Don't go there he tells himself firmly as he slides out of Steve's bed and pads to his own room, heading straight for the bathroom. He's paying you for sex, when it comes down to it. You're lucky some guy just wants to give you expensive shit in exchange for weird, intense sex.

Still. He's a bit subdued as he walks into the bathroom. It's kind of a lot to have one person become his whole world, especially when Steve has an entire life outside of the penthouse.

He puts his pajamas directly into the hamper, then stops and stares at the cuffs on his wrists for a long moment. He wants to take a shower, but he can't do that with these on. They're definitely leather. They're not locked, or anything, he can get them off himself, but...is he allowed? It must be fine to take them off and then put them back on again.

Steve is busy, though, he can't really ask him. He probably just forgot to remove them...

Then again, Steve didn't say to take a shower. Steve said to get changed and eat. Mind made up, Bucky does a cursory wipe clean with a washcloth, puts on fresh clothes, and goes to the kitchen.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"

"Could I get a hamburger and fries, please?"

"Of course, I have put in the order for you. It will be delivered in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," says Bucky, going to the fridge and pulling it open. He finds the soda water and mixes it with some fruit juice, sitting at the kitchen island and sipping it while he waits for his food. Steve rushes out a few minutes later, wearing jeans and a blazer, his hair brushed back, beard trimmed.

"Back later," he says, dropping a kiss on Bucky's head as he passes.

"'Kay," says Bucky, watching him go. "Have fun."

He eats his burger and fries for breakfast, because he can, and then he curls up on the couch to watch TV on the truly mammoth television in the living room. That gets old pretty fast so he gets his laptop out and...decides to do some googling.

His first search is: weird sex.

That gets him...a lot he’s not sure he wanted. He tries again: sex with handcuffs.

Bingo. He gets website after website about BDSM sex. Right. He’s heard of that.

He clicks on the Wikipedia page and from there clicks on one of its sources and then from there...

He actually loses track of time. He’s in the middle of reading about live-in subs and standard contracts (that are nothing like the very legal contract he signed with Steve and seem to include things like safewords and what activities Bucky is or isn’t okay with) when the elevator dings, and Steve gets home.

Bucky snaps the laptop closed so hard he’d be afraid he broke it if JARVIS hadn’t assured him a million times it was basically indestructible.

"Steve! You’re—you’re home!"

Steve stops short, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Yes, it’s...12:15."

"Is it?" blurts Bucky. "I lost track of time. This laptop is...so cool," he finishes lamely.

"Oh yeah?" asks Steve, raising an eyebrow as he removes his coat and hangs it up. "Did you get some games, or something?"

"Yes," says Bucky immediately, because that is so much more reasonable than telling Steve he spent hours reading about sex. He sits up and puts the laptop to the side, going to Steve to greet him. He feels like a lonely dog greeting his master. That image about brings him to his fucking knees. Would Steve put a collar on him? Walk him around on his hands and knees? He needs to do some more research when he has more time.

"Hey," breathes Steve, and he seems to notice for the first time that Bucky is still wearing the cuffs. He puts his hands on Bucky's shoulders, sliding them all the way down to his wrists. "What a good boy," he murmurs. "I forgot to take these off you, but you didn't touch them. You couldn't shower, could you."

Bucky's cheeks go red. "No. I thought about taking them off and putting them back on. I didn't want to."

Steve kisses him, hot and urgent, the force of it actually making Bucky take a step back. Okay, he definitely made the right choice. Then Steve pulls back, says, "Hands behind your back," and when Bucky obeys, he turns him around and clips the cuffs together.

God. It's not even one in the afternoon and Bucky’s standing in the living room, hands bound behind his back. His dick twitches.

"Doesn't matter that you didn't shower," says Steve from behind him, pushing his hands up underneath Bucky's shirt to tweak his nipples. "I'm just going to mess you up again today, anyway."

Bucky feels done for in five seconds flat, his nipples tightening under Steve's attention and his cock plumping up as if by command. Steve's ready to play with him and Bucky is ready to go.

He shivers in Steve's hold, leaning back against his chest. "What—what are you going to do to me?"

"So curious," laughs Steve, kissing the hinge of Bucky's jaw. "But it's a little early to get started with the main event. Think I'd rather relax a little first. Would you like to help me relax, baby?"

Bucky nods mutely, his tongue feeling too big in his mouth and his cock throbbing.

"There's my sweet boy," says Steve. He turns Bucky around, grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt and pulling him along to the den. When they get there, Steve sits on the couch and then directs Bucky down on his knees between Steve's spread legs. "Think I'll let you take the edge off for me while I watch a little TV."

He grabs the remote, turns it on to some 24 hour news network, and then unzips his pants and feeds Bucky his cock.

Bucky's entire brain disconnects from reality. He doesn't need it right now, reduced down to a hot hole.

Steve directs him with a hand in his hair and firm words; he stops and starts Bucky over and over again, in some instances seemingly wanting Bucky to only hold him in his mouth without applying pressure. Bucky glazes over, drool collecting at the corners of his mouth and down his chin, driven forward and back by the hand tight in his hair.

He thinks, distantly, that Steve eventually changes from the news to a movie, not that he can focus enough to understand it, and time stretches and pulls like hot taffy around him. At one point, Steve sits forward, draws Bucky back, and then rolls his hips deep, fucking Bucky's mouth until he spills down his throat. Bucky swallows around him as best he can, but Steve doesn't release him, keeps him there as his cock softens and he finally pulls Bucky off with a satisfied sigh.

Bucky rocks back onto his heels, panting raggedly, his entire chin wet and messy. He blinks slowly at Steve.

"Thank you, baby," says Steve. "I watched a pretty good movie."

God. A whole movie? Holy shit. He's been on Steve's cock for at least two hours.

Steve guides him up onto shaky legs, helping him stay steady as he unhooks his wrists. "Why don't you go ahead and use the restroom. I'll fix you a snack, hmm?"

Bucky nods, smiling. Steve knows just how to take care of him.

When Bucky comes back from the restroom, Steve guides him to his lap in the living room and reattaches his cuffs. Slowly, Steve feeds him, touching and kissing his jaw, fingers brushing over Bucky's lips and chin. He feels warm and happy and relaxed, taken care of in a way he never expected. By the time he eats every piece of food and finishes a whole bottle of water, his eyes are drooping heavily.

Steve grins at him, thumbing a crumb away from his lips. "Sweet thing. Can you crawl over to the cabinet there and get it open? There are a few toys inside I need. And you've been so curious about toys."

"Uh huh," says Bucky, nodding dazedly and licking his lips, which feel tender and puffy still after all the time on Steve's cock. He makes his way over to the cabinet next to the TV, feeling slow and syrupy, not realizing until he gets there that his hands are still tied behind his back and he can't use them to open anything. He whimpers a bit and looks over his shoulder at Steve, who just...looks back, face blank and unreadable.

Steve asked him to do this. He can figure out how.

Lifting up as much as he can on his knees, he takes the handle of the cabinet between his lips and tugs, shuffling backward until he can get it open. He feels like a puppy, using his mouth like this because he can't use his hands. His face burns but he keeps going.

Inside, there are various gaming consoles up top, but on the bottom shelf is a wicker basket.

"Pull the basket out, Buck." Steve is still sitting on the couch, watching him.

Face burning, Bucky leans down and grabs the little handle with his mouth, pulling it free and onto the ground, and after a moment of puzzling it out, he decides to push it the rest of the way toward Steve.

It's not the most graceful he's ever been, but it works, and he pushes the basket all the way towards Steve, leaving it at his feet.

"That's a good boy," murmurs Steve, ruffling his hair like he really is a dog. "Stand up, now."

Bucky leans forward and pushes himself up to his feet, swaying a little, knees aching. Steve turns him around and unbuckles the cuffs. "Get naked," orders Steve. "Then get back on your knees. I'll bind your hands again in a minute."

As Bucky strips his clothes off and folds then on the coffee table, he hears Steve rustling around in the basket. When he turns and sinks back to his knees, his stomach flips a little. Steve has laid out a butt plug, a ball gag, and another pair of cuffs neatly on the cushion beside him. As he extracts a bottle of lube and puts it aside as well, he looks at Bucky and smiles indulgently. "You're going to be so cute all trussed up for me to play with." He selects the ball gag and gestures for Bucky to lean in closer. "Open up."

Heart pounding, Bucky opens his mouth, and Steve uses both hands to pop it between his teeth, adjusting it firmly and buckling it tight. It fills his mouth completely, holding his jaw wide open.

"Cute," murmurs Steve, eyes dark as he cups Bucky's jaw.

Bucky whines and hears how muffled it is when he does. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, his cock hard between his legs, just from having his mouth fucked, crawling on the floor for Steve, being gagged. Steve's yet to touch his cock.

Steve smiles and pushes his hand into Bucky's hair again, tugging lightly. "You really are just so sweet," he says. His hands drop to Bucky's body and he easily moves him around, lowering him to the ground onto his stomach and, god, Bucky thinks he knows what comes next, and he can't help but moan, even if it's useless. He doesn't have to remember not to beg tonight. Steve's taking care of him completely.

When Bucky is on his stomach, Steve takes each of Bucky's wrists and ankles and wraps a cuff around them. He clips his wrists together and his ankles together, then guides Bucky into bending his knees so that he can use a length of rope to attach his ankles to his wrists. It's surprisingly comfortable for something that so effectively incapacitates him.

Bucky's never felt so helpless or so turned on in his entire pathetic life.

No matter what he does, Bucky won't be able to get free from Steve now, not when he's already so much...stronger and bigger than Bucky. Then, to be bound like this...Bucky whimpers. It's not even that he wants to go anywhere, but the thought that he can't is horribly delightful.

"Pretty boy," murmurs Steve, petting his hair again. "Now I'm going to give you something for that greedy hole. You didn't think I forgot about it, did you?"

Bucky makes a small noise. He's not even sure if it's a yes or a no, but it doesn't matter.

"I've got you, baby,” says Steve.

Bucky can't see him, cheek pressed to the carpet, but he hears the snap of a cap, the wet sound of slick fingers, and then Steve settles down on the floor beside him, one hand on Bucky's hip while the other pushes unerringly between his legs.

The thing is, Bucky doesn't need much. Steve fucked him last night, and the day before, and his fingers move inside him, easily stretching his rim.

"Mmgh," mumbles Bucky, because he can't help from making noise, heat collecting between his legs, his hard cock pressed against the rough carpet. "Mmmff..."

"Yeah," says Steve, sounding fond. "I know. I know, just imagine that?"

He removes his fingers, and a moment later, he presses the blunt head of the plug against Bucky's hole, working it in slowly.

Bucky jerks, the buckles of his restraints rattling. He really can't move. His limbs are all held back, lashed to each other, so moving one arm moves the other, too, and tugs his ankles up.

How does he look? How must he look to Steve? Flopped on his belly, wriggling, as Steve pushes a plug into his ass.

Steve must enjoy it, must like seeing Bucky like this, and that thought conjures heat inside him, makes his cock twitch. He whines at the sensation while Steve lets the plug settle deep inside him, his rim closing up over the widest part, the flared base snug between his cheeks. Steve gives the base a hard tap and Bucky squeals, hips jerking and setting off a whole cascade of sensation.

He makes a pleading sound. Maybe Steve can tell it's too close to begging, because he gives Bucky a light swat. "You are so much fun."

Bucky huffs, trying to look over his shoulder at Steve, trying to pout at him, but it's useless. Bucky's sure he just looks ridiculous. Which is proven by Steve chuckling and reaching down to give Bucky's side a little pinch. "Behave yourself, Buck."

Bucky makes another sad noise, and Steve sighs. "You know, you're right. I am a little hungry. Didn't eat anything while I took care of you. I better get a snack so I have enough energy to keep up with you tonight. You'll help, won't you?"

Bucky frowns at him. Help! Help when he's like this?!

"Well, I certainly can't leave you here unsupervised, now, can I?"

Bucky makes as much of a sound of agreement as he can manage, because he instantly hates the idea of being left alone like this, without Steve.

"Good boy," says Steve, patting him firmly on the ass. Bucky grunts. "Oh, I almost forgot," he continues. There's a long moment where Bucky has no idea what Steve could have possibly forgotten and then the plug comes to life inside him, vibrating against his prostate, insistent pressure, and Bucky arches his back and squeals.

"Now I'm ready for a snack," says Steve smugly, as Bucky sobs.

Steve rolls Bucky onto his side, getting down on one knee beside him, before he wraps his arms around Bucky's waist and lifts him right off the floor. It's like Bucky weighs nothing.

"Mmph!" cries Bucky, as Steve heaves him easily over his shoulder like Bucky is a sack of grain. The restraints don't really let him bend fully over Steve's shoulder, so Steve perches him there with a firm hand over his ass, pushing the vibrator in tight. "Unngh!"

Bucky held firm, Steve leaves the den, heading for the kitchen.

The thing is, Bucky expects Steve to put him down again when they get there.

He doesn't. Whistling, Steve goes to the fridge, opening it with his free hand. Staring helplessly out behind Steve, Bucky squirms, whimpering.

"Yeah, you're right. We do need more butter. JARVIS, put that on the list," says Steve, pushing the fridge closed with his hip.

"Of course, Captain Rogers. Will there be anything else?"

"What do you think, Buck? Anything we're forgetting?"

Oh god. He knows that JARVIS is just a program, a highly intelligent program, but it still feels like Steve is carrying on a conversation with someone else as if Bucky's nudity, being tied up, having a plug in his ass, is nothing important at all. It hits every button Bucky didn't know he had, as Steve's games so often do. Bucky makes another noise, grunting at Steve, who just pinches his ass with the hand that's holding him steady.

"No need to be rude. JARVIS is being helpful. JARVIS, no thank you. I think we've got it handled for now."

"Very good, sir."

Steve turns and grabs a plate out of the cabinet and sets it down next to the supplies he gathered. He doesn't make anything complicated. He just slaps some bread, meat, and cheese onto the plate, then puts the container away and grabs a carton of strawberries, setting those on the plate as well. "Perfect."

He picks up the dish and heads down the hall to his bedroom, setting the plate on the bedside table before he carefully plops Bucky down on the bed.

He rolls him into his belly again, reaching casually between his legs to twist the base of the plug, and then he climbs up onto the bed beside him and grabs his plate.

"JARVIS, put that documentary on that I didn't finish watching the other night."

"Of course, sir."

The TV. Steve just turned the television on. He crosses his legs at the ankles, leans back against the headboard, and balances his plate on his lap, eating his snack as he fixes his gaze on the screen.

"Mmph!" wails Bucky, rocking desperately into the mattress, his cock throbbing as the vibrator works away inside him.

"I don't know," says Steve, through a full mouth, pointing at the screen. "This guy, he's swimming with whales in the Arctic!"

Bucky is going to die. He doesn't know what's worse: if Steve was going to ignore him completely, or this pretend conversation, where Bucky makes muffled noises and Steve makes up what they're talking about.

Steve occasionally reaches over to ruffle Bucky's hair or wipe away some drool or just to rest his hand on the back of Bucky's neck, munching away on his charcuterie while watching some documentary about whales. Bucky is miserable...and also in heaven? Miserable heaven? He's not sure if that's a thing but if it is, Steve invented it.

His cock is a heavy weight and his ass clenches without his permission on the buzzing plug; he can't move or speak and...and he's just Steve's. That's the only meaning he has in this moment: who he is in relation to Steve.

He's not really aware of the moment he drifts, but he is aware of the sharp tug on his hair and the way the plug in his ass starts buzzing harder, more insistently; Steve's fingers, roaming between his legs, tugging on his balls, pressing just behind him to elicit a squeal and wriggle, tracing his rim where it's wrapped tight around the plug.

It's the most exquisite torture Bucky has ever experienced. He has no idea what time it is, how long he's been like this, how long Steve plans to keep him bound up tight, plugged and gagged and quivering.

It doesn't matter, though, because that's up to Steve. He might fuck him, he might not. He might just poke and prod and torment him all night while he watches weird documentaries. This...is his life, now. He's a toy.

"Unnh," he murmurs softly, rubbing his cheek against the mattress, near tears despite (because of) his relentless arousal.

Steve chuckles. "You're doing so well, not coming yet. Leaking and leaking all over the sheets, but still such a good boy. I could hang you up like this in the dining room, over the table, like a chandelier."

Bucky chokes on a moan, shuddering weakly. How does Steve tap into this shit? How does he know?

"Do you want to come, baby?"

"Mmhmm!"

"You've got hips. Get yourself off, then. Rut into the bed like the puppy you are."

Bucky's brain kind of...stops working. His mind flashes through scene after scene of Steve leading him around on a leash, Steve forcing him to eat from the floor, Steve giving him a bath like he's a naughty puppy who got too dirty. He's humping against the sheets before he can even think that he shouldn't, whining with how good it feels, clenching down on the plug.

It's so hard to get the right leverage, his whole body rocks and wriggles, tears finally spilling over as he rubs his cock against the soft, expensive sheets, desperate to come.

"There you go, that's my silly pup, don't know any better, do you? You just like feeling good. Show me. Come for me, puppy," says Steve, hand petting through Bucky's hair.

With a gut-wrenching shudder, he comes, spurting wetly into the bed, making a mess of himself and the sheets.

Bucky's head is spinning like a top, stunned stupid by what just happened. He sucks in a shuddering breath through his nose, aftershocks rippling through him as his sensitive cock softens, dragging through the damp sheets under him. Steve hasn't done anything to move or rearrange him, just petting Bucky's hair and praising him.

He also hasn't stopped the vibrator.

"Good puppy. What a good boy! You did just what you were told. I'm so proud of you," croons Steve, in very much the kind of voice you speak to a dog with.

Bucky whines softly, trying to push his head more firmly into Steve's hand. "Yeah, I know, you're so needy. Just can't do a thing for yourself without help! That's why I have to keep you muzzled and leashed like this. For your own good."

Bucky blinks heavily at Steve, nodding his head in agreement. From where Steve is sitting, legs crossed next to him, Bucky can see the bulge of his cock in his pants. He moans eagerly, trying to squirm closer.

"Ah, ah," cautions Steve firmly, stopping him. "Easy. You don't get my cock in your mouth. You're gagged all night, babe. When I want to come, I'll either use your hole if you're good, or I'll jerk myself off all over your dumb face."

To be honest, Bucky couldn't say for sure which option turns him on more. He knows he wants to be fucked, but also the idea of Bucky not even being good enough to earn Steve using his hole… It's awful but it also makes his cock twitch weakly.

He makes a soft noise for Steve, who just sighs and continues to pet him. "You are trying so hard to be a good boy for me, aren't you?"

Yes, Bucky wants to say. So hard!

"You really are a good puppy, huh? Soft and sweet and dumb, helpless without someone to look after you," says Steve, stroking down over his back, tracing patterns that make Bucky shiver.

His breath hitches a little and Steve sighs, reaching down between Bucky's legs to find the base of his plug. Bucky can feel every twitch, every press as he pushes and pulls, twists and rocks it back and forth. Bucky groans, hips jerking...only to drag his cock through the damp fabric that pulls and tugs against his skin.

"Don't make a fuss, pup, you're mine, aren't you? And that means you're mine to play with, even this sweet little hole," says Steve, tugging lightly on the plug, pulling and pulling until it pops free, Bucky's ass going wide around the thickest part, stretching around the most intense vibrations.

Bucky sobs...and then Steve pushes it back in.

"Nnghhph!" cries Bucky, sobbing and squirming, not able to get anywhere at all, stuffed full of the maddening toy.

Steve, however, goes still. "Was that begging, Buck?" he asks dangerously.

God. How did he know? Even behind the gag, how did he know Bucky tried to say 'please' despite himself? He makes a mournful sound, trembling.

Steve sighs in disappointment and Bucky wants to cry. It's not fair!

"Guess you need a time out," says Steve. "Before we can keep going. That's okay, I have a lot of things on my 'to watch' list."

Steve unhooks him and directs him to use the restroom, and then he gives him a glass of water and watches Bucky finish it before he's bound tight again. Bucky can't help but make one more soft, pleading sound, and Steve gives him a disdainful look. "I suppose your timeout will need to be longer than I thought." Bucky sobs and Steve pats his cheek roughly. "Such a silly pup," he says and then he hefts Bucky back up onto his shoulder for another trip to the kitchen, humming cheerfully as he retrieves a bag from the pantry and sticks it in the microwave. Bucky hangs limp over his shoulder, tears leaking down his cheeks until Steve grabs a clean dish towel and wipes his eyes with a soft chuckle. When they get back to the bedroom, Steve puts the bowl down on the bedside table and him at the end of the bed, touching Bucky with cool efficiency. Quickly, Bucky's cock and balls are all tied up with weird silicone loops and the vibrator cranked to the next setting. Steve delivers one swift swat to his bottom before he climbs back into bed. He leans against the headboard and eats his popcorn noisily, watching sitcoms and cackling.

Subsequently, Bucky is hard again, swelling eagerly against the confines of the cock ring.

Steve seems unconcerned by any of those details. He's not even carrying on a fake conversation with Bucky anymore. He's just watching his show and munching on his popcorn, happy as a clam. Meanwhile, Bucky is humiliated and turned on and stuck here just like this. If he begs, if he carries on and squirms and pleads and fights it, it'll only earn him more punishments. And Bucky wants to be good, he wants to make Steve feel good.

He wants to earn Steve's cock in his hole.

So he tries to breathe and keep himself from squirming or whimpering, tries to concentrate on being Steve's obedient puppy, Steve's good boy. He wants it so much. He sniffles back more tears and wills himself still with steady in and out breaths.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Time slips past again, narrowing to just him, laying still for Steve to use, being good.

When Steve shifts again, Bucky shivers. "That's so sweet, trying so hard to do whatever I say, aren't you? To make up for being bad. You're doing good so far, hmm?" asks Steve, a hand on Bucky's ankle.

It's so tempting to beg again, to push his ankle into Steve's touch, to plead for Steve to take the cuffs off, tug the plug away and fuck him, but he can't. He has to be a good boy, it's all he has, the only thing he can do for Steve: be a good boy, be his perfect, sweet little toy.

His perseverance pays off.

Steve says, "That was almost an hour. I know you're trying hard. It's still new, isn't it?"

"Mmm," agrees Bucky, nodding, because Steve asked him a question.

"Okay, baby. It's time for a treat, then." Steve detaches the restraints from each other, letting his limbs fall limp and heavy to the bed. Bucky groans involuntarily, with intense relief, and sags into Steve's hands as he drags him up and onto his knees. He trembles a little, unused to holding himself up, and Steve takes his hands, clipping the wrist cuffs back together behind his head, so he's clasping his hands together around the back of his neck.

Then Steve scoots himself across the bed until he's propped up against the pillows, his back flat on the mattress, and gestures for Bucky to come to him. Bucky grunts and obeys, knee-walking gingerly, until Steve's hands come down to rest on his hips and Bucky is straddling Steve's thighs.

"Want to ride me, doll?" asks Steve, one hand reaching down to grip the plug. "Do you want to sit on my cock?"

Bucky nods his head eagerly. He does. He wants that so bad.

"That's my good boy," praises Steve, warm and affectionate. Bucky watches as he quickly pushes his boxers down and rolls a condom on, slicking his fist over it.

Bucky can feel himself start to drool, his chin and lips wet with want. Finally, one of Steve's hands goes to Bucky's hip to balance him, help him, while the other tugs, slow and sure on the plug, stretching Bucky's rim wide again before finally, finally pulling it free. Bucky's thighs quiver, just from that, and he whimpers.

He's never going to survive this.

Still, he widens his knees a little more, tipping his hips as Steve guides his cock into place, and with a thick, satisfied groan, Bucky lets himself sink down onto it. He's filled entirely, completely, wonderfully, Steve thick and hard inside of him. Bucky's only had this a handful of times now, but every time he can't imagine it being better, more satisfying. One of these times, it even has to be true, right? It can't keep getting better.

Steve gives his hip a squeeze. "Come on, no slacking. Let me know you're grateful for your treat."

Right. He's not just sitting here. He has to move, he has to fuck himself on Steve's cock. He has to make him come, he has to.

The only thing is, Steve deliberately bound his hands up to deny him any leverage, which means he can only use his legs.

With a grunt, he rises up, thighs quaking, and rocks back down, rolling his hips and grinding onto the thick press of Steve inside him. He repeats it, entire body shaking after a couple of minutes, sweat prickling his skin.

"Wish you could see yourself, honey," sighs Steve, his thumb rubbing soft into Bucky's hip. "You look like such a desperate little slut, working so hard. Such a mess."

Bucky moans deeply, redoubling his efforts, his muscles burning already. Under him, Steve starts to squirm a little, colour rising to his cheeks. He's doing it, he's slowly getting Steve off.

"That's it," praises Steve. "Good boy, good puppy, mounted right here on my dick."

Oh, god. Steve's gonna kill him. Bucky whines, hips working furiously. It hurts, he's sore, but he's got the rhythm down, now, bouncing up and down on Steve's cock so fast his balls slap Steve's abdomen.

"So good, that's right, you're— fuck," breaks off Steve, hand squeezing hard on Bucky's hip. "Such a sweet little puppy, that's good, that's good."

Bucky nods mindlessly, making meaningless noises of agreement, squeezing as tight as he can around Steve's cock with every downward press of his body, reveling in the ache of Steve's grip. He's doing that, he's bringing that out in Steve. Until finally, with a rough moan, both of Steve's hands clamp down on him, holding him still for several short thrusts. Steve's mouth falls open, his throat glistening with sweat, his dark lashes dusting against his cheek.

He's the most beautiful Bucky's ever seen him, but when he's done, when he blinks his bright blue eyes open, everything filters back in for Bucky at once. His thighs ache, his hole is sore and full, his cock and balls are tight and desperate, his shoulders hurt, and he cries at the sudden onslaught of sensory input.

"Shhh," hushes Steve, recovering quickly. He sits up, wrapping his arms around Bucky so he can swiftly and easily flip them, lay Bucky out on his back, his head cradled by his own hands. "There you go, I've got you. You did so good, Bucky. So proud of you."

Bucky sniffles and whimpers pitifully, all mixed up about how good this feels and how much of him also hurts. It's overwhelming, but he did it, and now he's done, and Steve is kissing his forehead and cheek and then the bright red rubber of the ball gag.

"Easy," he croons, his hands rubbing all over Bucky's tight muscles. "You're fine, I've got you. Yeah, good, there you go. Don't cry, puppy. Shhh."

"Mmm," sighs Bucky, his eyelashes fluttering.

"Yeah," agrees Steve, back to one-sided conversations again, apparently. "I know. You did great."

He does become aware again of how hard his cock is, though all tied up like this, he can't come. Steve also doesn't touch him there, his wandering hands finding every inch of Bucky except his erection.

"I'm going to get a cloth, won't be long," says Steve. "Then I'll get you ready for bed. You'll need my help, because I'm keeping you in some of this." He taps the gag meaningfully. "You responded so well to a lot of pressure. I'm so lucky I found you."

Found you! Like he really was a lost puppy or a stray he adopted, and not an employee he fired!

Fuck. Bucky doesn't care. He'll be anything for Steve. He thinks most often, he'll want a toy, but if he wants furniture or an inanimate object or an animal, he can be that with bells on.

The next image that floods his mind is Bucky wearing a belled collar, on his hands and knees for Steve, muzzled and harnessed.

Fuck his overactive imagination. He exhales shakily.

Steve returns with a damp washcloth, which he rubs all over Bucky to clean him off.

Every. Single. Inch.

He takes his time, cool swipes against his skin, cleaning off sweat and come. Between his legs, he's even more gentle, swiping over Bucky's hole to clean the lube. Then, gently, he starts to ease off the rubber looped around his cock and balls. "Can't sleep with that on, can you?" he sighs, sounding disappointed. He cleans Bucky's cock and Bucky squirms helplessly. No matter how soft and plush the washcloth, it feels like sandpaper on his oversensitive cock.

"Shh, have to get my dirty puppy all clean, don't I? Don't be like that. It's your own fault your little dick is filthy," scolds Steve. Bucky feels such a deep sweep of lust and shame he can only cry in response.

"Come on, pup, you need to get up and go to the bathroom before it's bedtime. Can't have you wetting the bed," says Steve, matter of fact like it's obvious a silly thing like Bucky couldn't figure out something so simple like going to the bathroom when he needs to.

Steve pulls him up and onto his own two legs, which are admittedly weak right now, his knees threatening to buckle. But Steve's grip is firm and controlling, one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his neck.

He doesn't stay in the bathroom for the actual activity, thank god, just makes sure Bucky can stand, unbuckling his wrists and then easing the gag out to give Bucky's aching jaw a rest. "I'm going to go finish cleaning up your mess. Don't make another I have to worry about in here."

Bucky's cheeks burn as he nods and Steve steps away while Bucky does his business. His cock is hot and hard in his hands, and he barely stifles a moan at his own touch. He wants more so badly, but he's been good for Steve for so long. He can't mess it up with that. Steve will take care of him. He always does.

Instead, he washes his hands and avoids his own reflection in the mirror, returning to see that Steve has changed the sheets. He pulls Bucky into the bed when he sees him, kissing his cheek. "Now it's time for silly puppies to sleep. You've had such a big day, I don't want to overwhelm you anymore."

Steve starts arranging him on the bed, confident hands moving over Bucky until Bucky finds his wrists bound together in front of him, with the back of his left wrist against the front of his right. The cuffs hook together on each side, his palms up, so that even if he were to straighten his arms, try to play with himself in the night, he wouldn't be able to do much of anything but there’s enough range of motion that he won't lose feeling as he sleeps.

"There," says Steve. "Now my puppy won't get in trouble when he should be resting."

Bucky is going to drown in Steve's blue eyes, in his firm tone, in the casually demeaning words that spill out of him so easily.

"These will do for now, but I'll have to get you some nice soft puppy mittens for next time," comments Steve, checking the cuffs one last time before he brings a new, softer looking bit gag up to Bucky's lips. "This will be easier to sleep in."

Bucky groans, nodding. Yeah. Yeah, that's good. Steve thinks of everything. He needs so much help!

Right now, Steve is his whole world, even more so than usual, with complete control over Bucky's speech and mobility. As Steve scoots in behind him and pulls the covers over them both, Bucky lets the last coherent thought drain out of his head.

He doesn't need words right now, he doesn't need his hands, he doesn't need to worry about his throbbing cock. Steve's wrapping him up in his embrace, big strong arms snug around his waist, and Bucky was good for him, he made Steve come, he had his cock inside him. He made Steve happy!

His eyelids drag closed, Steve's lips brushing the back of his neck as Bucky sinks like a stone into deep sleep.

When he dreams, it's of Steve pressed up hot and solid behind him, hugging him tightly as he fills Bucky with his cock, rocking into him like a lullaby. His hand is tight around the base of Bucky's cock, keeping him from coming, and Bucky can't understand anything he's saying as he whimpers softly and lies patient and still. His limbs are like weights, he can't move at all, but Steve is using him, and that's good. It makes him feel good.

Then the dream shifts, and Bucky loses track of it, mind spinning off.

He wakes to sunlight streaming in, warming him in bed.

When he shifts, stretching bodily, he realizes two things: 1) he's alone. Steve's not in bed with him, the sheets cold around him. 2) He's no longer bound and the gag has been removed.

Bucky lies still for a bit, listening. The apartment is silent. The bathroom door is open, and the light is off, so no Steve. Blinking in confusion, he touches his jaw. It's sore. That's not surprising. He's fully naked, and there's a sore stickiness to his hole when he reaches between his own legs, wincing a little.

"Steve?" Bucky's voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, and he winces to hear it, shutting his eyes tightly.

Maybe he went out? He just...has to wait here for him. To come back. Because he has to come back, right?

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

Steve feels better than he has in months. Bucky is... a revelation. Sweet and responsive and good. The bratty little twink in the club has melted away to reveal a young man eager for direction and affection, both of which Steve is more than happy to provide.

His good mood is even obvious to others, Natasha lifting an eyebrow at him as he saunters into Stark Industries. "Well, someone finally woke up on the right side of the bed. Look at you."

He grins, walking across the executive lounge to pour himself a cup of coffee. "I slept well."

"Uh huh," she says. "What's their name?"

Steve huffs. "None of your business. Don't dig, Nat."

"It'll show up in the society pages sooner or later," she says with a shrug. "Either way... I'm happy for you, Steve. You deserve something nice."

"Thanks," he says, sipping at his coffee.

The rest of the day is pleasant, if uneventful. He thinks about texting Bucky a few times but he likes the idea of Bucky waiting for him, not knowing when he'll be back, playing on his computer or watching TV... Yeah, better to let him have a nice day doing whatever he likes for once.

He has meetings all through the day, project updates and release planning. Around three he walks into his office after his last meeting, ready to wrap things up and answer a few emails, when JARVIS interrupts.

"Pardon the intrusion, Captain Rogers. Do you have a moment?"

Steve leans back in his chair, stretching a bit. "Sure, what's up?"

"Though you didn't give me any specific instructions per your new guest, I took it upon myself to follow basic parameters of safety and wellbeing," says JARVIS.

Steve sits up. Oh. Right. Maybe he should have said something to JARVIS about Bucky.

He clears his throat, pushing away the vague discomfort. "Right, that was thoughtful, JARVIS. Is something wrong?"

"Possibly, sir. Mr. Barnes has not risen from your bed all day. His vital signs are stable, with the occasional uptick in heart rate and breathing when he's crying. However, he hasn't eaten or said a word aside from calling for you when he first woke up."

Steve's entire stomach drops out, good mood dipping immediately into low-grade panic. He stands up from his desk abruptly, with the intention of rushing home, but he's instantly frozen by the sheer number of things wrong with what JARVIS just told him.

Bucky woke up, called for Steve, didn't find him, and was so overwhelmed by it that he didn't get out of bed for what must be going on eight hours now. In all that time, he didn't go to the bathroom, drink anything, eat anything...

Fuck. Fuck. Steve is such an idiot! An out of practice idiot. And the worst sort of asshole. He didn't leave Bucky a note or message with JARVIS; he didn't give him permission to get up, which Bucky was probably expecting after such rigorous handling since he arrived; he didn't make sure Bucky would be given time to recover and now he's dropped, and he's dropped hard.

"All day?" he asks weakly. "When did he wake up?"

"7:43 AM, sir."

"Shit," says Steve, finally jumping into motion, shutting his laptop and grabbing his phone, briefcase, and coat as he leaves. "Shit!" He should have left instructions for JARVIS, to act in lieu of Steve's presence. There are so many things he should have done, but he'd been in such a good mood, and Bucky hadn't stirred at all when he'd untied him...

Excuses.

Steve gets into the car and jiggles his leg anxiously the whole way home, almost breaking into a dead run to reach the elevator when he gets there. The penthouse is quiet when he arrives, and he beelines for his bedroom, seeing exactly what he expected to see: a miserable lump under the blankets.

"Bucky," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. The lump stirs, Bucky's tear-stained face emerging from the blankets, his eyes wide and red as he blinks and focuses on Steve. "Hey, Buck, hey... Aw, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Steve!" he wails, choking on a sob, and Steve crawls right under the sheets, dragging Bucky bodily into his arms as Bucky dissolves into hiccuping tears.

Steve holds him tight, petting his hair, down his neck and back, rubbing circles and murmuring softly. It's all variations on a theme: you're so good, such a good boy, I'm sorry, it's okay, you're okay.

He holds Bucky for what must be at least twenty minutes while he cries himself out, until he goes quiet and his breathing normalizes. His hands are curled into Steve's shirt, under his suit jacket, his face tucked against Steve's chest, under his chin.

He seems both unwilling to let Steve go, but also unwilling to look at him. "Bucky?" tries Steve, keeping his voice soft and neutral.

"M'sorry," mumbles Bucky immediately. "I'm sorry, please don't be mad."

"Bucky, I'm not mad at you,” Steve says firmly. “You didn't do anything wrong. You are such a good boy for me, always. This is my fault. I shouldn't have left without waking you up, without making sure you knew it was okay, you were okay."

Bucky's breath hitches. "I thought you would be back, I thought I needed to wait for you," he whispers.

"I know, baby.” Steve sighs. “I never told you what to do on days without me. That's my fault, not yours. I messed up, okay? I...I haven't had someone like you in a long, long time. I've never had anyone just like you, really. Someone that was mine to take care of all the time. I won't let this happen again, okay? I promise."

Bucky sniffles noisily and nods, and Steve lets out a deep breath, running his fingers through Bucky's soft hair. "You did everything right," repeats Steve. "I would never get you in trouble for something like this."

Bucky doesn't say anything, just clings to him, and Steve thinks he knows what to do. "You needed care and I wasn't there to do it, and so you dropped. If it's okay with you, I'm going to take care of you now. Can I do that?" Bucky nods again. "We're going to go into the bathroom, and you're going to use the toilet, and wash your hands and your face, and then I'm going to give you a bath. That sound good?"

"Yeah," sighs Bucky.

"JARVIS, order some dinner for us. Anything that's been ordered more than five times will be fine."

"Yes, sir."

Steve scoops Bucky up into his arms and carries him into the bathroom, where he sets him down carefully, making sure to keep touching him affectionately.

Bucky ducks his head as he moves toward the toilet, following Steve's instructions. Steve looks away to fiddle with the tub, getting the water warm enough, putting the stopper in, adding bath oil, something light and fragrant as it starts to fill, nothing too overpowering. And then he turns back to Bucky and starts stripping from his own clothes, watching as Bucky washes his hands and face.

When they're both done, Steve simply scoops Bucky into his arms, kissing his cheek when he makes a little startled noise. "This is only about making you feel good, taking care of you, okay? That's what I want right now, to take care of you. Is that okay?"

Bucky bites his lip, head resting on Steve's shoulder. His cheeks are pink and he looks very young like this, vulnerable and uncertain. Steve's heart aches.

"Okay," whispers Bucky finally. "I just...want to be good for you."

"You are, Buck. You are such a good boy for me," says Steve, stepping into the water and lowering them both down. He was hesitant to actually join Bucky in the bath for this, not wanting Bucky to think this was something sexual for Steve. But the way Bucky continues to cling to him, he knows he made the right choice, keeping the maximum amount of physical contact. "I just want you to know how proud I am to have you, that you let me take care of you, that you trust me to decide things for you. That's so special and you do so good."

Until Bucky surfaces from this, Steve is going to keep reinforcing the message that he didn't do anything wrong. He really didn't anticipate how hard it would hit Bucky, but how could he have expected Bucky to just...get up and go back to normal without a comedown period?

Steve can't have it both ways. If he's going to be this domineering with him, then he needs to be prepared to spend a long time on aftercare, make sure Bucky recovers fully before leaving him to his own devices.

He'll need to establish a routine.

For now, though, he soaps Bucky up, rinses him off, cleans his body with decidedly nonsexual touches. Moving on to Bucky's hair, he lathers up the shampoo, rinses it out, conditions it, and then rinses it all carefully out, Bucky pliant in his arms, finally a bit steadier and no longer weeping.

By the time Steve has finished cleaning him up and rinsing away all the suds, Bucky seems more relaxed, but also more alert. His eyes have focused, that glassy sheen gone, and he doesn't seem lost.

"Feeling better?" Steve asks, helping him out of the tub and then rubbing him down thoroughly with a big, fluffy towel.

Bucky nods. "Yeah. Thank you. I feel, um..."

"What?" asks Steve, holding out a robe to help Bucky into. "Tell me."

"Stupid," admits Bucky, casting his gaze sidelong. "I'm... I'm a grown man. I don't know why I got so... Why I couldn't even think to get up on my own. I just lost it."

"I do," says Steve, bundling Bucky up and then drying himself off quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist. "It wasn't your fault. It's called subdrop."

"Uh," says Bucky. "What?"

"JARVIS," says Steve.

JARVIS pipes up immediately: "Subdrop is defined as the temporary depression and/or chemical imbalance experienced by submissive partners after intense BDSM play. It can be short lived or can be a delayed reaction, and can last as long as a week. The dominant partner is responsible for seeing their partner through this period and making sure they are safe, sane and healthy."

"Oh," says Bucky dumbly. "That's a real thing?"

"You tell me," teases Steve.

Bucky huffs a bit. "So that just happens, to other people too? When...they have sex like that?"

"Yup," says Steve, relaxing into this topic now that Bucky seems to be understanding. "Especially if their dominant partner doesn't take care of them after the way they should. So what happened today... That was entirely my fault. It was careless of me, to not make sure you were okay after everything we did over the weekend, everything you let me do."

Bucky takes a deep breath, nodding to himself. He looks lost in thought for a moment and then hesitantly he asks, "Is this...something I'm supposed to use a, um, safeword for?"

Steve pauses a moment, a little surprised to hear Bucky use that term, but he supposes Bucky could have heard it anywhere. It's not as if BDSM sex isn't common enough that Bucky wouldn't have overheard people talk about it, even if he'd never done it before.

"Not exactly," says Steve, running a towel over his own hair before he guides Bucky out of the bathroom. Steve grabs a pair of sweats and a hoodie, pulling them on. "Safewords...are more something that partners usually use during play, if someone goes too far, does something they don't like. Have I gone too far when you wanted me to stop?"

Before Steve can start to second guess himself, Bucky shakes his head immediately. "No, part of what I like is that you decide everything. Even when you don't let me have what I want. I don't want to think about making those kinds of decisions."

Steve hums a bit. It's one of the things he also likes so much about being with Bucky, the feeling of absolute control over him. Still, Steve screwed up royally. Boundaries are important.

But Steve’s got this, now. He'll be more careful moving forward, establish a routine of aftercare. And he's tuned in to Bucky during play. Bucky likes Steve making the decisions. Making rules and lists and safewords would ruin that.

He knows it’s not the safest way to play, but Steve can handle it. He wants to handle it.

"Okay, then we won't change that part of what we do," says Steve. "But we are going to add some routine, to help avoid something like today happening again. I don't ever want you to feel like that, Buck."

"Okay," says Bucky. He's standing where Steve guided him, waiting patiently for whatever Steve wants next, and that simple submission floods Steve's belly with heat.

Steve regards him for a moment, and then steps into his space, slipping the robe off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Then he takes a big soft hoodie he only wears when he's feeling really miserable and tugs it on over Bucky's shaggy head, helping him into it. He does the same with a pair of worn-soft flannel pajama pants, though he lets Bucky put those on himself. Everything is oversized, hanging off him a little, and he looks soft and cozy in Steve's clothes.

"Today we're just going to be comfortable," says Steve. "The food should be ready. Come into the living room, I'm going to feed you."

Bucky's cheeks flush a little pink and he nods, trailing after Steve. They end up on the couch wrapped in a big blanket, watching Netflix while Steve feeds Bucky his dinner by hand, Bucky melted against his side happily. When they're finished eating, they talk about the new routine Steve is going to follow; Sundays are strictly for aftercare.

When Steve is at work during the week, Bucky is allowed to shower and eat and spend the day how he wishes, but he needs to text Steve and ask if he's allowed to go out. Steve will lay his clothes out for him if he leaves before Bucky wakes up. As always, if Bucky has questions, he can ask JARVIS, or text Steve.

That finalized, Steve ruffles Bucky's soft hair and gives him a much more sly smirk. "Should I be buying some new toys for you?"

"Hmm?" Bucky slides his gaze from the TV to Steve; they've been half-watching documentaries the whole time.

"I was thinking if you're going to be my puppy sometimes, you should have the appropriate items."

Bucky's entire face turns a bright, tomato red.

"Is that a yes? Did you like being my sweet puppy?" murmurs Steve, brushing a kiss to Bucky's cheek.

"It was embarrassing," admits Bucky, voice soft as if he's not sure he should.

"Yeah? Was it humiliating? To just be a pet, a dumb, cute animal," asks Steve, no judgement in his tone. He wants to give Bucky the words to talk about this, to understand how it makes him feel and why he likes it.

"Yeah," breathes Bucky, shifting his gaze down to stare at Steve's shoulder. "It felt...filthy and shameful. Worse because I liked it so much."

"That's part of the game for lots of people, from what I've heard. I've never had a puppy before, and I won't do it for all of our games," he says, reaching to tip Bucky's chin up so their eyes meet. "But I enjoyed how it affected you, and I know I'll want to see it again. I'm glad you liked it too."

Bucky nods, soft blue eyes meeting Steve's, and Steve can feel his pulse against his fingertips, racing away. "I like everything you do to me."

"That's good, Buck, because I'm a man with many desires, and you're here to fulfill them, aren't you?" says Steve, thumb brushing over Bucky's lips. "Sometimes, I'll just want to make you feel good, to watch you come like a pretty slut on my cock. And sometimes I'll want to play with you, my responsive little toy, watching you squirm and come and cry. Or maybe I'll just want to use you, make you a hot hole for me to fuck, a thing for me to look at and touch as I please."

Bucky's lips part now, panting slightly, his pupil wide and dark as he stares at Steve, listening to all the ways Steve will continue to own him over the next year.

"Maybe I'll use you as my foot rest or my table, huh? Or I'll tie you up and play with your greedy little hole until you cry. Or you'll be my dumb puppy, unable to do anything on your own, in need of my care and attention and discipline. Whatever I want, that's what you'll be, huh, Buck?"

Bucky nods eagerly, that glassy sheen to his eyes having returned just hearing Steve catalog all the things he wants to do to him. "Yeah," he says hoarsely, licking his plush lips. "Yeah, I want to be anything you want." He pauses for a second, clearly trying to get himself under control, and then says, "I don't know why, but I do. I've never met someone like you."

"Mm, how lucky for me, to be your first everything," murmurs Steve hotly, wrapping his hand loosely around Bucky's throat.

"Does that make it better for you? Get you off? Knowing you're...the only one that's ever done this stuff with me?" asks Bucky, his throat bobbing against Steve's hand.

"It might dig into a kink I have," admits Steve, chuckling. "But I have a lot of kinks."

"Yeah," murmurs Bucky. "Guess I do, too."

"Have you thought of anything on your own?" Steve's curious, now. Bucky's experience is limited, but everyone has fantasies. "Anything I haven't done to you, or showed or mentioned?"

Bucky's eyes go wide. "Um. Uh... Y-yeah, I have."

"Tell me," Steve commands, his hand tightening a little around Bucky's throat.

"It's weird," whispers Bucky. He can't seem to look at Steve. "Thought of you, um.... stripping me naked, making me do chores like that, just... around the house. And then last night, when you were talking to me... I did picture how you'd make me your puppy, wearing a..." He swallows hard. "A collar, and a muzzle, a harness on while you walk me..." He squeezes his eyes shut, helplessly embarrassed.

Steve kisses him soothingly and hums. "Sweet thing. The floodgates opened, hmm? Well, maybe you can look forward to some of that in the future."

Bucky nods, relaxing. "I'd, um. Like that."

Steve eases up a little, though, over the next couple of days. Their routine and schedule works well, Bucky entertaining himself happily enough during the day, but always waiting for Steve when he gets home, usually eager to have Steve use his mouth or bend him over and fuck him. Bucky hasn't actually slept in his own room in days.

On Wednesday, though, Steve gets up early, and wakes Bucky up too, and as he rolls him onto his back, he says, "Your time doesn't belong to you today."

Bucky is half-asleep, still, stifling a yawn. "Mm?"

"We're going to play a game while I'm at work."

Bucky's eyes brighten. "Okay."

"You're going to clean the house."

The way Bucky's face falls is absolutely hilarious. "Oh. Okay?"

"You won't be comfortable while you do it," says Steve. He gets up and goes into his closet, and when he comes back to Bucky sprawled out naked in bed, he lays out a fat plug and ball gag, already familiar to Bucky, the leather cuffs, a shiny set of nipple clamps, and a mean-looking chastity belt.

Bucky's eyes have widened and he licks his lips. "Oh."

Steve laughs softly, endlessly entertained by Bucky's honest reaction to everything Steve does. "Uh huh. And if you're a very good boy, when I get home I'll give you a special reward, something I know you'll enjoy, baby."

Bucky's interest is definitely there now, mouth parted as he nods eagerly. "I'll be good, I promise."

"Mmm, you'd better, because I'll be watching. You won't know when, but whenever I want, I'll be able to peek in on you, all day long. See what you're up to," says Steve.

He starts with the cock cage first, because Bucky is already starting to plump up, and that won't do. He applies just enough lube to make it easy, sliding the cold metal right over Bucky's cute little cock. He's been dying to use this on him, and he's so excited to see how he responds. Which is apparently to gasp, whimpering, as Steve tucks his balls through the metal hoop.

"Shhh, you know you need as much help as possible to be a good boy. Don't you?" asks Steve, as he methodically starts to buckle leather cuffs onto Bucky’s wrists and ankles.

Bucky's face falls, cheeks warming with color. "Yes."

"Mmhm, open up," commands Steve.

Bucky's mouth parts easily and Steve places the gag between his lips, familiar enough to Bucky by now. Then he carefully works Bucky's nipples up into tight little peaks while he moans and squirms, before he applies the clamps—not too tight, since he won't be able to take them off all day, just enough to tug when he moves—heavy and chained together.

Next is the plug, and Bucky is already loose from a nice long fuck the previous night, so it doesn't take much to work the tip in and then slowly slide it home until it's snug inside Bucky's ass.

All the while, every action that turns Bucky on makes his cock strain against the unyielding metal of the cage, drawing out whimpers and squeaks.

Steve is elated. "What a good idea you had, to clean for me," says Steve, grinning down at him. Bucky pouts, scowling up, and Steve gives his balls a nice mean tug that draws another squeal from Bucky.

"Now, I need to make sure you can't take any of this off, hmm?" he says, and starts applying the rest of the chastity belt, tugging the leather around Bucky’s slim waist, tightening the buckles and then applying the locks.

Next, Steve connects two lengths of chain between the cuffs on Bucky’s ankles and then his wrists, just enough to make his life a little difficult today. He dangles the keys above Bucky's face. "There, that's better isn't it?"

"Unnmph," mumbles Bucky, red-faced, his tone a little sullen.

He looks very, very good like this, restrained and helpless, but still able to get up when Steve pulls him to his feet and makes him stand up straight, examining him from head to toe. He touches him everywhere, cups the cock cage, checks the straps, tugs the locks, until Bucky is squirming, patches of red flushing his cheeks and chest, his nipples swollen as Steve bats at the thin chain dangling between the clamps.

"Come on," says Steve, grabbing the chain between his wrist cuffs and leading him into the kitchen, Bucky jingling gently as he shuffles behind him. "You're going to make us breakfast, babe."

"Mm!" protests Bucky.

"What?" asks Steve, arching a brow. "You've got two hands. Toast and eggs, I think. And coffee."

Bucky's eyes are very wide, but he only hesitates momentarily before he turns toward the pantry with a huff and starts to take out bread as Steve sits at the kitchen island, cupping his chin in his hands as he watches. Steve's dick is hard, just from this, Bucky hobbled and denied, toasting bread and cracking eggs, putting on coffee. He leaves briefly to get dressed, returning as Bucky is plating up their food, turning to look questioningly at Steve.

"Come," says Steve, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor next to him as he sits back down. "Kneel. I'll feed you. Your gag will come off for food, only. No speaking. I'll know, got it? At noon exactly, you can have twenty minutes to eat and drink. I'll feed you again when I come home for dinner."

Bucky nods, sinking down to his knees, and Steve loosens the strap that holds the ball in place, feeding Bucky his breakfast in between eating his own. When he's finished, he makes Bucky drink a glass of water and then go brush his teeth before he buckles the gag back in snugly. Then he watches as Bucky washes their dishes, that cute little cock all red and uncomfortable in the tight metal confines of the cage, the leather of the chastity belt pressed tight between his cheeks, holding the plug inside him.

"Okay," says Steve, when he's ready to go. "The whole apartment, top to bottom. I'll be back at five. Use the bathroom whenever you need it, and if there’s any kind of emergency, you have permission to take out the gag and ask for help." He kisses Bucky's forehead, does one last check that he's appropriately bound, and leaves, whistling cheerfully.

When he's in the car, he pulls the remote for the vibrator out of his pocket, considering it. Maybe not quite yet. Let Bucky get comfortable, first. He'd like to see his reaction, too, so he needs to get to his office, where he can pull up the security feed.

"JARVIS? How's he doing?"

"Mr. Barnes is dusting the living room, sir."

The house isn't particularly dirty to start with. His housekeeper comes twice a week as it is, on Tuesdays and Fridays, but today is a Thursday and therefore there should be just enough to keep Bucky occupied.

Steve has to answer a few emails before he allows himself the indulgence of having JARVIS pull up footage, but when he does, he sees Bucky holding an honest-to-god feather duster (he doesn't even know where Bucky FOUND that).

He's carefully going over every ledge and shelf, his cute little ass on display in the leather thong as he reaches above his head with both hands since he can't keep them that far apart.

Steve turns on the vibrator and watches a moment later as Bucky squeals in surprise, stumbling a little and catching himself against the wall, shivering. He's panting, catching his breath from the unexpected stimulation. After a few seconds, he glances up and around. He clearly has no idea where the security cameras are (they're so small, Steve's not even sure he could spot them, even knowing their placement), but Bucky is definitely glaring.

Steve laughs and then presses a button, leaning close to his computer's mic. "Be good, baby."

Bucky huffs and then slowly turns back to his work. He is very meticulous, Steve will give him that.

He ends up keeping the feeds up most of the day, taking up a whole half of his second monitor that he continually glances at, during conference calls and all through emails and tasks. At 11:30, Bucky starts making himself lunch, a simple grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup that he devours in fifteen short minutes right at noon, with just enough time left to drink a whole bottle of water and then brush his teeth before he places the gag back in place at 12:20.

Steve's feel hot all over seeing it, knowing how desperate Bucky is to be good for him, to obey him and earn his special treat. Steve's determined to give him something he'll never forget. Steve is definitely not as productive as he usually is, with Bucky TV acting as deeply compelling footage even when Bucky is just doing mundane tasks.

There's something very satisfying about his boy padding through the apartment naked, chained and stimulated and silenced, something that sinks right into Steve's lizard brain and has him leaning back in his office chair and idly palming his dick through his pants. Bucky is locked in. Can't free himself from any of his torment, whether it's by actual locks or just Steve's words defining the rules.

The keys rest against Steve's chest, on a chain under his shirt, and Bucky knows it.

At 2:00 PM, Bucky finally makes his way into the master bathroom, digging around under the sink for cleaning supplies before getting down on his knees on the bathmat.

Smirking, Steve flicks the switch on the vibrator, turning it up, and Bucky's muffled squeal is truly music to Steve's ears, watching raptly as the muscles in Bucky's back and ass tighten, clenched around the offending plug, spine arching. He catches himself on the rim of the tub, turning his head quickly, looking up accusingly, mumbling nonsense protests behind the gag, his face red and his chest heaving.

Steve doesn't speak to him this time, though, and soon enough, still panting, Bucky turns back to his work, albeit shaking more than before. He finishes the bathroom, stumbling out half an hour later, and Steve bites his lower lip. He doesn't feel an ounce of shame as he murmurs, "JARVIS, zoom in on Bucky's genitals."

The camera adjusts, and Steve sighs happily. Bucky's cock has plumped up as much as is possible in the cage, bulging a bit between the metal slats, and it looks incredibly uncomfortable. Precious. Fucking precious. The best boy.

Bucky moves slowly into his own room, tidying clothes and putting laundry in the washing machine. Every time he bends over, Steve flicks the vibration up one speed, then back down as he straightens, letting out strangled moans and shivering in the middle of his bedroom.

Steve is so damn lucky. Bucky makes him feel...needed, special. Bucky makes him feel focused in a way he thought maybe he'd lost, even before the divorce.

He loves Peggy Carter, god help him, but they should never have married. At their wedding, Sam made a toast about an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Steve's not sure which of them was supposed to be which, but it hadn't been the unlikely fairytale ending everyone thought it would be. Instead, it was compromise after compromise until neither of them were even close to happily ever after.

One day, maybe they'll even forgive each other.

Around 4:00, he sends one last message to Bucky. "Get dinner started, I'll be home in an hour. Meat and potatoes sound good, don't they?"

When he walks into the apartment at 5:00 on the dot, Bucky is in the kitchen, just pulling little roasted potatoes and carrots from the oven along with a small meatloaf, and there's gravy bubbling on the stove. He's got an apron on over his front, which is fair enough, considering the grease. It actually makes Steve feel very happy, that Bucky would put the apron on without asking, knowing Steve would rather him be safe.

"Mmm, looks delicious," says Steve as he sets his briefcase down and hangs his coat in the closet by the elevator. He comes into the open concept kitchen, walking up just behind Bucky, hands going to his hips as he leans close to his ear. "You look pretty good, too."

Bucky makes a little muffled noise that might be thanks or might just be a huff. Steve grins and kisses his cheek. "Did you have a good day?"

Bucky nods eagerly, his cheeks flushing. Steve pushes his hands under the apron and finds Bucky's caged cock, teasing between the metal bars. Bucky whimpers.

"I watched you all day. You were so good for me. Can't wait to give you your treat after dinner."

Bucky trembles in his hold as Steve plants kisses across his shoulder and up his neck. "Go kneel for me in the living room. I'll plate up dinner."

Hobbling his way into the living room, Bucky does as he's told. Steve turns his attention to cutting up two servings of the meatloaf into bite-size pieces, adding the gravy and potatoes and carrots. And then he grabs a couple of bottles of water and brings it in, setting it all down on the coffee table. Bucky is kneeling for him, hands on his thighs, and very obviously trying not to tremble and squirm.

The vibrator's been going in and out at varying speeds for a while, keeping him from going numb to it, and Bucky's arousal is clear; he's flushed all over, skin gleaming with sweat, and his eyes are glassy and wide, pupils blown. His caged cock, resting fat and swollen but soft between his legs, is the real treat for Steve, and he's very happy with the outcome of this particular toy experiment.

"You've been such a good boy all day for me, Buck," says Steve, settling down on the couch with the food. "I'm so proud of you. You really earned your treat."

Bucky heaves a relieved sigh, nodding weakly. Steve reaches out to undo the gag, massaging gently at Bucky's jaw as he lets it hang loose around Bucky's neck. "And now dinner, which you've outdone yourself on. I think we should do this once or twice a month. What do you think?"

Bucky's eyes go impossibly wide, his lips parting on a moan. He's stupid with arousal, but he manages to nod, desperate to please.

"I'll try and think of ways to keep it interesting," teases Steve, spooning up a bite and feeding it to Bucky. He alternates feeding himself and feeding Bucky, who opens his mouth for Steve obediently, well and truly under. Since Steve hasn't told him he can talk, Steve carries on the conversation for them both.

"You could do it all blindfolded," he suggests, popping a potato into Bucky's mouth. "Or on your hands and knees. I don't know where you got that feather duster, but I can't help thinking it would be cute if I put it on one of the gags I have... Make you clean with your mouth. I wonder what size maid costume would fit you..."

By the time they've both finished eating, Bucky's sagged into Steve's hip, head pillowed on his thigh as he breathes raggedly, dazed and groaning.

"Don't get too comfortable," Steve cautions him, feeding him the bottle of water and then putting the gag back in. "You have dishes to do. Once you're done, and the kitchen is clean, come to the bedroom. Use the bathroom first, if you need to. I'm going to shower while you're finishing up."

Bucky makes a soft little sound of protest that is absolutely adorable, but Steve just pats his cheek and sends him on his way. His shower is quick and refreshing, and when he's done toweling off, he pulls on a clean pair of boxers and then ducks over to the playroom to get the supplies he wants.

He knows exactly what he's giving Bucky for his special treat, something he's only done a few times. He took a class once, a few years ago at a nice little BDSM club, all about proper technique, how to do this without doing damage. He's even practiced on himself, although it's not a sensation he particularly craves.

He thinks Bucky, with his sweet little masochist and hedonist tendencies, will get a nice thrill from it.

He picks up the package of black latex gloves, the sterile lubricant, and a sterile package of sounds, wrapping all the supplies up in a fresh towel, and brings them out to the bedroom. Bucky has come in too, standing anxiously, squirming on his plug. "Lay on the bed, Bucky, on your back, head on the pillows."

Bucky crawls up into the bed, pulling the comforter down to reveal fresh clean sheets that he no doubt changed earlier in the day himself. Steve comes over, laying the towel on the bed next to Bucky's hip, hiding his surprise inside. He considers Bucky a moment, and then replies to him as if he spoke, "You're right. I think we should take care of this chastity belt first."

Bucky grunts a bit in agreement and Steve grins, climbing up onto the bed and taking the keys from around his neck. He makes quick work of it, undoing each lock and removing it, easing Bucky out of the leather before slowly pulling the cage free. Bucky groans at the sensation, panting as he watches. Steve pats his hip and laughs. "So sensitive for what a little stimulation slut you are," teases Steve.

Bucky's eyes are very glassy and he blinks up at Steve, whining a bit.

"None of that," scolds Steve, giving his free cock a rough slap that makes tears well up in Bucky's pretty eyes as he squeals. "Yeah, that's a good point. I should make sure you're more firmly tied down for your present, so you can enjoy it properly."

With that, Steve unlocks the chains from his cuffs and ankles and instead gets up to find the nice black rope he hasn't gotten to use yet.

Bucky watches him curiously as he moves over Bucky to kneel over his chest, rope in hand.

Steve wraps each wrist in a knot, then binds them securely to the post at each corner of the bed, Bucky's arms spread up above him like a starfish, pulled taut. Steve scoots down to his legs, next, grabbing Bucky by the ankles and pulling him down until he meets resistance from the above restraints. Then he repeats the process with each ankle, leaving Bucky bound spread-eagle, open and helpless, on the bed.

Standing back at the end of the bed, Steve puts his hands on his hips and examines his handiwork.

Bucky makes an involuntary noise at the scrutiny, his cock having finally perked up again, hard and red and wet against his belly, now that he's free of the cock cage.

"Hmm," says Steve, raising an eyebrow. "Try to close your legs."

Bucky does, and he doesn't get far, but Steve has never been one to go easy on a sub, when given the chance to go hard. He leaves the bedroom, grabs an adjustable spreader bar, and returns to Bucky, wrapping the cuffs around his knees and buckling it on. He widens the bar a little, making sure Bucky's thighs are spread wide.

"There," he says happily. "Perfectly exposed. Look at you. All ready for me to play with your eager little dick. Still frustrated by that plug, too?"

Bucky makes a mournful noise, nodding.

"Good," says Steve. Crawling back onto the bed, he sits down cross-legged next to Bucky's hip and grabs the latex gloves from under the towel, making a show of snapping them as he puts them on, in full view of Bucky's wide, confused eyes.

Steve smirks, bringing out the little package of cleansing swabs that come with the sterile sound set. Bucky stares, obviously confused as Steve opens them up. "Have to make sure my dirty boy is nice and clean so he can enjoy his present, don't I?"

Bucky flushes and squirms as Steve takes the fat, oversized swabs soaked with disinfectant and carefully starts to clean the head of Bucky's cock. It's cold and will sting just a little, Steve's felt it himself, but Steve loves the way Bucky's erection doesn't flag for a moment, he just wriggles and makes little noises, blushing brightly.

"Such a good boy," praises Steve as he sets aside the disinfectant and then picks up the lube. He squirts a healthy amount into his palm and, wrapping his hand around Bucky's cock, he works it in tight, slow strokes. Bucky lets out a long moan, head falling back against the pillow. Steve squeezes a big dollop of lube just over the tip of Bucky's cock and then rubes it firmly into his slit, Bucky letting out a surprised squeak.

Steve does this for a long time, stroking and rubbing, until he can see Bucky start getting close, can see how his breath quickens and his noises get more desperate, and then— he stops. Bucky lets out a woeful little sob, and Steve hushes him. "You don't want to ruin your surprise, do you?"

Bucky sniffles but shakes his head, going still for Steve again.

"Good, that's so good, Buck," praises Steve. Finally, he opens the towel completely, reaching for the package of sounds. He opens them carefully, and Bucky frowns, clearly confused. Good, he has no idea what's coming.

"I'm going to do something called sounding. Have you ever heard of it?" he asks, just to be sure.

No flicker of recognition passes over Bucky's eyes, and he shakes his head, making a curious sound.

"It's intense, a very...unique sensation, but I think you'll like it. It's sort of like when I milked your prostate, how that felt different and intense and I said not everyone could enjoy that the way you did? This is similar in that way. Not everyone likes it, but you're just the sort of sweet boy who would."

Bucky nods mindlessly, eager to agree, to be good. Cute.

Steve lays the opened package of sounds down on the towel and carefully squeezes lube over them, and then another little bit on the tip of Bucky's cock. Bucky remains relatively calm and curious, watching as Steve reaches down for one of the steel rods, but his eyes widen and he sucks in a startled breath when Steve brings the slightly curved end to the tip of his cock, sliding it over the slit.

"I tied you down to keep you still," Steve says warningly, not yet pushing the sound inside, his gaze fixed firmly on Bucky. "To help you be good and not hurt yourself."

Trembling, Bucky nods. Steve can see how the muscles in his thighs are tensed, how he'd be closing his legs involuntarily if Steve hadn't tied him so securely. He doesn't blame him. It's instinctive when someone holds a metal rod close to your dick. He's being so good, though, watching closely and waiting patiently.

"I'm going to go slowly," Steve says, wrapping his hand around the base of Bucky's stiff cock. "And it's going to feel—strange. This is the smallest size. I thought we could see if we can work our way through two or three gauges."

With that said, Steve starts to slip the sound into Bucky's cock. Bucky inhales sharply as the cold steel sinks in, but Steve holds him tightly and keeps feeding the sound inside him.

Bucky makes a garbled sound, tossing his head back, a sob caught in his throat. He trembles, his cock hot and hard in Steve's hand.

"Look at that," whispers Steve. "Be a good boy and watch, baby. Look at your hungry little cock swallow it right up."

Bucky makes a wounded noise, eyes blinking open again, lifting his head like it's attached to a string that Steve only has to pull. He groans as he watches, Steve releasing the end of the sound so that it sinks the rest of the way, dragged down by gravity, the ball at the end resting snuggly against the tip of Bucky's cock, keeping it from going too far.

Slowly, Steve takes the ball between his fingertips again and starts to draw the sound back out. Bucky lets out a shocked sound, high and needy. Steve keeps going, until he has it almost all the way out again... and drops it right back in. His other hand squeezes around Bucky's cock when the sound is fully seated again, giving him slow, rhythmic strokes. Every breath Bucky takes, quick and ragged, ends in a shallow whine, a muffled, nonsense sound, "Unh! Unh! Unh!"

"I know, you're right. It's not quite enough, is it? We should switch to the next size up," replies Steve, carefully pulling this sound out and setting it aside. Bucky moans, shivering.

Steve methodically goes through the steps again of getting the next size, squeezing more lube, and then gently easing it inside of Bucky's pretty cock. It's red and hard and the small reprieve of switching sounds has allowed a little drool of precome to dribble from the tip. Steve grins. "I knew you'd like this," he says, as he stretches his cock around the next sound.

"Unnnh! Mmmgh!" cries Bucky, choked and desperate. Tears are welling in his eyes, spilling over his cheeks and trickling down into the mess of hair at his temples. The tip of his cute nose is red, too, drool collecting on his chin as he gasps, chest heaving. He's the very picture of debauched arousal, an utter mess, the most perfect thing Steve has ever seen.

"You're doing so well," praises Steve, easing the thicker sound in patiently, precome beading up around the smooth head as it sinks deep and settles in place. This time, Steve spends more time playing with his cock, stroking gently, slowly, never enough to bring Bucky to orgasm but keeping him stimulated and on edge with a careful grip.

Steve has gotten used to Bucky being vocal, he makes a lot of noise no matter what's being done to him, but he's especially loud now, wailing as Steve lazily jerks his stuffed cock with a slick, gloved hand. Steve doesn't think it's words, necessarily, he's not trying to say anything, but the mewls and shouts ripping out of him show how little restraint he has in the face of something so weirdly intimate and unfamiliar.

"Good, what a good boy," rumbles Steve, rubbing up under the swollen head of Bucky's cock. "Are you enjoying your treat, Buck?"

"Mmm!" howls Bucky, nodding jerkily, body tense and rigid. "Mmhm!"

"I'm so glad," murmurs Steve, sliding the sound up and then letting it sink down by itself, again and again as he squeezes and strokes Bucky's cock. "Think we'll stop at this size for today, though. Want to save something new for next time, don't we? And we don't want to stretch you out too much. Just give you a nice little tease."

Bucky grunts, maybe at the idea that this is a "little tease," but either way, it's quickly forgotten as Steve starts to stroke his cock in earnest, letting the sound settle deep while his other hand finally reaches down and presses hard against the plug, kicking it up to its highest setting and angling it up toward his prostate.

The sound moves naturally with every stroke, rising up a little just to sink back down, fucking Bucky's cock in short little motions while Steve makes sure he's stimulated in every other way possible, more and more until Bucky screams. His hips jerk, his body goes taut, and he comes, pushing the sound up, come dribbling up around it. With a quick, careful motion, Steve pulls it the rest of the way free and with another strangled moan from Bucky, his whole body jerking as if he's coming a second time.

Steve continues to stroke him through it, fucking him on the plug, until Bucky is a sobbing, quivering mess, making helpless sounds.

The only problem with this setup is that Steve can't fuck him like this, he's bound too firmly to the bed. Still. Bucky's been enduring this for the whole day. He can fuck him later, if he feels like it.

"Easy, easy baby," croons Steve, finally turning the vibrator off. Bucky's body goes limp, chest heaving as he pants raggedly through his nose. "That's it. You did it. We're done."

He removes the plug carefully, setting it aside and ignoring Bucky's mournful moan. He takes his time untying Bucky, starting with his ankles, then removing the spreader bar, before finally releasing his wrists. Rubbing gently at the inflamed red skin, Steve murmurs softly, helping Bucky work his sore, stiff limbs.

As he gathers Bucky up into his lap, he finally unbuckles the gag, gently tugging it out of Bucky's mouth and cupping his jaw with his hands to work the stiffness out.

"Baby," murmurs Steve, holding Bucky close and kissing his slack mouth. "You okay there, Buck?"

"Mm," mumbles Bucky, nodding. His throat bobs as he swallows and he blinks owlishly. He gathers himself for a long moment, then croaks, "You fucked my dick inside out."

Steve laughs, kissing Bucky's cheek and his sweaty temple and then his mouth. "I sure did, huh? And you liked it."

Bucky hmphs lightly. "Told you, I like everything you do to me."

Grinning, Steve kisses him again, this time teasing his tongue into Bucky's mouth, his hand petting through Bucky's hair. When he pulls back, he says, "Do you want a shower, baby? I know you haven't had one all day."

"Are you saying I stink?" mutters Bucky, but he doesn't seem offended, more amused.

"I'm being nice, you little brat," says Steve. He reaches up with one quick tug to release the nipple clamps. They weren't overly tight, but they still make Bucky howl a little. "Mind your manners after I gave you such a nice treat."

"Sorry!" squeaks Bucky. "Yes, I would love to take a shower. Can I?"

"Mmhmm, and I'll clean up out here. And then I think...maybe I'll let you warm my cock while I eat some dessert."

Bucky's face turns predictably red and he nods hurriedly, rising shakily from the bed and making his way to the bathroom.

While he's in there, Steve meticulously cleans all the toys they used, putting everything away in its proper place. He gets a pair of sweats and a hoodie out for Bucky, laying it on the dresser by the door to the bathroom, where he still hears the shower running. He changes his own clothes, and then goes to the kitchen to look around for something that will satisfy his sweet tooth. He finds ice cream, which will do in a pinch, and is spooning out a bowl when Bucky finally emerges, damp and clean and wearing the clothes Steve selected for him.

"Just in time," says Steve, picking up his bowl. "You feel better?"

"I feel clean," says Bucky. "I felt good before."

Steve smiles indulgently at him. "Good answer. Come on. Living room. There's a new thing on Netflix I want to watch."

Steve sits on the couch, knees spread, and he doesn't even need to say anything to Bucky before he's kneeling down between them, looking up at Steve.

"You're so good today," sighs Steve. "Scoot in." Setting the bowl down, Steve pushes his waistband down just enough to free his cock, before he uses Bucky's thick hair to guide him onto it.

"Ah," sighs Steve, as Bucky's warm mouth closes around him. "Just what I needed."

Bucky moans, always so pleased to be pleasing Steve, and Steve ruffles his hair affectionately, smiling. "No sucking, okay? All I need you to do is be a nice snug hole for my cock to rest, baby."

Eyes fluttering, Bucky makes a little affirmative sound and Steve picks up his bowl of ice cream and settles in to watch a new comedy special while he enjoys his dessert. It's short, only an hour long, and his ice cream is long gone by the time it finishes. Then again, so is Bucky, drooling messily around Steve's cock, eyes heavy and drooping, so obviously checked out.

Steve reaches down and combs his hand through Bucky's hair, who stirs a little, making a curious sound. "Yeah, baby, you did such a good job. Just so proud of you," he murmurs softly, tugging on his hair and pulling Bucky off his cock and up into his lap. "C'mere, wanna kiss you."

Bucky hums happily, eagerly homing in on Steve's mouth, and they spend long minutes kissing leisurely.

It's been a very, very long since Steve actually made out with someone. It's...nice, to just enjoy it without thinking about it leading to something else.

He's pretty much done with anything strenuous tonight, anyway. He just wants to hold Bucky when he's warm and groggy and pliant in his arms.

Eventually, Steve scoops Bucky up and carries him to bed, tucking him in and sliding in alongside him, immediately rolling over on top of Bucky and getting right back into kissing him again. Long, sweet, lingering kisses, until Bucky is clutching at his hips and panting hard, flushed and wide-eyed against Steve's clean white sheets.

"Really proud of you," murmurs Steve. "You were so good today."

"I wanted to make you happy," mumbles Bucky, dazed. "Made me feel good, too."

That makes Steve's heart give an unexpected squeeze, a rush of fondness for Bucky that leaves him feeling...warm.

"You made me very happy," he sighs, leaning in to leave kisses along his jaw, his neck and against his ear, making Bucky squirm and laugh, apparently ticklish. Steve grins too, catching his mouth in another slow kiss, hand warm against Bucky's skin, pressed under the hoodie he has on.

Bucky curls one leg around Steve's hip, an arm loops around his neck, keeping him close. "I want to keep making you happy," he whispers, soft like a confession, a secret he's scared to share.

"You will," says Steve, cupping the side of Bucky's face, thumb tracing his cheekbone. "You're a natural at it."

A pleased warmth blooms across Bucky's face and he smiles shyly. "I...want you to come tonight, too. Can I help?"

If Steve wasn't feeling so warm and soft and indulgent, he might not have been so inclined to let Bucky get away with that request. He's not begging, though, and he clearly wants Steve, so there's no way Steve could ever find it in himself to punish Bucky for wanting to make him happy.

So he nods, shifts them around so that he can kneel over Bucky's face, and then he feeds him his cock. Bucky takes the angle and weight and pressure of this position in stride, taking Steve deep and clutching his hips as Steve leisurely fucks his face.

When Steve comes, he pulls out, leans back and lets Bucky watch dazedly as he finishes himself off, spilling over onto Bucky's face.

It feels like a good end to a very long day.

Steve gets a face wipe and cleans Bucky off, and then they turn down the bed and Steve pulls Bucky close, unsurprised when he drifts off pretty much immediately.

The first month with Bucky honestly feels like an extended honeymoon.

Having someone waiting for him when he comes home that relies on him for everything stokes the possessive fire that burns constantly at the back of Steve's mind, making him happy and calm and settled when he's at work.

He knows that Natasha, Sam, and Tony want desperately to find out what's going on, but he hasn't taken Bucky out anywhere yet, and their shopping excursions don't really count.

Inevitably, though, Steve has a fundraiser he can't beg off attending (what with how he's the one who planned it), and he realises that Bucky's attendance could make the whole evening much easier to bear.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

"You need a tuxedo," Steve says to Bucky, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I do?" says Bucky, blinking. They're sitting on the couch together and Bucky looks over at him. "Where am I going?"

"I have an event I need to be seen at," he says simply. "And I want to look my best. There will be Stark Industries competitors and clients there."

Translation: I need all my accessories, including my beautiful piece of arm candy.

Bucky shivers, leaning into Steve. "I want you to look your best, too."

Steve smiles at him approvingly and Bucky feels heat in his stomach. "You’ll go see Selene and the other girls tomorrow, make sure you’re good enough. And then I’ll pick you up, we’ll go see my tailor and...another special shop."

"Okay," agrees Bucky. He's been a second time already, but it's been a couple of weeks. Bucky is shivery with anticipation. He's grown to really enjoy the whole process—both while he's at the salon and Steve's enthusiasm afterward.

That night, Steve spends some time working Bucky over, edging him for hours until he finally lets him come on Steve’s cock so that he's mellow and relaxed in the morning. Then Steve gets him up and takes them both to the spa, Steve going in for his own services as well, a massage and facial and mani-pedi.

Bucky gets the full treatment. It’s just as intimate and overwhelming as his previous two visits and by the time he gets his massage he’s floating. Steve is there this time to help him get dressed.

The masseuse steps out of the room and Steve kisses him, tipping his head up. "There’s my sweet boy."

Bucky hums against Steve's lips, clutching at his waist and leaning heavily into him. He's warm and his entire body feels loose and relaxed; almost all his words are gone, so he doesn't say anything, just smiles at Steve.

Steve looks amused, ruffling his hair. "Aren't you cute like this. Come on, we have another appointment."

He guides Bucky out to the lobby with an arm around his waist, Bucky not listening to a word exchanged between Steve and the receptionist, just listing gently into Steve's side.

They go to get Bucky fitted for a tux, next, which he drifts through without really noticing any of what's happening, lifting his arms when instructed and letting Steve mostly deal with dressing and undressing him. Bucky gets Steve's hands on him a lot, which is nice, and Steve praises him under his breath and compliments him, and Bucky sinks even further.

And then they go to a different kind of store.

As they step inside, Bucky gets the impression of velvet, all around, deep and red, and a perfumed woman in a rigid dress and a lace up corset greets them at the door. "Ah, Captain Rogers! Always so precisely on time. How lovely to see you again. Please, this way. The room is ready for you."

They pass racks of lingerie, corsets, mannequins wrapped in delicate fabrics—Bucky's eyes going wide as he looks around.

Steve squeezes his hand, leaning in to whisper, "There are a lot of things you can wear under a tux," in Bucky's ear.

Bucky shivers, blinking dreamily at Steve. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh, and you'll be extra pretty under that tux, just for me," says Steve. "You want that, don't you?"

"Yes," breathes Bucky immediately. God, it's pathetic, but when he gets like this, all he wants to do is be good for Steve, be good enough for Steve, make Steve happy and proud of him.

Steve smiles at him and leads him into the back room. The woman turns and eyes him up and down. "You should take off your clothes."

"Uh," says Bucky.

"Do as she says," says Steve.

Bucky's whole body wakes up at those words, prickling with heat. He's been naked, obviously, a lot today. Or half clothed, between massages and waxing and fittings, but in this room, covered in silk and velvet, being directed up onto a little pedestal in front of this very beautiful, very severe woman, Bucky feels a new sort of exposed.

But he dutifully strips down again to just his plain black boxer briefs.

"Up on the platform. Don't be shy," she says, "You didn't bring me a shy one, did you, Captain?"

Steve grins, leaning into Bucky's space to press a kiss to his cheek. "Bucky just gets shy around strangers, I think. Go on, you're going to get pretty for me."

Bucky goes up on the platform as directed and the woman comes over, pulling a measuring tape out. "I'm just going to get your measurements so we can fit you properly, Bucky. My name is Ms. Lillian."

"Uh, okay, nice to meet you."

She nods and then goes to work, wrapping his waist and then his hips and the circumference of each of his thighs and the length of his legs. It's remarkably like the tailor's, except then she steps away and opens up a bunch of drawers...and pulls out several styles of lingerie. "We'll of course make a custom piece for your event, but we can start by trying these on, just to get a feel for what Captain Rogers will like."

She very clearly doesn't even suggest that it's dependent on what Bucky will like. She knows exactly what's happening here, even more explicitly than the spa or the tailor or any other store Steve has taken him into.

The fact of it settles into the back of his brain and tugs him deeper into comfortable obedience.

He's a doll, and they're going to dress him.

The moment he figures that out, the last of his shyness melts away. Ms. Lillian is like Steve. She knows what she's doing and she's seen it all.

"See?" murmurs Steve, as Ms. Lillian selects a pair of stockings.

"He's very well behaved," she agrees. "So pretty, too."

"Thank you," says Steve. "Bucky, sit in that chair, put your right leg up on that table."

Bucky turns his head to Steve, dazed, and nods. Sitting is a relief. He draws one leg up, and Ms. Lillian deftly begins to roll thin, clingy fabric up this calf and thigh.

Against his freshly-waxed skin, it feels so sensitive and intimate he has to swallow a groan, his cheeks flushing with heat.

"It's okay," says Ms. Lillian briskly, using both hands to smooth the tops right up to his inner thigh. "I know it feels good against silky skin like this."

Bucky just nods helplessly as she repeats the process on his other leg. Then she has him stand again, helps him into a garter belt that is adjusted to fit snugly and attached to the stockings.

"Bucky," says Steve, startling him out of his thoughts. "Those underpants won't do. Take them off, Ms. Lillian has a few pairs for you to try on."

"O-okay," says Bucky. "Um."

"Garter first," says Ms. Lillian, and suddenly she's stripping Bucky totally naked and having him step into something far more...silk and lace.

This time, her hands get right in there, cupping his cock and showing him how to tuck himself in properly.

A moan escapes his throat before he even fully processed it, cock heavy against her palm as she smooths the silk in place. His face fills with heat and his eyes prickle unexpectedly, his gaze snapping to Steve. He doesn’t know why, his lungs just feel tight all of a sudden and he—

He needs Steve to tell him it’s okay. He realizes it as soon as their eyes meet.

Steve nods, subtle permission, but when he speaks it’s to Ms. Lillian. "You’ll have to excuse Bucky’s reaction. For being such an pretty, sweet girl, she has such an eager little cock."

Bucky's whole brain seizes for a moment, utterly thrown by Steve's words. They don't make sense, he's not a girl. Steve's never wanted him to be a girl, always talked about what a good boy he is, always enjoyed touching and playing with Bucky's cock.

This must be a game, like when he's Steve's puppy, or Steve's toy. Right now, he's...he's wearing panties and trying on lingerie and he's Steve's girl. His eyes flutter and he sways a little.

Ms. Lillian steadies him, a firm hand on his hip. Her expression is unreadable as she looks right at him but speaks to Steve instead. "A very responsive little thing, isn't she?"

"Yes, always has been. You'll have to forgive her for her reaction. Aside from our esthetician, I'm the only other person that's ever touched Bucky's cock before."

Bucky makes an involuntary sound, entire face flooding with heat as Ms. Lillian's mouth curves into a smirk. "Really? What a novelty. How on earth did you find such a precious little virgin? Though I'm sure she's not one any longer, with you, captain."

Steve's chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound. "You're right. She just...fell into my lap."

Bucky is going to die. He's going to die here, today, wearing lingerie, his cock held firm in a stranger's hand, while two very attractive people talk about him like he's not even here. He is suddenly gripped with terror. What if he stains the panties? That would be fucking humiliating—he's not here to get off, he's here to look pretty for Steve.

Sucking in a deep, trembling breath, he forces himself to calm down. He's not getting hard. He's not. She's just doing a fitting. He's not some horny slut rutting into the nearest warm body! He just had a reaction to the contact, like with Selene.

"Oh, how sweet," says Ms. Lillian, letting go of him as she finishes adjusting the silk. "So well-behaved! Not that I'd doubt your skill in training up a fresh sub, Steve."

Oh. She's dropped the ‘captain’. They must know each other better than Bucky thought. He swallows hard, glancing briefly at Steve and then dropping his eyes.

"Thanks, Lil," says Steve. "I like this cut, here. Can we try these?"

"Of course. That's a good girl, lean on me and step out of them," says Ms. Lillian, as Bucky slides the panties down his hips.

Bucky swallows thickly, concentrating on breathing, on doing only what’s asked of him. He leans into her solid frame and she drags the silk down and then accepts the ones Steve hands over.

As they’re pulled up his legs and into place, he realizes they have higher cuts in the back, letting the bottoms of each cheek peek out.

Steve walks behind him and Bucky can practically feel the weight of his gaze. "Yes, these will do. Such a cute little ass," he mutters, his fingers sliding up the back of his leg and then pinching the exposed swell of his ass lightly.

Bucky makes a soft sound, breath catching as he fights to be good, to be a pretty girl for Steve to look at.

Ms. Lillian tucks his cock again just so, and stands to observe too, walking around next to Steve. "You know, with that form, she would look amazing in a pair of heels. Can you just picture it? Wobbling around with her ass taut and perky, desperate for your...guidance?" She laughs delightedly. "Let’s add the stockings first, though."

By the time Bucky is dressed in Steve's panties, garter, and stockings of choice, he's long vacated his head. Everything feels thick and slow and he knows that he's hard, tucked snugly into the silk and lace, his ass hanging out, but neither of them are reprimanding him, so he stops worrying about it. He's just doing what he's told.

"Okay, sugar," says Ms. Lillian. "Hold my hand and step into these."

Fuck. Fuck. The lingerie is one thing, it's a lot like toys and accessories Steve's always put on him, but high heels? That's. A lot. That's a lot to deal with. But he nods, and grips her hand, sliding his feet into the shiny red pumps, trying to keep as still as possible to not overbalance.

"Ah, she has lovely legs for this," praises Ms. Lillian. "Long and lean. And I was right. Look at that ass, captain."

Steve doesn't just look, he reaches out and takes a handful, making Bucky squeak and sway. Abruptly, Ms. Lillian steps back, leaving him without support.

"Steve," croaks Bucky helplessly. He gives him the wettest, most desperate puppy dog eyes he can, short of begging. He's not allowed to beg.

Steve smiles indulgently, stepping around to hitch Bucky even closer, a nice firm handful of Bucky's ass, Bucky's barely clothed body pressed to Steve's suit clad, firm chest. Steve's other hand comes up, combing through Bucky's hair. In the heels, Bucky is eye to eye with him, but his knees feel weak and his ankles and calves burn. It's entirely Steve's strength keeping him upright now.

"You look very cute like this, Buck," murmurs Steve, tugging his hair the way he does that always goes straight to Bucky's cock. "I'm so pleased to show you off in front of Lil, my pretty girl."

Bucky makes an involuntary noise, high and needy.

"I know," sighs Steve. "I know. We'll go home soon. Lil, I'd like something special for two nights from now, she'll have to wear a tux, but I'd like to know my pretty girl is waiting for me under it. But we'll also take what she has on now. And a few more colors. I'll trust it to your discretion."

"Of course, Steve," Ms. Lillian agrees. "She'll be wearing these out, I assume?"

"Not the shoes." Steve is still looking at Bucky. "But everything else, yes."

Ms. Lillian nods and leaves them alone in the changing room, and Bucky trembles against Steve, overwhelmed with sensation and arousal. Is this really a thing that happened? Steve and a complete stranger dressed him up in lingerie and a woman touched his cock and they both talked about him like he wasn't even present?

Steve braces him firmly and helps Bucky step out of the shoes, before retrieving the clothes Bucky came in wearing and helping him put everything back on over the stockings, and garter belt, and panties.

It feels even more illicit than getting dressed again after a fresh wax, which, combining the two is cooking Bucky's brain right inside his skull. It's almost like when Steve milks his cock for slightly too long after he's come, that hard, bright, painful edge of overstimulation as silk and lace nylon rubs against his bare skin under his clothes.

This is what Steve wants when they go to the gala. He wants Bucky dressed pretty for him underneath; so nobody can see it, but they both know it's there. Bucky won't be able to walk a single step without feeling it all over him.

"Good?" asks Steve, as he adjusts the hem of Bucky's sweater. Bucky blinks at him, dazed, and nods. He feels good. He feels...expensive and pampered.

"Come on, then," says Steve, leading him out. "I need to take care of the bill, and collect the rest of your new items."

Bucky floats along, barely aware of what's happening around him. Steve and Ms. Lillian speak in low tones to each other and Steve takes care of the bill. Steve has his arm around Bucky's waist and Bucky leans his head against Steve's shoulder while he waits for Steve to finish.

"He really is very sweet, Steve," murmurs Ms. Lillian softly, or maybe he's not hearing it at all. Maybe it's a dream. "You seem...good, with him."

Steve's grip tightens slightly, nodding once. "Thanks for everything, Lil. We'll be back, I'm sure."

She gives them both a small smile and then a bit louder she says, "Have a good day, Captain."

Steve takes Bucky out of the store and puts him into the back of the car. Once they're both inside, he pulls Bucky right into his lap, Bucky curled into him, face tucked to the crook of his neck. Bucky sighs happily, warmly. This is all he ever wants, he's sure, to be held by Steve, cared for and protected and cherished. He loves being in Steve's arms. He loves...

It doesn't matter.

He sighs dreamily and lets himself be coaxed to sleep by Steve's hand petting his hair.
Bucky wakes up as Steve is carrying him into the apartment, his face still mashed into Steve's shoulder, one arm braced under Bucky's ass and the other curled up around his back and shoulders.

"...get the door, JARVIS?" Steve is saying softly.

"Of course, sir."

"Thank you."

Bucky doesn't move, enjoying this too much to bring himself to move or give any sign to Steve that he's woken up. He keeps his eyes closed, body limp, and breathes slow and deep as Steve carries him in.

It feels like the approximate distance from the entryway to Steve's bedroom, and Steve only shifts him then, sitting down on the edge of the bed and lifting Bucky into it. Bucky plays it up, mumbling sleepily and curling up onto his side, warm and a bit groggy, as Steve's hand ruffles his hair.

"I know you're awake, baby." Steve sounds amused.

"Mmm," mumbles Bucky. "Not. M'sleeping."

"Yeah," chuckles Steve. "Sure you are. Luckily I enjoy carrying you around. That really did you in, huh?"

"Which part?" yawns Bucky, finally opening his eyes, lids heavy.

"You were spacey after the spa and then you just checked out entirely," murmurs Steve. "You good?"

"Yeah," sighs Bucky, stretching out a little on the bed. "That was....different."

"Mmm," agrees Steve mildly. "Did you like it?"

Bucky considers that. "I liked...how you talked about me. And I liked being on display for you. I like being something you’re proud of."

"I am proud of you. You’re so good for me and even Ms. Lillian was impressed by you."

Bucky sucks on his bottom lip and then asks shyly, "Have you known her a long time?"

"I’ve known her since...well, long before I was Captain Rogers. She...taught me a little about what it means to be dominant...like in the games we play."

"Yeah," sighs Bucky, pillowing his head on his arms as he gazed at Steve, eyes still very heavy. "She seemed...like you."

Steve laughs at that. "She would eat you alive. She’s very good with...young twinks."

"That what you were when you met?"

Steve laughs again, seemingly caught by surprise at the boldness of Bucky’s question. "Yeah, something like that."

"That's hard to picture," admits Bucky sleepily. "But I guess everyone has to start somewhere."

"She's very focused on protocol," says Steve, thumbing at Bucky's chin. "She was impressed by your obedience, especially considering how new you are to the scene."

Bucky flushes warmly, proud. "I wanted to make you look good."

"You did," says Steve. "And you will, at the gala."

"Um," says Bucky, a bit of anxiety flaring up. "What do I... Are people going to talk to me? What should I tell them? I'm not super interesting and I don't have the kind of past anyone wants to hear about. I don't know...how to do small talk or speak to fancy rich people."

"Hmmm," murmurs Steve, stretching out alongside Bucky. "The thing about parties like this is it's very easy to avoid being open. And it's easy to bend the truth. You're doing an internship with Stark Industries for a year before college. Your duties are similar to those of a personal assistant."

"Okay," says Bucky. "And then I ask about them?"

"Exactly." Steve kisses his cheek. "If I had my way, Buck, and it was a different kind of party, you'd be on the end of a very short leash, you'd be bound securely, and you wouldn't be able to speak. You'd trail after me like a good boy, and people would ask about you, and I'd answer."

Bucky shudders, making a soft noise. He hadn't thought about anyone seeing him like that before, not the way Steve likes to keep him at home.

"You wouldn't be wearing a tux over all your pretty lingerie," Steve continues in a deep rumble. "I'd keep your cock and your hole busy, and you'd sit at my feet under the table during dinner."

"Fuck," mumbles Bucky, flushed and squirming. "Steve..."

"Aww, I've kept you on edge all day, huh?" mumbles Steve, pressing close to steal long kisses, his hand smoothing over Bucky's hip and hitching him close. "I guess I really should put you to use, what with how cute your ass looks in those panties."

Bucky's breath hitches a little and he squirms closer to Steve, pressing his face to his chest to hide it as he asks, "In the lingerie store. You called me a...girl. You used 'she' and said I was your 'pretty girl.'"

"Yes," agrees Steve. "Did it bother you?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Not...not if it was like when I'm your puppy. Just a game."

Steve is quiet and then he takes Bucky's chin and tips his face up to look Steve in the eyes. "But not if it was something else?" he asks carefully, searching Bucky's face.

"I just—you were married before," says Bucky.

Steve's eyebrows go up, looking surprised. "Yes."

"To a woman."

"Oh." His expression flattens and he sighs, leaning in to kiss Bucky's forehead. "I can promise you, I never spoke to Peggy like I did to you in that shop, and calling you my pretty girl is very much a game. I like that you're a man. I'm bisexual and I would never care to hide that. Do you understand?"

"I understand," says Bucky, that little flare of discomfort or...jealousy? Whatever it was. It fades away, and he can relax again, as Steve's hands start divesting him of his clothes.

"Good," says Steve. "I don't want you to think I'm ever trying to pretend you're someone else, Buck."

"Okay," says Bucky, a little breathless as Steve unzips his fly. "When I realized it was a game, and you...don't want me to actually be a girl, I liked it."

"Was it humiliating?" Steve asks, knowing.

Bucky considers that and finds it complicated. "The way you were both talking about me like I wasn't there was humiliating. Being a woman isn't. I know that I'm not, it was just... Wearing things I'd never worn, and being...touched like that. You've never...Let anyone do that. The spa doesn't count."

"You're right. It doesn't. But that was a special case. Lil isn't interested in you in that way," says Steve. "I wouldn't let anyone else touch you like that unless it was nonsexual."

"I like that," blurts Bucky, cheeks feeling warm as Steve continues to strip him back down to his panties and stockings, moving him around like he's just a toy, lifting his hips and peeling away his pants. God, he loves that Steve is so strong.

"Like what?" asks Steve, lifting Bucky into a sitting position to remove the last of his clothes, pulling his sweater up and off his head.

"That...you don't want anyone else to touch me like that, that I'm all yours," he admits.

Steve pushes him flat onto his back again and then shifts around until he's got Bucky's legs spread around his hips, his fully clothed body big and broad and warm, looming over Bucky. "Good, because I won't ever share you, not as long as we're together."

His hands skim up the silky nylons, dragging over sensitive skin and then settle firmly over Bucky's hips, hitching him closer, dragging him down the bed and off the pillows. "Steve!" gasps Bucky.

"Mmm?" hums Steve, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

It's amazing how small and naked he can make him feel. Not just physically naked, but stripped down, like he's seeing through him. But Bucky presses his lips closed, because he was about to say 'please'.

"Thought so," says Steve. "You almost forgot yourself. I have been teasing you something awful, huh. What a long, hard day it's been!" He's mocking him, now.

"I loved it," huffs Bucky, cheeks pink. "I just—"

Steve slaps his hip, a sharp sting. "'You just' nothing," says Steve harshly. "Behave. You've been so good, all day. Don't ruin it now, when I'm about to give you a treat."

"I'm sorry," whispers Bucky.

Steve cups Bucky's cock through the panties, stroking lightly. "Do you want to come?"

"Is that...a trick question?" gasps Bucky.

Steve grins at him, bright and happy. Bucky feels like he could fly. "No, not a trick question, but let me rephrase. If I let you come right now, will you be able to come again when I'm fucking you? Because I want you to come on my cock, but you have been waiting so long..." he rubs right over the head of Bucky's cock, the silk slipping against the precome that wells up as he squirms.

Oh god. Fuck it, yes. "Yes! I—I want to come now, too."

"Well, if you're sure," says Steve, finally slipping his hand under the silk, wrapping deft fingers around Bucky's cock. Bucky moans as Steve strokes him with quick efficiency, flicking his thumb over the head. Bucky's balls throb, his cock aching. He's been hard off and on all day long and this is too much, too good.

And then Steve adds, "But if my pretty girl doesn't come on my cock by the time I'm finished, I'll have to teach her a lesson for being a little liar."

Images of being laid out over Steve's lap, ass in the air while Steve spanks it bright red flash through his head, and Bucky's hips jerk up into Steve's grasp as he shouts and comes.
Steve laughs indulgently, using Bucky's come to slick the way, continuing to stroke his spent cock as he milks him firmly.

"Ahh," gasps Bucky, jerking against the tight grip of too much. "Ah, god, Steve!"

"Yeah," croons Steve. "I know. You're such an easy little slut, huh? Barely had to touch you to make you come. Let's hope you can come again when I'm inside you."

Even if he can't, Bucky thinks a punishment from Steve when just the thought of it made him come that hard that fast won't necessarily be a hardship. It might hurt, but he'll still like it. "I will," he says anyway. "I promise, Steve, I want to come on your cock, please!"

Oh. Shit.

Steve's eyebrows both go up. "Well, you're certainly slipping up a bit, aren't you." He tugs the panties aside, exposing Bucky's hole, pressing come-slick fingers roughly inside him. "Where's my good girl from before? I let you come and this is how you behave?"

"No," gasps Bucky, shaking his head, eyes watering as Steve's fingers tug and stretch at his rim brusquely. "No, I'm sorry."

"That's twice you've had to apologize," says Steve. "Careful, or it'll become meaningless. You're not angling for a punishment, are you?"

Bucky shakes his head quickly. "No, I want to be good for you."

"Uh huh, but you came so quickly at the thought of me punishing you, didn't you?" Steve's fingers are still pressing and tugging inside of him, uncomfortable but he wants them anyway.

"I—I just like when—" he breaks off, his cheeks flaming.

"When I hurt you?" asks Steve neutrally.

Bucky whines, biting down on his lip and nodding, toes curling.

"Mmm, you're just a little stimulation slut. You just like to feel—good, bad, doesn't matter. So long as it's a lot and I do it to you, huh?" Steve tugs his fingers free then and gives Bucky a rough slap on the inside of his thigh that makes him gasp.

Bucky nods again. "Anything, I want you to do anything you want to me."

And the thing is, Bucky means it. He trusts Steve more than he trusts himself, and he knows that's dangerous and horrible because in 11 months this all ends and then what will he do? But for now, it's okay. For now, Steve decides and Bucky needs it as much as he needs to breathe. He'll figure out how to live without it next year.

"I know," says Steve, leaning over him to grab the lube and a condom from the drawer. "I know, life is so much easier when you don't have to think, isn't it? Just be whatever I tell you to be. My pretty little toy or my dumb puppy or my sweet girl or my greedy slut."

Bucky nods, watching hungrily as Steve only undoes his pants enough to free his cock, carefully slicking it and rolling on on the condom.

"Well, then, that should have been enough prep for you," says Steve, grabbing Bucky by the hips and guiding his cock in, the blunt head pressing thick and hot at Bucky's hole.

Steve hasn't even taken the panties off him, just pulled them aside, and oh, god, he's just going to push in. Bucky wants it so bad. Just Steve, thick and hard, stretching him open.

"Anything," groans Bucky, as Steve's cockhead breaches him, so slowly. "Anything!"

"You are sweet, even if you're greedy," groans Steve. He is moving, but it's at a pace that seems to be taking them both apart, Bucky moaning at the tight fit, the pressure, the sting and ache of not enough prep, while Steve breathes steady but shallow through his nose, eyes wide.

"This what you wanted?" he says roughly, holding Bucky down as he slides in. "You want it to hurt a bit? To really feel me?"

"Yes," gasps Bucky, clenching involuntarily and whimpering as his entire body tenses. "Oh god, thank you, Steve!"

"Ah, there," sighs Steve, sweat beading on his brow. "So polite and grateful."

Bucky can already feel his own cock trying to get hard again, and he has no idea if it will all the way, if he'll be able to actually come, but he thinks—he thinks this might be one of those times Steve drags that sharp-edged thing out of him that's mostly like an orgasm but something terrible and overwhelming too.

His eyes prickle and he reaches for Steve, fingers wrapping around Steve's tie, tugging on expensive fabric. "Y-you feel good."

But Steve's hands wrap around his wrists and he leans forward, pinning them firmly to the bed above Bucky's head, hips rolling against Bucky in a sharp thrust that fills him up entirely, and makes them both gasp. "Yeah, fuck, so good, such a sweet, tight little hole for me to use. And you're going to come for me, aren't you? You're going to come just like this, my pretty girl all dressed up for me, squirming on my cock, desperate for anything I'll give you, isn't that right?"

Bucky nods, hitching his legs up around Steve's waist, crossing his ankles to keep him close, to get more as Steve starts to move. All words fly from his head as Steve begins fucking him in earnest. Nothing matters but having this. Every push of Steve's cock into his body is bright pleasure that scorches his brain. Steve's mouth claims his and Bucky sobs into the kiss, into how good every second of this feels.

Bucky is open and raw and Steve can have every inch of him that he wants to have. All that matters is Steve coming inside him; if Bucky doesn't come, then Steve will fix that. Steve will make it right.

Bucky doesn't have to worry at all.

He loses himself in that, in the sensation of Steve moving inside him, his mouth and lips and hands, his cock drilling into Bucky, angling for his prostate and making him wail.

It hurts, and it feels incredible, and Bucky is lost to it. If he hadn't met Steve, would he ever have discovered this kind of pleasure? Would anyone ever have given him what he didn't know he wanted?

Steve comes before him.

He registers it because Steve bites down on his shoulder, cock buried deep, his big body shuddering, and Bucky moans weakly.

"Oh, babe," sighs Steve. “Sweetheart, you lied to me. What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sorry," says Bucky, shaking his head. "Sorry, Steve, sorry! I'm—"

Steve puts his hand over Bucky's mouth, still rocking his hips as he chases the last bits of pleasure, cock softening. "Shhh. I don't want more lies."

Bucky whimpers, eyes fluttering, but he gives into it, into the way everything aches but isn't enough, the way Steve kisses across his shoulder, over the bite mark he left, the soft rock of Steve's hips until his cock slips free and Bucky is left open and needy. He's whatever Steve wants, and that's okay. That's safe, no matter if it hurts or feels good. Steve decides and Steve will take care of him.

"Looking so sweet, acting so sweet, but when it comes down to it... a sweet little liar is what you really are, making me think you would come on my cock. But you didn't did you?" sighs Steve, finally pulling his hand from Bucky's mouth to push himself up, reaching down to pinch off the condom.

Bucky licks his lips, "I—it felt good, having you inside of me. I didn't need to come again, I just—"

Steve reaches up and brusquely pinches one of Bucky's nipples, harsh and deliberate. Bucky gasps, thrashing with the unexpected pain. "I don't want excuses anymore than I wanted your sorries. I don't care if you needed to come, Bucky. You said you would, and you lied."

Steve gets up from the bed easily, trotting out of the room and into the bathroom. Bucky squirms on the bed, cock still plump in the panties, ass aching and desperate to be filled. He clutches at the sheets beneath him, waiting for Steve's return. Steve didn't tell him to get up, and right now, Bucky's certain he's earned enough punishment for the evening.

Sure enough, when Steve gets back, he's got... god. A long, black paddle along with a thick plug, his gag, and the cuffs. Steve, notably, has only loosened his tie and taken off his jacket. He's still in his crisp white shirt and vest, looking fit and stupidly in control. Bucky isn't going to survive this, but he's really okay with that. Let him die on Steve Rogers's cock.

"Look at you, already drooling for it, aren't you?"

Bucky nods, because there's no point pretending. Steve knows. Steve is going to destroy him in the best possible way.

Steve snorts. He puts everything on the bed, settles one knee on the edge for leverage, and then unceremoniously flips Bucky over onto his belly. Grabbing his wrists, he buckles him into the cuffs, hands secured at the small of his back.

"This is meant to be uncomfortable," says Steve, "but knowing you, you'll get off on it." He tucks his hand under Bucky's knee and drags his leg up under him, repeating the motion with his other leg, so that Bucky is hunched over, kneeling awkwardly on the bed, the panties riding up his ass at the angle. Pulling the panties to the side again, Bucky draws in a deep breath just in time for Steve to very deliberately shove the plug inside him.

"Ah, god," mumbles Bucky, muffled against the mattress, his asshole throbbing at the sudden stretch around the thick plug. It fills him snugly, and Steve lets the panties snap back in place, taking a good handful of Bucky's ass and squeezing.

Steve gets on the bed, leaning into the pillows at the headboard, before stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankle. "Come here," he orders. "Lie over my lap."

Bucky shuffles to obey, draping himself over Steve's lap with some difficulty. Steve arranges him, ass arched up over his lap, stroking the curve of it. "Good. Where you belong. Face down, ass up." Bucky nods blindly. He can't really lift his head, can't see.

Turns out he doesn't need to; Steve drags his head up by the hair, and a moment later, he's cramming the ball gag into his mouth and buckling it on tightly.

God. There it is. Exactly what Bucky needs to keep himself out of trouble. He can't beg. He can't lie. He can't do anything but take what Steve gives. He lets out a breath through his nose, sagging against Steve's lap.

"Fuck, look at you." Steve tugs his hair just sharply enough to make Bucky whine. "Such a slut—pain, pleasure, attention. Well, I suppose as long as you learn your lesson. You can manage that, can't you?"

Bucky nods again, even though it pulls against Steve's grip.

"I suppose we'll see," says Steve, and with that he picks up the paddle and brings it squarely down on Bucky's ass.

His whole body jerks with the stinging, burning pain that radiates across his skin, prickles as the lace and silk rub against it. The panties are too thin and delicate to even blunt the pain all that much, and they contribute awfully to the sensation after. Bucky whines.

"This is what you earned, baby. Don't complain," scolds Steve, and brings the paddle down again. And again.

Every time, it stings and aches, the pain fading into a horrible, mean prickles across his skin that makes him squirm and sob. His body tightens up with every impact of the paddle, squeezing around the plug, and it's like being fucked all over again. Steve holds him down firmly, a hand braced on the back of Bucky's neck.

Ragged breaths wheeze out of Bucky's lungs as he cries in relief that he has Steve, that Steve understands how to take care of him. This is what he deserves, what he needs. He feels shivery and weak and on edge and perfect, fragile glass that's been shattered and then put back together in a new, better image. His cock is fully hard again, pressed against Steve's thigh, and he has no idea if Steve will let him come again now, and it doesn't matter.

If he wanted to come, he should have done it when he promised Steve he would.

His cheek rubs against the sheets and Steve lands one last smack against his tender ass. "There, that's better."

Bucky's soft cries are muffled and weak against the gag as he nods his head. It is better.

Steve is quiet, then, as if he's considering something, and then... His hands settle on Bucky's tender ass, cupping both cheeks, squeezing and kneading and rubbing, as Bucky lets out an embarrassing squeal.

Steve, though, Steve doesn't relent. Why should he? Bucky earned this. He earned every slap and pinch, he earned throbbing skin and burning flesh, tears wetting his cheeks as he sobs desperately. Steve indulges in spanking him barehanded, palms landing on the very backs and tops of his thighs, where the panties cut up high to reveal bare ass.

"Unh! Unh! Ahh!" cries Bucky, jerking as Steve lands a smack over the plug. As Bucky draws tight like a bowstring, Steve ceases the spanking, caressing inflamed skin, before gripping the base of the plug and starting to toy with it, in and out, rotating it, rocking it into Bucky.

"I bet you want to come now," says Steve darkly. "I can feel you greedy little cock drooling on my leg."

"Uh-uh!" Bucky shakes his head. "Uh-uh!"

"No? You'd go to bed hard and aching? You'd go to bed all bound up because you can't be trusted?"

"Mmm!'" Bucky nods frantically, crying now. He doesn't want Steve to be upset with him, he wants Steve to be proud of his restraint! He doesn't need to come!

Steve is quiet for so long, Bucky's worried he's only made it worse, that Steve will think he's only agreeing to get out of trouble. But finally, Steve's touch goes gentle, a soft caress against reddened skin. "Okay," he says. "If that's what you want, to prove you've learned your lesson. Do you need to go to the bathroom before going to sleep?"

Bucky sniffles, shaking his head.

"Okay then," says Steve. With firm hands, he guides Bucky off of his lap and onto his side on the bed, hands still bound behind his back, gag still tightly in place. "Stay."

Bucky shivers at the command, but stays exactly where Steve put him, tears still trickling down his cheeks, across his face as he lays sideways. He hears Steve get up, the bed shifting behind him, and then pad across the room and into the bathroom. There's the usual sounds of the bathroom, Steve getting undressed and pulling on pajamas, and then the dip of the bed as he crawls back in behind Bucky.

"JARVIS, lights."

The lights go down and Steve puts his arm around Bucky and pulls him close, spooning up behind him.

Bucky is vibrating with want and tension but also—god. Everything hurts and Steve is warm and holding him close and it was such a good day, even if Bucky earned a punishment—it's okay. Because Steve took care of it. He didn't ruin anything. He's still exactly who Steve wants him to be.

On those thoughts, he drifts off. Through the night, he wakes multiple times to Steve waking, moving him around, undoing restraints and repositioning him and then binding his wrists again, cupping his cock and rubbing it through Bucky's panties until he's just as hard as when he started, quivering in Steve's embrace.

It leaves Bucky dazed and gasping, whimpering and helpless, half-asleep in Steve's arms as Steve settles back down to go to sleep after he's finished working Bucky up again.

It's torture. Edging him into near-climax and then stopping just before Bucky might come, kissing him sweetly and then going back to sleep. Bucky makes a soft, forlorn noise, so relieved he can't beg, because he's be breaking Steve's rule if he could speak.

Steve just kisses the back of his neck and hushes him, and, somehow, Bucky goes back to sleep.

In the morning, Bucky wakes to his wrists bound to the headboard, arms stretched above his head, and just as he's coming to terms with this new position, he blinks heavily and looks down just as Steve tugs the panties down and takes Bucky's cock into his mouth.

Bucky lets out a thin, garbled wail, shuddering at the snug wet heat of it. If Steve edges him again and leaves him, Bucky might die.

He doesn't, though. Instead, he grips Bucky's hips to keep him still, and works Bucky effortlessly back up to desperate arousal before pushing him over into orgasm as Bucky arches and sobs, muffled behind the gag, tears streaming down his cheeks as he comes down Steve's throat.

Steve sucks him through every last wave of his orgasm until it’s just on the edge of too much. When he pulls off, he kisses Bucky’s hip and then sits up. "I’m proud of you, Buck. You did so good. You learned your lesson so well, didn’t you?"

Bucky nods, feeling like he’s maybe dreaming, but then Steve crawls up and lays over him, heavy and solid, kissing his cheek. "You’re going to be so good for me at the gala too, aren’t you? Everyone there will be jealous of me for having such a pretty, perfect date."

Bucky sniffles and nods again, making a soft sound. Yes, he’ll be good, he’ll make Steve look good, he’ll do whatever Steve wants.

Steve kisses his forehead and then finally starts undoing all of Bucky’s restraints, easing out the gag and massaging his jaw, releasing his arms and checking over his wrists. When he seems satisfied he picks Bucky right up and carries him to a bath that he must have drawn just before waking Bucky up, the jets keeping it nice and hot.

Bucky loves this part. The aftercare. Steve is always so tender and soft with him, always so attentive. Not that he isn’t those things other times, but now it’s just for Bucky’s benefit. He feels content and well-cared for, like a cherished cat who gets anything he wants. Steve’s strong hands clean him up, thorough and gentle, his lips graze Bucky’s jaw and shoulders and neck, and Bucky feels like a million dollars by the time Steve stands him up and towels him down.

"You awake now?" he teases, leaning in to catch Bucky’s lips in a quick kiss.

"Mmm," says Bucky, smiling happily as he stretches. "If I have to be."

"You don't have to be anything," assures Steve. "You can be a lazy little housecat and go to sleep again after I leave. Your day is all yours, okay? Do something nice with it."

"Okay," says Bucky. There's a slight tinge of disappointment that Steve is leaving, but obviously he has work. Bucky can't be with him constantly. Not only is that crazy, Bucky doesn't think he wants it. He likes it when he gets a day off.

They have breakfast together first, waffles and fruit and bacon brought up from the kitchen, and then Steve kisses Bucky and leaves, and Bucky does end up going back to sleep for a while. With a full belly, the poor sleep from the night before catches up with him, and he curls up in his own bed for once and naps for a couple of hours.

When he wakes up, he's a lot clearer in head, feeling warm and happy and settled.

He also realizes it's been a while since he did any work on searching for his sister.

Grabbing his laptop, he nests on the couch in the living room, checking his email and sending out some follow ups. He hasn't gotten a lot of replies to his questions and he's immediately frustrated by it.

"JARVIS?" he asks, glaring at his laptop. "Can I tell you a secret? You can't tell anyone."

"I have a strict privacy protocol regarding our conversations," says JARVIS.

It’s good enough for Bucky.

"I think I have a twin sister," he blurts. "And I'm trying to find her, and I haven't really gotten anywhere, and it's a fucking pain in the ass!"

"Were you separated at birth?"

"No," says Bucky, sighing. "At like...four years old? Our parents died in a car accident. I'm sure I remember her. I'm sure I do. Except when I think I made it up."

There’s a pause and then, "Captain Rogers had a very thorough background check completed on you prior to inviting you into his home. I could utilize some of those records to assist you?"

Bucky blinks. It’s not that he’s shocked there was a background study done. He just never thought of...asking for help. "You...can do that?"

"Of course, I have extensive resources that are at your disposal within certain security parameters. With your permission, I can also access what you have already done and integrate that with the information gained in the background check."

"Uh...okay," says Bucky, fidgeting with a piece of paper. "And Steve doesn’t have to know?"

"No, he could request that my privacy protocols be overridden if he desired, but Captain Rogers has shown no interest in doing so beyond ensuring your safety. I will not volunteer the information without your permission."

Bucky chews on his bottom lip a moment, staring at the latest email that is nothing but another dead end from the county social worker. Taking a shaky breath, he says, "I think her name was Becca."

"I will begin my search immediately. I will update you via email for your privacy unless we are alone. Is that acceptable, Mr. Barnes?"

"Yes, thank you, JARVIS."

It really doesn't take long. Steve isn't actually home yet, so in the middle of the afternoon, after Bucky has spent his day wandering around restlessly, JARVIS suddenly announces, "Mr. Barnes, I believe I have a significant lead."

Bucky jumps up like he's been shocked, his heart pounding. "You do? Tell me, please!"

"I have found a record that seems to match, for a Rebecca Proctor, age 23, born March 10, 1995."

Bucky's eyes well with tears. "Rebecca!" he cries. "That's it! That's her! That's our birthday, I was right!" He has to sit down, hard, realizing he's almost hyperventilating and working to calm himself down. "Where? Is she in the state?"

"She is in the city, Mr. Barnes. Queens." JARVIS reads him an address, and Bucky starts to cry.

He covers his face with his hands, overwhelmed.

"Mr. Barnes? Do you need Captain Rogers?"

"No," gasps Bucky, wiping his eyes. "No, I'm fine. Thanks, JARVIS. Thank you so much. I'm so grateful."

"Of course, Mr. Barnes. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Do you have any way of finding an email address for her?"

A pause then, "I have sent it to your email address."

"Thank you again, JARVIS," says Bucky, feeling absolutely wiped out. He can’t believe it, after all this time. He has a twin. She’s alive. She exists.

After a little while, Bucky goes to his computer and just...stares at the email address for a little while: [email protected], right there, this whole time. She goes to NYU. Bucky...could go there. He bets Steve would give him permission if he asked. That would be normal. Just...assessing his college options.

He resolves to email her on Monday. He doesn’t think he can take the anticipation of waiting for her reply while keyed up for Steve’s gala. And he wants to be good for Steve's gala.

So, he’ll focus on Steve. "JARVIS, can you ask Steve what he wants for dinner?"

"Certainly," says JARVIS. After a few minutes, "The captain says he’d like some pizza. From wherever your favorite place is, whatever you like best."

Oh. It’s been a month and they’ve mostly been eating either from the kitchens in the building or whatever Bucky feels like cooking. This feels significant somehow.

Bucky cocks his head, thinking. His favourite pizza place is pretty far away and he's pretty sure they don't do delivery, but he doesn't think that's going to present a problem for JARVIS on behalf of Steve fucking Rogers.

"John's," he says. "The Bleeker Street location."

There's a brief pause. "And what would you like?"

"Two pies," begins Bucky, because Steve said to choose whatever he likes best. "One with extra cheese and roasted garlic. The other with extra cheese, tomato slices, mushrooms, and... hell, roasted garlic on that one, too."

"The order has been placed," JARVIS says after a moment. "And I have told Captain Rogers when he should arrive home for dinner."

"Thanks, JARVIS," says Bucky softly. "For...for everything. You're—I know you're... I mean, I think you're pretty rad. You're easy to talk to."

"Thank you, sir," says JARVIS. "I enjoy your company."

Still feeling jittery but happy about the fact that John's pizza is coming to him, Bucky finds something to put on Netflix and tries to relax into some semblance of normality before Steve gets home. Has Becca ever been to John's? Does she like pizza? Maybe he can ask her to meet him there, and he can share it with her. Does she remember him? Has she ever tried to find him, too?

He's so lost in thought, slumped over on the couch, eyes fixed unseeing on the TV, that Steve has to step in front of him, blocking the screen, before Bucky notices him.

"Hey," says Steve, looking concerned, bending over him and brushing at his bangs. "You okay?"

Bucky blinks and then pushes up, feeling guilty. He was going to focus on Steve, not...Becca. "Sorry, I—Yeah, I was just thinking."

Steve's thumb glides over his jaw and he tucks a stray bit of hair behind Bucky's ear. "Yeah? Anything you want to talk about?"

Bucky quickly shakes his head. God. No. He can't tell Steve about all this. He's supposed to be an uncomplicated toy, a doll for Steve to possess and use as he likes over the next year. And yes, Steve is good to him, but that's not what this is between them. He's not Bucky's boyfriend. He's Bucky's employer. "Just...thinking about school. If I'll be any good at it," he lies quickly.

"Hmm, well you've been before, right?" says Steve reasonably. "You'll get the hang of it."

"Yeah, I guess," agrees Bucky. "But um, the pizza should be here soon."

"It is on the way up the elevator now," says JARVIS. "Shall I let them in?"

"Yeah, have them bring it to the kitchen," says Steve, then to Bucky, "Did you get your favorite?"

"Yes! I got John's. Have you ever had it?" Bucky can't decide if he wants the answer to be yes or no.

Steve frowns. "I've heard of it, but never gotten around to trying."

"Then get ready for the best pizza in the city," declares Bucky, getting up off the couch. "It's one of those brick ovens, and the crust is all thin and crispy..."

The pizza is incredible. It's been a long time since Bucky had the funds to treat himself to John's, and between him and Steve, they basically eat most of the two pies. Steve is equally enthusiastic about it, agreeing that Bucky's choice of toppings was delicious, and they even have some leftovers that Steve says Bucky can have for lunch the next day.

Steve is being particularly indulgent with him, not that Bucky is complaining. Steve is never unkind, but he's firm and uncompromising, and this weekend he's downright doting. It's honestly a blur, after dinner—Bucky does start worrying about the gala again, which is all tied up in anxiety that keeps surfacing about Becca.

What if she doesn't want to meet him? What if she doesn't have room in her life for more family? He finds himself standing motionless in the shower, a couple of hours before the event, startled back to life when JARVIS reminds him of the time.

He's focusing on Steve, on making Steve proud, on making sure he looks good at the event! He can't be distant or distracted. He can't be thinking of Becca.

By the time he's stumbling out of the bathroom, mostly dry, Steve is almost fully dressed in his bespoke tuxedo, standing by the dresser putting in cufflinks. Bucky stops short at seeing the custom tailored lingerie spread out on the bed for him.

"Oh wow," he mumbles, cheeks burning.

"Lil did outdo herself, didn't she?" murmurs Steve as he looks up.

Bucky nods. "Please, tell her I said thank you."

"I'll pass that along." Steve comes over, pulling Bucky close and tipping his chin up. "I know you're nervous about tonight, but you don't have to be. You're smart and capable and you're going to make me proud. And when it's all done, I'm going to bring you back here and fuck you until you can't see straight."

Oh god. All he can bring himself to do is nod. That is the good thing about Steve Rogers, sometimes he just demands attention in everything he does, yanking Bucky right out of his own head and where Steve wants him instead.

"Good, now, go bend over. You need the first part of your outfit on to start." Steve gives him a little swat on the ass as he goes, and Bucky shivers as he obeys, bending over the bed, legs spread.

Steve is quick and efficient about it, slick fingers teasing over his hole and then pushing in. "There you go. Always such an eager little hole for me. Such a good boy."

Bucky clutches at the bed beneath him and nods again, groaning at the thick plunges of Steve's fingers. "I am, I will be, I promise."

"Shhh, I know. You don't have to say it. You just enjoy this, baby," sighs Steve, his other hand gives Bucky a warm squeeze on the back of his neck as he pushes in a third finger. "When you're nervous tonight, when all those people are looking at you and asking you questions, you just remember this, huh? You remember that you're mine, and that makes you better than all of them."

"I remember," pants Bucky, nodding frantically, biting back a moan as Steve stretches him open efficiently. He doesn't get a lot of prep; just enough to open him up for the plug that presses against his hole a moment later, blunt head firm and solid against his rim as Steve pushes it snug inside him.

Bucky spreads his thighs, relaxes, drops his head into his arms as Steve slides the plug in deep and makes sure it's settled with a heavy tap against the base.

"That's it," sighs Steve. "A nice fat reminder, all night, of what you'll get when we're all done. All ready for me."

He palms Bucky's ass and squeezes possessively, then pulls Bucky back up to his feet, steadying him when he sways dizzily. Steve helps him into the panties, next, sliding them up his hips and over the curve of his ass, silk and lace pressed close, his cock tucked in snugly, the swollen head peeking just over the waistband.

It's a lot of being touched and stroked, Steve doing everything for him, and Bucky melts into it. He leans heavily into Steve as he smooths the stockings up his legs, whimpering softly as Steve delicately puts the garter on him and clips it on the stockings.

When that's done, Steve walks him to the mirror and makes him look at himself, Steve stood behind him, hands firm on Bucky's hips.

The matched set is a rich dark blue colour, the stockings muted and sheer, his eager cock all packaged up in pretty fabric. Bucky swallows hard, his face flushed and hot as he squirms under Steve's hands.

"That's what you look like," Steve murmurs into his ear. "That's what I'll see every time I look at you tonight, even when you're all covered up. I'll know what you're wearing underneath, what's inside you."

Bucky's mouth parts, everything going a little blurry, his head spinning at that thought. He's Steve's; he's pretty and dressed up, just for him. Steve will see this every time he looks Bucky's way.

"Thank you," he gasps, because god, Steve knows just how to keep him from overthinking meeting a bunch of rich strangers.

Steve kisses his cheek. "You're welcome. Now, let's put your tux on because as much as I like the idea of parading you around in this, I don't particularly want to share this sight with any of the people in attendance tonight."

Bucky nods and lets himself be guided through putting on the tux that arrived for him this afternoon, Steve's touch confident and easy as he gets him dressed. Bucky gets another wave of dizziness as Steve ties his bowtie, snug against his throat and so, so close.

"There you go," says Steve with one last little pat to his chest, stepping back to appraise him. "A handsome young man. All those rich widows will want to eat you with a spoon."

Bucky can feel his cheeks burn. "I'll just...remember what you told me," says Bucky, feeling happy and light for the first time since JARVIS offered to help him find Becca.

"You'd better," grumbles Steve, brushing an imaginary piece of fuzz from his lapel. "I doubt any of them would know what to do with you anyway."

Bucky grins. "Trust me, I know exactly who I want to go home with tonight."

Steve gives him a real kiss before stepping back. "We'd better get going. I'll never hear the end of it if I'm more fashionably late than Tony."

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

A charity gala attended by the richest people in New York City is, unsurprisingly, just as overwhelming as Bucky guessed it would be.

From the moment they get out of Steve's sporty car, Bucky is blinded by flash photography and so many people are yelling Steve's name that Bucky has no idea where to look. He can't wilt, though, and he can't look terrified, so he schools his expression into a bland, neutral smile, and he clings to Steve's arm and lets Steve take over. He's arm candy, he's an accessory; he doesn't need to do anything but look pretty, nod, speak only when spoken to, and laugh at anything that sounds like a joke.

Steve sweeps through confidently, guiding Bucky along with him. There's a flurry of action at the doors, before Steve gets past the initial throng of press, and then they're inside, where it's a bit more sedate.

"Okay?" Steve murmurs.

"Fine," he says quietly, nodding.

"Good," says Steve, his lips just touching Bucky's ear. "Brace yourself."

"Steve!" yells a dark haired, goateed man that approaches them right in the foyer. He's holding a martini and wearing sunglasses indoors. It's definitely Tony Stark. Bucky only saw him once, in passing, during his short-lived mail clerk job, but he makes an impression. "Finally! I've been here ten whole minutes!"

"Tony," says Steve dryly. "I saw you get out of the car ahead of me."

"Still got here first," says Tony, and Bucky catches a flicker of movement behind the dark lenses and gets the impression Tony is look at him now. "Ah. Nat was right. You do have a boyto—a friend."

Bucky can feel his face heating up. "Aww, and look at that, he blushes!" says Tony immediately.

"Tony, this is my date, Bucky Barnes. Bucky, this is Tony Stark, who is technically my boss but mostly a pain in my ass and unfortunately one of my closest friends," says Steve with a laugh, giving Bucky a quick, reassuring squeeze.

"I can't believe friend is third on that list. It should be at least ahead of pain in the ass. I'm hurt, truly. Anyway, I'm barely anyone's boss, even my own these days," says Tony with a dismissive wave. "Speaking of, I can't wait for Pepper to meet your date. She'll be so proud." He looks over at Bucky again and, as if remembering himself, adds, "It's nice to meet you, Bucky."

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Stark," says Bucky, hoping his voice doesn't give away the amount of panic he feels.

"Tony, please," says Tony. "And enjoy yourselves tonight. I have to go tattle on Steve now. Catch you later!" He swaggers away and Bucky lets out a breath.

"Honestly, that's one of the harder intros of the night out of the way," says Steve. "You did great."

"Are there going to be harder ones?"

"Mmm, maybe in a different way. Tony can be overwhelming as a personality in general. Our friend Nat has been...curious about who is occupying my time lately. She's… Well, you'll see. It's fine. I'll handle it. You're doing great."

"Okay," breathes Bucky, even though he doesn't really believe that visibly blushing and stammering his way through a platitude is 'doing great' but...that's not for him to decide, is it? If Steve says it's fine, then it's fine.

Steve keeps guiding him in, getting stopped several times, though Steve's greetings are largely impersonal and Bucky can tell none of the people they speak to are close friends or confidantes. Steve introduces Bucky as a Stark Industries intern, small talk is exchanged, and Steve moves on.

A very handsome man with gold-brown eyes strides up, back straight and chin up. He walks like Steve. "Steve! Nice of you to show up to your own—"

"Sam," says Steve, interrupting him. "Let me introduce you to Bucky Barnes, my date for the evening."

Sam's friendly gaze shifts to Bucky and he smiles, holding out his hand. "Bucky, nice to meet you. I'm Sam Wilson, VP of Accounts at Stark and this guy's secret keeper. For a drink and a smile, I will tell you every single one, though."

Bucky grins, feeling knots untangle from his stomach. "Oh yeah? What kind of secrets?"

"None of your concern," says Steve, giving Sam a sharp look, though he can't seem to keep a straight face. "Sam and I met in grad school, different programs but we kept running into each other. He was in the Air Force, so similar life experiences. We've been friends ever since."

"Yeah right. This one just knew I was the handsomest man on campus and he was hoping he'd get more attractive by association." Sam winks at Bucky.

"Hmm, didn't seem to work," says Bucky, Sam's joking mood rubbing off on him. "You've still got him beat by a mile."

"Ooooh," howls Sam. "I like him. He's sharp. He'll keep you in check."

Steve purses his lips but still looks amused. "We'll see about that. Catch you later, Sam. We've got more introductions to make."

"Sure, see you at dinner. Have fun!"

Steve doesn't scold him as they move away, and in the main ballroom, Bucky continues to relax a little bit, put at ease by at least one normal interaction. This is fine. He stands next to Steve, accepts the food and drink he's handed, and he smiles pleasantly and tells a lot of people it's nice to meet them. He's glancing out over the crowd when a gorgeous woman with flaming red hair and sharp green eyes appears in front of him.

"Hi there," she murmurs in a husky voice. She's wearing an immaculately fitted black dress, and if Bucky was into women, he'd definitely be struck dumb that a woman this beautiful spoke to him first.

"Hi," he says, feeling a lot like a pinned bug under her gaze.

"Natasha," says Steve, tugging Bucky back in close with an arm around his waist. "There you are. You look stunning, as always."

"Thank you," she says, gesturing dismissively. "So. Are you going to introduce us?"

"Bucky," sighs Steve. "This is Natasha Romanoff. Nat, this is Bucky Barnes, my lovely date for the evening."

"Ah, the mysterious source of all those smiles I've seen on Steve's face lately," she says. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

Source of what now? "It's nice to meet you too," he says on autopilot. Ask a question back, engage in polite conversation, get them to talk about themselves. That's what he's supposed to do, right? "Do you work with Steve?"

Steve seems tense, maybe, but not in an angry way, and Bucky leans into him on instinct. Steve's arm tightens around him, but his shoulders do relax just a little. Natasha's sharp gaze seems to take it all in. "Yes, I'm the Vice President of Communications. Which means a lot of nothing, but they keep me around."

Steve snorts. "Don't let her fool you. The wheels would fall off of Stark Industries without her and she knows it."

Natasha takes a drink of her champagne and gives nothing away about what she thinks of that statement. Instead, her attention goes to Bucky again. "So, tell me about yourself, Bucky. Where are you from? How did you meet Steve?"

Okay, these answers he has down to a science, perfected by answering it millions of times. "I'm from Brooklyn, and we met in the mail room at Stark."

"A Brooklyn boy just like Steve, you must have so much in common," she says lightly.

Bucky is startled for a moment. He didn't know Steve was from Brooklyn too. How did he not know that?

"Yes, we have plenty to talk about. But I'm sure you have other guests to greet. We shouldn't take up all your time." Steve's voice sounds forced and tight. "Thanks for swinging by."

"Well of course," she says, smiling again. "We should have dinner sometime soon, catch up, You could bring Bucky."

"I'll have JARVIS take a look at my schedule," says Steve. "Bye Natasha."

"Bye, Steve. It really was so nice to meet you, Bucky. Make sure he dances with you. He's an amazing dancer but he pretends he doesn't like it," and with one more tidbit of information dropped, Natasha sweeps away.

Bucky looks up at Steve, a little anxious. "Was that okay? Did I say something wrong?" he whispers.

"No," Steve murmurs warmly, kissing Bucky's temple. "You were fine. She's nosy. You did great."

Bucky exhales, nodding. He feels raw, tingling with tension; when he moves, he feels his clothes brush over the lingerie, clinging so tightly to his bare skin. When he shifts how he's standing, he becomes very aware of the plug in his ass. At least it's not as big as the one Steve uses on him for home play, and at least it doesn't vibrate, but it's still...up his ass. At a public event. While he introduces himself to people Steve knows.

God. "Will you dance with me?" he hears himself asking. More movement! Exactly what he needs to make himself more conscious of his low-grade arousal, but he can't help it. Steve is an amazing dancer??

"I was hoping you'd be a little too uncomfortable for that," Steve admits softly.

Bucky hums. "Okay, well, why didn't you tell me you're from Brooklyn, too? That's pretty innocuous."

Steve's cheeks actually go a little pink. "I guess it didn't really come up."

Because Steve was too busy just...fucking him. They're not in an actual relationship, after all. They didn't do the usual 'get to know you' date. Within the first weekend, Bucky was hogtied and squirming, thrown over Steve's shoulder while he carted him cheerfully through the house.

Natasha thinks they're dating, but Bucky is Steve's toy.

Basics re-established, Bucky says, "Dance with me? Slowly. I guarantee you I'll regret it."

Steve's blue eyes slide to his, the previous embarrassment melting away into dark interest. "Is that so?" asks Steve. "Maybe I should tell you no then, for your own good."

Bucky bites back a groan, shifting from foot to foot just to feel the plug inside him again. "I guess I could ask someone else to dance... It would be polite, wouldn’t it?"

Something flashes across Steve’s face that he doesn’t quite catch, but Steve tugs him around quickly so they’re facing each other. He glances over Bucky’s shoulder at the room and then his hand slides around Bucky’s hip to his ass and takes a firm handful, pulling Bucky against him. "Are you already forgetting what you were supposed to remember tonight?"

Bucky’s breath catches and he shakes his head. They’re in a more secluded edge of the party and the lights are low, but that doesn’t mean people can’t or won’t see. He can feel the tight silk of his panties against his cock.

"And what was it you were to keep in mind?" asks Steve.

"I’m yours," says Bucky without hesitation.

"Yeah," breathes Steve. And maybe hearing that, knowing that, reassures Steve too. "You are."

Steve’s grip loosens and Bucky steps back naturally, tingling all over, heart racing. Steve guides Bucky’s arm through his and then wordlessly takes him out to the dance floor just as the orchestra kicks into something jazzy and bluesy and slow.

Bucky has never danced like this before and he has a moment of panic, where he wants to back out, but Steve is holding him firmly and he is leading, so all Bucky has to do is follow.

The motion is relaxing, waltzing away through the crowd, while Bucky focuses on keeping up and tries not to think too hard about the shift of the plug inside him. This is romantic, with the lights down low, the gentle music, and Steve so close. He's warm and he smells incredible and Bucky slips into a calm fuzzy mindset as Steve leads him around the room.

It feels like they're alone, and Bucky sighs and lays his head on Steve's shoulder, enjoying the spell while it lasts.

Eventually, the song ends, and Bucky blinks back to life feeling too-warm and aroused, his skin prickling. "It's time to sit down for dinner," Steve murmurs in his ear. "We'll be sitting with Tony, Nat, and Sam. Don't let them intimidate you, but I also made sure you're next to Pepper. She'll take care of you when someone else engages me for conversation."

"Sounds good," mumbles Bucky, head a little spinny. "Thanks for dancing with me."

Steve gives him a sly look. "You don't regret it?"

"My asshole does, but I don't."

Steve barks a startled laugh, brushing a soft kiss to Bucky’s cheek. "You are sweet as ever."

Bucky blushes and lets Steve guide him to their table.

Sitting presents a new challenge, and Steve pulls out his chair for him, which just adds to the swoop of feeling as he settles down. Pepper sits to his left, Steve to his right. He’s met Pepper once but he’s somehow not surprised she remembers him on sight. She seems like the sort of person who is good with names and faces.

"Bucky, how lovely to see you," she says. "I know I met you as James before but since Steve has been introducing you here as Bucky, I guessed it was what you preferred?"

He nods quickly. "Yes, thank you. It’s good to see you too."

She smiles at him. "Are you having fun? I know these things are stuffy but they’re for a good cause."

"Yes, Steve danced with me just now." He still feels like he’s spinning, honestly. "And I’ve met so many people. The food has been delicious. I’m excited for dinner."

"Good." She picks up her glass of wine after the server fills it wordlessly and leans in to whisper, "I’m glad you’re here with Steve. I think he’s having more fun than he has in years. Every time he looks at you he lights up."

Oh god. Bucky feels dizzy from that, remembering Steve’s assurances earlier. Steve is picturing him in silk and lace with every glance.

"What are you two gossiping about?" asks Tony. "No fair keeping it to yourself. Was it Fury? Did he finally reveal that he is, in fact, a secret furry?"

Bucky coughs in surprise to hear the word "furry" out of Tony Stark’s mouth, but Pepper just waves a hand at him. "Don’t be ridiculous. It’s none of your business."

"Everything is my business," Tony says. He's at least taken his sunglasses off and tucked them into his front pocket, but that means that Bucky has no illusions about the laser stare Tony is now targeting him with. "Bucky bear here is absolutely my business, because he's Steve's business."

Bucky mouths the words 'Bucky bear' to himself, stunned, while Pepper huffs and puts a hand on his arm. "Don't let Tony put you off. He does it on purpose. He's very protective."

"Which is ridiculous," chimes in Steve. "Tony, quit staring at him like you want to dissect him."

"I'd never, he's much too pretty," says Tony. "I don't need to cut him open to see inside him, anyway."

"Tony!" cries Pepper.

"He thinks he's funny," Steve says to Bucky. "But really he's just playing into the eccentric stereotype. Don't buy it for a second."

Tony puts a hand to his chest, eyebrows creeping up high. "Moi?"

Bucky stifles incredulous laughter, but he's saved from comment by the first course coming around, which is lobster bisque. It's the fanciest fucking soup Bucky's ever had. It's also incredible, buttery and rich and creamy, with enormous chunks of actual lobster on top. It's followed immediately by a small salad and caviar on little tiny pancakes, and Bucky feels a bit like he's died and gone to heaven.

"Enjoying yourself?" Steve asks him lowly, as Bucky industriously scoops up the very last vestiges of caviar off his plate with a scrap of freshly baked brioche that's been served alongside the salad. There's also french butter. What makes it french? Bucky doesn't know, but it's amazing and he wants to bathe in it.

"This is the best thing I've ever eaten," Bucky whispers, because he doesn't want anyone to catch him acting poor and uncultured.

"I am clearly not taking you out enough," says Steve, instead of commenting on Bucky's failings (or...whatever it means to grow up in foster care without a cent to his name). "This is good but you deserve a real meal at a private table where Tony isn't grilling you."

"Can you stand to keep me away from the house long enough to go to a restaurant? I think I remember you were going to take me to one when we first were getting to know each other," says Bucky, feeling floaty and good from delicious food and ever flowing wine and champagne.

"I think I can stand it if I know you're squirming in your seat the whole time," says Steve darkly. "Besides, I haven't kept you cooped up the whole time. We'll just need to make sure we're planning appropriately for more outings."

Bucky blushes and looks away, trying to busy himself with buttering another piece of bread. He can definitely still feel the plug inside him, insistently pressed to all his most sensitive spots. He's saved from figuring out what to even say when the main course arrives. Expertly roasted lamb smothered in cherry balsamic glaze with shallots and garlic and a side of mashed sweet potato. It's heavenly. It's almost enough to make him forget about the plug in his ass, to be honest.

Dessert is the absolute richest chocolate cake Bucky has ever had with honest-to-god gold foil on the icing and the most perfect, giant strawberries on top. He's going to explode, but he eats all of it.

Steve leans over at one point and says, "You're not going to even be able to stay awake to get your reward, are you?"

"S'okay, I'll sleep, you can do all the work," he sighs.

Steve lets out a little noise right next to his ear that sounds like an honest to god growl. Bucky smirks and shivers a little, feeling light and floaty. "You little brat," murmurs Steve. "When do you ever do any work?"

"Listen, I'm spoiled, now," Bucky explains. "You dressed me up like I'm a real boy, brought me to a rich people party, and fed me incredible food, and now I'll want caviar for breakfast every single day."

"We'll see," hums Steve, brushing his fingers light over Bucky's hair. "We're going to leave in about half an hour. Closing remarks are in a couple of minutes. Think you can stay awake that long?"

"Maybe," says Bucky, shrugging. "But we both know you like carrying me around, anyway."

Bucky doesn't really know what's gotten into him; he feels fizzy and bubbly inside, like a glass of champagne, and Steve seems to be indulging it, smiling warmly and shaking his head as someone up front at the podium begins to speak. Under the table, though, Steve's hand creeps up his thigh, Bucky biting his lip and trying not to squirm as Steve's fingers brush over Bucky's cock through his pants.

"I'm going to bend you over the end of the bed," Steve says against his ear, in the barest whisper. "Tug the plug out and just slide right into your greedy hole. And if you're a very good girl for me, babydoll, if you're awake and alert and screaming, I'll suck your pretty little cock right through the silk after I'm done."

Bucky clamps his jaw closed so tightly, he hears it creak. Swallowing, he nods his head, reaching for the coffee that was just served. He makes the mistake of meeting Natasha's eyes when he does, and blushes all over again at the knowing smirk on her lips before she turns away to face the speaker.

Bucky honestly would have completely missed the speech entirely if it didn't suddenly hold a great deal of interest.

"Thanks to the substantial donations of Captain Rogers, Stark Industries, and other donors gathered here tonight, The Sarah Rogers Pediatric Wing of the Brooklyn Hospital will begin construction this fall. It will provide a sorely needed resource to low income families, and will serve as a model in the care of children across the nation. Captain Rogers asked for me to express his deepest gratitude for your support of this project, a dream he has had to honor his mother, a pediatric nurse for twenty years before she passed away in 2001."

This...entire gala was about Steve. Well, Steve's mother. Who is dead. This whole time he never thought to even find out what the benefit was for. He just...thought it was like anything else rich people gather to throw money at. His gaze snaps to Steve, who is smiling and nodding quietly to polite applause.

Bucky doesn't hear the rest, too busy sipping on his coffee and trying to control the buzzing in his head. Steve chose to bring him to this, to dress him up how Steve wanted, to have Bucky on his arm, to dance with him and introduce him.

Bucky doesn't know what that means.

"Time to go, honey," Steve says softly into Bucky's ear, and Bucky startles back to life. He has no idea how long he's been sitting here staring into nothing. The speaker has disappeared, and the music is back on; people have dispersed back to the dance floor, including Tony and Pepper. Natasha and Sam are nowhere to be seen.

Steve and Bucky are the only two people left at this table. Bucky blinks at his coffee cup; he drank it all, apparently. He'll be wired now.

"Yeah," says Bucky, looking over at Steve and nodding jerkily. "Okay. Yeah."

Steve gives him a smile and gets up, taking Bucky's hand to help him, and then he crowds Bucky close, arm around his waist as they head for the exit. It's not a particularly quick process; Steve is stopped every step of the way, murmuring thanks yous, good byes, nice to see yous, until finally they're on the curb, and Steve is handing his ticket to the valet.

The cool air outside seems to blow all the cobwebs out of Bucky's head. Steve wanted to look good at this gala for his late mother. It's just what he's always told Bucky; he's arm candy. There's nothing weird about this, it fits with everything Steve has told him.

Still. It was...nice. For everyone to think they were on a date. To dance, and meet Steve's coworkers and friends, and be spoiled and teased and engaged with like he is Steve's boyfriend.

"Bucky?"

"Coming," says Bucky, blinking again, letting Steve help him into the car.

"Did you have fun?" asks Steve, as they cut across Manhattan toward the penthouse. It's not far, really.

"Yes, it was a beautiful night." Bucky turns toward Steve, wondering if he should say something about his mother, about what the gala was for. "It's...really good that you got enough donations for the hospital."

Steve tilts his head in acknowledgement, glancing at Bucky before returning his attention to the road. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you ahead of time. I thought it might contribute to your nerves if you knew."

"No, that's okay. I get it. I'm just happy for you. Did you have a good night?"

"Yes, I did," says Steve, almost sounding surprised to be saying so. "But I'll be having an even better night as soon as I get you out of that tux. You were very charming tonight, Buck."

"I just wanted to make you proud," he admits with a shiver, feeling the tight press of plug, the heavy weight of his cock against the silk.

"You did," says Steve, as if it's simple and easy to grant that kind of compliment. He takes one hand off the steering wheel to slide up the inside of Bucky's thigh. "And now I get to fuck your sweet little ass. You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

Bucky's eyes flutter. "Yeah, I—I'll be whatever you want."

Steve chuckles, giving Bucky's cock a rough little squeeze, reinforcing Bucky's assumption. He's a toy, stress relief for Steve. He's here to look good for him, be whatever he wants. Bucky's just fortunate he likes what Steve does, that he's a good match.

They pull into the underground garage and make it quickly into Steve's private elevator. "JARVIS, home please."

"Of course, welcome back, sirs," says JARVIS.

Steve pulls Bucky close, his hand tangling in his hair, hand palming Bucky's ass to hold him near. "When we get inside, you'll go straight to the bedroom, brush your teeth, wash your face if you want, take off your suit, leave the lingerie, and then bend yourself over my bed and wait for me."

"Okay," Bucky says, breathless and nodding. He's ready. He's so ready.

The second the doors open, Steve releases him, and Bucky heads for the bedroom. He has no idea what Steve is going to do, probably just walk slowly to the bedroom while he removes his bowtie, but it doesn't matter.

In the bathroom, Bucky does as he's told, making an executive decision to also take a piss and wash his hands before he brushes his teeth and washes his face. The tux comes off next, and he folds it up and sets it on the big vanity, before turning to check himself in the mirror.

God. From the waist up, he looks pretty normal, if a little mussed and desperate for sex. But then his gaze slides down, and he squirms a little, seeing himself. There's a little wet patch on the front of the panties.

Okay. Steve is waiting. Hopefully he hasn't taken too long. When he goes out, though, Steve isn't there yet, so he walks to the bed and bends himself over it, ass up, face down, cheeks flaming.

From the living room, Bucky hears Steve speaking to JARVIS. "Have thank you cards made for all the donors. I'll sign them at work next week. And a gift basket, for Tony and Pepper. Email me a list of the options, I'll pick one out. That's all for tonight. Good night, JARVIS."

"Good night, captain."

Footsteps. Finally.

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, breathing steadily, clenching around the plug.

"Well, isn't that a pretty sight," murmurs Steve. Bucky feels him approach, standing over him at the end of the bed. Steve's hand cups Bucky's ass cheek, fondling shamelessly. Squeezing possessively. "Look at you, all ready for me."

Bucky grunts, his cock thickening in the tight confines of the panties. "Yours," he whispers, drunk on the sensation.

Steve's breath stutters a little. "Yeah. So proud of you."

Bucky moans, a sweep of desire so strong he’s half afraid he might come in his panties, right here and now. "Steve," he gasps, just shy of begging.

"I know," groans Steve, apparently just as affected as Bucky. Steve’s fingertips curl under the top of his panties and tugs them down in a hurry. He taps hard on the base of the plug, eliciting a grunt from Bucky before he pulls it free with a few twists that make Bucky gasp. "Yeah, I know, you need to be filled up, such a sweet girl. You need my cock don’t you?"

"Yes!" cries Bucky, face burning as he presses his cheek to the bed. He has to bite his lip to keep from adding ‘please’.

Steve’s hands leave his ass and Bucky hears the hurried clack of a belt and zipper, Steve’s pants falling around his ankles, the secondary fsssk of fabric sliding down as his boxers join the floor. Then the slick sounds of lube, the crinkle of a condom wrapper. "Oh god," says Bucky, mind messy with need. It's taking so long. "I’m yours, just want to be yours."

"Yeah, yeah," hisses Steve, the blunt head of his cock pressed to Bucky’s hole, pressing and pressing until with a mutual gasp, Steve pushes in, filling him up.

Sex should always be like this, Bucky thinks muzzily. Steve just...bending him over and fucking right into him. He needs it, needs Steve, needs to feel open and raw and filled like this. He can't believe he waited so long, but he knows he was waiting for Steve because this wouldn't be right with anyone else.

Steve's big hands curl around Bucky's hips, pinning him down, and then Steve pulls out and shoves back in, hard and deep, and Bucky muffles his moan in the bedsheets. He can't really move, can't do anything but spread his legs just a little more to make room, but it's exactly what they both want, because Steve is doing the work for them, just like Bucky said. Holding Bucky down and drilling into him with the kind of abandon Steve doesn't usually exhibit; he tends to be more restrained, but apparently they've both hit their limit on restraint, today.

Steve is talking, too, punched out words that coincide with his brutal thrusts, "Baby girl, you take it so good, god, you're so gorgeous like this, such a good girl for me, so pretty tonight—" Rough, low words spilling out of him like he's not even aware he's talking or that Bucky can hear him.

All it does is rev Bucky up, tension building as arousal grows and crashes through him. "Love it," pants Bucky, nodding, "Love being good for you, being pretty for you, want you to be happy."

Steve groans, his mouth wet and hot as it slides across Bucky's skin, sucking aimlessly. "You do, you're so good, baby. Such a—a pretty—fuck, Bucky, sweetheart—" Steve breaks off with a grunt, pushing deep and rocking there, hips pressing rhythmically as he rides out his orgasm.

Bucky shivers as Steve comes, aching with need but so genuinely happy to have given this to Steve, to be this for Steve. His hand reaches up and behind him, clutching at Steve, his shoulder, his neck. "Steve, s'good, you're so good."

Steve is more out of it than Bucky has ever experienced with him before, shuddering with his orgasm. It takes him a long time to come back to himself, kissing Bucky's shoulder and wrapping his hand around Bucky's hand, kissing his palm. Finally, he sighs and reaches down to pull out, taking care of the condom as he does. Bucky stays where he is, ass clenching around emptiness, a whine building in his chest.

"Shh, you're fine, I've got you," murmurs Steve, his calmness returned now that he's finished. He comes back to Bucky and, easy as anything, scoops him up into his arms.
God, Bucky loves that he can do that. Just...effortlessly lift him up into his arms and move him like he doesn't weigh more than a cat.

Steve gets him laid out on his back on the pillows and then crawls up between Bucky's legs, a firm push of his broad shoulders, hands sliding up Bucky's calves. He makes good on his promise, hot mouth descending on Bucky's throbbing cock, swallowing him down sloppy and eager.

It's nothing like how Steve has ever made him come before. Steve is making almost as much noise as Bucky is, clutching at Bucky and sucking him down, looking completely euphoric.

He looks like Bucky thinks he feels when Steve completely takes him apart and wrecks him; to be fair, Steve is doing that right now but he's similarly wrecked, like this entire night just chipped away at them both until they shattered into pieces all over each other.

"Steve," moans Bucky, grabbing Steve's hair, mindless with pleasure and need, tugging helplessly as he arches and cries out. "Oh, god!"

He comes, pulsing messily into Steve's mouth as he swallows him down. Everything feels hazy, spinning out like he's looking through a kaleidoscope. He tugs at Steve's hair again, needing him, needing to kiss him and hold onto him.

And Steve listens, crawls up his body after sucking the last of his orgasm out. He kisses Bucky's mouth with eagerness, hungry in the way he devours him, tasting of Bucky's come. He lets Bucky wrap himself around Steve, legs hooking around his hips, arms wrapped around Steve's neck, just holding him close. Steve's hands roam all over his sides, up to his hair, wherever he can touch, and their softening cocks slide together.

Bucky is in heaven.

They kiss for ages, both desperate for the closeness but also not amping up towards anything more. It's just them, together, and it feels so good Bucky's eyes prickle.

Eventually, Steve slows them down, breaking from Bucky's mouth to kiss his jaw and ear. But he doesn't mutter more filth or promises. He just keeps Bucky close and pinned beneath him.

Bucky falls asleep like that, Steve warm and heavy on top of him, and he sleeps and sleeps the whole night through, until the sunlight streaming in finally wakes him up.

Steve is still asleep. Bucky thinks this is maybe the first time he's woken up before him.

He turns over a little to stare at him, examining the soft brush of long lashes against his cheek, the plump pout of his lips, his soft hair messy over his forehead. He doesn't look.... like Steve the rich businessman. He just looks like Steve, normal guy, innocent and slack in sleep, and Bucky's heart squeezes up tight in that weird way he just doesn't want to think about right now.

Last night was amazing. Bucky sighs. It went so much better than Bucky thought it might. It went like a real date. Only it wasn't, he needs to stop thinking of it like a date, he can't... He can't do that.

"Hey, gorgeous," rumbles Steve next to him, and Bucky sucks in a breath, looking back down at Steve and smiling helplessly at his stupid beautiful face.

"Hey," mumbles Bucky.

Steve grins sleepily, pulling Bucky in close and running a hand up his hip to cup his ass. "What do you say I make you some pancakes?"

"Make?" echoes Bucky, raising his eyebrows. "You cook?"

Steve huffs, tweaking Bucky's ass. "Yes, smartass. I didn't grow up in a penthouse," he sighs. And then after a pause he adds, "I grew up in a tiny little two bedroom in Red Hook, just me and my ma. My dad was in the army, died when I was a baby. And she raised me all on her own, worked overnights at the hospital while I'd stay with the neighbor. When I got old enough, I started staying on my own, cookin' dinner for me and her before she went to work, make breakfast in the morning so she could eat before she went to bed."

Bucky's breath catches. Steve's never volunteered this much information about himself before, not ever. "You were...19 when she died?"

"Yeah." He's not quite meeting Bucky's eyes now, staring at his hair as he combs his fingers through it. "I was at West Point when it happened. She had a brain aneurysm, out of nowhere. She died in her sleep at home."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to say goodbye."

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, as if startled he's been discussing this at all. "Yeah, well, it was a long time ago now, and she was proud of me, I think. I was on scholarship and trying to be like Dad. You lost your parents young too, didn't you?"

"Oh," says Bucky. "Um, yeah. Car crash, when I was 4. We were all in the car together. I didn't get a scratch on me, the only one. Went right into foster care."

"No other family?" asks Steve, frowning.

"No one I could go to." Bucky shakes his head. "My file with child protective services said something about a grandma that had dementia. She was dead by the time I was old enough to look."

Steve is quiet again and then he leans in and presses a kiss to Bucky's mouth, soft and chaste. "Sorry I dragged the mood down. How about blueberry pancakes? And bacon?"

Bucky nods. "Yeah, that sounds good."

The whole day is good.

Steve does make blueberry pancakes and bacon, while Bucky makes coffee, and they eat on the couch watching documentaries in their pajamas. Steve, for once, doesn't seem to have any appointments, no plans at all, no work. He also doesn't seem inclined to shower, get dressed, or go to the gym, or any of the things he usually still does on the weekends.

They nap lazily, spend a lot of time making out, and then read in bed until they both just... go to sleep. There are no games, no sex, just taking it easy.

Getting up on Monday to Steve already at work is a rude awakening, leaving Bucky sullen and a little depressed. The weekend had been so different and he still doesn't know what to make of it.

But now everything is back to normal and Bucky has his sister's email address waiting for him.

He feels a little guilty. After such an emotional Friday, he'd put it all out of his mind to focus on Steve. He hadn't...forgotten, exactly, he could never forget, but he succeeded in turning his attention to Steve instead of fretting about what he was going to do next.

Pulling his computer onto his lap, Bucky spends almost two hours trying to write an email that conveys what he wants to tell Becca. It's almost an essay. When he's finished, he stares at it, incredulous, and deletes the whole thing. He shouldn't be saying any of this. That's for when they meet.

Instead, he writes:

Ms. Proctor,

Hi there. My name is James Buchanan Barnes (Bucky for short). I was born March 10, 1995. Please excuse the suddenness of this email, I just don't know how else to introduce myself, but I found out you have the same birthday as me and that you were adopted as a kid after your (our?) parents died in a car accident.

I've been hoping to find my twin sister. I think that might be you. If you're interested in meeting up and talking some more, please send me a message back and we can set something up.

Hope you're well, and hope to hear from you soon.

Regards,
Bucky

By the time he's done, it's nearly lunch and he's starving. He hasn't eaten anything all day and so he makes himself close his laptop and get up. The kitchen provides coffee that just needs to be heated up and what looks like muffins that were freshly delivered this morning. He takes a banana nut muffin and picks up an apple and eats them both while sitting at the island and sipping at his coffee.

Everything is fine. No matter what Rebecca says, he's going to be okay.

When he finishes, he takes a shower and gets dressed and finally allows himself to check his email on his phone.

There's a response that's only a few minutes old.

Bucky -

I've been staring at your email since it arrived, shocked and overjoyed and scared and excited and nervous all at once. There are some days I was sure I dreamed you. My adoptive parents said there was no other little kid admitted for a car crash the night I was, no one declared dead but my birth parents. I tried to find you but a house fire destroyed my adoption records when I was 9 and the county had no record that I existed. I didn't even know what my last name was.

Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this, but I honestly don't know what else TO say. I want to meet you. Today, tomorrow, as soon as you can. Wherever it is, name the day and time and I'll be there.

You can email back or call if you want: 555-555-5555

Please let me know as soon as you can. I don't think I'll be able to concentrate on a single damn thing until I know where you've been and how you are.

- Becca

Bucky doesn't breathe as he reads, and when he reaches the end he covers his eyes with his hands and just sits there, trembling, until he can get himself under control.

He doesn't think he has the strength to call, he has no idea what he'll do if he hears Becca's voice, so he types out another message.

Becca,

I can meet you today. I'm not far from NYU — I should have said, I'm local, in NYC. Give me an address and I'll leave now.

He's already grabbing his keys and wallet, juggling his stuff as he keeps an eye on his email for—

A new message, with directions, an address. A place to meet Becca. Bucky's in the elevator within a minute, shrugging on his coat and checking his phone for any additional emails. Should he take the subway? Call a Lyft? He just—wants to get there as fast as possible. It's not far from here.

Hell, he'd fucking run to NYU if he had to.

In the end, he catches the subway, jittering on the train for twenty minutes, reflexively checking his emails in case Becca sends anything else.

They're so close. They've been in the same city the whole time, so near, and they both knew. She remembered him, too, both half-convinced they'd dreamed the other.

When he gets off the subway, he has to work hard not to just break into a dead run. He texts Becca this time.

Bucky: hi it's bucky i just got off the train
Bucky: walking now
Bucky: the starbucks?
Becca: table by the window

Bucky sees her through the window just as she looks up, their eyes locking, and Bucky makes an involuntary sounds like he's just been punched in the gut.

In the coffee shop, Becca shoots up from the table, pushes through the crowd to run outside to him, and there's no question, none at all, looking at her standing on the sidewalk, grey-blue eyes wide and rapidly filling with tears.

They look nearly identical, same height, same color hair...their eyes, their noses, their soft chins and pink lips.

He could be looking in some kind of funhouse mirror that changes him in only subtle ways. Becca throws her arms around him and they cling to each other so hard, Bucky's bones ache, and he doesn't care. He has his sister back, he has Becca.

After long moments, they finally step back enough just to look at each other again, still clinging to each other's arms like they might disappear. "I can't believe it's really you."

Tears are streaming down Becca's face. She shakes her head. "I know! I know. I feel like I'm gonna wake up in a psych ward and they're going to tell me this was all some kind of mental break from reality."

"Fuck, I hope not,” chokes Bucky, sniffling. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, uncaring. “I'm so glad to see you, Becca. I missed you every day! I thought you weren't real sometimes too, but I would remember things. Or—or the idea of things, I don't know."

"I know, me too.” Becca laughs shakily. “I—Bucky, what happened, how did everything get so messed up?"

Bucky shakes his head helplessly. "I don't know. I wasn't hurt in the crash, for some reason. I guess...the way we were hit or where I was sitting. I went into foster care the same night. Sometimes, I thought maybe you died the same time as mom and dad but I thought at least there'd be a death certificate? But I couldn't find anything."

"Wait, you were never adopted? You...were in foster care the whole time?" Becca looks gobsmacked.

Bucky shrugs. "Can we go somewhere? Quiet? To talk."

Becca squeezes his forearms and says, "Of course. Yeah, let's go to my place. I have a roommate, but she's not going to be home."

Becca's place is a small apartment about five minutes walk from where they are, housing offered for the grad students because that's what Becca is. She's studying biology.

It's a small place consisting of a bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and two bedrooms. There's no living space to speak of, so Becca sits him at the kitchen table and makes them tea.

"I was in foster care until I was eighteen," says Bucky, putting both hands around the mug and frowning down at it. "I tried to figure out how to leave earlier but by the time I understood it, I was almost eighteen anyway. I got a shitty job and rented a room in some lady's house and it wasn't so bad. I've just been working different jobs."

"Bucky," breathes Becca, looking heartbroken. "Oh my god. I don't get it. Why would this happen?" She shakes her head, stunned. "If anyone had known..."

"We were too small for anyone to listen to us, too traumatized," says Bucky, his eyes prickling. "I don’t...have a lot of memories from that time, when it first happened. But my file says that I regressed developmentally from the trauma. I stopped talking, I sucked my thumb, I cried a lot. I didn’t really catch back up until first or second grade. By then the damage was done, I guess."

Becca has tears coming down her cheeks and she wipes at them. "I was in the hospital for almost ten months, my kidneys were damaged from blood loss and a transfusion reaction after the accident and I had to get dialysis every day until they recovered. Then physical therapy and classes to help me relearn skills I lost from being in the hospital so long. That’s who adopted me, one of the doctors. I had a lot of health issues and she was there with me from almost the beginning, her and her husband. He’s a pharmacist. They applied to be foster parents and then...they adopted me. They’re good people. I call them mom and dad because they raised me but they never made me pretend my birth parents weren’t real.” She pauses, drawing in a trembling breath. “I wish you could have been with me."

Bucky can't help it, hearing how Becca almost died, he starts to cry—sets the mug down and puts his hands over his face, shuddering. Becca pushes her chair away from the table and rises and a second later her arms are around him. She's crying, too, and they both just sit there and sob.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I'm sorry for...all of that."

"Me too," she whispers. "I'm so glad you found me. I still can't believe it."

He sniffles and nods, and she settles back into her chair, wiping her eyes. "How are you doing? Do you have a job? Where do you live?"

Bucky freezes. In his rush to get here, his disbelief and joy, he hadn't even considered explaining his current situation to Becca. Oh, god.

"I'm... Uh." He bites his lip, cheeks heating up. "I'm living with a guy," he admits. "I was working at Starbucks, but I quit when I moved in. I'm going to finally go to college next year. I just have to... Um." Jesus, could he have phrased it any worse?

She frowns a bit, looking at him. "Bucky, you have to know if something is going on with this guy you can tell me. I’ll help, I don’t care. I would never judge you. You can stay with me if you need."

Bucky shakes his head quickly. "It’s not like that. I... He’s good. He’s great. But it’s not, uh, love or anything. He’s not my boyfriend."

Becca looks very confused and concerned. "But you have to wait to start college?"

"He’s going to pay for it," he confesses, looking away from her. "He’s taking care of me now. He likes...doing things, like that."

God, he’s going to burn up into ash and blow away. Becca is staring at him in stunned silence. Finally, she clears her throat and pulls him in for another hug. "I said I wouldn’t judge and I mean it. If...this situation is what you want and you feel safe then it’s your choice. But just know...you don’t have to choose it, if you don’t want."

Bucky hugs her back, clinging a little. "I’m happy there, I swear. But if that changes, I’ll think about what you said."

"Okay," says Becca quietly. She kisses his hair, squeezes him again, and sits back down, her eyes rapt on him like she can't look away. "I know that you've been alone, and we only just found each other, only just met, really, but it's like I had a piece missing that I just got back. I want to be here for you, now, I really want to catch up on everything."

"Me too," says Bucky. "I want that. I want to learn everything, I want to just...get to know you, spend time together. I've been..."

Lonely. He was so lonely, before. And he's been busy, with Steve, has been drinking in his attention, but this is different. This is his family, Becca, this belongs to him, and him alone.

"I didn't have anyone," he says shakily. "I was pretty lonely. Maybe we can...get together, once a week. Talk."

"Yeah," she says immediately. "I’d love that. Mondays are usually pretty good for me. Sometimes weekends."

"Weekdays are better. Steve and I...we spend weekends and most evenings together." He blushes again but pushes on. "Mondays should be good but we can work with your schedule."

Becca nods, and then they spend the next three hours together, the time flying. Bucky doesn’t even realize what time it is until Becca looks up at the clock and says, "Oh, it’s almost five. My roommate will be home soon. You can meet her."

"Oh my god!" gasps Bucky. "Fuck, I gotta get home. I didn’t realize how late it was! But... you have my email and my phone number now. We’ll figure out next week. I’m sorry, I have to get going." He bites his tongue on saying, ‘Steve expects me to be home when he gets off work’. He doesn’t think that would go over well.

"Okay, well. Maybe next time," she says with a small smile, and gets up to give him a hug goodbye. "I love you, okay? I know we only just met again but I always have. I am so glad to have you back in my life."

"I love you, too," he whispers. "See you soon."

Then he walks out the door and heads down to the street.

Warily, he checks his phone.

There is a single unread message.

Steve: JARVIS has informed me that you left without permission. He refuses to tell me where you went or what you’re doing, only assuring me you are safe. I’m sure you remember leaving without permission violates the terms of our contract. We’ll discuss this when you return.

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

Morning at the office is another day where his routine feels comforting rather than draining, a bounce to his step as he thinks of the weekend.

America greets him with a shining smile and congratulates him on the success of the gala. "All the gossip blogs are gushing with praise and your foundation is mentioned just under the fold of the Post. There's a whole article about the new hospital wing and a glowing write up about your mother and your background. It's the most complimentary thing they've ever written, I'm sure."

Steve snorts. The gossip columns had not been kind in the slightest, to him or Peggy, during the divorce. He's lucky for his friends' loyalty and support through it all. "Anything about my date?"

America shakes her head. "Surprisingly, no. They have a picture of you looking very sharp on the red carpet, but Mr. Barnes is just out of frame." She shrugs. "Maybe that lawsuit taught them a lesson."

"I'm sure it won't last," he says, shaking his head. "But thank you, America. Did you have fun at the gala? I barely saw you. I hope you weren't working too hard."

"There was a small disaster with catering, but once that was handled, I spent the night letting Wanda bring me a new glass of champagne every time I so much as took a sip from the last." She gets a sly look on her face and says, "Saw you on the dancefloor."

Steve's cheeks warm without his permission. "I couldn't avoid dancing at my own party, could I?"

"Uh huh, sure," she agrees. "By the way, Sam asked for you to swing by his office when you got in."

"Any other meetings this morning?"

"A few, but nothing until ten, and Tony wants to meet to go over some prototypes, but word is he hasn't gotten back from Malibu yet."

"When the hell did he go to Malibu?"

"Sometime between your gala and this morning? I'm not paid enough to keep track of anyone but you, let alone Tony Stark."

Steve laughs. "Fair enough. If he manages to show up, let me know."

"You got it, Cap," she says with a mock salute and a grin. "Now go see Sam before he accuses me of hiding you."

"Yes, ma'am," says Steve, shedding his coat and handing it over to her before he heads down the hall to Sam's office.

He waves to Pietro, who has headphones on and looks largely unconcerned with Steve walking past his desk and straight into Sam's office.

Sam is wearing a headset and holds up a finger before tapping it meaningfully.

Steve rolls his eyes and plops down on Sam's couch to wait for him to be done with his call. He catches a couple of snippets of Cantonese, something about Stark software. He must be speaking to Ms. Lee, who heads up XM Corp in Hong Kong.

Abruptly, Sam switches to English. "Jubilee, come on. What's really the issue here? Get me off speakerphone and let's talk about this. I can be in Hong Kong by start of business tomorrow."

Steve lifts an eyebrow. XM Corp is one of their biggest accounts.

Sam lets out a startled laugh and then says, "Yes, I know, I know. Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow? Yeah, I'll book a flight as soon as we hang up. I know Hammer's tech looks like a good deal right now, but you'll lose more money than you'll save when your whole operation crashes from the bugs. Yeah, I'll bring the data, don't you worry. Tomorrow. Sleep well. Yeah, thanks, looking forward to it."

Tapping a button on the headset, he takes it off and tosses it onto his desk. "Christ, Hammer's getting desperate."

"When isn't he?" sighs Steve.

"I think he can see the sharks circling now. We should brace ourselves," says Sam, walking past and going to the door. He leans out. "Hey, Pietro, get me on the next flight to Hong Kong and send an email to Riley. Have him call me as soon as he's not in a cockpit."

"Yeah, sure," mumbles Pietro.

"Well don't act so enthusiastic." Sam closes the door again and walks back over to Steve, sitting in the armchair across from him. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Steve waves him off. "No big deal. What'd you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, I was going to see if you and Bucky wanted to join me and Riley for dinner. Got an invite to the grand opening of that new Aarón Sanchez restaurant uptown tonight. I don't think I'm gonna make it now," he says. "But I could get you on the list instead if you still want to go."

Steve hesitates. Taking Bucky to something like that would definitely get his name in the gossip rags, but maybe that wouldn't be all bad. And he does like the idea of taking him out, especially after he seemed to enjoy the gala so much. "Yeah, sure. That'd be appreciated, Sam. Sorry you two won't be joining us, though. I missed seeing your better half at the gala."

"Yeah, he was just wrapping up in DC. He was sorry he couldn't make it, too. But we should figure out another night. He's just as curious as me about your new guy." Sam grins at him. "He wants to know what college campus you picked him up from. You cruising the NYU hotspots lately? Or is he even old enough to go to the bar?"

"He's almost twenty-four, thanks," mutters Steve. "He's not that young."

"Thirteen years younger than you, buddy. Not that I'm judging. I'm happy for you, you know that. He seems nice," says Sam. "And...you certainly seem happier lately."

"You and Nat been talking?" Steve's not embarrassed, exactly. Bucky's a consenting adult and they've clicked very well together, but he is a considerable departure from Peggy, who is two years Steve’s senior, wealthy, successful, and a powerhouse of conviction and authority. She was one of his closest friends, once, and by extension friends with all of Steve's nearest and dearest, too. Her decision to return to England definitely saved them all from the awkwardness of their friends feeling as though they needed to choose sides. By default, Steve got custody of the New Yorkers in the divorce.

"Nat never tells anyone what she's thinking, so I'm not sure what I would have gotten from her if we had, but no, we have not. I have eyes. I'm just doing my due diligence. It's been two months since the divorce was finalized."

"Yeah, and? You know Peggy and I's relationship was over a long time before that."

"I know that. I'm just saying: I know you. You don't do things by halves. You never have."

"Are you telling me not to fall in love with my rebound?" asks Steve, torn between amusement and annoyance. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's really not, Sam. I'm fond of him. He's a good guy and we get along well, but it's not forever," says Steve. He likes Bucky. He really does, but he's in control of this situation and he's not interested in fairytales. Those end. This will too, but at least no one's pretending otherwise. "It will last as long as it lasts and that's fine."

Sam studies him a moment and Steve meets his gaze steadily. Finally, Sam nods. "Alright, then have fun at dinner tonight. And if it changes, know I don't think that would be the end of the world or anything. I just want you to mind that soft, ooey gooey center, big guy."

Steve huffs out a laugh. "Sure, I'll keep that in mind. Tell Riley I said hi. I have to go do actual work."

The rest of the day passes quickly, filled with tasks and decisions, meetings and whatever his lunch with Tony qualifies as. By the time four o'clock rolls around, he's ready for a nice evening with Bucky. Maybe he'll burn off some energy fucking his sweet boy's mouth and put some pretty decorations on his cock and nipples to keep him on edge through dinner.

It's going to be a good night.

When he gets home, he walks in the front door and heads straight for his office to put down his briefcase. He doesn't immediately see Bucky, but he probably didn't hear Steve come in. Sometimes he tucks himself into the library with his computer and his noise cancelling headphones and doesn't realize when Steve comes home early.

He heads that direction after he hangs up his coat and scarf and stops short when he finds it empty. "Bucky?"

No answer. That's...weird. He goes back by Bucky's room, the door open. Bucky's laptop is open on the bed. Huh. "Buck, you in the bathroom?"

Nothing.

Frowning now, Steve heads back toward the living room and kitchen, glancing around. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain Rogers?"

"Is Bucky at the gym?" Usually he asks first before he goes up there, jogging on one of the treadmills while it's too cold this February to go outside much, but maybe he figured he had standing permission at this point (he does, it's fine).

"No, sir. Mr. Barnes is not in the building."

"What?" Did he mishear JARVIS? Bucky never goes anywhere and he certainly wouldn't without permission.

"Mr. Barnes left the penthouse just past noon. He has not yet returned."

"What do you mean he left the penthouse? That was—that's four hours ago! Where did he go? Why didn't you tell me?" he asks. His stomach twists.

"He was not in danger, and due to my privacy protocols, it did not seem appropriate to inform you."

"It didn't seem appropriate to inform me? He is required by a legally binding contract to ask my permission to leave!" snaps Steve. Bucky left. Bucky left. Steve's mind is buzzing.

"I'm sorry you're upset, Captain, but as you know, my primary function is not security or legal in nature. Mr. Barnes's privacy was paramount in this situation. Again, I can assure you he is safe."

"And I'm telling you it's not paramount anymore! I want to know where he is." Everything was going so well. Why the hell did Bucky just leave? He knows that's against the rules. Did Steve misstep, going so easy on him the past weekend? Did Bucky think that because they had a couple of relaxed days the rules don't apply now?

Or did he just not want to be here anymore?

"Unfortunately, my protocols can only be overridden by Mr. Stark. Shall I contact him for you, sir?"

"No, JARVIS, I do not want you to contact Tony! Call Bucky, get him on the phone, now." As if Steve is going to explain any of this to Tony.

"Certainly, sir, I will attempt to contact him," says JARVIS. There's a brief pause and then, "Unfortunately, Mr. Barnes's phone seems not to have service at this time. Shall I try again?"

"No."

Steve is livid. He gets out his phone and composes an icy text to Bucky, then sends a message to America.

Steve: Please cancel our reservations. We won't be making it tonight.

He spends the next hour and half alternatively pacing and staring out the window at the city streets below, as if he can spot Bucky from fifteen floors up.

At 6 o'clock, Steve hears the elevator.

The doors pop open and Bucky slinks out, shoulders high with tension, eyes wide and wary, his mouth tight. He knows he's in trouble.

"Nice of you to show up," Steve says coldly.

"Sorry," says Bucky right away. "I lost track of time, I... I forgot. I'm sorry. I know I messed up."

"Where did you go?" asks Steve. "JARVIS wouldn't tell me."

"I...." Bucky hesitates, uncomfortable. "I had a...a family thing."

"A family thing," repeats Steve, staring at him. The most irritating part is that he has an intense urge to pull Bucky close and hug him, hold him because he's back and he's safe and he didn't walk out and never come back.

His anger is bright and burning, though, and so much easier to deal with than...any of that. "You told me your whole family was dead. Or was that a lie?"

The harsh words have their intended effect, Bucky flinching, his nose going red as he fights off tears. "That's not what I said! I said there was no one left for me to go to." His chin wobbles as he sticks it out stubbornly, his arms crossing defensively.

"Cut the shit, Bucky. I did have a very thorough background check completed on you prior to contracting your services. I know you don't have any family."

"Oh, well, I guess you must know my life better than me! Because of some background check! That would show you every detail, everything on record for me, huh?" snaps Bucky, suddenly mirroring Steve's anger. "No need to ever ask me, right? To listen to anything I have to say."

Something uneasy settles in Steve's stomach, the truth in those words uncomfortable. "It's not as if you go around asking me about my life!"

"How the hell could I? My mouth is usually filled with a gag or your cock, Steve. Or did you forget?"

"And you've seemed plenty happy with that!" snarls Steve. "Don't act like you've gotten the short end of the stick. You signed a contract. You knew what you were agreeing to, and I haven't seen any returns on the deposits to your bank account."

"I'm not complaining!" Bucky cries. "I get the rules! You pay me, so you own me, and that's all you want from me! Fine! But you're accusing me of lying and I'm not. You don't get to throw my dead parents in my face like you know everything about me just because you creeped all my files before you hired me!"

"You broke one of the only rules I gave you," Steve grits out, getting angrier with every tear that slips down Bucky's cheek. He wants to pick him up, hold him, comfort you, ask him what's going on, and he can't stand that desire right now. "You didn't even have to tell me where you were going, you just had to ask permission."

"I forgot!" yells Bucky, his voice cracking as it rises sharply. "I fucking forgot, because I'm a human being, not a fucking robot! You wanna terminate my contract for one fucking mistake, rather than just believe me when I'm telling you the truth? Fine!"

"I'm not—I don't want to…." Steve draws in a breath, forcing himself calm. "First of all, lower your voice. Stop screaming at me."

Bucky snaps his jaw shut, cheeks red, face flaming.

"I'm not terminating your contract," Steve says evenly. There's no reason to be angry here. This is not spilled coffee on a divorce decree. This isn’t a situation he has no control over. This is a sub breaking the rules and needing correction. "Unless, of course, you choose to do that. Do you?"

Bucky shuffles for a second, mulish, and then shakes his head, sniffling. "No."

Okay, good. That's good. Bucky doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay with Steve. "Then we've established you broke the rules, and the consequence of that, if you refuse to explain yourself to me, is an appropriate punishment."

Bucky scowls at him. "That's not fair!"

"Bucky, volume," he reminds him, taking a steadying breath. "How is it not fair? You broke a rule, didn't you?"

Bucky's jaw works. "Yes."

"And do you want to tell me where you were and why?" Steve asks.

Another stubborn glare. "No."

"Then you'll be punished, end of discussion." Steve doesn't exactly feel stellar about this, but falling into this dynamic, reestablishing the parameters of their relationship, has to be the right thing. Dominance and submission have always been so easy for them.

"Fine," says Bucky, the word clipped and forced out. He looks down, staring at the floor. "Should I strip down right here or can I take a shower and wash the subway off of me?"

"What you can do is keep your snotty mouth shut until you can control your attitude. You can shower and then go to my office. You don't need any clothes."

Steve doesn't want to do this in the bedroom, not where things have always been...different between them. And it's about time he introduce Bucky to the playroom anyway. It's a bit too much to throw a virgin into right away, but Bucky's been here a month.

Bucky doesn't say anything else, just marches to his room and slams the door behind him. That's fine. Steve will handle this. He'll punish Bucky, they'll move on.

He goes to his room and finally strips out of his suit, pulling on a comfortable pair of sweats. Then he goes to his office and pulls out the drawer he keeps the key in and opens what most people assume is a closet door. It's not.

He pads barefoot into the room with it's dark wood furniture and rich leather accents. He eyes the St. Andrew's Cross, considering.

Yeah, he'll put Bucky on that. No plug, no clamps, no cock rings or cages today. This will be a straightforward punishment. He's not going to gag Bucky, either. This is about Bucky's refusal to communicate. Maybe his tongue will loosen and whatever obstinate streak he's picked up will resolve with the reintroduction of some firm structure.

He wants his soft, sweet sub back.

Steve is perusing the floggers hanging on the wall when he hears footsteps and a soft gasp. He turns to see Bucky, naked and damp from his shower.

His eyes are wide, lips parted as he stares at the playroom, frozen in the doorway. "What the fuck," he finally whispers. "There's an entire room in here? A sex room? Is this a dungeon?"

"It's a playroom," Steve says flatly. "Come here."

Bucky licks his lips anxiously, shuffling across the room to Steve. "A playroom?"

Steve reaches out and grabs Bucky by the chin, tilting his head back. "Did I say you could keep mouthing off?"

"I just asked a question!" protests Bucky. Still defiant, then.

"I told you to ditch the attitude before you spoke again," Steve says. It comes out a lot more patient than he feels.

"It's not attitude," whines Bucky, squirming under Steve's tight grip, his gaze sliding sidelong. He can never hold eye contact for very long. "It's just my personality! That's what I mea—"

Letting go of Bucky's chin, Steve slaps him across the face.

Bucky makes a shocked sound, head jerking. He goes silent, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. As he raises his eyes up to Steve again, Steve sees he's gone pink again and tears are welling up.

"This is attitude," Steve says, firm and quiet. "Backtalk. You've started, and now you can't stop, which is why I'm going to help you. Say, 'thank you, Steve'."

That defiant jut to Bucky's jaw again, but after a moment, he mumbles, "Thank you, Steve," hoarse and low.

"Good." Steve steps out of the way and gestures. "Step up to the cross. Face first, wrists up."

Apprehensively, Bucky obeys. He steps right against it, belly pressed up to the padded intersection of the cross, arms up. Steve wraps the cuffs around his wrists, buckling him in efficiently. Then he kicks Bucky's legs apart, ducking down to buckle his ankles in, too.

Bucky is trembling slightly. It's a damn shame that the first time Steve has him in this room it's not for anything fun. Steve's not going to enjoy this any more than Bucky will. But taking care of a sub isn't just about fun and games. Sometimes there's discipline involved, and Bucky clearly needs it. Maybe taking him out to the gala was a mistake. Maybe it was too much too soon.

Steve just needs to ground him in reality again.

"You're going to get 10 lashes from the flogger. It's going to hurt but it's not more than you can take. I think it will help adjust that attitude you've picked up and get us back to baseline," he explains calmly, walking over to take the flogger off the wall and bring it back. It's soft leather. It shouldn't leave any marks or break the skin, but it will get the point across.

"Breathe, Bucky," he instructs, and when Bucky takes a breath and exhales, Steve lifts his arm and brings the fray of leather down across Bucky's shoulders in a controlled arc.

"Ah!" he cries out, jerking against the cross. It holds him firmly in place. Bucky's breathing picks up immediately, though.

"At the end of this, you're going to tell me thank you for taking the time and effort to correct your attitude."

Bucky lets out a pained grunt, and even behind him, Steve can tell he's gritting his teeth, pressing his lips together to try not to let out more noise. Bucky's never been one for self-restraint.

Steve lands a second stroke and Bucky finally lets out a sob. "This isn't FAIR!"

"We've discussed this," says Steve, trying to remain calm. He can’t back out now. Bucky broke the rules and Steve set a punishment. He lifts his arm and brings it down for a third time.

Bucky's crying shakes his voice, forcing out hitching breaths, quick and overwhelmed. "I d-don't want this," he chokes out. "I don't want to be p-punished for this!"

"No one ever wants a real punishment, Bucky. That's why it's a punishment," says Steve, trying to concentrate on the measure of each strike, ensuring it's not too much.

Four.

Bucky shouts, his arms jerking against the cross. "I don't deserve it!"

Steve grits his teeth, hating every second of this. But he has to. He has to...set boundaries and enforce them. Bucky broke the rules and refused to explain himself. Steve has to be firm about consequences. He’s in control, he sets the standards. They agreed. Steve decides. Steve knows Bucky can take this and Bucky's never shied away from pain. This is what he needs. Steve knows Bucky. He does. He can do this. He can make this choice for him.

Five.

"No!" wails Bucky, distress in every syllable, a sound Steve's never heard from him before, voice bordering on a scream. "No, stop! Stop, please, Steve, stop!"

Steve freezes, Bucky's agonized voice dragging sharp across his nerves. He drops the flogger, jumping at the clatter as it hits the floor.

"Captain," says JARVIS, the clear warning distant compared to Bucky's anguished cries.

"I know, JARVIS." He starts into motion again, swiftly undoing the buckles around Bucky's wrists and ankles, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

Bucky sags immediately, head down, choking on hysterical sobs. Worried he's going to fall, Steve pulls him away from the cross and tips him right into his arms, scooping him up and carrying him out of the playroom.

He goes straight to his bedroom, bringing Bucky to the bed and setting him down on it. Bucky is a mess, both hands over his face, crying. He's wracked with sobs, shuddering in Steve's arms, almost hyperventilating.

"Easy," soothes Steve, absolutely terrified inside. "Easy, easy, we're done, we're done, no more. You're okay, baby, you're okay. I'm sorry."

Bucky cries harshly, mumbling something incomprehensible. Steve hushes him, utterly staggered by how badly he fucked this up. Bucky sniffles miserably and manages some semblance of coherent speech, mumbling, "I can't, I can't! I'm sorry, I can't take it, please don't, it's not fair, I said I was sorry! I forgot!"

Wrapping Bucky up firmly in his arms, Steve rocks him in his lap, murmuring gently until Bucky starts to calm down.

After twenty minutes, Bucky's breaths go even, only hitching occasionally, and his tears seem to have stopped entirely. Steve feels like garbage. His stomach is sour, he's got a pounding headache from the rush of adrenaline, and the absolute worst surety that he was wrong, that he hurt Bucky, that Bucky would be well within his rights to break the contract and leave now.

Bucky would be well within his rights to do a lot of things.

Taking a breath to hold back his own wave of tears, he combs his fingers through Bucky's hair. "I'm so sorry," he repeats. "I shouldn't have punished you like that. I shouldn't have— I'm sorry."

"Why did you then?" croaks Bucky, blinking open bloodshot eyes to look at Steve. He's not pushing away yet, and for that Steve is beyond grateful.

Steve shakes his head. "I don't know. I thought—" I was losing you and I was desperate to fix it. "I just wanted things to be back to normal. I didn’t read you right. Usually I know what you need, what you trust me to give you."

Bucky closes his eyes, breathing raggedly, warm and limp on Steve's lap. He doesn't say anything, and Steve chews his lower lip, agonizing.

"I thought I had to reestablish boundaries for us both," Steve continues shakily. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't want to be punished for this," mumbles Bucky again. "I don't want...to feel this way, right now. That wasn't good, I couldn't s-stand it, I'm not... I can't do that."

"Okay," says Steve. "It's okay, you don't have to. I was wrong. I made a mistake."

"Can I..." Bucky swallows hard. "Are you going to kick me out?"

"No," says Steve, voice cracking. "No! I'm not going to kick you out."

"Then....can I go to my own room? I don't think I can do any of this right now. I'd like...to talk to someone else, please."

That cuts straight through Steve, and, wildly, he wants to say no, he wants to hold on tight and not let Bucky go. But he missed his opportunity to do that when he decided to let his hurt dictate the way this would go; to blur the lines so badly between play and...something else, something he never thought he was capable of.

He resists the urge to ask who Bucky is going to talk to and instead starts to let him go. "Okay, you can have whatever you need. I'll... I'll be here if you do want to talk later."

Bucky wipes at his face and pushes up, getting out of the bed. "Maybe...in the morning. Is that okay?"

"Yes, of course. Get some rest. I won't bother you unless JARVIS tells me you asked for me or...if you drop and JARVIS detects a change that you might be in danger. I don't want you to hurt." He runs a hand through his own hair, hating how anxious he feels. This whole situation has spiraled wildly out of control.

Bucky nods, though. "Okay," he says quietly. And then he walks out. Steve hears his door open and close and that's it. If he calls someone, he does it quietly.

Finally, Steve gives into the urge he's been holding back all evening. He curls onto his side and cries.

Steve hasn't cried like this since his mother died. There's been no other event in his life that's consumed him like this, not even his divorce, which was polite and impersonal, an uncharacteristic acceptance of the inevitable. Now he's confronted with how thoroughly he fucked up, how badly he reacted, how awfully he behaved.

Not only tonight, but since the moment he met Bucky.

Because Steve created this monster, he built this mess. It's a manufactured problem, because he asked for something and he got it, went wild with power over Bucky, and now he has to admit he should have put himself in check sooner. He hadn't wanted the boundaries, had naively assumed he wouldn't need safewords because Bucky was so good.

It wasn't Bucky's fault. Steve doesn't know what it feels like to be at someone's mercy. He doesn't know, and he hasn't asked, he hasn't once asked Bucky how he feels, how he's doing, if he's feeling trapped. There should be room for him to be himself.

Muffling a hiccup against his pillow, Steve exhales, sniffling miserably. He's snotted all over everything, face wet with tears.

What a fucking mess this is.

It had felt like a dream, and now he's woken up and realized nothing ever exists in a vacuum.

Eventually, he gets up, washes his face, and goes to get something to eat. The light under Bucky's door is still on when he walks by; it makes sense, it's not that late. He thinks maybe he hears him talking on the phone. It's not his business, right now, though. Maybe not ever.

Maybe he'll know in the morning.

Steve goes to bed, tries to watch TV, then read, until finally he drifts off.

In the morning, JARVIS wakes him up, and without stopping to question the urge, he tells JARVIS to inform America that he won't be in today and to contact Tony with anything urgent. Then he rolls over and goes back to sleep.

He wakes hours later to the smell of coffee and the quiet sizzle of the frying pan. After some internal debate, he gets up, pulling on his most comfortable hoodie and heading for the kitchen. He finds Bucky there in his own cozy pajamas, quietly pushing sausage links around in a pan.

"Hey," croaks Steve. "I um... I can just get some coffee and get out of your hair if you're not ready to talk. I was going to work from the office today."

Without looking up, Bucky says, "No, that's okay. I made french toast, too. It's just keeping warm in the oven. There's enough for both of us. Have a seat if you want. We... We can talk now."

"Alright." He shuffles over and sits on one of the stools at the kitchen island, watching Bucky work.

Bucky plates everything up, grabbing syrup from the microwave and setting it down in the middle as he sets plates and coffee down for both of them and sits next to Steve.

Steve starts to pour syrup onto his stack and think about what he wants to say, but Bucky speaks first.

"I'm going to tell you where I went and why. Not because you punished me or because of our fight. I wanted to tell you before but I... It was still too new and big and I hadn't even figured out how I felt about it. I was anxious because I knew I broke the rules, and you were so cold—"

Steve shakes his head. "You don't have to. I shouldn't have—"

"I know I don't have to, Steve, but I want to share this with you. It's important and it might... " Bucky shrugs, taking a breath. "It will come up again. Because I'm going to be going to see her every week. I might even want her to come visit here one day. And I want you to know what's going on."

Steve swallows and makes himself stay calm. "Okay, thank you, then, for wanting to share."

Bucky pokes at his french toast, gathering himself, and finally he says, "Since before I met you, I've been trying to find my sister. I knew I had a sister, but there wasn't a record of her anywhere, and sometimes I thought that maybe because I was so young and traumatized by the car accident that I just...made her up, like an imaginary friend. But I kept looking, and hoped that maybe one day I'd find something."

Steve stays silent, a little stunned by the direction this is going.

"And I didn't, until...one day I was frustrated, and I just started talking to JARVIS, and he said he could help me. And after months and years of doubt, within a few hours, he had answers for me. He had contact information and confirmation she did actually exist."

Steve sucks in a breath. "When...when was this, Buck?"

"Last week," says Bucky, shrugging. "Before the gala. He gave me an email address, but I... didn't want to get distracted before your big night, so I waited until yesterday, and then I emailed her. I emailed Becca, my sister, and she replied, and it happened so fast, I just... the second she said I should come meet her, I did. I just took off and rushed over to NYU. I couldn't wait, because I waited my whole life, you know? We talked for like three hours. It just flew by. We look so alike and we have all these little things we do and say in common, like..."

Bucky sucks in a trembling breath, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling in awe. "We haven't been together since we were four years old, but we touch our hair the same way. I lost track of time. I forgot to ask permission, and... That's what I wanted to tell you. I want to see her once a week. I want to make up for everything I didn't get to do for the last nineteen years."

"Bucky," says Steve, at a loss for a moment. He remembers now, so clearly, coming home and finding Bucky staring at the TV last Friday, lost in thought. "I... Of course you can see her. You can see her more than once a week if you want. That's incredible, and I'm so sorry that it took you so long to find her. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did when you got home, that you felt like you had to put her aside for me."

"I wanted to go with you to the gala," says Bucky, and he gives Steve a small smile. "I did like it, that night. And the day after. I liked the whole weekend. It felt good to...be yours, like that, instead of worrying about how to tell someone I'm their long lost twin."

Steve takes a breath and tries to believe what Bucky is saying, that he did want to be with him this past weekend, that it wasn't all one sided, how good it was. The real challenge will be getting back to that feeling ever again.

"Thank you for trusting me with that," says Steve. "I also want to talk about what happened last night and what I think we need to do to move past it, for me to do better. But let's finish eating okay? I don't want the food you made us to go cold."

"Okay," says Bucky quietly. He doesn't look at Steve, just nods and focuses on his plate, and they both dig in.

It's a bit awkward, sitting in silence and eating, but it seems to help them both settle a bit, to concentrate on something physical before they have this conversation.

When they're both finished, Steve gets up and takes their plates to the sink, and then returns to the island, where Bucky is hunched and quiet, thinking loudly.

"Will you come with me to the couch?" asks Steve. "Just to talk."

Bucky nods. Steve wants to touch him, but forces himself not to, leading the way and Bucky following. They end up curled next to each other comfortably, but not touching, facing each other.

"I want you to know that if you can't do this anymore, if I've broken your trust beyond repair, then you're well within your rights to break the contract," Steve begins, speaking slowly. "And if you feel trapped because you have nowhere else to go, then I will help you find a place to live and I will pay for it."

Bucky looks up sharply, examining Steve's face closely. "Okay," he says warily. "I do have somewhere to go, but I appreciate that. I... Do you think I should go?"

"I don't want you to," Steve says quietly. "But I want you to know that if you're uncomfortable and feel unsafe, then I'll do everything I can to help you leave, if that's what you want."

"That's not what I want," Bucky says softly. "I thought about it a lot. When I finally said stop, you stopped."

The memory of Bucky's anguished pleas comes rushing to the forefront of Steve's mind and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, trying to fight off the memory. When he finally opens his eyes again, Bucky is quietly watching him, waiting. He doesn't look put off, just concerned. Steve takes a breath and wills his tears away.

He doesn't need Bucky to feel sorry for him, here. Steve's the one who screwed up.

"You, um," he starts, and has to clear his throat when it comes out hoarse. "You shouldn't have had to scream like that to get me to listen. If I'd instituted safewords at the beginning and really discussed what it means to have this kind of relationship together, you could have stopped it before it started."

Bucky looks down, pulling a decorative pillow onto his lap. "I liked the way things were until yesterday, though." His voice drops to almost a whisper. "Usually I like that you decide everything."

A sharp sense of relief hits Steve at those words. "And we can still do things like that. That makes me happy, too, Buck," assures Steve. "But I'm not perfect, and having that kind of control over someone without any safeguards in place is unsafe play and there's no way for you to truly consent if there's no way for you to say no. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," says Bucky. "It was exciting, before, and nice to not worry. It's a lot, though, to put on you, to expect you to always get it right. You said you thought you knew what I needed, but you got it wrong, and I know you're not perfect."

"As I have proved, again and again, huh?" mutters Steve.

"It's okay. You'd be really annoying if you were perfect."

Steve lets out a surprised laugh, nodding. "Yeah, I've been told I'm really insufferable when I think I'm always right."

Bucky smiles at that and Steve lets out a breath before he continues. "It means more, too, knowing your submission isn't mandated, that it's given freely, that you have other options. I lost sight of that because I’ve been selfish when it came to you and I took your submission for granted. Doing things the way I did was borderline abusive, and I shouldn't have put you in that position. I should have been talking to you about what a healthy Dom/sub relationship looks like and making sure you had resources outside of me."

"Okay," says Bucky, swallowing against tears, his nose gone pink and his eyes rimmed with red. "I'm not...afraid of you, or anything. I know that what happened was an honest mistake, that you thought... I realize that until I told you to stop, you thought it was part of...what we normally do."

"Even if it was part of what we normally do, I should have discussed introducing something that big and new."

"I don't mind when you surprise me with new things, usually. Even if it's not something I would have thought of on my own, or seems like I might not like it, I like doing it for you," admits Bucky, shrugging. "Can we...still have that and be safe about how we, um, play?"

Steve ponders that a moment, thinking things over. "We can keep it simple," says Steve. "Since you want me to keep deciding for you, it doesn’t sound like you want to do check-ins mid-scene. That would mean I'd ask you for a colour, you'd tell me green if you're okay, and we'd go over each scenario before playing."

"No," agrees Bucky, shaking his head. "I don't want to think about any of that, all the time."

"It's too disruptive?" guesses Steve.

Bucky nods.

"Then your safeword to stop me is 'red'. You'll say that and I'll drop everything. Do you want a word to slow me down?"

Bucky considers this, chewing his lip for a moment before shaking his head. "No. Just to stop."

"Okay," says Steve. "Good. You can use it freely, before play even starts. I also think you need a day off. I think on Mondays, as of 12 AM, you're not working. The contract doesn't apply."

Bucky frowns, not as if he's upset, but more like he's thinking. "We'll still...do just aftercare on Sundays?"

"Yes,” agrees Steve. “Nothing strenuous the whole day, to help bring you back down after an intense week, but I think we should also use it as an opportunity to debrief. We should talk about anything new we did and what you thought about it, and make sure you feel comfortable to use the safeword any time. And then Mondays are all yours to do as you please. You can still ask me things, if you need. I know you haven't...had a lot of freedom in the last month," says Steve.

"Yeah," breathes Bucky. "Will I still see you on Mondays?"

"Of course, Buck. We don't have to avoid each other. We can even still have breakfast or dinner together if you wanted, but you're not required. It's your day to plan for yourself, do what makes you happy. You don't have to ask my permission to go anywhere, so long as you're safe and," Steve pauses, considering his next words. "I want to be explicit about this: I don't share, okay? I don't want you to have sex or to date anyone else while we're still in this arrangement."

Bucky blinks at him as if he's suddenly sprouted a second head. "I don't want to be with anyone else. I wouldn't do that."

"I didn't think you would," assures Steve. "I just think it's best moving forward that we have better, more explicit rules so that we understand all the expectations. We agree ahead of time and we trust each other to follow them. And if something comes up that is an honest mistake, like you forgetting to call me when you got your good news, then we discuss it and decide together if a punishment is something we want to pursue."

Bucky bites his lip and nods. "Okay. On the rest of the days of the week, do I still call you before I leave the house?"

"Yes," says Steve immediately. "I think we both enjoyed that feeling of me controlling you completely?"

Bucky nods mutely, his cheeks red.

"Then we'll go on like normal, and I'll trust you to use your safeword if you need, but otherwise...you're mine to do with as I please."

Bucky shivers, nodding eagerly, and Steve finally lets out a relieved breath, feeling the last of his tension drain away. "Come here," he orders, opening his arms, and Bucky immediately crawls into his lap and sighs as Steve wraps him in a firm embrace. "We'll amend the contract to match," Steve says, kissing Bucky's hair. "We can start next week, officially. Yesterday should have been your day off, though, and if you'd like to substitute today, I'm happy to do that."

"No," says Bucky. "We can do that next week."

"Then we'll take it easy today, do something a little different, since I called off work," says Steve. "We had a fairly relaxed morning... If you agree, I'd like to show you the playroom. But not to do anything today. I want you to know more about the things that are in there."

Bucky shifts a little, looking evenly at Steve. "Yeah?"

"I don't want the playroom to..." Steve sighs. "I don't want you to associate it with a mistake. I intended to bring you there for a more fulfilling activity. Why don't we explore it together?"

"Okay," agrees Bucky readily.

"Then go shower, put on something comfortable, and meet me in there in half an hour. Sound good?"

Bucky smiles and leans up to press a kiss to Steve's mouth. "Yes, thank you."

Steve feels his whole heart go achingly soft and warm. "You're always welcome, baby. Thank you for being so good for me. Now go on."

Bucky scrambles off his lap and goes to his room and Steve lets out a breath and collapses back onto the couch for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Please contact my lawyer and have the discussed amendments added to the contract. And... take out the stipulation that if he ends the agreement, he doesn't get the bonus," instructs Steve.

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Regardless of who ends it or if it runs the full 12 month course, he gets the money, the home, and the college education."

"Certainly, I'll convey that to the firm. Will there be anything else?"

"Yeah, the pizza order he put in at his favorite place? Place that again for lunch please."

"Consider it done, Captain."

"Thanks, JARVIS. And thank you for looking out for him," says Steve.

"You're most welcome. However, I am only following my protocols."

Steve snorts at that. Tony may have most people fooled that JARVIS is just a very sophisticated Siri or Alexa, but Steve has known them both for a long time: JARVIS is true artificial intelligence.

Getting up, Steve goes to take his own shower, trim his beard, and change into soft black pants and a comfortable black henley. He goes to the playroom and quickly picks up the mess from last night and wipes down the St. Andrew's Cross, making sure everything is in place and immaculate.

Just before the designated time, he hears Bucky's soft footsteps behind him as he comes into the room. Steve turns and smiles happily. Bucky has wet hair, his skin rosy from the hot water, and there's a look of open curiosity on Bucky's face rather than anger and fear. He's got on a pair of soft jeans and a t-shirt, his feet bare.

"So, let's take a tour." He holds out his hand to Bucky, who comes by his side immediately.

"I can't believe you had a whole secret sex room in the penthouse this whole time."

Steve snorts. He opens his mouth to correct Bucky, to defend himself, and finally he just shrugs. "Say anything you want. It's what you're thinking. Rich people are wild, right?"

Bucky laughs, eyes bright. "Yeah. I guess when you have a lot of money and you want something, why not, right?" His expression is sly and pointed; Steve tweaks his nipple to make him squeak.

"Yeah, yeah. It's a lot for a beginner, I know," Steve says firmly. "I preferred the comfort of the bedroom. But I was going to bring you here soon."

"Right," says Bucky. He's flushed, now, not just from his shower. "And you're going to explain all this stuff today?"

"Yes, today is just about satisfying your curiosity." He pauses. "If you want to skip the cross from now on, I understand, too."

"No," says Bucky. "I think it's fine. The flogging probably would be, too. It was the... punishment, it was because I thought it wasn't fair. My head wasn’t in the right place."

"Okay," says Steve. "Well, it's called a St. Andrew's Cross. It’s primarily for heavy impact play, like the flogger, or things like whips and cat o' nines. I keep most of those hanging on the wall." He gestures. There's a variety of items used for punishments; paddles, crops, whips of all kinds, pinwheels, and similar instruments. Bucky's eyes are wide and then Steve guides Bucky to the cross. "You can be strapped in with your front or your back to it, depending on the activity."

Bucky eyes are very intent, clearly imagining it. He usually glazes over a bit when his imagination runs away with something. "Okay," he says hoarsely. "Let's keep going."

Steve turns Bucky around and shows him the padded bench. "Similar concept. It's usually called a spanking bench, for obvious reasons. Hands and knees, though, puts you low to the ground." He also points out the reinforced rings in the ceiling, for suspension and other bondage, and then guides Bucky to the wardrobe. He opens it up, and Bucky's jaw drops.

Organized by size and function, he reveals the toys he hasn't shown or used on Bucky yet—restraints of all types, armbinders, spreader bars, blindfolds, hoods, gags, harnesses, chastity devices, cock rings...

Bucky stares at it all, and Steve sees him shift, the front of his jeans looking snugger by the second.

Steve knows he's good at reading people, but no matter how sure he was that Bucky would be a good little bottom, would submit nicely, he could never, ever have predicted how well he would take to the world of kink in general. Steve is hard pressed to think of a single thing Bucky wouldn't enjoy if presented in the right way, except perhaps some of the more...niche, extreme activities that Steve himself has no interest in.

But he's certainly a very kinky submissive with a masochistic streak a mile wide.

"The bed is custom made too," he says, gesturing towards the round frame in the corner. "There are rings to attach restraints to all around the edges, and the frame overhead is reinforced so you can have your arms strapped to it, above your head, while you ride my cock, for example."

Bucky bites his lip, a muffled sound escaping. Then he refocuses on the cabinet and reaches out slowly, before glancing at Steve. "May I touch?"

"Of course, pick it up, look at it. Whatever you want."

There's pink crawling up his neck and splashed across his face, his ears red. Steve has seen him chew on his lip more than once, his fingers twitching at his sides. He's already so worked up. Steve is relieved beyond words that Bucky can still want and enjoy these things despite Steve's fuckup.

Bucky slides his fingers over the row of gags, touching leather straps and metal rings and buckles, rubber balls and bits. "How...how would I safeword, if I were wearing a gag?"

"I have a little button," he says, reaching past Bucky to open the bottom drawer with some of the more utility items (lube, condoms, wipes, toy cleaner, etc). "The little loop slips onto your thumb so you can't drop it, and you press it for red and it makes a sound." He presses the button to demonstrate and it makes a loud sound that comes from the speakers all around the room. "Or if what we're doing is not that intense, I might just have you snap your fingers."

"Okay," says Bucky, nodding along. And then his hand freezes over a particular muzzle gag.

Steve has to keep from grinning when he notices. It's a recent addition to his collection, purchased specifically for Bucky. They just haven't gotten back around to playing like that...too occupied in their crash course of kinky sex.

"Um, is this...?"

"For sweet little puppy dogs? Mmhm," says Steve.

Bucky glazes over so quickly he sways a bit. He swallows hard, eyes fixed on the strict, utilitarian muzzle; once on, it would cover most of Bucky's face, going over his nose and chin, with a ball gag fitted inside to muffle him completely.

"We can do that soon if you want," Steve says softly. "You want to be my sweet little puppy this weekend?"

"Yes," rasps Bucky immediately.

"You can choose the individual accessories yourself," Steve offers, "or I can gather everything when we're ready to play."

"You," says Bucky. He nods firmly. He's half gone already.

Steve leans over and presses a kiss to his temple. "Come on, let's move on before we go off plan and I end up stripping you down right now."

"Would that be so bad?" asks Bucky, voice gone husky.

"Yes," sighs Steve. "We should really step back from anything intense, at least for a few days. This weekend, though, I promise."

"Okay," huffs Bucky, tearing his gaze away. He points at the collection of larger mechanical and electronic toys. "Tell me about those."

Steve chuckles. "Those would catch your eye, greedy boy, though I think any one of them would stand a chance of wearing you out," he says, pointing to each one. "That is a Sybian, a kind of vibrator that is most often used on people with clits, but can also be put to good use on people with greedy little asses like you, with the right attachment. And that one is commonly referred to as a fucking machine. It does exactly what it sounds like: you strapped down in whatever position I choose, with this thing fucking you senseless, as long as I wanted."

"Oh my god," groans Bucky. "With these new rules, am I allowed to beg?"

"Not a chance," growls Steve, pulling Bucky around to tip his chin up. "And we should take this opportunity to make sure we're back on the same page. You're still supposed to be my good, sweet boy. And I'm still going to punish you if you step out of line. Do you understand that? Is that still what you want, Bucky?"

Bucky swallows, his throat bobbing as he licks his lips. He searches Steve's face, taking a moment. When he finally answers, he meets Steve's gaze boldly. "Yes," he says clearly. "That's still what I want."

"Good," says Steve, leaning down to kiss Bucky before he pulls back. He shows him around the rest of the toys, explaining all the gadgets and gizmos and everything in between. They finish around the time the pizza arrives and head out to the kitchen.

It's a surprisingly good day, considering how awful the night before was.

Steve looks up from the email he's reading from his lawyer. Bucky is stretched out on the couch next to him, his feet tucked under Steve's thigh to keep his toes warm. "Tomorrow, would you like to meet me for lunch at the office? And then we could go by the lawyer's office to sign the addendum."

"Oh, like...at Stark Industries?" asks Bucky, fidgeting with his phone. He's been texting all evening while half-watching Marie Kondo deal with people's messes on Netflix. He never used to text anyone before and Steve wonders if Bucky had any friends before he found his sister.

"Yes, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I could meet you at the lawyer's office first and then we could go to lunch," offers Steve.

"No, that's okay," Bucky says quickly. "I can meet you there. What time?"

"Noon. I should be done with all my meetings before then. I'll have America leave guest credentials at the lobby desk. Check in there and then head up to the twenty-second floor. America will meet you at the elevator and bring you to my office."

"Sure," says Bucky. "Never went up to the exec level when I worked there."

"Well, you can see where I work, what I'm doing while I'm thinking about coming home to you," says Steve, giving Bucky a smile. He's glad Bucky's willing to go back to Stark Industries, at least in this capacity. "Thanks for agreeing."

"Well, just make sure America talks to security. I'm pretty sure I was told not to come back when they escorted me out," he mutters, looking back down at his phone.

Steve represses a flinch, clearing his throat instead. "I'll make sure everything is cleared up with security. With HR, too, okay? When you go to find a job in the future, you can put Stark on the application. They'll say you left in good standing, that you're rehirable."

Bucky flicks his gaze up again and looks at Steve. His expression is, for once in his life, unreadable. "Okay, thanks."

"Yeah, of course," says Steve.

Bucky goes back to his phone, still keeping an eye on Tidying Up, and Steve wonders what's going through his head.

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

Steve wakes up the next morning with Bucky tucked against his side, warm and pliant. He kisses Bucky's cheek and allows himself to indulge in staring at him as he sleeps on in peaceful oblivion. He really is beautiful; high, sharp cheekbones and a softly sloped nose over full, pink lips. His chin is soft, too, the little cleft achingly cute, his jaw prickled with stubble, and his hair is a short tumble of dark, gently curling locks.

Steve could stare at him all day.

Unfortunately, he does have to go into work, especially after his unplanned absence yesterday. With a quiet groan, he pulls away from Bucky and gets up to get ready. Bucky wakes just before Steve is ready to leave for the day, wandering into the kitchen as he rubs his eyes, jaw cracking in a yawn.

"Morning," he mumbles, brushing past Steve and going straight for the coffee maker. "Noon, right?"

"Right," confirms Steve. He watches Bucky with amusement as he dumps cream and sugar into his coffee, his eyes barely open. "Do you want JARVIS to remind you when to start getting ready?"

Bucky takes a long gulp and croaks, "Yeah."

"I will do so at 10:30, Mr. Barnes," says JARVIS.

"Thanks, JARVIS," sighs Bucky. He looks at Steve. "You're leaving for work?"

"Yes, do you need anything else before I go?"

"Mmm," hums Bucky. "What do you want me to wear?"

Steve grins. He does love telling Bucky what to wear. "The black jeans, green shirt, grey scarf, charcoal peacoat, and black boots."

Bucky nods, looking pleased. "Okay, see you then. Have a good morning."

"You too, Buck," murmurs Steve, leaning in to press a goodbye kiss to Bucky's lips before he heads to the elevator.

When he slips into the backseat of the town car, Clint nods at him. "Morning, Cap. Glad to see you today."

"Thanks. Had a migraine yesterday, decided to take it easy for once," he lies. "Seems like the world kept spinning without me, though."

"Guess you'll have to see if Stark fared the same," offers Clint with a smile, his attention turning to the road as they pull into traffic.

"Suppose so," he agrees. "Bucky will need a ride around 11:40 today. He's meeting me at the office for lunch."

"I'll be ready for him."

They ride in silence the rest of the way and Steve thanks him when he gets dropped off at the front doors.

Mostly, his morning is a whirlwind of catching up even though he answered as many emails as he could yesterday. Sam's still in Hong Kong, and even though Design has jack shit to do with Accounts, it seems like everyone is busier in Sam's absence. Steve even gets roped into agreeing to take some clients for drinks that night.

Natasha comes into his office around ten and closes the door behind her. "How's your migraine?"

"Better, thanks for asking," he says, looking up from his monitor. "Barely a twinge left."

She hums, walking over to the bar to pour herself what seems to be a very stiff drink.

"We celebrating or mourning?" Steve lifts an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair.

"Little of both. Sam renewed the contract with XM." She takes a sip and sits down across the desk from him.

"We weren't worried, were we?"

"No, not worried. Sam's the best and XM just needed some TLC. The real problem is that Hammer is targeting our biggest clients."

Steve waves a hand. "He knows his time is limited. His last three releases have been flops and we've tripled our market share."

"Exactly: he knows his time is limited. Maybe he wants to try to do as much damage to us on the way out as he can. He's always hated Tony." Natasha leans back in her seat, propping her legs up on his desk and crossing them neatly at the ankle.

"Everyone hates Tony at one point or another. I hated Tony once upon a time. Justin Hammer needs to get over it."

"You hated Tony because you didn't think he was capable of listening to anyone else, but then he listened to you and then you got over it. Hammer hates him because he wants to be him and he knows he's not good enough. That kind of hate doesn't go away, Steve. It festers," she says, taking another drink. "Trust me."

"I always trust you." He studies her face for a moment, serious and sharp, and he sighs. "Okay, I'll bite. What should we do about him?"

"For now? Nothing. Watch and wait, give Sam as much support as we can in retaining clients, keep on top of the most important ones. I'll give Tony and Pepper a more thorough report. We should also involve legal, get their wheels turning on what we can do to shut him down if it comes to it."

"Oh good, do you want to tell Scott to put this on his radar or should I?" Steve can't quite contain his smirk. "How many oranges do you think we'll go through while he stresses about a lawsuit with Hammer?"

Natasha purses her lips. "I don't want to think about it."

Steve laughs out loud. "Alright, I'll swing by legal before lunch."

"Ooh, where are you going? I could use a break from this building."

"You know I would happily invite you to lunch, Nat, but I'm not going alone. I've got an errand to run and then Bucky and I are going to try out a new Polish place."

"I see," she says, uncrossing her legs and sitting up. "So, what's the real scoop on this kid?"

"Don't tell me you haven't already dug up everything you could possibly find as soon as you learned his name," says Steve. "I know you better than that."

"Obviously I looked him up, but there's not much to read. Orphaned. Alone. A few semesters of community college, no degree. The best thing he had going for him up until recently was a job in the mailroom here until he was abruptly fired. By you."

Steve meets her eyes, refusing to look away, to imply that he feels guilty about that. He doesn't. Bucky broke the rules. Bucky—

Bucky, much like Monday, made a small mistake, and Steve took his feelings out on him. Steve breaks eye contact and pushes up from his desk to make himself a drink, too. "That was...an unfortunate event brought on by even more unfortunate circumstances. I'm having HR correct his file."

"But now you're dating him?" she asks, unfazed by his admission. She tracks him around the room until he sits on his couch and then gets up to join him. "How does that happen?"

"We kept running into each other. I liked him. Like him."

"Obviously, you brought him with you to the benefit for your mother, Steve. That's not casual." She sips from her glass.

"I think I need to get you and Sam in the same room with me so I can just get this all out of the way at once," he huffs. "My relationship with him isn't casual, but it's not—" Steve cuts himself off, the words dying on his throat. —but it's not important.

"It's not…?" She arches her eyebrow. "It's not what, Steve?"

God, Steve's not sure anymore. Two days ago he sat in Sam's office and insisted he wasn't falling for Bucky, that it wasn't like that. And maybe it isn't, but it's certainly not nothing, either. Bucky is important to him. "I don't know. What I was going to say isn't true."

"Is he your sub?" asks Natasha bluntly.

"Yes," he says, looking up at her again. Natasha is a domme, interested exclusively in women for herself, but she has a voyeuristic streak a mile wide. When Steve used to go to clubs with Peggy, she enjoyed watching them work together.

"And you entered into a relationship with him as his dom after you destabilized him financially by firing him?" Her voice doesn't take on any judgment, but when it's phrased like that Steve feels the panic of two nights ago twist in his chest again.

"I—um, I offered him an arrangement, a contract."

She takes a moment, studying him. "Steve, how long have we been friends?"

"Five years."

"And in the last five years, what about our friendship has made you believe you need to hide anything from me?" Her questions are steady, level, still without a hint of judgment. Natasha rarely gives away what she's thinking unless it's to her benefit.

"I'm not—"

"You are, though. I know he's living with you, and I know he has been since the start of the year," she says, sitting forward and setting her drink down on the coffee table. "So you fired him two months ago and then entered into a live-in sub arrangement with him a month after that, but this is the first I'm hearing about it from you. Instead, you kept acting like you were dating someone casually, only to reveal he's actually your full time, contracted sub."

"I didn't want to explain it," he snaps. "I didn't want you doing what you're doing now. We kept running into each other, okay? It wasn't premeditated. I fired him and then mostly put it out of my head until he kept being everywhere I went. We...had chemistry and I wanted him, so I offered to take care of him, financially, if he agreed to move in with me."

"Let me get this straight. After the emotional turmoil of ending a ten year relationship, your solution was to pick up a down-on-his-luck twink and offer him a live-in contract?"

"Jesus, Nat," he mutters. "Can you pull your punches a little in the name of friendship?"

Pursing her lips, Natasha sighs and reaches for her drink again. "No, I can’t, and we wouldn't be friends if I did."

Steve knows she's right, and about more than one thing. "It wasn't about Peggy, okay? I swear. Maybe it was a little about the divorce, but not because I was sad about her. I mean, I am sad about her, but that's not—she didn't need me, she never did. Bucky does."

"That's one hell of a cliché."

"Maybe it is," he says with a shrug. "But it doesn't make it any less true. I wanted something...someone I couldn't fail."

"And Bucky, he understands all this? He knows you view your relationship with him as a means to an end?"

"I gave him a one year contract. He understands that."

"So he's an experienced sub, then?"

Steve thinks of Bucky, of the way he smiles at Steve, the way he always tucks himself against Steve's side when they watch TV, how he figured out what Steve likes best to eat and always makes him dinner, how he responds to being teased, how he teases Steve right back. "He's been perfect."

Natasha narrows her eyes. "That is not an answer to my question. This is an emotionally charged situation, Steve. You have to make sure—"

The back of Steve's neck burns and he interrupts her, rips the bandaid off. "He's never been a sub before, Natasha. He's never even dated before, okay? He was a virgin."

In a rare loss of composure, her mouth drops open. "You've got to be joking. You're fucking with me, right? Tell me you are."

"I'm not."

"And you just…" Natasha trails off, taking a deep breath. "That's one hell of a leap going from only ever working with professional, seasoned subs in one-off scenes, to training a novice full time. It's been going okay? You've been cautious about introducing him to new things?"

"He's responded well to most things we've done," says Steve. He fidgets with the glass, watching the swirl of melted ice in the dark liquor. He takes a deep, steadying breath. "We've had a couple of hiccups, but overall it's going well."

"Yeah?"

When Steve looks up, he sees Natasha watching him closely. He swallows, his eyes prickling as he remembers the way Bucky cried Monday night, the distress in his voice, how awful it felt to realize he'd hurt Bucky. "I, uh," he says, licking his lips. "I have fucked up, if that's what you want to hear. It is an admittedly steeper learning curve than I was anticipating, but things are good—better, now."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he breathes, taking a fortifying drink. He clears his throat and looks at Natasha again, giving her a tight smile. "He's been perfect, though, he really has. I messed up but I made it right and I'll be better moving forward."

"Okay," she says, frowning at him. "Maybe you don't want to talk about it, but it sounds like you need to talk about it. What happened?"

Shame twists in his stomach, sour and sharp. He doesn't want to share this, but he feels compelled to, like draining an infected wound or going to confession at church. "He broke a rule on Monday, refused to explain himself, and he'd never behaved like that before. I...didn't know what the problem was, but I thought he needed a punishment, y'know? That it would release the tension and then everything would go back to normal, to the way it's been for the past month."

"But it wasn't the right move?"

Steve shakes his head. "No. I put him on the cross and started to flog him. He had a panic attack."

"I'm so sorry. That's rough," she says with sympathy. "He's okay now?"

"Yeah, I stopped as soon as I realized what was happening. I just hate that it got that far at all."

"Sometimes inexperienced subs don't know their own limits very well and they won't safeword when they should. It's not their fault, they're still learning, but it can be really hard on both partners—"

"That's not exactly what happened," he hears himself say. "We didn't have safewords in place. I never—" He hesitates, the confession bitter on his tongue. "I thought I didn't need them. He was so good and he liked everything I did. I thought I could handle it. I thought… But I was wrong and I made a bad call."

Natasha sucks in a shocked breath, staring at him. "Oh, Steve," she says. "Steve, that was a really bad call."

"I know. I know I fucked up, okay? I said I did, but I swear I made it right. We have a safeword now, and we talked about it," he assures her and himself. "I was stupid and selfish, and I'm lucky—"

"Yeah, you're goddamn lucky! Do you know how badly you could have hurt him? How horrible it could have turned out for both of you? You never, ever play without some kind of system in place to ensure scenes are safe, sane, and consensual! You are not a rookie. I know that you know better. This is BDSM 101. Safewords aren't just there to protect the sub; they're there to protect you, too!"

"I get it!" he says, his voice rising. "I fucking get it, Nat. Do you know how ashamed of myself I am? I did the wrong thing, I hurt him. Even if he's okay now, I have to live with how I fucked up. Nothing you could possibly say would be worse than what I've said to myself over the past 48 hours."

Steve's shoulders are tense, his muscles ache. He drains the last of the whisky and stands, feeling the weight of Natasha's stare on him. He walks to the bar and fixes another drink, more for something to do than for a desire for any more alcohol. Behind him, he hears Natasha stand too.

She comes up to stand next to him, compact and slight in stature, but her presence has always been like that of a friendly lioness. He knows she could eat him alive, but she chooses not to because of reasons he hopes remain true. She puts a hand out and takes his glass from between his fingers and puts it down on the cart. "How hard did you drop?"

"Pretty hard," he croaks, finally giving in to wiping tears from his eyes. Her compassion feels like too much to bear in the face of his own mistake.

"And you haven't talked to anyone about it, I'm sure?" she guesses, gently turning him so they're facing each other.

He shakes his head. "I couldn't tell him. I didn't want him to feel sorry for me after what I did."

Natasha sighs. "God, you're a mess, Rogers. Come here." She opens her arms and Steve immediately folds himself down to her size, allowing her to hold him close as he hugs her tight.

Her hand is cool on the back of his neck, a comforting press as he takes deep breaths. "I thought I wanted total control," he whispers. "I thought I could handle it. I wanted to handle it."

She squeezes, and Steve relaxes against her. "No one can handle having total control over someone else. I'm shocked it took a month for it to blow up in your face. You're not meant to bear that kind of weight. It can be hard enough with safewords in place. You can't read his mind, no matter how well you get to know him, how much time you spend together. It's not about control, Steve. It's about trust."

The thing is, Steve knows that, and he also knows how good it feels to have mutual trust with a partner, but he didn't want to open himself up to Bucky. He didn't want to be vulnerable.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and nods, taking one more fortifying breath before he starts to pull away. Natasha lets him go, turning her face to press a kiss to his cheek.

She gives him a small smile as they both step back. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes," sighs Steve. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, it's okay. You're still recovering from your drop. You should tell him about it, too. I know you don't want to, but if you've started playing safely, if you've talked about how a dom/sub relationship works, then this should be part of it."

"He doesn't know anything about this lifestyle but what he's googled. He's such a natural, amazing submissive though, Nat. I want to be good enough for that."

"Doms aren't perfect, Steve, and neither are submissives. Yeah, you screwed up harder than normal, I don't want to sugarcoat that. If he's forgiven you, if you've made it right, then you'd better bust your ass to keep it right," she tells him. "But that doesn't mean perfection and it doesn't mean you can't ask for things you need. Half of training a novice is talking about feelings and how important open communication is."

Steve huffs. "Yeah, we've set aside Sundays as sort of an aftercare and debriefing day. And Mondays are his day off from now on. He still wants me to decide things for him the rest of the time. He enjoys that, doesn't like thinking about what comes next. But he's got a safeword now and I'm going to remind him of it before anything intense."

"That's a start," she says, nodding along. "Just make sure you're taking small opportunities to check in outside of play, see where he's at emotionally and mentally. With his lack of experience, he needs to know confiding in you is okay, that he can trust you to see him as a person, too, and not just a toy."

"Yeah." Steve combs a hand through his hair and then smiles at Natasha. "Thank you for listening."

"Any time, you know that, and if you need another perspective, a sounding board for things, please let me know. This isn't a situation pure bullheadedness will get you through."

"Heard and received, loud and clear, Nat. I promise."

She nods once and then reaches up to straighten his tie. "Okay, go talk to Lang, get him on board with the plan. I'm going to go find Pepper. Have a good lunch with Bucky."

Natasha leaves and Steve busies himself with work, meeting with Scott and then making the rounds on his design team, getting in some facetime with them and checking on their various projects. He emails HR personally even though America was also in contact with them as she set up for Bucky's visit today, and then he ensures that his lawyer is ready for their visit. By the time noon rolls around, the sight of Bucky being escorted through his doors is very welcome.

"Hey, don't you look nice," he murmurs, beckoning him closer before he glances over at America. "Thank you, feel free to take a long lunch today if you'd like. I won't be back until after two."

"Sounds good. Don't forget you've got drinks tonight with the CEO of Marvel, Carol Danvers."

As soon as Bucky is within arm's reach, he pulls him in, brushing a kiss to his cheek with a smile before looking back at America. "I won't forget. You made reservations?"

"Of course, her favorite spot, according to the personal assistant grape vine," she announces. "And it's not a bogus favorite spot like I give about you to people we don't like. This is good info."

"You are the best. Are you sure you want to leave me as soon as you get your MBA? I'll never survive."

"I know," she says smartly. "That's why you should be glad I'll be just a few floors down in my own office whenever your new assistant screws up. Please know I will absolutely require frequent bribes for my services, though."

Steve laughs, arms slung low around Bucky's back. "Noted. Have a good break, America. See you later."

"Sure thing, Cap. Nice to meet you, Bucky," she says with a wave.

"You too!" he calls and then turns to Steve as America closes the door behind her. "She's really nice."

Steve smiles and leans in to press a kiss to Bucky's lips. "Yeah, she is, isn't she?"

"When does she graduate?"

"Just a few months. This May, actually, but we've already offered her a spot in Operations," says Steve. He frowns, glancing at the door. "I'll have to start looking for a new assistant by the end of March so she has enough time to train them."

"I hope it goes well," says Bucky.

"Mmm, yeah," sighs Steve, pulling Bucky close again. "But that's enough shoptalk. It's been a very tedious morning and now I have you."

"Steve," whines Bucky, squirming a bit in his hold, but there's a blush rising in his cheeks and he looks pleased. "We have an appointment at your lawyer's firm."

"Normally, I would say she can wait, as much as her retainer is, but...I do have a busy afternoon," he admits.

"And I'm hungry," adds Bucky, giving Steve big, pleading eyes.

Steve snorts. "Oh, of course. You're hungry. How rude of me."

"Very rude," agrees Bucky, nodding decisively. "Lawyer, then perogies."

"Alright, if you insist." With another peck to Bucky's cheek, Steve releases him and walks over to the coat stand to grab his coat and scarf, bundling up. They've had quite the cold snap this February.

He holds out his hand to Bucky. "Come on, let's get a move on. Can't have you going hungry, now, can we?"

The lawyer’s office is only a couple of blocks away, so they decide to walk. The meeting itself is nothing to write home about. It’s short and to the point, a quick review of the amendments Steve requested she make to the contract.

Bucky tenses up when the lawyer reads out the section removing the year-long stipulation about the bonus. He opens his mouth and then closes it again, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. Then he flicks his gaze briefly to Steve, before returning his attention to the lawyer.

She finishes speaking and asks if Bucky has any questions, but he shakes his head, so they both sign and date their copies.

It’s not until after they’ve left and are catching a ride to the restaurant that Bucky brings it up.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask about it in front of the lawyer, because I assumed it might be weird if I didn’t already know, but…” Bucky trails off, his brow furrowing. “How come you made it so I can leave any time?”

“Because you should have always been able to leave whenever you want without repercussions,” Steve says evenly. “You’re not a horse. I should never have created that clause and dangled it like a carrot on the end of a stick.”

“But it’s a lot,” says Bucky. “You’re paying me, Steve. When someone quits their job, they don’t also get tuition, and a house, and a continued allowance. It’s not a bonus if you get it no matter what you do.”

Steve purses his lips. “Think of it like severance, then. I’m not interested in making you feel unsafe in any way. I revised the terms of the original agreement because I felt holding a perk that substantial over your head was disingenuous. You might, at some point, push yourself to continue with our arrangement out of a natural desire for freedom and safety, and the last thing I would ever want at this stage would be you feeling trapped.”

Bucky is quiet for a long time. Steve looks out the window of the car, giving him space to respond.

“I don’t think I’ll want to break the arrangement,” Bucky says softly. “But...thank you. I appreciate what that means.”

“You don’t think so now,” Steve allows. “Circumstances can always change. Obviously, I don’t want to end the arrangement either, but this gives you more agency after I set you up in a situation that stripped it away.”

“Okay,” says Bucky after a moment. “You thought about that a lot.”

“I had some time,” Steve says lightly. “Reflected on my choices and how they affect you. Got a fair bit of sense knocked into me by Natasha, too.”

Bucky’s gaze sharpens a little, grows bright and curious. “You talked to her? About, um…”

“Our arrangement,” Steve says slowly. “She had more to say about what happened the other night, though. I didn’t realize I needed to talk it out until she came by this morning.”

“Oh,” says Bucky, his face falling. “Are you...is…”

Steve takes in a deep, slow breath. Natasha told him he should tell Bucky. If they want to avoid something like this happening again, then Bucky needs to know that both partners can drop. “I’m fine,” he says. “I don’t want you to worry about me when this whole thing was my fault. We’ve done just about all we could to resolve it and move on.”

“Right,” says Bucky. “But?”

“Nat suggested I use this as a teachable moment,” Steve continues. “We need to communicate more openly and you’re inexperienced regarding this lifestyle. You remember when you dropped? After our first weekend?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s brow furrows a little, wary.

“That can happen to the dominant partner, too,” Steve explains. “It’s physiological, after all. A drop in endorphins. It’s not as common, in my personal experience, but it happens.”

“You dropped,” Bucky says quietly, his eyes very wide. “After I left?”

Steve nods. “I was upset because I knew I did the wrong thing. I hurt you, and it was my fault that we weren't being safe about it."

"When I dropped, I needed you there so I could feel better." Bucky fidgets, picking at his thumbnail in his lap. "But you didn't have anyone."

"I managed it. I wanted you to have space and feel safe that night," says Steve. "If it was a different circumstance, then it would be good for a sub to be there with their dom while they recovered, but that night isn't anything you need to worry about, okay? I talked it through with Natasha, and her advice was to share with you. She’s right. It’s good to debrief.”

“So, in future…” Bucky trails off, looking expectantly at Steve.

Steve nods. “Should it happen again, then...generally staying with your partner is a good place to start. Ask what they need. Hold them.”

“Okay,” says Bucky. He smiles tentatively, and Steve returns it easily. “I’m sorry you were alone for that, anyway. I think...if I’d known…”

“It’s not about that moment,” Steve reminds him gently. “I just wanted to put all my cards on the table."

“Thank you,” Bucky says quietly. “I feel better, knowing. I wouldn’t want you to feel like that if I could help it.”

Steve cups his cheek and draws him in for a warm kiss. “I know. You’re a very good boy, Buck. No need to feel sorry for me, though.”

Bucky’s cheeks pink up sweetly. He huffs a little, angling his head to look out the window into traffic as they finally pull into the right neighbourhood. “God. Okay. I’m starving. We’re going to die in this car, without ever getting perogies.”

Steve snorts. “Drama queen.”

They do finally arrive at the restaurant and the food is worth the delay. At least, that’s what Bucky’s enthusiastic noises tell Steve. It’s a shame to have to go back to work afterwards, but the tension of the last couple days only fades further as they draw closer to the weekend again.

On Saturday morning, Bucky is practically vibrating with excitement. After a week of lowkey evenings that rarely saw them both still awake past ten, Steve has his own share of anticipatory enthusiasm.

He drags a biscuit through the last dregs of gravy, watching as Bucky fidgets with making himself a second cup of coffee. "You still want what you asked for?"

Bucky freezes and looks up, eyes wide. "Um, yeah, yes."

"Which was? I'm sorry, my memory's a little shot after such a long week. Could you remind me?" He grins as he pops the biscuit in his mouth and chews.

Cheeks glowing red, Bucky scowls at his coffee. "You know, with...with that one gag that you got for me, the special one."

"Hmmm," mumbles Steve, chasing down his bite with his own sip of coffee. "That sounds familiar, but I'm just...I buy a lot of things for you, Buck. You'll have to be specific."

"You're doing this on purpose!"

"Yeah," agrees Steve. "Now tell me."

Bucky bites his full bottom lip, that stubborn streak manifesting as the cutest pout Steve's ever seen.

Fuck, but he has a soft spot for Bucky like no other.

Still, Bucky is also very determined when he wants something, and he doesn't disappoint Steve this morning. "Want to be your puppy today."

"Ohhh," says Steve, grinning wide. "I remember now. Thank you, baby. 'Course you can be my cute little puppy today."

"Thank you," he says roughly. "I've been thinking about it all week."

"Yeah? Well, I hope I can make it live up to all the dirty fantasies in your head."

Bucky nods. "You will. I know it."

Steve feels a deep swell of pride at those words, at Bucky's ongoing confidence in him despite the beginning of the week. He's lucky. And relieved.

"Okay, when you're all done with breakfast, go get cleaned up, and be thorough for me. Then you can meet me in the playroom at ten."

"Yes, sir," breathes Bucky, eyes already taking on that telltale sheen of his imagination running away with him.

Easy and sweet, that's his Bucky.

Steve cleans up in the kitchen when Bucky goes to follow his instructions, and after he's done, he makes his way to his own bathroom for a shower too. Then he pulls on a pair of comfortable sweats and a dark t-shirt, heading into the playroom to start setting up.

He hears when Bucky comes in and turns to see him, naked and damp from his shower, skin flushed from the heat of the water. "C'mere."

Bucky walks right up, allowing Steve to wrap his arms around him, palms sliding over Bucky's hips and taking handfuls of his sweet, luscious ass. "Hey."

"Hey," whispers Bucky, an eager smile tugging on his pink lips. "I really am excited to play again. I missed it."

"Me too, Buck. I'm looking forward to what a good boy I know you'll be," he says, pressing a kiss to Bucky's temple. "I promise not to interrupt the scene with reminders, but I need to do a quick check-in before we start. You remember what your safeword is now?"

Bucky wrinkles his nose. "Yes, it's red."

"Hey, don't look like that. I promise, you'll get used to it. It should feel good, okay? It means the person you're playing with—it means I care about you enjoying what I do with you."

"Always enjoyed it before," insists Bucky, that stubborn jut to his jaw making Steve want to kiss him and spank him all at once.

"Until it went wrong, right?" reminds Steve.

"Right," huffs Bucky, looking away. "Sorry."

Steve sighs and reaches up to grip Bucky's chin firmly, guiding his face up to look Steve in the eyes. "Hey, you know this is good, right? That I'm not upset we've added safewords? I'm happy you get to submit to me because you want to, every step of the way, and if you ever need to stop—want to stop, I'm happy you can."

Bucky chews on his lip some more but finally, he mumbles, "Okay."

"Good boy," praises Steve. "And today, we're going to use the gag because I know that's what you asked for, so you'll have the button I showed you before. I can trust you to remember you have it, right? You can do that for me?"

"Yes, Steve. I'll remember," says Bucky, finally smiling a little.

Steve kisses his temple again, hand brushing against Bucky's bare hip. "Okay, why don't you go ahead and get down on your hands and knees for me over the bench. It'll be easier to get you prepped on that."

Bucky bobs his head in a nod and scurries to the bench, kneeling down over it with a deep sigh. When he's settled, Steve begins to collect his supplies: the muzzle gag, a remote-controlled plug with a little curling tail attached, a leash, leather mittens, and bondage tape for Bucky's legs. He also selects a particularly restrictive cock ring, the button for the safeword, and a leather collar, carrying everything over to Bucky and setting it all down.

"You're going to be on your knees for this," says Steve, grabbing one of Bucky's ankle and folding his calf up against his thigh. "Like this. Can you do that? I'm going to help you with some restraints."

"Uh huh," groans Bucky, shivering. His cock is already getting hard against the padded bench. It'll be leaking onto the leather in no time.

With an indulgent smile, Steve starts to bind his legs.

Bucky is good for him, resting his cheek against the bench, trembling only slightly as Steve binds each of his legs with careful attention. "Feel good?"

"Uh huh," sighs Bucky, already deeply adrift.

Steve comes around and places the button carefully on his finger, curling his grip around the safeword device, before sliding the mitten over top, buckling it in place. He does the same with the other hand. "Look at you, already looking like such a sweet pup."

"Steve," whines Bucky, hips jerking against the leather.

"Shh, puppies can't talk." He picks up the muzzle and presses the gag inside to Bucky's lips, filling his mouth up and then buckling everything firmly in place. Bucky's eyes go especially heavy, staring at Steve like he holds the secrets of the universe. It's sweet. He really enjoys this version of Bucky.

He has to admit, Bucky already looks very delightful like this. "I'm going to have so much fun with my puppy today," sighs Steve, walking around to pick up the curled tail. He pours some lube directly onto Bucky's skin, watching him shiver as it drips down over his hole and perineum and balls. He presses a single finger in. "Such a tight little hole, too."

Bucky squeaks out a small sound, wriggling a little in place. With the height of the bench and his bound legs and mittened hands, he's stuck in place until Steve lifts him off. Steve enjoys himself as he leisurely stretches Bucky open on two fingers.

Bucky’s grunts are throaty, more muffled than usual under the heavy-duty gag, his eyes rolling up to lock with Steve’s as he writhes on his fingers. Slicking up the plug, Steve presses it to Bucky's exposed hole with firm pressure, Bucky panting and making small noises until the girth of the toy pops in past his rim and settles deep. Steve adjusts it, tweaking the tail, and then says, "Now that's cute. Turn your head, look."

Bucky obediently cranes his neck, the tops of his cheeks turning a deep red as he catches sight of the protrusion, Steve beaming at him. "Can my cute little pup wag his tail for me? Show me he's enjoying himself?"

With a whimper, Bucky waggles his backside from side to side as much as he can while straddling the bench. Steve praises him, ruffling his hair and patting his sides. "Good boy!"

Bucky whines, shuddering in place.

"Okay. I can't reach your cute little cock like this, so I'm going to help you off." Steve lifts Bucky bodily off the bench, setting him down on the carpet. Bucky trembles a little, but braces himself on his mittened hands as his knees touch the floor. Putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder, Steve gives him a firm push. "Rollover for me, pup. Show me your belly."

Bucky doesn't resist, rolling awkwardly onto his back for Steve, whining a little, his hands curling up toward his chest.

Steve tugs his cock where it's lying against his belly, rubbing precome along the length of it. "I didn't get you fixed," says Steve easily. "So I have to make sure you're not going to mount the furniture trying to get yourself off. This little dick need some restraint."

Bucky makes a punched-out sound, his eyes going wide and humiliated as Steve picks up the wicked-looking cock ring he chose. It's more like a series of cock rings, with a connecting ribbon of leather all down the underside, and because Bucky is already hard, Steve slicks it up first before he starts to work the rings down his shaft.

It's a slow, meticulous process, squeezing Bucky's cock into the series of rings, binding it up in a pretty little package. Bucky whimpers into his muzzle, squirming slightly, his bound legs useless for gaining any leverage. Steve slaps Bucky's balls, a quick smack that startles him still as he gasps. "Be good, pup, no need for you to behave like a little bitch in heat."

Bucky shakes his head, reaching up to cover his face with his paws, like he really is an embarrassed puppy who just got scolded for bad behavior. It makes Steve's own cock throb. Pet play was never his favorite, he never really saw the appeal, but with Bucky... He just does so well with any sort of humiliation, so eager for it.

"Shh, just be still." Steve works the rest of the rings into place, tucking Bucky's balls into the base and making sure all of the rings are snug but comfortable, nothing pinching inappropriately. Bucky's cock is gorgeous, all trussed up, hard and red, pressed against the tight rings. "Never saw such a pretty puppy as you," sighs Steve, stroking down his sides. He rubs at Bucky's tummy, just like he were a real dog. "There you go, a nice belly rub, hmm?"

Bucky whimpers but nods, spreading his legs even more.

"Yeah, and we can't forget the collar, can we?" asks Steve, reaching for the band of leather. Bucky watches with rapt attention as Steve brings it over. "After all, I need something to attach the leash to when I take my puppy on walks, don't I?"

Bucky moans deeply, his eyes glazing over as he stares up at Steve. His hips twitch, a bead of precome welling up at the tip of his bound cock. He definitely likes this.

"Yeah," croons Steve. He helps Bucky up, gets him kneeling up on his haunches, paws on the floor, before he says, "Chin up, little pup."

Bucky obediently raises his chin, bearing his throat eagerly for Steve, and he wraps the leather around the delicate length of his neck. Checking the fit, he buckles it on snugly, winding his finger through the ring and giving it a firm tug. "Feel good?"

Bucky nods, groaning. The black leather looks so good against his skin, and all dressed up like this, the effect is...very pleasing.

"Good boy," says Steve. He clips the leash to the d-ring and winds the handle around his wrist. "There's my sweet boy, all ready for me. You look so good, baby. You don't have a thing in your head right now, do you?" He cups Bucky's cheek. "So dumb."

Bucky mumbles something, a pitiful little rebuttal, and Steve grins widely. "See? Dumb. Trying to talk. Are you going to bark for me?"

Hurriedly shaking his head, Bucky’s flush creeps down to stain his chest while his cockhead leaks steadily.

Steve stands up, straightening fully, and pulls the leash taut. "Heel. Lets see how well you can walk on leash."

A squeak escapes Bucky as he stumbles forward, but he manages to balance himself, right at Steve's side. Steve starts forward, holding tight to the leash, giving Bucky no slack so that he has to keep his head upright as he crawls along, unused to walking on his knees like this.

Steve won't take him far, he doesn't want to hurt him, but he walks him out of the playroom and through the office, into the hall and to the living room. The whole way there he hears Bucky panting behind the muzzle, little whines as the plug no doubt presses and rubs with every step, as the cock rings keeps him tightly in check.

Steve sits down on the couch and pulls Bucky next to his feet. "No puppies on the furniture. You lay down and be a good boy."

He watches as Bucky awkwardly manages to curl up onto his side at Steve's feet, paws curled into his chest. His cute little cock is still leaking and messy, and Steve reaches down and slaps it. "Still making a mess I see."

Bucky jerks, eyes rolling back as he groans at the treatment, and Steve laughs softly, reaching up to rub Bucky's belly. "It's not your fault, I guess. You're just a dumb pup, huh? You can't help it. Poor thing."

Sitting back, Steve winds the leash around his wrist and sits back on the couch. "JARVIS, put that movie back on, the one I didn't finish watching last week."

"Of course, captain."

The TV turns on. Steve puts a socked foot on Bucky's side, absently petting him with it, and as the movie comes on, Steve pulls the remote out of his pocket and switches on the vibrator.

"Mmmggh!" cries Bucky, his entire body jolting under Steve's foot.

Steve raises an eyebrow and looks down at him, finds Bucky with his paws over his face, chest heaving as he huffs strained breaths through his muzzle.

Steve moves his foot, nudging it down at the base of Bucky's swollen cock. Bucky trembles, squeaking high and long. "What's the matter?" asks Steve. "I gave you a nice toy to keep you busy. Maybe we can play fetch later, but right now I'm busy."

Bucky makes a mournful noise, ass clenching around the plug, the tail wagging with the motion of his muscles. Steve's own cock swells at the sight of Bucky sprawled at his feet, helpless and shivering, stuffed and whimpering. "If I let you up here, you'll make a mess. Hush now."

With a deep sigh, Bucky settles, stomach muscles still quivering as the plug pulses on and off at its lowest setting, keeping Bucky from going numb to the sensation. The movie is fine, something mindless and easy to watch, and Steve sneaks many long glances at Bucky, who has his eyes closed, face half hidden by his paws. He's obviously not asleep, whining and squirming every time Steve bumps or brushes his cock "accidentally" as he rubs his belly with his foot.

Steve keeps it up, teasing and touching Bucky throughout the end of the movie. His own head feels blessedly quiet, free of the gnawing anxiety of the past week. Bucky is here, safe and sound, trusting Steve to make the decisions. None of the benefits of having Bucky seem to be dampened by the knowledge that he can safeword now.

He honestly shouldn't be surprised at all, though. Steve does know better, has participated in perfectly healthy scenes many times. It actually feels better, knowing Bucky could stop all this, but he doesn’t; he wants it, wants Steve to humiliate him and toy with him and turn him into a sweet puppy for Steve's amusement. He trusts Steve with seeing Bucky like this.

Fuck. His cock is heavy in his pants and he wants Bucky.

As the movie ends, he tugs on the leash. "What a good boy," murmurs Steve as Bucky lifts his head to look at him with wide, hazy blue eyes. "Such a pretty pup, laying there at my feet."

With deliberate attention, he presses his foot against Bucky's cock, not quite stepping on it but a firm weight. "This little cock just won't go down, will it? Maybe I should do something about that, help you out."

Bucky grunts, legs trying to close against the pressure on his cock, trying to hide it from view. Steve pushes a little harder. "Ah, ah, don't be a bad dog."

Bucky's face goes bright red and he shakes his head hurriedly, stilling himself. No, no, he's not a bad dog! Steve smiles.

He could get down on the floor with him, force Bucky to crawl over his hips and mount himself on Steve's cock without help. He can't use his hands to guide Steve inside him, and his legs are restrained in a way that would make it hard for Bucky to fuck himself...

Stretching, Steve slides off the couch to sit on the floor with his back against it. Legs outstretched, he pushes his sweats down just enough to tug his cock free. "That's what you want, isn't it?" asks Steve, stroking himself a little, then removes a condom from his pocket and rolls it on. All throughout, Bucky's attention is rapt on Steve fisting his dick.

"C'mere, then. Climb up on my lap."

With some difficulty, Bucky rolls onto his belly first, then props himself up and crawls over Steve's lap, huffing as he straddles his thighs. He looks expectantly at Steve, who reaches between Bucky's legs to tweak the plug. Bucky whines as Steve pulls it out, setting it carefully aside.

"Good boy," he encourages. "Come on. You want it? Then get it. Climb on."

Bucky whines uncertainly, craning his head as he tries to line himself up. All Steve does is grip the base of his own cock, holding the condom in place, but otherwise he lets Bucky lower his hips, and after a couple of false starts, he finds the right angle, Steve's cockhead pressed against his wet, open rim.

"Sit, puppy," Steve says firmly.

A long groan drags from Bucky as he sits back, Steve filling him up, stretching him wide. Steve hisses as the tight heat wraps around him, as he settles in. Bucky's legs being bound the way they are, it's nearly impossible now for him to rise back up. It's just him, sitting on Steve's dick. Bucky whimpers as he squirms, trying to rock, to get any leverage to move on Steve's cock.

"Aww, what's the matter? Can my dumb pup not even figure out how to fuck himself? After I gave him such a nice present, stuffed his greedy little hole so full," mutters Steve, reaching down to toy with Bucky's bound dick, rubbing just around the head, round and round in little circles while Bucky shakes and squeals, his hole quivering and squeezing around Steve.

Steve lets out a rough laugh. "Is it sensitive, puppy? You just don't know what to do about it, do you? A silly pet like you needs someone to look out for them, don't they?"

Bucky whines, pawing at Steve's shoulders.

"Uh huh," murmurs Steve, "C'mere."

He guides Bucky's arms around him, pulling him closer, Steve's own arms wrapping tightly around Bucky's back, holding him near while he brings his own knees up for leverage and starts to rock up. Bucky sobs in relief, nodding his head. It's not the best thrust he's ever given, but Steve manages a slow, shallow rock in and in and in again. It's intense and close and Steve's thighs and lower back and hips all ache.

But he keeps going.

"God, there you go, such a good little puppy for me, giving me a hot little hole to use," mutters Steve, lips pressed to Bucky's temple.

Bucky makes desperate, eager noises, clinging to Steve as best he can, whining and trembling in his lap as Steve uses every ounce of his hard-earned muscle to fuck up into Bucky, bouncing him on his cock.

When he can't take this position any longer, he tips Bucky onto his back, pinning him down and drilling into him, Bucky tightening up around him as Steve zeroes in on the right angle to hit his prostate. He'll give him a nice, painful orgasm, chase it with his own, and then plug him up again.

Bucky scrambles at his shoulders with his useless hands, mewling at the pressure and weight of Steve's cock inside him as Steve bends over and fucks into him.

It doesn't take long for Bucky to get close, letting out high, urgent cries as he tenses and finally clenches up tight and shudders into climax. Nothing comes out of him, his cock still red and swollen, but he collapses back, heaving out agonized breaths.

Steve isn't done yet, though, and he presses Bucky flat and keeps using his slack hole until he finds his own orgasm, coming with a low grunt as he nuzzles against Bucky's chest and bites down around his right nipple.

Bucky makes a pained sound, but he stays there, lax and spread open for Steve. His paws are sprawled on either side of his head and his legs are hanging open, bound up tight still. Steve allows himself the luxury of grinding his softening cock into Bucky's hole, chasing one last crest of pleasure. It shivers through him, too much and so good. He tugs at Bucky's nipple with his teeth again and then finally pushes himself up.

"Go on, back on your feet. Put that pretty hole in the air for me."

Bucky whines, eyes fluttering. Steve ties off the condom and gets up to throw it in the wastebasket. When he returns, he gives Bucky a nudge with his foot, pushing him over onto his belly. "Come on, puppy. It's not nap time."

Bucky, who is apparently always just a little bit of a brat even when he's just been fucked through a dry orgasm and is tied up like a dog, lazily stretches out before finally dragging his knees underneath him and rolling his spine.

Steve gives him a rough swat right over his exposed, wet hole. "That's what you get," he says, as Bucky cries out in protest. "Now hold still."

He takes the leash in one hand and the plug in the other, holding the leash tight while he works the plug back into place. When he stands, he gives the leash another little tug. "Come on, back to the playroom."

Bucky follows next to him, just a little less coordinated than before, and very adorable. As they pass through the office, Steve scoops up the newspaper from yesterday, and then he kicks up the level of vibrations just to watch him stumble as they make it into the playroom.

"I just don't know what to do with you," sighs Steve. "I give you treats, give you toys, give you my cock in your hole, and you still just want more."

Bucky whines pitifully, shaking his head.

"Hush," says Steve. "I can see I've been too lenient. Shouldn't let you shake or nod your head. Shouldn't let you think about doing anything but obeying me. Gonna have to take you to puppy obedience classes, aren't I? Bet they wouldn't even take you, though. Too rebellious."

Bucky shakes his head again. Sighing heavily, Steve rolls up the newspaper and swats him on the ass.

It's not particularly painful, probably just a sharp sting, but the effect is good, Bucky flinching and whining in embarrassment at the idea of being hit with a newspaper while Steve talks about how poorly he's trained. Steve huffs theatrically, tapping the newspaper against his hand as he looks around.

The idea hits him as he catches sight of the blanket-covered box in the corner and he breaks into a wide grin. Bucky notices, his eyes wide as he makes a questioning noise.

"You must be tired and cranky," Steve decides. "Naughty puppies need naps, huh?"

He sets the newspaper down and strides across the room, pulling the blanket off the cage with a flourish. "Of course, puppies need a nice comfy crate to feel safe, don't they. Come." Steve points to the floor at his feet, and Bucky crawls over to him, his eyes huge as Steve gets down on the floor next to him to open the cage.

It fits a fully grown man just barely; Steve can fit inside with a lot of wriggling, so it should be slightly more comfortable for Bucky, who has narrower shoulders. There's a soft pad inside lining the bottom.

"In you go," says Steve, patting Bucky hard on the flank. “I'll give you a toy, don't worry."

Bucky slinks inside, curling into a tight little ball and fixing Steve with pleading eyes. Steve allows it, though, just smiles and picks up a little squeaky bone off the floor where it was lying next to the cage. He puts it in with Bucky, shutting and padlocking the door.

Bucky makes a muffled sound, as if he’s trying to speak, and Steve lifts an eyebrow at him.

And then, cheeks turning a deep crimson, Bucky lets out what must be an attempted bark. God, Steve appreciates him.

"That’s good, but it’s too little too late. Now lay down and take a nap. I’ll be right out in my office, taking care of a few things. You’ll be fine." Then he takes the cage cover and places it over Bucky. "Sleep tight, puppy."

Steve walks out, hearing Bucky’s mournful little cry as he goes. He flicks off the light and walks out to his office. He doesn’t shut the door, making sure that he can hear Bucky, and knowing that Bucky will hear him as he opens his laptop and begins checking his email.

He wastes time answering urgent to semi-urgent inquiries, goes over a couple of designs, and shoots a few emails to his accountant to verify recent purchases.

Finally after about half an hour, he murmurs softly, "Is he asleep, JARVIS?"

"It would seem so, captain."

Steve sits back in his chair, stretching luxuriously.

Bucky fell asleep. Felt safe enough, comfortable enough, to fall asleep, despite the cramped quarters and tight bondage.

God, he really loves him.

Or, not love—not love—but Steve is...fond, undeniably fond. Steve scrubs a hand over his face and stands up, shaking his head. He goes back into the playroom as quietly as possible, tugging the blanket off.

Bucky doesn't wake up, eyes closed, breathing softly through his nose, his paws tucked up under his head. He's painfully adorable.

Steve sits down on the floor in front of the cage and takes out the remote for the plug. He dials it up to the lowest setting, watching as Bucky's breathing hitches a little, but he otherwise doesn't react. With the next setting, he shifts, and Steve sees that his cock, gone soft while he slept, is now plumping up again. Colour creeps into his skin, and he makes a tiny, sleepy noise, though he doesn't wake.

Steve cranks it up again, and Bucky squirms, moaning in his sleep. His mittened hands push down to his bound cock, his brow furrowing, sweat breaking out over his skin. For a little while, Steve lets him writhe on this setting, before raising it again, and Bucky cries out, a well-muffled "unh!" as his hips jerk, eyes popping open, sleepy and confused. His cock is fully hard again, dripping against his thigh, and Steve smiles at him through the cage.

"Wakey wakey," he croons, thumbing up the vibrator to rip a shriek out of Bucky.

Bucky squirms desperately, his hips jerking against his mittened paw. "Aww, does my puppy need something?"

Bucky whines again, looking helplessly at Steve. Steve looks back, carefully maintaining a neutral expression. There’s a moment of sleepy confusion and then that deep blush steals over Bucky again.

He barks.

"Oh yeah? What do you need, baby. Tell me," encourages Steve.

There’s a slight hitch of his breath and then he barks again and again. Barkbarkbark, muffled and sweet.

"Aww, I’m sorry. Your sore little cock needs attention? Okay, good boy," says Steve. He reaches up and carefully opens up the cage and reaches in to help Bucky crawl his way out.

"Now, wait," he commands, holding up his hand. "Okay, sit."

Bucky sits.

"Speak."

Bucky blushes deeper still, tears prickling his eyes, but he barks.

"Good boy," praises Steve, ruffling Bucky's hair affectionately. "Come sit in my lap, baby. There we go."

Bucky crawls forward, settling down facing Steve, red-faced and desperate, his cock jutting up miserably between them. Steve wraps his hand around it, jerking slowly, over the rings, and Bucky groans low and shudders, his paws pressing insistently against Steve's shoulders.

"Easy," soothes Steve, working the rings off one by one as he slides them up and pops them over the swollen head of Bucky's cock. Bucky arches his spine, stock-still and trembling, whining at the friction. Steve keeps going, until Bucky's cock is free of constraint, and he wraps his hand firm around him, jacking him from base to tip.

Bucky sobs, panting raggedly, and Steve obliges by working him harder, single-minded in his quest to make him come, to take the edge off, and Bucky loses himself in it, head tossed back, making high, involuntary noises until he finally tenses up and spills hot over Steve's fist. Steve milks him thoroughly, until Bucky shudders and drops his head to Steve's shoulder, his cries more distressed, and Steve release his spent cock, wiping his come all over Bucky's heaving belly.

"Good," praises Steve, kissing Bucky's hair. "Good boy, so well behaved for me. You walked so well on leash, you learned all your commands and tricks... You must be hungry. Does my sweet pup want something nice to eat?"

Bucky nods weakly, making a vaguely affirmative noise. Helping him out of Steve's lap, Steve rises to his feet and tugs on the leash, walking him to the kitchen. Bucky's going to be exhausted soon, so this is probably as far as Steve will take it, but he wants to see the look on Bucky's face.

Leaving Bucky on the kitchen floor, Steve gets a bowl, fills it up with cereal, adds a little milk, and then sets it down on the floor in front of him. Then he crouches down and unbuckles the muzzle, easing it off Bucky's face.

Bucky stares at him, stunned, his jaw slack.

"Well?" says Steve, pointing at the bowl. "What are you waiting for?" Bucky gives him a truly spectacular pout. "You don't want to eat off the floor?"

Bucky pouts some more, shaking his head.

Steve heaves a very put upon sigh. "Well, if you absolutely won't." He turns to get the scissors from the knife block. "Hey JARVIS, food about here?"

"It should arrive in about five minutes, sir."

"Great," says Steve, and then he kneels down, snipping the tape on Bucky's legs carefully. He peels it free on both sides before he works out the plug and then unbuckles the mittens and frees Bucky's hands. "You think you can manage to go take a super fast shower and throw on some PJs? I'll handle lunch."

Bucky nods, apparently still not up to speaking yet. Steve helps him up off the floor, making sure he's steady after hours spent on his knees. Bucky winces a bit but shakes his head when Steve moves to check on him.

Still mute, though.

Steve hurries to deposit the toys in the playroom to clean later and then washes his hands. The food shows up right on time, and Steve accepts the steaming, fragrant tray from the delivery guy and puts it on the counter. Bucky reappears shortly thereafter and he lights up when he sees everything.

"Hope you're okay with lasagna," says Steve.

"Yeah, this is great. Thank you, Steve," says Bucky, finally breaking his silence. He's still all soft and sleepy eyed, and he walks right into Steve and kisses his cheek, like he belongs there.

Steve loops an arm around Bucky's waist and then kisses his lips in return. "You were so good for me today. I just wanted you to have a special treat."

"Thank you," says Bucky, shy and pleased, leaning comfortably into Steve.

They take the food into the living room, and Bucky tucks himself into Steve's side as they eat and watch TV. He dozes a little after he's devoured two heaping portions, head tipped onto Steve's chest, and Steve puts his arms around him and holds him, lips pressed to his soft hair as he breathes in the scent of his shampoo.

He's one lucky asshole.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

Sunday morning comes and Bucky stretches leisurely, slowly realizing Steve isn't in bed with him. His heart hammers a little. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Where's Steve?"

"At the gym, Mr. Barnes. He wanted you to know he will return by 7:30, but he's happy to come back early if you desire. Do you need anything?"

"No, that's okay. Just checking," he says, feeling a little silly. Steve wouldn't leave him by himself all day on a Sunday. It's only just after seven. Steve probably thought he would sleep later; he usually does. Yawning, he sits up and goes to the bathroom, washing up before he heads to the kitchen.

"JARVIS, can you ask Steve if he wants sweet or savory for breakfast?"

After a minute, JARVIS says, "Captain Rogers says he's happy with either, but if you want him to decide: savory."

"Thanks," he mutters, smiling to himself. He appreciates the way Steve does that. He glances at the time on the microwave again and decides to keep it simple today. He turns on the coffee maker and then starts on eggs over medium, bacon, and toast with butter and jam.

He's plating the bacon on a plate lined with paper towel when Steve comes in. He looks freshly showered, having used the gym's facilities, and he's wearing a soft gray henley with comfortable looking jeans. "That smells so good, Buck. Thank you for cooking."

"You're welcome," says Bucky happily.

Steve heads to the laundry room, presumably to drop off his gym bag, and then reappears to pour himself a cup of coffee. "I thought maybe, if you're up to it, we could take advantage of the slightly warmer weather this weekend and go for a walk in the park."

"By ‘slightly warmer’ I assume you mean above zero," Bucky says smartly, sliding a spatula under the last couple of eggs and plating them up. He adds a stack of the bacon and two wedges of toast before setting it down in front of Steve. He grins. "I could go for a walk."

They put on cozy sweaters and jackets, wrapping up in soft, warm scarves. Steve's place is steps from Central Park and Steve offers his arm as they stroll through the winding paths, across the trickling creek still partially frozen, before stopping on a bridge that overlooks Bucky's favorite spot in the park. They don't talk much the whole time and Bucky feels warm against Steve's side. He leans his head against Steve's shoulder, watching a flock of ducks gather around a group of tourists throwing bird feed.

The wind is chilly, leaving Bucky's cheeks tingly and making his eyes sting, but he doesn't mind because Steve wraps his arm around Bucky's waist and holds him close. "Thank you for being with me, Buck."

"Yeah," sighs Bucky. "Thanks for wanting me with you. I'm glad, you know? That...you don't have to be alone and neither do I, now."

Steve smiles at him. "I'm glad, too. I definitely got more than I bargained for with you."

Bucky huffs, looking back out at the lake. What kind of bargain could he possibly be? The new addendum gives him nearly all the power in their arrangement and he can't think about that for very long. It makes him feel...he's not sure. It doesn't matter. He's not going to leave until he gives Steve what he paid for. "I hope...you don't regret offering me the contract?"

"No, not at all," says Steve immediately. He reaches out and grasps Bucky's chin gently, turning his face toward Steve. "I am very happy with our arrangement, okay? You’re just what I needed."

"Okay, good," he says, biting his lip. Then, for something else to talk about, he says, "I'm hungry."

Steve laughs. "You're a bottomless pit."

"I'm sorry!" he exclaims, letting a bit of a whine into his voice. "I burn a lot of energy, okay? It's not my fault."

"Uh huh, alright, Hungry, let's get you something to eat."

They stop for big, fragrant chocolate croissants and steaming coffees, snacking happily as they head back to the penthouse. Bucky feels light, happy.

It's a slow, quiet afternoon. Steve makes chilli and baked potatoes for lunch and they eat it at the kitchen island while they talk about yesterday's scene. After, Steve brings his tablet to the den and Bucky joins him with a book from the library, curling against his side as he reads and occasionally responds to texts from Becca.

Becca: We're still good for tomorrow, right?
Bucky: Yes, for the fifth time! Wouldn't miss it!
Becca: I'm just checking! Just in case things were still tense with Steve or something...
Bucky: No, everything's been fine with Steve. It was just a misunderstanding on Monday night. I told you.
Becca: yeah, sure. You just seemed...really worried and anxious.
Bucky: because we'd JUST had a fight.
Becca: alright, well, 9 AM, my place! I'll have breakfast waiting for you when you get here, okay?
Bucky: <3 see you then!

Bucky frowns at his phone. Getting Becca back is a dream come true, but she's been even more suspicious of his relationship with Steve ever since he called her on Monday night.

Not that he regrets calling her, because he doesn't. He just wishes he could make her understand that everything really is okay now. It’s not like he was ever afraid of Steve, anyway. He’s never been afraid of Steve. He’s an asshole, sure, but not one that throws up a million red flags like some of the creeps who used to hit on him at bars.

Steve is just...exacting. He likes what he likes and doesn’t like to compromise—or so Bucky thought. The addendum to the contract seems to indicate otherwise, now.

He tucks his phone into his pocket and continues reading, leaning into Steve's warmth and spicy scent.

They have leftover chilli for dinner, smothered in cheese and sour cream, and then they put on a movie and doze on the couch until it's time for bed.

In the morning, Steve wakes him with a kiss on the cheek and tells him to have a good day, no question about what he's doing or instructions other than to feel free to call if he needs anything. Bucky yawns and stretches. "Mmm, okay. Have a good day, too."

"Bye, Buck," murmurs Steve. When he disappears from view, Bucky can hear him talking quietly to JARVIS about getting maintenance in to look at a dripping faucet and then he leaves for the day.

Bucky's stomach swoops a little at the odd realization that he's completely on his own today. It's not a bad feeling, really, but it is weird after weeks of relying on Steve to make every little decision for him. And he does like that; likes being able to just be, to exist and not have to think every second about his survival, about what comes next.

It's good, though, to have this, too.

"JARVIS, what time is it?"

"The time is 7:30 AM, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky yawns again but eventually he gets up and heads for the bathroom to get ready for the day. After his shower (probably hotter than Selene would approve of but it feels so good!), he dresses himself in the most comfortable pair of jeans he owns, a plain black t-shirt, and a thick, soft hoodie. He doesn't bother to style his hair, either, because the plan today is mostly to hang out in Becca's apartment, have breakfast and lunch together, and just talk.

They've been texting pretty much nonstop for the past week, sometimes about dumb things like Becca complaining about homework or the hot girl who doesn't realize she exists, and sometimes about serious things: memories they've both been questioning their whole life only to finally get validation. Bucky is excited to be able to sit with her in the same room again.

Becca got roped into filling in for another TA at a lab session that night from six to nine, so they won't be having dinner, but Bucky's not mad about it. They've got their whole life ahead of them, now.

He takes the subway to Becca's, wishing he'd worn a coat on top of his hoodie. It's returned to the normal February chill after the unseasonable high, and he's shivering by the time he presses the buzzer next to her apartment number.

Her voice comes out crackly from the metal speakerbox. "Who is it?"

"Hey, it's Bucky."

It buzzes in response and Bucky pulls the door open and starts up the steps to her floor.

He's only a little out of breath when he hits the fifth floor, so he guesses the regular workouts (both in and out of the penthouse, heh) have been paying off. He taps lightly on Becca's door and it swings open, revealing Becca's grinning face. They hesitate a half second but then they're both wrapping each other in a huge hug.

"I missed you!" declares Becca, dragging him in and closing the door.

"We've talked every day!" says Bucky, laughing happily. "But I missed you, too."

Becca steps back from him, studying him intensely, her eyes sweeping over every inch she can see, searching his face. "I want to see you more often. Talking isn't enough. I need to lay eyes on you!"

"Oh my god, okay!" he sighs, but he's secretly pleased. Is this what family is? Is this what having a sister feels like? Someone who wants you around, who loves you and misses you? "We could do lunch or something. I just uh, have to check my schedule. I don't know what Steve has planned, and—"

"Ugh, do you have to ask him to take a piss? Little controlling, isn't he?" she asks, eyes narrowed.

"No!" says Bucky, but his cheeks burn. He can't explain to his sister that he likes when Steve tells him what to do, that he asks for that. His choice, if he's forced to make one, is not to make choices at all. "It's not...He doesn't care if I want to come see you. I can come whenever I want, but I don't want to double book myself and we have plans a lot in the evenings and weekends."

Becca sniffs, but seems to accept that, shifting topics. "Well, my floor is doing a potluck on Thursday night. Everyone is cooking something, and I thought you could come and...I could introduce you to my friends."

"Oh." Bucky swallows against the lump suddenly in his throat. Becca wants to introduce him to her friends. "Um, yeah, that sounds...are you sure? You don't think it'll be awkward? 'My long lost twin'?"

"I'm sure," says Becca, nodding her head once. "You're my brother and I would scream it from the mountain tops if I could."

Bucky’s eyes prickle with tears (dammit, Bucky, don't be such a crybaby) and he sniffles a bit. "Okay, yeah, same. I'll make sure I'm free."

Steve will understand, right? He's been so generous lately, giving Bucky the day off and making sure he feels safe and free to make his own choices—even if that is just choosing to submit to Steve. Bucky doesn't want to take advantage, though, or make Steve feel like he has to give into Bucky or else Bucky will just leave. That's not what Bucky wants either.

"C'mon, I'm gonna make us omelettes. Sound good?" says Becca, beckoning for Bucky to follow her.

"Yeah, that sounds great. Also please tell me you have coffee. I'm going to die." He follows her, sitting at the stool by the kitchen window into the living room. He gets out his phone while Becca starts pulling things from the fridge.

"Of course I have coffee. Cream and sugar?"

"Please," he says, pulling open the messaging app.

Bucky: Hey, Becca wants me to come over to her place for dinner on Thursday night. I told her I might be busy though so it's okay if you have plans for us!!

He watches the screen a little, but the message doesn't immediately flip to 'read' so Bucky can only assume Steve is busy. He tucks his phone away and gives his full attention to Becca.

She pours him a cup of coffee, fixing it for him and setting it on the counter in front of him. "So, what do you want in your omelette? Anything you hate or can I make it the works?"

"The works is perfect," says Bucky.

They chat while Becca is cooking and around the time she plates up the food and sits next to him, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Steve: Sure. Anytime you want to go see your sister, the answer is always yes, just let me know when and where.
Bucky: :) thank you!!
Steve: You're welcome.

He looks up to Becca staring at him and he puts his phone away again, squirming. "What?"

"Nothing," she says, shrugging. "Was that him? Checking in on you?"

"No, Becca, he was not checking on me. He was confirming that there were no plans on Thursday and I can go to your thing," he says. "I wish you wouldn't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Suspicious of him. He's not a bad guy."

"Well! What am I supposed to think after you called me in hysterics and asked if I would still be okay with you coming to stay with me? Because he might kick you out for a fight you never did explain!"

"And then I said it was fine! And it is fine. Come on, please, I don't want to talk about this. I just got you back. Please, Becca?" He gives her his best pout.

Becca rolls her eyes. "That doesn't work on me because I make the same face, but fine. I'll…let it go for now. But just know I'm here for you if you need anything at all. I will punch a rich guy in the face, I don't care."

Bucky can't help the laugh that spills out of him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

They spend the rest of the day together until Becca has to leave for the class she's teaching. She hugs Bucky goodbye and makes him promise to text her when he gets home.

Bucky leaves, but instead of heading straight home, he goes to the corner market, picking up some groceries. He wants to cook dinner tonight for himself and Steve. Even though it's his night off still, he can't think of anything else he'd rather do than watch Netflix and eat tomato soup and grilled cheese with Steve.

When Thursday arrives, Bucky sort of feels like he's bouncing off the walls. He texts Becca a million times about the potluck and if baked mac 'n' cheese is still okay to bring (it's great!) and if she's still sure she wants him to come (yes! she's still sure!!). It doesn't start until six, so he's just taking the casserole dish out of the oven when he hears Steve get home.

"Smells delicious," says Steve, walking into the kitchen. He leans into Bucky's space and Bucky automatically tips his cheek up for Steve to kiss.

"Thanks," says Bucky, fussing with the fancy carrying cozy the dish came with that keeps it nice and warm. Steve bought it for him specifically to bring to the potluck. ("They're just college kids, Steve! They don't care if I use disposable baking trays!" "So? I'm not a college kid and I care if you have something nice that won't fold in half while you're trying to carry it and spill everywhere. You're working hard on this.")

"Leaving soon?" Bucky can feel Steve's gaze on him, watching as he tucks everything neatly in place and then finally takes off his apron.

"Yes, I decided to take you up on your offer to let Clint drive me." He puts his apron into its drawer and turns to Steve. "Why, was traffic bad?"

"No more than usual. If you leave in fifteen minutes, you should have plenty of time." Steve reaches out and hooks his finger through one of Bucky's belt loops and tugs him close. "You look nice."

Bucky feels heat pool in his stomach automatically at the timbre of Steve's voice, the proprietary way he touches him. He's breathless when he answers, "I want to make a good impression."

"'Course you will," Steve says easily. "You're very likeable, Buck."

"I don't know about that." Hopefully, he doesn't sound as whiny as he feels.

"Well, I like you."

"It doesn't count when you say it. You get to fuck me on a regular basis. You sorta have to like me."

Steve lets out a surprised laugh. "Is that right?"

"Well, otherwise, you're the real masochist, paying this much money for someone you don't even like," Bucky says smartly. Steve pinches his ass in retaliation and Bucky squeals and squirms in his grip. "Hey! I'm leaving soon!"

"Mmm, so you are," sighs Steve. He leans in, tipping Bucky's chin up, and presses a kiss to his mouth. Bucky melts into it. "Be good. Text me when you're on your way home. If it's past ten, take a cab or call the towncar service."

He nearly rolls his eyes at the overprotective schtick, but it's kind of nice. He'd never admit that to Steve, though. "Yes, sir."

Steve smiles and then steps back. "Unless you get in past midnight, I should probably still be up. I'm working on a final draft for a project."

"You're spending all night working?" Bucky thought Steve would take the opportunity to go hang out with his friends or something.

"Sadly," confirms Steve. "Things are pretty busy at work right now, will be for the foreseeable future, but don't worry about it. Have fun with your sister."

"Okay." He puts on his coat and mittens and scarf, grabs his mac 'n' cheese, and heads to the elevator. "Bye!"

Bucky finds Clint in the lobby and he slides into the backseat of the towncar. They make it in plenty of time, and he texts Becca when they're around the corner, so she's waiting for him at the entrance when he gets there.

She gives him a quick hug and then leads the way to the elevator. "My thighs are killing me. I've been up and down the stairs like ten times today. We're taking the elevator."

"Fine by me. How was your day?"

"Not bad. I did have to explain to a student why attending lab is mandatory to pass the lab section of the class, but otherwise pretty good. Looking forward to tonight. Can't wait for you to meet everyone." Becca grins at him.

"Yeah," he says, nervous butterflies bouncing endlessly in his stomach. "How many people are gonna be at this thing?"

She shrugs. "Well, it's a potluck for the whole floor, but some people never join and others might float in and out depending on if they have their own stuff going on tonight. But at least ten people are making food."

"Oh, great." Bucky can't decide if his nerves for the gala were any better than what he feels right now. Hard to say.

"Don't look like that. You're gonna do great. The ones who show up at stuff like this are all really friendly, and a lot of them are my friends. They'll be nice, I swear."

Bucky nods and follows her off the elevator to the community space where everyone seems to be setting up.

And mostly, Becca's right. They're all perfectly polite. He meets so many people, and only remembers like three of their names: Becca's roommate, Hildy, and their nextdoor neighbors, Kamala and Monica.

No one is weird about the whole missing twin thing, though there is understandable curiosity, and people even really love his mac 'n' cheese. All-in-all, Bucky only wants to hide in the bathroom twice the whole night.

By the end, though, he's grateful to get to go home to Steve's nice, quiet penthouse. Maybe he's already spoiled (he definitely is), but listening to people stomping around on the floor above Becca's is starting to give him a headache.

"You sure you can't stay?" she asks as Bucky helps her clean up.

"I'm sure. Kind of want to sleep in my own bed tonight," he admits. Well...Steve's bed.

Becca makes a face but doesn't comment. "Fine, you're taking the subway back?"

Bucky bites his lip. "No, Steve asked me to get a ride if it was past ten."

"Oh my god!" she bursts out. "That's stupid. You're twenty three. Twenty four next month! He's not your dad. Even my par—I mean my adoptive parents, even they don't—"

"You don't have to correct yourself like that," Bucky interrupts quietly. "They raised you. They're your parents. It's fine. I know it's not like you forget about our mom and dad."

"Yeah," she agrees quietly. "I guess. I just feel bad because you were—you never got to have that."

"No, I didn't, but you don't have to feel sorry for me. And no, Steve is not my dad. He's just being nice, Becca."

"Controlling," she mutters.

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, I don't want to have this conversation," he says, quickly shifting the topic with a smile. "Thanks for having me over. It was a lot of fun."

"Yeah, any time, Bucky," says Becca, giving him a matching smile. "Love you."

"Love you, too. Night."

Bucky thinks Clint is off for the night and he has no idea who covers at 11:00 PM on a Thursday, so he opts to take a Lyft instead of call the towncar service, grateful when they don't ask him a lot of questions. He doesn't think he can handle talking to any more strangers tonight. He texts Steve once they pull away from the curb.

Bucky: On my way
Steve: I'm in the office if you want, but if you're too tired, you can go to bed.

When he gets back to the penthouse, he strips his coat and scarf off, drops the dish off in the kitchen, and then goes straight to Steve's office. Steve looks up from the tablet he's sketching on as soon as he comes in. He flicks his gaze over Bucky's face and then silently opens his arms. Bucky could honestly cry he's so relieved.

He walks right up to him, sighing as Steve wraps his arms around him tightly. "Long night?"

"Yes." He closes his eyes and breathes in Steve's cologne. As nice as being invited was, and meeting all Becca's friends, he's completely exhausted now.

"You want me to take care of you?"

Bucky lets out a shuddering breath. "Yeah."

"Okay, baby, I've got you," murmurs Steve, abandoning whatever he was working on and taking Bucky to bed.

——STEVE——

Two weeks sail by with their new routine established, and Steve breathes easier.

He knows they both feel happier and more settled and they haven't had any misunderstandings since they juggled their rules around.

Steve is sitting at his desk on a Wednesday, reading over some files with his glasses perched on the end of his nose, when America's voice comes through the intercom.

"Your two o'clock is here, Cap," she announces. "Rebecca Proctor, NYU. She's got a proposal to present on behalf of the biology department?"

"Yeah," says Steve. It was a last minute addition from last week, but it's exactly the kind of project Tony has been bugging him to pick up to fill out the latest round of funding grants. "Send her in, I'm ready for her."

The door opens and America leans in, guiding through a tall young woman with dark brown hair and striking grey-blue eyes. She's wearing a pinstripe suit and she strides up to Steve's desk with fire in her eyes.

"Captain Rogers," she says, holding her hand out over the desk. He rises, shaking her hand and hiding a wince at the strength of her grip. "Rebecca Proctor."

"Have we...met?" he asks, taking off his glasses as she releases his hand. "During an event, maybe? You look..."

It hits him, then, because she's frowning, a sullen expression that he'd recognize anywhere; same eyes, same mouth, same chin. Same build, even, and height.

Steve’s entire life flashes in front of his eyes.

"Yeah," she says flatly, sitting down with her arms crossed.

"Becca," he says faintly, sinking into his seat. "I presume?"

"Yes," she answers. She meets his gaze squarely and juts out her chin. "So you are him, then. You're that Steve."

"If you mean the Steve your brother is involved with, then yes," he says evenly. "Is this meeting purposeful, or is it just a happy coincidence?"

"A little of both, I guess," she admits. "Our project lead already applied for a Stark grant months ago. When we got the call from your office last week and I saw your name... I put two and two together. I volunteered to meet with you."

"Alright, you're here now, in my office. Should we get business out of the way first? I assume your project would still like funding?" Steve flips open the proposal folder.

Becca crosses her arms. "You can't buy me off. I'm not alone and desperate."

Steve works very hard not to sigh. "I'm not trying to buy you off. I wasn't aware there was anything I needed to buy you off from. You were invited here to begin with because we identified your project as something we're interested in. Your study was thoroughly vetted before you ever made it to my office. This meeting is merely a formality. So, why don't we get that formality out of the way?"

Becca's gaze is razor-sharp, fixed on his face, but she seems to conclude it's not worth risking this grant, even if it doesn't seem to be her priority at the moment. "Fine," she says shortly. "Yes, our project still wants funding."

"Done," says Steve, signing the bottom of the forms. "I'll have America make a copy for you to bring back to NYU and I'll send a digital proof as well. Funds will be released to the previously-provided account in three to five business days."

"Thank you," she says tightly.

"You're welcome," says Steve. "What else can I do for you?"

"I dunno yet," says Becca. "I wanted to meet you, get a feel for exactly the kind of scumbag I think you are."

Ouch. Steve winces, sitting back in his chair rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And what vibe are you getting?" he asks wearily.

"Rich playboy," says Becca promptly. "Who else would take advantage of a lonely, struggling kid with no money and no prospects and then con him into essentially becoming a sex worker?"

"Okay,” Steve says slowly. “First, while I wouldn't exclusively categorize our arrangement as sex work, there's also nothing wrong with it. Fair wage for honest work."

"Congratulations, you took a feminist theory course in undergrad," she snaps. "But last I checked, prostitution is still illegal in the state of New York."

"Second of all," he continues, forcing himself not to get angry. She's worried about Bucky. That's fair. Bucky is easy to mistake for a small woodland creature with those big eyes of his. "I don't pay him for sex. I pay him for other, perfectly legal services. Finally, I didn't con him into anything. He entered into it with eyes wide open."

"You told him you're going to pay his college tuition next year!" scoffs Becca. "Will it always be 'next year' if he stays a little longer, does what you want for just another couple months? Until you get tired of him and then it was all a misunderstanding? Or maybe you just pretend you never met him to begin with?"

"That would be pretty difficult, considering he has a signed contract stating the terms of our agreement and guaranteeing him many things, not just the college tuition." Steve takes a breath, rubbing his forehead for a moment.

"Bullshit. Did he have his own lawyer look at this contract? I'm sure he didn't, since there's no way he could afford one. How many loopholes did you leave yourself to wiggle out of it? I want to see it," she demands.

"No," he says calmly. "I've given you enough information without Bucky's express permission to do so, and only because you seem to have most of it anyway, albeit put together to form the wrong picture. I'm perfectly happy to give you any other information you'd like, if he agrees to share it."

"Oh, and I'm sure he won't, will he! Because you'll threaten him or hurt him or worse!" Becca leans forward, eyes harsh.

Jesus. Is she...actually accusing Steve of abusing Bucky? "I don't know what you think is going on, but I would never harm him. I care a hell of a lot for Bucky, but I get it. You just got him back and I'm a stranger with a lot of influence in his life. You want to keep him safe. However, I'm not going to show you anything without his permission or continue to talk about him like he's not perfectly capable of participating in this discussion. You want more, then please join us for dinner tonight. At my home."

Becca looks taken aback by the offer, narrowing her eyes at Steve. "You want me to come to dinner?" she asks flatly.

"You want me to prove myself," says Steve, shrugging. "You're not going to believe a thing I say unless you see for yourself, and I refuse to show you anything unless Bucky's okay with it. Would he be happy you're doing this? Or would he be embarrassed?"

Becca purses her lips, scowling at Steve. God, they look so alike. Genes are an incredible thing. Steve's definitely seen this exact expression on Bucky's face. "I'd rather upset him once and help him out of a tight spot than turn a blind eye to this."

Steve takes a deep breath, turning things over in his mind. The day Bucky went to see Becca and they had their fight, Bucky went to his room and told Steve he wanted to speak to someone else. There's no question in his mind; he called Becca, because he had no one else. He doesn't know what exactly Bucky told her, but it couldn't have made him sound particularly good.

And whose fault is that?

"I know why you don't trust me," says Steve. "But if you haven't gotten the details out of Bucky, then you're not going to get them out of me. You either come to dinner, or we end this meeting like professionals and you and I go our separate ways. It's not how I would have liked to meet you, I'll be honest."

"You're not his boyfriend," says Becca. "He said that to me himself. This isn't a meet the family situation, Captain Rogers. I think you're taking advantage of my brother."

"I understand. Do you like Italian food?"

Becca blinks. "Yeah. Sure. Why not?" She laughs scornfully. "I'll come to dinner."

"Good," he says, reaching for a post-it note on his desk. He scribbles his address on it and hands it over. "I'll let lobby concierge know to expect you. My private elevator is run by Stark tech. Just give your name when you're shown to it and it will bring you to my floor."

"Your private elevator," she mutters, taking the post-it. "Fine. What time should I show up? Formal attire only?"

"God, you two really are alike when you've got a bee in your bonnet. Six thirty, please. And casual is just fine. We usually dress down in the evenings unless we're going out. Do you want to tell Bucky you're coming or should I?"

She chews on her lip a bit and says, "You may as well, since you invited me. I'm sure I'll hear from him."

"Fine. I intend to tell him everything we discussed."

"So do I," she snaps back.

Taking a calming breath, Steve rises. "I'll show you out, then, Ms. Proctor."

Steve shows her out, making sure everything is good to go with the grant. And once Becca is gone he says, "Cancel the remainder of my day, America. I need to go home. Personal matter to attend to."

"Of course, Captain. There was nothing important on the books anyway."

Steve nods and then shoots a quick text to Bucky to tell him that he's on his way home early.

"Hey," Bucky says, when Steve gets in, lifting his head from his laptop where he's sprawled on the couch. "Is everything okay?"

Steve sighs, flopping down beside him. "I don't know. I think so? But your sister came to see me today."

"What?!" Bucky shoves his laptop aside, sitting up quickly, his eyes wide. "She came to see you? How? Why?"

"I'm funding a project for NYU," says Steve. "She volunteered to be the point of contact when she saw I was in charge of the grant proposal. I guess it wasn't very difficult to work out who I was, from whatever you two have discussed. Which is fine, I'm not angry," Steve says quickly.

Bucky's face is red, though, his expression scrunching up. "I... I didn't... I don't mention a lot! I just… we talk about everything."

"I know," Steve says evenly. "I mean it, it's fine, I'm not upset. But she definitely is. She doesn't think a lot of me, Buck, but she's trying to look out for you, and in an effort to calm her down, I invited her to dinner."

"Oh my god," mumbles Bucky, putting his hands over his face. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay, I promise. Please, come here?" he opens his arms for Bucky, reaching toward him.

Bucky huffs but shuffles over, crawling into Steve's lap as Steve wraps his arms around him and kisses his temple. "It really is okay, Bucky."

Bucky snuggles close, head tucked under Steve's chin. "What did she say to you?"

"She... accused me of taking advantage of you and conning you into becoming a sex worker."

"She what?" blurts Bucky, sitting back up so quickly he almost smacks Steve in the face with his head.

"I don't know what you said about it but...she obviously thinks certain things. I told her a little, enough to assure her I hadn't conned you into the agreement. I did mention the contract, but when she demanded to see it, I said I couldn't show it to her without your permission. Maybe I shouldn't have even said what I did, but I didn't want her to think you were in serious danger." Steve rubs his hands up and down Bucky's arms, trying to soothe him.

"GOD," says Bucky. "I can't believe she did that. It's like... she's making up for all 19 years of living without her at the same time. All I said was that you liked to take care of me. That you were good to me. I didn't want to get into the contract! But then…” Bucky trails off, chewing his lower lip. “That night with, um, with the flogging... She's the one I called. I just wanted to make sure I had a place to go if you didn't want me here anymore. But I swear I never said you hurt me. I just said we got into a bad fight."

"I know," says Steve, sliding his hands up and running his fingers through Bucky's hair. "I know, Buck, it's fine. Even if you had said I hurt you, I wouldn't be mad. You can tell your sister anything you want. But I get it. I get where she's coming from and I understand how it looks to her from where she's standing. If you want to show her the contract, there's nothing damning about it. Maybe that will help."

"I didn't want her to worry!" says Bucky, cheeks pink. "She said she wouldn't judge!"

"She's not judging you, Buck, she's judging me," says Steve wryly. "And I don't blame her. You might not need to be protected, but I can see why she wants to try. You were...in a vulnerable spot. And I knew that when I engaged with you."

"I'm not an idiot, Steve, I know that," groans Bucky. "I also know I'm attractive and young, which is basically the two checkboxes you had when you first looked at me and decided you wanted to buy me."

Steve's own cheeks heat up a little. "Hey. I'm still young," he mumbles.

Bucky snorts out a laugh. "God. I'm... I should call her. When is she coming?"

"Six thirty," says Steve. "I'll order some pasta and salad up from the kitchen."

Bucky slides out of his lap, grabbing his phone. "I'm mad at her! I can't be mad at her, right? We just reunited, I don't want this to be so weird and complicated!"

"You're allowed to be mad. Mad doesn't mean anything other than you're upset. You'll talk about it and figure it out. That's what family does: drive you crazy. It'll be okay," says Steve.

"You keep saying that," says Bucky.

"Because it keeps being true. Go call your sister."

Bucky goes to his room to do presumably that. Steve stretches out on the couch for a bit longer. Finally he sighs and says, "What kind of pasta should I order, JARVIS?"

"Mr. Barnes is very partial to the kitchen's shrimp alfredo."

"Sounds perfect. Breadsticks, salad, and maybe some calamari too."

"It will be here promptly at 6:25, Captain."

"Perfect, JARVIS. You're the best."

"You're welcome, sir."

Steve pushes himself up from the couch and goes to his own room to shower and change, trying not to let this encounter make him overthink the situation. He knows what he entered into with Bucky at the beginning was, admittedly, sketchy, but Bucky has reassured him that he knew what he was getting into, more or less. And he's been perfectly happy to stay through working out all the...kinks.

What they have now is good, solid. They fit well together. Steve would even say they're good for each other.

Steve hopes he's good for Bucky.

Honestly, he knows his feelings for Bucky have been shifting for weeks now, developing faster and deeper from the moment Bucky moved in with him. He thinks about his conversation with Sam constantly, but it always seems like a problem for another day. Today is no different. With Becca on her way to dinner, though, now is the time to focus on reassuring her and being there for Bucky.

Steve isn't sure if Becca realizing Steve is probably falling in love with Bucky would actually help or hinder the situation. He does know that it's not something he wants her to find out before Bucky does, when Steve still isn't clear on whether Bucky should ever find out.

Which is exactly why it's not something he should be addressing today.

Steve showers, changes into soft jeans and a sweater, and wanders back out into the living room to find Bucky pretty much back where he was when Steve got home.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

Bucky shrugs one shoulder and looks up at Steve, his brow furrowed anxiously. "I dunno. I guess. She apologized for going to see you without telling me. But she kept saying she was worried about me and telling me that I could go to her for help, so I don't think she believes that I can, like, make decisions for myself. Like I'm under duress, or something." He sighs. "Maybe we should just...show her the contract."

"It's up to you, Bucky," Steve says easily. "I want to help reassure her of whatever you want, okay?"

"I guess this isn't a decision I can ask you to make," mumbles Bucky.

"Sorry, pal," Steve says gently. "I think that's what your sister is all hung up on."

"I can't explain that to her," protests Bucky, his face flushing red. "I can't tell her it's all sex stuff! I can't, Steve! I'll die!"

"I'm not suggesting we take her on a tour of the playroom," says Steve with a laugh. He sits down next to him again and pulls him back into his lap, Bucky settling into it with a quick elbow to Steve's ribs.

"You could be serious," he complains.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry." Steve kisses Bucky's lips contritely. "But the point stands. We don't need to explain our relationship in that kind of detail. Lots of people have BDSM relationships without involving sex at all. Show her the contract if she wants. If she has questions about the strictness or the rules, tell her you and I have a Dom/sub relationship and you aren't going to explain it more than that. There's no way she'll want to hear details any more than you want to tell them."

"It's still embarrassing to tell my sister!" Bucky's got his customary pout on his face and it makes Steve want to kiss him until he can't remember his problems at all.

Steve clears his throat. "I know. If you don't want to, we won't. She'll have to figure out how to live with my presence in your life as long as this is what you choose."

"I'll...think about it. Maybe we start with letting her read the contract. And then I'll see how I feel after that. She already said it sounded like you were my sugar daddy," mutters Bucky with disdain.

Steve barks a laugh. "Well..."

"No. I draw the line," says Bucky, crossing his arms.

God. He's adorable. Steve chuckles again, kissing him. "If anything, she'll be able to see how we are around each other, and that might help. You're not afraid, or uncomfortable."

"No, but I'm gonna be tense and anxious because my sister wants to call the police on you!" wails Bucky.

Steve kisses him gently. "Easy. No worse case scenarios, okay? Hush now."

Bucky settles immediately, grumbling a little but relaxing in Steve's arms.

"See?" rumbles Steve.

"Shut up," groans Bucky, laughing.

Bucky does get more and more anxious the closer it gets to dinner, but Steve sends him to go get changed and freshen up, and when he's in his bedroom, JARVIS announces that Becca is on her way up. Steve is finished unpacking the food, so he brushes off his hands and goes back into the living room just as the elevator opens and Becca steps warily out.

"Ms. Proctor," says Steve, stepping through the entryway to meet her. He holds out his hand. "Nice to see you again. Welcome to my home."

Her eyes are wide, taking in the space, and she nods at him and shakes his hand back. "Right. Hi, Captain Rogers."

"Steve," he corrects. "Please just... Call me Steve."

"I guess you can call me Becca, then," she says. "Where's—"

Bucky appears behind Steve, then, and Steve steps aside to let them hug. "Hey," says Bucky. He doesn't look nervous, at least, just a little fidgety. "I'm right here."

"I'll go finish getting dinner ready," says Steve. "Buck, why don't you show Becca around? There's a nice view from the living room."

As he's turning away, he sees Becca cast her gaze at Bucky, eyebrows raised, and mouth the word "Buck?" at him.

"We're friends," hisses Bucky back, and oh. Oh, Steve...didn't realize that Bucky considered them at least friends. Or maybe it's just something he's telling his sister.

Still, he can't shake loose the hope and the warmth that pools in his stomach as he turns away to finish dinner. He hears their voices float over to him occasionally as they make their way through the apartment. "That's Steve's room over there, and there are a couple of guest rooms, but this is my room."

"So you really have your own room?"

"Yes! God, stop being embarrassing, please."

Steve can't decide if he wants to laugh or not. Laughing would probably get him in more trouble, so he concentrates instead on getting everything ready. Their footsteps grow louder as they make their way back.

"Dinner is ready," calls Steve.

The twins reappear and, god, standing side by side like that, they are a trip. They look so similar. He must have a weird expression on his face, because Bucky fidgets. "What?"

He huffs, gesturing between them. "I knew you looked alike but... standing side by side, it's really noticeable," says Steve. "Please, have a seat. Becca, Bucky, do you want wine?"

"Yes, please." Bucky nods his head.

"Sure, thanks," agrees Becca.

They sit down next to each other, leaving Steve for the end of the table, Bucky between them. Steve pours the wine and sits down too.

"Did you cook?" asks Becca doubtfully.

Steve shakes his head. "No, not today. This building has a kitchen. I ordered up."

"But Steve can cook," blurts Bucky. "He's made me blueberry pancakes."

"I don't cook as much as I'd like," Steve allows, as Becca casts her gaze from Bucky to Steve. "Sometimes I work long hours."

"I cook, too, though," says Bucky. "It's not...always ordering up. We didn't know you'd be coming, until a few hours ago."

Steve reaches under the table, putting a hand on Bucky's knee and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"It's a really nice place," offers Becca. "Really...fancy. I didn't know they made apartments this big in Manhattan."

"I designed this place, actually," Steve says mildly. "Oversaw its construction from end to end."

Becca chokes on her wine, eyes wide. "Do you own the whole thing?"

"Yes," shrugs Steve. "The condos are either for rent or sale. It's part of the real estate branch of Stark Industries, technically."

Bucky lets them talk, eating industriously. Becca sips at her wine, evidently coming to terms with this. "And so...when you own buildings, I guess the next step is people, right?"

Bucky, mid-sip, spits wine all over his plate. "Becca!"

"Tell me I'm wrong!" cries Becca.

"Okay," says Steve, putting down his knife and fork. "Listen, I'm happy to reassure you of whatever you want, Becca, but you're in my home, and right now, you're upsetting Bucky in his home, too. Should I just get the contract and we get this over with?"

"Yeah, okay," says Becca defiantly.

"Oh my god," says Bucky, putting his hands over his face. As Steve gets up from the table, he hears him say, "I'm trying to explain this without details that will embarrass us both, okay? I'm not hiding stuff, I'm just trying not to discuss my private life with my sister!"

Steve grabs the original and the amended copies of the contract and brings them out. "This was what we first signed. This is what we updated and signed three weeks ago, after our misunderstanding," says Steve, handing them both over.

Becca takes them both, glancing at Steve and then Bucky. "And what if I wanted to take this to a different lawyer, someone who isn't on your payroll?"

"That's up to Bucky, but it's fine by me."

"Becca! Just read them first. I'm eating my pasta. You're being ridiculous," he says, and then does just that, digging into his dish. Steve sits too, and gives Bucky's knee another squeeze before he picks up his own fork and starts eating.

Becca looks at them both and then settles down to read the contracts, sipping her wine as she does. It takes her about half an hour to finish, comparing one to the other, but when she finishes she puts them down and stares. "So he's...what? This contract sounds as if he's hired you as his emotional support dog!"

"Oh my god!" cries Bucky.

"Becca, I will remind you one more time to stop upsetting Bucky in his home or I will ask you to leave,” Steve says firmly.

"I want you to know that I'm really mad at you for acting like this," says Bucky, red in the face. "I know you're worried about me because...because I grew up in foster care and not some snooty doctor's house. I don't begrudge you that, but you have to stop acting like I'm helpless because I grew up without a family! If anything, it made me smarter about people. You think I didn't know exactly who Steve was or what he wanted from me when I signed that contract? I'm not stupid!"

"I never said you were! I'm sorry!"

"Well then cut it out! If you absolutely have to know, Steve is my DOM. Like. Dominant. And I'm his submissive. Okay? Are you happy now?"

Well. There it is.

Steve takes a breath, fork poised in the air, and darts his gaze worriedly between Bucky and Becca.

Bucky is red-faced but stubborn, shoulders tensed, while Becca stares at him, eyes wide, jaw hanging open. Her cheeks are very faintly pink. "Okay," she says, much more quietly. She shuffles the papers, tucking them together neatly and pushing them across the table. "I'm...I'm done with these."

"Should I give you two a minute?" asks Steve, standing up and collecting the contracts.

"Yes," Becca and Bucky say at the same time.

From his office, Steve can still hear them, though. He should probably go somewhere he can't, but he also wants to make sure that Bucky is okay.

"I get it," Becca is saying. "I'm...I'm sorry I made you feel stupid. I don't want to upset you, Bucky."

"Then don't treat me like I can't take care of myself," Bucky says. "If there's one thing I know how to do, it's that. I like Steve. I'm happy living here. He's really good, okay? This isn't just for him. It works for me, it makes me feel secure, like I don't have to constantly fight for every single thing. He gets something out of taking care of me, buying me clothes, telling me what to do, and so do I. We're both lonely people, I guess."

"I won't make you keep justifying it."

"Okay. Thank you. I wanted...when I pictured you guys meeting, I didn't think it would be like this."

Bucky...thought about this? Thought about introducing him to Becca? Steve's stomach does that warm, wibbly thing again.

"I guess I didn't realize how much he meant to you," Becca murmurs. "You said he wasn't your boyfriend."

"Um. Yeah, it's...different. Can you please be nice? Just try not to treat him like a criminal."

Steve stays in his office until Bucky comes to get him. "You can come out now and finish dinner. I'm sure it's cold by now, but thank you for giving us time."

"No problem, Buck. I'm glad you were able to talk it out." Steve gets up from the desk and comes around, and Bucky walks up, wrapping his arms around Steve and hugging him tight.

"Thank you for being so great about all this. I know you weren't expecting family drama with me," he says softly.

Steve gives in to the urge to bury his face against Bucky's soft hair and take a deep breath. "I didn't expect a lot of things with you, but I don't regret any of them."

"Same," says Bucky. He takes a deep breath and then pulls back from Steve. "Come on, we can at least have dessert. I baked today."

The rest of the night actually manages to go pretty well. Becca offers a quick apology to Steve and he accepts. From there, they focus on the chocolate silk pie Bucky made and chat for a little bit longer about Becca's project.

"You know, when you're ready to start studying for your SATs, let me know, Bucky. I can help," offers Becca. "What schools are you going to apply to?"

"Oh, I...I hadn't decided. I guess I'll just apply to something nearby. I don't really want to leave New York."

"I went to Columbia for my Ph.D. and NYU for my Master's," says Steve. "Great programs at both."

"Oh god, I don't think I could get into either of those. My high school transcripts are a mess."

Steve frowns. "If your SAT scores are high enough, that won't matter as much. Especially with a good essay and interview. Besides, if you really fall for a program, it doesn't matter. I'll make sure you get in."

Steve glances down at his plate as he's saying it, so he takes a bite of pie and then looks up to find the twins mirroring looks of staggered shock at him, both frozen, jaws dropped.

"What?" he demands defensively.

"You can't just...say stuff like that, Steve," Bucky says weakly.

"Holy shit," mumbles Becca, rubbing at her forehead.

"What? Is that too much of a rich person thing to say?" Steve snorts. "Listen. I know for a fact that rich people get their kids into schools they don't deserve to get into every single day. I don't feel bad about suggesting I do the same for Bucky, who does deserve a chance."

Becca has a funny look on her face, something that seems half amused and half impressed. Bucky still looks embarrassed. "Anyway," says Bucky. "I'm still going to do the SATs and Becca can help me study for them the normal way and if I suck too much at everything, then maybe I don't deserve it and I try a shittier school. Okay?"

Steve shrugs easily and eats another bite of pie. "Whatever you want, Buck."

When they're finished, Bucky collects their plates and brings them to the kitchen and Steve finds Becca staring speculatively at him. "What do you get out of it, really?" she asks quietly. "Giving him stuff."

Steve shrugs. "I like taking care of him. I don't enjoy spending money on myself, but he... I didn't get the opportunity to spoil any of my loved ones after I became successful. It feels good."

Becca eyebrows shoot up. Shit. He definitely used the wrong words. "So you really do care about him. Does he—"

Bucky saves him, then, coming back with tea, and Steve looks away from Becca, even though he can still feel her eyes on him.

"Thank you," he mutters, concentrating on blowing on the hot liquid and then taking a sip.

Bucky asks Becca some other questions about when she thinks he should take the SATs, and she’s thankfully distracted from Steve. For his part, Steve sips at his tea and when it’s all done he says, "You two are more than welcome to stay up chatting but I’ve got to be up for an early meeting with some clients calling from Hong Kong. Becca, it was very nice to meet you, even with the bumpy start."

He holds out his hand to her and she takes it, shaking it firmly but not aggressively. "It was good to meet you too, Steve. Sorry again."

Steve waves her off and then leans into Bucky to press a kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear, "If I’m asleep, you can join me or stay in your bed tonight, whatever you want, baby."

Bucky colors a little but nods. "Goodnight, Steve."

"Night! Oh, and Becca, please let the lobby concierge arrange a ride for you when you’re done. I insist, my treat."

Then he walks out and leaves them to it. He’s tired. It’s been a long exhausting day. He goes through the motions of washing his face and brushing his teeth, using the bathroom and washing his hands. He strips down and crawls into bed and he’s asleep soon after the lights go out.

He wakes some time later to Bucky crawling into bed with him. Half asleep, Steve pulls him close and Bucky snuggles in.

Bucky is warm and smells like chocolate and Steve sticks his nose in Bucky's hair and breathes in deeply, feeling Bucky shiver and laugh softly.

"Are you smelling me?" whispers Bucky.

Steve isn't awake enough to reply. He hums and sighs, and Bucky settles down against him, Steve drifting off again.

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

For the rest of the week, Steve is busy with work, spending long hours at the office again; by the time he gets home after six on Friday, he is exhausted.

Bucky has dinner ready for him and they spend the evening doing nothing more strenuous than cuddling because even though it's been a couple of nights since they've been intimate, Steve falls asleep twice on the couch.

They sleep in on Saturday, Steve spends an hour at the gym, and then they have a huge brunch together with waffles, bacon, eggs, and fruit. Steve feels like a new man, and he stares hungrily at Bucky over his plate, slowly crystallizing a plan for the afternoon and evening.

"I'm feeling very energized," Steve says, licking yogurt off his spoon.

"Hmm?" Bucky raises his head, chewing. "You don't look dead on your feet, yeah."

"I'm feeling like you should get in the playroom as soon as you're done eating and getting cleaned up," Steve amends.

"Oh," says Bucky, flushing a bit. "Yeah. Okay."

Steve laughs softly. "Well, don’t put yourself out on my account."

"No! I—I mean I’m glad. I’m excited," corrects Bucky, flushing more.

"Good," says Steve, giving Bucky a wicked smile. "Me too."

Bucky squirms in his seat. He’s just. Cute. He ducks his head down and finishes his food quickly before he brings his plate to the sink and then heads to his room.

Steve finishes getting everything cleaned up and put away before he makes his way to the playroom to start getting out all the toys he wants to use today. He’s fine if Bucky sees them, let his imagination run wild. Steve can already feel contentment settling over him, knowing how eager Bucky is for this.

He drags the set of stocks next to the bed, intending to have Bucky kneel on the mattress near the edge to put him in them. It’ll put him at the perfect level to have his sweet face fucked and a nice comfy bed for Steve to lay on behind him while he leisurely eats him out.

Steve is collecting a chastity device and the humbler when Bucky arrives, naked and damp, knowing by now that ‘getting cleaned up’ for the playroom means a thorough shower. He spots the stocks set up by the bed and halts in his tracks, jaw dropping.

"Come here, Buck," Steve says, waving him over. "Stand here."

Bucky blinks hazily and then starts into motion, approaching Steve like he's on the end of a string that Steve is drawing in. When he stops, Steve sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Bucky in by the hips, grabbing the lube and slicking up his cock for him. The chastity device has to go on first, before he gets too riled up, and Bucky puts his hands on Steve's shoulders as Steve works it onto his cock and secures it firmly around the base of his shaft. It's not as elaborate as the one he used last time, because his balls will be kept busy by the humbler.

"Okay?" asks Steve.

"Mm," mumbles Bucky, red-faced and squirming already. Nonverbal and he's barely been touched.

"Good. You're going to kneel on the end of the bed for me."

He helps Bucky into the position he wants, then tugs the stocks closer for Bucky to comfortably lean in, securing the padded metal around his wrists and throat and locking each one with a padlock.

Bucky makes a small noise, helpless, level with the bed but with his neck and shoulders supported so he doesn't tip forward. It puts his ass at just the right height for Steve.

"You’ll have to be good for me and stay in this position," murmurs Steve. "But I know how hard it can be to remember not to move when you feel good. So I’m going to help."

Bucky makes a curious sound and Steve reaches between his legs for his balls. Bucky squeaks and Steve tugs gently. "I know, you’re very sensitive aren’t you? But that’s no reason you can’t be a good toy for me, a nice obedient doll for me to use."

Bucky moans and Steve smiles to himself as he repositions Bucky’s scrotum, tugging and stretching just a little as he attaches the humbler. "Try to straighten your legs for me."

Obedient, Bucky starts to push his legs out from his huddled up spot and then lets out a startled yelp, jerking his legs back under him and kneeling.

Steve chuckles indulgently. "See? If you forget yourself, this will remind you."

Admiring Bucky for a moment as he trembles in place, Steve decides he’s missing some key items. He moves away but not before giving Bucky’s ass a rough squeeze. "I’ve got another few toys for you."

Bucky is already breathing raggedly, sweat breaking out across his skin, and Steve wants to make this memorable. After all, there’s only once a boy gets his first rim job.

Steve goes back to the dresser to remove a ring gag, blindfold, noise-canceling headphones, and the safeword button. When he approaches, Bucky’s eyes widen.

"Hold this, baby," says Steve, slipping the loop for the button around his finger. "You know what that's for, right?"

"Push it if I need to safeword," Bucky says, licking his lips. “It means red.”

"That's right." Grabbing the ring gag, Steve holds it in front of Bucky and slips it between his lips and behind his teeth, propping his mouth wide open. "There we go. You’ll make a mess on my floor, drooling all over, but I suppose it’ll be worth it, huh?"

Bucky whimpers, big blue eyes staring up at him. Steve brings the blindfold up next and carefully tugs it on, securing it behind Bucky’s head with a snug knot.

Picking up the headphones, Steve leans in to brush his lips against the shell of Bucky’s ear, whispering, "You’re just holes for me to play with today. That’s all you get to be, all you need to be."

Bucky lets out a messy sob as Steve settles the headphones in place.

Steve steps back for a moment to admire Bucky, feeling self-satisfied with how he's set this scene up. Bucky can't move an inch, locked in and held in place; if he tries to stretch his legs, he'll only succeed in stretching his balls. His cute little cock hangs restrained between his legs, angry and red but soft, and Bucky is unaware of everything as he kneels deaf, blind, and mute.

He's drooling already, mouth propped open around the gag, perfectly placed for Steve to slide his dick into his waiting mouth later.

"Beautiful," Steve murmurs, running a hand down Bucky's flank to watch him flinch at the unexpected contact. He mumbles a little, fingers and toes curling. Sighing happily, Steve climbs up on the bed behind Bucky, kneeling on the mattress and cupping Bucky's exposed ass with both hands. His little pink hole twitches as Steve squeezes at the firm muscle, so Steve blows on it, then spits directly over his hole.

"Unh!" groans Bucky, tremors running through his body. Bucky is usually quite vocal, so Steve is happy to listen to him whimper and moan as much as he likes when he can’t modulate his own volume.

Steve rubs his thumb over his spit-slick hole, drinking in the way it flutters, twitching greedily. Bucky is the most responsive sub Steve has ever been with, perfect in every way. Steve leans forward and kisses each of his cute little asscheeks, Bucky squirming and squeaking when the humbler punishes him for the movement.

Humming to himself, Steve plants a third kiss, just over his pretty pink hole, and Bucky cries out, the sound vulnerable and high. Steve’s own cock twitches in response and he makes a hungry noise as he finally opens his mouth and licks, the flat of his tongue dragging over Bucky’s furled pucker. Bucky wails, jerking hard in his restraints, squealing as Steve continues to swipe wetly over the opening.

He mouths at it, spitting and swirling, listening to the shocked sounds Bucky continues to make. He’s sloppy and his face and lips are wet as he seals them over Bucky’s hole and sucks.

Once, towards the end, in an effort to compromise over their sexual incompatibility, Steve and Peggy chose a third together, someone to bring home from the club—something they'd never done before. They picked a man, younger than them both, bright-eyed and eager and overwhelmed by their energy. They took him home, stripped him down between them, and Steve ate him out enthusiastically while he in turn ate out Peggy.

Peggy held him firm by his slightly too long hair, giving him strict instructions on how to please her, while Steve reduced him to a wet, trembling mess. He more than performed to their exacting standards, all three of them panting and satisfied by the end of the night, then they bundled him home in a private car.

When Peggy emerged from the shower, Steve leaned against the wall, exhausted, and said, "I don't think that worked."

"No," Peggy agreed. "I don't think it did."

All they proved was that they didn't work together alone anymore; the addition of an eager-to-please partner in their home only highlighted they could no longer please each other.

A few months later, Peggy asked for a divorce.

It's not what Steve wants to be thinking of now, face buried in Bucky's ass, sloppily rimming him open with the fervor and intensity of a man possessed. He hasn't done this in so long, without pretense, purely for enjoyment. He wants to do this, he wants to take Bucky apart, he wants to leisurely tonguefuck Bucky until he's screaming.

So he does. Sucks and licks and when Bucky is practically howling, he pushes his tongue inside. Bucky sobs, breath hitching with his cries and desperate breathing. Steve just knows if he could see Bucky right now, he’d have tears streaming down his pretty face. Steve fucks him on his tongue until Bucky goes nearly limp, sagging into his restrains and crying softly.

Steve gropes between Bucky’s legs to feel that his cock is half hard, straining against the chastity device, and dripping precome onto the bed. Steve renews his efforts to draw Bucky's soul from his sloppy little hole while he rubs and touches his frustrated dick.

The noises Bucky makes are beautiful, sweet and needy and oh so precious, his voice raw. Steve carries on for...awhile. He has no set time limit. He can rim Bucky all day long if he wants.

His jaw is well and truly aching, his lips stinging and sensitive when he finally draws back with one last sweet kiss to Bucky's hole. He picks up the plug he took out, a heavy, wide metal one that looks like a large ball on the end. Pouring lube over it, he braces Bucky's hips with one hand and with the other he starts to push it in.

Bucky lets out a long, low moan that breaks off into a whimper as his hole opens around the toy and then slips all the way in. Steve kisses his lower back as he ensures it's settled deep, before finally getting up off the bed and coming around to stand in front of Bucky, finally freeing his own aching dick.

Steve steps up to Bucky's face, pushing his sweats down just enough to wrap a fist around his cock and jack himself slowly. Bucky can't see or hear him, fixed in place entirely at Steve's mercy, chin slick with saliva, cheeks stained red with exertion.

He's breathing raggedly, each exhale ending with a soft whine. Steve can see the flex in his thighs and lower back as he struggles to maintain his kneeling crouch.

"So beautiful, Buck," murmurs Steve, even though Bucky can't hear him. "You really are something."

Stepping in even closer, Steve cups Bucky's jaw, holding him steady, and Bucky makes a soft curious noise before Steve starts to feed him his cock through the metal ring. The noise Bucky makes next is choked as Steve slides deep into his hot, wet mouth. Bucky can't resist, or close around him; his jaw is held helplessly open, Steve's cock pressing down heavy over his tongue as he bottoms out, Bucky's nose tight against Steve's belly.

Bucky swallows reflexively, gurgling a little, then he relaxes with a soft exhalation.

"That's it," Steve praises gently. "Good boy. Take it deep, let me in. Filled up from both ends, like the greedy little slut you are."

Bucky can’t hear any of it, but he’s moaning anyway, wanton and desperate for Steve to fuck his throat, to use him. He’s so good. He’s beautiful and perfect and Steve has never been with someone who makes him feel like this.

Steve rocks in and in, Bucky swallowing and gurgling and messy around his cock, so good. He feels so good. White hot pleasure starts to coil around Steve’s cock, tighten his balls, his head starting to spin. He leans into it, rocks his hips against Bucky’s face, fucks his mouth, until it all starts to coalesce. "God, I love you," he gasps. "I love you, Buck, you’re such a good boy for me, so beautiful."

His hips jerk forward and his cock spasms as a powerful orgasm cascades over him. Steve presses in deep until Bucky is gagging, emptying inside him and struggling to catch his own breath.

Steve holds himself in place until the aftershocks have ebbed away, Bucky trembling as he swallows and swallows around Steve, some come having slipped out between his lips. On a whim, Steve pinches Bucky's nose shut for a few seconds as his cock softens inside his mouth, and Bucky jerks under him, making a low, punched out noise. For a moment, he struggles, then goes obediently limp, and Steve releases him and pulls out.

There's a messy drip of saliva and come that follows, pooling onto the carpet as Bucky takes a deep, shuddering breath. Steve listens to him settle, amazed he's not in any distress.

He seems relaxed, almost, limbs heavy, shoulders slumped as much as the stocks will allow. It would be a pity to release him right away when he looks so good on display for Steve.

Rifling around in the cupboard, he pulls out an inflatable pump gag, pushing it easily into Bucky's mouth through the ring and then pumping it to capacity in his mouth. As Bucky's throat works to swallow, he makes a guttural sound, his cheeks puffing up, bulging a bit over the straps of the gag. With his mouth suitably stuffed again, Steve works on cleaning up for a while, leaving Bucky suspended in place, filled and wanting.

He lets Bucky float there for awhile longer, not touching him or disturbing the bed in any way that would alert Bucky to his presence. Bucky shifts minutely from time to time but ultimately he’s still and pretty and all Steve’s to look at.

He loves him. Steve loves Bucky in a way that Steve never expected to love anyone. It’s whole and complete and he just wants to take care of him, for Bucky to be happy and content.

Steve is...going to have to do something about this. Eventually.

The thing is, he's not in a hurry to burst their little bubble.

When he’s feeling up to using his pretty boy again, he comes over and gently brushes the hair from his face. Bucky flinches at the unexpected contact but settles quickly, making a smothered, sorrowful little noise.

Slowly, Steve starts to undo all his hard work, releasing the inflatable gag and gently tugging the ring out of his mouth. He reaches for the blindfold but then stops. He thinks he’d like to keep that and the headphones on a bit longer.

He massages Bucky’s jaw, but he doesn’t even attempt to speak even with the gag out. Steve moves around and carefully undoes the humbler, eliciting a sob from Bucky. Finally, he unlocks the stocks and unlatches them. Steve scoops Bucky up into his arms, Bucky curling against his chest and clinging to him, leaving the blindfold and headphones in place.

With Bucky carefully tucked against his chest, Steve carries him to the bedroom. Bucky wraps both arms around Steve's neck, mouthing at Steve's collarbone, his breath puffing against the now-damp skin.

Steve knows without even asking that if he put Bucky to bed like this, he'd accept it. He'd whine a little, he'd probably hump Steve's thigh in the night, he'd squirm and gasp, but he wouldn't beg or plead to come, he'd trust Steve's decision.

And Steve—

Doesn't want to deny him. Not after he was so good, performed so beautifully for Steve. He's feeling soft and indulgent, like he has more and more often, so when he puts Bucky down on the bed onto his back, Steve crawls between Bucky's thighs, pressing them wide and working the chastity device off Bucky's desperate, denied cock.

Setting the device aside, Steve lies down between his legs and swallows his cock.

"Ahh!" cries Bucky, jerking hard involuntarily, but Steve is strong enough to pin him back down, calm him. Bucky hardens in his mouth immediately, his agonized sounds resolving into heady, overstimulated moans.

It doesn't take long, after being kept waiting, and Bucky wraps his thighs around Steve's head, hips bowing up, his slack swollen lips forming a soft ‘o’ as he comes. Steve patiently sucks him clean, swallows him down, and then releases him with a kiss to the tip that makes Bucky squeak.

Then Steve crawls up Bucky's body and pushes the blindfold and the headphones off, lips to his ear as he murmurs, "I'm so proud of you."

Bucky shudders, hands coming up to beg for a hug, and it's the kind of wordless plea that Steve won't comment on as he wraps Bucky in his arms and kisses his cheek, his jaw, his nose, forehead.

Steve feels so tender when it comes to Bucky, soft and warm, he could lay in bed with him for hours like this. It's only late afternoon, so they'll need to eat eventually, but... Steve thinks he'll let Bucky nap for little while first. Maybe he'll make or order something that he can feed Bucky by hand... a whole host of bite size appetizers and chocolate covered strawberries for dessert. Yeah, that sounds nice. All that overly fancy bullshit served on trays at parties. He'll keep Bucky on his lap and feed him a bit at a time.

Steve kisses his lips and murmurs, "Get some rest. You deserve it. And then after that, I'll feed you and take you to bed again. How's that?"

Bucky just nods sleepily, eyes already drifting shut at the permission.

Steve hasn't forgotten about the thick plug in his ass, either. Maybe before he feeds Bucky, he can take it out and let him sit on his cock to warm it while he eats every bite Steve gives him.

While Bucky sleeps, Steve cleans up the playroom, sterilizing everything and putting it away, and he has JARVIS order a bunch of ridiculous finger food from the kitchen—crab cakes, shrimp, caviar and crackers, cocktail sausages, spring rolls, and, of course, chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.

It's all the appetizers Steve remembers Bucky being excited to eat at the gala and he thinks Bucky will enjoy being pampered a bit after such a rigorous scene.

When the food arrives, Steve arranges it all on a tray next to the couch. When he goes to wake up Bucky, Steve tucks the blindfold back on and picks him up, carrying him to the living room. Putting on some Netflix as background noise, Steve sets Bucky down and lets him mumble and stretch as he pushes his pants down to free his cock. He strokes himself enough to get hard, spreading his thighs as he rolls a condom on.

Next to him, Bucky cocks his head and stifles a yawn. "That y'r dick?" he mumbles.

Steve bites back a laugh. Pulling Bucky into his lap, he makes him kneel up over Steve's lap before he tugs the plug out gently.

Steve wants to look at Bucky's face. He didn't get to the whole time he was rimming him, and even while he was fucking his face, he had the gag straps and the headphones and the blindfold in the way. This time, it's just the tidy little blindfold, and Steve can see every flood of color, every time Bucky's lips part in a sigh or the tremble of his dimpled chin.

And he gets to watch the cute way he gasps and shivers as he slides down onto Steve's dick. "You're gonna keep it nice and warm for me while I feed you."

Bucky nods, ass flexing around Steve's cock greedily. Steve reaches out and tweaks his nipple. "Uh-uh, baby. You're just a snug hole for me, you keep still and just hold me inside you like a good boy."

Bucky nods again, biting on his lower lip as he makes himself go still. "Okay."

"I got you some special treats, things I know you like. Can you open up for me?" Steve picks up the first little hors d'oeuvre and feeds it to him, carefully placing it in his mouth. Bucky makes a hungry sound, eagerly chewing and swallowing the treat.

"Ooooh," groans Bucky. "Oh my god. It's so good!"

Steve chuckles, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Thought you deserved a special treat for being such a good boy for me all day. I really was so proud, Buck. You handled everything I did to you. Did you like it?"

"Yes," says Bucky when he's done with that bite. "It was so different. I couldn't anticipate anything. I was just...a thing. Holes for you to use," he says, his voice dropping as his cheeks flood with color.

Bucky really is the best boy. The best boy Steve's ever known.

"You're very responsive," Steve says, stroking Bucky's hair affectionately. "You react to everything. I enjoyed having you on display for me like that. You'd be a lovely museum exhibit."

Bucky makes a small noise, lips parted, and Steve takes the opportunity to press a few more bites to his lips, one by one. At the caviar, Bucky groans, his entire body rippling around Steve as he sighs happily.

"Besides," says Steve. "Every boy's first rim job should be celebrated appropriately."

"Oh my god," whispers Bucky, ducking his head, the flush creeping down his chest. "That was...I had no idea you were going to do that, it was..." He squirms a little, clenching reflexively around Steve, and Steve chides him lightly. "Sorry. That was so intense."

"It's a very vulnerable feeling," agrees Steve. "I wanted you to experience it."

"Thank you..." Bucky trails off, his breath hitching. "You’re, um, really...good. At all this. I know I don’t know what it’s like with anyone else, but I can’t imagine it ever being better."

There’s a messy twist in Steve’s gut. He feels proud and satisfied to be that for Bucky, that Bucky enjoys everything. But then there’s a horrible jealousy at the thought of anyone ever getting the chance to be this for Bucky. He takes a breath, using the excuse of feeding Bucky another bite while he thinks.

"I’ve been meaning to talk to you about after the contract concludes," says Steve, keeping his voice calm and soft. "And we will again, when we’re not distracted and can discuss details. But I want you to know that...I would be open to having you stay here, with me, while you attended school."

A small frown appears on Bucky’s face as he chews his latest treat. When he swallows he says, "Oh, like another contract?"

Not exactly the enthusiastic reply Steve envisioned. "Maybe, but you know what? I shouldn't have brought it up yet. You're a little occupied right now being my warm little hole, huh?"

Steve kisses him to distract him, kisses and kisses, hands roaming over his body, tweaking his nipples until Bucky squirms and clenches around Steve. Steve bites his bottom lip in punishment and pulls back. He picks up a chocolate covered strawberry and decidedly doesn’t not think about how his time with Bucky keeps ticking away. "How about some dessert?"

"Yes, please," breathes Bucky, lips parted.

So Steve feeds him, keeps his mouth busy, keeps him stimulated in the hopes that he forgets the misstep, and it seems to work. Bucky is loose and relaxed, slumped into Steve, groaning with every bite. When everything has been eaten, Steve puts Bucky's hands on his shoulders and fucks up into him until they both come.

Steve carries him to bed, tucking Bucky in while Steve cleans up and puts everything away. He changes into pajamas and turns down all the lights and pulls Bucky to him to cuddle. He's already asleep, the blindfold still on, and Steve doesn't disturb it.

Later in the week, Steve is at work when Natasha shows up in his office, sits on the edge of his desk, and says, "Wanna go to Maui with me?"

Steve raises an eyebrow. "What's the catch?"

"There's a conference," says Natasha. "But we could take a few extra days and you could bring your boy. Give him a nice vacation."

Steve raises his eyebrows. That sounds good, actually. He likes attending conferences with Natasha, and bringing Bucky to a beach...

"Tentative yes," says Steve. "I'll talk to him but assume I'm 80% in."

"Great," says Natasha. "I've already sent our registration. When you're ready, let America know, she'll book tickets. First class."

"Obviously," says Steve.

Natasha rolls her eyes at him. She had to slum it a lot longer than him, working her way up through the organization. The upside: she knows this place better than anyone, even Tony and Pepper. But she’s only been on the board for a couple of years now.

Steve grins as he contemplates Bucky on vacation. He could have so much fun with him, pamper him, tease him...

And...it’s perfect timing for something else he's been meaning to bring up. It was something he almost pushed for in the beginning, but he didn’t want Bucky to be uncomfortable. At the very least, he’s sure Bucky is comfortable in their existing arrangement, trusts Steve, and would tell him no if Steve asked for something Bucky didn't want.

And Steve... really wants to ask for this.

After Natasha leaves, Steve says, "JARVIS, tell Bucky I’m taking him to dinner tonight. Wear something pretty for me." Code for wear lingerie under a nice suit. Steve will take him out, feed him good food, and then he’ll talk to him about the requisite steps should they decide to remove condoms from their routine.

"Mr. Barnes says he’ll be ready, Captain."

At home after work, Bucky is waiting in a pair of perfectly fitted navy slacks, a white dress shirt, and a navy waistcoat. His collar is undone and his hair is artfully styled and Steve already wants to strip him down.

"You look good," mumbles Steve as he pulls Bucky into his arms and kisses him.
Bucky hums against his lips, melting so easily into him. "Thank you. What's the occasion?"

"Vacation," says Steve, and leaves it at that until they're at dinner.

He takes Bucky to the kind of place that seats you for two solid hours and delivers everything with courses and paired drinks. When their first course arrives, Steve says, "I'm going to a conference in Maui with Natasha in the third week of March and I'd like to take you, make a week of it. Sun, sand, drinks, the whole deal."

Bucky's face lights up. "Maui?! Are you serious?"

"Yep," says Steve, a little smug about how excited Bucky already is. "I'll have to attend some workshops and there's a networking cocktail party at the beginning and dinner at the end, but we could spend most of it together, and when I'm occupied, you can do whatever you want."

"That's sounds amazing," says Bucky, but his brow is already furrowing a little. "What are the dates, exactly?"

Steve pulls out his phone to check, and Bucky's frown deepens, his lower lip catching in his teeth. "That's Becca's spring break. She seemed pretty excited that we could spend some of it together..."

"Bring her," says Steve, shrugging. "Even better, you won't be lonely when I'm not around. Who doesn't want to go to Maui?"

Bucky's jaw drops. "Really? Just like that?"

"Yeah, why not? I know, I know. I'm doing a rich guy thing again, but it's Maui and I want you there, and I want you happy to be there. You and Becca will have fun while I work and in the evenings she can go out if she wants. I'm sure there'll be other college kids there for spring break." Steve takes a sip of his wine and makes a mental note to have America book another suite for Becca.

"Okay," agrees Bucky. "I'll ask her."

"And make sure she knows the whole trip is on Stark Industries' dime, okay? Flight, lodging, food; it's all covered."

"Can I text her now?" asks Bucky.

"In a minute. I have something else I want to talk to you about."

The waiter comes then and Steve sits back so he can take the plates and glasses and exchange them for the next course. "Thank you."

"Thanks," says Bucky. When the server is gone, Bucky looks back at Steve again. "What do you want to talk about?"

"First of all, I want you to know that if you want to say no to this, it's okay and it won't change anything or hurt my feelings. It's perfectly within your right to refuse."

"Uh, alright." Bucky looks confused and curious.

"I want to talk about the possibility of us not using condoms anymore. Obviously, we'd both get checked out, all the necessary tests for both of us to review. And I can assure you I have not had, nor do I intend to have, sex with anyone else while we're in this arrangement."

"Oh," says Bucky, his eyes wide. "You want that with me?"

"Yes," says Steve readily. "You may have noticed I have a few kinks, Buck. Being able to fuck you full of my come and plug you up with it is... appealing."

Bucky goes immediately, adorably red in the face. "Oh my god."

"So, think about that," says Steve. "And tell me tomorrow. If you want to, I'll get us both in to get tested in the next couple of days, but if you don't want to, then that's fine, and we can keep doing what we're doing."

"I don't need to think about it, I want to," says Bucky, his pupils blown out. He squirms in place a little. "I already know the answer."

Steve holds his breath and counts to five. "Think about that," he repeats more firmly. "And tell me tomorrow."

Bucky huffs just a little. "Okay. Fine." It's the kind of pout Steve wants to slap, just a bit. Slap, and then kiss.

"Eat your dinner and don't sulk at me," Steve says primly. "Think about something else, if you need to. I don't like snap decisions."

"Then can I text Becca?" asks Bucky immediately, sitting up again. "About Maui?"

"Yes," allows Steve. "Oh, and I'll arrange for you to both go to spa before we leave. You can have a day together to get pampered, go shopping afterwards. I'll let you have my card."

Bucky's eyes go round. "Do you get off on this?" he squeaks.

"A little," admits Steve, shrugging. He picks up his knife and fork and slices neatly into his filet mignon. "That's not news."

"I think she says yes," says Bucky, showing Steve his phone, which is a lot of exclamation marks and excited yelling. His face breaks into a shy smile. "Thank you. This is... I've never gone on vacation before."

"Then it's long overdue. You're very welcome." He smiles back, enjoying Bucky's excitement. This kind of thing normally doesn't even blip his radar anymore. Which is a shame, honestly. He knows that. He knows what it's like to grow up saving every dollar and never going on vacation. Having Bucky now, it's making him appreciate it all over again.

"You've got a month to plan to your heart's content. I'll get you the actual days of the conference so you know when I'll be busy. And during the days when I'm not, we can still do things with Becca. So you two can plan whatever daytime activities you want. There's a ton to do on the island. Would you like that?"

"Yes! I have never planned anything like this. I mean, obviously. I've never been on vacation! I'm so excited. Can Becca come over tomorrow? I know it's not my day off but she's got the day off and then we can start planning."

Steve laughs. "Yes, that's fine."

When did Steve get so indulgent? When he fell in love with Bucky, that's when.

They finish their dinner and Steve takes Bucky home and strips him down in his bedroom, laying him out and sucking him off through silk before fucking him thoroughly into the mattress.

Becca comes over the next day, and by the time she leaves after lunch, there's a whole itinerary set for their week in Maui. Bucky is in one of the best moods Steve has ever seen him in, smiling and affectionate and clingy, and Steve enjoys every second of it.

The following week sees the close of February. It's a blur of activity—America confirms their first class tickets to Maui, Steve and Bucky both go to get tested, and Steve meets with Natasha for lunch.

"So, he has a twin sister," she says, dipping a tortilla chip into guacamole. "We're essentially taking two college-age kids on spring break. I'm too old for wet t-shirt contests, Steve."

Steve snorts into his bloody mary. "They've planned a whole itinerary. It's cute. There are blocks set aside for 'tanning by the pool'."

"Efficient," says Natasha approvingly. "Is Becca as sweet as her brother?"

Steve cocks his head. "No. She's tougher. Sharper. You'll like her."

Natasha arches an eyebrow. "Curiouser and curiouser."

"I was thinking... Would you like to come over tomorrow for dinner?" asks Steve, scooping some salsa onto his tortilla chip and crunching it.

"Hmmm, maybe," she says with an arched brow. "Will there be a show?"

"Maybe," he mimics with a grin. Natasha kicks him under the table. "Ouch! I haven't decided yet, honestly. I'm thinking yes, I just want to talk to him about it."

"Oh, how considerate." She sips her margarita.

"Don't make it a thing. Yes, I have been on my best behavior since our chat," he assures her. Smiling, he adds, "Anyway, I know how you like watching pretty boys cry."

"And you are so talented at making them cry." She taps her lip with a perfectly manicured nail. "Okay, I'll keep my schedule clear. Just text me once you've decided."

They go back to work after lunch, and sitting in Steve's email is the results from his and Bucky's bloodwork. All clear across the board. The email has already been sent to Bucky too, so Steve knows he'll see it soon enough if he hasn't already.

He picks up his phone and texts.

Steve: Check your email yet?
Bucky: Just did. So... no more condoms?
Steve: No more condoms if you're still good with that.
Bucky: I am.
Steve: good. I'll be home at 5:00 tonight. I want you to go into the playroom and find whichever plug you want, whatever you think is a good enough size to get you ready. And then you're going to get all cleaned up for me, work it inside, and be waiting for me, bent over the back of the couch.
Bucky: yes, sir
Steve: what's your safeword?
Bucky: red.
Steve: okay, we start when I get home tonight.
Bucky: I'll be ready.
Steve: good boy :)

Steve focuses on work for the rest of his afternoon, throws himself into a project as deeply as he can because otherwise all he'll be able to think about is Bucky. He leaves at 5, imagining Bucky emerging from the shower, going to the playroom, selecting a toy from the cupboards. Using his fingers on himself for the first time... Steve might have to get the playback on that, later. Maybe watch it with Bucky, have him see himself wanton and writhing.

Bucky is such a good boy. He's exactly where he should be when Steve gets home, long legs stretched as he braces himself over the back of the living room couch, ass on display, plug peeking out from between his cute cheeks.

Steve doesn't even greet him. He takes his time putting his things away, undoing his tie and removing his cufflinks. Bucky is trembling, he can see it, but he stays put, breathes raggedly into the cushions as he waits patiently for Steve.

And when Steve has delayed long enough, he snags the newspaper he gets delivered everyday, drapes it over the back of the couch next to Bucky, undoes his belt, pushes his pants down to free his cock, and then grabs the base of the plug.

Bucky makes a sound muffled by the couch, his thighs straining. Steve toys with it a little, twisting the base, working it in and out, before pulling it free and setting it aside. He doesn't give Bucky time to adjust before he grips his hips with both hands and pushes steadily into him.

Steve believes in safe sex, would never fuck someone without a condom without rigorous testing, but—

There's nothing better than pushing into his boy's tight hole bare.

Bucky sobs a little, taking him in deep, and Steve holds him there, makes him feel it as he bottoms out.

Then, casually, he lets go of Bucky, picks up the newspaper, opens it over Bucky's upper back, and really puts his back into fucking him.

Steve senses the moment Bucky really absorbs what's happening. Steve is just taking care of business first thing, making sure his needy toy is serviced while he reads the paper. Bucky lets out a ragged moan, body rippling around Steve, squeezing as he gasps, "Steve!"

"Mmm?" hums Steve, shaking out a wrinkle from the page. (As if he really needs to be able to read some paragraph obscured by a crease. As if Steve cares about anything but how hot and sweet Bucky's ass feels on his bare cock.)

"Oh god," cries Bucky. "I—"

"You what? Don't act like you need anything else. I know you don't. Just my cock in your ass, fucking you for all you're worth," says Steve, his voice distant and bored. He turns the page of the paper. "So take it."

Bucky's ass clenches around him again, his hips tipping back into the thrusts, another long, dragged out moan pouring from his throat. He sounds desperate, turned on. Steve sighs deeply as if annoyed he has to deal with this at all instead of entirely thrilled. "Keep quiet. I'm trying to read."

"S-sorry," whines Bucky, his voice high and vulnerable. Steve can't actually see him with the paper open like this, which is a shame, but he thinks Bucky either has both hands over his face, or he's bracing himself on the couch with his face buried against the cushions.

"Hush," snaps Steve. He flicks the pages arbitrarily, completely unable to process a single word that's in front of him. Bucky feels incredible, and Steve is going to come inside him, fill him up with it, then slip the plug back inside him. He's going to spend all night doing that, as many times as he can, and he's going to make it seem like it's a favour to Bucky that he's deigning to top up his boy.

Bucky wails softly, then muffles himself, shuddering bodily, spurning Steve quickly to orgasm. "Such a needy thing," he says dismissively. "I've got to keep you full or else you're useless, aren't you? This tight little ass can't be empty. Say thank you, Bucky."

"Thank you!" cries Bucky, voice thick, and Steve folds the newspaper, puts it aside, holds Bucky down by the back of the neck, and drills into him hard until he spills hot inside him.

Steve can't maintain the pretense that he's entirely unaffected, because he's been waiting for this, the mess of it, sloppy, as he pulls out and keeps Bucky pinned down, ass up, until he can grab the plug and shove it back inside him.

"There you go," he croons, patting Bucky roughly on the ass. "I'm sure you'll get greedy again in a couple of hours, and I'll top you up again, you little slut."

Bucky whines, shuddering and twitching. Steve reaches down and squeezes his full cock, getting a little shriek from Bucky. "Ah!"

"Well, if you'd come on my cock like a grateful slut would have, this wouldn't be a problem, would it?" scolds Steve. "You'll do it next time or I'll have to teach you a lesson."

Bucky sniffles, nodding his head. "O-okay."

Steve pulls him upright. "Now, say: 'thank you for the second chance, Steve'."

"Thank you for the second chance, Steve," says Bucky, wiping his eyes.

"You're welcome. Go sit down at the table. I'll get dinner."

Bucky bites his lip and gingerly walks over to the table, sitting down with a soft whine.

Biting back a laugh, Steve turns away and heats up leftovers, plating up the food and bringing it over to Bucky, who is squirming on the dining room chair, still very naked and very hard. "Eat up. You'll need your energy."

"Thank you," he says.

"Tomorrow, I invited Natasha to dinner. Will you cook for her?" asks Steve.

Bucky's cheeks are becomingly pink. "If you want me to. I'm not that great. The kitchen would be better."

"No, I think she'll enjoy whatever you make. She doesn't get home-cooked meals very often. And I definitely want her to feel at home while she's here."

Bucky nods, eyes on his plate as he picks up his fork. He can't seem to help himself, though, asking, "Is she your closest friend?"

Steve cocks his head, considering this as he digs into his own dinner. "In a way, yes. I'm more open with her than I am with Tony or Sam, sometimes. There are some things I don't discuss at all with them, which I wouldn't hesitate to discuss with Natasha. So...yes, my closest friend."

"So this means a lot to you," says Bucky, now sounding a little nervous.

"You've met her before," points out Steve. "There's nothing to be anxious about."

"She's..." Bucky bites his lip, hesitating. "Intimidating."

"You're right," agrees Steve. "She has a very unnerving talent for looking right through you." He watches Bucky carefully as he talks, observing his flushed skin, the way he can't sit still. He is, of course, hard and plugged, but this conversation is definitely increasing his arousal. "She thinks you're sweet and pretty. She told me so herself."

"Mm," hums Bucky, lowering his gaze to his plate. "Does she have a partner?"

"Not right now. She's interested in women, but she has a strictly aesthetic appreciation for men. What are you thinking about?" Steve presses, because Bucky has that faraway look in his eyes that usually means he's fantasizing. He really is so easy.

"Um," Bucky says haltingly. "I don't think you'd like it. You don't...share."

"That's true, I don't. I don't like people to touch what belongs to me. But I do like to show you off. I like to share you in that way," points out Steve. "You're such a good boy and you're all mine."

Bucky's lips part, panting slightly. "I—I just thought about if she got to see. If she watched me being good for you."

"Ah," says Steve, pretending to consider it. "Well...it would be such a shame for no one else to get to appreciate all my hard work in training you."

Bucky's cheeks are flaming now, his eyes wide. "I would be good. I would make you proud."

"I know you would," agrees Steve. "You're so eager to please, aren't you?"

Bucky nods.

Steve takes a breath. "Maybe I'll hang you up like decoration. She can admire you from every angle. I think she'd like that. Is that what you want?"

"It is. I want her to see," admits Bucky. "Want her to know I make—I'm good for you."

"You are," murmurs Steve, nodding. "You're so good for me. And tomorrow, Natasha will come for dinner, and you'll cook, and when we're finished eating, I'll give Natasha something pretty to look at while she enjoys her dessert."

"Okay," breathes Bucky, his eyes glazing over a bit. "I like that. That sounds good."

"She won't touch you," Steve reminds him. "I'm the only one that gets to do that. You'll be safe in my hands."

"I know," agrees Bucky, nodding eagerly.

"Good. Now finish up. You still have dishes to do."

Bucky eats his dinner mechanically, then Steve stands him up, slaps his ass, and sends him into the kitchen to wash the dishes, while Steve enjoys the sight of Bucky wearing an apron to keep from splashing himself with suds, his erection creating a little tent at the front.

While Bucky is doing that, Steve text Natasha.

Steve: You are cordially invited to dinner and a show tomorrow evening at six o'clock
Natasha: I look forward to it :) I'll dress up nice and bring a bottle of wine
Natasha: It's been so long since I've watched you work someone over

Smiling, Steve goes to find Bucky in the kitchen, pulling him away from the sink and bending him over the counter, still in his little apron. Removing the plug, Steve slides into him so easily, wrapping one hand around Bucky's mouth to gag him (by now, Bucky knows to push Steve's hand away or snap his fingers if he needs to safeword), while he balances his phone between Bucky's shoulder blades as he continues to text Natasha.

Steve: and you've never seen me work over a sub like Bucky
Steve: he's...very special
Natasha: you're just biased bc you stick your dick in him regularly
Steve: you'll see
Natasha: i guess i will

It takes him longer this time, rocking into Bucky at a nice, quick pace, Bucky's muffled sobs behind his hand a welcome soundtrack. He's close to coming again, the pleasure starting to coil, when his phone buzzes with a call. He shoves deep inside of Bucky and holds still while he answers it on speaker phone. "Yes?"

"Captain, sorry to disturb you at home. I wanted to let you know that Mr. Stark requested you run the board meeting tomorrow. He won't be able to make it back from Milan until the day after," says America.

"No problem. I wasn't doing anything important," says Steve, starting to quietly move again, a rolling thrust of his hips. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Of course. I'll send a rough draft of the agenda tonight for you to look over and email it out in the morning once you approve."

"Perfect. You're the best, America." His thrusts pick up speed.

"Any time, sir. Have a good evening," she says. "Goodbye."

Steve hangs up and Bucky lets out a shuddering sob and comes.

"That's my little come-slut," murmurs Steve, grinding in deep with an obscene noise as Bucky's hole flutters around his cock. "That's it, that's better."

Steve needs just a little more, riding the cresting high before finally spilling into Bucky, milking his dick inside him before pulling out carefully and plugging Bucky back up again.

"You'll just take anything I give you, hm?" mocks Steve, releasing Bucky, who stays where he is on the counter, panting desperately, slumped on the marble. "A nice, wet, eager little hole."

"Thank you," whispers Bucky, his voice rough around the edges.

"You're welcome. Finish the dishes and make sure you clean up the absolutely filthy mess you made," says Steve, with a warning slap to Bucky's hip. "Don't you dare miss a drop."

"Yessir," mumbles Bucky, dragging himself up and swaying a little, dizzy.

Steve watches him for a second to make sure he steadies and then he walks away humming to go wash his hands and then check for America's email. Two to three orgasms is usually Steve's max in a night but he could probably make it to four in the name of this very special occasion. He can't leave his boy wanting, now, can he?

Steve finishes up with the agenda and then goes to shower and change. By the time he's all done, so is Bucky. Steve takes him by the hand and brings him over to the couch again, this time in front of it. Once Steve sits down, he pulls Bucky down on top of him. "I want you to lay right here over my lap where I can make sure your messy hole gets the attention it deserves."

Bucky whines as Steve positions him with his cock trapped between Steve's thighs and his ass up in the air. Steve slaps one lush, tempting cheek. "Hush, and put your hands behind your back."

Bucky complies, obediently folding his hands into the small of his back.

Steve can feel him trembling, and with his arms folded up behind him, there's nothing to keep Bucky's head up as he tips over Steve's thighs, cheek pressed to the cushions.

It's just so hard to resist making him helpless when he produces such cute noises. Steve selects a movie and puts it on, and at first he just drums his fingers on the base of the plug, listening to Bucky's ragged breathing.

When he's a quarter of the way through the film, and Bucky has lost all tension, gone totally limp in his lap, Steve twists the base of the plug and starts to slowly pulling it out, forcing Bucky's hole to stretched around the wide girth of it, before plunging it back in. He repeats this for fifteen solid minutes, until he can feel Bucky's cock start to twitch between his thighs, then he slides the plug out, sets it aside, and slips in two fingers.

"Hmmgh," groans Bucky, muffling himself on the couch.

"You are a mess," murmurs Steve. "You're a loose sloppy mess, baby. All full up. I slide right in, so easy."

Bucky's slick with Steve's come, hot and wet inside, rim fluttering as Steve pushes deep, angling for his prostate. Bucky grunts at the first touch, body jerking, and then he whines low and long as Steve begins to stroke him in earnest, firm and unrelenting.

"Really, I don't know how you get through a day without me here to do this," Steve says. "You must be hysterical by the time I get home."

Bucky nods, legs widening a fraction, shameless in his desire. Steve's other hand gives him a little pinch in the side. "Stay still, it's the least you could do after all I've done for you tonight."

"I'm sorry!" gasps Bucky, going still, but Steve can feel the inside of his thighs start to get damp with Bucky's come, his drippy little cock already making a mess with every press of Steve's fingers.

"Sure you are, so sorry so long as I keep this hole stuffed full, isn't that right?" asks Steve. "I hope you don't behave like this tomorrow in front of Natasha. What will she think if she sees you like this? So desperate and greedy, a slutty boy who isn't good at all, who just pretends so he can get his ass filled up."

Bucky starts to cry again, cheeks red, tears streaming down as he presses his face to the cushion and sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"No more sorries. You know what you're supposed to say when I give you what you're so shameless for." Steve presses his thumb to Bucky's perineum, massaging his prostate from both sides, rubbing relentlessly.

"Thank you!" gasps Bucky. "Thank you, thank you, oh god. I—Steve. I need to come, need you to make me come!"

With a sigh Steve pulls his fingers out, pushes the plug back in, and then lands several hard slaps against Bucky's ass. "You don't tell me what you need. I decide what you need."

"Steeeeve," whines Bucky, his tone a wheedling disaster of desperation. "I—I need to—Please."

"Oh boy," says Steve, a little shocked. He doesn't think Bucky is actually in emotional distress. This isn't like that time when he got it all wrong. Bucky has a safeword. He can use it any time.

This is different. Bucky is keyed up and turned on, Bucky is being a brat. Steve's interpretation only solidifies as Bucky realizes his error, freezing up immediately on Steve's lap.

"I'm sorry!" he wails, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I just need to come so bad, you’re driving me crazy, I’m so... I'm sorry, I... Steve!"

"You're sorry," Steve echoes. "I don't give you a lot of rules, do I, Bucky?"

Bucky sniffles pitifully. "N-no."

"So when you break them, am I justified in my disappointment?"

Bucky makes a tiny miserable sound. "Yes."

"I see. It's my fault, ultimately," says Steve. He grabs Bucky by both wrists, folded neatly in the small of his back, and drags Bucky up onto his knees, making sure he's steady before releasing him. "I've been too lax with you. You're overstimulated, and spoiled, and you think I'm just going to... What? Let you cry and carry on and indulge you?"

"I'm sorry," Bucky whispers again, his face red and wet.

Steve gives his hard cock a slap, and Bucky crumples and squeals, gasping.

"No, baby," snaps Steve. "Rules are rules, aren't they? I've given you too much leeway."

With an over-exaggerated pout, Bucky nods.

Steve lifts an eyebrow. "I'm glad we agree. I'm going to punish you for breaking the rules. Do you think that's fair? If you don't, I need you to tell me."

Looking deeply reluctant, Bucky sniffles and whispers, "It's fair."

"Okay, I'll take care of it then. I'll teach you the lesson you so clearly need to learn."

Bucky wipes tears from his cheek. "Okay."

Putting an arm around Bucky's waist, the other coming up to support his back, Steve uses every bit of his hard-earned muscle to stand up off the couch and drag Bucky up into his arms at the same time. He heaves him over his shoulder like a bag of flour, carting him off to the playroom.

When he gets there, he sets him down on his feet by the spanking bench.

"I was ready for a nice, lazy night," says Steve, sighing theatrically. "Wasn't I giving you what you needed? Filling you up? And you still decided to beg me?"

"I'm s—"

Before he can even get the word out, Steve slaps his cock again. Bucky bites back a groan. "That's enough. Turn around and climb onto the bench."

Lower lip trembling something fierce (crocodile tears, Steve thinks, but not for long), Bucky turns and climbs onto the bench. Steve is quick about strapping him down, rising when he’s finished and giving Bucky another hard slap on the ass that makes him squeal. "You want to beg for orgasms? Then I'll show you what you get."

With that, he turns to gather some supplies, feeling just a little giddy at the possibilities. He's going to pull out every orgasm Bucky's body is capable of giving him.

He goes straight for the Hitachi with the prostate attachment, then he finds the vibrating cock sheath. After that, he takes his time considering exactly how he's going to wreck his bratty little sub. He adds an inflatable plug to the mix, then a vibrating one, and of course, he'll want the flogger, and just as he thinks he's all finished, his eyes land on a toy he bought on a whim.

It's high tech, ridiculous, and indulgent. A masturbator, designed to slide right over a cock and suck and vibrate and drag orgasms out of its willing victims. Steve smiles and sets all the other supplies down on a towel behind Bucky where he can't see them, then drags over the masturbator. "Let's get started."

"What are you going to do?" whispers Bucky, his eyes wide and glassy. He is, of course, getting off on this.

"Teach you a lesson," says Steve. He casually tugs the plug free, eliciting a gasp, and replaces it with the prostate massager attached to the wand. He fucks Bucky on it in short thrusts, keeping it powered down, letting him squirm and whimper on nothing but the girth and angle of the attachment.

When he's sure Bucky isn't expecting anything more, he finally turns it on. Steve has it angled exactly right, pressed directly to Bucky's prostate, so when it starts up, it probably rattles Bucky's teeth.

He definitely has a very entertaining reaction, going rigid as he simultaneously fights all four points of his restraints to get away from the strength of the vibration, letting out an ear-splitting shriek as he arches and comes, immediately, onto the bench.

Steve milks him through it, rocking the wand into him as Bucky's cock spurts pitifully onto the leather of the bench.

"S-Steve," groans Bucky, shaking hard.

"Yes, babydoll?" Steve hums casually.

"Will you give me a gag? I n-need help, I can't keep quiet on my own, I...I don't want to mess up!"

He sounds wrecked already and Steve smiles. "No. You're learning a lesson. I'm not helping you, this is a punishment. You enjoy being gagged too much. If you're very good, and you take your punishment, then maybe I'll stuff your slutty mouth full for bedtime, okay?"

Bucky makes a despairing noise, but he nods, forehead thumping against the padded bench.

"Don't get too comfortable," Steve advises sagely.

Steve drags another orgasm from Bucky using the wand before he finally takes it out again, Bucky crying and shaking. That was number three, and Steve's certain there are a few left.

Next, he pinches his ass and presses in the inflatable plug. Then he adds lube to the sheath for the masturbator and slides it over Bucky's cock.

Bucky cries out, jerking against his restraints again, but Steve ignores him. "This is new. I've never tried it before," he says instead. "Let's see if it works."

With that, he flips on the gadget and picks up the pump to the plug and starts to slowly inflate it. Bucky makes a garbled, unintelligible sound, desperate to get away but trapped. Steve can only imagine what it feels like; the sheath around his cock has spinning beads that swirl and rub, while the whole thing vibrates in patterns, and it's soft and life-like silicone with warmed lubricant inside that applies rhythmic suction. And as Steve slowly inflates the plug, he also slowly amps up the masturbator.

"Ah!” cries Bucky. “Ah! Steve!"

"Yes? Are you begging for more again? Is that what you're doing?" asks Steve, squeezing the pump.

"Noooo," wails Bucky. "I'm—I'll be good. I'll be good!"

"Actions speak louder than words, even your screams, Buck."

"I'm good," sobs Bucky, rubbing his cheek against the bench. "I'm good, I'm good, I'll be so good for you."

"I'll be the judge of that," says Steve, squeezing the pump once more and letting it drop back down. Bucky's ass clenches around the fat plug, filled to capacity, the muscles in his lower back rippling. He jerks his wrists up in the cuffs, as if he'd be covering his own mouth if he were able.

"I'm trying," babbles Bucky. "I want to make you proud! I want to be good, I promise, Steve."

Steve hums, turning up the intensity on the masturbator even higher, dragging agonized moans and whimpers out of Bucky as he writhes and struggles and never once stops Steve from torturing him. Bucky's cock, despite the abuse, has plumped up, hard again, red and swollen as he's forced closer and closer to another orgasm while his body clenches at the plug inflated huge inside him.

"Natasha wants to see me work you over, make you cry," says Steve conversationally. He drags his fingers through Bucky's hair, ruining the styled look. "I'm going to let you get some good sleep, and you're going to take it easy tomorrow, got it? But because you were such a brat tonight, you'll be sore and sensitive tomorrow. Whose fault is that?"

"M-mine," sobs Bucky, sounding congested and snotty as he continues to cry.

"That's right," confirms Steve. "You could have had a nice evening of me spoiling you with my cock, fucking you again and again, putting you to use just like you need. But then you had to go and think you know what's best for you, begging me. But that's not right, is it?"

"No," sniffles Bucky. Such a little glutton for punishment. Steve has met pain-slut masochists with less stamina and endurance than Bucky. "It's not. I don't know."

"Yeah, and who does, baby? Who takes care of you and knows what's best for you?"

"You! You always do, Steve. I'll be good. I'll listen. Whatever you want!" His voice is raw and broken, rough with his ongoing tears.

"That's right," says Steve. He kicks the massager up to the highest level and presses hard on Bucky's perineum from just behind his balls and Bucky screams as he comes again, barely making any mess in the massager’s sheath.

Steve keeps it going for just a second, until Bucky starts to jerk and cry from overstimulation, before he removes it. He also releases the air from the plug while Bucky pants and hiccups with tears. Slipping the deflated toy free, Steve takes his time replacing it with another large plug. Selecting the other sheath, he slips it over Bucky’s spent cock with a heavy vibrator, leaving all the mechanisms switched off.

Stepping back, he picks up the flogger and slowly starts to walk around Bucky, delivering tiny flicks of his wrist, little licks of sensation as the leather falls across his skin, all up and down his back and shoulders.

It almost seems like a relief to Bucky, who sags on the bench, flinching a bit as the leather kisses his skin, but otherwise relaxed with the lack of stimulation to his ass or genitals.

Steve lets him have that reprieve, giving him a different feeling to focus on. He’s pretty sure he can wring one more orgasm out of Bucky before he truly hits a wall where he won't get any pleasure from it at all. He's soft in the sheath, and as Steve mentally tallies the numbers, he guesses he won't harden at all; when he comes, it'll be from Steve milking his prostate again.

"You're doing better," he allows, though he tempers his words with a lash of the flogger across Bucky's upper thighs that makes him gasp. "You haven't broken the rules again. You're going to give me one more orgasm and then you get a reward."

"Thank you!" groans Bucky, nodding furiously. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou—"

"Don't thank me yet," murmurs Steve, switching on the plug, then the sheath, before lashing the flogger across Bucky's stuffed hole.

Bucky's whole body jerks and he makes a sound that's caught between pleasure and distress. He wriggles and fights the restraints, his whole body desperate to get away from the stimulation, but he can't move. The plug whirs inside of him, thrumming against his prostate and rim in an unrelenting rhythm. Steve can hear it loud and clear, definitely not falling into the "discreet" category.

The sheath is pulsing, too, Bucky's soft cock small inside it, every over-sensitive nerve ending probably raw and sharp, and he’s having a full body response to it that’s making his muscles tense, back rigid. Steve can see little dribbles of mostly clear fluid leaking from the tip of his cock, adding to the mess on the bench.

"Where are my pretty thank yous now, baby?" asks Steve meanly, landing several lashes across Bucky's thighs and ass.

Bucky's sobs are thick and wet, but he manages to stutter out, "Th-thank you, S-Ste-eve!"

"Aww, there's my sweet boy," murmurs Steve. He gives Bucky another series of strikes. "Come on, just one more orgasm and then you get a treat. I'm gonna stuff that pretty mouth full just like you love so much and then I'm going to use your loose, messy little hole like it's meant to be. I'm going to fill you up one last time, give you my come. That's what you need, isn't it?"

"Yes!" gasps Bucky. "Yes! Thank you!"

Steve puts the flogger down and buries one hand in Bucky's hair, pulling his face up, and with the other he takes hold of the plug and presses it in and down, angled more directly for his prostate. "Feel it, Buck. Feel everything I'm doing to you. You don't get to decide. You're mine, just a pretty toy, that's it. And you'll take whatever I give you and say thank you, isn't that right? Just a slut, a hole, a greedy little cock for me to play with. That's it, that's all you get to be, and—"

Bucky screams, his back arching, hips pressing hard against the padded bench as something that must be terrible, that's barely an orgasm at all, rushes through him. Steve keeps the plug angled and pressed in hard until the last of the shudders ripple through him and he slumps limply against the bench.

Steve releases Bucky's hair and immediately starts shutting off all the vibrations and easing the devices off and out of Bucky, casting them aside as he rubs over his thigh and back muscles, rubbing away some of the tension. "Good boy, that's so good. I'm so proud of you. Learned your lesson so beautifully, sweetheart. God, you're just a good, good boy."

Bucky cries quietly now, deep in space, floating away. Steve finds a soft, padded leather gag, something that will be easy to wear all night without making his jaw ache, and slips it between Bucky’s slack lips, tucking it into his mouth. The strap doesn’t tighten too much, letting Bucky push it out with his tongue if he needs to.

Stepping around the bench, Steve starts unbuckling all the restraints and rubbing the circulation back into Bucky’s wrists and ankles. When he’s free, Steve picks him up, heading for the bedroom and turning down the sheets, tucking Bucky in and then crawling into bed with him.

He spoons up behind Bucky, pushing his thigh between his legs and wrapping a hand around his throat. With his other hand, he guides his cock into place and pushes into the sloppy wet heat of Bucky’s hole. Bucky barely seems to register it, drifting peacefully to sleep as Steve kisses his shoulder and his soft hair.

It's just a race to get himself off, now, Steve having worked himself up so intensely that just sinking into Bucky's slick hole gets him halfway there.

Bucky is asleep, heavy in his arms, pulse fluttering against Steve's hand; safe and trusting enough to let him do this while he passes out. A fresh wave of possessive desire flares through him as he rocks into Bucky.

He belongs to him. His sloppy hole and soft cock, the small noises he makes behind the padded gag in his mouth, the heavy weight of his exhaustion—it all belongs to Steve. He brought him here, tore him down, taught him a lesson, and Bucky took every inch of it.

"That's why you don't beg, sweetheart," sighs Steve. "You know that now, huh?"

Steve comes a moment later, spilling into Bucky's unresisting body before he slips a much smaller, softer silicone plug in between his cheeks to plug him up one last time for the night.

Tomorrow will be messy, and Bucky will be sore, but Steve plans to let him sleep all day if he wants to after getting cleaned up.

Kissing Bucky's hair, Steve cuddles him close and puts his head down to go to sleep.

In the morning, Steve wakes up first to Bucky still dead asleep, drooling heartily onto the pillow around the gag.

Bucky doesn't look close to waking, so Steve gets up and draws a bath, then goes to the kitchen to start getting breakfast ready, asking JARVIS to let him know when Bucky reaches the stage right before waking.

Almost an hour after Steve gets up, JARVIS says, "Mr. Barnes is waking up, sir," and Steve returns to the bedroom to slip in between the sheets and wake Bucky up with soft kisses.

"Mmgh," mumbles Bucky, opening sleepy blue eyes and burrowing back into Steve's arms.

"Here's the deal," Steve says gently to him. "You're going to get up, go to the bathroom, take a bath, and eat. Then, if you want, you can just go back to sleep when I go to work. Good?"

Bucky nods, nuzzling at Steve's chest.

"Good boy. Did you learn your lesson?"

Bucky nods again, more fervently, and grunts behind the gag.

"Yeah, such a sweet boy," says Steve, kissing his forehead. "Natasha is going to be so impressed with you tonight."

Bucky makes a soft noise and Steve kisses his face again. Tugging the gag out of his mouth, Steve reaches between his legs to carefully remove the plug. Bucky whimpers but doesn’t complain and Steve kisses his lips this time. "Go get cleaned up. I have to go to work but I’ll have JARVIS keep an eye on you today. If you need anything, let him know."

"Okay," says Bucky, his voice a little hoarse. "Thank you, Steve."

"You’re welcome." With one last peck, he sends Bucky on his way and Steve quickly gets dressed and heads to work.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

After Steve leaves for work, Bucky gets cleaned up and eats like Steve asked him to, and then he just goes right back to sleep, warm and content with his face pressed to a pillow that smells like Steve’s cologne. He sleeps until almost two in the afternoon. When he finally wakes up again, Bucky stretches out his entire body in Steve’s enormous bed, cracking a yawn before he asks JARVIS, "Am I allowed to order food right now?"

There’s a brief pause and then JARVIS says, "Captain Rogers recommends something light so you don’t spoil your dinner. And he would like me to remind you that you’re to cook for Ms. Romanoff tonight. She will be here promptly at 6:30."

"Oh, right. Is it too late for me to order groceries?"

"No, I can have them expedited if you give me a list, sir," says JARVIS.

Bucky stretches again and gets up, wincing only a little at his own soreness. It's pleasant, though, and he's looking forward to feeling it when Steve works him over tonight. "Can you have them send some fresh fruit and cheese up? I’ll just snack while I decide what to make."

"Yes, sir."

Bucky pulls on some pajamas and heads for the kitchen, tapping on his phone.

Bucky: Did you get your paper done?
Becca: yeah! Three minutes before it was due, hit upload to the dropbox. I'd quit being such a procrastinator if I wasn't so damn good at it. 😂
Bucky: you give me hope for my return to higher ed
Becca: happy to help!
Bucky: speaking of help, you like to cook, right?
Becca: I like to eat. I cook when no one else will feed me. Why, what's up?
Bucky: trying to think of something to make for dinner tonight, something impressive but like...not too hard?
Becca: is this for Steve??
Bucky: no, Steve's friend, Natasha? The one going to Maui with us. She's coming over for dinner and Steve asked me to cook. 😫
Becca: interesting.
Bucky: it's really not. But his friends are so protective of him and I want her to like me!
Becca: if she doesn't like you, then she sucks and i'll eat her heart in hawaii
Becca: but my go to for dinners where I want to impress someone is shrimp with garlic butter spaghetti and zucchini. It's super simple but people think it's fancy because of the shrimp. I'll send the recipe
Bucky: THANK YOU I love youuuuuuuu
Becca: love you, too, nerd.

Becca sends him the recipe and he quickly consults JARVIS about Natasha’s potential allergies and puts in his grocery order. Then for something to do while he waits, Bucky changes the sheets on the bed. Still at loose ends, Bucky wanders into the playroom and cleans up in there, too, blushing at the mess on the bench.

When the groceries arrive, Bucky washes salad and tomatoes, slices bread, cleans the shrimp and chops up the zucchini, putting water on to boil just before six.

Steve gets home not long after. Bucky hears him come in, but he's pushing zucchini around in the pan so he stays where he is, and eventually Steve comes up behind him, hands settling on Bucky's hips as he kisses his cheek.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs, a deep rumble that settles warm into Bucky's bones. He calls Bucky nicknames outside of games more often now and it turns Bucky's knees to water.

"Hey," says Bucky, smiling down at the oven. "I'm almost ready, but I didn't want to finish it all off too soon. Nothing worse than chewy shrimp."

"That's okay," says Steve warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," says Bucky. "I slept forever."

Steve chuckles. "I saw. Good. You needed the rest."

Bucky hesitates and then says, "Can I ask you for something?"

"Of course," murmurs Steve. He doesn't seem inclined to let Bucky go, and he's nuzzling at his cheek, kissing him lazily.

"Will you gag me?" he whispers. "When Natasha, um... I don't want to make you look bad, but I need your help. I want to be good for you when she's here."

Steve is quiet, maybe thinking, and he places soft kisses across Bucky's jaw up to his ear. "Sure, I can do that. I know you would be good for me. You learned your lesson, but I want you to enjoy this. So I'll give you a gag when we start in the playroom. Okay?"

"Thank you," says Bucky, so relieved he could cry. He takes a steadying breath and then asks, "Do you think she'll like dinner? Garlic butter spaghetti with shrimp and zucchini. And I'm serving a big salad and crunchy bread with dinner and tomatoes and mozzarella with balsamic and basil for an appetizer."

"I think she'll love it," says Steve, kissing his cheek. "I know she's intimidating, and for good reason, but don't let her scare you too much. Natasha is very loyal to the people she loves. And you're mine, so she'll be nice."

Bucky huffs, letting the zucchini soften and glancing at the shrimp draining in the sink. He'll throw it on the heat at quarter after six, so it’s ready to toss in with the pasta and zucchini right when she arrives. "Alright, I'll try to relax. I'm going to go wash my hands and face and change, okay?" says Bucky. "And then I'll get everything finished up."

Steve nods and finally lets him go while Bucky runs to do that. He's back and feeling mildly better in a nice pair of jeans and a well-fitted sweater as he adds some olive oil and salt and pepper to the pan and cooks off the shrimp in butter and garlic. Steve walks past just as JARVIS announces that Natasha is on her way up, and Bucky is able to start plating everything while he overhears Steve taking Natasha's coat.

His stomach does nervous flips but when Steve comes back in with Natasha, Bucky cleans and dries his hands and smiles. "Hi, it's nice to see you again. I hope you're hungry."

Natasha’s answering smile is stunning. He hair is softly curled around her face and she’s wearing a beautiful dress. Bucky feels very underdressed, but it's just dinner in their home! And Steve is wearing jeans! But somehow, it doesn't feel like she's the one out of place. "Starving," says Natasha. "Steve has talked up your cooking. I'm excited to try."

Bucky feels his cheeks heat up immediately.

"Don't look so nervous," teases Natasha. "It smells incredible in here."

"Come this way," says Steve, gesturing for Natasha to follow him to the barely-used dining room. She winks at Bucky and then goes with Steve and Bucky hears Steve pull out a chair for Natasha.

"Oh, thank you," murmurs Natasha. "He's so cute. I can't believe you made him cook dinner."

Bucky concentrates on getting the rest of the plates ready, missing Steve's reply, and he brings out the appetizers and pours out the wine for them while he scurries back into the kitchen for their plates.

When they're all seated and eating, Natasha takes holds of the conversation and drives it; she asks if Bucky is excited about Maui, what he's most looking forward to, what Becca is like, what she's studying, how it's been getting to know her.

She's a dazzling conversationalist, and Bucky doesn't have a moment to be nervous about the fact that she's going to be watching them later, falling into her thrall as Steve laughs and murmurs the occasional comment or contribution. She also raves about his cooking, eats every bite on her plate and accepts seconds, and praises his presentation.

It makes Bucky's belly warm and his head fuzzy. He wonder briefly if Natasha is also a domme.

They retire to the living room for a break after dinner, and then Steve says, "Buck, I think we're ready for dessert. Why don't you go into the kitchen and get that?"

Bucky's mouth goes dry. "Am I bringing that back out here, or...or to the...?"

"Hmm," considers Steve, humming. "Out here. We'll eat together first. Then we'll move into the playroom and serve Nat some dessert wine while we give her a show, hm?"

Bucky ordered dessert because he couldn't concentrate on cooking and baking at once. So he takes the perfectly arranged tray of macaroons and brings them out to the living room, and then returns for a tray of steaming coffee cups with cream and sugar on the side. When he's placed it all on the coffee table, he turns toward Steve to sit next to him.

Steve holds up his hand and then points at the ground by his feet. "I'll feed you dessert."

Bucky's heart ticks up, hammering in his chest as he sinks to his knees in front of Steve. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Can you tell me what your safeword is?"

"Red," breathes out Bucky.

"And when I give you a gag?"

"Snap my fingers or push the button," he murmurs, the tug of reality gentle and reassuring.

"That's good, baby. Thank you for helping me keep you safe." Steve picks up one of the little treats dipped in decadent dark chocolate and presses it to Bucky's lips.

Bucky can't help but to flick his gaze toward Natasha as he opens up, and it might be the delicious bite or the way her green eyes look straight through him that makes him groan.
"He's very responsive," Steve rumbles, thumb brushing Bucky's lower lip as he chews his dessert. "Very vocal, too."

"I see that," murmurs Natasha, her voice husky as she pops a piece of chocolate covered strawberry into her mouth and smirks at them. "He sinks fast, doesn't he."

"He does," agrees Steve. Bucky whimpers helplessly, stunned at how the conversation has switched to target him as the subject instead of a participant. Steve discusses him like he's not there when he wants Bucky to feel small, and he sags now, sinking into his role.

"He really is so sweet," comments Natasha. She's taken off her tall heels, slipping a stockinged foot down her calf as she reclines on the couch with her coffee. "Open and pliant. And you were all his firsts, right?"

"Mmm, and he's been so eager for each one," agrees Steve, feeding Bucky another bite. He accepts it, his whole face warm. "Bucky was a very special find."

God, when Steve talks about him like that, like an object he purchased from a dealer or a special breed of dog he tracked down, it makes him feel dizzy. He makes a soft sound, swaying toward Steve.

"Shhh," soothes Steve, combing a hand through his hair. "Gonna show you off tonight, sweetheart, let Natasha see how lucky I am."

Bucky nods, chewing on his lip to keep from begging. He learned his lesson. He knows better, and he only needs to survive until they get to the playroom. Then Steve will give him a gag and Bucky can forget everything but whatever Steve does with him.

"You must be very proud," Natasha says, taking a sip of her coffee. "He's been responding well to training?"

"Yes, and he gets so sweet with discipline. You know some subs, only good after being disciplined or when they're under, but not Bucky," says Steve, tugging Bucky's hair a bit, tipping his head back so his throat is exposed. His other hand circles around Bucky's neck, thumb pressing gently. "He's nearly always a good boy for me, makes it easy to spoil him. And when I do have to correct him, he learns so well. Like I said, a real sweetheart."

Bucky exhales deeply, Steve's words wrapping around him like a caress. He feels warm and safe, cherished, as Steve extolls all of Bucky's virtues to Natasha, sounding so proud of him.

He floats a little, their deep voices sinking into his skin, dragging him down. Steve keeps feeding him, stroking his hair, praising him, until the clink of cups has him opening heavy eyes and gazing at Steve.

"Okay, sweetheart, don't go too far, now. Go to the playroom, strip down, and kneel on the floor for me. We'll be there in a minute."

Bucky has lost his words already, nodding slowly as he gets to his feet, swaying dizzily.

Orders. He has orders. He goes to the playroom, takes off his clothes, folds them neatly, and puts them on the dresser. Then he sinks down to his knees on the carpet and waits.

Natasha and Steve arrive a minute later, smiling and laughing, Natasha with wine in hand. She lets Steve lead her to the sofa, and she stretches out on top of it, beautiful and curvy in her black dress.

Steve comes over to Bucky and steps directly in front of his line of vision, blocking Natasha out for a moment as he cups Bucky's face and tips it up. His thumb brushes over Bucky's cheek. "Good boy."

Bucky moans softly, looking up at Steve, trusting Steve. Steve said he could have the gag. It's all okay now.

Steve smiles and then steps around Bucky, walking to the cabinet to get supplies. Bucky blinks dreamily over at Natasha who is watching him like he's a particularly fat mouse and she's a cat just toying with him. She sips her wine and Bucky shivers.

"I can't wait to see him on display, Steve," she says, even while she's looking right at him. "He's going to be beautiful."

"I know," says Steve smugly. He reappears in Bucky's field of vision, setting down rope, a leather gag, and many other toys down on the table. Steve bends down and catches Bucky's mouth in a quick kiss before he picks up the gag, and slips it between his teeth, as promised.

"There you go, baby," murmurs Steve, fitting the gag snugly into his mouth and buckling it around the back of his head securely. It's thick and padded inside, fills his mouth completely, and the leather panel fits over his lips with the same snug pressure as when Steve gags him with his hand. Steve's picked it on purpose, maybe, knowing he'll need to be thoroughly muffled to get through this.

Bucky makes an affirmative noise, sighing in relief, and Steve ruffles his hair indulgently. "He likes his mouth to be packed full, don't you, Buck?"

Bucky nods, blinking slowly at Natasha.

"A gag, or my dick, preferably." Steve straightens up, stretching a little; a joint in his knees pops.

"He's got a fetish," purrs Natasha.

Steve laughs heartily in response. "He's got more fetishes than I do, don't you, puppy?"

Bucky whimpers, heat flooding his cheeks as Natasha grins at him, eyebrow arched. "Really? That's so cute."

"Today, though, he's going to learn how to be a very pretty decoration," says Steve, settling down behind Bucky, rope in hand.

He starts with Bucky’s chest, shoulders, and arms, creating a harness of sorts, tugging and tying and pulling as he restrains Bucky's arms firmly behind his back, one wrist folded against the other. Bucky feels the safeword button slip onto his thumb, snug and secure, and he wraps his fingers around it. It doesn't feel intrusive anymore, just another reminder of the care Steve takes when he does this.

"Going to do a suspension tie for lil ol' me?" asks Natasha. "What a treat." She sips at her wine, green eyes fixed sharply on Bucky, dragging down his bared chest to focus on his dick.

Bucky suddenly becomes conscious of it, that he's hard, that she's seeing his reaction to Steve simply gagging him and tying him up.

"Is he just really into bondage?"

"I think so," says Steve. "Likes being controlled, restricted, senses denied. He's a huge slut for pain, too."

"Seems like he's a huge slut for a lot of things," says Natasha. "Mostly, though, it looks like he's a huge slut for you."

Bucky moans, eyes fluttering at being so easily and thoroughly revealed. Can everyone see? Anyone who meets them? How badly Bucky needs Steve, how much he wants him? Wants anything Steve will do to him?

Steve presses a kiss to his shoulder and continues his quest to truss him up like a turkey. "Bucky is very demanding and I'm very good at giving him what he needs."

Bucky makes a noise at that, head falling back against Steve's shoulder. He likes Steve for more than just—just this stuff. He likes Steve because...Steve takes care of him and is thoughtful and kind and lonely and flawed and funny and mean. He likes all of Steve.

When Bucky turns his head to blink slowly at him, Steve kisses him over the gag, right where his mouth is beneath the leather. Then he pushes Bucky to sit up again on his own, shuffling around to his side. Taking Bucky by the leg, he brings it up to bend at the knee, foot flat on the ground. He loops rope under and above his knee, securing it to the top of his thigh and his ankle, only tying it off once he’s been spread wide open. Then he repeats the process on his other leg. Bucky feels a bit like a frog, balanced in a very exposed crouch.

Standing, Steve steps back and examines his handiwork. "Yeah, you're gonna be real cute like this, aren't you?"

Bucky looks up at him, arms trapped behind his back, legs bound and spread, cock on display. Steve could do anything to him right now and Bucky thinks he would be okay with it.

"You're very free with your praise for him," says Natasha, startling Bucky. He almost forgot she was here. "Never seen you this way with a sub before."

"I told you, he makes it easy to spoil him," says Steve, waving a hand dismissively. He walks away from where Bucky can easily see him again and Bucky's left staring at Natasha.

"Yes, he's certainly very good for you," says Natasha. Her eyes are bottle-green and so sharp. "So...attuned to everything you want."

Bucky feels a hot wave of pride at those words. He's good! Natasha thinks he's good for Steve! He hasn’t embarrassed Steve!

"Wait until you see him in subspace," says Steve. He starts attaching more ropes to the ones tied to Bucky, intricate loops and knots and efficient touches, until he can see it's all weaving up to the hooks in the ceiling, slipped through a very sturdy, reinforced ring and then back down to a hand crank and wheel.

When Bucky starts to rise, his stomach drops out a bit at the sudden loss of stability; Steve's never suspended him anywhere before, he's always had a surface or been strapped down to something. It's a weird sort of weightless, thoroughly and carefully bound, unable to move an inch, undeniably helpless.

He's off the floor by...an amount, it's hard to tell. Bucky blinks dazedly down and gives up on estimating it, but Steve seems satisfied because he spends quite a while tying everything off, then checking all the knots and ropes on Bucky's body, kissing his forehead as he adjusts and secures.

"Well, he's getting there just from this, by the looks of it," observes Natasha.

"I thought he might," says Steve, wiping a bit of drool from Bucky's chin. Bucky makes a soft, questioning sound, but Steve ignores him. "The feeling of going weightless like this was bound to make him drift hard."

That seems reasonable. Bucky can't really form complex thoughts. All he has to do is look good for Steve. He feels good, floaty and light, his brain thick with clouds.

"He's definitely hard," says Natasha, laughing throatily. She's so beautiful, her dress riding up to reveal smooth legs and a lot of thigh. Bucky has a good view of her cleavage. Soft. Round and good. She probably smells amazing. Girls always do.

It takes Bucky a second to understand what she's laughing about, and then, distantly, he remembers his dick. His erection is throbbing, arousal pooling between his taut, spread thighs, dripping a bit of precome onto the floor.

"He's such a messy thing," sighs Steve, but he sounds indulgent, not upset. "Look at him. I don't think he's really home right now."

Bucky moans, to prove he is, but that just makes Natasha and Steve both laugh. Steve disappears and reappears, applying a soft weight around Bucky’s neck as he buckles on the leather collar. Then his hand wraps around Bucky's cock, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I know, I know," he soothes, as Bucky whimpers. "I'm going to help."

It's not the kind of help Bucky wants, because it involves a cock ring wrapped very tightly around his balls and the base of his erection, but Steve's touching him, and that's good.

"Any requests?" Steve asks.

"Hmm," hums Natasha, sitting up a little more intently.

Bucky's panting, flushed and squirming, and she smiles a little evilly. She can definitely read his mind.

"You could string his nipples and his cock together, then clip a little vibe to the chain. I was promised some tears."

Bucky whines, huffing through his nose, and Natasha laughs.

Steve plucks his nipple sharply and grins when Bucky squeals. "I think that sounds like a great idea, Nat."

Bucky doesn't. Bucky just spent hours last night being tortured by vibrators. Steve steps back and gives him a tiny push, setting his whole body swaying on the ropes; Bucky shivers at the sensation, losing his train of thought as his cock throbs in time with his heartbeat.

When Steve returns to him, he’s holding the requested chain, nipple clamp, and a little silver ring open on one side with silver balls attached. Steve takes Bucky by the cock again and he grunts, really understanding for the first time how he has absolutely no leverage to move his hips up into Steve's firm grip. He just has to watch as Steve works the cool ring over the head of his cock until it settles just under the glans, the silver balls pressed up to follow the curve of him.

The nipple clamps are next, firmly screwed onto each nipple until Bucky whimpers and jerks, Steve tightening them just a little more. Finally, he clasps the chain to the ring around his cockhead and attaches the other end to the chain stringing his clamped nipples together. Bucky can feel himself leaking, each drop rolling from his slit and onto the ground. He wants to come so badly already.

Steve plucks the chain and it tugs simultaneously against all his most sensitive bits.

"Hmmurph!"

Steve laughs. Then he clips a little bullet vibrator to the connecting chain and turns it on.

If just the tug of the chain was bad, the vibrator is ten times worse.

Well, it's not worse in that it hurts, because it doesn't. It's worse because he's helpless, his entire body locking up as pleasure courses through him, the chain acting as a lightning rod straight down his dick to his bound balls, with his sensitive nipples lighting up too. The sound he makes is completely involuntary, a shriek ripped from him that settles into a deep, agonized moan as the vibrator pulses away.

"That's the stuff," says Steve, smug and self-satisfied. "Great idea, Nat."

"He's so sensitive, oh, poor baby," she croons, not sounding truly sorry at all. "Look at him twitch."

God, they're terrible. Beautiful and terrible, just watching him suffer, two sharp sets of eyes, one blue, one green, flaying him open with their hard stares. He feels raw inside. A plaything strung up for them to tease. How is he ever going to look Natasha in the eye again and not think of this night?

"You know," drawls Natasha. Bucky's heart sinks. "You could frustrate him a little more."

"Oh?" comments Steve, very lightly tracing Bucky's swollen cockhead with the pads of his fingers, evidently just pushing it through the slick dripping from his slit.

Natasha's points at something Bucky can't see.

"He's intimately acquainted with this toy," says Steve. He moves behind Bucky and Bucky blinks slow and heavy at Natasha, swaying gently, his cock aching insistently. Steve's fingers, slick with lube, press into his hole, which, after last night, really doesn't need much prep. Bucky whines, tossing his head, still sensitive. The plug pushes inside him, meeting little resistance.

As he contemplates the events in his life that led him here, bound mercilessly in front of two of the hottest people Bucky has ever met, he hears the hiss of the pump as Steve starts to inflate the plug.

"Mmmph!" he wails, shuddering. "Mnngh!"

Steve doesn't stop, and, really, why should he? Bucky's noises are nothing, meaningless, purely entertainment for Steve and his guest. Bucky is a toy to be played with and that's what Steve is doing. Remembering that lets Bucky give into the overwhelming sensations, shivering as he's completely filled from the plug, the pressure of it snug against his prostate.

"His slutty little prostate is so easy to milk, too. His cute dick will just leak and leak for hours," mutters Steve, sliding his thumb against Bucky's perineum. Bucky chokes out a whimper, his cock jumping, making the chain shake and tug at his nipples even as he slumps into the restraints.

"Really? Must be hard to control his orgasms when he's that sensitive."

"Not really," says Steve, giving Bucky's balls a slap. Bucky cries out, muffled. "Sometimes he gets himself so worked up, he doesn't come at all, just zones right on out. Can't tell you how many times I've fucked him while he floats right through it, content to be a hot little hole for me."

God. Steve just keeps talking about him, like a piece of artwork he's particularly proud of, like an object. Bucky's eyes roll back, eyelashes fluttering as he clenches around the plug. He's long since accepted that Steve knows exactly what to say to dig right in, to make Bucky feel more than he knew possible.

"Mmm, so cute," mutters Natasha. "But...I still don't see my promised tears."

Steve grabs Bucky's hair, pulling his head up, and Bucky blinks tiredly at him. "Mmmph!" The gag is thick and heavy against his tongue, filling his mouth more than a typical ball gag does and pressing against his lips.

"Did you hear that, Bucky? You're disappointing my guest," scolds Steve.

Hot tears prickle his eyes instantly at the shame.

Steve smirks and releases his hair to give him a rough slap on the cheek. "Did I mention he's particularly affected by humiliation?"

"Oh, now that's a pretty sight," Natasha says lowly, her gaze darkening as she watches Bucky squirm and whimper, desperate to please them. "He really is just a slut for any kind of sensation, isn't he? Pain, pleasure, shame.... He just feels whatever you put out."

"And right now, he's not making me quite as proud as I expected," Steve chides him, grabbing Bucky by the jaw and giving his head a sharp shake.

It's too much, Bucky can't stand the thought of not being the absolute best he can be; all he wanted was to make Steve happy, make him proud to show him off to Natasha! He whines softly, a sob hitching in his lungs, rattling deep, and tears spill over his cheeks, tracking down until they fall to the carpet.

"Oh, don't," says Natasha, pitying. "Steve, he's doing so well, don't keep scolding him. Those big eyes are too much."

"You see what I mean?" laughs Steve. "You were telling me off just before for being soft on him, and now he's won you over, too. You, a certified ice queen, just told me to go easy on him. That's his superpower."

Natasha huffs. "He looks so soft. It’s like kicking a puppy."

"He’s only a puppy sometimes," grins Steve, winking. "Believe me, he can take it. I tortured him for hours last night. Didn't stop me once. He's a crybaby, but he is a true masochist," says Steve, plucking up a riding crop.

Bucky's head is spinning, their voices alternating warm and barbed over his skin like physical touch, and it's all bottled up so intensely he has to cry it out, sobbing helplessly as they deconstruct him through casual conversation. Face wet and dripping tears, he snuffles out muffled sobs until Steve soothes him briefly with a hand in his hair, before whipping the crop against his exposed inner thigh.

Bucky shrieks, jerking against it, then moans as pleasure floods in. Steve repeats it on the opposite thigh, starting up an alternating rhythm, striking the soft, tender skin but stopping just short of whipping his balls or his dick. When Bucky is crying again, Steve trades out the crop for the flogger, and this time he does start to land glancing blows on Bucky's genitals, ripping muffled screams from him as he shakes and trembles.

At some point, Bucky's eyes drift shut, the repeated flicks of pain bright, sending him spinning off into space, his cock throbbing, his hole stuffed full, nipples tingling. He doesn't even register when the flogging stops.

He does notice Steve's slick fingers curling around his cock, jerking him in a slow, tight stroke. He moans, tossing his head, balls drawing up tight. He wants to come, he wants to come so badly. Everything is just hot sensation, that feeling of being just on the precipice of an orgasm. Tears keep sliding down his cheeks and Steve's voice croons at him, washing over him.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you. Doing so good for me. So proud of you," he murmurs

Bucky's head bobs up and down as he makes a relieved noise. Yes, yes, that's what he wants.

Steve's hand moves up and down, up and down, gliding over the head, flicking under, and—

With a sudden jerk, Steve's other hand yanks the chain, pulling the clamps free from his nipples. Bucky is so distracted by the feeling of something warm and slick on his cock that he doesn’t even notice the silver ring pushed free from the head of his cock, too. He howls, sobbing as more tears stream down his face. His nipples absolutely ache, sharp and tender. Bucky is desperate for more touch but terrified of it too.

In the distance, he hears Nat's husky voice. "Oh, he is a little pain slut."

"He's perfect," breathes Steve, his own tone enraptured, the fingers curled around Bucky's cock still moving steadily. He reaches past Bucky toward the table, picking up god knows what. "My perfect boy."

A loud buzzing comes to life, and, oh, that's what that was. Steve presses the hitachi hard behind his balls, the vibrations drilling into his prostate from the outside, the pressure of the plug making it all the more intense, and even though he has the rubber cockring snug at the base of his dick, he screams himself hoarse, smothered to little more than a gurgle as an orgasm scorches through him.

"Holy shit, Steve," Bucky hears Natasha say, but she sounds so far away. "Did he just...?"

"Yep," says Steve and he sounds so proud that Bucky could cry.

Well. Bucky is already crying. Bucky is heaving out sobs as pleasure crashes through him, and it's raw, overstimulated pleasure, the kind that is all tangled up in sharp edges, giving way to tender sensitivity. It hurts and he's still hard, but Steve removes the wand, doesn't subject him to the intense vibration any longer. The toy shuts off, the buzzing giving way to Bucky's ragged breaths.

"Unh," he whines, relaxing in his bonds, sighing as Steve's hands cup his face and he kisses Bucky's forehead.

"I know, I know, I think it's time to come down, now. It's a lot, isn't it? You did so well. You looked so pretty, Buck," soothes Steve.

Bucky closes his eyes again, losing time.

He's vaguely aware of Steve letting him down, of Natasha and Steve's voices, and then Bucky's on the carpet, sat on his ass, still bound, still full, but Steve is undoing ropes and massaging his skin as Bucky drifts easily.

When he really comes back to himself, the ropes are gone. The gag isn't, and neither is the plug. His erection has mostly gone, and Bucky is bone-tired, heavy and limp, sated, as he leans into Steve, eyelids dragging.

"Oh, I think he's back," says Natasha. "Well, kind of."

"Yeah," says Steve, stroking Bucky's face. "He's listening. Okay, baby?"

Bucky makes himself nod, even though the fatigue is weighty, almost enough to make him not want to move ever again.

"Good," says Steve. "You put on a good show, Bucky."

"As described, and so much more," agrees Natasha, smiling warmly at him. Bucky can feel it spread over his skin, curling his toes. He sighs. "I love to see pretty boys cry, Bucky, and you're the prettiest boy I've ever seen."

Bucky forgets himself and tries to say ‘thank you’, but it comes out in a garbled little, "hnkuumph."

Natasha's grin widens and she nods. "You're very welcome. I look forward to seeing you again. I'm sure we'll have fun in Maui."

Bucky takes a deep, sleepy breath and nods. Steve keeps holding him, petting his hair and his back. "Bucky and Becca have been hard at work on the itinerary. I'll send it to you."

"Can't wait."

Steve presses his lips to Bucky's forehead and Bucky hums happily. "I trust you can find your way out?"

"Of course," says Natasha. "Good night, boys."

"Good night, Nat. Thanks for coming over," says Steve. Bucky nods again, eyelids heavy as he watches her walk away.

He hears JARVIS wish her goodnight as well and Bucky shuts his eyes and rests his head on Steve's shoulder. Bucky loses track of things again, content to be held in Steve's arms, drifting to sleep rather than just drifting. When he wakes a second time, he's still gagged and Steve is heavy over him, moving in a telltale way, his cock buried inside of Bucky as he fucks him, mouth wet and hot against his shoulder as he sucks a mark there.

"So good, such a good boy for me," mutters Steve. "Want you all the time, baby. So proud you're mine. Make me so happy, so fucking happy. Fucking, love—" Steve breaks off with a low groan, grinding deep into Bucky's sore ass, eliciting a whimper from Bucky.

Steve kisses his shoulder again and again, shifting only a little, and seems to fall asleep himself, half on top of Bucky, softening cock still inside of him.

Bucky is pinned down, Steve's bulk on top of him, inside him, he's so tired he doesn't think he could move even if all two hundred plus pounds of Steve weren't draped over him like a blanket, and it's—

Good. It's perfect. It means Bucky can settle, trapped as he is, and just be here, like this, for Steve to cuddle and fuck. This is where Steve wants him. He left the gag in, knowing Bucky wouldn't be ready for it to come out, and it's comforting to be locked into it, mouth full, the stress of words or conversation removed entirely. It's soft, too. His jaw isn't sore like it gets with the rubber ball gag, so he's comfortable keeping it in all night. If Steve didn't want him to talk for a week straight, he'd be okay with it.

He'd do whatever Steve wanted.

Bucky sleeps, Steve's dick still half-hard inside him.

In the morning, he wakes in a patch of sunlight, Steve's arms around him. Bucky goes to open his mouth and say ‘good morning’ and finds he can't. Steve has kept him gagged. Bucky nearly drifts back to sleep under its comfort.

"So the 22nd, at nine AM. They'll be out around two, and then... dinner at seven? Give them some time to shop." Steve is talking quietly, probably to JARVIS. "Got all that?"

"Of course, sir. Would you like to review the 23rd?"

"Yeah, when's the flight?"

JARVIS rattles off an airline itinerary.

Bucky shifts in Steve's arms and Steve says, "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Mmrrnph," sighs Bucky, wriggling closer to Steve.

Steve laughs and then kisses Bucky's nose. "Hungry?"

Bucky nods.

"Okay, we'll order up some breakfast. You ready for the gag to come out, come take a shower with me?"

Bucky nods again, even though honestly maybe he never needs to speak again! But...he is hungry and he can't shower with it on. So he leans in when Steve reaches to unbuckle it, letting Steve ease it out of his mouth. Then he kisses Bucky's lips and pats his hip. "Shower, breakfast, then I think I just want to have a lazy weekend. We've got so much planned coming up, it'll be nice. What do you think?"

"Yeah," croaks Bucky, hoarse. "That sounds good."

So that's what they do. Bucky curls up against Steve on the couch and eats a giant bowl of cinnamon toast crunch, a banana, and two yogurts. Steve watches him as he eats his own bagel and smirks.

"What?" huffs Bucky. "Yes, I like to eat!"

Steve shakes his head, laughing. "Nothing, I'm just trying to figure out where you put it all."

Bucky shrugs and reaches for his coffee. "My ass, mostly."

"It is a very cute ass," agrees Steve, smiling at Bucky. "Not to change the subject, but your birthday is next weekend."

"Oh, right," says Bucky, feeling his cheeks heat. His birthday has never been anything he was particularly excited about. He vaguely remembers his fourth birthday party with Becca, like a dream that slips away every time he tries to pick out details. He never got much in the way of acknowledgment after that. It just became easier over the years not to make a big deal out of it.

"Did you want to spend it with Becca?" suggests Steve, which is kind of him, honestly. His birthday is on a weekend, a Sunday this year, and those are usually strictly reserved.

He shakes his head. "No," he sighs. "I mean, yes, but she can't. Her parents already planned to take her to Disney for the weekend; it's kind of their tradition for her birthday, I guess? And she hasn't been able to bring up the whole brother thing, yet. She's going to talk to them about it when they're in Florida."

"Oh," says Steve. His brow furrows a little. "That’s too bad. I’m sorry, Buck."

"It’s whatever," says Bucky, because he definitely feels weird about not spending his first birthday since being reunited with Becca actually with her but he also doesn’t want to dwell on it at all. "We’re going to Maui soon, anyway."

"Still," says Steve. "If you can’t spend the day with her, then what would you like to do?"

"Um," says Bucky. "I dunno. I like when we spend the day together. Just, like, walking around and stuff? It’s really not a big deal, Steve."

"Hm," murmurs Steve. "I can probably work with that."

Steve, as ever, goes overboard.

It’s not something Bucky particularly wants to complain about, at this point. He knows he shouldn’t get used to being spoiled, because it’s going to stop, eventually, but he can’t help enjoying it.

Besides, he never has good birthdays. Waking up on Sunday to Steve setting a tray of waffles and bacon and fruit down on the bed next to him is really fucking nice, okay? Fucking sue him!

If the hottest guy alive wants to bring him breakfast in bed because he made it through another rotation of the earth, who is Bucky to fight it?

After breakfast, Steve picks out a casual outfit for Bucky to wear, and they head out into the city.

It’s nice out, actually warm after a lingering winter, and they cut through Central Park, grabbing coffee on the way. It turns out Steve has a membership for the Natural History museum, so they wander in there for a couple of hours, admiring the dinosaurs and catching a planetarium show, before heading back out to walk Central Park West. Anything that Bucky expresses even a hint of interest in, Steve buys for him, whether it’s a cinnamon sugar pretzel, a pair of knock-off sunglasses, or a hot chocolate.

As they’re looping back towards the penthouse, Bucky untangles himself from Steve’s arm to throw himself bodily against the window of a pet supply store.

"Oh my god," he wheezes. "Look at that puppy."

Steve joins him at the window; there’s a young woman inside holding a tiny marshmallow of a snow-white dog in her arms as she talks to the cashier. Bucky is going to die. "Cute," comments Steve, sounding amused.

"It’s so fluffy," says Bucky, clutching at his heart. "Oh no. Oh noooo."

Steve chuckles, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist and giving him a squeeze. "I didn’t realize you liked dogs so much."

"I always wanted one, growing up," says Bucky, sighing. "But I never could."

Steve hmms under his breath, leaning over to kiss Bucky’s temple. "Want to go in? I’m sure she’d let you pet it."

"Oh god, no," laughs Bucky. "No, it’s okay. I just want to look at it for a second. That breed is so fucking cute. Like little white teddy bears when they're babies. Look at those little triangle ears."

"Yeah," agrees Steve easily. "Very sweet. Okay. Ready to head back? I figured we could order whatever you wanted for dinner, but if you’d rather eat out, we can do that, too."

"I just want pizza," says Bucky. "Is that okay?"

"Of course." Steve guides him away from the window. "The usual?"

"Yeah."

Overall, it’s the perfect day, Bucky ending up bundled on the couch stuffed full of pizza and wrapped up in a blanket, watching Netflix with Steve beside him.

"I got something for you," Steve says, after the credits roll on the episode of Lucifer they’ve been watching.

"Steve," whines Bucky. "More stuff? I told you it wasn’t a big deal."

"It’s something everyone should have at least one of," says Steve. "And I know that you don’t."

Bucky straightens up on the couch, pulling his legs onto the cushions to sit cross-legged. He’s curious, despite himself. Steve’s gifts are usually whatever Bucky wants in a given moment or truly wicked sex toys. There’s no real inbetween. "Okay. What did you get me?"

Steve produces a square, black box, palm-sized, from somewhere among the blankets. He got up for a drink a little while ago, which is probably when he retrieved it. Now he hands it over to Bucky, his eyes very blue as he makes the kind of eye contact with Bucky that usually means he’s about to pin him down and rail him through the mattress.

"Thank you," Bucky says quietly, accepting the box. "This looks fancy."

The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up. "Open it."

Bucky bites his lip and pops the lid, sucking in a sharp breath. "Oh, wow," he mumbles, staring down at the padded interior of the box.

It’s a watch. The kind of classic, effortlessly stylish piece that Steve always puts on as he’s leaving for work; silver and black, with a crystal faceplate and a smooth black leather band. It’s not oversized or gaudy, which, honestly, Bucky wouldn’t ever question Steve’s taste. It will match with pretty much any outfit in Bucky’s closet.

Bucky can feel his eyes prickling a little, struggling to figure out why he’s getting so emotional. Steve has dropped thousands and thousands of dollars on him at this point, has bought him everything from dirt cheap street food to expensive headphones and the most high end laptop there is, but this feels…

"We’re still working on expanding your collection of accessories," Steve says, clearing his throat.

Bucky startles. God, how long has he been staring at the watch without saying anything? "Yeah," he sniffles, wiping at his eyes as surreptitiously as he can. "Sorry. It’s really beautiful, Steve. I love it. I’ve never had something like this before."

"It’s a timeless addition to any wardrobe," Steve says softly. "Pardon the pun."

Bucky smiles, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, finally raising his head to look at Steve with watery eyes. "Thank you. Seriously. Can I have a kiss?"

Steve chuckles. He draws Bucky in, kissing him soft and sweet. "Happy birthday, Buck," he murmurs against his lips.

It’s a really, really nice day.

On the 22nd of March, Steve wakes Bucky up with a pinch to the ass and then fucks his mouth in the shower before dragging him up and jerking him off with a hand pressed firmly over his lips, Bucky's eyes rolling back as he comes, head spinning.

When Bucky is dried off and dressed, Steve hands over his black card and says, "We're going for 10 days. That means at least 10 to 15 new outfits for the both of you, two new swimsuits, cover ups for Becca if she wants. Don't forget that you may want different outfits for any daytime activities you have planned than for whatever we do in the evening. You'll both likely need new luggage, too. You're allowed to bring two of the tailored suits you already own and I've picked out some lingerie I want you to pack, but I expect new shirts and ties to go with them. A couple of other evening or cocktail appropriate outfits for you and dresses for Becca. Any toiletries, makeup, or accessories.... That's the bare minimum. Come back with anything less and you'll regret it, got it?"

Bucky's eyes are wide. "Yes, sir."

Steve grins. "And if you manage to impress me with what you spend, I'll even give you a reward."

Bucky nods hurriedly. He's going to have to talk Becca into it, but after over two months of Steve's particular brand of rich guy extravagance, Bucky knows Steve is serious, and Bucky intends to make good use of it. Steve likes to spoil him.

Steve kisses him goodbye and sends him off, reminding Clint that dinner is at seven PM sharp that night. They go to NYU to pick up Becca first, who gives him such a look as she slides into the back of the car with him.

"This is nuts," she hisses. "Do you know how much a full day package at this spa costs?"

"I don’t want to know, actually," says Bucky, pulling out Steve's fancy black AMEX. "But I also have this and you can't say no. Steve's got it in his head that we're not going to bring anything on this trip that isn't brand spanking new. Luggage, clothes, accessories, all of it, even toiletries. After we're done with the spa, we're going shopping."

Becca's eyes are huge and she's already shaking her head. "I'm not spending his money! I have my own money, Buck, I don't need this!"

"You are," says Bucky. "I'm serious. He'll be so…offended if you don’t."

"We're already flying first class!" she cries. "I'm going to Maui with you on his dime!"

"Not his," corrects Bucky. "Stark Industries. The wardrobe is his dime. You don't want some new clothes? Dresses? Bathing suits? We could get matching sunglasses."

Becca glares. "I'm not some weird extension of you. He gets that right?"

"Of course he does!" huffs Bucky. He gives her a very serious look. "He just likes...doing this stuff for me and he knows you're important to me. He wants me to be able to enjoy it and he knows I'll enjoy it more with you."

"Ugh, fine," she says. "You can stop with the wounded puppy dog eyes! But I'm going full Marie Kondo on everything when we get back. It better spark so much joy or I'm donating it."

"That's fine! I don't care. Tidy to your heart's content, Becks. Just humor me for now."

She rolls her eyes at him but he's learned by now that means she's fully given in. He grins and bumps shoulders with her and she bumps back. "So...this is the spa you go to often?"

"Yeah, every couple of weeks. The girls are all really nice," says Bucky. "You'll like them."

"Bucky, I always like girls," she leers, cracking up.

"Oh my god! Yes, congratulations, the gay is strong with the Barnes Twins."

Becca laughs, tipping her head back in delight. She sobers slightly, though, as she gazes at him. "You ever...wonder what Mom and Dad would have thought? Having two queer kids?"

Bucky shrugs. "Dunno. I remember them being nice, but I don't really… I guess I never thought about it."

"Yeah, guess it's hard to say. I just like to think they're proud of us, making it on our own the way we had to, you finding me after everything. I hope they're happy wherever they are," she sighs.

Bucky's grief over his deceased parents feels very distant sometimes, a fact of his life for the good majority of it. The idea of making them proud never really seemed relevant to his disaster of a life, and his biggest motivation has always been to find Becca. Now he has her.

Maybe it's time to come up with a new life goal.

"Yeah," he says.

"Sorry to bring the mood down." Then, very deliberately, she meets his eyes, sticks her finger in her mouth, and then shoves it into his ear before he can process what the hell she's doing.

He howls in protest and they both laugh as Clint drives them toward their destination. They tease and bicker a little more until they get to the spa. The girls are all very excited and enthusiastic to meet Becca, fawning over her, much to Becca's apparent delight. She's blushing as much as Bucky ever has as they finally sit to get their mani pedi.

"They're all so pretty!" she hisses.

Then it's haircuts and facials, Bucky getting a shave while Becca's haircut takes a significant amount of time (her hair is so long). And finally it's time for waxing. "Um," says Bucky. "So I get, uh...the works? You don't have to, if you don't want to."

Becca shrugs. "I mean, when in Rome, I guess? Besides, maybe I'll meet a cute girl in Maui."

Selene takes care of Bucky and another girl named Rachel does Becca and then they both get massages. At the end of their visit, Becca's cheeks are very pink and Bucky avoids her eyes until his own head has had a chance to clear.

"So, shopping," says Becca.

"Right, let's do that."

For all her grumbling in the car, Becca knows exactly where she wants to go shopping, and once they get started and Bucky has the first adrenaline rush of handing over Steve's card in a very fancy store to buy matching pairs of overpriced aviator sunglasses, then it all moves very very quickly as they spur each other on.

They fill bags with shorts, capris, dresses, tank tops, t-shirts, and some long-sleeved sweaters and jeans for evenings. Becca disappears to try on bikinis, while Bucky grabs two pairs of hilarious neon swim trunks and another, sleeker pair he's sure Steve will like. They buy tennis shoes and sandals and several pairs of cheap colourful flip flops. Becca selects one modest cocktail dress and one 'booby slutty dress' (which is apparently a thing, he's learning so much having his sister around), and a pair of wedge heels to go with them.

Meanwhile Bucky finds new dress shirts, ties, and a few nice pairs of slacks that require minimum tailoring, which he's assured can be expedited and couriered to the penthouse by the evening. At some point, Sephora happens and Bucky finds his arm volunteered for swatches until his skin is a very colourful rainbow, and they exit with another large bag from there. They also buy luggage, when Bucky remembers, and after a final check, where Bucky counts all their outfits, and Becca decides they need hats, he thinks they're finally done.

They load everything into the car and head back to Steve's for dinner, Bucky's head spinning a little. He has no idea what the total is, but it's probably obscene. JARVIS will know.

"I've never spent that much money in my life," mumbles Becca, exhaling heartily.

"Yeah, and you're already rich," says Bucky.

"Hey!" cries Becca. "I'm not Steve Rogers rich!"

Bucky shrugs. "It all looks the same from where I'm standing," he teases. "I'm kidding! Steve is pretty fucking extra."

"That's the understatement of the year," she agrees.

"Thanks for, um, letting me indulge him."

She waves him off. "Don't mention it. It was kind of fun."

The car glides through Manhattan, finally pulling up to Steve's building.

Tomorrow, they’re going to Maui.

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

Bucky and Becca are out all day.

Just before dinner, JARVIS lets him know that Clint picked them up, and he meets them downstairs to help them unload.

Steve is happy to see that the twins appear to have made good on his threat to Bucky; Clint starts to unload bags as Bucky and Becca get out of the car. Steve pulls Bucky in for a kiss, hooking his arm around Bucky's neck and pressing his lips to his ear, murmuring, "That's my good boy. This looks like a respectable set of purchases, I'm glad you convinced your sister to play along or you'd be a bit miserable sitting down tomorrow for twelve hours."

Bucky squeaks a little, his cheeks flushing red.

Nearby, Becca turns away and starts helping Clint.

Steve takes his time kissing Bucky breathless.

Eventually, he hears Becca clear her throat. "I'm gonna go put my stuff in your room, Bucky."

"Uh huh, okay," mumbles Bucky, unable to look her way.

Becca heads into the elevator with Clint and the two of them disappear upstairs.

"Oh my god, Steve," groans Bucky. "I promise we spent a truly obscene amount of money and I never want to know exactly how much it was!"

Guiding Bucky to the elevator, Steve hits the call button and kisses Bucky's temple. "It was enough. You could have indulged a little more, but you did a good job. I figure I'll likely get you some things in Maui, too."

Bucky leans into him. "If it makes you happy."

The evening is twin-focused, and after dinner, they disappear into Bucky's room to pack. Steve lets them have whatever time together they want, stopping in to let them know when they need to be up the next morning and wishing them a good night before heading to bed by himself.

It's a bit weird, at this point, to sleep without Bucky next to him, but he isn't about to begrudge Bucky time spent with his sister.

It just takes him a little longer to fall asleep.

In the morning, the twins are still asleep as he starts putting all the luggage by the door. He goes for an early morning jog to burn off the excess energy he always seems to get just before traveling. The streets are dark and cold for late March and he swings into the closest Starbucks location on his way back, picking up coffee and pastries for everyone.

Bucky is adorably sleepy when he finally stumbles out of his room, hair sticking up in a haze of soft fluff and Steve can't help but to press a kiss to his cheek. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Bucky hums and leans into him as he sips his coffee, Becca busying herself with last minute doublechecks of her own luggage. After Natasha arrives, they head out to the airport. The twins seem to be...texting each other while sitting next to each other, which is kind of hilarious.

He picks up his own phone and fires off a message to Nat.

Steve: what do you think they're talking about?
Natasha: hard to tell. becca seems nice.
Steve: she is, told you you'd like her.
Natasha: mmhmm. 😈
Steve: 😫 not like THAT.
Natasha: well, bucky was so nice for you. maybe i want one too
Steve: oh my god, never let them hear you say that.
Natasha: do I look like an idiot, steven?

Steve huffs and turns to watch the city slide by. He always misses it when he's away, no matter where he's going or how much he enjoys the trip.

At the airport, they're escorted straight through to the prescreen area and then to the private first class lounge before they're boarded onto the plane. The entire first class cabin is empty except for them, a security precaution Stark Industries routinely takes.

Steve settles in, watching with a mix of amusement and despair as Bucky falls immediately asleep in a seat next to Becca, who shortly thereafter joins Natasha in Natasha's private little cocoon for movies and drinks.

That's fine. Becca's an adult and Natasha… Steve trusts Natasha with his life. He's sure she'll be appropriately delicate in this situation.

He flags down the flight attendant, pointing over at Bucky. "When he wakes up, he'll need a bottle of water, a chai tea latte, and a sesame bagel with cream cheese."

"Of course, sir. Can I get you anything?"

"A cup of green tea and honey, please."

"I'll get that right away."

She disappears and returns with his tea. Steve settles in and catches up on some emails for the first hour and a half of the flight, having his seat and the one next to him turned down into the private double bed while he waits. When Bucky finally stirs, the flight attendant brings over Bucky's (second) breakfast just as requested and Steve watches as he goes pink. "For me?"

"Yes, Captain Rogers ordered it for you. Would you like anything else?"

"No, thank you," says Bucky, smiling sweetly.

Steve's heart gives a soft lurch at the expression on his face and leans over. "When you're all done, you should join me. I had it set up so we could watch movies and you can keep me company."

Bucky's eyes widen a little, and he nods, sipping at his latte. Steve finishes up with his laptop just as Bucky is taking the last bite of his bagel and draining his latte. He takes a few sips of water and looks expectantly at Steve, who gestures him over to join him.

Scooting out of his seat, Bucky crawls in next to Steve, sprawling out on the bed. "This is so crazy," says Bucky, flopping onto his back like a starfish. "It folds into an entire bed!"

Steve smiles and tips the ipad forward in front of them, bringing up the in-flight movie selection. "What do you want to watch?"

"Umm..." Bucky leans in, head on Steve's shoulder, peering at the screen as he scrolls through the movies. "Ghostbusters. The new one."

"Okay," says Steve, kissing his hair.

They start the movie and Bucky wriggles around quite a bit getting comfortable next to and on top of Steve until Steve wraps a restraining arm around his shoulders and settles him down with a tight grip. Bucky huffs a sigh as he goes boneless and relaxes.

They finish the movie, Bucky getting up to go to the bathroom, and when he comes back, Steve pulls the curtain shut and hits the "do not disturb" button. Bucky slides back in beside him, his eyes wide in the semi-darkness. "It's like a fort," he mumbles, pushing himself into Steve's arms, only Steve takes his weight and then rolls them over, pinning Bucky down onto his back.

Bucky inhales sharply, his eyes huge. "Steve," he hisses. "We're on a plane!"

"Nobody will disturb us," murmurs Steve. "And nobody can hear us, if we're careful. Don't you want to say you joined the mile high club?"

"Who am I even gonna brag to!" says Bucky, but he squirms in a tell-tale way, his hips rolling up. "Seriously? You're...gonna fuck me right here? What if I..." Bucky bites his lip. "What if I make noise?"

Steve smirks. "I can manage that."

"Becca and Nat—"

"Are watching another movie, sharing headphones, and are not in the least bit interested in what we're doing. Now...do you want to keep talking about your sister or do you want to be my sweet boy?" murmurs Steve, lips grazing Bucky's jaw.

Bucky swallows, blinking wide blue eyes at Steve. "Wanna be your sweet boy."

Steve grins, kissing Bucky's cheek, scraping a tiny nibble at the hinge of his jaw. "That's what I thought."

Steve reaches across Bucky to the little pocket where his wallet is sitting, tugging the tiny packet of lube out with a grin at Bucky. Bucky snorts. "Well, I guess it's less than three ounces."

Laughing quietly, Steve gives Bucky another little sharp nip on his earlobe and says, "Take your pants off for me."

"Such a gentleman."

"You better watch that smart mouth or I'll be the only one coming," says Steve mildly. "I thought you were going to be sweet for me."

"I am," says Bucky hurriedly, squirming under Steve, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his joggers and his underwear and sliding them down his hips, kicking them off onto the end of the bed.

"You're not sweet," teases Steve, using his knees to push Bucky's thighs apart. "You're a little slut, Buck. Spreading your legs on a plane?"

Bucky's face goes bright red. He immediately opens his mouth to tell Steve off, but before he can Steve clamps his hand over it.

"Hush now, sweetheart," murmurs Steve, using his teeth to rip open the pack of lube open.

Bucky whines, mumbling, so Steve tucks his thumb under his jaw and holds it firmly shut. "That's better. Tilt your hips back for me and bend your legs a bit."

Huffing through his nose, Bucky obeys, and Steve drizzles lube directly onto his hole.

Bucky sucks in a breath, eyelids fluttering. He makes a wanton little noise at the back of his throat that makes Steve want to actually growl. "That's right," his hisses. "Such a needy slut, aren't you?"

Steve casts the empty packet aside and glides his free fingers through the slick mess between Bucky's legs, rubbing over his hole with firm pressure before pushing two right inside. It's been a little while, so Bucky is nice and tight, hot as Steve spreads lube inside him. Bucky makes more sweet noises and Steve clucks his tongue softly. "You want the flight attendants to hear you, don't you? You want them to know what kind of boy you are, that you're mine, huh?"

Bucky whimpers behind Steve's hand, hips jerking into the rough plunge of Steve's fingers. Finally, Steve pulls his fingers free and shoves his own sweats down, giving his cock several quick strokes to firm it up, slicking it before he positions the head at Bucky's wet hole.

Steve leans in with a wicked grin, watching Bucky as he pushes forward, waiting for Bucky's body to—fuck, yeah, there it is—open up, to give way as Steve starts sliding in. "There you go, just what a slut like you needs."

Bucky whines, nodding his head as he clutches at Steve's shoulders, his legs coming up to wrap around Steve's waist.

Steve gives it to him slow. He can't just fuck into Bucky with abandon, because that would be conspicuous, and Steve has absolutely no desire for them to be discovered.

There's no choice, then, but to pin Bucky down and settle into a deep, leisurely fuck. Bucky takes it, takes the thorough reaming Steve sees fit to give him, clenching hot around his cock and whining in the very back of his throat. His eyes slip shut as he clutches helplessly at Steve.

"Now you're being sweet for me," Steve rumbles, picking up the pace just a little, shallow thrusts, more conducive to helping along Steve's orgasm rather than building up Bucky's. It's the slowest-paced sex they've had in a while and the thrill of the location is definitely doing a lot for him; it's not the first time Steve's had sex in a plane, but it's been a while.

It doesn't matter that Steve's not trying to get Bucky off. Bucky is slowly falling apart under him, he’s definitely getting off on this, on Steve. God, it is absolutely the most gratifying experience of Steve's life, being with Bucky. He is beautiful and easy and yeah, sweet—so damn good for Steve.

And maybe Steve is being delusional.

Maybe he's out of his fucking mind over Bucky Barnes, but it really does feel like what gets Bucky going the most isn't the physical mechanics of what they do, it's the part where it's Steve, it's the way Steve can talk to him and know him. Bucky needs Steve, and that's...a dangerous idea for Steve to indulge in.

"Such—ah," grunts Steve, Bucky fluttering around him, clenching and working his hips up to meet Steve's thrusts. "Such a perfect little hole for me to use, such a good slut. Gonna fill you right up, know you're messy with my come, fuck, just—take it, Buck, take—"

Bucky groans long and hard, barely smothered at all as he clenches down around Steve's cock and comes, pulsing hot and sticky between them. Steve bites down on Bucky's shoulder and rides out his own orgasm in short, jerky thrusts.

Steve indulges the instant fatigue that sweeps over him by pressing heavily over Bucky like a blanket, burying his face in Bucky's shoulder and kissing the spot where he bit down. Bucky makes a soft noise, going limp under him as Steve keeps his dick buried inside his body.

If he'd thought things through more thoroughly, he could have had a silicone plug in his carry on. It's in his checked luggage, though, and really...Bucky should be able to be comfortable on such a long flight.

He sighs, loosening his grip on Bucky's jaw and removing his hand.

"Steve," mumbles Bucky, his hands clutching at Steve's shirt. "It's gonna be so messy when you pull out. We can't get jizz on this seat!"

Steve stifles a laugh, tilting his face up to kiss Bucky's jaw. "I have some wipes, relax."

"Oh, you have some wipes, but not a condom to keep it all tidy to begin with!" sighs Bucky, being dramatic as hell.

Steve pinches his side to make him squeak and grins at him. "Hush. You think I'm going to use a condom on your sweet little ass when I don't have to? You're just lucky I'm considerate and I’ve decided not to put a plug in you for the next eight hours of this flight."

Bucky groans but doesn't mouth off again. Steve gives him a quick kiss, grabbing wipes out of the little cubby. Pulling out is messy but Steve catches some with his fingers and feeds it to Bucky, shoving two fingers in his mouth to keep him quiet while he finishes cleaning up. Bucky has an adorable, sour look on his face, but he sucks on Steve's fingers obediently.

"Such a good little puppy," murmurs Steve. Bucky's cheeks are bright red and, honestly, Steve wishes they were on the private jet. He'd just keep Bucky hogtied in bed for the whole flight.

There's always next time.

Steve should plan a trip for just the two of them at some point. Maybe they'll leave the hotel, maybe they won't.

Once they're both cleaned up and back in their clothes, Bucky curls up next to Steve and dozes on him while they watch another movie. The flight drags on, the two of them bouncing between naps, entertainment, and food, before they finally touch down after an almost twelve hour flight.

They check into their rooms and Steve pulls Bucky into the shower with him. He doesn't actually want to mess around; just rubs shampoo into Bucky's hair and gets him all cleaned up and toweled dry before they change into fresh clothes and go to dinner with the girls.

Bucky seems quite taken with the island and Steve is quite taken with him, watching him dreamily sip his drink and devour his food and stare at the setting sun with wide eyes.

At one point, Steve catches Becca looking at him quite shrewdly, but she's quickly distracted by Natasha, who...

God, Natasha is going to seduce Bucky's sister, isn’t she.

That's her determined face. Steve’s very familiar with it. It's fine. It's not his business. They're grown women!

After dinner and a long walk, Steve takes Bucky back to the room to retire for the night.

"Sleepy?" he teases, as Bucky yawns for the third time. "You slept so much on the plane."

"But there's a time difference," mumbles Bucky, flopping onto the bed. "It's...later, in New York. And my body thinks that's where I am."

"Then we should probably get your body in the present, don't you think?" asks Steve, climbing onto the bed and over Bucky, pressing him down to nuzzle at his jawline. Steve wouldn't say he's in desperate need of getting off… After all, he did have quite the nice time on the plane earlier today. Mostly, he just really likes touching Bucky.

Bucky makes a soft noise but doesn't protest, tipping his head back to give Steve better access. "That's fine. I'll sleep and you can remind my body where I am."

Steve licks Bucky's earlobe just to make his squeal. "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself. You know if I let you go to bed this early, you'll be up at five in the morning?" Steve rolls them over so that Bucky is draped over his chest, Steve propped up on the mountain of pillows.

"Yeah, but," says Bucky, sentence breaking on another yawn. "If you let me sleep, then... I'll give you a blowjob in the morning when I wake up."

Steve laughs. "You'll do that regardless if I say so."

"Blahblahblah." Bucky reaches up and tugs on Steve's hair, apparently sleepy enough to not care at all about established boundaries of behavior.

Steve is charmed despite himself. He presses a kiss to the top of Bucky's head. "You get pretty feisty on vacation."

"Mmm, no punishments on vacation. That's the rules."

"Whose rules?"

"Mine, that I just said. Add it to the contract. Call your lawyer," mumbles Bucky, definitely almost unconscious.

"You're lucky I didn't bring many toys with me," murmurs Steve, ruffling Bucky's hair and smiling. Bucky's very, very sweet when he's sleepy and mouthy, and Steve is very willing to indulge. It is vacation and Steve doesn't plan to punish him for anything.

"Mm," sighs Bucky. "Means you brought some, though. Do it to me in the morning. I'm a champion sleeper. Won't wake up too early."

Steve huffs. "I'll let you doze a little and then wake you up to get ready for bed. You better sleep until at least six tomorrow morning."

Bucky doesn't reply, his breathing slowly evening out as he relaxes on Steve's chest. Wrapping his arms around him more securely, Steve regrets putting Bucky on top of him. It's like when a cat falls asleep on someone's lap. They're stuck. Steve can't move him.

He does manage to squirm around a little and grab his phone, meaning he can at least read some emails and texts while Bucky snores very softly on top of him. After about an hour, Steve jostles him awake, then helps a thoroughly half asleep Bucky go to the bathroom, wash his face, and brush his teeth.

When they go to bed together, Bucky curls against Steve's chest, clinging to him like a koala and going right back to sleep like he didn't even wake up at all in the interim.

Bucky is a champion sleeper and it's Steve who wakes first, as usual. He sighs softly, indulging in touching Bucky while he's soft and slack in sleep. He combs his fingers through Bucky's mussed hair and brushes a thumb delicately across his cheekbone. Steve's heart aches.

He cares about Bucky more than he thought possible in the beginning. He just wants him to be safe and happy and fulfilled. It's a lot of feelings for a non-relationship like theirs to bear, so Steve has to keep them to himself. Instead, he eventually rubs Bucky's arms and back until he starts to stir. "Come on, Buck, think you made a promise to me."

"Sleepy promises are like drunk promises. They don't count," he says without opening his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes and digs his fingers into Bucky's sides, tickling him right over the ribs. Bucky bursts into motion immediately, squirming and wiggling to try to get away, hollering and laughing at the same time. "Noooooooo. No punishments!"

"So you do remember," laughs Steve, easing up enough to tumble them over, Bucky landing on his back with Steve over him. Steve leans in and happily catches Bucky's mouth in warm kisses, uncaring about morning breath.

They make out lazily for a while, Bucky slowly waking up. He does make good on his promise, pushing up against Steve's chest until Steve lets him reverse their positions, lying back on the bed so that Bucky can crawl up between his thighs.

Steve spreads his legs, bracketing Bucky between his knees as he settles down and takes Steve into his mouth.

With one hand tangled in Bucky's thick hair, Steve tips his head back, enjoying the warmth as the sun rises and streams in through the windows, the ocean waves crashing in the distance.

Bucky is unhurried, a bit lazy still, and for once, Steve doesn't take over or try to fuck his face, leaving Bucky to manage the pace himself. Steve's orgasm builds slowly, a hot coil of pleasure that grows and tightens until he's squirming, huffing out gasping breaths and clutching at Bucky, hips arched to press deep into his sweet mouth.

Bucky swallows him all down when he comes, licking Steve clean. Steve drags him up by his hair and kisses him, tasting himself on his lips and tongue.

"We'll be done around three," Steve tells him, kissing his cheek. Even though Bucky was the one giving pleasure, he's a bit glassy-eyed and dazed, licking at his swollen lips. "You going to hang out at the cabana on the beach?"

"Mmm," mumbles Bucky. "Probably."

It's exactly where Steve and Natasha find the twins after getting out of the conference.

They stroll down to the private cabana just after three. As they approach, the twins raise their heads and turn towards them at the same time, simultaneously lifting their matching aviators to squint at them in the bright sun.

Steve smirks. "You two look like you're enjoying yourselves."

"We are," says Bucky, grinning lazily. "All done for the day?"

"Yes," says Natasha, answering for the both of them. "We came to get you two so you could dress for the evening. There's a small reception tonight. Drinks only. We thought we'd be seen with two of the prettiest people on the island and then take you two to dinner."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," purrs Becca. "What's the dress code?"

"Semi-formal," says Steve. He looks at Bucky, narrowing his eyes as he contemplates what he’d like to take Bucky out of later. "A suit for you. The grey one, white shirt, no tie?"

It might sound like a question to Natasha and Becca. Steve doesn’t really care. It’s veiled enough to be polite. Bucky nods, a blush growing across his cheeks, and Steve might put it off to the sun except how well he knows Bucky.

"Well," Becca says, drawing his attention. "I need to wash off all this sunscreen, then."

"We'll meet you in the lobby in an hour," says Natasha.

Steve pulls Bucky to his feet and slings an arm around his shoulders, guiding him off to their room.

As they leave the girls behind, he leans in to murmur, "I missed you today. Kept thinking about what a good boy I had waiting for me."

Bucky’s breath hitches. "Yeah?"

"Think I want to give my cute little slut a treat."

"Steve!" squeaks Bucky, eyes wide like a startled deer. Cute.

Steve pulls him into a waiting elevator and kisses his cheek. "Gonna use that tight hole as soon as we get into the room. You can still get ready well enough to look good for me if I do that, can’t you?"

Bucky nods instantly, eyes already going unfocused as he licks his lips.

"Say it," Steve commands firmly, grabbing Bucky by the chin. "You have words, use them."

It wouldn't work if Bucky was really under and ordinarily Steve wouldn't demand it of him because it's hardly fair for someone that gets as nonverbal as Bucky does, but they're going out soon and Bucky needs to be cognizant.

"I can do it," Bucky says. "I can...I can get ready and look good for you in whatever time you leave for me."

"Good boy," praises Steve. He takes Bucky's hand as the elevator opens and leads him to their suite. The moment they're inside and the door is closed, he grabs Bucky by the back of the neck and forces him forward, propelling him to the bed.

He shoves, pushing him down face first, and Bucky trips a little over the end of the bed, landing on his elbows with a huffed exhalation. Steve steps in between his legs and grabs the backs of Bucky's swim trunks, pulling them down just below the lush curve of his ass.

"You smell like sunscreen," he observes, laying down an open-handed smack across both cheeks.

Bucky yelps, jerking. "I don't want to burn," he protests. Steve spanks him again, because he can, and because Bucky likes it. The trunks are stretchy enough that he can force Bucky's legs wider, pull them down his thighs to expose his twitching hole when he slaps him.

"S-Steve," grunts Bucky, his head dropping down against the mattress.

"Hush," says Steve, but he's smiling as he pulls lube out of his pocket. "I know you need it. You just can't function without a daily fuck, can you? A cock slut like you. You start to get a little stupid. That's okay." Steve slicks up his fingers and reaches down to press two into Bucky, firm. "I've got you. I'm here to stuff you full again."

Bucky makes a strangled noise, face hidden. Steve can work him up with just a few well-chosen words, which is good when they're working within a time limit.

"A little maintenance and you'll be good to go. Wind you up... Like a doll."

Bucky's hole spasms around his fingers. "I still need to shower," he wheezes.

"You said you could do it in whatever time I left you," Steve reminds him. "Did you lie to me?"

"N-no," gasps Bucky. "I don't know why I said that. I like this. Th-thank you, I know I'm...high maintenance."

They've slipped into a game Steve didn’t really intend, but Bucky seems to be into it.

"That's okay," he soothes, warm. "I like to micromanage. You're still a little loose from yesterday. You want to feel me?"

"Yeah—Yes!" gasps Bucky. "I want to feel you."

"Of course you do, needy as you are," says Steve, matter-of-fact.

"Yeah," agrees Bucky, clutching at the sheets beneath him, pushing back into Steve’s touch.

"Tell me what a slut you are, and I’ll give you what you want." Steve presses deliberately against his perineum with his thumb, which elicits a wail just like it always does.

"I am!" sobs Bucky. "I’m your slut, just want you all the time. Need your cock."

"I know," sighs Steve. He pulls his fingers out, Bucky’s whimper making his balls throb as he quickly unbuckles his belt and opens his pants enough to free his cock. He presses the head to Bucky’s slick hole. "And I’m going to give it to you because I’m so thoughtful, taking care of my boy like this."

Bucky nods, turning his face to the side to rub his cheek against the mattress, mouth open. He groans as Steve starts to sink into him.

Steve gives Bucky’s ass a sharp slap. "Tell me how much you like this, how much you need it."

"I...I love it," Bucky says, voice thick.

Steve clucks his tongue and slaps him again, harder. "This is less and less time you have to get ready and look presentable for me. That's not good enough, is it?"

"N-no!" sobs Bucky, jerking and clenching hard around Steve as he pushes in deep. "I love it, I love how big you feel, how you stretch me open and fill me up so good. I love...that you don't wear a condom anymore, how it feels when you come inside me and dirty me up." Bucky is panting, shuddering beneath him. Steve bottoms out, slow, then pulls back out and repeats it. "Love to be a hole for you," slurs Bucky. "Need it, need you. Can't live without it, don't know what I'll do when..."

He sobs again, hides his face, and Steve starts to fuck him in reward for everything he managed to say.

"Good," Steve praises. "Good boy, Buck. That's it. I'm going to give you what you need."

Bucky nods, his eyes squeezed shut and voice hoarse as he says, "Thank you, thank you."

"You're welcome. There you go, baby. Just take it, let me make you feel good just how you need." Steve curls down over Bucky, pinning him down more effectively. He mouths at his sun-warm skin, metallic from the mix of chlorine and sunscreen, kissing his shoulders and neck as he screws into him, ruining his own clothes from the press of Bucky's body to his own.

Bucky shudders beneath him after a while, clenching down with another sob. Steve bites him lightly as he grinds in and follows Bucky's orgasm with his own. He'd drag this out but they really do have somewhere to be and Steve's an asshole but he does want Bucky to feel comfortable tonight.

Pulling out, Steve rubs his hands over Bucky's twitching muscles as they both catch their breath. When he thinks they've both had long enough, he tugs on Bucky's hair. "Come on. Time for a shower."

Bucky whines but lets himself be hustled toward the bathroom, perking up under the hot spray. They might be a few minutes late, but Steve's sure Nat can occupy Becca just fine.

Steve can't resist. He washes Bucky from head to toe, scrubs shampoo into his hair and then rinses it out. He does it for him because he wants to and because Bucky doesn't seem inclined to lift a finger to help, and finally they're both squeaky clean and Steve turns off the water and gets them both toweled off.

Bucky puts on the requested shirt and suit, and a couple of minutes late as he expected, they hustle down to the lobby to meet the girls.

The four of them are definitely the most attractive people here, not that Steve is biased or anything. They get a lot of stares and Steve drinks it in, keeping a proprietary hand on the small of Bucky's back. He takes him around to introduce him to all the executives he's been shmoozing with today and it's a lot like conversation at the gala. Eventually, Steve's done with smalltalk, knowing Bucky will appreciate the refreshments on offer and taking him to one of the large tables to pick at finger foods.

His eyes light up immediately. "Eat up," says Steve. "You earned it."

Bucky fills a small plate with one of everything and then leans up against the side of the table like he's worried if they stray too far it'll get eaten without him. Steve settles right next to him, watching as Bucky puts a small puff of pastry into his mouth and closes his eyes, groaning.

"You know," murmurs Steve, pressing up alongside him and laying his hand directly over Bucky's chest. "You're quite the little tease when you act like that."

Bucky flushes, swallowing what he was eating and turning his gaze on Steve. "Like what?"

"Like whatever you're putting in your mouth is as good as getting your dick sucked," Steve says, speaking into his ear so no one can hear them. He's sure this looks illicit, but he doesn't care. They're off to the side, mostly alone. The crowd is still mingling.

"Caviar is a lot like an orgasm," mumbles Bucky. "I guess it's not so special to you anymore."

"I just enjoy your reactions," Steve says softly. "You're very genuine in everything you do."

Bucky squirms a bit, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. "So, you haven't—" He huffs, fidgeting more. Steve waits him out. "You haven't...um, gotten bored of me?"

It's only the fact that Steve knows so many people are looking at them that keeps him from showing his genuine shock. He clears his throat to buy himself some time and then says, "No, Bucky, I haven't gotten bored of you."

"Okay," says Bucky, cheeks very pink. After a moment, he adds, "Good."

"We’re going to talk about this later and where you ever got an idea like that," murmurs Steve. "But for now, we should dance or else your sister and Natasha are going to put us to shame."

Bucky looks over at the dance floor, something sharp crossing his features as he takes in the sight of his sister and Natasha dancing together. Steve settles a hand on Bucky's back and starts to guide him out. "Is it bothering you? The two of them?"

"No," answers Bucky, letting Steve steer him into position. He gives Steve his focus and smiles. "Thought you didn't like people to know you’re a good dancer?"

"You already know and I'm more interested in showing you off than not," answers Steve truthfully.

Bucky goes easy and warm at that, like he always does, whatever worries that were in his head about Steve growing bored of him or whatever's happening with Becca and Nat lifting. "You like that, huh?"

"Hmm?" asks Steve.

"Having something they can't have and never will."

"I do," admits Steve, leading Bucky through a slow dance. Bucky is warm and pliant in his arms, eyes on Steve, and Steve would be lying if he tried to say this didn't turn him on. "I know, I know, I'm on a power trip. But you're mine, not theirs, and I am going to enjoy that."

"Sometimes I feel like the most expensive thing you own," Bucky admits, that fetching pink flush settling across his cheeks again. "With how much money you pour into...whatever you want me to be like or have."

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" asks Steve, arching an eyebrow.

"No," says Bucky. "I think the fact that it doesn't is what bothers me. I guess...at this point, after never having anything, having everything handed to me on a silver platter feels good. It feels okay to have it, like I deserve it. Once I got over that, I realized I liked being spoiled."

"Good," says Steve firmly. "You do deserve it. I like spoiling you. Sometimes people's interests just align, Buck."

"Yeah," says Bucky, leaning into Steve, head on his shoulder.

They dance for quite a while, until the music picks up and Steve can't get away with swaying to a slow beat with Bucky in his arms anymore, and they rejoin Natasha at the bar.

"Where's Becks?" demands Bucky immediately. Steve puts a hand on his back, steadying, because that tone was sharp. "Um. Sorry," mumbles Bucky.

"Bathroom," says Natasha, unruffled. "Steve, we should say our goodbyes soon."

"Of course," says Steve.

Becca appears a moment later and Natasha hands her a glass of champagne before letting her know they're leaving. Steve and Natasha go to speak to key attendees while Bucky leans in close to talk with Becca.

"You're coming on quite strong, aren't you," Steve says softly to Natasha.

"I'm being played with," retorts Natasha. "That girl knows exactly what she wants and she's decided to play hard to get—she’s made it clear she wants to be chased."

Steve doesn't say anything more on the subject. Nat is never receptive to unsolicited advice and, besides, Steve wouldn't know the first thing about seducing Rebecca Barnes. Bucky is very clearly the softer of the two. "Come on, let's go make Justin Hammer weep."

Natasha smiles. "Yeah, let's."

Steve hurries them through their goodbyes, though, eager to return to Bucky. He's not used to sharing him this much. Even though he's feeling indulgent and happy to be spoiling Bucky with a beautiful vacation, it also puts him on edge to be sharing so much of him with other people. While he loves showing him off, Steve is well aware that his possession of Bucky is more of a temporary lease than actual ownership.

Bucky isn't really tied to Steve, not permanently, and that truth is becoming more and more uncomfortable by the day.

When he and Nat wrap things up, Steve looks back to the bar and can't help but smile. The twins are doing that unconscious mirroring thing they do sometimes, each with a glass of champagne in their hands, hips cocked against the bar, scanning the room side by side.

"Jesus, they look like a professional honey trap," mutters Natasha. "Look at them."

Steve snorts. "Yeah, they could take this room for millions if they really had the desire."

As they approach, the twins turn their sharp, blue-grey gaze to Steve and Natasha. Bucky straightens up, turning immediately to Steve, while Becca's wary, interested eyes fix on Natasha.

Christ. They sure pick 'em, huh.

"May we take you two models to dinner?" asks Steve.

"You may," answers Becca primly.

The key to a Barnes's heart is definitely through their stomach. They ply the twins with rich, decadent food before parting ways for the evening, Steve about done with needing to keep his hands to himself. He wants Bucky right now, and he wants him alone.

"That was amazing," says Bucky, as the door to their suite closes behind them. "I—"

"Take off your clothes," interrupts Steve. He really should let Bucky finish, but he can't wait a second longer. "I'm tired of not being able to look at you and touch you exactly how I want."

Bucky gapes at him for a second, frozen, then he shrugs off his suit jacket and starts stripping frantically out of the rest of his suit. He doesn't rush enough to leave a mess, folding his clothes up and setting them aside, but once he's naked, Steve snaps his fingers and points at the floor.

"Kneel."

Bucky drops to his knees like his strings have been cut.

Steve settles a heavy hand in his hair, turning the day over in his mind. He slides his grip down, cupping Bucky's cheek, his jaw, then circling Bucky's throat loosely. A thumb against his pulse, pushing lightly while he tightens his grip.

Bucky's lips part, breath quickening; Steve can hear it rasp through his constricted windpipe. He loosens his hold again, thumb sweeping soothingly over Bucky's skin. With wide eyes, Bucky is staring up at Steve like he couldn't possibly stop even if he wanted to.

"You're mine," says Steve.

It's not a question, but Bucky answers anyway. "Yeah."

"And I make all the decisions."

"Yes," agrees Bucky. "I'll do whatever you say."

"Hush then, and listen." He needs Bucky to pay attention to this, to know with certainty that Bucky is his, that Bucky wants this. "I want to play a game with you tonight, something different than we've ever done before. No toys, just my hands on you."

Bucky licks his lips. "Uh huh."

"Hey, stay with me. No going under yet," he scolds, other hand coming up to tug sharply at Bucky's hair.

Bucky whines, squeezing his eyes shut at the bright flare of pain, but when they open they're a bit more clear. Steve flexes his grip on Bucky's throat just a little. "The game I want to play, it would mean getting to decide something for you that's very important and very dangerous. And if you don't want to play, it's okay. I won't be mad and we'll do something else. Do you understand?"

Bucky, to his credit, actually seems to ponder this, fidgeting in Steve's hold. "I understand," he murmurs.

"Have you heard of breathplay?"

"No," admits Bucky.

"That's okay. It's where I control your ability to breathe, baby. With my hand around your throat or over your nose and mouth. I've hinted at it before, pinched your nose shut for a few seconds, but tonight, I'd like to take you apart with it. What do you think?"

"You're gonna choke me?" Bucky breathes out, his pupils dilating.

"Yeah," says Steve, applying gentle pressure again. "I'm going to choke you, Buck. Only if you—"

"Okay," says Bucky quickly. "Yeah. I want that."

"You want everything," teases Steve. He digs his fingertips in a little, squeezes tight and then forces Bucky up to his feet with the hand around his throat. Bucky scrambles to follow, stumbling a little, but he goes easily. As ever. When Steve tosses him onto the bed, Bucky bounces and rolls himself onto his back, melting under Steve as he crawls on top of him.

"I'm not going to tie you up for this," says Steve, pinning Bucky's hips to the bed with his thighs. "I want your hands right here." Taking Bucky by the wrists, Steve places both of Bucky's hands on his upper arms. "You don't let go. If you tap twice with either hand, I stop. That's your safeword. Show me."

Bucky obliges with two quick taps.

"Good," praises Steve. "You trust me?"

"Yes," says Bucky. The little fuck sounds impatient.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Relax," he murmurs. He leans in and kisses Bucky, kisses him quiet and stupid, distracts him with his lips and tongue, until Bucky's eyes are closed and he's panting softly, languid. Then Steve keeps kissing him, hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until he fully cuts off Bucky's air.

Bucky makes a—well, it's not quite a noise, really. It's almost the exact opposite of noise, the absence of noise. Bucky's mouth goes slack beneath Steve's and Steve keeps kissing him, soft and gentle. He soaks up the way Bucky looks at him with wide trusting eyes, fingers digging into Steve's arms, holding on tight.

He sees the moment worry starts to filter into Bucky's expression and releases his hand. Bucky sucks in a gasp and moans so loudly Steve is half convinced it'll carry between rooms.

Grinning, Steve brushes a kiss to Bucky's pink, panting mouth. "That so, baby?"

Bucky nods, squirming under Steve like he wants friction on his hard little cock. Steve leans in and kisses his nose, his cheek, finally catches his mouth with his lips. He kisses and kisses until Bucky is whimpering. This time, Bucky doesn't quite relax, buzzing instead with anticipation and desire.

When Steve's grip tightens around Bucky's neck, Bucky's nails dig into the skin of Steve's arm, sharp little blooms of pain that make Steve hiss and bite Bucky's lip in retaliation. He holds on longer this time, the fear taking more time to really settle in. He lets go within moments of it, though, watching Bucky uncoil in a cascade of endorphins.

Bucky sucks in deep, heaving breaths, his chest rising and falling, and Steve puts his free hand over his chest to feel his heart pound against his ribs.

He hands Steve so much power. Puts so much trust in him, to take care of him, to know how to read his body and limits.

Steve's own heart squeezes a little, trembling under the strain of this knowledge.

Under him, Bucky has mostly recovered, his pupils having swallowed up his irises, glazed over completely. He's flushed and lax, though he's obediently kept his grip on Steve's arms.

Such a good, sweet boy. How can Steve let anyone else ever have him? They won't treat him right. Won't spoil him, won't give him what he needs. Won't use him to exhaustion and then care for him until he's himself again. Nobody else in this world will ever understand what Bucky can offer.

Only Steve. Steve's the first one that got to have this and he wants to be the only one.

Squeezing tight again, eyes rapt on Bucky's face, Steve wraps his other hand around Bucky's cock and starts to jerk him off as he slowly, deliberately, deprives Bucky of oxygen.

Bucky's eyes go wide, his lips parting on a strangled moan, hips bucking up involuntarily. He scrambles a bit, a brief struggle where he clearly doesn't know what to do—fight to breathe, or try to get more pressure on his dick? He keeps clinging, though, all ten fingers dug into Steve's arms so hard he's definitely left bruises.

Steve keeps going, pushing Bucky rapidly toward orgasm with his fist wrapped tightly around his cock. His other hand keeps wide, insistent pressure on Bucky's throat. Fear never once enters into Bucky's eyes this time, just desperate pleasure. Steve squeezes and strokes and rubs, using every dirty trick he knows will get Bucky off hard and fast.

Just as Bucky seems to be losing the battle between consciousness and orgasm, Steve releases his throat. With a full body spasm, Bucky gasps for air and comes hot and sticky over Steve's fist.

Sobs overtake Bucky quickly after that, clearly overwhelmed by the extreme sensations he just experienced. Steve milks him through it, his other hand moving to cup the side of his face. "Shhh, it's okay, Buck. It's okay. You did so good. I'm so proud of you. Lov—" Steve swallows hard, taking a breath before he continues. "Look at you. So good."

He leaves Bucky's cock alone when it's clear he doesn't need or want more sensation, instead gathering him into his arms to pet his hair, murmuring softly until Bucky quiets.

Bucky clings to Steve, particularly dazed and needy after he's finished crying himself out. Being so intensely needed is exactly what Steve wants when his brain won't shut up about—

After. Whatever happens then. He doesn't want to keep thinking about it, especially not when they're on this vacation when indulging Bucky is the only priority Steve has.

"M'I gon' bruise?" Bucky mumbles, curled against Steve's chest, his hands clutching at Steve's shirt.

"No," says Steve. He brushes his lips over Bucky's hair, kissing him whenever he shifts or squirms. "You shouldn't. Does it hurt? Sore?"

Bucky grunts. "A bit, when I swallow."

Steve turns his face to kiss his neck apologetically and Bucky huffs a laugh.

"It's okay. I like it. I like feeling you even when we're done."

Jesus. Like a sucker punch to the heart. How is Steve ever going to survive this? He didn't realize how crushingly lonely he was until he found Bucky.

"You were perfect," he says softly. "Took that so well."

"Felt good," says Bucky. "Like maybe I coulda come just from that."

"You're not magic," scoffs Steve. He teases mostly to hear Bucky huff dismissively. "It makes your dick hard, sure, but no stimulation at all? I don't think so."

"Challenge accepted," says Bucky. "Choke me again."

"Maybe another time."

"Mmm," hums Bucky, nuzzling into Steve’s chest. He yawns. "Whatta ‘bout you?"

Steve sighs, kissing his soft hair again. "I’m okay. In the morning you can give me another sweet blow job."

"Yeah, okay," mumbles Bucky.

Steve can’t help the soft sound he lets out as Bucky starts to snore. He’s so fucked. He’s so in love with Bucky.

With one last kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, Steve reaches for the room remote and switches off the lights. He snuggles close to Bucky and lets himself find sleep holding him tight.

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

In the morning, Bucky actually wakes up before him and—wakes Steve up with his hot wet mouth on Steve’s cock.

"Oh god," he groans, flailing slightly as he wakes. "Oh fuck, Bucky."

Bucky makes a soft, smug noise. Steve digs his fingers into Bucky's hair and tugs sharply, groaning.

"You are certainly taking some vacation liberties, puppy," slurs Steve, arching his hips as Bucky takes him deep and swallows him down, throat tight around him. Fuck—that has to hurt. He has to be a bit sore and yet he's doing it anyway, doing it for Steve—

"Oh my god," he moans, shuddering. He rarely feels out of control when they have sex, but he feels it right now, and it's...good. Like this. With his hand tight in Bucky's hair as he pants desperately, wrenched out of sleep by pleasure that burns at the core of him. "Bucky, your mouth...sweetheart. God."

He comes with a blinding orgasm that leaves him limp, chest heaving as he sucks in ragged breaths and Bucky's mouth softens around him, his tongue cleaning up stray mess.

"Good?" Bucky asks hoarsely. They're going to have to get him some honey and tea for his throat.

"Unh," mumbles Steve, still stunned. He takes a deep, steadying breath, scrubbing his nails through his beard. "Buck..." he sighs, opening his eyes and sitting up. Bucky is staring at him with those wide blue eyes, earnest and pleased. "God, you’re beautiful."

Bucky’s grin is soft and sweet. "No conference today right? Just hiking."

"No conference," agrees Steve. He reaches out to gently tug Bucky’s hair, his whole heart feeling too big for his chest with how much he loves Bucky. He has to tell him.

Not right now, though. Not while they’re on vacation with Bucky’s sister.

When they get home. He will.

"C’mon, let’s get dressed and get breakfast. And you need tea."

Bucky grumbles a bit about getting out of bed, still very cute and sleepy as always in the morning despite the initiative involved with sucking dick. Steve can’t help but be amused, dragging Bucky to the bathroom to wash up. They dress in shorts, tanks, and hiking boots. Steve tugs on a baseball cap and slides on a pair of sunglasses before taking Bucky’s hand and heading down for breakfast.

Nat is already there when they show up and she’s ordered a protein-rich breakfast for them: bacon and cheese omelettes, yogurt, and fruit. Steve gets Bucky some tea and Bucky leans against him and sips at it while they wait for Becca to join them.

By the time they get going on the hike the sun is rising and the twins get wrapped up in taking photos on the way. Their guide is directing most of the conversation at them, while Steve and Natasha—who are competitive and extremely gym-minded—take an immediate lead.

When they stop halfway for a longer break, the twins flop down to grab snacks and rehydrate while Steve and Natasha drink from their water bottles but don't even bother to sit down. No point cramping up now.

"That tree looks pretty climbable," Natasha says to him, low.

Steve follows her gaze. "Sure does," he drawls. He caps his bottle and tucks it back into his backpack, which he drops to the ground. "Stakes?"

She shrugs. "Not entirely necessary. I don't want anything from you, Rogers. I just know I'll beat you."

"On three?"

"I'll count."

In the end, Natasha's speed and small stature are a clear advantage when the branch Steve is on cracks and sends him plunging down to another one.

"OH MY GOD!" yells Bucky, his voice echoing up to where Steve is now dangling, an ache in his ribs from where he hit the branch.

"I'm fine!" he calls, grinning down reassuringly at Bucky.

"You're INSANE!" yells Bucky, his hands tugging fretfully at his hair. "Please get down! Steve!"

Steve recovers swiftly, leaping onto the next branch and flipping down onto his feet next to Bucky. There's genuine panic on Bucky's face and he makes a strangled noise as he steps right into Steve's space and throws his arms around him, squeezing tightly.

"I'm fine!" repeats Steve, laughing softly and hugging him back, rubbing soothingly at his back. There's a warmth in him that has nothing to do with the heat of the sun or physical exertion and he feels particularly soft as he comforts Bucky.

Steve can't help but preen a little as they head off again, Bucky stuck to his side like glue. "I'm not letting you out of my sight," mutters Bucky. "You can't be trusted to take care of yourself!"

"Good thing I have you, then." He presses a kiss to Bucky's sweaty hair and allows Bucky to fuss the rest of the way to their destination.

The waterfall itself is breathtaking. It cascades over a decently-sized cliff and pounds down into beautiful clear water at its base. Becca claims Bucky back immediately, shouting about the misty rainbow and dragging Bucky off to jump.

Steve hangs back, letting them have this together. He strips down to his trunks at a more sedate pace than the twins. Natasha is already standing at the water's edge, though she hasn't taken her hiking clothes off yet. Steve joins her and they both watch intently as Bucky and Becca make their way up the steep path to the top of the cliff.

He can't explain it. He knows this is perfectly safe, but his heart pounds a little harder and he doesn't relax until they jump screaming from the top and then resurface. He lets out a breath and then allows himself to grin and cheer loudly.

"That was amazing," shouts Steve, leaning down to take their hands and haul them up from the water. As soon as both their feet touch the ground, he releases Becca and pulls Bucky into his arms to kiss him.

Bucky is soaked, dripping and laughing as he clings to Steve, shaking a little from the adrenaline. Steve kisses him, holds him, pulling Bucky against his chest and tucking his chin over the top of his head.

Natasha and Becca are climbing back to the top, and just before they jump, Steve sees them take each other's hands. Becca shrieks all the way down, while Natasha doesn't make a sound until just before she hits the water. When they resurface and swim over to the edge, Steve releases Bucky to lift them out of the water.

As the girls wring their hair out, Steve turns to Bucky.

"C'mon, Buck, jump with me," he says. He doesn't really wait for a response, just scoops Bucky up, tipping him over his shoulder. Bucky clings to him, letting out a little screechy laugh, and Steve carries him up the cliff.

"Are you going to throw me over, captain?" asks Bucky when they reach the top. Steve hasn't put him down yet, mostly because he likes carrying Bucky around like this.

"No. I'd throw us both over," says Steve. Reluctantly, he sets Bucky on his feet and takes his hand. "At the same time."

Bucky gives him a big, nervous grin, eyes bright. "On three?"

"Yeah," says Steve, bracing himself. "One, two, three—"

They jump together, Bucky squeezing Steve's hand as he yells all the way down. As they sink under the crystal-clear water, Steve pulls Bucky to him and hauls him back up, breaking the surface and then smothering Bucky's exhilarated laughter with a cold, wet kiss.

"Get a room!" yells Becca.

Steve laughs and kisses Bucky anyway and then brushes his cool lips against Bucky's warm, blushing cheek. They all jump off a few more times and then trek back to the van with shave ice on the brain. It's surprisingly domestic, sitting there with Bucky tucked against his side, stealing bites of each other's flavors. Becca and Nat are doing the same across from them, though maybe not sitting quite so close, and Steve can see Natasha's happiness plain as anything.

Pulling his gaze away from the girls, he turns back to Bucky. "Did you have fun today?"

Bucky laughs. "Yes, of course. It was so much fun!"

"What was your favorite part?" murmurs Steve, their heads ducked together over their cups.

Bucky takes a bite and taps his spoon to his mouth while he swallows. "Hmm, jumping off the waterfall, with Becca and with you."

"I liked that part too."

"My least favorite part was when you nearly broke your big dumb head," grumbles Bucky. "You need to be more careful!"

"Buck, I'm fine, really. It was just an accident."

"That you didn't have to have. You shouldn't have been up that tree so fast to begin with without testing the limbs first," insists Bucky stubbornly.

Two months ago, Steve never would have tolerated Bucky speaking to him like this. Two months ago, Steve didn't know he wanted Bucky to speak to him like this—like they're in a real relationship. Distracting himself with his own bite, Steve gives Bucky a small smile. "Okay, I'll be more careful—for you. I promise."

"Well," says Bucky, still sounding sullen, "You shouldn't do it for me, you should just not be an idiot, but I guess I'll take it."

Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky, who raises both of his back, and, oh, Steve likes this. He likes this pushback. He never thought he would, but Bucky is...

Bucky is Bucky.

That night, after dinner, finally back in their room, Steve pulls Bucky into the bathroom, scrubs him down thoroughly in the shower, and then bends him over the end of the bed and eats him out until he sobs.

When Steve wakes up the next morning, Bucky is sound asleep and Steve doesn't disturb him. He's meeting Natasha downstairs to go attend the first workshop of the day, and while he'd like nothing more than to stay here with Bucky, he's actually speaking at one of the events today.

It keeps his mind off the birthday surprise he's been planning for the twins, which he's not...nervous about, exactly, but it does feel a bit like butterflies in his stomach. He's sure Bucky has no idea, that he'll be surprised and touched, that it doesn't matter what Steve has planned, he's going to be emotional about it regardless. That's just how Bucky is. It's more like anticipation, then.

It feels like something boyfriends do. Maybe Steve is worried Bucky will catch on, will finally see through him. It's a gesture of love, not Steve spoiling Bucky because he gets off on it.

Whatever Bucky thinks, Steve will have to deal with that, just like he has to deal with Justin Hammer shifting every conversation to whatever it is Hammer Industries is up to this week.

Actually, that's something he doesn't have to deal with. "If you'll excuse me, I have to make a phone call over the break."

Beside him, Natasha lifts her eyebrow. "Oh? Anything you need my help with?" It's not pleading, because Natasha doesn't beg, but there's an undercurrent of 'you duplicitous traitor’ to her question.

"No," says Steve, smiling brightly. She'll get him back for this, but it's very funny in the moment. "I'm fine. I'll see you all for the afternoon panel."

He scoots out of the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he goes.

Steve: I have a break :)
Bucky: Cool. You wanna come to the cabana? I'll order you food.
Steve: No, I want your cute ass in our room by the time I get there.
Bucky: omg
Steve: Better hurry :) I can see the lobby already :) I'd hate for me to have to use the whole time punishing you :)
Bucky: I'll be there!!

Steve grins and tucks his phone into his pocket, feeling much better about his afternoon as he leaves the convention center and enters the lobby. By the time he gets to the room, he sees Bucky at the door, fumbling with the keycard.

Stepping up behind him just as Bucky gets the door open, Bucky turns and startles a little at his presence. "Steve!"

"Just in time," teases Steve. He puts his hands on Bucky's waist, lifting him up into his arms, and Bucky wraps his legs around Steve's hips, clinging to him with a squeak as he lets Steve carry him inside.

"You're honestly like a caveman sometimes," he grumbles, his cheek pressed to Steve's temple as he wraps his arms around Steve's head. "We get it, you're strong."

"You feel good in my arms," says Steve. He walks Bucky into the room, straight to the bed. "You're so warm. I hope you're not getting too much sun."

"Nah," says Bucky. "Off and on. Can't you smell the sunscreen? I'm slathered in it."

"Yeah," says Steve. "Like synthetic coconut. Loosen up."

Bucky unwraps his legs and Steve sets him down onto his back on the bed. "Is this a lunchtime quickie?" asks Bucky, eyes bright as he looks up at Steve, clearly excited. "Are you seriously going to fuck me and then go back to work?"

"Yes," says Steve, undoing his belt buckle. "And I'm going to leave you with a nice little present to keep me top of mind for the rest of the afternoon."

Bucky's cheeks go bright red. "You can't be serious. We were going to go snorkeling!"

"Maybe tomorrow," says Steve, unsympathetic. "Take off your shorts for me."

"Steve!" complains Bucky, but he's already wriggling out of his shorts while Steve grabs the lube.

"You're getting too used to running your mouth. I bet you're going to need all sorts of correction when we get back from vacation," teases Steve, pushing Bucky's legs apart and hauling him to the edge of the bed. He presses two fingers inside him quickly, more of a warning than real prep. "Have you forgotten what you're for, baby?"

Bucky gasps, squirming on Steve's fingers but bearing down, opening up for him. "No! I'm—I'm yours, I'm for you."

"That's right. Just a tight hole for me to slick up and stick my cock into whenever I want," mutters Steve, doing exactly that.

They both groan as Steve thrusts home and Steve leans in close to kiss Bucky as he starts fucking him with hurried abandon. Bucky is hot and tight and slick around him, clutching helplessly at Steve—his perfect toy. Steve's mouth trails over Bucky's throat. "God, you feel good."

Bucky moans, wrapping around him again, legs and arms, like a clingy octopus. "God, Steve."

"Needed this," murmurs Steve, working his hips deep. "Spent all morning listening to Justin fuckin' Hammer, can't stand that guy, but I knew you'd be on the other side of it. Love coming back to you."

Bucky makes a soft, needy sound, eyes closed, sweat gathering in the hollow of his throat. He keeps tight hold of Steve, holding him in deep as Steve uses him to get off.

It doesn't take long, in the end. Steve only has an hour, and he's going to have to get cleaned up and send Bucky back on his way, too; he still needs something to eat! Bucky is good for him, tight and slick, obligingly open, and Steve comes inside him and then puts a hand on Bucky's chest and shoves him back down into the mattress.

"Stay," he orders, panting. "Keep that ass up. I'll let you come in a second."

"Je-SUS," groans Bucky, glassy-eyed, but he arches his hips back, thighs spread; waits for Steve to wipe his dick off and zip himself back into his pants, then watches him through half-lidded eyes as Steve rifles through his suitcase for the plug he brought.

It slips in easy, filling Bucky up, and Steve gives him a firm pat on the ass. "There you go," he croons. "All full."

"Thanks," Bucky says, voice a little thick. He fixes pleading eyes on Steve.

Oh. Right.

"I suppose you want to come, too," says Steve, pointedly checking his watch.

"Steve—Steve, I have to go back to Becca, ple—" he cuts off, keeping himself out of trouble only barely and only because Steve's feeling merciful.

Steve leans in and wraps his hand around Bucky's cock. "Those punishments for after vacation just keep piling up."

Bucky whines, bucking into Steve's touch, shivering all over. "Ah!"

"Yeah, yeah," murmurs Steve, hurrying Bucky along with a flick of his thumb. "Think the first thing I'll do when we get home is remind you of your place, puppy. Put that big muzzle on your face and that cute little tail in your ass and make you sit at my feet."

"Oh god," moans Bucky. "Yeah, that's—I need it. I need—"

Steve clamps his free hand over Bucky's mouth. "You don't know what you need. Haven't since the day we met. Just a silly puppy begging for a firm hand. Come on, come for me, that's it—"

Bucky comes with a wail, his cock spurting messily, hole clenching around the base of the plug. Steve gives it a hard slap just to get another noise from Bucky before he finally pulls away. He smears his hand across Bucky's leg as he goes, wiping off the come, and grins. "Sorry about your snorkeling plans."

"Hngh." Bucky drags a pillow over his face.

Steve goes to the bathroom to wash his hands and face, drying off and then checking his hair and clothes. No stains. He looks immaculate. He probably has ten minutes to grab a sandwich from the hotel cafe, too.

When he emerges, Bucky is still sprawled on his back on the bed, dick out, chest rising and falling like he's fallen asleep. Steve sighs and walks over, nudging Bucky's dangling leg with his foot. "Hey."

Bucky starts, opening muzzy eyes. "M'awake."

"Sure are," says Steve, taking pity on him and grabbing a wet wipe to clean come off Bucky's skin. "Come on, now, lazy pup. Get those shorts up over that cute little ass and run along back to the beach."

"Fuck," groans Bucky, squirming around, reaching blindly for his trunks. "You're evil." He wriggles back into them and rolls onto his side, sighing.

"I have to get back to work," says Steve, raising his eyebrow. "On your feet."

Bucky slides off the bed, wobbling upright and grunting a little.

"How do you feel?" Steve backs away to the door, grinning smugly.

"Like some power-tripping rich guy shoved a plug in my ass!" cries Bucky, shifting gingerly from foot to foot as he looks around for his room key.

Steve laughs and blows him a kiss before he turns and heads back down to the conference center. He manages to get a sandwich and squeezes in next to Natasha who rolls her eyes at him. "You owe me so big."

"Sure," agrees Steve. "Whatever you want."

"Good. Then you can deal with calling Tony and telling him Hammer is trying to come out with his knock-off software before ours."

"And listen to him bitch and moan for thirty minutes about how much he hates the man? We all hate him. He's Justin Hammer," mutters Steve.

"Yeah and you abandoned me with him. So you can listen to Tony," she says smartly. "I'll go get the twins while you're busy."

"Fine," he huffs, settling in for the afternoon session.

After the presentation finishes, Steve and Natasha part ways and he heads up to his room to make the call on the secure Stark Phone. Tony is predictably riled up and Steve listens to him all the way up until Bucky slips into the room.

"Yeah, I got it, Tony. But I've also got very important plans tonight, so your revenge will have to wait. Say hi to Pepper for me."

He crooks his finger at Bucky.

"Yeah, I will," says Tony. "Say hi to your cute boytoy for me. Ask if he misses me."

"I won't and he doesn't. Goodbye, Tony!" Steve hangs up on him, tossing the phone to the side as he reaches for Bucky and reels him in. "Hey, you."

"Hey yourself," says Bucky, grinning against Steve's lips as Steve kisses him. Steve jostles Bucky a little, a thigh tucked between his legs, and Bucky drops his head, muffling a groan against Steve's shoulder.

"Oh," says Steve with a smirk, sliding his hand over Bucky's ass, squeezing possessively. "I'm sorry, I forgot about your situation."

"My situation?" demands Bucky. "You mean what you did to me? I just spent an afternoon—"

Steve nips sharply at Bucky's earlobe and his complaints die with a stuttering moan. "Hush, now, baby. I'm going to take such good care of you."

He manhandles Bucky onto his feet, marching him into the bathroom, stripping him out of his trunks, and giving him a little shove into the shower. "On your knees, baby," Steve orders as he turns on the water. "I've had a very long, boring afternoon."

Bucky hands go straight to Steve's hips as he joins him, eagerly taking his cock into his mouth.

Steve sighs, all his tension slipping away as the water beats down on them and Bucky's mouth closes around Steve's cock. "So good, Buck, such a good boy for me."

Bucky moans at the praise, hot tongue sliding against Steve as he enthusiastically starts to suck Steve's dick. Steve's not interested in dragging this out, uses Bucky's mouth hard and fast with Bucky's enthusiastic encouragement, all his grunts and moans vibrating straight up Steve's cock to his balls. Steve lets himself sink into the sensation, pushing deep as Bucky swallows around him. His fingers tighten in Bucky's hair and he comes with his own low moan, riding out the pulses of pleasure against Bucky's tongue.

When he pulls out, breathing heavily, Bucky is glassy-eyed and floating. It's so cute how quickly he goes under, especially when he's got a dick in his mouth. Grinning, Steve reaches down and helps him up, holding him tight so he doesn't lose his balance. "So proud of you, baby. You only have to last a little longer, and then you'll get your reward. Can you do that for me?"

Bucky nods wordlessly, already nonverbal. Steve mentally calculates how long they have until they need to be on the beach tonight. Should be enough time to get Bucky off and dress him, with enough time left over so he can back from space. Steve kisses his lips and then reaches for the soap to start cleaning him up. "Close your eyes, gonna scrub you up."

Bucky's eyes drift closed. He sways on the spot a little, so Steve makes sure to steady him as he lathers Bucky up, scrubbing him thoroughly from head to toe. Once he's washed and conditioned his hair, and he's rinsed squeaky clean, Steve turns him around, guiding him to brace his hands against the shower wall. Then he wraps one hand around Bucky's dick, urging him back to hardness with a few firm strokes, reaching down between them with his free hand to grasp the end of the plug.

Bucky's head droops as he lets out a low groan. Steve isn't holding him still or restricting him in any way, letting him rock his hips into Steve's hand and back onto the plug, working himself up to an eager rhythm.

"That's it," Steve murmurs into his ear, "That's it, baby, you earned it, take what you need."

Bucky sobs, arching his hips, Steve firming up his grip, keeping him stimulated. He never lets Bucky do this, control the pace, and it's soon enough that Bucky lets out a high, desperate sound, spilling over Steve's fist.

He sags immediately, Steve tugging the plug free and holding Bucky closes as he grabs the soap again, delving into his hot little hole to clean him out and handling his spent cock gently to finish washing him.

Finally rinsed clean, Steve shuts the water off and grabs a towel. Bucky yawns as he's standing obediently still and pliant, Steve rubbing him down with the towel and wrapping it around his shoulders. "No nodding off," says Steve, chuckling. "We've got a whole evening lined up for you to enjoy."

"You sure we can't just go to bed?" asks Bucky.

"I'm sure." He brushes a kiss to Bucky's temple. "I promise, you'll have fun tonight."

Bucky sighs deeply. "Okay, this is the night you planned, right? The one you wouldn't let me and Becca make reservations for?"

"Yes," agrees Steve, throwing the towel over the rack when he's all done drying Bucky off. He leads him over to the sink. "Brush your teeth, wash your face. I'll go pick out your clothes."

Bucky yawns, big and long, but he nods his head. "Mmm, 'kay."

Steve stifles a laugh and turns away to go lay out Bucky's clothes for him. He picks something casual and light with a jacket in case the temperature on the beach turns chilly. He places underwear and socks on top and matching shoes on the floor next to the bed. When he's all done, Bucky is just emerging from the bathroom. "Everything is right there. Get dressed, do your hair. I'm going to finish getting ready too."

It works out with perfect timing in the end. Steve and Bucky are ready to go just as Natasha texts him to say that the concierge has everything ready, and she's going to pick up Becca.

"Come on, I've got a surprise for you, Bucky." He holds out his hand and Bucky takes it readily. Steve's heart feels full.

Bucky is loose and warm and relaxed against him as they head down to the lobby to meet Natasha and Becca. Steve takes them down the beach, feeling an unfamiliar curl of nervousness take root in his belly.

"Okay," says Steve, "I think they're ready for us."

The sun is setting, lighting up the sky more perfectly than Steve could have anticipated, and as they continue following the path, rounding the corner onto the beach, Bucky straightens up next to him with a soft gasp.

It's set up exactly how Steve rigorously planned, with a roaring bonfire and tables brimming with food and drinks, decorations and lights and candles, music playing softly over the crash of the waves.

Still holding Bucky's hand, Steve turns to them, his heart pounding.

"Happy birthday," he says. "To you both. I know you didn't get to spend your first birthday together actually together so I thought we could celebrate with our own private party."

Becca looks utterly gobsmacked, staring around them in shock, while Bucky instantly looks like he's about to cry. He reaches out and takes Becca's hand with his free one, and they seem to share a moment, but Steve honestly can't take his eyes off Bucky for one second. He's sniffling, the tip of his nose pink, looking so soft and touched and—

"Thank you so much, Steve," says Becca. "This means a lot."

Steve manages to tear his gaze away from Bucky for a moment, smiling warmly at her. "You’re welcome. Happy birthday."

Then Bucky makes a little noise and throws himself into Steve's arms, burying his face in his shoulder. Steve heaves him up and swings him around, hugging him tightly.

He wants more than anything in the world for this to be real, for Bucky to be truly his, and for the contract to be ash. He can't go on like this much longer, he knows that, but he won't ruin Bucky and Becca's party. Instead, he kisses Bucky thoroughly and smiles softly. "Come on, I'll take you down there."

Bucky loops his arm with Steve's and allows himself to be guided down. He's still very watery-eyed, his nose red, but he smiles at Steve. "Thanks again, for...everything. For including Becca and making sure we got to do this."

"You're welcome," he murmurs, squeezing Bucky's hand as they make their way to the planks of wood laid out together as a dance floor on the beach. Steve pulls Bucky close and they start to sway together to the music. "Any excuse to dance with you."

Bucky's cheeks go pink and he bites his lip. "From dodging the dance floor to having one made just for us. I feel like you're evolving."

"Only with you." And maybe it's more honest than he should be, but he doesn't want to lie. He thought he'd given up dancing after everything went to shit with Peggy, but holding Bucky close like this, there's something intimate about it that feels right, something that has very little to do with sexual attraction. Bucky...

Bucky was meant to be held in Steve's arms.

Maybe that's overly sentimental, but Steve's always been one for sentiment, even if he's spent a lot of years trying to hide that.

Bucky huffs and pushes up to press a kiss to Steve's cheek. "I hope you always keep dancing, Steve. You deserve it."

Steve's eyes unexpectedly prickle with tears and he cradles Bucky's head with his hand, guiding his face against Steve's shoulder, mostly to hold him close but also to keep him from noticing that Steve is suddenly fucking crying.

As they dance, Bucky sags more and more into his arms, wrapped fully around him in a tight embrace until they're just swaying gently, barely dancing at all.

"It's been a trial to keep my hands off you," Steve murmurs into his ear. "I'm not used to sharing you this much. Believe me, I'm having a great time, and I don't begrudge you vacation at all, but seeing you half-dressed every day and not just being able to push you down and fuck you whenever I want is...challenging."

"Jesus Christ, Steve," mumbles Bucky, his voice muffled by Steve's shoulder. "Have you ever gone to the doctor about, like, sex addiction?"

"I'm just saying," says Steve. "When we're home again, you're not leaving the apartment. I might not let you leave the bed."

It's helping, a bit, to dig himself out of the maudlin pit he's fallen into, by being a bit crass about it. Focusing on sex, because that's what Bucky would expect him to talk about. It eases his heart a little. Not much, but a little.

They eventually drift off the dance floor, Natasha mixing drinks, the twins making s'mores, and they snack on all the food until they're all warm and full and drunk, sprawled on blankets in the sand.

Steve cuddles Bucky firmly in his lap, until it's time for the fireworks, and Bucky squeezes tightly at his hand, eyes wide, as pops of bright light explode and fizzle over the night sky above them.

Steve can hardly be bothered to look at the fireworks. Instead, he watches Bucky, the colors flashing across his face as he stares in delight and wonder. Steve's heart aches. Gently (tenderly), he kisses Bucky's jaw, just below his ear. When Bucky shivers and presses back against Steve, he continues on.

Steve gives him warm, open-mouthed kisses, trailing down his neck with teasing suction. He hears Bucky's breathing change, going heavy and ragged, feels him squirm. Becca and Nat are nearby, but Steve doesn't give a damn. Bucky is his, Bucky belongs to him.

Bucky catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he stifles a moan, fingers digging into Steve's thighs, for more or in warning of their company, Steve doesn't know or care.

He's startled by the sound of Natasha's voice as she stands with Becca. "Steve, thank you for an amazing dinner. The fireworks were beautiful."

Steve looks up from Bucky's neck, Becca looking away quickly, cheeks pink. Oops. "Thanks for joining us, Nat. Becca, Happy birthday."

"Thanks," she mutters as she picks up her shoes. "See you in the morning, Bucky. Love you."

"Yeah," rasps Bucky. "Night."

Steve waits until Natasha and Becca are out of sight before he takes Bucky's chin in his hand and tilts his face so that he can kiss him properly.

In his lap, Bucky twists to face him, straddling Steve's hips and rising up on his knees to lean into Steve for a deep, full kiss. "Thank you," Bucky murmurs against his lips. "Thank you so much, Steve."

"You're welcome, baby," Steve says, tucking a bit of Bucky's hair behind his ear. "You wanna stay here a bit longer, or head in?"

"Just...just a little bit," says Bucky. "It's so beautiful."

They stay on the beach for maybe another half hour, until the chill in the air settles into their skin, and Steve wraps his arms warm around Bucky as he shivers slightly. "Come on," says Steve, "Time to go to bed."

While Steve would like nothing more than to carry Bucky back to the hotel, he settles for an arm around his waist as they walk back. Bucky is languid, leaning into his shoulder, eyes half-lidded.

When they get back to the room, Steve says, "I'd like to take you to bed now, sweetheart. Might as well go wash up and brush your teeth. Don't bother with pajamas."

Bucky nods, smiling vaguely, still very hazy as he heads off toward the bathroom. Steve strips down himself, using the other shower in the suite to quickly clean off, brushing his teeth and washing his face. When he's all done, he doesn't bother with clothes either.

Bucky is waiting for him on the bed, laid out with the covers turned down and his eyes barely open. "There you are. You were taking forever," sighs Bucky.

Steve chuckles, feeling more than a little indulgent as he climbs up onto the bed over Bucky. "I'm very sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

"Hmmm," says Bucky, pretending to think as he reaches up and wraps a hand around the back of Steve's neck and pulls him down for a kiss. "This will do."

Bucky is loose and happy with food and champagne and Steve's heart is very full. He kisses Bucky for a long while, not trying to hurry anything along, just concentrating on being here with him, giving him something so simple. Steve and Bucky may have aligning kinks when it comes to Steve's extravagant ability to take care of him, but Steve can't help but believe that even if he didn't have a penny, this would be enough.

They kiss until they're rutting together, cocks hard and hot, slick with precome. Steve twines their fingers against the mattress, squeezing Bucky’s hands. Abruptly, Bucky breaks their kiss with a gasp. "Steve! Steve I'm gonna—I—it feels so good, I can’t!"

Steve kisses him soothingly, letting go with one hand to wrap around Bucky's cock as Bucky shudders. "Bucky, you can come," he murmurs. "You can come as many times as you want, whenever you want, okay?"

Whining, Bucky's hips jerk, his face red as he squirms. "I...I want to come with you inside me."

"You will," says Steve. "It's your birthday party, Buck. You can have anything you want. There...there are no rules tonight, okay? I just want you to feel every second of it. You can beg and plead as much as you want, you can come whenever you need to, you can touch me...."

"Oh, god, please!" cries Bucky. "Then please, please make me come, and then fuck me and make me come again, please!" It bursts out of him and Steve can't stand it a second longer, either.

He catches Bucky's mouth in an urgent kiss, jerking him firmly until Bucky shudders and sobs, back arching up into Steve's hand as he spills over his knuckles.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?" asks Steve roughly. The best part is that with a bit of lube, Bucky will be ready for him, after wearing the plug for the afternoon. "Want me to fuck you until you come again on my cock?"

"Yes, I do, I want—I need it, Steve, please!" he cries. "Want to feel you inside of me, want you to come—"

"Okay, okay, you can have it, Buck, you can have all of that," mutters Steve, kissing him again as he reaches across the bed for the lube. When he pulls back from the kiss, he sits up enough to reposition them. He spreads Bucky's legs wide and pulls him down the bed until his ass is flush with Steve's hips and then he pours lube out on his fingers.

It barely takes a cursory two fingers to slick Bucky up, just as warm and pliant as Steve thought he'd be, and then he rubs the head of his cock against Bucky's hole. "Are you ready? Is this what you want?"

Bucky whines sharply, nodding his head. "Yes! Yes, please, fuck me, I need it, I always need it."

Always. Always.

This night is different. Steve is going to make it different, make it a night to remember, give Bucky everything he wants and more. It's a terrible idea, to pour this much sentiment into sex when he's been struggling so hard with the temporary nature of their arrangement, but Steve isn't willing to deny himself this now.

He needs it. He needs it, and he's promised it to Bucky, and now it's not just sex. He's going to make love to Bucky, show him what this could mean, and if that creates cracks in the foundation, then Steve will deal with that when they're back home.

It's vacation, and it's Bucky's birthday celebration.

"That's it," murmurs Steve, guiding himself inside Bucky, pushing deep and muffling his groan against Bucky's heated skin. "God, Buck, you feel so good."

"Steve," moans Bucky, voice hitching. "Please don't tease. Please can you just—give it to me. I want it, I don't want to be patient, I don't want to wait, I just want you to fuck me!"

"Yeah," sighs Steve, rocking deep, adjusting to the tight pressure. "Yeah, you got it, Buck. Anything. It's yours."

"Just want you," mumbles Bucky, reaching for him. Steve lets him, is happy to let Bucky wrap around him, arms and legs pulling him close.

Just want you.

Steve's eyes burn as he rocks into Bucky again and again. "You can have me, baby. I'm all yours," he whispers, catching Bucky's mouth in a kiss.

They both seem to lose themselves as the moment stretches on. Steve works into Bucky, hooking an arm behind Bucky's knee to fold him back, bringing his ass up to just the right angle. Bucky sobs with it, clinging to Steve. "Please, please, please."

Steve's having a hard time remembering why he ever made the rule that Bucky couldn't beg. It makes his cock throb, makes him hungry for more. "Yeah, Buck, I've got you, baby, I've got you, just take it."

"Yeah," gasps Bucky. "Yeah—yes, fuck—"

Steve kisses Bucky quiet, working his cock in and in and in, Bucky tight and hot and wet around him, welcoming him in, needing him. He said it, he said he needed Steve, always needs him. God. Steve loves him, he loves him more than he knows how to say.

Steve loves Bucky and he can't say it, even though it's the only thing he wants to say right now, when he has Bucky like this. He knew he wanted this, didn't want to restrict Bucky in any way, didn't want to play any games.

Not for this. This whole vacation feels like a bubble that's going to burst when they get home.

Bucky cries a lot during sex—cries a lot in general, to be honest—but Steve's not one for tears, and right now, he's crying as he buries his face in Bucky's shoulder. He wants to hide from this big, aching feeling building up inside him, because it's maybe the best thing he's ever felt and that's terrifying.

Bucky goes quiet, arching into Steve's hips, his fingers curling into Steve's hair. He's pulling a little, Steve's scalp burning, body squeezing around Steve as they move together.

Steve doesn't rush.

He gives it to Bucky slow, and when he feels like he can look him in the face again, he lifts his head, cupping Bucky's jaw and kissing him gently.

Bucky whimpers into the kiss, clinging to Steve, matching Steve’s passion eagerly. They kiss for ages, moving together, desperate for each other. When Bucky’s orgasm comes, he cries Steve’s name, soft and high, head tossed back as he arches against Steve’s body.

Steve shudders, moaning at the feel of Bucky’s body fluttering and tightening around his cock. "Bucky…. Honey, I—"

His orgasm takes him by surprise, surging through him. He seals his lips to Bucky’s throat, sucking a mark against Bucky’s hammering pulse as he comes in trembling waves. He collapses down over him, both of them panting and unwilling to part.

It feels like it takes Steve a long time to come down. He's lost in pleasure, lost in Bucky stretched out soft beneath him. Blanketing him with his body, Steve mouths at him with clumsy, lazy kisses, stroking his skin, tucking him against Steve's chest to hold him snug and safe.

Bucky squirms and giggles softly and muffles yawns against Steve's throat, until his eyes open and he grins up at him.

"Wow," he mumbles. "That was..."

"Yeah," says Steve, kissing him again. "I'm going to get up, get a cloth and some water. Do you need the bathroom?"

"Not yet," mumbles Bucky, stretching like a lazy cat as Steve rises. He pauses with one knee on the bed, just watching him, and Bucky wriggles a little, looking shy and coy at the same time. "What?"

"You're very pretty," says Steve honestly. He makes a vague gesture. "Aesthetically pleasing, you know."

Bucky laughs, making a motion like he's going to cover himself and then just brushing his fingers along the crest of his hip, where the muscle dips into his thigh. "Yeah?"

Steve swallows, throat suddenly feeling tight. His voice is rough when he finally speaks again, "Yeah. You’re...beautiful, Buck."

Bucky’s cheeks are pink and he smiles. "I’m glad you think that. I’m...I’m glad you enjoy me."

Jesus. "Yeah, sweetheart. I enjoy you."

"I think you’re beautiful too," admits Bucky, gaze sliding over Steve boldly.

Steve knows what he looks like, what his body looks like. Bucky’s genuine hunger and appreciation is almost enough to drag Steve right back to bed, though, comfort be damned.

"Thank you," he says instead. He takes a steadying breath and smiles back. "Sit tight, I’ll be right back."

He finally manages to pull himself away, taking a moment to splash cold water on his face before he gets what he came for. When he returns, he cleans Bucky up. He takes his time, gently wiping away come and sweat as he kisses him softly. Bucky hums contentedly, and when Steve tosses the cloth away, he seems very pleased to allow himself to be pulled into Steve’s arms again.

Steve presses a kiss to his head, lips brushing against Bucky’s soft hair. "I know...things haven’t always been perfect with me, but...I do hope you’re happy here, Bucky. I want you to be happy with me."

"I am happy," says Bucky immediately. "Of course I'm happy with you. This is..." He nuzzles his face against Steve's shoulder, hiding it a little, his fingers splayed over his bare chest. "Nothing is perfect right away, but I think we're doing really good, now, right?"

"Yeah," says Steve. "Yeah, we are, Buck. You make me so happy."

Bucky's finger scritch into Steve's chest, curling into the hair growing in there. Steve usually gets waxed, just like Bucky, but he missed his last appointment during a particularly busy week, and didn't have time before they left. It's grown in a bit, itchy at first, but now it's long enough for Bucky to tug on lightly.

"Hey," mumbles Steve.

"Hey, yourself," Bucky says smartly. "Can't believe I didn't really notice this. Usually you're, like, totally hairless."

"Didn't have time," says Steve. "Is it a problem?"

"No," says Bucky quickly. "The opposite of a problem."

"Oh," says Steve. This is, oddly, new territory for Steve. He was a swimmer in high school, so he shaved for that. Then he was on the swim team at West Point, part of his scholarship, and then he met Peggy. And Peggy had liked the smooth chest, so he kept it up.

He's never, ever had a partner want him to have hair. "So you like it?"

"Yeah," says Bucky, licking his lips. "I like it a lot."

Steve lets out a startled laugh. He reaches up to pull gently at Bucky's hair. "You're full of undiscovered kinks, aren't you? I can't touch you without something revealing itself."

"Maybe it's just you," mutters Bucky, looking up at Steve.

"Yeah?" asks Steve, letting his voice drop. "You just walking around, hot for me to fuck you all day, every day?"

Bucky's eyes flutter as he lets out a moan, nodding his head. "God, you know I am, Steve."

"Just my hungry little slut, huh? So sweet and pretty for me."

"Steve," groans Buck, his body arching against Steve's. "Steve, are you gonna fuck me again tonight?"

"Once wasn't enough for a boy like you, hm?" He leans in, catching Bucky in a rough kiss. This at least feels safe and familiar.

"I can go again," Bucky breathes, fingertips pressing into Steve's skin. "It's my birthday, isn't it? Well, my birthday celebration. You said."

"Brat," chuckles Steve, nipping at Bucky's lower lip. "It is your birthday celebration, Buck. You can have anything you want. You wanna get fucked again, I'm happy to oblige, but you can ask for anything you like."

Bucky sucks in a breath, eyes bright. His eyes dart down to Steve's lips, then back up again. He seems to be considering this carefully, evidently doing some serious thinking about what he wants from Steve.

"Maybe..." Bucky leans in, lips brushing at Steve's skin. "Maybe, instead of just fucking me again—"

"—just!"

"You know I don't mean it like that!" protests Bucky, laughing. "But you already fucked me, and if I get to choose, then.... Maybe I want you to suck my dick. And maybe I want you to use your fingers on me while you do that."

"I can do that," says Steve. "You want my mouth on you?"

Bucky's hand cups his cheek, scratching at his beard. "Yeah. I really do."

Steve grins and leans in for a quick kiss before he starts to slide down Bucky's body, spreading more kisses across his flushed skin. He spends some time detouring across Bucky's nipples, enjoying the way he gasps and squirms, but he doesn't drag it out. His sweet birthday boy wants his cock sucked and that's exactly what Steve is going to give him.

As he wraps his mouth around Bucky's stiff length, Bucky lets out a pretty sigh, hands going automatically to Steve's hair and clutching. Steve would reprimand him, but it feels good, Bucky's desperation and desire for him. He gives his full focus to Bucky's cock at first, but eventually he fumbles for the lube and slicks his fingers.

Bucky is already nice and pliant from the plug and Steve's cock, so he opens easily to Steve's touch. He slides two fingers in, teasing with a slow, gentle press. Bucky gasps, ass clutching around Steve's fingers. "Ah! Ah, please...."

Steve hums and crooks his fingers and Bucky's next plea cuts off into a long moan. Steve works him using every filthy trick he's learned on Bucky. Bucky's legs wrap around his head, clutching at him, the delicate skin of his inner thighs rubbing against Steve's beard. He's going to be covered in a rash by the morning, but he doesn't seem to care. "God, Steve—more, I need more, please, want another finger."

Such a demanding creature.

Unrestrained, he's always more, please, need, want.

It warms Steve, fills him up with how much Bucky is enjoying this, and the theme of this vacation is, after all, indulgence. Bucky gets whatever he wants.

Steve slips another finger in, rubbing deep as he maintains firm pressure with his mouth, Bucky whining and arching his hips up and then grinding down. He wants both sensations at once, and Steve's lip quirks up around Bucky's cock.

Greedy. A hedonist, through and through.

"Please," whispers Bucky, swallowing a groan. "Steve, oh my god!"

Steve realizes he hasn't been moving his mouth or his fingers. He bobs his head up and sinks back down as he fucks Bucky deep on three fingers, and Bucky writhes, hips jerking, as Steve steadily works him to completion until he finally comes with a ragged cry.

Pulling off of Bucky softening cock, Bucky's legs fall open around Steve's shoulders. He kisses Bucky's inner thigh and rubs a thumb into the crease, where his pulse throbs hotly.

"Good?" he says, voice a little hoarse.

Bucky makes a strangled noise, covering his face with one hand.

Then he gives Steve a thumbs up.

Steve is flooded with that familiar surge of fond affection, so deep he's sure he could lose himself in it forever. He focuses instead on getting Bucky cleaned up again so they can go to sleep. Tomorrow is the last day of the actual conference and then they'll have several more days to lounge on the beach.

He pulls Bucky close and they fall asleep tangled together, Bucky's lips brushing the skin over Steve's heart as they drift off.

In the morning, they order breakfast in bed, Bucky annihilating a stack of blueberry waffles while Steve sips at his coffee.

"Tonight is the farewell dinner for the conference,” says Steve. “I want you to wear the navy blue suit with the light blue shirt and that cute little bowtie you bought. Wear the cufflinks with the sapphires in them. I want you to look expensive. And the baby blue lingerie underneath."

Bucky looks up, chewing rapidly on the bite in his mouth and swallowing. "Okay, what time should I be ready?"

"Seven. I'll be busy all day so I won't be up until just before to get ready myself. You and Becca should keep yourselves busy today. Anything on the agenda?"

"Well, snorkeling! If I don't get a lunchtime call again," huffs Bucky.

Steve grins. "I promise. Today's much too hectic for that and since you're being so polite," says Steve pointedly, "I'll have mercy on you and not leave you squirming all day."

Bucky goes contrite but then he smiles slyly at Steve. "I really liked last night. Thank you."

Steve goes tender immediately, leaning in to brush a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "You're welcome, baby. I enjoyed it too."

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

Steve lets Bucky lounge around in bed after they finish eating breakfast while he disappears into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Bucky rolls over, burying his face in Steve's pillow and inhaling deeply before he settles back into a lazy doze. Steve wakes him up again a little while later with a hand on his back, lips descending on the top of his head. "Seven sharp," he rumbles, ruffling Bucky's hair. "See you later, Buck."

"Mmm," yawns Bucky. "Have a good day."

Steve leaves, the door closing behind him, and Bucky yawns again and rolls over, reaching for his phone.

Bucky: u up?
Becca: yah
Bucky: i already ate
Becca: me too, it's ok
Becca: floaties in the pool?
Bucky: yah
Becca: meet you downstairs in like...... half an hour
Bucky: 👍

Bucky drags himself out of bed, taking a quick shower. There's a creeping red rash all down his inner thighs and for a second he stares in horror, wondering if he's picked up some horrible infection. Then he remembers that Steve gave him a blowjob while Bucky did his best to smother him with his thighs last night and he relaxes, toweling himself off and applying some aloe. He puts on a pair of long trunks and a tank top, grabbing his phone, keycard, and sunglasses before heading down to the infinity pool with the floating bar.

Becca is waiting, dressed in a much sportier two piece, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail, sunglasses perched on her head. "Hey," she says. "Still want to go snorkeling, later?"

"Yeah, I'm game," says Bucky. His gaze drops to the top of her bare shoulder, where there's...a hickey? Or a bite mark? ...Oh, god.

Becca tenses up a little, her face flushing. "Listen," she says sharply. "I won't say anything about how Steve had his fangs in your neck last night if you don't say a word about me and Natasha. Okay? We both know what happened and neither of us need details."

Bucky lets out a breath, his cheeks burning and he turns away. "Right, you’re right. Let’s...get drinks."

"Don’t we have that thing tonight?" asks Becca, but she follows him to the floating bar.

"Yes, and so we’ll stop drinking after lunch, have a nap, and then get ready for it," Bucky says.

"How reasonable," she laughs. "Can’t wait to have a hangover tonight. Let’s do this."

"Wait, I forgot about snorkeling. Okay, we have drinks but we don’t get totally toasted. We snorkel. Then we lunch and drink some more. Then we nap from 3-5, and then we get ready."

Becca snorts, waving over the bartender and ordering two giant drinks with umbrellas. They snag a couple of the large floating lounge chairs and sprawl out on them, soaking in the early morning sunshine while the pool’s current gently pushes them around. At 11, they’ve got a healthy buzz but are functional enough to head toward snorkeling.

"So, what’s the deal with you and Steve?" asks Becca as they cross the beach.

"God, I thought we weren’t talking about it? I thought we agreed?" asks Bucky, horrified.

"I don’t mean sex, dummy. I probably shouldn't even be saying this—"

Bucky huffs. "Then why are you?"

Becca ignores him, continuing, "I mean...you realize that was a big romantic gesture last night, right? The whole birthday celebration?"

Bucky scowls at his feet, kicking at the sand. "He just likes doing that kind of thing. It’s a thrill for him, that’s all."

God, Bucky can feel Becca's eyes on him, and when he looks up, she's giving him a scornful look. "Wow," she says. "I didn't think you were this stupid."

"Hey!" he snaps. "What the hell? It's literally the basis of our relationship: he buys me stuff and spoils the fuck out of me and I let him do whatever he wants to me physically."

"You can't be this dumb," says Becca, shaking her head. "You can't be! You're my brother!"

"Stop saying that," says Bucky. "He's always gone overboard with that stuff. Rich people, am I right? Wild."

"Maybe you didn't see the way he looked at you all night," says Becca. "But I sure did."

"Like he wanted to devour me?" says Bucky. "I really thought we weren't going into the details."

"No," says Becca. "Bucky, I'm serious. He didn't have to do any of that. He already gave you a birthday present, right? Like, an object. Was it disgustingly expensive?"

Bucky nods reluctantly. "He gave me a watch. It's got, like, crystals in it and stuff."

"Right. And then when we were both together to celebrate, which he knows means a lot to you, he threw us a surprise party. To make you happy. Because he loves you."

Bucky's entire face goes hot. He could honestly pass out right now. "He's... That's not... We're not... Becca," he protests, knowing he sounds exceptionally whiny. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"We both know I was not his biggest fan at first," says Becca stubbornly. "I kept asking him what he got out of this. And now I know. That emotionally-stunted, power-tripping asshole is in love with you."

Bucky feels more and more panicked every time Becca says it. He’s in love with you.

God. She’s crazy. She’s not right. Steve’s not in love. He’s...

He’s indulgent and doting and comfortable enough with Bucky to show a softer side. That’s not love. It's something else. It's trust, what their whole BDSM arrangement thing is supposed to be about.

Not love.

Becca needs to keep her theories to herself. Bucky's going to get a fucking complex. He takes a steadying breath and makes himself meet her eyes. "I know you mean well, okay. I get it. But you telling me that Steve's in love with me isn't helping. It's the opposite of helpful, actually."

"Bucky—"

"No, okay? Listen to me," he snaps, blowing out a breath when she falls silent. "We get along. We're...friends, friendly at least, but he's my boss. For all that we're on this vacation and he invited you and it's all fun and games... It's actually not any of that. This is my job. Steve is my job. And I don't need you trying to soften that or whatever you're doing by making it some Pretty Woman fantasy or something. Leave it alone."

Becca's face goes very intentionally blank and Bucky has to struggle through the urge to beg her forgiveness. "Okay, if that's what you want, I won't say another word about your relationship with him."

"That's what I want. Thank you," says Bucky, taking another calming breath. "Can we please snorkel now?"

She gives him a hesitant smile. "Yeah, sure, Bucky. Come on."

The tension mostly fades over the next couple of hours. They spend two hours snorkeling, which is incredible. Bucky's never seen anything like it, kicking leisurely through deep blue water, the sunlight rippling down. They see hundreds of beautiful fish, though the highlight is definitely a sea turtle and an octopus.

When they get tired, they head back to the hotel, where they devour their lunch, have another drink each, and then part to go up to the rooms to shower and nap.

Clean and dry, Bucky collapses into bed and passes out, pushing everything out of his mind.

He wakes up just before five, which is more than enough time to get ready. He lounges in bed a bit, feeling a little sorry for himself, before he gets himself up and goes to pee and wash his hands and his face. When he's a little more awake and clear-headed, Bucky digs around in their luggage to find all the pieces of clothing Steve listed out this morning.

Laying out the lingerie first, Bucky spreads out the requested suit, shirt, bowtie, and cufflinks.

It's a little bit thrilling, sitting on the clean white sheets and squirming into the lacy silk panties, tucking himself into them neatly. He takes his time with the stockings, smoothing them slowly up his legs to avoid catches or runs. Then the garter belt, which he clips to the tops of the stockings, shivering a little.

There's very little that he and Steve do together that makes him feel as expensive and precious as lingerie. It also helps Bucky reinforce what he knows to be true: he is an object that a wealthy businessman enjoys. That's it. That's what this is. Steve's kindness is just a sign that Steve is a good man beneath his hard exterior.

He lets himself slip into the soft, hazy headspace of belonging to Steve as he finishes getting ready. Not quite subspace, but comfortable; he's drifting nicely as he combs his hair into place, the door opening to admit Steve. His gaze slides over Bucky and he nods. "Good boy."

Bucky shivers. "Thank you."

He can do this. He can be this for Steve, a pretty boy on his arm.

"Go sit and wait for me. I'll be ready soon," says Steve, brushing a kiss to Bucky's cheek.

When Steve is ready (looking perfect, even in the twenty minutes he had to get ready, damn him), he takes Bucky's hand and leads him down to the lobby where they wait for the girls. "Natasha said she would bring Becca down."

"Okay," says Bucky, leaning into Steve's space. "Anyone I should work hard at charming?"

Steve shakes his head, smiling softly. "No, you never have to work too hard at charming anyone, Buck."

"Oh," says Bucky, suddenly hearing Becca's words echoing in his head. He takes a sharp breath and forces a grin in return. "Well, as long as that applies to you too."

"Obviously." Steve reaches out and straightens his bowtie, fingertips brushing his throat. "Can't wait to take all this off of you and see my pretty girl underneath."

Bucky's cheeks flush, his skin prickling hotly. "Me too," he whispers. "Kinda wish we didn't have to spend hours at this party first."

"That's only going to make it better when I finally lay you out in bed and strip you down, honey," murmurs Steve. His big hands settle on Bucky's shoulders, smoothing out his suit. "It's only a couple of hours. Think of all the tiny little finger foods you're going to get to eat while we're here."

Bucky leans into Steve as he puts an arm around Bucky's waist.

The elevator doors open and Natasha and Becca step out. Natasha is wearing black, her hair perfectly curled, while Becca is wearing red. They're both in heels, which brings Natasha up just under Bucky's nose but makes Becca taller than him and Steve both. They look incredibly intimidating.

As they approach, Bucky lets out a low whistle. "You both look stunning," he says, smiling.

Becca grins, ducking her head a little. Natasha's red lips curl into a little smirk. "Thank you, Bucky. Are we all ready to go in?"

"I need a drink in my hand, stat," says Becca.

"Do you think they have bacon-wrapped scallops?" asks Bucky.

Natasha and Steve both crack up immediately.

Bucky feels his cheeks heat again but he ignores it, looking to Becca. "I'll get the snacks, you get the drinks."

"Deal."

"We have to go in first," says Natasha. "Come on, you two."

Natasha and Steve herd them in and straight to the aforementioned food and beverages. They stay near, murmuring quietly together as they size up the room and sip at their own drinks. Bucky has approximately ten bite sized morsels of amazingness and two glasses of champagne before Steve leans in and murmurs, "You won't have enough room for dinner if you keep going like that. Walk with me? Help me mingle?"

Bucky wipes his mouth off with a napkin and nods, picking up a third glass and hooking his arm through Steve's. Steve smiles indulgently and Bucky takes a breath. It's because they're on vacation that Steve is going so easy on him. Bucky should focus on being good for him.

Steve leads him around and they say hello to a whole host of people, some of which Bucky remembers from the opening night meet and greet, though mostly just by face and not their names. A particularly smarmy man struts up to them while they're talking to a lady from SHIELD Inc., interrupting the conversation without even the pretense of manners. "Steeeve, you never did introduce me to your date. Tell me all about him. He's been here with you all week, hasn't he? About time you got over that ballbuster."

Steve goes stiff next to him and turns toward the interloper. "Justin. I thought you'd left early?"

"Me? And miss this quaint little shindig? Never." He turns to Bucky and holds out his hand. "Hi there, I'm Justin Hammer, Hammer Industries."

"James Barnes," says Bucky, taking his hand and shaking it professionally, even though he's getting an immediate skeevy vibe from this guy. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hammer."

Hammer lets out a low, approving whistle, his gaze dragging down Bucky. "Well, well. Rogers, I didn't think you had it in you. I guess everyone has a midlife crisis, huh? Picked yourself up a nice little boytoy."

"O-kay," says Steve sharply. "How did you find the conference, Justin?" His grip on Bucky is tight, possessive, and he looks a lot like he's trying to rip Justin Hammer apart with his eyes.

"Oh, dull," says Hammer, waving it off. "The best part of this is the pleasure of your company, getting to know your new squeeze! How'd you two meet?"

For a brief, horrible second, Bucky can't think of what to say. He knows they've talked about this before, he's recited it to so many people at other parties, but his mind just goes blank. "Stark Industries," he manages to say, feeling a bit like he just vacated his own body.

Hammer's smirk is sharp. "Isn't there some saying about that? Shitting where you eat? Well, clearly it's working out."

"I'd left before we started seeing each other," Bucky says on autopilot, the words blurting from his mouth. God, should he have said that? No one's ever pushed on the topic of how they met, satisfied with something easy.

"Convenient," says Hammer, his eyes drag over Bucky again and then back to Steve, who looks like he's being forced to swallow glass. Hammer winks at him. "But I guess that's the appeal. His...convenience?"

Bucky feels dizzy. Did this stranger just call him easy in a room full of Steve's colleagues? Imply that he's a slut, a bought and paid for toy for Steve?

Bucky knows those things are true, but he's never been made to feel like it was something bad—something to be ashamed of—by someone in public. When Steve has blatantly called him those things in private, Bucky has loved every second of it. Now, standing here in front of Justin Hammer, he feels less than two inches tall and worse than scum.

He knows he's supposed to say something, maybe laugh it off? Agree with him? Make a joke at his own expense? But he's frozen.

Luckily, Steve takes that moment to react. With his left arm firmly around Bucky, he reaches forward with his right, and Hammer instinctively takes it. Then Steve tightens his grip, dragging Hammer in very close.

Close enough for Bucky to hear him hiss, "If you ever so much as look at Bucky again like you want to insult him, I'll turn you inside out and drop your asshole to the floor for everyone to see. We're about to drive you out of business, Justin. If I were you, I'd hold my head high and take it, rather than resort to petty backtalk."

Then he kisses Hammer on the cheek.

"Take a step back, now," murmurs Steve, voice deadly. "Smile, laugh, and excuse yourself from the party."

Hammer lurches back the second Steve releases him, giggling a little hysterically. There's a haunted look in his eyes. "Always a pleasure, Rogers," he half-yells, before turning tail and running from the ballroom.

"C'mon," says Steve. "Let's get some fresh air outside."

Bucky lets himself be escorted from the room, out of the balcony doors that line the ballroom and face the ocean. There are torches lining the railing and the moon is high in the distance. It’s beautiful.

Bucky feels like he’s seconds from bursting into hysterical tears. It’s so stupid. Justin Hammer means nothing to him. His words mean even less. But combined with what Becca told him earlier today, he’s unsettled and unmoored, lost in something he realizes is too big for him.

Steve keeps touching him though, keeps his arm hooked around him as he takes Bucky to the far end of the balcony away from anyone else. When they get there, he pulls Bucky in front of him and brushes a kiss to his temple, combing his hair from his face. "I’m sorry you had to put up with that. I’m sorry he thought he could talk to you at all. Are you okay?"

Bucky takes a shaky breath and for a split second he debates lying and saying yes. When he opens his mouth though, he chokes on the word and then closes it again. He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry because some asshole was an asshole. He’s not that big of a crybaby.

He looks away from Steve and shrugs. He can’t speak right now.

Steve seems to understand, his mouth a thin line as he lets Bucky process whatever emotions he's feeling. He crowds Bucky just enough, keeping his hands on him but letting him hide his face. Bucky swallows down the humiliation and anger and confusion, the uncertainty, because the thing that's throwing him out to sea to drown right now is how kind Steve is being.

How kind Steve has been this entire trip, how indulgent and—and loving he's been.

Whatever he expected to hear from Becca today, it wasn't a lecture about how Steve Rogers is in love with him. Now Bucky can't get it out of his head, all through getting belittled at a fancy party by a rich competitor, while Steve treats him like a real partner rather than what Hammer said he was: a convenient boytoy.

He tried to brush it off, but now he's not so sure. Could Steve have feelings for him? What does that mean? He's not supposed to. This is meant to be an arrangement, it's sex, companionship, it's ownership. It's not love! It can't be love!

What does he do with love? Return it? He doesn't even know what it's supposed to feel like. He can barely process Becca's love and only because she's been a part of his soul his whole life, present or not.

"Bucky," Steve murmurs in a low voice. "Breathe. You're going to hyperventilate."

"What?" gasps Bucky, startled out of his spiraling thoughts.

"Take a deep breath, hold it, count to five, exhale, and repeat," orders Steve. "C'mon. With me."

Bucky does, finds it easy to give into Steve’s stern voice, his firm command. He takes a deep breath, mirroring Steve, and holds it. Steve counts for him. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Let it out now."

Bucky obeys.

"Good, that’s good, Buck. Do it again."

Steve coaches him through several more breaths until finally Bucky remembers how to speak again. "Thank you," he whispers. "I’m sorry I...I should have stuck to the script. I shouldn’t have told him—"

"Hey," says Steve. "None of what happened was your fault. Hammer is a grade-A asshole. He’s petty and awful."

"He was just telling the truth," says Bucky, shrugging miserably.

Steve looks pained at that, shaking his head. "No, Bucky, that’s not—"

"Do you or do you not pay me?"

"I...I provide for you, yes, but—"

"Did you or did you not start this arrangement because it was convenient?"

"I started this arrangement because I wanted you," says Steve stubbornly.

"Fine. You wanted me and you wanted me to be convenient. So here I am. Maybe that guy is just an asshole but you don’t...have to pretend, okay? I know what this is."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset when it's flung back at you like an insult," Steve says stiffly. He looks upset, brow furrowed, mouth downturned. "He is an asshole and his judgement doesn't matter. I'm not pretending that it's different, I know that it is. What we do is our business."

Steve is talking with enough command in his voice that Bucky lets his tone act as orders, nodding and sagging into Steve's firm grip. He is tired, and hurt, and he doesn't want to argue about this, when his heart feels so fragile.

"We're basically done here," says Steve. "I'm going to say some goodbyes and let Natasha know we're leaving. Why don't you go up to the room and get undressed. Would you like me to take your mind off things, or would you rather just go to bed?"

This is his job. Isn't that what he said to Becca? Steve is basically offering him a sick day but Bucky feels guilty taking it. Besides, if there's one person in this world adept at driving Bucky out of his head, it's Steve. Subspace sounds pretty good right about now.

"I don't want to go to bed," says Bucky. "I want you to take my mind off things."

"Okay," says Steve, giving him a squeeze and a quick kiss. "Then I expect my pretty girl on display for me when I get upstairs. Go on."

Bucky turns and leaves, shooting Becca a reassuring smile and a wave when she looks at him across the ballroom. He doesn’t really want to talk to her right now, especially not after their conversation earlier. So he shakes his head when she starts toward him and exits from the room. All he has to do is make it upstairs, take off this suit, and Steve will see to the rest.

He tugs his bowtie loose as soon as he’s inside their suite, toeing off his shoes. He casts everything off piece by piece and doesn’t bother being tidy about it. Let Steve punish him for it. He wants that tonight. He can’t stand another second of Steve’s kindness and patience. Of Steve’s supposed love. Not when he has no idea how to return it, how to be that for Steve.

By the time he makes it onto the bed, wearing nothing but fancy lingerie, he hears Steve at the door, the soft beep of the lock as he puts in the keycard. Bucky shivers.

There’s a pause when Steve enters, no doubt taking in the mess Bucky has left on the floor. Bucky hears him stop walking and then the soft rustle of fabric as he picks each piece up.

That’s it. Bucky knows he’s in for it now.

Except that’s not what happens. He watches as Steve drapes the clothes over the chair in the corner and slowly starts to take off his own suit. "There’s my pretty girl," he murmurs, gaze sweeping over Bucky. "You look so good, baby."

If they were at home, Bucky would be in such big shit right now.

He knows it's vacation, that Steve told him he's not getting punished, but it's what he wants. That doesn't count! If he wants it, and Steve is committed to giving him everything he wants, then he should give him a punishment.

Bucky squirms, feeling too big for his own skin. He's not even hard yet. If Steve could just be rougher with him, it would be so much easier to remember what he is and what he's supposed to do.

As Steve reaches the end of the bed he shrugs off his jacket and Bucky impulsively sits back up, kneeling forward to reach out and grab Steve by his tie, tugging on the end.

Steve raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth curls up, and he has that dumb look on his face again that Bucky can't fucking stand right now.

"Please can you just... I can't wait," Bucky says. "I need you to take my mind off things. You said you would."

"I'm going to," says Steve, one knee on the bed as Bucky holds the tie taut between them. Steve's jacket hits the floor. "I'll give you anything you want, sweetheart."

"I want you to be rougher," huffs Bucky. "I don't want you to be sweet right now."

A frown crosses Steve's brow, but his expression flattens into neutrality. "Okay, if that's what you want, Buck."

"Yeah, that's what I want," he insists, tugging on Steve's tie again.

Steve studies him a moment and then surges forward, catching Bucky's mouth in a kiss. It's rougher, closer to what Bucky needs, and he sighs into it, lets himself be knocked flat by Steve's bigger, broader body. Steve's teeth scrape against his lips, tugging and teasing as he buries a hand in Bucky's hair. He tugs firmly, forcing Bucky's head back, and he whines, dizzy with relief.

"Yeah, that's—please," he gasps, wanting more, wanting Steve to be harsher.

But Steve doesn't punish him for the plea, only breaks their kiss to drag his lips along Bucky's jaw and down his neck to his fluttering pulse, sucking a mark against the skin. "That's it, that's my eager girl. So pretty, gonna look so good on my cock, baby."

The words are too kind, still, too sweet, and it makes his stomach sour, the building arousal going cold. "No! No, I need—I need you to punish me."

"What?" asks Steve, going stock still over him.

"I said ‘please’ and that's against the rules. I need—I want you to, Steve. Slap me, make me feel it," he pants.

"Buck—"

"Slap me!"

Steve frowns again but raises his hand and slaps Bucky across the face. The brief sting isn't nearly enough.

"Harder!" he demands, breathless with it, angry that Steve won't just—just do what Bucky needs, make him feel small and unimportant, insignificant, like Bucky knows he is. "Fucking hurt me!"

Steve's expression cracks open, his mouth dropping open and his eyebrows rising up. Hurt flashes across his face, which is bizarre, because Bucky is the one who asked Steve to hurt him, so why is he looking at him like that? Then, just as quickly, the hurt fades to something pained and reluctant, and Steve shakes his head. "Bucky—no. No, I—"

"Please," begs Bucky, his voice cracking as he starts to cry, the tears he fought down earlier threatening to engulf him. "Please, I'm asking you to, I want you to! Please just punish me—"

"Not here," Steve says, still frozen above him, horror writ large across his face. "No, I won't, we're not doing that, I can't."

"But I want you to," Bucky repeats desperately, letting go of Steve's tie to grab his wrists. "Please, just make me feel—"

"That's a red from me, Bucky," Steve says sharply, voice firm, and it hurts worse than the slap across the face did, like a physical blow. "I won't."

Bucky stares at him, mouth open, reeling from the sick look on Steve's face and the expression he put there.

Did Steve just safeword?

Steve's mouth sets in a firm line, his eyes shining as he gently untangles Bucky's hands from his wrists. "I think we need to stop this right here," he says softly, voice unsteady. "This isn't right. This doesn't feel right."

"Are you—" ending this, leaving me, making me leave, "—mad at me?" he whispers, horrified.

"No," says Steve, quiet and gentle. He starts to pull back, to shift off of Bucky. "I just... I think we shouldn't be having any kind of scene right now, not after—not when there's unresolved issues and you're still clearly upset about what happened."

Steve sounds halfway to tears, barely holding it together. Bucky watches in shock as Steve gets up and leaves the bed entirely, not meeting Bucky's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, eyes burning as more tears spill down his cheeks. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have... It's fine, Buck. I just think we should... get dressed for bed, to sleep." He's still not looking at Bucky. "We can talk in the morning about everything. We should just get some sleep tonight."

"Okay," he agrees, mostly out of desperation to fix this. He doesn't know what he did wrong, not exactly, but he feels like shit and nothing is right about how it all happened. "I... I'm going to put on some pajamas."

Steve nods. "I'm just going to shower. You can go onto sleep whenever you're ready. I might... sleep on the couch."

And then Steve disappears into the bathroom.

Bucky sits back on his elbows, stunned.

Shame washes over him, rejection and fear. He hears the shower kick on. Slowly, Bucky peels off the lingerie, piece by piece, folding it carefully and putting it away. He pulls out sweats and a t-shirt, dressing himself numbly and then rolling himself up into the blanket, staring at the wall with his back to the door.

Steve is quiet when he comes out, turning off the lights and not even approaching the bed where Bucky has burritoed himself. He hears him sit on the couch, the shift of cushions and cloth, and then it's quiet.

Bucky hides his face in the pillow and swallows his sobs.

He can't even remember the last time they didn't sleep in the same bed by choice.

Bucky’s head is a mess. He plays the evening over and over again in his head. Where did it go wrong? What did he do? How could he be better?

He just...he wanted—

He wanted Steve to not care about him.

And Steve couldn’t do that. Steve couldn’t hurt him, not with Bucky assuming he didn’t care, even if he wanted him not to care.

Bucky cries himself to sleep.

He wakes up the next morning with a horrible headache, his head pounding from crying too much the night before and his eyes crusted shut.

When Bucky manages to untangle himself from the truly impressive blanket burrito he nested in overnight, he sits up and squints at the sunlight streaming through the windows, trying to reorient himself.

"Morning," says Steve, sounding subdued. "I told Becca and Nat to go to breakfast without us. I hope you don’t mind. I thought we could eat in the room again and talk a little."

Bucky turns toward Steve, rubbing at his eyes. "That’s okay. Um, thanks for taking care of it."

"Yeah, of course. I ordered all your favorites." Steve gives him a small smile and Bucky tries to smile back.

"I need to use the bathroom," says Bucky, and he's not entirely sure why he says it, until Steve nods and says, "Okay, Buck," and he realizes he wanted permission.

Sliding out of bed, he pads to the bathroom and closes the door to give himself time to get his shit together. He feels a lot better after he goes to the bathroom, washes his face, and takes a quick shower. When he comes back out, Steve is unpacking room service.

"There's coffee," says Steve.

"Thanks," mumbles Bucky, going to pour himself a cup. This is so weird. It feels like the aftermath of a couples argument, not a halted scene.

Steve hands him a plate with waffles, fruit, and bacon and they sit down together at the small table.

"I'm sorry," Bucky blurts out, at the same time Steve says, "Are you okay?"

Steve ducks his head, huffing slightly. "You don’t have to be sorry, Bucky."

"Yeah, but...I think I do," says Bucky, picking at his waffle. "You told me no, that you couldn’t give me something, and I pushed until you had to safeword."

"That’s what safewords are for," says Steve evenly. "As long as you respect them when they’re given, there’s no harm."

Bucky can’t help but to believe Steve is being too forgiving. It doesn’t matter that Steve himself has screwed up in the past. That was different. This feels...bigger. Still. Bucky doesn’t want to push. Pushing is what got them here. "Okay," he agrees. "But I am still sorry it got to that point."

Steve nods slowly. "Okay, you’re forgiven. Do you need me to explain why it was a hard line for me?"

Bucky shakes his head. "No, I think get it. I wasn’t in a good place. I was still hung up on what Hammer did. It would have...been bad, to reinforce that."

Steve breathes out, visibly relieved. "Yeah, Buck. And I do care about you. I...want you to be happy, I already told you. I know this is an arrangement but that doesn’t mean we can’t...care. Just like how you cared about if I got hurt while hiking, right?"

Oh. Yeah, that’s true. Bucky can still remember the heart pounding terror as Steve dropped, the way he smacked against that branch as he caught himself. He does care about Steve. He likes him. He’s...

Well, he’s the only other person in Bucky’s life aside from Becca who has ever been there for him. And he did tell Becca once that Bucky and Steve are friends. Maybe that’s what this is. Friendship. People make friends at work all the time. This isn’t any different.

The hard knot in his chest seems to ease as he breathes through clarity and understanding. Bucky's been twisted up over what this all means since Becca confronted him, but...this makes sense. She doesn't know how his relationship with Steve works. She obviously still can't come to terms with the fact that it is an arrangement and they're both happy with that. She keeps digging for more.

Bucky nods eagerly, so desperately relieved they're on the same page. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, I... I get it. I was more messed up last night than I thought."

"Hey," says Steve, and though he's been giving Bucky space since last night, he reaches across the table to put his hand over Bucky's and squeeze it. "I could tell. It's okay. You're allowed to have complicated feelings."

"Can we, um... Am I allowed to ask for something?"

"Bucky, we already said: vacation is vacation," Steve says patiently, stirring his spoon around in his granola and yogurt. "No rules. If you want to have a scene, then we can establish that beforehand, but I think it's worth taking it easy."

"I don't want to ask for anything like that," says Bucky. "It just feels like I'm not doing my job if I ask to spend today together just...taking it easy."

"Well, that's what I want, too," says Steve firmly. "You can ask for it and you can have it. Do you want to stay in the room? Or lounge on the beach?"

Bucky shrugs. "I don't mind. Seems a waste to not go outside."

"Yeah, I agree. I've been meaning to spend some more quality time at our cabana. We could lounge down there for awhile. What do you think?" asks Steve, taking a bite.

"Sounds perfect," admits Bucky, relief swamping him. He doesn't have to feel weird wanting to spend time with Steve outside of scenes. After all, the contract never talks about sex, anyway. It says things about companionship and accompanying Steve at events or on trips. That's what this is and Bucky can feel good about liking this part of the arrangement too. "Do you want me to wear anything in particular?"

Steve takes another bite of his yogurt and considers Bucky, tapping the spoon against his bottom lip as he chews. "Hmm, do you want me to tell you what to wear?"

Bucky hesitates only a second before he nods. "Yes, I...I like that, even if we're not in a scene, or whatever."

"Okay. Then wear the blue and silver trunks, the ones that are a little smaller." He smiles at Bucky and Bucky's heart thumps against his ribcage.

"Yeah, I can do that." It feels good to do that, to follow Steve's orders in something small. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Bucky. You can always ask me for things like that. I want to be there for—I want to help you."

Bucky licks his lips and nods, taking a steadying breath before he finally tucks into his breakfast, eating the waffle with enthusiasm.

After they eat, Bucky changes into the requested trunks, and since Steve didn't specify a shirt, he doesn't bother with one. Just slides his feet into flip flops and grabs a towel, openly staring at Steve as he pulls a tank top over his head and smooths it down his toned chest.

As they head down, Becca texts Bucky to let him know she's going out on a hike with Natasha, so when they get to the cabana, they're alone.

"So them, huh," Bucky says, putting his phone on the table and flopping down onto one of the lounge chairs. "Natasha and Becca."

"Yeah," says Steve, lying down next to him. "Do you want to talk about them?"

"Not really," sighs Bucky. Grabbing the sunscreen, he squeezes some out and starts applying it to his face. "I know it's not my business, especially after Becca got all weird about us, I just... Natasha is..."

"Natasha is straightforward," says Steve. "She won't lead Becca on. I can promise that."

"Yeah," says Bucky. He sits up to start applying sunscreen to the rest of his body, but Steve turns towards him, holding his hand out. "What?"

"Let me do that," says Steve.

"Um," says Bucky. He hands him the tube. "Yeah. Okay."

Steve tips his head. "Why don't you lay down."

It's not really a question and Bucky lets the warmth of it settle over him. He nods and shifts around, spreading out on the lounge chair, belly down against the soft cushions, head pillowed on his arms. Steve gets up and Bucky hears him step over Bucky's body, the lounge chair shifting as his knees fit on either side of Bucky's hips, feels his weight as he settles down on Bucky's ass.

Steve is quiet as he starts to work, humming a little as his hands, slick with sunscreen, come down on Bucky's back. He's gentle but firm, and Bucky lets out a soft groan as he realizes not only is he in for Steve's hands all over him, but also a massage that could rival the girls at the salon. Steve huffs out a soft chuckle at one of Bucky's particularly loud moans, thumbs kneading a tense knot.

"I'm not so sure I should let anyone else do this to you if this is how you always react," he mutters, palms sweeping over Bucky's tired muscles.

"S'fine," slurs Bucky, sinking down happily. "S'long as you keep doing it."

"Uh huh," murmurs Steve, his voice a warm rumble washing over Bucky. "Such a greedy thing, huh. Can't get enough."

"Could never get enough of your hands," moans Bucky. "Feels so good."

Steve takes his time, going far beyond the task of just spreading sunscreen on Bucky's skin. His hands feel amazing, digging in just firmly enough to turn Bucky into a warm puddle on the lounge chair, loose and limp. He drifts a little, humming happily as Steve digs his knuckles under his shoulder blades.

"How come you don't do this for me," slurs Bucky. "Like...every week. I could get used to this."

"Hmmm," murmurs Steve, sounding fond and amused. "Guess I never thought about it. If you're a very good boy, I could be persuaded to reward you with this. But only if you're very, very good."

"I'm always good," sighs Bucky.

Steve just laughs, apparently choosing not to engage in their favorite faux argument, which Bucky always wins, thanks very much. This is nice, though, a return to normal. Bucky likes being with Steve. He enjoys Steve's attention and touch, his words and his kisses, the things they do, the way they are. They're good together and it doesn't have to be complicated and full of feelings that Bucky doesn't understand. Becca was wrong and this is right.

He falls asleep right there, drifting away to the sound of the ocean and the heat of the day, the reassuring touch of Steve's hands.

When he wakes again, Steve is laying next to him with his sunglasses on, reading something on his tablet. Bucky smiles to himself and stretches like a cat, big and obvious.

"Have a nice nap, sleepyhead?" mutters Steve, glancing up from the screen.

"Yes, thank you," he says smartly, grinning at Steve. "Can you come back here and rub me down again, though? I think you might have missed a spot."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Brat."

Bucky just hums contentedly and then says, "I'm thirsty. Will you order some mimosas, please?"

Steve lifts an eyebrow. "And why can't you order them yourself, your majesty?"

"'Cause I'm gonna go get in the water to cool down and then I'm going to come back, drink my drinks, and take another nap."

"Sounds like a nice plan," comments Steve, already raising his hand to alert a staff member.

Grinning, Bucky rolls off the lounge chair, strolling off to the beach. He casts a glance back and finds Steve's watching him, specifically, his ass. Bucky wades into the surf, sighing in relief at the cool water. He doesn't stay long, diving in and floating until he's refreshed.

As he wanders back up to the cabana, grabbing his towel, he sees the requested mimosas on the table between the lounge chairs. Steve is sipping his own drink, still wearing his sunglasses, looking every inch like a hot model. Bucky rubs himself dry, aware that Steve has raised his eyes from his tablet, watching him.

"You're a doll," he says cheerfully, plopping back down on the lounge chair and plucking up a drink. He sips at it delicately. "I hope you're not working."

"Nope," says Steve. "Just reading."

"Mm." Bucky drains his mimosa and picks up a second.

When he's finished, he does exactly what he told Steve he'd do; he rolls over and goes back to sleep. The rest of the day passes peacefully. They order lunch, drink more, take a swim together, and just relax. Natasha and Becca return for a little while, before heading out again to have dinner together, and eventually Steve and Bucky decide to just order food to the cabana.

"This was a really nice day," Bucky sighs, when they finish eating. The sun is beginning to set, the horizon blazing pink and orange, a brisk breeze rolling in.

"Yeah," agrees Steve. "I'm glad we could... I'm happy we spent the day together like this."

"This whole vacation has been amazing," says Bucky.

"Well, we still have a few days," says Steve. "I hope you enjoy them, too."

"I will," says Bucky confidently. "I'm here in one of the most beautiful places on earth with all the people I care about in the world."

Steve pauses from taking a drink, studying Bucky. Bucky smiles at him and Steve's mouth ticks up in response. "Good. What's our plan for tomorrow?"

"Well, we booked a helicopter ride over the island tomorrow and we're going to go to lunch at this little place that we found online when we were planning. And then, um, tomorrow night I planned something for just you and me." Bucky's stomach tightens a little as he admits it. He hopes it's okay, that Steve will like it.

The way he smiles seems to indicate Bucky did good. "Oh yeah? We're gonna ditch the girls?"

"Yeah, well... Becca said before that she might like a night to herself, although I guess now it might be with Natasha," he says, shrugging. "Anyway, you don't get seasick do you?"

"No, are you taking me to sea?" Steve asks. His foot hooks with Bucky's under the small table between them.

"Sort of...not far? You said it didn't matter if it was expensive, and I figured... well, we'd be around other people most of the week. It might be nice to be mostly alone all night. So I asked JARVIS for some help with arrangements. He helped me make reservations to go out on this yacht. There's a chef and a server and the captain, but you're alone otherwise. They serve dinner and then we have the boat to ourselves to eat out on the deck in the middle of the ocean and...then there's a big cabin and we, um, have it for the whole night. It doesn't go back to shore until the morning. They serve us breakfast and everything."

The more Bucky talks, the more unsure he feels. It's kind of elaborate. He hopes Steve won't be mad because it was expensive and maybe Bucky should have asked first.

But Steve reaches out and takes his hand. "That sounds really great, Buck. Thanks for being so thoughtful. It will be very nice to have you all to myself and not share a wall with your sister."

"Yeah," he breathes out, relieved.

They take it easy the rest of the night, going up to the room after dinner and taking a bath together. Feeling bold, Bucky climbs on top of Steve when they go to bed, and Steve...lets him, leaning back on his elbows as Bucky straddles his hips. His gaze is assessing, body language relaxed.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" he asks.

"I need...to suck your dick," says Bucky, nodding firmly. "And I need you to...um..." He hesitates, but Steve's expression doesn't change. He is expectant, open. "I need you to put your hands up to the headboard. You're not allowed to touch me. While I do this. I'm gonna make you come."

"Okay," says Steve. He shifts back, reaches up to the headboard, biceps bulging. Bucky licks his lips, scooting back to settle between Steve's thighs. "Anything else?"

"Just...take it," says Bucky. "Take what I give you. No trying to take over and fuck my face. Okay?"

"Yeah," says Steve, eyes darkening. "Yeah, okay."

Bucky's heart hammers in his chest, fast and exhilarated. He's doing this. He wants to do this for Steve, especially after last night. He knows Steve said everything is fine now, that he respected Steve's safeword and that's what matters, but he still wants to do something. He wants to show Steve he cares, that he's sorry. He wants to take care of Steve, for once.

And maybe he does that all the time, giving Steve control, giving Steve whatever he wants, but this feels different, special. Bucky wants that.

He takes his time, kissing Steve's sternum, across his chest, his muscled stomach, the flat plane beneath his belly button with the hair trailing down, growing in tawny and soft. Steve's breath catches as Bucky kisses the root of his cock, tongue flicking out to taste the clean, warm skin. He hums, looking slowly up at Steve who is in turn staring at him, wide-eyed and...open.

Bucky smiles, feeling warm and pleased with himself. He takes Steve in his hand, curling his fingers around his quickly stiffening length, lifting it up so Bucky can kiss below it too, lips brushing the delicate skin over his balls, opening up to lick and suck and keeping Steve's cock out of the way.

He wants to make this last and so that's exactly what he does.

Bucky's never done this without strict guidance, has never just had the freedom to follow what feels good, and even though part of him is anxious about performing, he works Steve over with confidence.

Whenever he looks up and finds Steve's gaze fixed on him like he's the only person in the world, Bucky feels so powerful. He's in charge of Steve's pleasure right now. He gets to give this to him, Steve is allowing him to take liberties with him, give orders, and he knows it's just another game, but he likes the responsibility.

With Steve’s cock in his mouth while he grips tight around the base, Bucky drifts.

He reaches the same place in his head as when Steve uses him, except he's bringing himself there, while Steve squirms and gasps and arches under him, never once letting go of the headboard.

"Baby," he groans. "Bucky, god, you feel...so good, your mouth..."

Bucky hums, closing his eyes, doubling down. He takes Steve as deep as he can, swallowing around his thick cock, Steve going rigid with pleasure.

"Fuck!" he chokes. "I'm going to come, Buck, wish I could...touch you."

Bucky's free hand shoots up, keeping up the pressure on Steve's cock but beckoning for him. When Steve lets go of the headboard, Bucky takes his hand and tangles their fingers together, holding on tight. He sucks and bobs his head and lets his mouth water more and more until, finally, he sinks down onto Steve's cock, swallowing and humming throatily; Steve's hand squeezes his as he cries out, coming hard.

"Bucky, sweetheart—" he breaks off, panting.

Bucky sputters but keeps swallowing, taking every drop of Steve's come, until Steve makes a soft sound, high and vulnerable, and Bucky eases off. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, feeling drunk on the sensation of doing that, giving that to Steve, deciding everything about it. He doesn't want it all the time, but—he finds that he likes this, too.

Bucky can't help but think again that maybe it's just Steve. Maybe liking what they do together is just about liking Steve.

Steve's other hand drops from the headboard and he reaches for Bucky. "Here, let me... I want to hold you," he mumbles, pulling at him.

Bucky goes willingly, happily letting himself be wrapped up in Steve's arms, Steve's lips pressed to his sweaty hair. Bucky doesn't even think he wants to get off tonight. He just...wants to be here, with Steve. He wants everything to be okay between them.

"That was amazing, Buck," Steve murmurs, his voice a low, warm rumble. "Thank you."

"Hope it was okay," Bucky mumbles. It's not as difficult to talk as when he really goes under, but he's still a little floaty. "Wanted...to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

"More than okay," says Steve. "I did. I do."

"I won't give you orders like that again, I just..." Bucky sighs, nuzzling under Steve's chin.

"It's okay," Steve says softly, stroking Bucky's hair. "I let you. It was allowed. Vacation."

Steve doesn't seem to want to let go of him that night. Cuddles him close and kisses him sleepily, until they both drift to sleep.

The next day is incredible. The four of them meet for breakfast, then head off for the helicopter ride. It's one of the most beautiful things Bucky has ever seen and he and Becca both take a ton of pictures. They get dropped off for lunch, then decide to walk to a different beach for the afternoon.

They all part ways before dinner, though, and Bucky starts to get a little anxious again about the yacht. He's not usually responsible for any of their plans and he wants it to go well. What if it's not perfect? What if Steve thinks it's a waste of money?

As the sun goes down, they head out together. The yacht is extremely fancy. They're greeted personally by the entire staff, then left alone following the tour and safety briefing to explore for the hour they have before dinner. Bucky thinks it must be nerves, still, that's throwing him off balance, but as they stand on the deck at the stern, looking out over the ocean, Bucky's stomach twists unpleasantly.

"You okay?" Steve asks.

"Yeah," says Bucky, forcing a smile. "Just excited for dinner. I picked the menu."

"I'm excited to see what you chose," murmurs Steve, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "You're so good for me, Buck."

"I think you'll like it. It's all seafood. I figured it was thematically appropriate," he says, taking a deep, steadying breath. It's fine, maybe he just ate something off for lunch. As soon as he has something to drink and nibbles on some of the bread, he'll feel better.

Soon, the server comes to find them as the boat slows a little, turning so their table will have the best views. The sun is setting across the waves and it's absolutely breathtaking. Steve looks happy and it's almost enough to let him ignore the roll of his stomach as the boat gently shifts beneath them.

Steve pulls out his chair for him and then sits himself while their server opens a bottle of champagne and pours for them. The first course is poke, perfectly cut pieces of beautiful tuna and mahi mahi along with vegetables and rice. Steve hums appreciatively and digs in and Bucky takes a fortifying sip of his champagne and does the same.

The rice is okay, bland, easy to get down, but the fish and veggies make his stomach flip. There is no way Bucky isn't going to eat the food he ordered, especially not when he knows exactly how much all of this cost—he made JARVIS tell him.

At least Steve is enjoying it. "My compliments to the chef. This is incredible."

"Thank you, sir. I will pass that on. She'll come out once the meal is fully served. She likes to check on her guests at the end of the meal."

"Excellent. I look forward to it."

Bucky smiles, keeping his mouth shut.

Somehow, he gets through it.

He keeps hoping it'll get easier, that his stomach will settle down and let him enjoy this, but every bite goes down harder than the last. The main course is grilled swordfish, which Bucky tastes but hits his belly like a rock, then another round of drinks, and dessert, and thankfully he doesn't have to keep up conversation because the chef comes out and spends fifteen minutes chatting with Steve while Bucky's soul leaves his body.

His heart is pounding, his head feels tight, his stomach is flipping constantly and he keeps swallowing saliva. He's gonna puke. He's gonna throw up a meal that cost more than his weekly allowance, after every bit of it was just patiently explained to them by a master chef.

By some small mercy, the chef excuses herself, the server clears their table, and they're left totally alone again.

"Buck?" asks Steve.

"Mm?" Bucky looks up desperately.

"I asked if you want to... Hey, you don't look so good." Steve leans in, frowning. "Are you feeling okay?"

Bucky nods tensely, which is a bad idea. His gorge rises insistently, and Bucky stumbles to his feet. If he can just get to the railing, he can throw up over the side and—

"Whoa," says Steve, suddenly beside him, taking his arm. "Bucky, talk to me, you look like you're about to pass out."

If Bucky opens his mouth, he's going to...

Too late.

He stumbles, balance failing him. Steve, of course, catches him, turning Bucky towards him, and Bucky throws up all over Steve.

Everything seems to freeze for a moment, Bucky's head spinning and his stomach still rolling. Steve stares in shock at him and Bucky's eyes burn with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm—" Nausea sweeps through him again and this time he manages to spin and lurch out of Steve's grasp toward the railing, clutching tightly as he throws up into the gentle waves below.

Within moments, though, Steve is at his side again, hand firm on his back, rubbing it. "That's it, Buck, let it out. It's okay. You're going to be fine."

Bucky sobs, his head throbbing and his stomach aching terribly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Hey, you're alright. You're seasick, sweetheart. It happens," says Steve, sounding very kind and understanding for a man covered in someone else's puke. "Hey, can you make it into the cabin to the bathroom? It's safer there and I can leave you to let the captain know we need to turn around."

"Nooo," sniffles Bucky. "I don't want to ruin it. I'll—I can—I'll feel better in—" The boat rocks deeply and Bucky's stomach drops to his shoes. He leans over the side of the boat and pukes more than he thought possible.

"Okay, it's okay. Can you at least sit down for me? I don't want you falling over the side while I step away, Buck. I'll get you a bucket," he says, firm hands guiding Bucky into a sitting position, back against the railing.

Bucky blinks miserably as Steve lets go of him and turns toward the table, returning moments later with the emptied ice bucket and a damp, cool napkin. "Here, take these. I'll be right back."

Steve is covered in puke, all down his expensive shirt and pants, splattered on his tie and jacket which have already been discarded now. Bucky has never been more horrified in his life.

Clutching the bucket in clammy fingers, Bucky closes his eyes and breathes steadily through his nose.

The worst part, aside from vomiting on Steve, is that even though he's pretty sure he's thrown up every single possible thing in his stomach, Bucky still feels like he wants to evict his entire digestive system from his body. His head is spinning like he's wasted and he truly feels like his body is on a rollercoaster that no one else is on.

Steve is back almost immediately, kneeling down to cup Bucky's jaw in his hand. "Hey, Buck. Okay, we're gonna head back. It's gonna take about an hour, so I'm gonna pick you up and bring you to the cabin, where we're going to get you cleaned up and as comfortable as possible, okay? I got some medication from the captain."

Bucky nods weakly, putting his arm around Steve's shoulders when prompted and clinging to him. He keeps his eyes closed, only opening them when he hears Steve push open the cabin door and Steve stops dead and says, "Oh," in a small voice.

"I'm so sorry I ruined it," Bucky says weakly, through a fresh wave of tears. The big king sized bed in the cabin is sprinkled with rose petals. Cheesy, sure, but this whole thing was meant to be over the top, and...

God.

"It's okay," Steve says, carrying Bucky into the adjacent bathroom and setting him down on the edge of the big jacuzzi tub. "Let's get these clothes off and fill up this tub."

Bucky nods miserably. Steve gets them both stripped out of their clothes, turning on the taps and checking the water before letting it fill. He grabs a glass and fills it up with tap water, handing it to Bucky while he pops two pills out of a blister pack.

Bucky sips carefully, wary of anything hitting his stomach, but he doesn't immediately find himself hunched over again, so he lets out a breath. He accepts the pills from Steve and swallows them down, drinking slowly still and trying to breathe steadily through his nose.

"Good, you're doing great. We'll get cleaned up and you can lay down until we get back to shore." Steve leans in and brushes a kiss to his hair, just above his ear.

Bucky sighs and nods, allowing himself to be carefully lowered into the warm tub. Steve crawls in too and is gentle and slow about cleaning him up, making sure to not move him more than necessary. His voice is soft, too, speaking to Bucky in a low, soothing tone. "Once, when I first started working at Stark Industries, before Tony knew who I was and I was just another designer on a whole team of them, I spilled red wine all over Pepper's white suit at a company retreat."

Bucky blinks. Is Steve...telling him an embarrassing story about himself?

"I was trying to explain an idea I had to this other guy, my supervisor at the time, and why the design they approved was total shit. I knew it was and I knew it would cost the company, but no one wanted to be the one to pull it from production."

"What'd you do?" mumbles Bucky, sighing as Steve's fingers carefully scrub his scalp.

"Well, I wanted to follow the rules. It was a new job and I didn't want to risk losing it, but I also knew there was no way I could stick it out if I was meant to take my orders from a bunch of idiots," huffs Steve, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I got into a little bit of a heated argument with the guy and I guess Pepper came over to see what the problem was but I didn't see her. Gestured a little too broadly and knocked her glass right out of her hands and all over her."

"I assume she didn't fire you on the spot," says Bucky.

Steve huffs a startled laugh. "No. No, she...didn't. She was and continues to be a much more compassionate person than me."

"I was just joking," says Bucky. What isn't he going to ruin about this night? Shut up, Barnes, god.

"I know," soothes Steve. "I don't really deserve to ever live that down."

"It's water under the bridge."

"Yeah. Which is why it's okay to joke about it."

"What did she do?"

"Barely flinched," says Steve. "Took her jacket off, handed it to her assistant, and offered to schedule lunch with her, Tony, and me, to discuss my ideas. Thanks to her willingness to listen, I ended up as design lead within the year."

"Did Tony find out?" asks Bucky.

"No," says Steve, chuckling. "Pepper never told him. There's a handful of people still around that remember it. When I got my first promotion, I bought her a new white suit."

Bucky groans. "Of course you did. Thanks for telling me that. I still feel terrible because vomit is way worse than red wine, but I feel about...five percent better."

Steve just rinses the shampoo out of Bucky's hair, helping him out of the tub to dry him off. Bucky still feels queasy, but with Steve helping him into comfortable clothes and guiding him to bed, his nausea remains manageable.

"I wanted this to be perfect," he laments when they're cuddled on the bed together.

"Perfect is overrated," says Steve, brushing a kiss to Bucky's hairline. "This is memorable, isn't it? In a couple of years, we'll laugh about it."

Bucky lets out a breath. In a couple of years. "You...think we'll still be friends then?" Oh god, why did he say that? Things were just starting to be good again, normal between them.

"I hope so, Buck," murmurs Steve, not missing a beat. "No matter what, I want us to be friends."

Bucky's stomach twists, but this time it's not nausea. "Yeah," he breathes. "Me too."

Steve is quiet then, just holding him close, and Bucky is saved from his own spinning brain when someone knocks at the door. "Sirs? We're approaching the dock. We'll be ready for you to disembark shortly."

"Thank you," calls Steve, and then to Bucky he adds, "Do you think you can stand again?"

Bucky huffs. "Yes. I am not getting carried off this boat. I need at least some dignity left."

Steve kisses his cheek. "Whatever you say, pal."

Once they're off the boat and in the back of a limo again, he leans against Steve's shoulder, relieved to be free of the unpredictable churn of nausea. His stomach still feels sour and he is exhausted, but he'll take that any time over the sensation of the world moving. At the hotel, they make their way up to the suit and go to sleep as soon as they hit the bed.

So much for an over the top evening of sex and fun.

Bucky wakes up sometime in the night, his head finally clear and his stomach settled. He has no idea what woke up him. He doesn't even have to pee. He shifts in bed, and suddenly realizes that Steve isn't in bed with him.

Blinking across the dimly lit room to the patio doors, Bucky sees that they’re open to the cool ocean breeze. Just beyond the threshold, he can make out Steve standing at the railing, staring out at the sea. The moon is high in the sky and his golden hair is silver in its light.

He looks like the hero of some tragic tale, skin pale and glowing in the moonlight. Bucky's breath catches and he finds himself propelled from bed, padding quietly over the plush carpet until he makes it outside. "Steve?" he whispers, walking up to him. "Are you okay?"

Steve doesn't even startle. He turns to Bucky and smiles. "Yeah, Buck. I'm okay. You should go back to bed."

"Can't," he admits. "I woke up ‘cause you were gone."

"Can't have that, then," says Steve gently, putting his arm around Bucky and kissing his temple. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," says Bucky, leaning into Steve's solid chest as he guides them back inside. "A lot."

Steve pulls Bucky down into bed with him again, curling around him comfortably. Bucky settles with his head on Steve's chest, letting out a deep breath. "This was real thoughtful, Buck," Steve murmurs. "I'm sorry it didn't go how you planned."

"Just wanted to do the kind of thing you do," sighs Bucky. "You let me plan it all and I really wanted that."

"You don't have to, baby," says Steve, kissing him again.

"Yeah, but I wanted to," complains Bucky.

"Then you can try again soon, okay? Anytime you want, you let me know. Maybe we could even try to bring a little vacation back with us when we go. Like, once a month, you can plan the whole weekend and we throw out the rules. Would you like that?" asks Steve, voice a low rumble that lulls Bucky, relaxes him.

Bucky yawns, his jaw cracking. "Yeah," he sighs. "That would be good. I could do special things for you, too."

"Well, for the record, I think you do something special for me all the time, the way you let me take control. You're a very good boy."

"Told you I was always good," he mutters, and when Steve gives him a quick little pinch, he squeals and laughs, squirming in Steve's hold. "Hey! No punishments!"

Steve snorts. "My apologies, you're right of course. How can I make it up to you?"

Bucky squirms some more until he can kiss Steve solidly on the lips. "Tomorrow, you tell Becca nothing about how I puked. It's our secret. You are sworn to secrecy forever."

Steve chuckles. "Hmmm, that's a big ask, lying to your sister. I'm only just now in her good graces."

"Hey, you're the one who said you needed to make it up to me."

"I was thinking more along the lines of fucking your cute ass."

"In that scenario, you get to come too."

"Who said anything about letting you come?" teases Steve, grinning wickedly.

"Hey!" whines Bucky. "That's not fair, either. It's vacation. I should get to come if you're making it up to me."

"You like it when I deny you," says Steve, raising both his eyebrows. "You chase any bit of stimulation you can get, good or bad."

Bucky grunts. "Accurate. But I maintain that in this particular scenario, it's about me and therefore I should get to come."

"Fine," says Steve. "So I can tell Becca, then?"

"What? No!" yells Bucky. "My demands are as follows: one, Becca never finds out. Two, I get a make up fuck. Three, I get to come. That would soothe my humiliation."

"You're very exacting," murmurs Steve. "But I suppose I can meet your demands, when you went to all this trouble."

"Do I need to get this in writing?" asks Bucky cheekily.

Steve snorts. "I think I can manage. Though...if you want to amend the contract to include the suggestion for your weekends, we can do that."

God, the contract. Of course. An actual addendum. "Sure," he says quietly. "If you're into it. What would, um, be on the table? If we're throwing out the rules?"

Steve shrugs. "We can discuss it more fully when we get back, but... You get to be as demanding as you want, basically. I won't restrict you. Throwing out the rules doesn't mean we don't abide by our limits and safewords, though. Other than that... as much or as little sex as you want. Dates, dinner... I'm amenable to your choices. Pick your scenes, beg freely..." Steve shrugs.

Bucky reaches out to comb his hand through Steve’s hair, enjoying the way Steve leans into the touch, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks with a sigh. He looks so soft and young in a way Bucky isn’t used to seeing. He leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead. "That’ll be fun. Thank you for suggesting it."

Steve opens his eyes as Bucky pulls back and gives him such a bright smile Bucky’s stomach twists. "You’re welcome, Buck."

"Steve?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you—" Bucky breaks off, suddenly unsure of where he was taking the question. He licks his lips and course corrects, "make me come? Please?"

Steve’s gaze darkens and he nods. "Yeah, okay, baby."

Steve does. Kissing him deeply and rolling Bucky beneath him, Steve patiently works him open until Bucky is begging again, and then he fucks him hard and quick, whispering the sweetest filth in his ear, the kind of language that always goes straight to Bucky’s cock. He comes with a blinding orgasm, clutching gratefully at Steve before sleep pulls them both down.

The last few days of vacation go by in a lazy blur of sand and sun.

It’s absolutely incredible, but by the time they’re on the flight back to New York, Bucky is ready for a vacation from vacation.

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

They get back from Hawaii late on Friday night, giving them the weekend off to recover from the flight and the jetlag before Steve heads back to work on Monday.

Steve is adamant with Bucky that it's technically still vacation, though, and that means taking it easy.

When he gets up at 3 AM on Saturday night because his body doesn't know what the fuck time it is and whether he should be sleeping or not, Steve finds Bucky is also up and digging around in the kitchen for treats.

They sit up together for a while, watching Netflix, and wake up on the couch later to sunlight streaming in. It's a very lazy weekend, and what sex they do engage in is fairly vanilla by their usual standards. Steve drafts up an outline for their new amendment, giving Bucky say over one weekend a month, so they they can sit with the lawyer early in the week and finalize it. Because of how Bucky’s surprise ended on vacation, they decide he’ll get his do-over this upcoming weekend.

On Monday, Bucky sleeps in while Steve heads to work, making for a very slow, very boring day. After ten blissful days of vacation, where he spent most of his time with Bucky, sitting alone in his office is less than pleasurable.

Still, he's got plenty to catch up on, and it only takes Steve a couple of hours to find a productive rhythm again.

Getting home that night to find Bucky's ordered pizza and built a blanket den on the couch is even better, though.

Steve kicks his shoes off by the door and tugs his tie loose, sitting down next to Bucky with a sigh. "Decided not to go see Becca today?"

Bucky shakes his head, engrossed in what looks like a very important battle scene for some program on Netflix. "No, sorry, hang on. This episode is almost over."

Steve huffs in amusement and reaches for the pizza box on the coffee table, flipping it open and grabbing a piece. It's Bucky's favorite again, which Steve has become very fond of himself. He takes a bite and squints at the screen where a kid with short dark hair and a goatee is running through a theater. Another very large man in a trench coat looks very upset.

"God, Luther, you piece of shit," mutters Bucky for at least the fourth time as the episode comes to a close. Finally he takes a breath and looks over at Steve. "Oh, uh. Hey. Sorry, I've been watching that all day! Umbrella Academy. It's good."

"Yeah? You seemed pretty riled up there for someone who liked something."

"Yeah, well, Luther was a piece of shit, I don't know what to tell you," he says with a shrug, but then he grins and adds, "But to answer your earlier question, I did not see Becca today because she had a bunch of stuff to catch up on after being gone for so long."

"Ah, yeah, makes sense. You kept yourself busy, I see."

"Well, it's my day off," says Bucky defensively. "And also I gotta start studying for the SATs soon. Gotta get all my fun in while I can."

"You can be as lazy as you want on your day off," Steve says easily. He doesn't want Bucky to feel defensive about what he does with it. "I'm teasing you, Buck. I think I'm actually going to go to the gym. I need to get back into it."

"Okay," says Bucky. "I'll see if I can find it within myself to not eat the rest of this pizza and leave you some more for after."

"Magnanimous," says Steve, getting back to his feet. "I don't mind either way."

"Noted," says Bucky, grabbing another slice and curling back up on the couch

Working out after a long break from regular exercise goes a long way to giving Steve a healthy rush of endorphins, gaining him peace of mind and a satisfying soreness. He finishes off with his usual stretches, then heads back downstairs, shirtless and sweating, with the intention of showering.

As he walks into the penthouse, he passes between the couch and the TV, and Bucky looks up, a spoon dangling from his mouth as he digs into a tub of ice cream.

"Hi—ooooohhh," he wheezes, eyes round. The spoon drops from his fingers and clatters to the floor, Bucky startling upright from his mostly horizontal position, though he keeps his eyes locked on Steve.

He knows exactly what's happening here, so he stops, grabs the towel dangling from his shoulder, and mops up his forehead.

Bucky's eyes zero onto Steve's bicep, jaw hanging open. "Hey," he says, sounding a little squeaky. "Do me?"

"What?" asks Steve, raising an eyebrow.

"Do me," says Bucky, getting up off the couch. "Don't—clean up, just... Hhhhold me down," he whispers, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

Slowly, Steve lowers his arm, the towel dangling from his fingertips as he looks over Bucky. He's wearing a low slung pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt messy with grease and his hair is sticking up from sleeping on a wet head. Steve drops the towel and reaches out, snagging the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I want it, wanna, um," he breaks off, his eyes fluttering as he imagines whatever is running through his dirty little mind. "Wanna struggle and feel how strong you are, please."

Steve narrows his eyes, letting something hot and tight coil in his gut. "We're not on vacation anymore, Buck."

Bucky licks his lips, teeth dragging over his bottom lip like he's trying to hide a smirk. "I know."

Steve tsks, jerking Bucky that much closer. "That was the last time you say ‘please’ for a long while if you want any of what you're asking for."

"Yeah," agrees Bucky, breathless with obvious arousal. "Yes, sir."

Steve flicks his gaze down Bucky's body again and then without warning he ducks and lifts him, throwing Bucky over his shoulder and landing a smack to Bucky's ass as he squawks in surprise. He's going to enjoy this.

"Hey!" cries Bucky, squirming against him.

"Hey, yourself," says Steve calmly, tightening his grip around Bucky's hips and using his other hand to restrain Bucky's flailing legs. He heads to the bedroom, easily keeping hold of Bucky as he wriggles. When he reaches the foot of the bed, he bends his knees and leans forward, dumping Bucky onto the mattress.

"Excuse me!" cries Bucky, red-faced. He rolls himself to the left, right off the bed and onto his hands and knees on the carpet.

Steve catches him around the waist as he tries to duck past him, Bucky wheezing out what sounds like a breathless laugh before struggling again in Steve's arms. "You're not excused," Steve says. Spinning Bucky around, he forces him down face first over the end of the bed and then twists his arms back, pinning them to his sides. Bucky groans, arching his ass back.

"I knew you'd act out after such an indulgent vacation," Steve murmurs, grinding his hips against Bucky's ass. "You're lucky it's your day off and I'm still feeling that last gasp of holiday relaxation. You ever try this again during the week and you'll really earn a punishment."

"Yes, sir," breathes Bucky. "Won't try it, I promise. Turn me around?"

Steve lets out a put upon sigh, overdramatic. Flipping Bucky over, he takes him by the wrists and pins him flat, leaning his body over him fully.

Bucky moans, legs falling open around Steve's hips, arching up against him. "God, I want you in me, Steve."

"Such a wanton little thing, so needy," scolds Steve. "'Do me, Steve.' 'Want you in me, Steve.' 'Hold me down, Steve.' Don't forget, baby, I'm not here to keep your greedy little ass satisfied. You're here for me, you're my toy, not the other way around."

Bucky gasps, head tipped back, neck exposed and pulse hammering in his delicate throat. Steve watches as a blush fills his face. "I know. I'm—I'm yours, your toy, your s-slut."

"Yes, you are," growls Steve, pushing himself up to manhandle Bucky's clothes from his body, scooting him back up the bed as Bucky squirms and alternates between helping and fighting, delighted groans spilling from his bitten red lips every time Steve overpowers him.

Steve grabs the lube. Using one hand to hold Bucky's wrists over his head, he pushes two fingers into Bucky's hot little hole with the other. "Oh god, Steve," he gasps, "D-don't need much, make it—"

"Make it hurt?" mutters Steve.

Bucky nods breathlessly. "Yeah, wanna—wanna feel you, feel you all day tomorrow, too, wanna know I'm yours, c'mon, give it to me."

"So demanding," scolds Steve. He doesn't deny him, though he doesn't give him what he wants exactly when he wants it, either. He keeps his preparation rough, plunging two fingers into Bucky as he writhes and moans. When he's satisfied he won't actually hurt Bucky, Steve guides his cock in, nudging at Bucky's rim.

Bucky grunts, biting his lip. Stopping himself from pleading, maybe. He does squeeze at Steve's waist with his knees, arching his back up off the mattress.

In response, Steve rolls his hips, sinking into Bucky with incremental pushes.

"Ohhh yeah," moans Bucky, head thrown back, throat bared. "C'mon, c'mon..."

"Impatient, too," chides Steve, snapping his hips and shoving Bucky up the mattress with a low groan. "Anything else I can do for you, your majesty?"

"Choke me out with your biceps," gasps Bucky. "Just smother me in your muscles. Something tells me you're not going to do that, though, but thank you for asking."

Laughter bubbles up in Steve, so much so that he has to drop his head, hiding his face for a moment as it cascades through him. "You little punk," he giggles. "We can talk about more breathplay another time."

He lifts his head, looking sternly down at Bucky.

Bucky looks fucking radiant, beatific in his pleasure. "God, Steve, I love—" Steve's heart skips. "—your cock."

"Yeah," says Steve, voice hoarse. He clears his throat, giving Bucky several harsh thrusts to distract him. Bucky's mouth falls open as he moans. "There you go, baby, you are so pretty on the end of my cock. I'll give you that. Meant to be fucked, weren't you?"

"By you," pants Bucky, wrists twisting in Steve's grip as he locks his ankles around Steve's back. "Just your cock, Steve, it's so good, you give it to me so good."

Jesus. He is so ruined on this man. "You gonna come on my cock, Buck? Gonna show me how much you love it?"

"Yeah, yes," he moans. "Harder, need it—"

Steve crashes their mouths together, kissing Bucky sharply, fucking into him until he can feel the muscles in his back and thighs twinging with fatigue, until his own orgasm is moments from crashing over him. "God, perfect little hole, baby, hot and slick, that's all you gotta be if that's what you want, gonna fill you up, gonna watch my come drip out of your wet hole when I'm all done, push it right back in with my fingers—"

Bucky shouts, body strung tight like a bow as he arches into Steve, ass clamping down so tight onto Steve's cock all he can do is shove deep and stay as Bucky milks him with the force of his orgasm.

When Steve comes back to himself, he actually feels a little shaky.

He does everything slowly; releases Bucky's wrists, pulls out gently, sits back on the mattress next to Bucky's hip, and runs a trembling hand through his hair. Sprawled out next to Steve on his back, Bucky has his eyes closed, chest heaving.

"You alive?" Steve asks, nudging Bucky in the hip.

"Mm," hums Bucky. "Hard to say. You might have just fucked my soul right outta my body."

"You had one of those?" Steve asks lightly.

Bucky snorts. "Rude."

"Was it everything you wanted?"

Bucky lets out a deep, satisfied sigh. "Yeah. Gave me some ideas for this weekend when I get to pick what we do."

Steve arches an eyebrow. "Sometimes I feel a bit like I created a monster."

Bucky opens his eyes and rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. With his messy bedhead and sweet expression, he looks very appealing, if not suspiciously coy. "How do you feel about kidnapping?"

Steve raises both of his eyebrows. "As a general concept, or as a game?"

"As a game," snorts Bucky.

"I'd have to think about that," admits Steve. "That's a fairly elaborate scene."

Bucky's eyebrows go up and he launches himself up from the bed. "Wait, I was joking! Is that a thing?!"

"Baby," laughs Steve. "Everything is a thing!"

"I need to do more research. I've allowed my preoccupation with deciding on what schools I want to apply for distract me from what's truly important."

Steve chuckles. "Figuring out all the ways you want to get fucked?"

"Exactly," sighs Bucky, grinning. He yawns then and says, "You should take me to the bathroom and give me a bath now."

"You are such a brat." Steve reaches out and tickles Bucky, rolling on top of him again as Bucky squeals and squirms, giggling helplessly as Steve wiggles his fingers against his ribs and under his arms. "I ought to take you to the playroom and spank your ass, not clean it."

"Noooo, it's my day off. Mercy!" howls Bucky between peels of laughter.

Steve finally gives in, tweaking Bucky's nipples as he climbs off of him. Bucky sprawls on the bed panting and staring after him.

"Well, come on," says Steve. "I'm not carrying you in there this time."

He turns away and smiles to himself as he hears Bucky grumbling but getting up to follow him into the bathroom. He draws a nice hot bath with bubbles and relaxing lavender. When Bucky joins him, he pulls him close to kiss his lips. "I know you don't always like to discuss scenes a lot ahead of time, but thank you for being specific about what you wanted today."

"Oh," breathes Bucky, leaning into him as the tub fills. "Yeah, I...I figured it was good to tell you, after, um, the last time I asked you to be rough. I know you didn't want to then because of how I was feeling after that guy was an asshole to me."

Steve hums his agreement. "Mmhmm, but I don't mind indulging your masochistic streak under the right circumstances. You can be very...cute when you're in pain." He pinches Bucky's ass in demonstration, laughing when he squeals again. "See?"

"Sadist," huffs Bucky.

"That's how it works," agrees Steve. "Come here. I'll wash your hair."

They finish their bath together, then get changed into pajamas, and Bucky reappears at Steve's door looking sleepy and soft and unbearably sweet, so much so that Steve's heart squeezes a little just looking at him.

"I can sleep in here, right?" he asks, already climbing onto the bed.

"Yeah, baby," Steve says softly. "Of course you can."

The rest of the week passes fairly uneventfully. By the time Bucky’s weekend rolls around, Bucky hasn't actually mentioned to Steve if he's thought about what he wants, or suggested ideas to him in the lead up, but Steve is sure he's continued thinking about it.

Sure enough, on Friday night when Steve gets home from work, they eat dinner on the couch and Bucky says, "So there are two things I want this weekend."

"Okay," says Steve, nodding as he forks up some stir-fry. "Shoot. Unless it's kidnapping, then you should have warned me at the start of the week."

"It's not kidnapping," scoffs Bucky. "I'm still figuring that out. No, I...want to go on a date tomorrow night. Out, to...like, a fancy dinner, and then maybe a club? I want you to pick where, though."

"That's doable," says Steve. "What's the second thing?"

"You know those, uh..." Bucky clears his throat. "You know those hooks over the bed in the playroom?"

"Sure do, pal."

"I want to use those. I want to ride your cock, and...use those."

"Okay. Do you want me to make it easy or difficult for you to come? How mean or nice would you like it?" asks Steve mildly. He's perfectly happy making the decision if it comes down to it, but since this is Bucky's first time really planning a scene, Steve wants to let him ponder out some of the details.

Bucky's cheeks go very pink. "I think, um, I think I'd like you to be nice overall but...um. In that patronizing way you do sometimes, where you treat me like I'm not...not very smart, like I'm kind of a cute pet. Not uh, the puppy play or anything, but—"

"I know what you mean. You want me to humiliate you a little, huh?"

"Yeah," breathes Bucky. "Make me work to come. I—I'd like to, but I'm okay with you deciding when."

"Okay, any toys?"

"Cock rings and nipple clamps are okay if you want. I don't think I want a gag. I...I want to be able to beg you. And I like...when you slap me a little, my face or my cock or my ass, y'know? But no whips or paddles or anything."

"Rope or cuffs for your wrists?"

"Cuffs, so—so I can last longer. They're softer."

Steve nods along and says, "Alright. I can fill in the rest of the blanks unless you think of anything else."

Bucky shakes his head. "No, I think...that's good."

"Okay, baby. I'll make reservations for us. Do you want me to tell you what to wear?"

"Yes," he says and takes a large bite of noodles.

"The dark blue pants with the black dress shirt, no tie, and you can wear your leather jacket with it. I want you to be ready by 6:00 PM."

Bucky nods. "Okay," he says quietly. "I'll be ready for you." He's smiling a little, looking down at his plate.

Steve doesn't know quite what the smile means, but it seems good. Bucky looks happy and settled. "If you want anything else, you just let me know."

"You can still...add things," says Bucky after a moment. "I like when you surprise me."

"We'll find a way to strike a balance," Steve agrees. "But you're in charge of...say, 95% of the planning. I won't do anything that contradicts what you've chosen, or make any changes that diverge too severely."

"Right," says Bucky. "Okay. Then....I think that's it."

After dinner, Bucky disappears into the kitchen to clean up, and Steve texts with America to narrow down a restaurant that will take his reservation on just 24 hours notice, which is, of course, not a problem at all. There's a new restaurant that's been getting rave reviews that seems perfect, especially considering the club that's adjacent to it. Bucky will get his fancy meal and dancing and then Steve will take him home and give him the workout he's requested.

On Saturday, Steve goes early to the gym, returning to find that Bucky has made crepes for breakfast, with fruit and powdered sugar and maple syrup. They eat together, and then Steve heads out for a business meeting with Sam and some overseas clients that only had time for an onsite visit on a Saturday. Before he leaves, he gives Bucky a kiss and reminds him to be ready for 6:00 PM sharp.

By the time Steve's gets back home after a long afternoon, he is very ready for date night.

"Buck?" he calls, exiting the elevator and shrugging out of his jacket. "Reservation's at seven. I just need five, I want to wear something else."

Bucky appears in the entryway and Steve's mouth goes a little dry.

He's dressed as requested, looking delectable in navy and black as he slips his leather jacket on. Steve didn't specify footwear, so Bucky has added his own flair to the outfit with a pair of lace up black leather boots that add even more length to his already long legs. He's styled his hair impeccably, perfectly voluminous waves. He grins at Steve, leaning up against the wall. "So you're the one that's not ready?"

"The time applies to you, not me," chides Steve. "I've been working. You've been...?"

"Watching educational specials," Bucky says smartly.

"Lounging like a boy emperor," corrects Steve. "Wait here. Be good."

"Obviously," says Bucky, looking pleased and relaxed.

Impulsively, Steve steps forward and catches his mouth in a quick kiss before he turns away and strides quickly to his room. It doesn't take him long to change into something appropriate for a night out, charcoal slacks and deep maroon shirt, well fitted and just the right level of casual, adding a jacket to match the pants. He checks his reflection in the mirror and brushes his teeth, spraying a light spritz of cologne before he grabs his wallet and tucks it into his pocket, heading for the door.

Bucky's gaze flicks down Steve's body and back up as he approaches and Steve smiles. "Like what you see, Buck?"

"Always."

"Good." Steve feels warm as he lets his hand settle at the small of Bucky's back and guides him down to the lobby where Clint and the car are waiting.

"Where are we going?" asks Bucky as they pull away and into traffic.

"New spot, America made the reservations. There's a place for us to go dancing after," he says, leaning back and watching Bucky's excitement.

"Yeah?" asks Bucky, eyes bright and eager.

"Mmm, yup, gonna show you off, let everyone see what a beautiful boy I've got," murmurs Steve. "They're all gonna wonder how I got so lucky."

Bucky huffs, cheeks going rosy. "I think you mean they'll all wonder how I got so lucky, to have you spoil me all the time."

"Well, that's an easy answer. It's because you're such a good boy, baby."

"You don't gotta butter me up," says Bucky. "I'm already going home with you tonight, y'know."

"Hmm," hums Steve. "I'll butter you up exactly how much I want. Knowing you'll be in my bed tonight doesn't mean I'm going to get lazy."

It's the right response. Bucky turns shy immediately, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. He looks very pleased as he squirms in his seat. His close-fitting pants leave nothing to the imagination, anyway; Steve knows just how much a bit of praise gets to him, turns him soft and sweet in Steve's firm hands.

"You're too far away," says Steve, spreading his legs. "Come here."

Bucky obeys immediately, crossing between their opposing seats and settling his slim body between Steve's thighs. He sits practically side-saddle, tucking both his legs over Steve's left leg and wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulder. Steve obliges him in a hug, holding him in his arms and kissing his temple. Whatever Bucky put in his hair smells good. "This feels really nice," Bucky whispers. "You really do spoil me."

Steve snorts fondly. "It's almost like I enjoy it, or something. If we weren't going to a restaurant with a very strict dress code, my hand would already be in your very tight pants."

"Too bad," murmurs Bucky. "I'm not wearing underwear."

Steve tightens his grip around Bucky, hissing slightly.

"You didn't say I had to," Bucky continues coyly. "But I don't want come on my outfit."

"Brat," chides Steve. He snakes his hand up between them, gripping Bucky by the chin, palm pressed firm against the underside of Bucky's throat. Then he pushes slowly, separating them until there's scant inches between the tips of their noses, so he can look into Bucky's lust-blown pupils. "Look at you."

Bucky's throat bobs, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. They're always a bit obscene when they're red and parted like this, begging for Steve to pushes something between them. "What do you see?"

Steve smirks, narrowing his eyes. "A young man who knows exactly what he looks like."

Bucky drops his gaze a moment in faux-modesty, but then he blinks his eyes open again and smiles coyly at Steve. "Doesn't mean I don't like hearing you say it."

"Is that right? You want to know how handsome I think you are, Buck? A real looker, pretty as can be." He kisses along Bucky's sharp jaw, silky smooth from a fresh shave. "And you know what?"

"What?" asks Bucky, breathless.

"You're gonna look even prettier when you're riding my cock tonight, begging me to let you come," he says, just as the car pulls to a stop.

"Steve," gasps Bucky, squirming in his grip.

"Come on, baby. Time to look pretty on my arm like the sweet little accessory you are." The door opens and Steve helps Bucky move off of his lap and step out of the car, following right behind. Bucky looks a little dazed already, his tight pants somewhat obscene as he turns and wiggles a bit, clearly trying to reposition everything while being as discreet as possible.

Steve holds his arm out to him and Bucky loops his own through it. "I'd say I can't believe you got me all worked up just to make me walk through a restaurant, but that would sound pretty naïve, even for me," mutters Bucky.

"Yes," agrees Steve. "It would. Come on." He guides Bucky up to the door where a staff member opens the door for them.

The host is waiting to greet them as they enter. "Welcome, Captain Rogers. We were so pleased your assistant called us."

Steve gives the host a big smile. "Thank you for taking such a last minute reservation."

"It's our pleasure," says the host smoothly. "This way, please."

They get seated in a well-positioned booth, away from the main seating, partially hidden in the back corner. America always knows how to ensure privacy. Steve selects a wine, the bottle brought out to them and poured by the sommelier, and when Bucky immediately closes his menu and pushes it to Steve, indicating he wants Steve to decide, then Steve orders the five course tasting menu for two.

It's exactly the right choice; the chef herself comes out as the first course is served, introducing herself and explaining the theme for the evening. Bucky's eyes are wide, listening raptly as she speaks, and the quality is exactly as superior as Steve would expect. Bucky makes happy noises with every indulgent mouthful and cleans every plate. Steve limits them both to the one bottle of wine, though he does order dessert coffee with a little kick, and by the end of the meal, Bucky looks relaxed and satisfied, eyelids drooping as he slumps in his chair and licks the last bit of freshly whipped cream off his spoon.

"You're not ready for bed yet, are you?" Steve teases.

"No," Bucky says quickly. "The caffeine will kick in in a second. It was just so good."

"I always mean to take you out to more restaurants like this," Steve murmurs. "I'm glad you asked for it. I know how much you enjoy the food."

"Not just that," says Bucky. His knees bump Steve's under the table and he smiles.

"Mmm," hums Steve. "You're welcome. Go to the bathroom, splash a bit of cold water on your face. I'll get the bill."

Bucky obeys, getting up and stretching a bit, tossing Steve a wink when he catches him looking. Steve lifts an eyebrow and Bucky laughs and heads off toward the restroom. Steve handles the bill and tips generously, standing when he sees Bucky returning. "Ready?"

Bucky nods, looking considerably more awake. "Yeah, dancing now?"

"Mmhmm," murmurs Steve. He nods to the waiter and the host as they exit, walking toward the line that's beginning to wrap around the building, people waiting to enter the club next door.

They bypass it, walking toward the velvet ropes and the bouncers at the entrance. "Name?"

"Rogers. Steven Grant."

There's a brief pause as the list is consulted and Steve sees the exact moment whatever note was probably left next to his name is read. The man's eyebrows shoot up and he looks back up at Steve. "Of course, sir, please allow Mandy to take you to your table." He speaks quickly into his radio, and a beautiful woman with bright red hair and a stunning black dress steps out of the door, beckoning to them.

"Right this way, Captain."

Steve glances at Bucky and sees his wide eyes. They've never gone out like this together in New York. He can just hear Bucky now: Rich people are wild.

"Good?" he mutters just for Bucky to hear as they follow Mandy into the dark, thumping club.

"Yeah, just...I knew you got whatever you wanted. I've just...never seen it like this." His gaze darts around, taking everything in as they head up the stairs, bypassing the teeming public space and going straight to the VIP area.

"Would you care for bottle service, sir?" asks Mandy as she pulls aside a heavy velvet curtain and reveals a private seating area next to the balcony's edge, overlooking the dancefloor.

"Champagne, please," says Steve, sitting down and watching as Bucky goes straight to the edge to peer out at the club.

"Of course," says Mandy. "It'll just be a moment." She leaves and returns promptly with the champagne and then it's just the two of them.

Steve pops the cork and pours two glasses, offering one to Bucky. He makes a pleased noise and leaves the balcony to drape himself onto the couch beside Steve, plucking up the glass and draining it fully. "Oops," he murmurs, holding it back out to Steve with an innocent smile. "That's really easy to drink."

"Is it, now," Steve says dryly, raising an eyebrow but obliging Bucky with a second glass. "Or are you just...easy?"

"You know the answer to that," says Bucky, taking a much more demur sip. "Do we get to dance?"

Steve purses his lips. "I don't—"

"That's a lie," complains Bucky. "It's a club. What's the point if you won't dance with me? Do you want me to just go down there and dance with someone else?"

Steve purses his lips. Bucky's big blue eyes track over Steve's face, taking in his expression, but he just scoots closer expectantly. Steve hums, setting down his own glass to put an arm around Bucky's shoulders, sliding his other hand up to cup Bucky's throat. It's a show of possession, sure, but Steve just likes to feel Bucky's pulse kick against his palm like a nervous jackrabbit.

"I won't dance," Steve says firmly. "I will accompany you onto the dancefloor. You don't really need me to do any of the work, anyway, do you?"

"Guess not," breathes Bucky, eyes going dark with promise. "Just need a big solid body to dance up on. Will you put your hands on me at least?"

"I could be persuaded," murmurs Steve. He cocks his head a little. "Finish your glass. You keep your eyes on me. Deal?"

"Yeah." Bucky licks his lips and then drains his glass, meeting Steve's eyes boldly. He is definitely happy to indulge in having a weekend to act as he pleases.

Steve empties his own glass and sets it down, standing as he holds out his hand to Bucky. Bucky takes it and Steve wordlessly brings him out to the floor, pulling Bucky along as he pushes his way into the thick of it. There's something with a pulsing bass, low and quick, thumping through the crowd. Steve turns and Bucky's there already, stepping into his space, hips rocking to the rhythm, eager hands on Steve's chest.

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, the alcohol burning bright in his veins, the tangle of people around them fading into the background. Bucky is a good dancer, sensual and subtle, a knowing curve on his lips; his eyelashes brush against his cheeks as he shuts his eyes and moves to the melody. Steve finds his hands going to Bucky's hips automatically, pulling him in that much closer. Bucky laughs delightedly, but Steve barely hears it, lost to the noise and music.

The song switches...maybe, the crowd shifts and grows...probably; none of it is particularly memorable, though.

Steve has eyes only for Bucky, sinking into a heady contentment as Bucky clings to him, moves against him, happy and glistening with sweat. His dark hair is wet, curling more than normal. He wraps one arm around Steve's waist, hand sneaking up the back of Steve's shirt while the other does the same from the front, palm warm against Steve's abs for a moment before it slips down, fist curling around Steve's belt. He uses it to anchor himself as he slowly swivels down, sinking nearly to his knees and then slowly pulling himself up, his whole body dragging against Steve's.

Steve groans, hand coming up to tangle in Bucky's damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss. Bucky goes easily, grinning against Steve’s lips before he pulls back and turns, swaying back and forth with his ass pressed to Steve's heavy cock, head tipped back against Steve's shoulder.

Bucky is very warm and very wriggly, giggling breathlessly as he swivels his hips, grinding back onto Steve's dick. Steve encircles him with his arms, sliding his hand up under Bucky's now-wrinkled shirt to press over his heart, while he settles the other low over Bucky's belly. Close to—but not quite—cupping his cock, because while he feels proprietary doesn't want to actually fuck Bucky on a dancefloor surrounded by hundreds of writhing bodies.

Bucky's free hand curls up to tangle in Steve's hair, mussing it, and he turns his face to mouth at Steve's jaw. He's going to give himself beard-burn.

He doesn't seem to care though, carrying on through another couple of songs. Eventually he turns again in the embrace of Steve's arms, swinging himself back into Steve's front, their hips slotting together. Bucky stifles a moan, thoroughly debauched, head tossed back, throat bared.

Steve can't wait to see him strung up to the ceiling, balanced helplessly on his cock. Pressing his lips to Bucky's ear, he rumbles, "Time to go?"

Bucky lets out a deep sigh but he nods. Stepping back, he takes Steve's hand and looks at him with those big doe eyes. Leading him out, Steve puts his arm around his shoulders, holding him close as they step out of the hot club into the chill.

The car is already coming up to the curb, so Steve bundles Bucky into the back before crawling in behind him.

"Oh my god," laughs Bucky, flopping back onto the seat. "That was amazing. I could've dropped to my knees right there and sucked your dick, Steve."

"I know," murmurs Steve, smiling indulgently. "You're quite the little exhibitionist, babydoll."

"Can't help it," sighs Bucky, dragging his fingers through his damp hair. There's a glassy sheen to his eyes; he's definitely a bit drunk. "Knowing I'm there with the hottest guy in the whole city."

"Well," says Steve. "You get your dessert, soon."

"Mmm," hums Bucky, sitting forward to wrap his hand around Steve's cock, bulging in his slacks. "Want it so bad."

Steve lets out a groan, indulging Bucky's touch, rocking into it as Bucky climbs right on top of his lap again, legs slotting on either side of Steve's hips. Bucky's mouth dips down to trail over Steve's Adam's apple, and Steve lets him, allows him to rock his hips against Steve as they roll through the streets of Manhattan. "I know," he rumbles, tipping his head back against the seat, letting his eyes drift to half mast. "I know, baby. Everyone could see how bad you want me, want my cock."

Bucky nods, teeth tugging on Steve's earlobe. "Yeah, need it, Steve. Please, you could—right here, we don't have to wait."

Steve rocks up against Bucky's hot, desperate cock, trapped in his tight pants. "Mmm, you want me to fuck you in here, baby? Such a greedy little slut that you can't wait ten minutes for me to give you what you already asked for?"

"Yeah," gasps Bucky, shameless. "I—" he licks his lips, color high in his face, sweat beading on his upper lip. "I put a plug in, before we left. So you could—you could slip it out and fuck me right now."

Steve's mind whites out for a moment. Bucky's had a plug in all night? All through dinner and dancing, moving the way he was at the club—

"Jesus Christ," swears Steve.

His hand goes up to tangle in Bucky's hair again, gripping tightly, tipping his head back to expose his throat and Bucky whines, hips jerking against Steve again. "Please, please, I don't need to come yet. Just—just want you in me, just—"

Steve slaps his face, startling a moan out of him. "What a brat," he says, but his tone is warm, mindful of Bucky's other request, for the tone to be fond if belittling. "What a silly, dumb slut. You just can't help yourself, can you, sweetheart?"

Bucky shakes his head, grinding more desperately against Steve, fingers curled against his shoulders. "Need it, please!"

Steve slaps him again, watching as Bucky's mouth falls open, making a loud, wanton sound.

"Always thinking with that slutty little cock, that greedy hole. Not a bit of sense in that cute, dumb head, huh?" mutters Steve.

"Don't need sense when I've got you," Bucky moans. "Please! Please, Steve, I want it. I want you inside me. Don't even care if you don't move at all, just—"

"Okay," says Steve. "Okay, baby. It's your weekend, isn't it? If you want to beg for the privilege of sitting on my dick in the back of a car because you can't wait until we get home, then that's what you'll get."

Bucky immediately rises up on his knees, frantically opening his pants and squirming as he shoves them down his thighs. There's no way there's enough give for Steve to be able to get his cock inside him without taking them all the way off, though. He's about to chide Bucky when he comes to the same conclusion, putting one hand on Steve's shoulder and rising up so high his back presses against the roof of the car; from there, he wriggles out of his pants like an eel, kicking them off and bouncing back down onto Steve's lap.

"See?" says Steve, reaching behind Bucky to hunt out the base of the plug. He pushes on it when he finds it snug between Bucky's cheeks, then gives it a hard tap with two fingers. Bucky squeaks, arching his hips out and back, face flushed. "A mindless hedonist. I hope you don't mind going between the car and the elevator half-naked, because I'm not waiting for you to get dressed."

"Don't care," grunts Bucky, grabbing the front of Steve's pants with both hands, popping the button and tugging down the zipper. "It's private, anyway. Who's gonna see me? Clint?"

Steve laughs. "Well. You've only got about fifteen minutes. By all means. Find a seat."

Bucky bites his lower lip, brow furrowed a little. He looks very appealing like this, damp hair curling messy against his forehead, sweaty and flushed, his shirt gaping open a little at the chest where he must have opened it in the heat of the club. Steve just leans back, fingertips pressing into the meat of Bucky's ass, letting Bucky pull out his cock and stroke him a couple of times, spreading precome over the head.

"Love this," groans Bucky. "Love your bare cock, love that you can just...push in, now. Will you take it out? The plug? Please." Bucky's breathless with want, practically trembling, so Steve trails his fingers back over the base of the plug, tweaking and twisting a little, making Bucky whine. Then he draws it out slowly, Bucky shuddering as it pops past his rim.

The second it's out, Bucky grabs the base of Steve's cock, lines himself up, and sinks down onto him with a thick groan.

Steve's breath catches, his cock enveloped in tight, wet heat, dragging just so on Bucky's rim. His hands clutch tightly at Bucky's hips and he gives into the overwhelming desire to slap up into him with several short, hard thrusts before he pulls him tight and close, makes him sit as they both settle. They're panting, hot and humid as Bucky pulls Steve's hair, pressing their mouths together.

Steve kisses back, indulging in the slick plunge of Bucky's tongue as his hole ripples around Steve's cock. "God," groans Steve, pulling back to catch his breath. "Nothing feels better than your ass, baby."

"S-sweet talker," moans Bucky, shivering in Steve's hold. His hips try to twitch, like he wants to ride Steve's cock, wants to fuck himself up and down, but Steve holds him firmly in place.

"Ah ah ah," scolds Steve, though his voice cracks, goes rough and he has to clear it. "You—" he licks his lips, "You asked to sit, baby, not go for a ride."

Bucky whines, wet mouth sucking gently at Steve's throat, licking over his Adam's apple as it bobs. "But you could," he whispers. "You could come inside me, fill me up, push the plug back in."

"I could do a lot of things," says Steve. "Doesn't mean I will."

Bucky whines, trembling gently. "Yeah," he sighs, voice dreamy. "Sometimes I think about it when you're at work, all the things you could do to me."

Steve's cock pulses and, god, he's got a lot of self-control but he's not sure he can hold out from fucking Bucky right now either. "More fantasies? Have you been holding out on me, baby?"

"Just haven't had a chance to tell you. Was gonna, I swear."

Steve gives in, but just barely, starts a slow, gentle rhythm, arching his back and rolling his hips, barely a thrust at all. "Tell me," he demands.

"Unh," groans Bucky. He squeezes tightly around Steve's cock, but when he jerks up like he wants to fuck himself back down, Steve holds him firmly in place until he throws his head back, panting, and goes limp. "Okay! Okay, I will, I'll tell you. I'll be good."

"What's your filthy little brain come up with, hmm? You have so much time all day to dream things up," croons Steve. "C'mon, it'll give you something to think about for the next ten minutes."

Bucky whines softly, nodding, his eyes closed. "I...I...sometimes I get bored," he admits breathlessly. "I look things up online."

"Do you watch porn when I'm not home, puppy?" Steve asks, cupping Bucky's jaw and thumbing gently at his cheek.

"N-no!" cries Bucky, his face scarlet. "Not...not like...I look at stuff." He's slurring, just a little, head lolling. "Toys. You know. You have so many, I get...curious. Didn't know you could buy machines that can fuck someone, y'know? No like the...the one you showed me, the..." He trails off, breath hitching.

"The sybian," Steve supplies patiently.

"Yeah," breathes Bucky. "Not like that. It...you know. Fucks into you. So, naturally, I thought of what it would be like for you to strap me down onto the spanking bench, and then...have it fuck me while you use my mouth."

"Ah," says Steve. "Very imaginative. That's called a spitroast. Usually it's another person, but a fucking machine would work, too. Anything else?"

"Yeah." Bucky nods, opening his eyes just enough to look at Steve through his lashes. "The cross. I keep thinking about it. How I'd like you to use it, finally, for real. Strap me to it and whip my cock until I cried, until I couldn't stop screaming...."

"Well, well," says Steve, raising his eyebrows. "That's more pain than you usually fantasize about."

Bucky rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "I guess.... You ever go to fetish clubs?"

"I've been," Steve says evenly. "Why?"

"Ever since you invited Natasha over...and I guess after tonight, at the club.... I like when people watch me with you," he sighs dreamily. "You could tie me up like when you make me clean the house, so everyone knows I'm yours. Chain my wrists and ankles, so I can walk but I'd have to, um..." His lungs hitch. "Kinda shuffle to keep up, wearing my collar, on the end of a leash. Everyone could see I was at your mercy, you could keep me so helpless." Bucky's eyes are huge, glassy.

"Oh, I see," says Steve. "Plugged up? Wearing a cock cage on your pathetic little dick, hmm? All locked up and chaste for me."

"Yes," gasps Bucky, nodding. "Clamp my nipples, and...and muzzle me."

"What a pretty picture," Steve murmurs, visualizing all of it, how good Bucky would look, how jealous every unattached dom would be, that he has such a cute little sub. "You'd be the center of attention," he says. "Everyone staring at you."

"Yeah," moans Bucky. "But I'd be yours."

"Mmmm, you've given me very good ideas to consider." And he means it...except for the club. He can't do that, he knows, can't bring Bucky to a place like that when their agreement is so temporary, so breakable. And it's selfish and awful, but Steve won't risk anyone else tempting Bucky away, wanting what's his when Steve has no idea if he can keep it—keep him.

Bucky squirms, hard little cock messy and dripping between his legs, pressed against Steve's stomach, ruining his shirt. Steve doesn't care. He's the most beautiful sight Steve's ever seen. Bucky's mouth falls open as they rumble over a pothole that jostles them, and he seems to forget all about his fantasies, squeezing around Steve again. "God, I love your dick."

That weird twisty feeling in Steve's stomach returns, but he pushes it aside. He loves that Bucky loves his dick, enjoys how much Bucky enjoys getting fucked. It's undoubtedly part of his appeal. And he set up this arrangement, he established that it was based solely on control and sex.

Tugging gently on Bucky's hair, he says, "What a good boy, so grateful for what I give you."

Bucky's head bobs up and down, eyes listing closed. "Yeah," he breathes. "Love it so much, Steve. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Mmmyeah, and the night's not even over yet, is it, baby? You're gonna keep showing me how thankful you are. Gonna tie you up and let you fuck yourself on my cock, just like you need."

"Please," begs Bucky, nodding eagerly. "Please, please, wanna work for it, I'll be so good for you!"

"I know, baby," murmurs Steve indulgently.

He rocks him gently in his lap, barely moving, for the rest of the ride to the penthouse. When they park in the garage, right by the elevator, Steve gives Bucky's side a pinch, and Bucky rises up off Steve with a low, bereft groan, letting Steve slip free. Grabbing Bucky's pants off the floor, Steve smiles and pushes them at his chest. "Off you go, sweet thing," he smiles. "Get that cute little ass upstairs. I expect you naked and kneeling on the playroom bed by the time I get there."

"Fuck," breathes Bucky, eyes wide. He scrambles out of the car, stumbling the few feet to the elevator, his shirt and jacket mostly covering his rear as he holds his crumpled slacks over his lap and disappears into the elevator.

Steve exits more leisurely and rounds to the driver's side door where Clint lowers the window. "All done for the night, boss?"

"Yeah, get home, Clint," says Steve, handing him two hundred dollar bills. "Thanks for the short notice, tonight."

"My pleasure, boss." There's a brief pause, Clint's easy smile sharpening a little. "Glad to see the kid stuck around this long."

"Mm," hums Steve. "Take a couple days off, will you? Time and a half. You earned it."

"Thank you," Clint calls, putting the car into reverse and lazily saluting out the open window. "I know you'll enjoy the rest of your night!"

Steve takes the elevator up, hanging his jacket in the entryway and strolling to the playroom. Bucky is kneeling as requested, trembling in place, as Steve pauses by the dresser to strip slowly out of his clothes. With Bucky's eyes on him, he wanders naked through the room, gathering the leather cuffs, two lengths of chain, a set of nipple clamps, and a cock ring restrictive enough to help Bucky last when he's already so hard.

"Give me your wrists," Steve commands, approaching the bed. Bucky sticks them out immediately, hands curled into loose fists. Steve buckles the cuffs on, then clips the chain between them. He climbs up onto the bed, standing up on the mattress and towering over Bucky as he clips the other chain to the loop in the ceiling. "Arms up," Steve orders.

Bucky squirms, but does as he's told, lifting his arms about his head. Steve pulls the chain tighter through the loop, relieving the slack until Bucky's arm's are stretched enough to make him rise just a little on his knees. Bucky's breaths have gone shallow again, his eager dick red and twitching.

"There," says Steve as he fastens the chain at the right spot with a carabiner. "Not going anywhere now, are you?"

Bucky pulls against the chain, testing it, putting his full weight against it, and it doesn't budge. He's panting when he stops. "Steve," he whines. "Steve, please."

"Soon, Buck. I have to finish getting you ready, don't I?" he murmurs, lowering himself down on this knees and picking up the cock ring. It's thick, elastic silicone and he slicks it up and works it down over Bucky's cock until it's pinched tight at the base and Bucky whimpers. "Shhhh," hushes Steve, looping the other half of it around his balls. "You know you need it to be a good boy."

Bucky nods, eyes big and wet. "I—I know. I'll be good, Steve. I promise. Just want you in me again."

"Awww, what a needy little slut," croons Steve, voice thick with mock sympathy even as he pinches Bucky's nipples to points before attaching the clamps. "It's such a rough life for a pampered pet, isn't it?"

"Steve, please, please!" he gasps, tears finally spilling over.

Steve slaps his cock. "Such a silly crybaby."

Bucky jerks, sobbing, the chain rattling above him. He already looks a mess, his cheeks and nose flushed red and wet with tears. "Please give it to me," he pleads, his lower lip trembling. God, he's so good at the crocodile tears, that fixed, miserable expression. How is Steve supposed to believe it when his cock only gets harder the rougher he treats it?

"You said you'd work for it," Steve says, leaning back on his elbows and stretching his legs out between Bucky's knees. Grasping Bucky, he moves him to kneel over his hips. "I should have known a lazy little princess like you would want me to hand-feed you everything, hmm? Such a sweet, stupid little thing. You don't even know what you want, do you?" He smiles, reaching out to flick the head of Bucky's cock.

"Ah!" cries Bucky, flinching back, the muscles in his thighs taut and trembling. "Steve, Steve, please! I'll make you feel so good, please give it back to me!"

"This?" asks Steve, wrapping a hand around his own cock and stroking himself slowly. "This is what you want?"

Bucky nods, staring at Steve's cock, licking his lips.

"Say 'please can I have your cock, Steve'," Steve orders.

"Please, can I have your cock, Steve?" begs Bucky, his voice trembling.

Steve hums. "Okay. Show me how good that greedy little hole of yours is. Sit for me, puppy."

Bucky groans, nodding sharply, making the chains and his nipple clamps jingle softly. He rises up, body tense, and then lowers himself carefully down. His sloppy rim catches at Steve's cock, Bucky making a mournful noise as Steve slips free again without guidance. Frustrated tears slip down Bucky’s nose and patter onto Steve's chest. "Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "Please h-help me? I'm...I'm too...I can't do it on my own."

"I know," sighs Steve, as if it's such a hardship, taking care of Bucky. "I'm giving you a treat but still it's me who has to do work, isn't it?"

"I'm sorryyyyy," wails Bucky, more tears trickling down his cheeks. "Please, j-just a little help and then I can do it, I'll be so good for you."

"You'd better not disappoint me again," says Steve warningly, but he reaches for his own cock, holding it steady, and as Bucky lifts up, he guides it to his hole.

Bucky sobs with relief as he finally sinks back down onto Steve's cock, his hips rolling down to take him deep and solid, and Steve groans as the slick heat wraps around him again. "Thank you," cries Bucky. "Thank you, thank you."

Steve reaches up and tugs on the chain connecting his nipples. "I don't need your pretty words, Buck. Show me you mean it. Come on, let's see what a grateful slut you can be."

Bucky nods, already moving, lifting himself up to sink back down; he really is very graceful, the rhythm from the club finding its way back here, as Bucky screws himself down onto Steve's dick again and again. It's not fast but it's not slow either, a respectable rhythm as he flutters around Steve's cock.

"That's it, so beautiful like this, Buck, all strung up for me, such a pretty sight. Should get a mirror, huh, put it behind me so you can see yourself. Bet you'd like that, such a vain little thing, aren't you?"

"Can't help it," whispers Bucky, swiveling his hips fluidly as he grinds down onto Steve's cock. He's truly a picture, arms stretched above his head, fingers curled around the chain, his long, lean body moving so eagerly, taut with tension. Those pretty pink nipples swollen in the clamps, his cock bobbing with every rise and fall of his hips.

"I know," soothes Steve, wrapping his hand around Bucky's flushed erection and teasing gently at the fat head. "I know, baby, it's okay. You know you're cute, always use that sweet face to your advantage, don't you? Vapid little pets like you have to use the gifts they're given, isn't that right? I'm lucky I get to play with you."

Bucky groans thickly, nodding in agreement. His flush has crept down his throat, chest, and belly, sweat glistening on his skin as he works himself closer to a futile precipice he can't actually leap from. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you to help me."

"I am helping you," says Steve. "I've been helping you all night, Buck."

"I know," says Bucky, panting raggedly. "I know, I'm so...grateful. Th-thank you, but I need...I still want..."

Steve clucks his tongue, giving Bucky's cock a little squeeze to make him squeal. "So demanding. After all this, you want more? What could you possibly still need?"

"To come," says Bucky wildly.

"Have you worked for it?"

"Yes!" he wails.

"Hmm," says Steve, cocking his head. "I don't think so. I just got you all strung up the way I like you."

Bucky's tears come faster, his face falling with misery, but he still works himself on Steve's cock, still an insatiable hedonist to his core. "I'll keep going," he cries. "I'll make you come too. I promise, I'll be good for you, Steve, just n-need to come."

"Hmmm." Steve slides his grip up Bucky's cock, rubbing just over the slit, dragging through the mess of precome dripping from the tip. Bucky groans, his voice cracking as he gasps for air. "You won't be a lazy little pet when you get what you want?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I'll work so hard for you, Steve. I will. Want your come, w-want to feel it."

Steve shivers. His own orgasm isn't that far off, been building all night too, and he has a feeling the sweet feeling of Bucky coming on his cock will push him right over. "Yeah, okay, baby, since it is your special weekend, guess I'll help you one more time."

Bucky nods quickly. "Y-yeah, thank you."

"Hold still for me," he says firmly, watching as Bucky shivers but comes to a stop as Steve reaches down and carefully removes the restrictive loops. Bucky squeals and trembles, and when Steve has him completely free, he gives Bucky's cock a rough slap. "Go on, show me how much you appreciate me."

Bucky sobs, hips moving again, faster this time, fucking down hard on Steve's cock, taking him as deep as he can, hips rolling like his life depends on it. "So good, you feel so good," he babbles. "Just want this always, Steve, just—just you, just your cock and your hands and your voice. You're so good to me, so good."

"Yeah," agrees Steve roughly. "You gonna come now, Buck? You gonna make yourself come riding my cock?"

"Uh huh," groans Bucky, mouth open. "I am, I'm gonna—"

Steve gives the chain on his nipples a hard tug, releasing the clamps with a sudden snap. Bucky fucks down hard as he stiffens up and wails, long and broken, come splattering across Steve's chest.

Bucky’s hole clamps down around Steve's cock again and again, and Steve gives into the sensation, gripping Bucky's hips and grinding up as he comes, letting Bucky's aftershocks milk his cock. Then Steve holds him still, hands heavy on Bucky's hips until he's finished.

Above him, Bucky has sagged in his restraints, head lolling, panting out ragged breaths.

He has that hazy, distant look in his eye that tells Steve he's probably not going to have a lot to say until he comes down.

"Good boy," breathes Steve, sliding his hands up to squeeze gently at Bucky's waist. "Such a good boy, Buck. So beautiful like this. I'm going to help you down and get you cleaned up, okay?"

"Mmm," mumbles Bucky, eyelids dragging heavy. It's vaguely affirmative, so Steve wriggles out from under Bucky's thighs and climbs up to his feet, taking Bucky's wrists in hand as he unhooks them from the chain. Bucky grunts in discomfort when Steve lowers his arms, but Steve hushes him and pulls him down into his lap, rubbing and massaging the feeling back into his shoulders.

For a little while, Steve just holds him, soothes him, unbuckling the cuffs and working his fingers into Bucky's lean muscle. When Bucky stirs a bit more, Steve tucks him into bed and goes to the bathroom for some wipes, cleaning them both up. Bucky seems pretty comfortable where he is without a shower or a bath, and Steve kind of just wants to get in bed with him, so he diligently cleans away the worst of the stickiness and sweat and crawls under the covers.

"Hugs," mumbles Bucky, rolling towards him, eyes firmly closed. He reaches out with both hands, mouth snagged in a ridiculous pout.

"What kind of monster would I be if I denied such a charming request," Steve teases, pulling Bucky into his arms and hooking one leg over his hip to fence him in close. He kisses the back of Bucky's neck, snuffling at the soft hair there. Bucky's hair grows like mad, thick and fluffy. He seems to get it trimmed once a month at the spa, but Steve wonders idly how he'd look with it a bit longer. More to tug.

Bucky lets out a gusty sigh and wriggles a bit, getting comfortable. "Thank you."

"You liked it?"

"Mm. Yeah."

"It's what you wanted?"

"Yes," says Bucky firmly. "Perfect."

"Good. You were perfect, too."

"Gonna pass out now."

Steve chuckles and kisses his nape again. "Okay."

Later, when he thinks back on this weekend, Steve really wishes he’d taken the chance to just tell Bucky the truth.

He could have saved them both some heartache.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

Sunday is a perfectly normal aftercare day. They don't really leave the penthouse, ordering up all their food and spending most of it on the couch, nesting in blankets and watching Nailed It on Netflix. Bucky decides to bake a batch of chocolate cupcakes and pointedly does not attempt to decorate them.

Bucky is rested and happy and, thus, completely unprepared for what Monday brings him.

After Steve leaves for work, Bucky heads to NYU to grab brunch with Becca and a couple of her friends, and then spends a couple of hours wandering around the city. He's at a newsstand, buying a coke and a magazine, when he spots the byline out of the corner of his eye.

He accepts his change and tucks the rolled up magazine under his arm, reading the words "LIFESTYLE: THE CAPTAIN'S CATCH" in the top right corner of the newspaper on the rack, accompanied by a small black and white photo of Steve.

Bucky's stomach does a weird little flip. He almost opens his mouth to ask how much it is to buy a paper, but instead he whips out his phone and googles "news steve rogers".

The first thing he sees is the same headline: THE CAPTAIN'S CATCH: STEVE ROGERS FINDS LOVE AGAIN?

Stunned, Bucky starts to walk aimlessly, barely paying attention to where he's going as he reads.

Captain Steve Rogers is best known as the design genius who, combined with Tony Stark's tech wizardry, gave us (and Stark Industries' stockholders) the gift of fifteen award-winning innovations over the past seven years. His sleek eye for detail and 6th sense for combining function with aesthetic has kept Stark Industries at the head of a very competitive pack, but the Captain is also known as a force to be reckoned with across the New York social scene.

Once upon a time, this Brooklyn son from humble beginnings won our hearts and minds as he rose to prominence as one of the most eligible bachelors in town. Soon thereafter, he made headlines by wooing Margaret "Peggy" Carter, savvy businesswoman, English Lady, and unparalleled philanthropist. Their match seemed to be the stuff of fairytales, a power couple to end all power couples, but it came to an unexpected and infamous end just six months ago.

Those closest to Captain Rogers remarked that his divorce sent him from dynamic and magnetic to severe and uncompromising, cold in an unprecedented way. He dropped out of the headlines and out of our minds, lonely and forgotten, another workaholic casualty. That is until recently.

Over the past three months, he has been repeatedly spotted with the same young gentleman. The Post can now exclusively confirm that Captain Rogers has been in a serious relationship with James "Bucky" Barnes, a fellow Brooklynite, for at least three months. The young man has been described as charming, intelligent, and kind, a joy to meet. What's more, our sources state that he seems to bring out the softer side of our severe Captain.

Barnes was first spotted with Captain Rogers at the hospital benefit in the name of his mother, Sarah Rogers, and after an extended vacation in Maui, the couple were recently photographed out to dinner at Manhattan's hottest new restaurant, followed by dancing at a nearby club. All those who interact with the two lovebirds say that Captain Rogers can't keep his eyes off Barnes, and it's obvious he's wildly in love.

It doesn't seem as if this new romance is slowing things down at Stark Industries, either. Business insiders claim Stark is soon to release...

Wildly in love.

Bucky can't read the rest. His stomach lurches and he darts off the sidewalk and huddles in the doorway of a closed down bodega, clutching his phone like a lifeline.

For a long minute, he really thinks he might throw up. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to read, but it definitely wasn't a warm, affectionate puff piece that gushes lovingly about Steve's new relationship. Steve's hinted multiple times at how he ends up in the society pages, but it always seemed negative, so Bucky had kind of prepared himself for what he figured would eventually be some gossipy write-ups about Steve Rogers and his young trophy twink.

Not this. Not…wildly in love.

What is he supposed to do with that? Leaning against the brick, he swallows back panic and anxiety.

Becca was all over him in Maui about Steve and Steve's feelings and Steve's love, but... Bucky figured he just knew better than her. He’s the one actually with Steve, the one that sees him up close. Steve is warm and affectionate, but he also runs their relationship like a business, regularly amending their contract because they're not dating.

Everyone else sees love.

Does Steve love him? Could Steve be in love with Bucky and he’s just been so intent on drawing lines and boundaries that he’s been blind to what’s directly in front of him?

Refocusing on the present, Bucky looks down at his phone. The article rambles a little about the Stark and Hammer feud before it returns to Steve and Bucky's "love affair," going on about how despite their considerable age difference, they've found common ground. It ends off wishing them the best.

What the fuck.

Bucky feels cold and sick and weird and he hates it.

The worst part is, he doesn't know who to talk to about any of this. He knows what Becca's opinion is and he already snapped at her for getting involved before, and he can't exactly just...ask Steve. What is he supposed to say? 'Read any good gossip lately?'

It can't be true anyway. If he asks, he'll just look stupid and foolish and naive. He knows what Steve wanted when he offered Bucky a contract, and love wasn't it. It's still not it.

There's still a signed and notarized contract sitting in a file room at a law firm downtown. There's still a little over $6000 in his bank account right now, sitting there collecting interest, growing every single week because there's not a damn thing he actually needs to spend his own money on. There's thousands of dollars of clothes and accessories and stuff in "his" room in a top floor penthouse in the Upper East Side, all of which was given to him on the premise that Steve wants him to look the best so he can make Steve look the best.

Which is what all this is about, right? Steve likes control. And Steve is even controlling his own reputation. He took a hit with his divorce and a romantic little tryst splashed all over the society pages must be an improvement.

Of course.

Bucky takes a deep breath, reality settling again, everything refocusing. Steve would know they've been photographed. Maybe he even paid this author off to write such a glowing piece. Bucky is a prop, an accessory to the life Steve wants people to buy into—particularly as it also includes mention of Stark Industries. If people buy Steve's image, they buy Stark products.

And that's fine. That's what Bucky wants and it's what Bucky can understand. He's happy with how things are, happy with Steve. He doesn't know how to be...whoever it is this article thinks he is, the kind of person with which Steve Rogers falls (wildly) in love.

People make assumptions. They look at Steve and Bucky, photographed together for three months now, and they draw inaccurate conclusions with limited evidence: Steve takes Bucky to events, on vacation, to dinner and dancing. They have magnetic sexual chemistry, easily mistaken for love when Bucky is grinding himself all over Steve on a dance floor. Steve was married, so this looks like a relationship. Bucky’s a young, hot rebound.

Nobody but Natasha and Becca know that this is a contracted arrangement.

With that, Bucky exhales, feeling more settled. It's fine. This is fine, it changes nothing, and Bucky...isn't going to bring it up. If Steve does, he'll deal with that conversation if and when it happens, but otherwise, he wants to keep going exactly how he's used to.

Finished with his minor emotional crisis, Bucky puts away his phone, shoves his magazine in the pocket of his jacket, and cracks open his coke, taking a big mouthful of sweet, fizzy chemicals.

What a weird fucking day.

Oddly exhausted from rifling through twenty different emotions at lightning speed, Bucky goes home. JARVIS greets him as he exits the elevator and Bucky sighs and flops down on the couch.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"

"Do you think I'm doing a good job? Making Steve happy?"

There's a long pause. "I am not programmed to answer those questions appropriately, I'm afraid. I can observe that since you have arrived, the captain does not spend as much time alone, and he talks more openly."

Well, duh. Before Bucky came here, Steve wasn't living with anyone. Of course, he's no longer alone.

"He kinda has to talk to me, JARVIS," mutters Bucky. “There’s nobody else here.”

"Yes. Though I have noted an increase in his correspondence with myself and others."

"Oh," says Bucky. Well, okay. It still makes sense and it means Bucky is doing his job. Steve was lonely, now he's not, and he's rebuilding his reputation and social life.

That's what Bucky is here for.

Taking a breath, Bucky falls back on the couch, pulling a pillow over his face. "Thanks, JARVIS."

"Of course, Mr. Barnes. Will there be anything else?"

Bucky yells briefly into the cushion and then pulls it away from his face and clutches it to his chest. "No. Wait...yes? Can you tell Steve I'm...not feeling well and I'm going to bed early tonight?"

"Yes, sir, but is there anything I can do? Your vital signs seem to be within normal limits."

"It's fine, just a little overtired. I think I should take a bath, read a book, and try to relax."

"Very well. I've informed Captain Rogers. He would like to know if you need him to return home early."

"No," he replies quickly. The last thing he needs is Steve showing up right now. It's fine, everything is fine. "No, thank you."

He doesn't think about what it means that Steve was willing to drop everything to come home just because Bucky said he was going to go to bed early.

He pushes himself up and heads to his room, filling up the tub and grabbing the SAT study guide he's been trying to work through. He'll just try to keep his mind busy until his day off is over and he can go back to not thinking at all.

Bucky soaks and studies until he's pruny, finally dragging himself out of the tub and drying off. He's a bit hungry, but he also doesn't want to go out into the kitchen in case Steve sees him and tries to talk, and he really, really doesn't want to avoid Steve. He just needs to get some sleep and tomorrow will go back to normal and Bucky won't have to feel weird about any of this.

So he gets changed into pajamas and goes to bed alone, in his own room.

Steve doesn't knock or otherwise try to talk to him, evidently taking Bucky at his word and respecting that today is his day off; if he wants to sleep alone, he can sleep alone, despite the fact that even on Mondays Bucky tends to want to sleep with Steve.

It's not easy to drop off, but Bucky grabs his headphones and puts on some ambient playlist of rain, thunder, and crackling fireplace noises, and finally drifts to sleep.

The result of going to bed at 8:00 PM, though, is that Bucky wakes up just before five in the goddamn morning. Wide awake.

It's Tuesday, though. Steve will be up in an hour. Bucky could...make him breakfast and then bring it to him in bed. Steve might let Bucky suck his cock.

Bucky hops out of bed and goes to the kitchen. He goes all out, making eggs, bacon, toast, and even frying up a pan of home fries. With the coffee maker percolating, he pushes bacon around in the pan, whistling. He feels better. It's Tuesday. Everything is the same as it ever was.

Piling everything onto a plate, Bucky makes Steve's coffee just how he likes it, carrying it into Steve's bedroom.

The door is propped open, and Bucky can see Steve sprawled in bed, the sheets pooled around his hips. His shoulders are exposed, bare, tempting.

"Steve?" whispers Bucky. He doesn't want to wake him up too early, but it's only a few minutes before his alarm... He creeps in quietly, setting the coffee down on the bedside table. When he turns toward the bed, plate in hand, Steve stirs with a yawn.

"Buck?"

"Brought you breakfast," says Bucky, keeping his voice soft.

"You did?" Steve rubs his eyes, pushing himself up. He smiles at Bucky. "Thank you, baby. You're feeling better?" His hair is sticking up a little, and his beard needs a trim, but he's...soft, like this, gentle and sweet.

Bucky swallows hard and steps forward, kneeling up onto the bed and shuffling forward. "Yeah, just needed an early night. I woke up feeling like what I really wanted was to say thank you for such a good weekend."

"Oh yeah?" asks Steve, voice rough. He licks his lips, taking Bucky in, gaze sliding over him with interest. He scoots himself back, leaning up against the headboard. "That was very thoughtful."

Heat settles into Bucky's stomach and he feels the tug of something deep and comforting pulling at him. He kneels next to Steve's hip, presenting the plate. "Just for you."

"Mmm, just like you, huh?" murmurs Steve, taking the plate from him.

"Yeah," sighs Bucky, picking up the edge of the blanket and looking down. He bites his bottom lip. Steve is nude beneath the bedding.

Steve lifts his eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Oh," says Bucky innocently, squirming down so that he's draped across the bed, half over Steve's lap. "Just making sure you have a good morning before work."

"Mmm, how thoughtful. Well...don't let me stop you." He sets the plate down on Bucky's back. "But try not to knock over my breakfast, Buck."

Bucky groans, nodding and letting his mind blank out as he settles in and sinks his mouth over Steve's quickly firming cock.

"Good boy," sighs Steve. "So good, missed you last night."

Bucky hums happily, surrounded by the salty bitter taste, the heady scent of Steve's skin, his nose pressed to Steve's stomach as Bucky swallows him down. He loves this, loves—

He's good at this, is all, a natural. It's easy to let go of everything else. He doesn't have to think because this thing with Steve is simple, uncomplicated—money for control, pleasure for submission.

By the time it's all over, Bucky is floating pleasantly and there are definitely a few crumbs scattered across the sheets. Bucky will have to clean that up today. Well, whenever he manages to come down from the tingling buzz in his head and on his lips.

At some point, he hears the shower kick on and then Steve reappears dressed and ready for work, leaning over him. He frowns. "You sure you're doing okay, baby?"

"I'm great," says Bucky. He lets the smile he's feeling unfurl over his face. He reaches up, snags Steve's dangling tie, and uses it to pull Steve down into a kiss. Forward, maybe, but Steve lets it happen, chuckling against Bucky's lips.

"Well. Spend as long as you want in my bed, rolling around like a lazy housecat," says Steve. "Clean up when you're done." He pauses, considering Bucky all sprawled out, and then says, "I'm going to call you at noon. Make sure you're naked and waiting in the playroom. We'll have some long distance fun over my lunch break."

"Yes, sir," Bucky drawls, saluting him eagerly.

"That's my good boy," praises Steve, ruffling Bucky's hair before he leaves.

It's exactly what Bucky needed for the day. Structure, purpose. He does what Steve requested, lounging around in Steve's bed, face pressed to the pillow, breathing Steve in, until the fog clears from his brain. Then he cleans up, deciding to change the sheets before he does the dishes. He has a bit of time before lunch, so he goes to the gym, then showers and eats.

Just before noon, he goes to the playroom, strips naked, and kneels down on the floor until JARVIS patches a video call through from Steve. Then for the next hour, Steve's in charge, confidently guiding him through what he wants him to do. It's fun, padding naked through the playroom collecting what Steve wants him to use while Steve sits at his desk and watches. He gets to look through the drawers and cupboards, snagging a hot pink dildo and a small vibrator and then securing the dildo to the spanking bench.

It's good to not think, slicking up his fingers with Steve's encouragement and prepping himself, putting on a show for Steve. Sinking down onto the dildo and straddling the bench, Steve's blue eyes intent on him as he orders Bucky to ride it torturously slow. Gripping his own cock by the base and then using the vibrator on the head, out of his mind with agonized pleasure, Steve chiding him if his rhythm on the dildo falters.

Steve doesn't let him come for the full hour. It’s just before one o’clock and Bucky is wrecked, shivering and soaked with sweat and gasping. Only then does Steve finally gives him permission to let go, soothing Bucky through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

After Steve ends the call, Bucky cleans up on shaky legs and then takes another shower. He falters a bit in the afternoon without a clear set of instructions, but he manages to drag out his indecision by tidying the playroom and then moving his attention to the entire rest of the apartment.

Then, thankfully, Steve comes home, and Bucky relaxes at his feet in the living room while Steve feeds him his dinner from his fingers.

The rest of the week passes slowly but without incident, Steve keeping up a steady stream of games and distractions that allow Bucky to push the article right out of his head. If Steve himself saw it, he never brings it up.

On Friday during lunch, though, Steve texts him a picture of...puppies.

Bucky: ???
Steve: Sam's sister has a rescue dog and she had puppies
Bucky: awwwwww so cute!!!
Steve: I thought you might like to see
Bucky: they're so FLUFFY
Bucky: I would die for them
Steve: 😂 well I don't think we need to be that dramatic
Steve: they're all going to good homes
Bucky: how old are they?
Steve: just turned 8 weeks, sam was talking about them today. him and riley are taking one
Bucky: do they need a dog walker? I'm very free during most days
Steve: i'll mention it
Steve: gotta run, see you tonight

Bucky smiles to himself and tucks his phone away, going back to the book he's reading. They already agreed to order in pizza tonight, one of their favorite Friday night meals, and so Bucky is content to sit cozied up on the couch until either Steve or the delivery guy gets here first.

Steve beats the delivery guy by ten minutes and they have a quiet Friday night in, eating pizza, watching movies, and having some slow, sleepy sex.

In the morning, after breakfast, Steve comes into the kitchen with Bucky's leather jacket and tosses it at him. "We're going for a drive," he says.

"Oh?" says Bucky, shrugging it on. "Where to?"

"You'll see," says Steve. "It's a surprise."

Bucky hops up from the bar stool and trails after Steve to the door. "Is it a sexy surprise?"

Steve barks a laugh. "At nine in the morning on a Saturday?"

"Excuse me?" demands Bucky, grabbing his sneakers. "It's actually kinda late. I feel like I've usually had an orgasm by now."

"Since when do I let you have such easy orgasms?" says Steve, raising an eyebrow. He grabs his keys and pockets them. "Doesn't sound like me at all. But if you'd rather not have a surprise, I'm perfectly happy leaving you, hmm, all tied up in the playroom until I get back."

"No! No, I'll be good," says Bucky, giving Steve a winning smile and hooking their arms together as they head into the elevator. "I want my non-sexy surprise."

They drive out to Queens, neighborhoods rolling by, Bucky growing more and more confused by the second. When they stop in front of a completely unfamiliar duplex, Bucky turns to Steve with both eyebrows raised. "Where are we?"

"At Angela's house," says Steve, shutting off the car and opening his door.

Bucky scrambles to follow, hopping out of the car and looking at Steve. "Who's Angela?"

"Sam's sister." Like it's obvious.

Bucky's brow wrinkles. "Sam's sister...the one with the puppies?"

"The exact same." Steve is grinning at him and Bucky's stomach flips.

"Um," he says. "Steve?"

"Come on," says Steve, holding out his hand as he comes around the car. "We don't want to keep her waiting."

Bucky takes Steve's hand automatically, allowing himself to be pulled toward the front door. This isn't real, though. This is some kind of bizarre dream. Steve gets him things, objects, stuff that means nothing. Steve spends money on him for the extravagance of it, the status of it.

Steve rings the doorbell and Bucky hears the excited chorus of several puppies and dogs start up, barking loud and enthusiastic. Seconds later, the door swings open and a pretty woman with delicate ringlets cut into a short bob and deep, golden-toned black skin opens the door. She looks like Sam, from what Bucky remembers of him the couple of times they met, and her smile is bright.

"Hi, Steve! Long time no see. And you must be Bucky!" she says, opening the door. "Come on in. The dogs are in the laundry room right now. They just finished breakfast."

"Thanks for letting us come today, Angela."

"Of course! Honestly, as much fun as the puppies have been, it's going to be nice to have my home back. When my friend asked if I'd take in a pregnant rescue, I had no idea what I was signing myself up for," she laughs.

Bucky starts to shut down.

There are two possible things happening here. One, Steve has brought Bucky to Angela's house to play with some puppies, and when they leave here, it won't be with a dog, and the world will right itself again. Two, Steve has brought him here to take home a puppy.

Steve and Angela keep talking, engrossed in chatting and catching up. Bucky doesn't comprehend a word of it, but luckily neither of them addresses him, and he lets himself be pulled along, Steve's hand strong and warm around his.

He tunes back in when one of the puppies, a wriggling lump of downy fluff, is held out to him, and Bucky takes it automatically with a wounded noise.

Steve and Angela both laugh—he must sound like he's overwhelmed by how cute the thing is, and ordinarily, he would be. There's nothing cuter than an eight-week-old puppy, warm and soft and squirming in his arms, licking his face.

"It's a girl, you said, right?" Steve is asking.

Because he arranged this. Sometime since showing Bucky the photos, maybe even before, he arranged this with Angela, chose one for Bucky...

"Yep," says Angela. "All ready to go. I have a bag of food for you, too, what we've been feeding them."

"Thank you," says Steve.

"Oh my god," Bucky whispers thinly. He wants to…. He doesn't know what he wants to do. Scream? Cry? He can't believe any of this is happening, he doesn't understand why it's happening, and he can't react in front of Angela. He can't react at all but to clutch at the puppy and close his eyes in utter shock.

The rest is a blur. He thinks he makes the right noises, says the right polite words to Angela, but he's still holding a puppy when they leave, Steve's hand warm on his back as he holds the bag Angela gave him.

"I remembered what you said," Steve says quietly, stopping by the car and opening the door for him. "On your birthday. How you never..." He clears his throat. "When Sam told me about his sister's rescue, it just seemed perfect."

"Steve..." says Bucky. The puppy licks his face. Bucky feels like his chest is caving in. "She's so cute," he says weakly before he gets in the car.

"You'll have to think of a name," says Steve, sliding into the driver's seat and buckling up. He glances over and maybe he notices that Bucky is just clutching helplessly to the new puppy because he reaches across and secures Bucky's seatbelt too. "Any ideas?"

A name? Bucky looks down at the puppy and she yawns, her eyes starting to drift shut, the excitement of going somewhere already a lot. Bucky's heart is hammering. "I don't know," he says, but he can barely hear his own voice, like it's lodged under his ribs and can't get out.

"Well, you have a little while. I had America sign you up for puppy classes with her starting in a couple weeks, give you some time to bond first before you go," Steve tells him, eyes on the road as they head back through Queens and across the river to Manhattan.

Bucky still can't think. The puppy is warm and small and precious, whimpering slightly in a dream. Bucky pets her soothingly.

They make it back to the penthouse in record time, too fast, really, and he can feel Steve watching him after the car shuts off and the engine ticks slowly. "Buck?"

Bucky's breath catches. He’s trembling as he stares down at the puppy. "You got me a dog."

"Yes," says Steve, too much caution in his tone. "Do you...not want one? I thought—"

"She's perfect," says Bucky, throat burning. "She's so cute."

"Then what's wrong?" he asks, still keeping an overly calm voice.

"You remembered." He can't think of what else he's supposed to say.

Steve undoes his seatbelt with a click and Bucky realizes they're just sitting there in the car, tension in the air, so he fumbles to release the catch, scooping the puppy into the crook of his elbow as he exits the car.

This seems to reassure Steve, who gets out as well, grabbing the bag from the backseat as they head to the elevator.

But it seems to worsen as they head upstairs, the weight of it on Bucky's chest, the sheer incomprehension of what this means. Maybe if that article had never been published, this wouldn't have registered as wrong on Bucky's radar, and he'd be thinking of names right now and having Steve vote on them; he'd be cooing and gushing and thanking Steve for yet another stunningly thoughtful, ridiculously over the top gift.

Steve took him out for his birthday, gave him a beautiful watch. They went to Maui, and just because Bucky jokingly declared 'no punishments on vacation', Steve indulged him, letting Bucky run wild with their usual dynamic. Then Steve arranged another birthday celebration, dancing, and fireworks...and he fucked Bucky so deep and slow and sweet, let him beg and plead, he....

Steve made love to him.

Bucky makes it three steps into the penthouse before his throat closes up around the lump in it and he stops short, swallowing his sob.

"Bucky?" Steve turns to him, concerned.

"Take her," Bucky says roughly.

"What—"

"Please take her," Bucky says harshly, holding the puppy out.

She's awake again, whining a little, but Steve takes her into his arms and soothes her, his expression so similar to hers that Bucky can barely stand to look at his wide eyes and hurt mouth. "Bucky? Baby, what's wrong?"

"You got me a dog," repeats Bucky, his voice breaking. The tears are coming now and he wipes furiously at his eyes. "You remembered a totally throwaway comment I made and then you just did it, like it's nothing to you. You keep doing it, and I am so stupid to think it doesn’t mean anything, aren’t I?"

Steve doesn't respond right away, but he breaks eye contact, pressing his lips against the puppy’s head. It probably means enough right then, but Bucky can't move, can't do anything but wait.

"You're not stupid," says Steve, still not looking up. "It's not like I tried to tell you. I don't want to pressure you."

"You don't want to—" Bucky breaks off, his head spinning. "You love me."

"Yes," says Steve, finally looking up at him again. "I do. I’m in love with you, Buck."

"How long? Since Hawaii?" Bucky doesn't know why he's asking. He doesn't know why it matters. He can't do this. He can't be this.

Steve shakes his head. "No, I…. Maybe just before I met your sister. That’s when I knew."

"Jesus Christ," breathes Bucky, turning away. Tears slip down his cheeks and he scrubs them away with his sleeve. "I don't know what you want me to do. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Steve!"

"Nothing," croaks Steve. "This doesn't need to change anything."

"It doesn't need to...so I'm just supposed to ignore this? I'm supposed to carry on like you're just...some guy who pays me to live here and do what you say when really you're in love and everyone but me knows it?" Bucky is starting to feel a little hysterical, his volume sharply increasing. "What—how did you envision this ending, Steve? How the fuck am I just supposed to be okay with this? I can't be this person. This wasn’t in the script. I'm not...I've never even been in love with anyone before! I don’t know what it means!"

"I'm not asking you to be someone you're not," Steve says. His voice trembles. "I didn't want you to feel like you needed to make a decision that you weren’t ready to make. I hadn't figured out how to talk to you about it, for this exact reason."

Holy shit. Bucky is reeling, each of Steve's words like a physical blow. "So you must have seen the article."

Steve closes his eyes. He nods. "Of course I saw it."

"But you didn't say anything," says Bucky. "You were going to pretend it didn't exist, just like your feelings for me? You couldn't bring it up because you couldn't lie about it not being true. Instead you just leaned right into spoiling me again. Acting like nothing changed."

"I just wanted to give you something that would make you happy," Steve whispers. He opens his eyes again and they're red-rimmed, glassy. "I kept thinking about what you said."

"I can't," says Bucky, pressing a hand to the middle of his chest. "Oh my god, I can't do this, I...I told Becca she was crazy to think you have feelings for me. Here I am, thinking people just see what they want to see, you know? All these strangers, telling me how happy you look, how good we look together, and me, the idiot, thinking, well they don't know the truth. Of course, they're going to see what they think is real. It looks like a relationship to them but we know it’s not. Joke’s on me, I guess! It’s real to you, too!"

"Bucky, please," begs Steve. "I was going to tell you. I just needed to figure out how."

"It doesn't matter," says Bucky. He scrubs at his eyes, shaking his head. "That's not what this is about. You can't have everything, Steve. You can't draw it all up, print it out, and have me sign it, and then go off the books. You can't have that! You can't have the one thing that's not included! God!" Bucky sobs. He takes a step back. He can't be here a second longer. He can't look at Steve's wet eyes and devastated expression, can't think about how he hasn't moved since Bucky made him hold the dog.

"Bucky." Steve sniffles, licking his lips. The tip of his nose is pink. Bucky's never seen him cry before. "I'm sorry. I just—"

"No," says Bucky. If he doesn't say it now, he's going to be sick. "No, I'm…. JARVIS can make a record of it, he's always recording, right? I'm breaking the contract. I want to dissolve the arrangement."

Steve looks stunned, tears continuing to slip down his face. The puppy is licking his chin and cheek and Bucky has to look away or else he’ll lose it completely. "Bucky, please don't do this. I won't—we can adjust the contract, we can place limits on gifts or—" He breaks off, taking a shuddering breath. "Whatever you want, okay? You can have whatever you want."

Hearing Steve beg is only making everything worse. "God, stop! You don't get it, do you? What kind of person do you think I am, that I can just…. I won't be this...this parasite who takes advantage of you, who lets you love me while I sit here and collect a check, lets you pretend—"

"I'm not pretending,” Steve interrupts desperately. “I just wanted you to feel secure, safe. We don't have to have a contract, I don't need that control. I just want you, I want—"

"I know what you want," says Bucky, struggling to keep his tears under control so that he can unequivocally communicate to Steve what he wants. He needs this to be done, he needs to be away from here, away from how Steve looks right now, from the ache in his heart and the burning in his chest. "The answer is no. I can't give it to you and I don't have to anymore."

Steve's expression crumples completely at that, tears falling quickly as he sucks in a sharp breath. "Bucky, please."

"I have to go," says Bucky, head spinning, pulse pounding. He turns away and heads for his room—no, it’s not his room anymore. He's leaving. He just needs a bag, one bag is enough. He doesn't want most of the things here. Just enough to get him by.

Steve doesn't follow him into the bedroom. Bucky finds a backpack and shoves several pairs of jeans and shirts into it, socks and underwear. He gets a toothbrush and strips out of his leather jacket, throwing on a hoodie instead. He takes his phone because he doesn't have a choice, but he leaves the laptop and the headphones.

Finally, Bucky carefully removes his watch and puts it down on the bedside table.

Then he texts Becca.

Bucky: i'm leaving steve. i'm sorry for the short notice but can I stay with you tonight? i'll try to find my own place soon
Becca: what??? call me!!
Bucky: i will, soon as I'm out of the building
Becca: okay buck 😥 I'm waiting

Bucky shuts his eyes and tries to brace himself for actually leaving. He has to look at Steve one more time and he honestly doesn’t think he’s strong enough.

"JARVIS?" he whispers.

"Yes, sir?"

"I, um, I'm leaving."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Barnes."

"Yeah, well. I just wanted to say thanks for everything."

"It was my pleasure, sir."

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Keep, um, keep an eye on Steve. Make sure you call a friend for him if he needs."

There's a long pause and then, "I will try my best, Mr. Barnes. May I call a car for you?"

Bucky shakes his head. "No, I'm gonna take the subway. Goodbye, JARVIS."

"Goodbye, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky takes a final steadying breath and then pushes out into the hall and toward the door. He's not sure what he was bracing himself to experience, but whatever it was, it doesn't happen. Steve is nowhere to be seen. The front hall is empty and quiet.

His heart breaking in his chest, Bucky adjusts the straps on his bag and gets on the elevator.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

Bucky silently rides the elevator down to the ground floor.

As he watches the numbers tick down, Bucky thinks about how Steve has never prevented him from leaving, has always given him an out. Bucky has made his decision and Steve isn't going to stop him. He's keeping his word.

Not that Bucky thought he wouldn't. He just didn't think he'd ever need to take advantage of the contract.

He stumbles out of the elevator in a daze, momentarily disoriented when he realizes he's on the main level, the lobby, and not the parking garage. But Bucky told JARVIS he didn't want a car, after all.

Bucky gets himself together, heading out the main entrance and onto the street, veering for the subway a couple of blocks away as he calls Becca.

"Hey," says Becca breathlessly, answering immediately. "Bucky, what happened? What's wrong?"

"You were right," Bucky sobs, because the second he opens his mouth, he starts to cry again. "Steve's in love with me. I can't. I can't do it, I can't be that for him, and I left, I'm leaving, I'm just getting on the subway."

"Okay," says Becca. "You're okay?" She hesitates. "He didn't—"

"No," cries Bucky, horrified. "No, he didn't hurt me, he didn't even touch me. He didn't stop me, he just let me go. I ended it. I'll explain when I get there. I'm hanging up."

"Bucky—"

He ends the call, wiping at his eyes and nose, pulling up his hood as he jogs down the steps to the subway and swipes his pass to push through the barrier, hurrying down the stairs. He slumps onto the first train that comes, huddling up in a corner seat and burying his face in his backpack as he cries.

Somehow, he makes it to Becca's on muscle memory alone. She buzzes him up immediately, anxiously opening the door and putting her arms out as he staggers in. He falls into her embrace, burying his face in her shoulder and clutching at her back while he cries like a child.

Becca just holds him, rubbing his back and comforting him with soft, reassuring words.

"I couldn't stay," he finally wails, hiccuping miserably. "I couldn't stay knowing that he feels like that about me and I don't even know what that means."

"Come here," orders Becca. She releases Bucky enough to guide him to the couch, getting him settled there and sitting down beside him, an arm around his shoulders. "Take some deep breaths. Tell me what happened."

Bucky sniffles, wiping at his eyes. Then he remembers Steve's shellshocked, teary face, and his eyes well up all over again. "It's been...weird, all week. There was this article—"

"I saw it," Becca says softly. "A bunch of my friends recognized your name and sent it to me."

"Y-yeah," mumbles Bucky. "Steve ignored it. I figured it was what he wanted people to think. But I couldn't help remembering what you said in Maui, and I was trying to get over it, how it made me feel like I was sticking my head in the sand, until... today, he took me out to Queens, to see these puppies, and...."

God, it sounds so stupid. Steve loves him and got him a puppy and Bucky completely lost his shit. What a piece of work he is.

"Why did he get you a puppy?" Becca asks calmly.

"Because...because on my birthday, we saw one in a pet store, and I mentioned how I'd always wanted a dog," Bucky says, wringing his hands. "He remembered. He remembered that, because he doesn't just like spoiling me, he wants me to be happy, and I freaked out. All these things he's done, they're not just... It's not just stuff. The way he talks to me, smiles at me... I finally got it. What you kept saying in Maui. It broke my fucking heart. So I asked him."

"And he told you he loves you."

"Yes," breathes out Bucky, like it costs him something to say, even now, ripped from him. "He said he didn't want to pressure me, that's why he hadn't said anything. He...he just stood there, holding this puppy, crying. He was crying, saying he didn't expect anything from me, and it just made it worse. I couldn't—It was too much."

"Okay," she says. "Okay, I know...it's overwhelming to hear someone loves you when you don't love them back."

Bucky's heart hammers; he squeezes his eyes shut and rubs them hard, just trying to think. "Yeah."

She hesitates, rubbing his back. "And you don't just want some time to think about it? You're...sure."

"Sure about what?"

"That you don't love him too?"

Bucky feels like he's been slapped. He stands up, moving away from her, wrapping his arms around himself. "What kind of question is that?"

"Um, probably a valid one, Bucky."

"I just said I don't even know what that means! I'm not equipped for that!" He paces, feeling like his tears are going to choke him. It would be a mercy. "He's been married before, Becca. He's already figured all that out. I've never even dated anyone. I don't—I can't be that for him!"

"Be what? What do you think you have to be to receive love?"

Bucky doesn't know the answer to that question, but he knows that it can't be who he is right now.

"He hired me," Bucky says shakily, because he has to make Becca understand. "He hired me to be his...his accessory. He drafted a contract and we both signed it. For almost four months, I've been reminding myself that I'm a thing, to him. I'm a toy. A fun distraction, I'm company at night, I'm someone he can show off in public so that glowing articles get written about his bounce back onto the social scene. Because I'm supposed to help his reputation, Becca! That's what he wanted."

"Sometimes what we want changes," Becca says very evenly. She's keeping calm, watching him carefully. "Sometimes we don't expect to develop feelings, but they happen anyway."

"Then he lied to me," says Bucky firmly. "Admitted he didn't know how or when to tell me but he's felt this way about me for a while and—" He's going to explode out of his skin. "The only way I've been able to get my head around why he would want me at all is to remind myself this is my job! He changed the script. He wasn't supposed to ever want more. He even asked—"

Bucky stops dead, horrified.

"What? He asked for what, Bucky?"

"A little while ago," Bucky says. "He said he would be..." Bucky struggles to remember exactly how Steve had phrased it, because Bucky had been out of his mind with pleasure, floating pleasantly in subspace. "He said he would be 'open' to me staying on after the contract was up. I thought he meant...to extend it, or...or..."

Bucky drops back down onto the couch, head in his hands.

Becca pulls him close again, wrapping her arms around him. She kisses the top of his head and after a while says, "Whatever you want to do, I'll support you, okay? If you want time, then take some time. If you want it over forever, then it can be over forever. You've got options and you're safe with me, okay?"

Bucky nods quietly. Over forever. God, is that really what he wants? Never to see Steve again?

The thought makes panic threaten to swallow him whole, grief tight in his throat.

What choice does he have, though? He can't even contemplate what Steve wants from him. No, he has to push through. It's fine. He'll be fine without Steve.

He didn't need him before and he doesn't need him now.

"I'll...figure it out."

"There's no rush, okay? You can stay with me as long as you need."

Becca helps him get settled and they curl up in her bed with her computer and watch Netflix until Bucky manages to fall asleep.

On Sunday morning, Bucky wakes up overheated and sweaty from all the blankets he burritoed himself in the night before, and at first he's confused. JARVIS always regulates the temperature for him so he can sleep bundled up and pressed against the human furnace that is Steve Rogers.

Then he remembers.

Eyes burning, he pushes up and into Becca's bathroom, closing himself in to splash cold water on his face. He's fine. Everything is fine. He left for a good reason, made the right decision—the only decision.

When he exits the bathroom, Becca's roommate, Hildy, is waiting with a sleepy look on her face, eyes barely open.

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean—" he starts immediately, feeling guilty for being in her way when technically it's probably against the rules for him to stay here more than a night or two. Hildy's always seemed cool when he's met her before, but that wasn't him being in her way, in her bathroom at 8:00 AM on a Sunday morning.

She waves him off though, pushing her fingers through her hair as she shuffles past him. "Hey, it's cool. Don't sweat it. You know how to make waffles? I really want waffles but Becca banned me from the waffle iron," she admits sadly.

"I can make waffles," says Bucky, trying not to think of Steve doing the same for him. He swallows back his sadness and gives Hildy a smile.

"Awesome. You stay as long as you want," she says, and then closes the door in his face.

Bucky huffs and heads into the kitchen. Becca's still asleep but he's sure she'll be up soon, so he puts on coffee first and then tries to figure out the waffle situation. This is good. Something to focus on that's not Steve.

Not that it ultimately helps. The rest of the day passes without a peep from Steve, and that just seems to make Bucky think about him more. He's not sure what it means that Steve hasn't tried to call him or even send a text. He's never spent this long away from Steve since he moved in with him and he keeps expecting a message asking what he wants for dinner. Becca is quiet and doesn't push him a ton, but he catches her staring at him. Even Hildy seems to know something's up, heading off to stay at her boyfriend's for the night with an awkward wave.

Bucky concentrates instead on browsing the internet on Becca's laptop, ostensibly to check his email (nothing from Steve there either), though he's finding it hard to really absorb anything else he's reading. He just...needs a plan, needs to figure out what he's going to do now that he's terminated the contract eight months early.

He scrubs his hands through his hair and looks up at Becca who is eating a bowl of cereal for dinner. "I think I'm going to get a job."

Becca stares at him. "Why?"

"Um...for money?" he says, standing up to go pour his own bowl of Lucky Charms.

She frowns. "I thought, uh, the contract? Aren't you...going to continue to get money? And, like, a place to live?"

Somehow, even though all of that was the draw of starting all this to begin with, he completely forgot. No, forgot is the wrong word for it. He pushed it from his head. Unthinkable.

"I'm not going to get that."

"He's backing out of his end of the deal?" she asks sharply, suddenly looking way more alert than even fifteen seconds ago. "Just because you rejected him doesn't mean he can get out of a legally binding agreement. That's why there's a contract. He can't—"

"I meant I'm not going to take it!" he snaps, refusing to meet her eyes. "I can keep the money I already earned because that was part of the original deal, but all the amendments, agreeing to pay me all that extra stuff even if I left…. He did that because of his feelings for me. I'm not taking it. I can't."

Becca frowns at him. "It's still going to get transferred to you," she points out stubbornly. "You agreed to that. You're entitled to it."

"I don't want it," Bucky says, just as stubbornly. "I don't fucking care. I'll close the account. I know where his lawyer's office is, too. I can just...go down there, talk to her, and sign whatever I need to sign to agree that I'm okay with not touching another cent. I won't take anything else from him."

Becca looks like she desperately wants to argue with him but she doesn't say anything at all, taking a furious bite of her cereal. "So what do you need from me?" she finally asks.

For you to be on my side, Bucky wants to snap. Why is she acting like he's being unreasonable? He doesn't feel able to accept any of this. Not when he's the one that ended the agreement. If Steve had done it, if Bucky really was in danger of being out on his ass involuntarily, maybe he'd be okay with it, but Bucky is the one that pulled the entire ridiculous charade down around their ears.

He's the one that broke Steve's heart.

"If you hear about any jobs, let me know," Bucky mumbles. "I can do clerical stuff. Coffee shops. I dunno. Anything."

"Okay," says Becca. "Sure. I can do that."

On Monday, he goes straight to the bank, transfers the untouched money he has in there to a new account, then closes out the old one.

Nobody's going to give him any fucking money he doesn't deserve.

It's not a moment too soon, either. That afternoon, he starts to get emails regarding the dissolution of the contract and all the things that go along with that.

The emails aren't from Steve, they're directly from Steve's lawyer, and after skimming the first line and realizing what it is, Bucky closes it quickly. He can't bring himself to read it. Or call the lawyer. They can't force him to get paid.

Becca's true to her word, though. He only has to spend two days bouncing around in her apartment, keeping out of Hildy's way as much as possible and cleaning manically in an effort to earn his keep. She calls in some favors and hooks him up with a part-time job at The Strand, which isn't far from the campus and is honestly one of his favorite places in Manhattan, even if it is always crowded with tourists. They bring him in for an interview Wednesday morning and let him start that afternoon. It's something, at least, though he'll need more than a part-time job if he intends to stay near Becca when he finally moves out.

He finds himself wishing he could tell Steve all about it at the end of the shift, walking home along the always busy street. He reaches for his phone and pulls Steve's message thread up without thinking and suddenly his eyes fill with tears.

He stares at his phone. Their last exchange was about the puppy, the picture still sitting at the top of the screen. Bucky quickly closes it and scrubs at his eyes. This is stupid. It's not—

Steve's not his boyfriend and he never was.

The day after he starts at the bookstore, Becca takes him to dinner with her parents. To be fair, they planned it right after they got home from Maui, so it's not like either of them intended for it to happen in the middle of Bucky's entire life turning into a shitshow. It's just not exactly the frame of mind he wanted to be in when he met the people his sister calls mom and dad. He'd rather power through than cancel, though, so he does his best to paste a smile on his face.

Becca's already done so much for him. He doesn't want to disappoint her.

"Are you sure?" Becca asks for the fifth time. They’re on the stoop of her building, waiting for the Lyft. Becca’s parents live in Queens. "If you’re not feeling up to it, we can always postpone—"

"I don’t want to," Bucky says as patiently as he can. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and lets it out slowly through his mouth. "I’m fine, Becks. Please."

"Okay," says Becca. "Hey, that’s us." She points to a car pulling up to the curb. "Did you take the pie?"

"Got it," says Bucky, patting the box tucked under his arm. "You got the wine?"

"Yep."

"Then we’re set."

Traffic isn’t too bad, but the ride is quiet and a little awkward, if only because Becca seems so desperate to engage him on the underlying issue of Steve but recognizes now is really not the time. Bucky turns his face to look out the window, watching as the city turns into tidy suburbs, the pie still a bit warm where it’s tucked over his knees. He made it earlier and the careful work of rolling out dough had kept his mind and hands busy long enough to relax a bit.

Still, as the car pulls up in front of a big detached home with a very well maintained lawn, Bucky’s heart rate picks up again a little.

Becca’s hand squeezes his knee. "It’s going to be great, okay? No need to be nervous."

"Uh huh," says Bucky, opening the car door.

They both thank the driver before he pulls away, then they’re standing at the end of the driveway, Bucky clutching desperately at the pie. The way he sees it, there are only two real possibilities for the kind of impression he’s going to make: 1) they’re going to pity him, or 2) they’re going to disapprove of him and also maybe pity him too.

"Come on," says Becca, taking his hand. They walk up the drive, Becca extracting keys from her purse. The porch light is on and the front windows are lit warmly from within. Just as Becca is about to put the key in the lock, the door swings open, revealing a small middle-aged woman with brown eyes and honey-colored hair.

"Mom!" yelps Becca. "It is so creepy when you do that!"

"Sorry!" she laughs. "I saw the car pull up and couldn’t help myself." Becca leans in for a half-hug and a kiss on the cheek and it’s...really kind of adorable, how much taller Becca is. "Hi, sweetheart. Oh—"

Becca pulls back, putting a comforting hand in the center of Bucky’s back. "This is Bucky. Bucky, this is my mom, Cristina."

"Oh," repeats Cristina. She seems a bit frozen, now, looking up at Bucky with wide, warm eyes, expression one of open shock.

"Hi," whispers Bucky. Then he clears his throat and smiles weakly. "Sorry, um, hi," he repeats, voice a little stronger. "It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Proctor. I made you a pie." He holds it out desperately.

"Oh, I’m so sorry," Cristina laughs, putting a hand to her chest. "I’ve seen pictures, of course. Becca showed me all her pictures from your trip, but I wasn’t prepared for the resemblance up close like this I guess!"

"Yep," says Becca. "Genes are bananas, huh? Okay, mom, you gonna let us in?"

"Of course," says Cristina, jump-started back into motion. "A pie? Oh, honey, you didn’t have to bring a thing, let alone bake something! Thank you."

Bucky lets himself be ushered inside, still feeling a little lightheaded, like he isn’t really inhabiting his body right now. The pie gets removed from his hands, and then he shrugs out of his jacket, which also gets taken from him. After a flurry of conversation, he finds himself seated next to Becca in a cozy living room, a glass of wine in hand.

"Where’s dad?" asks Becca, snagging a stuffed mushroom cap from the plate on the coffee table.

Oh, appetizers. Bucky fucking loves hors d'oeuvres. Food should always be tiny. The last time he had food this fancy was—

Nope. Bad.

"He’ll be right down. He was just on the phone with—"

"Oh, dad!"

Bucky looks up from his brief foray into the abyss to find they’ve been joined by Becca’s father. He’s not short, but he’s not tall, either. In fact, Becca and Bucky are taller than both of them.

"Dad, this is Bucky," says Becca. "Buck, this is my dad, Daniel Proctor." Oh, that’s his cue. Bucky sets his wine glass down and rises, holding out his hand.

"Sir," he says, feeling a little breathless. "It’s so nice to finally meet you."

"Oh, please," scoffs Daniel. "None of that. You can call me Daniel, or Dan. I’m not fussed." His pale green eyes crinkle kindly at the corners when he smiles. He has thick hair that’s a nondescript brown, while his impressive beard is a burnished copper color.

Bucky returns his smile. "Thank you both for having me."

"Sit, sit," Cristina encourages. "Take some munchies. There’s more coming. Would you like some more wine?"

"Mom," huffs Becca, settling back down next to Bucky. She pats his knee. "Give him a second to finish the first glass."

"I’m fine," nods Bucky. "Thank you. Sorry. I’m...really nervous."

"Oh, honey," says Cristina. "I can’t imagine how weird this must be. There’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re just glad to meet you. Becca’s been so happy to spend the last couple of months getting to know you. I hope we get the chance, too. You’re welcome here any time."

"Thank you," repeats Bucky, a little flustered. "That’s really kind. I know you didn’t sign up for a surprise twin."

"If we’d known—" Cristina starts to say.

Becca tenses next to him. "Mom," she cautions softly.

"Oh, I know," says Cristina. "I’m sorry. We didn’t know. I didn’t know. If we had, then…"

"I get it," Bucky says, his throat tight. It does kind of hurt a bit because there’s nothing anyone can do about it now. There’s no going back, no fixing it. Becca grew up with a family, and he didn’t... But it’s okay. It’s not something Bucky ever wants to resent or feel bitter about. He smiles shakily, mortified his eyes are burning, but he can see that Cristina’s eyes are a bit wet too. If the Proctors had known, they would have taken Bucky, too. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"Well," says Daniel, clearing his throat. He looks from Becca to Bucky and then back again. "Becca tells us you’re planning to start classes soon, Bucky?"

"In January, probably," says Bucky. "I’m studying for the SATs right now."

Conversation relaxes a bit, from there. There’s plenty of material in college plans; he gets advice and recommendations, encouragement and cheerleading. Bucky also eats like ten stuffed mushrooms, way too many cocktail shrimp, and these little puff pastry cheese things that taste like heaven.

Eventually, they move into the dining room for dinner. He learns that Daniel is more of a cook than Cristina is, and once Becca and Cristina tried to make a beef wellington for Daniel’s birthday because Gordon Ramsay made it look easy. It was decidedly not, and they ended up ordering pizza, instead.

It’s nice.

Sitting around the table like this, though, as warm and friendly and welcoming as it is, sticks in his throat.

Bucky is, admittedly, prone to tears. This is a pretty emotional situation. It’s acceptable for him to get choked up. There’s just something about being here, in a casual setting, with a set of parents that raised his sister but not him, that overwhelms him to the point of panic. The awareness of how he doesn’t truly belong keeps hitting him in the face whenever he has to ask where to find the bathroom or if he can put the pie in the oven for a bit to heat it up for dessert.

Everyone loves his apple pie, though.

Becca seems to sense when he’s hit his limit on interaction. They’ve eaten, had dessert, and several glasses of wine. They’ve talked about nothing of consequence, really, besides possible college choices for Bucky to apply to.

Steve doesn’t come up at all.

"We gotta get going," says Becca a little after nine. "Bucky’s got a new job and I have early classes."

Bucky is indescribably grateful they’re not the kind of parents that insist on staying longer.

At the door, his nerves fried and his insides a fraught mess, Bucky gives Cristina and Daniel each a hug. "Thank you so much for having me," he murmurs. "I had a really nice time."

"Hope to see you again," says Daniel.

"Any time, dear," Cristina says warmly. "Becca, text me when you’re both home."

"Sure, ma. ‘Course. Good night, I’ll see you guys the weekend after next."

In the Lyft, Bucky sags against Becca’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. "They’re really nice," he sighs.

"They loved you," says Becca, wrapping her arm around him. "You okay? I could see you flagging."

"Yeah," says Bucky. "Sorry. It was great, it was just...a lot. More than I expected. I didn’t know how that was going to feel."

"Don’t be sorry," says Becca gently.

"Thanks for sharing that with me," Bucky says. "That was special."

When they get back to Becca’s place, they both head to bed early, but Bucky finds he doesn’t get to sleep for a long time.

He spends the rest of the week perfecting his resume when he's not working a shift at the bookstore, sending it out to every company he can think of and responding to every job posting he can find. He very firmly avoids discussing any of it with Becca. She keeps looking at him like there's something wrong. There's nothing wrong. He's just...moving on. That's what he needs to do.

Steve was—

Steve—

Living in that penthouse, being taken care of, having all that attention; it was a fantasy. Bucky shouldn't have indulged in it, shouldn't have indulged Steve. Now it's like coming off a really amazing high. It was never going to last and Bucky needs to reorient himself to the real world.

He lines up a few job interviews and keeps himself busy, all the while scouring everywhere within an hour commute for another place to live. He misses Brooklyn, but if he can find anything in Manhattan (a sublet, something temporary, anything), he knows it'll be better for his commute if he does intend to go to school.

Mostly, he just puts one foot in front of the other. He's moved on every time something terrible has happened in his life. Not that this is something terrible. It's not. He gave up some nice amenities, and in the process saved a rich idiot from getting caught up in playing house.

When he crams his face into the pillow at night and tries to be as quiet as possible while he cries himself to sleep, he tells himself it's just an adjustment period. In the morning, he ignores Becca's sad looks. If he can avoid their eyes catching, he can avoid another rinse and repeat conversation.

("Bucky, I hate seeing you like this! You're not happy!"

"So? Who said I had to be happy?"

"You cry every night! That's not normal. I don't understand why you won't try to talk to him. You clearly miss him."

"Miss who?"

"God! Fine, never mind."

"I'm sorry, I just don't see the point. It's over.")

When he gets a six-week assignment from one of the three temp agencies he signed up with, he jumps on an open room in a 3 bedroom apartment he sees posted on the board in the coffee shop near The Strand. It's only six blocks from the nearest train station and a twenty-five-minute walk to the bookstore.

On the other hand, it has four roommates, one bathroom, and the guy was pretty upfront about how the stove didn't really work. Still, his part of the rent's only $900/month plus utilities, he'll have his own room, and it's a month-to-month lease. It's a steal for this area, and he doesn't want to be far away from Becca even if he's desperate to get out of her place.

"Bucky, you don't have to go," Becca insists for the hundredth time.

Bucky sighs. "I know, Becca. I just...I need to get back to what I know, okay? I need to take care of myself for a while."

Becca watches him as he packs his clothes up. They're letting him in the same day, seemed like they really needed the cash. Bucky's not complaining.

"Fine," she says, voice small. "Just...please come over as much as you want. I don't want you to be alone."

"I'll be living with four other people!"

"Strangers! You said it's two couples that live in the other two bedrooms and they're never around."

"It's fine, okay? Just...please, can we not fight about this?" he asks.

"Yeah, alright."

She's not happy, but Bucky can't stand to stay, not with Becca's eyes on him all the time as he struggles to get over this. At least he can fall apart alone and only pull himself together long enough to see Becca for organized visits.

So he keeps going.

He starts his new job and moves into his new apartment. It's tinier than he remembers from the viewing; his room barely fits the mini fridge Becca gave him and the tiny card table and chair he picked up from goodwill. He goes to sleep alone every single night on the blowup mattress he stuffs on the built-in loft and tries not to think about how much he wants Steve's arms around him, how much he misses his presence, how alone he feels.

At least he doesn't have to cry quietly, now.

His days fill up with work, which is its own kind of mindlessness. The temp job is at a law firm, helping them sort through a backlog of twenty years of files, boxes and boxes that have never been properly inventoried or cataloged. They let him build the spreadsheet for the process and they don't mind if he wears headphones, so he buys a cheap pair and spends his days zoned out, surrounded by boxes.

Four nights a week, he goes to the bookstore and alternates between running a register and walking the floor, keeping the shelves straightened and helping customers. The register isn't bad, monotonous but straightforward. The work out on the floor is the worst because The Strand gets a lot of tourists and they're even more of a pain in the ass than normal customers—which is saying something because customers are some sort of otherworldly subset of humanity specifically designed to be so stupid and awful it defies all previously held notions of stupid and awful.

It's not all bad, though. When they close at night, someone cranks up music on the intercom, people taking turns choosing the bands each day, and his coworkers sing along while everyone puts the store back in order so the next day's customers can wreck it fresh. It's literally the only time during Bucky's week where sometimes, just sometimes, he manages to forget about...Steve.

"Hey," says one of his coworkers. His name tag identifies him as 'Peanut Butter Parker' and there’s a little cartoon peanut scribbled on the side.

"Uh," says Bucky, trying to remember if he's ever met 'Peanut Butter' and if he's been told his actual name yet. After nearly two weeks here, he really should know who people are, probably. "What?"

Parker huffs a laugh. "I said 'hey'. You're not very good at paying attention, huh?"

Bucky's cheeks burn and he shrugs. "It's not—I mean, I can, when I need to. I just… Ugh, sorry. Can I help with something?"

"Nah," says Parker. "Just wanted to say hey. You don't talk much, so I've been elected to determine if you're a secret serial killer, maybe a MAGA white boy with a grudge 'cause some girl you had a crush on beat you at Mario Kart, or something. I mean I think you're hella gay, but what do I know?"

Bucky gives a startled laugh and something approaching a smile finds its way onto his face. "Um, yeah, can report that I am hella gay. Also not a serial killer and definitely did not vote for Donald Trump."

"Nice," says Parker. "So...follow up question: what's your deal?"

"No deal." Bucky shrugs. "Just...trying to pay bills and keep my head down."

"Okay, but no one gets hired here without knowing someone, and no one here knows you." Parker points his thumb over his shoulder. "Which is fine. I mean, I'm not trying to kick you out! I'm just curious."

Bucky fidgets, shelving a stack of Diana Gabaldon books on the Outlander endcap he’s filling up to give himself time to think. "My sister is friends with someone who worked here for like 7 years all through undergrad and grad school, and she asked her to put in a good word for me. I interviewed with Paula?"

"Ohhhhh," says Parker. "Okay, it makes so much more sense why we hadn't heard any gossip about you."

Bucky lifts an eyebrow.

"’Cause she went on maternity leave right after you were hired? You did at least notice she was about to pop, right?"

"Oh, right!" Bucky can feel his cheeks heating up again. "Right, I just...I guess I didn't put two and two together. I thought maybe she just usually worked during the day when I'm not here."

"Nah, and all the other managers are like, 'who cares what his deal is, he shows up on time,' and it's like, wow. There are many more important qualities for an employee than if they show up for work!" Parker seems very convinced of that statement and Bucky is very confused.

"Uh, like what?"

"Well, for one thing, you’re not some weirdo right-wing nutjob," he says, ticking off a finger. "For another," he continues, holding up a second, "we definitely gotta figure out what kind of music you like. Are you gonna come in here and try to play 60 straight minutes of Kid Rock and Nickelback on your night to pick the tunes? We can't have that kind of bad energy here, okay. We just can't."

"I think Carly Rae Jepsen bops?" he tries cautiously.

"Hell yeah she does." Parker holds out his hand for a high five.

Bucky gives one, still feeling a little thrown by this entire conversation. "So...I passed?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sure. Hey, we're gonna grab some pizza after this, you wanna go?"

"Um, yeah, okay," he agrees 'cause he is hungry and...maybe he can do things like grab pizza with coworkers. Maybe he can extend today's reprieve from thinking about Steve just one more hour.

"Nice, by the way, I'm Peter," he says, and then points over at the other, much younger guy counting out the tills. "That's Miles." He gestures towards the girl with the gayest haircut Bucky's ever seen. "And that's Gwen."

Theoretically, Bucky knew all that already, but he definitely hadn't retained it and he's grateful Peanut Butter…Peter is telling him again. "Awesome. Nice to meet you, uh, again."

Peter rolls his eyes and pats Bucky on the shoulder. "Sure. Hurry up. I'm starving and we can't go until we're done." He turns away and starts shouting across the room at Miles. "Hey, turn the music up!"

Bucky lets out a breath of relief to not be the focus of anyone’s attention anymore, returning to the task at hand. The rest of the hour passes quickly and by 11:30 they're headed down the road to the closest pizza place, the four of them piling into a booth and ordering a pitcher of beer and a pie.

"So," says Gwen as she finishes pouring everyone a cup of PBR. "We have been reliably informed that you are Gay As Hell, into Carly Rae, and Not a Dickbag. What else you got for us, James?"

"Oh, well, uh," he starts, wrinkling his nose as he takes a sip of the godawful beer. "For starters, I usually go by Bucky, not James."

"Bucky, nice," says Miles, nodding along. "Nickname or…?"

"Nickname based on my middle name," he confirms. "Buchanan."

Gwen snorts. "Wait, James Buchanan, like the 15th President?"

"How do you even know that?" wonders Peter.

"I paid attention in history class," Gwen says smartly.

"Can't relate," mutters Peter.

Bucky just nods. "Yeah, I guess. I...don't really know? Uh, my parents died when I was four." He shrugs, trying to keep it casual. "So I never asked or I don't remember if they told me."

"Oh dude, that sucks. I'm sorry," says Peter genuinely. "Same, though, so I know how it goes. My aunt and uncle raised me."

Bucky swallows, caught off-guard by the unexpected emotions. "Uh, it was the system for me. But I've got a twin. She's amazing." He decides against revealing the whole "long-lost" part right away.

"She's the one with the friend who helped you get a job at the store?" asks Peter, easily guiding the topic away from dead parents.

"Yeah, her name's Becca. Though...I'm not actually sure which friend she asked the favor from," he admits. "I guess I should ask so I can thank them."

"Whoever the friend is, gotta be a good one to recommend you to Paula sight unseen," says Miles. "You could have been a serial killer!"

"Or worse, a Republican." Gwen looks grim before she cracks up. "So you a student by day? We all go to NYU. Me and Miles are in undergrad. Peanut Butter over there is in grad school."

"I'm going to apply to start next January. Missed the deadline for fall," he says, shrugging. "What are you guys studying there?"

Gwen tips her chin up. "Chem major."

"Computer science and mathematics," says Miles.

Peter raises his hand. "Got my undergrad in engineering. Getting my masters in education. I TA on top of the glamorous occupation of Strand employee."

"Did you guys know each other before the bookstore?" They seem like a really tight-knit crew. Bucky's kind of surprised they invited him, the new guy.

"Gwen and I went to prep school together," says Miles. "And she got in at the bookstore first through a friend she made at the LGBTQ student org, then dragged me in."

Peter slurps his drink. "Random, my aunt worked here in the 70s? So. Yeah, here I am. Clicked with these nerds 'cause they look to me for guidance as their wise, older friend."

Gwen and Miles immediately boo and Gwen throws a wadded up napkin at Peter's face. Peter cracks up, ducking as he takes another sip of his beer. The pizza shows up soon after, hot and steaming and perfect. There's a small ache in Bucky's chest because pizza feels like a Bucky & Steve thing suddenly, but that's stupid. He ate pizza before Steve.

He shakes off the feeling and digs in.

Gwen gets up to go to the bathroom as they're polishing off the last of the beer and when she comes back her face is horrified.

"I dropped my phone in the toilet!" she wails, holding up a paper-towel-wrapped phone. "I didn't even want to touch it but I couldn't just leave it in there."

"Clean water or dirty?" Miles asks solemnly.

"Dirty," she groans. "And not just any dirty. It fell out of my pocket when I first walked in there and the person before hadn't flushed!"

"Nooooo," they all groan in unison.

"Oh god, that's fucked." Peter shakes his head.

"There is no way I can afford a new one. I don't know what I'm gonna do!" Gwen stares down at the contaminated device, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Oh hey," says Miles, snapping his fingers. "Did you hear about Hammer Industries?"

Gwen looks exasperated. "What? No! Why would I have heard about that and why do I care?"

"Well, I'll tell you if you let me!" Miles sighs, rolling his eyes. "They're going out of business. The tech world is totally buzzing about it. Hostile takeover by Stark Industries."

Bucky's attention snaps from the phone clutched in Gwen's hand to Miles's face. "Stark bought out Hammer?"

"Yeah, wild right? You follow tech stuff? I love all that. I want to work at Stark Industries when I graduate," says Miles. "All of Hammer's existing contracts, developers, suppliers...all gonna be Stark's now. They're not even doing a Stark and Hammer team up. Stripping the Hammer name off everything."

Bucky's head is spinning.

Gwen sighs. "What's this got to do with my phone again? You were saying…?"

"Oh right! Sorry, yeah, so all Hammer tech is super on sale now because they're not offering warranties on any of it anymore. I mean, it's shitty stuff, but...it's not a toilet phone. It'll get you through."

Bucky sits back as they continue to discuss the phone, but he can't really participate. He feels sick, worried about Steve. Is he getting enough sleep? Is he overworking himself again like he used to before Bucky? Does he remember to eat? If Steve didn't eat with Bucky (and the occasional business lunch), he usually didn't eat at all.

No. That's not Bucky's job anymore. It's not. It doesn't matter.

Somehow, he makes the right sounds, gets through the rest of the evening, splitting the bill with everyone and heading back to his apartment. He's glad he went with them, but he's also glad when he can curl up on his mattress and finally let himself cry.

Almost three weeks after he left Steve, Bucky's at Becca's place, using her laptop because he's waiting for the one he wants to buy to go on sale, when he stumbles across the story about Steve and Peggy.

He's supposed to be signing up for his SAT, but he finished that half an hour ago. Now, he's on Twitter while Becca gets ready for a night out; Bucky doesn't really use his account for anything but keeping track of trending memes, but it always gives him suspiciously location-relevant headlines.

He swipes through the trending stories for New York and sees the words "INTERCONTINENTAL BREAKFAST: Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter Reconcile?"

Bucky sucks in a startled breath and taps to open it, knowing exactly how bad of an idea it is and doing it anyway. He's immediately greeted by a photo of Steve and a stunningly beautiful woman with dark hair and red lipstick sitting on a restaurant patio together, eating breakfast.

Steve is smiling.

Good, thinks Bucky faintly. That's good. He's with someone that can give him the kind of thing he wants. Steve deserves to be happy. Bucky's glad the turmoil at work hasn't affected him—

Or at least someone else is looking out for him now.

He was right to leave. Steve just wanted to be in love. He was misplacing all his feelings over his ended marriage on Bucky.

God, it's a relief. It makes sense, doesn't it? Because he could never, ever wrap his head around the idea that Steve loved him. This is why it never felt right. Steve wasn't ever supposed to give him all of that.

Becca walks out of her room and stops short when she sees him. "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing. Nothing is wrong. Why do you always assume something is wrong?" He exits the window and signs out of Twitter.

"Nothing, I just...you looked upset. What were you reading?"

"It was just an article about an orphan wolf who got adopted by a family of golden retrievers. It was cute," he lies. Well. He did watch that YouTube video earlier.

"Okay, um, so I have dinner plans tonight. I can try to move them if—"

"No, no! I just wanted to sign up for the next SAT session and I couldn't get the website to load on my phone. It's fine. I've got plans tonight too."

"You do?" Becca looks skeptical.

Bucky sets his jaw. "Yes. I do. I'm going out."

"With who?"

"What is this? An interrogation? I'm going out. I'm an adult. I didn't ask who your plans were with!"

"That's because you don't want to know," she snaps. "God, I get it okay. You've been in a funk since you left Steve, but if you could just not be a moody asshole for five seconds—"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be so moody, what with my entire life being turned upside down. How dare I!" he snaps, closing the laptop and standing. "I'll try to be more cheerful for your sake."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. You've been kind of a dick to me and all I've tried to do is support you and help you!"

"No, all you've tried to do is look sorry for me and make it obvious you think I'm fucking up my life!"

Hurt flashes over Becca's face. She draws herself up, hugging herself. "I just think—"

"I know what you think," interrupts Bucky. "And I don't want to hear it again. You think I should have taken advantage of the contract, blah blah blah."

"Actually, if you want to know the truth, I think you love him and you're just too scared—"

"Oh, here we go! Here's the truth. You think I'm fucked up because I'm an orphan. You think you know better than me because you grew up with a mommy and daddy and I'm just some pathetic—"

"Bucky," cries Becca, her cheeks red, her voice gone unusually high-pitched, probably from trying to keep herself from crying. "Stop. You don't have to lash out. I'm on your side."

"Whatever," says Bucky, grabbing his jacket. He's an asshole. He knows he is and Becca doesn't deserve this, but she's the only one he knows will love him no matter what. God, he is such a fucking asshole. "I'm out of here, okay? I'm going out. Enjoy your dinner plans."

"Fine!" snaps Becca. "Go work this douchiness out of your system!"

Bucky flips her off as he leaves. God knows he loves Becca, is grateful to her, but she's been in his face for weeks. He doesn't need to be coddled like this. He knows what he's doing, what he wants.

And right now, he wants to go out.

He knows, now, that Steve has moved on. Steve is going to be fine, which means that Bucky can stop worrying about him. Bucky needs to get back to his life.

Briefly, he considers texting Peter, Gwen, and Miles to see if they're doing anything. They've gone to pizza or drinks after work twice more since the first time, but...they're not really close enough for Bucky to invite himself along to whatever they've got going on. Besides, Bucky can't put any of what he's feeling right now on them. He doesn't want them running for the hills.

His roommates definitely aren't an option. He's barely even seen most of them, either on different work schedules or just plain out—he's never asked. Either way, he thinks he'll go out of his skin if he spends tonight like he has most nights: alone, in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out why walking away from Steve is the hardest thing he's ever done.

Before he met Steve, he'd go out to clubs and get guys to buy him drinks. He can do that again.

Bucky goes back to his place, takes a shower, and puts on his most club appropriate outfit. He doesn't have nearly the same breadth of wardrobe as he did when he lived with Steve, but he's been out shopping a couple of times with Becca, digging through sale racks and thrift stores. Some skinny black jeans, a v-neck t-shirt, and a cracked leather jacket is exactly the kind of look he needs.

He glances in the mirror and can't help but notice that he needs a haircut and he has a weird moment of missing the girls at the salon. He saw them twice a month and he hopes they don't think he just decided to go to someone else. Pushing his hair into place again, he sighs and then grabs his keys, phone, and wallet and heads out. He's not thinking about some stupid fairytale he lived for four months. He's back in the real world now.

Which is apparent when he gets to the club and finds himself standing in line the full 45 minutes it takes before he makes it through the doors and into the overheated, crowded space. Fuck, he needs a drink.

He pushes his way to the bar, scanning it quickly. He sees a few likely suspects, overly polished hair, expensive looking clothes, and most importantly: alone. He slinks over, letting himself fall back into this routine. This is what he wants. This is what he's good at. He's a pretty face, a cute ass, and he’s good at getting attention.

It’s like riding a bike. He leans against the polished bar, cocks his hip to the side, and watches the dancefloor for a moment. It takes all of five minutes before someone slides into the spot next to him. "Well, if it isn't the uptight little twink."

Bucky forces himself not to flinch. He knows that voice. He looks over and gives him the briefest smile. "Brock. You always did have a way with words."

Brock nods, giving Bucky a smug look down his nose. "Haven't seen you around lately."

"Busy," Bucky says shortly. He'll tolerate Brock if he buys him a drink, but if he's just going to antagonize him, he'd rather he move on so Bucky can hook someone else. "You gonna buy me a drink, or just smirk at me?"

"Depends," says Brock, stepping into Bucky's space. He doesn't touch him, but he cages him in with an arm on the bar. "You still got a stick up your ass, or are you up for some fun?"

"Buy me a drink and find out," insists Bucky, tipping his chin up defiantly. "I'm not gonna make it easy for you."

Brock locks eyes with the bartender and nods, and Bucky turns his head, baring the line of his throat to Brock as he gives his order. Okay. So he's definitely still got it. Good. Brock isn't exactly who he pictured himself meeting tonight, but he can work with this. Warm up a little. Brock has a bit of a bad vibe, but he's handsome, in an angular sort of way. Bucky takes the glass the bartender pushes across to him and knocks it back.

"Get dumped by your hotshot boyfriend, is that it?" Brock asks, snide.

"Not your business," Bucky says shortly. God, there are countless possible pick ups that could have approached him. Just his luck. "Especially if you're looking to get your dick sucked. What's it matter where I've been? I'm here now."

"Yeah, here to accept drinks and then bail," snorts Brock. "I know what you're like. You talk big, Barnes. But you never put out."

"Just because I’ve never put out for you doesn’t mean I never put out, Brock. Maybe I just haven't felt inspired by your particular...approach."

"My approach, huh?" scoffs Brock. "And I suppose a little princess like you thinks they deserve a lot of sweet talk, huh? Gotta be warmed up, romanced before you’ll open up like you really want."

"Nobody said anything about romance. Maybe try being a little less hostile and a little more generous, instead." Bucky shakes his glass pointedly with a sharp smirk. This is who he is, after all, isn't it?

Goods for services.

Brock leers at him, leaning in closer. He nods at the bartender again and another drink slides across the bar to Bucky. "Okay, princess, you want to hear about how pretty your mouth is? About how your hips would look good pinned to my bed?"

Bucky can feel the tickle of Brock’s warm breath on the side of his neck and he wonders if he could do this. Can he get drunk enough that he doesn’t care? Let someone like Brock fuck the memories of Steve out of his head? Maybe it's what he needs to finally get over this last little hurdle, whatever it is that won't let him just forget about Steve fucking Rogers.

He picks up the drink and knocks it back. "That’s a start."

Brock takes that as an invitation, finally closing the distance between them. He presses up against Bucky’s side, his hand going around Bucky’s waist, sweaty and possessive against his stomach to pull him closer.

Bucky tolerates it. If he makes Brock buy him enough drinks, it won't matter. He just needs to not think, and he doesn't know how to do that without...without someone to do it for him. Brock's big enough, burly enough. He knows that Brock wants to fuck him, dominate him a little. Show him his place, probably.

The second drink leads to a third and Bucky feels the heat in his belly, the warmth creeping up the back of his neck. He hasn't really eaten anything in a few hours, so it hits him hard.

It's what he wants.

"I think that sweet mouth of yours would look especially good wrapped around my dick," Brock murmurs in his ear. Bucky shudders. "I think if you finally let me take you home, Barnes, I'll show you exactly what you've been missing."

"Getting warmer," murmurs Bucky, giving Brock a sly grin. He shakes his empty glass. "If you buy me another, I'll dance with you."

Brock does buy him another. By the time they go out onto the dance floor, Bucky is drunk, and he definitely thinks that he can do this. He can go home with Brock and hopefully Brock will drive every last thought out of his head with his dick. Now that Brock is pretty convinced he's going to score, he's getting more handsy, gripping Bucky's hips as he grinds into him in the crush of bodies.

For a little while, it's fine. It's like a great big blank space between Bucky's ears, and he's so drunk that even grinding up on a guy he doesn't really like feels pleasantly fuzzy. And then that great big blank space fills up with the last time he was at a club, and it was Steve he was dancing with and Bucky—

Manages not to throw up all over Brock, somehow. Grabs his hand and drags him off the floor and says, "Change of plan. Take me to your place and fuck me now, okay?"

"Jesus, maybe I should send a thank you card to your ex. Finally loosened you up, huh?" mutters Brock, but he's already pushing Bucky toward the exit, tapping at his phone, presumably ordering a ride.

Bucky lets himself be propelled out into the street, the sounds of the city a nice change from the pounding bass of the club. Brock pulls him close, mouthing at Bucky's jaw and neck. He smells like cheap whisky but Bucky's drunk and it doesn't matter. He's going to go home with Brock and let him do whatever he wants.

It's a shame Brock seems to live on the other side of Manhattan, because the ride takes forever, crawling through traffic as Brock ignores the fact that the driver can see everything and shoves his tongue in Bucky's mouth and takes Bucky by the wrist and presses his palm to Brock's crotch.

Bucky keeps his eyes squeezed shut, his head spinning and his skin crawling.

"Gonna fuck you so good. Really turned out to be an eager little slut, didn't you?" mutters Brock, mouth wet against Bucky's ear. "Just don't forget whose name you're gonna be shouting tonight, begging me for more."

At this point, it doesn't matter if Bucky even participates. Brock is wasted, so he doesn't notice that Bucky isn't doing much more than letting Brock touch and kiss him. Bucky doesn't resist but he doesn't really help, either, and he doesn't respond to Brock's dirty talk.

None of it matters. Brock just wants to conquer him and Bucky is willing to be conquered. They both get what they want.

He does wish he'd asked for another drink, though.

Brock's place is kind of dingy, when they finally get there, Bucky trailing up the stairs after him because Brock mutters that the elevator is broken. The walls are moving a bit, or maybe Bucky is swaying, so at least he's still drunk despite that glacial Lyft. He's here, he's doing it.

The door closes behind him. Brock flicks on the light, illuminating his studio apartment, the covers all rucked up on his unmade bed. Barely five feet from the door.

At least there aren't four roommates. He has a bed frame, too, and an actual mattress, which is an improvement over Bucky's sleeping situation. It's been three weeks since he slept in Steve's arms—

Very abruptly, Bucky can't breathe.

"What's the matter with you?" demands Brock, stripping out of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. "Look like you're gonna be—"

"Fuck," chokes Bucky. There's only one door, so he pushes through it, pawing at the light and then slamming the door and locking it.

"Hey!" shouts Brock. "You puke in there, you better clean it up!"

Bucky ignores him, slumping down to the floor in a shaky huddle. He can't breathe! He can't breathe. His lungs are blocks of cement. He's going to die in here, in Brock Rumlow's shitty apartment, because his lungs just fucking stopped working. Bucky tries to inhale and panics, clutching at his chest, heart hammering against his ribs. His vision blurs, goes spotty.

He's—

Having a panic attack.

Knowing it somehow makes it worse, even more desperate as he fights to breathe, a ragged sob breaking out as he shoves at his pocket to find his phone.

Brock pounds on the door. "Jesus, you're not dying in there are you? Hurry the fuck up."

God, he can't answer him, can't even think about him. His vision swims and he fumbles his phone, desperately trying to unlock it. He needs to be away from here, he needs help. He can't think, he just wants to be away from here, he wants to be home, he wants to be with Steve, safe and cared for and...loved.

He sobs again and his phone lights up, a calm soothing voice coming out of the speakers.

"Mr. Barnes, your vital signs seem to indicate you are in distress. Is everything okay?"

"J-JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir. This is a specially equipped Stark phone. Do you need my assistance?"

"I want to leave. I-I made a mistake. I n-need my sister."

God. Could he have been talking to JARVIS this whole time? He knows JARVIS isn't a real person, but Bucky has really missed him, too.

"Of course, Mr. Barnes. I will place a call to her phone for you. Do you give me permission to release your current location?"

"Y-yes," gasps Bucky, nodding frantically. He clutches his phone and waits.

"Your sister is on her way, Mr. Barnes. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Don't t-tell Steve," Bucky wheezes.

"Of course not, Mr. Barnes. Privacy protocols are still in place."

"Thank you." Bucky thumps his head back against the door. "Thank you."

"It is, as always, my pleasure, Mr. Barnes."

"Bye," whispers Bucky. He buries his face in his knees and spends the next ten minutes relearning how to breathe and ignoring Brock, who pounds on the bathroom door in fits and spurts but thankfully doesn't try to break it down, even though he probably could. Eventually, he hears loud knocking from elsewhere in the apartment and his heart leaps into his throat.

"What the fuck is this now," Brock complains loudly. The front door opens.

"Where the fuck is my brother, you greasy son of a bitch?"

Becca.

Bucky scrambles to his feet with the wall for help, fumbling the lock on the door and swinging it open to find that Becca has stalked into the apartment and cornered Brock. She's a good five inches taller than him in her heels, and she's wearing a cocktail dress, backed up by...

Natasha.

Becca spins as soon as she hears him exit the bathroom, saving him from figuring out what to say. She runs to him, throwing her arms around him. "Bucky!"

Bucky clings back, burying his face against her shoulder and clinging desperately, too overwhelmed to speak.

"Jesus, take the freak and just get the FUCK OUT of my apartment!" yells Brock, looking visibly shaken.

"Don't you ever even look at my brother again, you piece of shit," snarls Becca over her shoulder.

For once in his life, Brock seems to sense he needs to shut the fuck up, and he says nothing as she leads Bucky out of the apartment with Natasha standing calmly at the door, holding it open for both of them.

Bucky can't think about what it means that Natasha is here or the fact that no matter what JARVIS said, Steve will know now. Steve will know that Bucky went home with someone else, and Bucky doesn't know why that feels so bad or makes this whole evening worse. Steve's back with his ex-wife; Steve doesn't care about him anymore.

Natasha doesn't say anything about it though, just slams the door behind them and follows Becca and Bucky down the stairs and out of the building. There's a waiting car on the curb, and as soon as he's in the backseat with Becca, the tears come down even faster.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobs. "I was a dick today and I r-ruined your night and I'm sorry!"

"Bucky, shhh, it's okay, you're safe," says Becca, wrapping her arms around him.

Natasha gets in too, sitting opposite them. "Becca, I think it may be easiest to deal with this at my apartment?"

Becca pets his hair and nods. "That's fine, thank you."

Natasha leans up to the partition to address the driver. "Please take us to my address."

This is a Stark Industries car, isn't it. He really hopes it isn't Clint who's driving.

Bucky buries his face in Becca's shoulder and clings to her, shaking, embarrassed and humiliated, and so, so drunk.

"Should we call the police on that asshole?" Becca is murmuring to Natasha. "I don't know what he did, but—"

"No," moans Bucky. "No, he didn't do anything. I promise. I asked him to take me to his place. I just... When I walked in there, I had a panic attack and locked myself in the bathroom. That's all."

Becca seems to lose a bit of the tension in her body, hugging him more softly. "Oh, thank god. I thought maybe he—"

"No," sighs Bucky, shaking his head. "No, I'm just a mess. I'm a fucking mess."

"Hey," says Becca soothingly. "It's okay. You're going through some stuff."

Bucky sniffles, wiping at his eyes and casting a nervous look at Natasha. "I'm sorry I interrupted your date night. Thank you for...for coming to get me."

Natasha gives him a small smile. "It's good to see you, Bucky."

"What were you doing, Buck?" sighs Becca. She rubs her hand up and down his arm. "Why'd you go home with that scumbag?"

"Can we just...not," mumbles Bucky. His cheeks are burning. "It was a mistake. I'm drunk."

Becca takes a breath, quiet for a long while, but then she kisses his cheek. "Okay, Bucky. We don't have to talk about it."

"Thank you," he whispers, tipping his head onto her shoulder and letting himself drift. They make it to Natasha's apartment, a penthouse loft in SoHo, brick and classic and modern at the same time.

Natasha sets her keys down and gestures. "I'll start some tea. Becca can show you to the bathroom if you want to use it."

Bucky ends up taking a shower. He changes into some sweats and a t-shirt that Becca apparently left here last time she was over. Bucky had no idea this had become something outside of vacation. He's not even upset that Becca didn't tell him. Like he's done anything to deserve being told about her life when all he does is yell at her about trying to help with his.

When the scent of the club and Brock's cologne has been scrubbed off his body, his head slightly less foggy, Bucky makes his way to the kitchen where Natasha and Becca are sitting, a cup of tea waiting for him at the empty place. "Um, thanks."

"Of course, Bucky," murmurs Natasha. "I'm going to head to bed. I'll leave you two to chat." She gets up, setting her empty mug in the sink, and then kisses Becca goodnight, disappearing up the stairs.

"So, um, you and Natasha," says Bucky, taking a sip of his tea.

"Yep," says Becca, nodding, almost a little shy. "Me and Natasha."

"I guess...I guess I didn't realize you were...that you were together. You know, like maybe it was..." Bucky trails off, awkward.

"A vacation fling?" asks Becca. She doesn't sound upset, though.

Bucky shrugs.

"That's what I thought it was going to be," admits Becca. "But then she asked me out when we got back, and..." She mirrors Bucky's shrug. "You didn't ask."

"I know," Bucky says quietly. "I didn't. I'm sorry. I've been really self-centered."

"Bucky." Becca's voice is soft. "I know you've been trying to deal with this yourself. That you think you can just...move on. Is that what you were trying to do tonight?"

"I guess so." Bucky takes a sip of his tea. He keeps looking at the table instead of Becca's face. "I just wanted to stop thinking. I wanted... I wanted to get out of my head."

"You miss Steve."

Bucky's eyes well up immediately "Yeah," he whispers, voice cracking. "But it doesn't matter. He already moved on. And I can't go back, I'm the one that called it off. It's my fault."

"What do you mean he already moved on?" murmurs Becca. "How do you—"

"It wasn't a story about a wolf cub," he sighs, cheeks warm with the admission, but he's tired and he doesn't feel like hiding anything from Becca anymore. "Today, when you came home. I was on Twitter and I ran across some dumb promoted story. He's back with his ex-wife, who is perfect by the way. You should see her. She looks like some sort of queen."

"I don't...know if you should buy what those gossip articles say," says Becca. "I'm not sure that's true."

Bucky finally looks up, shrugging. "Why not? They were right about Steve's feelings for me. I guess for as long as that was worth."

"Oh my god, would you listen to yourself? They can't have it both ways. He can't have been in love with you three weeks ago and back with his ex-wife now."

"God, I don't know! It was probably misplaced feelings or something. Don't do this, Becca. I'm telling you he's over it, okay. He's moved on and now I have to move on because I'm never getting him back and it's too late," he says, his voice breaking as tears well up again.

Because it is too late, and he won't be getting Steve back, and he knows now that's what he wants.

Bucky wants Steve to hold him tight and tell him he's sweet and watch dumb documentaries on Netflix with him and make him waffles and order his favorite pizza and...

And be in a relationship with him.

He wants Steve to love him again because he loves Steve. God, he loves him with such a horrible, sudden, absolute clarity that he feels lightheaded by the realization.

Because he does get what love is, and he was already there; it's being with someone, every day, and wanting to do everything in your power to make them happy, to take care of them, to keep them from being lonely or sad or scared.

Bucky loves Steve, and it's too late.

"Oh, Bucky," whispers Becca, because he's crying again, soundlessly, tears streaming down his face as his chest locks up with the heavy weight of his fuck up.

He covers his face with his hands, elbows on the table, and shakes his head. It's over. He ended it too early and now that he finally knows, for sure, how he feels, it's too late.

Becca's chair scrapes the floor and a second later, she's wrapping him up in her arms, letting him sob into her chest again.

"You should talk to him," she says softly. "You should call him, talk to him, and I'm sure it won't be so dire."

"I can't," he sobs. "I can't, not after what I did. You didn't see his face, Becks, you didn't leave him standing there..."

Becca holds him, letting Bucky cry himself out. She gets Bucky some tissues and cleans up their mugs. "You should get some sleep," she urges. "Have some water first. You'll feel better tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbles. He's exhausted. "You're right."

"Come on. I'll show you to the guest bedroom."

When he's curled up in bed, door closed, Bucky pulls the second pillow into his arms and buries his face in it, drifting off wishing it was Steve he was curled up against.

Chapter Text

——BUCKY——

In the morning, Bucky wakes up with a headache and a full bladder. He creeps out of the guest room, washing his face, hunting out some Advil, and gulping down water directly from the tap. When he emerges, he wanders curiously into the kitchen to find Natasha cracking eggs into a metal bowl.

She looks... different. Soft, wearing yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair rumpled from sleep. Bucky has never seen her look anything less than immaculate.

"Um," says Bucky hesitantly. "Hey. I can... I'll just go back to..."

"Sit," says Natasha, cocking her head at the bar. "Grab a stool. There's coffee."

Bucky obediently grabs a mug, pouring himself a cup before he sits down. He warms his hands on it, watching Natasha through his lashes.

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah, um. A little hungover," admits Bucky. "Thanks for... Thanks again."

"Yeah, well, even if you weren't Becca's brother, I'd still have helped you, Bucky," says Natasha.

"Because of Steve?" he asks softly.

"Well, I guess in the way that I know you because of Steve," she allows. "But no, it’s because I like you and I think you're a good person, Bucky."

"Oh," he says, feeling a little dumb. "I thought maybe you'd—"

"Hate you?" asks Natasha, picking up a whisk and beating the eggs briskly.

"Um, yeah."

"Mmm, no. Steve made a lot of mistakes with you, not least of which was being unable to communicate anything you needed to know from the beginning," she says, pouring out the fluffy mixture into a sizzling pan. "You like scrambled eggs, right?"

"What? Oh, uh, yeah," he says on delay. He takes a drink of his coffee, and then says quietly, "I made mistakes, too."

"Well, yes. That's bound to happen in any relationship, Bucky. You're both human." She moves the spatula around the pan, keeping the eggs from burning. "It's how you handle the mistakes that matter."

Bucky's throat feels tight. "I, uh, don't think it matters anymore. Even if you don't hate me, I'm sure he does, if he cares at all now."

Natasha lifts an eyebrow at him and then turns and starts portioning out eggs on plates. "Well, it sounds like you have it all figured out. Here I thought he kept all the stupid with him."

Bucky's cheeks immediately flush with heat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Natasha huffs, grabbing bread and sliding it into the toaster. "You're making a lot of assumptions."

"I'm basing my assumptions on facts," he says defensively. "Steve let me leave. He hasn't once tried to call me or contact me. He didn't even complain when I refused to take advantage of all the stuff I was supposed to get when I broke off the contract. What else am I supposed to think? He's fine with it."

"Sure," says Natasha. "You told him you were leaving, so he let you leave. He respected your wishes and your autonomy. You told him it was over, so he didn't harass you with unwanted contact. You refused his money, so he didn't, I don't know, force it on you, somehow. Is that what you mean?"

Bucky's face is hot and his eyes are burning. "Well... I saw him with Peggy..."

"You two really are made for each other," mutters Natasha. "You like avocado?"

"Um," says Bucky, a little thrown. "Yeah. What does that mean? What do you mean?"

"It means you should talk to him," says Natasha. "But only if you want to. Because it sounds like this is still unresolved for you; you have questions and are finding it difficult to move on."

"You think he'd want to talk to me?" Bucky asks hesitantly.

"Bucky, I don't want to say anything here that will...put words in Steve's mouth or make any decisions for him, but...I do know that if you call him, he'll answer. It's up to you. When it came down to the future of your…" Natasha waves her hand. "...arrangement, your relationship, he made sure to leave the terms of it up to you."

"I miss him so much," whispers Bucky, the admission slipping guiltily from his lips. It doesn't feel like he has a right to miss Steve. He's the one who walked away. Fuck, will he ever stop crying? He wipes at his eyes, miserable. "But I really hurt him. I just... I didn't know until I didn't have him how much I wanted him in my life. How bad it would feel. I didn't know he was any different than anyone else I'd ever had to leave behind."

So many foster parents, friends at different schools, different homes. Bucky's gotten so good over the years at protecting himself, walling himself off from possibility so he wouldn't be disappointed when it disappeared.

"I think he understands that," sighs Natasha. She pauses a moment, and then says, "He kept the dog, you know."

Bucky didn't forget, exactly, but he did sort of assume Steve would maybe give her back to Angela or something. "He did?"

"Yeah. She's the only thing that's really been getting him out of the house. He didn't name her, though. I call her DD."

"DeeDee?"

"Yes, but a double D. Depression Dog."

"She's...the only thing getting him out of the house?" he repeats numbly.

"That, and work, sometimes, but he's been working from home a lot. It's been fine, everyone understands. He never took time after his divorce, but... Well, anyway. I'm glad he kept DD." She turns and opens up the fridge, getting out juice and a bowl of fruit, setting them both down next to Bucky before she picks up her own plate and starts eating.

Bucky stares down at his breakfast, feeling a little dizzy. Something occurs to him then, and he looks up at her. "Did JARVIS contact you? I asked him when I left. Well, to...look out for Steve, let a friend know if he needed something."

She lets out a surprised laugh. "Yeah, he did say you'd invited me over. Didn't figure out until I got there that you were gone."

Bucky nods to himself and picks up his fork, taking a bite because it seems like the polite thing to do. His head is spinning, though, running through everything Natasha said this morning, everything Becca said last night. Can he really do this? Can he just...call Steve again? God, he wants to more than anything, but he's scared.

He's scared he hurt Steve too much. He's scared Steve won't want to try again. He's scared that even if Steve says yes, Bucky will never be good enough.

He makes it through half his eggs mechanically before Becca shows up, eyes barely open as she shuffles toward the coffee pot. She doesn't even acknowledge either of them. It's possible Becca is worse in the morning than even Bucky. Natasha chuckles fondly and Bucky ducks his head, finishing his own coffee, feeling horribly jealous in an unexpected way. He wants it back, wants to be in Steve's kitchen with his warm kisses pressed to his temple as he finishes his coffee first thing in the morning.

"Um," he says, putting down his fork. "I need to...can I borrow your guest room a while longer?"

Becca blinks at him, but Natasha nods. "Of course, Bucky. Take all the time you need."

Bucky stumbles down from the stool and hurries back to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Before he can second guess himself another time, he opens his phone and calls Steve.

Sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, Bucky clutches the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. What if Steve doesn't pick up? What if he sees Bucky's name and ignores it? Bucky's too late, he waited too long, he didn't realize soon enough—

Steve's voice, when he finally picks up, is raw with shock. "Bucky?"

"Steve," Bucky whispers, his throat immediately tight with tears. God, he's already crying. Of-fucking-course. He missed Steve's voice so much. "Oh, god, Steve."

"Bucky?" Steve's voice warms instantly with genuine concern. "Bucky, what's wrong, are you okay? Where are you? Are you hurt?"

"No," Bucky says. "I'm fine, I'm...I'm at Natasha's. With Becca. I'm... I wanna talk, can we talk? Can we just...meet up and talk? Please." He sniffles, wiping at his eyes.

There's ringing silence in response to his plea and Bucky starts to get anxious.

"Yeah," breathes Steve after a torturous pause. Bucky almost sobs with relief. "Yeah, Bucky, we can talk. Where do you want me to meet you? When?"

Bucky didn't really think this over. It can't be at Steve's; he doesn't think he can handle having to walk away again if this all goes wrong (when, the voice in his head whispers, when it all goes wrong). He's definitely not inviting Steve to his own very crowded place. Somewhere public would probably make sense, but it needs to be somewhere fairly cheap.

"Remember that diner? By your work, where we ran into each other that one time?"

"Yeah," says Steve. "Yeah, of course. When?"

"I'm free all day today if you are," mumbles Bucky.

"I'm free. What time?" he asks softly.

"Um, in...in an hour? No, wait, I...I have to go home and change first. Two hours? Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I can do that," agrees Steve, voice warm. "10 o'clock."

Bucky wipes tears from his cheek. "Thank you."

"Course, Bucky. I'll see you there." It sounds like a goodbye, but Steve doesn't hang up, just stays there, listening to Bucky.

Bucky sucks in a shaky breath and whispers, "Okay, bye, Steve."

"Bye, Bucky," he replies, and finally the line goes silent.

Bucky sits there, staring at the dark cellphone screen, nervous and excited and terrified. He's going to see Steve again.

He's not sure how long he's been sitting there when there's a knock on the door, and after a brief pause, Becca pushes it open. "Bucky? Are you okay?"

Bucky nods, then looks up and very quickly switches to shaking his head. "No, I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know how to do this at all!"

Becca steps more fully into the room and sits next to him. "Do what?"

"I called Steve. I'm meeting him in two hours." When he says it like that, it practically sounds normal, reasonable.

"Oh, wow," says Becca. "That's good though, right? You'll get to talk to him, clear the air."

Bucky's stomach flips. "What if what we make clear is that he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore?"

"I think he probably could have told you that over the phone," says Becca. "And I think...you owe it to yourself to go no matter what. And...maybe you even owe it to him."

"Yeah," says Bucky, nodding. He wipes at his eyes again, which just won't stop leaking. He's going to see Steve, and they're going to talk, and Becca is right: if Steve didn't want anything to do with him, he wouldn't bother with seeing him in person, right? He'd just say...it's over, goodbye.

"It's good, Buck," says Becca, taking his hand and squeezing it. "This is good. I'm really proud of you for reaching out."

"The second I heard his voice I started crying," he laughs weakly. "God, I'm such a baby."

"Yeah," says Becca fondly, kissing his hair. "But I love you. Do you wanna hang out here until then?"

"Oh, god, no, I can't do that," says Bucky, shaking his head. "I won't keep crashing your date. I need to go home, get changed out of your pajamas and into something that doesn't smell like a club. Finish freaking out, you know?"

Becca chuckles. "Sounds good. Come on."

Back in the kitchen, Bucky finishes his coffee, thanks Natasha for letting him stay over, and gives Becca a hug goodbye. "I'll text you later," Bucky says quietly. "And let you know how it goes."

"Good luck," says Becca, squeezing him tightly. "I have a really good feeling about this."

"Glad one of us does," Bucky mumbles.

"Don't be so dramatic."

For the first time in weeks, Bucky feels like maybe, something good could happen today.

He isn't just dragging himself through the motions. He heads home, glad for the shower he took last night when he glances at the clock. He doesn't have a ton of time. He gets changed into his nice jeans and a blue sweater and heads out for the diner, relieved when he gets there and finds that he's first. He picks a booth towards the back, where he can keep an eye on the door, and orders a coffee.

Just before ten, the door opens and Steve walks in. Bucky freezes, gaping a little; just the sight of him takes root in the center of Bucky's chest, unfurling warm inside him. Steve's dressed down in dark jeans and a grey button-up, rolled up to his forearms, a jacket draped over his elbow. His beard is neatly trimmed, his slicked back hair just a little longer, curling around his ears and at the nape of his neck. When he scans the diner and spots Bucky, it's like an electric shock as their eyes meet.

Bucky lifts up a hand and waves, completely unnecessarily.

Steve gives him a small smile, expression carefully neutral as he crosses the restaurant and slides into the booth across from him. "Hey, Bucky," he says softly.

"Steve," breathes Bucky. "Hi. Hey."

"It's really good to see you," says Steve. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Yeah, of course." His voice is rough, and he clears it, looking down at his coffee as he takes a drink. "I hope I didn't interrupt any plans or anything."

"No," huffs Steve, shaking his head. "Um, did you already order? Or—"

"I haven't. I, um, I don't know if I can eat right now, to be honest. I'm a little nervous," he admits, looking up at Steve. "But you could."

Steve's face is soft and he shakes his head. "No, that's alright. Think I'll just have a coffee too." He gives Bucky another smile and then turns to signal the waiter.

After Steve has his coffee in hand and Bucky's has been freshened up, Bucky almost wishes he had ordered something to eat. At least then it would have been another delay, a distraction.

"So," says Steve eventually. "You...wanted to talk?"

"Yeah—yes, I did. I mean, I do. I—fuck, sorry," he mutters, tears springing to his eyes as soon as he starts to think about everything he wants to say, everything he's so scared he's about to lose for good, no second chances. He blinks quickly, holding back the waterworks. He's going to take the chance this time. He's going to say what he wants. "Um, god...Steve, I really miss you."

"Oh," says Steve, his expression shifting, but Bucky can't read it, not exactly. He looks curious, but there's none of the excitement Bucky hoped for, the instant acceptance and forgiveness. "I miss you, too."

Why does this have to be so hard? He hasn't felt so wrong-footed around Steve since the first couple of days after Bucky moved in with him. He hates it, hates how awkward and anxious and sick he feels, hates the uncertainty of it all.

"Sorry," mumbles Bucky, huffing out a nervous laugh as he rubs at his eyes. "Spoiler alert, I still cry all the time."

"Bucky," Steve says gently. "Whatever you want to say to me, I'm listening."

Bucky closes his eyes for a second, letting Steve's deep voice wash over him. God, he missed him so much. He just needs to suck it up, say what he has to say, and then...it's up to Steve, whether he's willing to try again, to believe Bucky. He needs to stop being a coward about how he really feels.

He needs to be vulnerable.

By circumstance and awful chance, his life has made him vulnerable again and again, forced it on him and then taught him that to be vulnerable is to be hurt.

Except now, to get what he wants, the only path available to Bucky is through vulnerability, opening himself up to Steve and trusting that Steve won't hurt him.

"I'm sorry," Bucky blurts, opening his eyes. He clutches hard at his coffee cup. "I'm so sorry for walking out on you like that. I hurt you so bad, Steve. I never wanted to hurt you like that. I miss you. I can't stand being alone like this, without you. I can't stand you being alone. I think about you all the time. All the time. I've tried and tried to move on, and I can't, I don't want to. I don't want to."

"Bucky," says Steve, inhaling sharply. Pain flashes over his face, those piercing blue eyes rimmed red. This is it, this is the rejection Bucky's been bracing himself for. Steve can't forgive him. "Bucky, I miss you, too. I do. I've been miserable without you, I..." He sniffles, the tip of his nose turning pink as he holds back tears, too.

He looks just about as wrecked as he did when Bucky walked out.

"I hear a 'but'," says Bucky, wiping at his eyes. He takes a deep, steadying breath. "It's okay. I get it. You can't forgive me."

"No," says Steve. He reaches across the table, hesitantly puts one big hand over Bucky's. "No, I do. I forgive you, Buck. There's nothing to forgive. You had every right to leave, any time. I put too much pressure on you." He breathes in shakily. "But I need to know what you're asking for, here."

More tears fall, splashing down onto the table, and Bucky turns his hand over under Steve's to tangle their fingers together. He just wants to hold on, borrow some of Steve's strength, his bravery. Steve always just goes after what he wants, makes it happen.

Bucky meets his gaze. "When I finally realized that you...that you loved me, I was scared and upset because I thought—I thought if I let you love me, I'd be letting you hurt yourself. 'Cause I'm damaged goods, y'know?"

"Bucky—"

"No, I need to finish, please?"

Steve's mouth clicks shut and he nods slowly.

"I didn't think I knew how to love you back. I thought you'd changed all the rules and gone off script and I didn't know how to follow your lead anymore." He reaches for a napkin and wipes his eyes. "I didn't know how to open myself up to the possibility of having something that big, that good. I grew up thinking that kind of thing wasn't for me, wiped the possibility from my head so I couldn't even hope for it anymore."

Steve squeezes his hand and Bucky gives him a shaky, grateful smile. "Thanks," he mutters, taking another deep breath to continue, to finally say what he came here to say, to confess.

He needs to repent, to beg forgiveness for his sins and trust in Steve's mercy, like a wayward disciple who finally understands the meaning of faith.

"After I walked away," says Bucky, voice barely above a whisper. "Becca asked me—she said, 'Are you sure you don't love him back?' The question didn't even make sense to me and I couldn't figure out why. 'What kind of question is that?' I asked. But now I think… I think it's because I knew, deep down, that I did. I just—" He shrugs helplessly. "I didn't know how to even think it, let alone say it. I didn't know that's what I was feeling every time I felt happy when you were happy, every time I wanted to make you proud, every time I wanted to make sure you didn't spend all weekend thinking about work, or every time you woke me up with a kiss or you talked too long about something you heard on NPR or put on your reading glasses only when you thought I didn't see so I wouldn't tease you about being old."

Steve's own tears have spilled over and he wipes them away too. "Hey, I'm not old."

Bucky lets out a helpless laugh, relief swamping through him as he picks up speed. "I love you so much, Steve," he says, unable to push off the hope filling his chest at Steve's expression. "And all I want is to go home, to be yours, and for you to be mine. I want to show you how much I love you and to be loved by you again."

"Hey, pal," Steve says roughly, his voice breaking a little. "I didn’t stop loving you."

Bucky sobs, nodding, covering his face with his free hand to hide the tears he just can't hold back. "You didn't move on?"

"No, Buck." Steve laughs hollowly. "I didn't move on. I figured I had time to wallow. Wasn't about to get over you any time soon." He licks his lips, gathering Bucky's hand in both of his, pressing his lips to it. "You mean it? Because I want you so bad, baby, I want you in my life more than I want anything in this world, but..." He closes his eyes, steadying himself with a breath. "I know I said it could go back to what it was, that things didn't have to change, but I was lying to myself. I can't take that. I couldn't take it if you were playing along with something you don't want because you miss the...the arrangement."

"No," says Bucky, shaking his head firmly. "Steve, it's the last thing I miss. I miss you. I want to be with you. I want to be in a relationship with you."

"I want that too." Steve wipes at his own tears. "A relationship, Buck. I don't need—I don't want to control every part of it at every moment. I want it to be something we build together."

"Yeah," breathes Bucky, joy filling him up with every heartbeat, with every word Steve says. "And we can talk about what that means; I want to talk about everything with you, but most of all I just need you to know I love you. God, Steve, I love you so much."

"Jesus, I can't stand to hear you say that one more time without being able to kiss you. Can I please?" he asks, voice urgent.

Bucky nods and pushes himself out of the booth, scrambling over to Steve's side. Steve turns to face him and pulls him right in, crushing their lips together, his hand sliding into Bucky's hair, the other hooking around him, holding him close.

Bucky wraps both his arms around Steve's neck and kisses back, puts every ounce of love and feeling he has into it, clinging tightly. The kiss is wet with both their tears, desperate and uncoordinated, but it's perfect, it's so, so perfect, and Bucky never wants it to end. He feels like he could live in this moment forever, all the possibility he thought he'd lost opening up in front of him like a flower blooming in the sunlight after a spring storm.

Someone clears their throat. "Um, gentlemen? I'm sorry, I can see this is an emotional time, but I'm afraid you're making other guests uncomfortable, and I'm—"

They break the kiss and Steve whispers, "You meant it. I can take you home?"

Bucky nods and Steve helps them both to stand up before he digs his wallet out, slaps a bill down on the table. "Pardon us, we were just leaving," he says to the tired looking manager.

Bucky lets himself be guided out of the restaurant, Steve's hand warm and solid on the small of his back again. Clint is waiting in the car when they get to the curb.

"Hey, little buddy," says Clint, when Bucky waves awkwardly to him. "Good to see you."

"Thanks, Clint," says Bucky. "Good to see you, too."

"Home, Cap?"

"Yeah," says Steve, opening the door for Bucky. "Home."

Bucky scoots to his usual spot, heart pounding. Steve follows him, pressing in beside him, and Bucky exhales shakily with relief, practically climbing into Steve's lap to kiss him again, cupping his face, stroking his thumb over Steve's bearded cheek. "I really am sorry," he whispers.

Steve wraps him up in his arms, kissing the tip of Bucky's nose. "None of that. You deserved time to yourself."

"I thought I was too late," Bucky sighs, pressing their foreheads together. "I just want to be yours, Steve. I want to belong to you, I want to give you everything. It's yours, okay? I'm yours."

Steve takes a shuddering breath, cupping Bucky's face. "Okay. Okay, Buck." He kisses him desperately.

"No more contracts, or amendments," Bucky continues urgently. He pushes back, puts his hands on Steve's shoulders, taking in Steve's enraptured expression. "No job. I love you, that's why I want this. Because I wanna give you what you need, as much as you always gave me every single thing I could ever want or need."

"Yeah?" asks Steve, searching Bucky's face, hands heavy on his hips. “And I get to be yours too, right?”

"Yes," Bucky says firmly. "Also, I know we haven’t mentioned the sex and the—the kink stuff, but I still want as much of that as you want, okay? And I want you to boss me around and make me be good for you. Want you to hurt me or make me feel good or humiliate me. I want—"

"Jesus, Buck, okay, yes. I want those things too, okay? I want whatever you want," says Steve, laughing breathlessly. "And if you want more or less, we can work that out, okay?"

Bucky nods and then leans forward and kisses Steve again. "Oh, and I want to keep my job at The Strand."

"You got a job at The Strand?" asks Steve.

"Yes, and since you're not my job, you're my—my um, boyfriend?" he tries, his breath catching. Steve grins at him and nods. "Since you're my boyfriend and not my employer, I want a job."

"That's fine, but I still want to pay for you to go to school, okay? That's still something I want for you, and you deserve it."

Bucky feels his throat go hot with stupid happy tears again, but he pushes through it. "I don't know. I don't want—I mean, I know you always used to say you liked buying things for me, showering me with stuff. I just don't want it to be a replacement for a paycheck."

Steve breathes out slowly, seemingly considering Bucky's words carefully. "I get your concern, but it would mean a lot to me, to be able to do that for you. And I will still want to take care of you financially, even with your job, as much as you'll let me. Not because it's a replacement for the contract, but because I love you and I can and it does make me happy. Is that...something you would be okay with?"

"I think so," admits Bucky. The gifts and the money only ever bothered him at the end, when he thought he didn't love Steve, when he couldn't admit his own feelings, even to himself. "Before, when I, um, when I left, I just didn't want to lead you on. I think if we're on the same page, I'm okay with it. Just so long as you know that I...I don't need all that stuff to love you, okay?"

Steve's answering grin is so bright and beautiful, it makes Bucky's heart trip over itself. "Of course, I…I'm learning that now. This is a relationship, just like you said. It's not a contract and we don't have to do amendments every time something needs to change. We can just talk about it from now on. That's how this will work. So if I ever go overboard in a way you don't like or there are other things that come up, we just...say so. We figure it out together." He pushes forward and kisses Bucky's lips. "Anything else you can think of for now?"

"Um," says Bucky, dizzy with joy and possibility and so much relief he feels like he might float away without Steve holding him tight. "No. I don't know. Can we still do Sundays how we used to?"

"Yeah, honey," says Steve, voice so warm with affection that Bucky's entire body goes soft like hot, pulled taffy. "Of course we can. But I want you to think about how much structure you want, okay? I'm happy to give you whatever you need."

"I like the structure," admits Bucky. "The control. You know how much I like that. We'll figure it out. I don’t want you to feel like you always have to be on for me, though. You don’t always have to be perfect.”

“God, you’re amazing,” breathes Steve. “But I was telling the truth. I can give you whatever structure, ‘cause I’ll know from now on we can just talk about it. I’ll know...you love me. Takes the pressure off—at least the bad kind.”

Bucky leans in and kisses Steve fiercely, panting as he pulls back. “I do love you," he keeps saying it, can't help wanting to again and again. "And I'll think about it, the structure I want, how often. We can talk about it more, I promise."

"Good boy," murmurs Steve. Bucky shudders, burying his face in Steve's shoulder, unexpectedly bowled over by how much he missed those words. "That's my good boy. Missed you."

Bucky just clings, allowing himself to relax into Steve's hold, to be in Steve's arms again, finally.

When they get to the penthouse and step into the entryway, JARVIS says, "Welcome home, Mr. Barnes."

"Hey, JARVIS," says Bucky, smiling widely. "Thanks for having my back."

"My pleasure, sir."

"Your room's how you left it," Steve says softly. "I didn't...I didn't touch anything."

"Thanks," says Bucky, feeling a bit wobbly all over again. Then he looks around expectantly. "Where's DD?"

"Oh, god," mutters Steve. "Not you, too. Been talking to Nat?"

"Just this morning," he admits, fidgeting. "I um, ended up staying the night in her guest room last night. It wasn't planned."

Steve frowns. "I was a little thrown off that you said you were at her place when you called. Was...everything okay?"

Bucky shrugs one shoulder. "It ended up okay. I made a mistake."

"Okay," says Steve, studying him. His expression is careful. "Do you want to talk about that or do you want to put the three weeks we were apart behind us, like they never happened?"

Bucky's stomach churns. He doesn't particularly want to tell Steve about what he did or how stupid he was, but he also doesn't want Steve thinking he wants to hide things from him. And... Bucky still wants to know about that lunch with Peggy. He can't help it.

"Um, can I see the puppy again first and then tell you?" he asks. Maybe it'll be easier once there's a fluffy puppy to distract them both.

"Sure, but we are not naming her DD." Steve leads the way to the oversized laundry room where a crate is set up in the far corner. There's a cover over it now, but Bucky can hear faint whimpering. Steve makes soothing sounds. "It's okay, I'm gonna let you out. Don't worry."

Steve pulls the cover off the crate and inside sits the puppy. She's grown several pounds already, her downy fur fluffy as ever. One ear is trying it's best to stick straight up but the other is folded over, and she's wagging her tail eagerly as Steve bends down to undo the latch. "Okay, sit, girl. Show Bucky how good you can be."

She sits immediately, ears perking up. Bucky's going to die, she's so cute.

"Good girl," praises Steve, opening up the crate. She bounds out immediately, jumping all around his legs excitedly. And then she notices Bucky and immediately starts barking.

"No," Steve says firmly. "Shhh. We don't bark at friends, okay?" He gets down to sit on the floor and gestures for Bucky to do the same.

Bucky sinks down beside Steve a little sadly, waiting for his cue before he does anything. "Guess she wouldn't remember me," he mumbles, tears stinging his eyes a little.

"Hey, now," murmurs Steve. He takes Bucky's hand, tugging it to the puppy's nose, keeping their fingers tangled together.

She's stopped barking, at least, and she immediately snuffles at their joined hands and starts to lick their fingers, tail wagging eagerly again.

"Yeah," says Steve encouragingly. "That's it, good girl. That's Bucky. He lives here too, okay? Buck, the treats are next to you."

Bucky turns his head to the cabinet, opening one of the drawers and digging around inside for a bag of treats. "Ah," he says. "Bribery." He shakes the bag and the puppy starts to bark again, stumbling over Steve's thighs to climb into Bucky's lap.

"Ah, ah, no," Steve says firmly, pulling her paws off Bucky's chest as she tries to climb him. "Sit. Sit."

With a whine, she sits in Bucky's lap, and he makes a choked noise. "Oh god," he wheezes, fumbling to get a treat out and feed it to her. "Good girl. Oh, you're so cute. Oh my god, I'm dying."

Steve chuckles. "See? She'll get used to you in no time."

"I'm sorry I missed almost a whole month of her growing," Bucky mumbles. "I'm... God, Steve. I tried to just...keep going. Some of it was okay. I got that job, at the bookstore, even made some friends there, and I got an apartment. I signed up with a temp agency, too. Trying to stay busy."

"That sounds good," says Steve gently. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me anything else, Bucky."

"No, I...I was also a mess, so...it's embarrassing, you know?" He laughs. "The uptight twink made a comeback. Tried not to be so uptight. Went home with a guy, had a panic attack, locked myself in the bathroom, had to call my sister to pick me up. You know. Typical drama."

"You went home with—this was last night? That's how you ended up at Nat's?" asks Steve, the words quiet, a little strained, but he's trying, that's clear.

"Yeah," he says, shrugging one shoulder. He rubs the puppy’s ears and her tongue lolls happily. "Nothing happened. Didn't even take off our clothes. I was trying to prove something to myself, I guess, and ended up proving the exact opposite. Wanted to believe I could move on like I thought you had."

"Like you thought I had?" prompts Steve. They're both focusing on the dog, petting her, keeping their voices low.

"God, this is so stupid, Steve. I know it is. I just...I saw that stupid headline about you and your ex," he finally admits, turning to look at Steve apologetically.

"Oh god," says Steve, lifting his hand to cover his face for a moment, before he shakes his head and lowers his hand back to DD, petting through her thick fur. "No, Buck, that is not something you ever, ever have to worry about. Peggy and I are over and we have been for a long time, even before the divorce. Seeing her...it was as friends, something I've been hoping she and I could reach again one day."

"Right," says Bucky, indescribably relieved and also so embarrassed. "Of course, I'm...." He laughs, shaking his head. "God, I'm so stupid."

"Bucky, no," soothes Steve. "You're not stupid. Come on, sweetheart."

"I just couldn't," Bucky says quietly. "It just made me feel sick, even dancing with him. All I could think about was you, and..."

"Can I kiss you?" Steve asks softly.

"Please," begs Bucky.

Steve leans in, pressing his lips softly against Bucky's in a gentle, warm kiss. "I'm sorry, Buck."

"Don't apologize for my dumb decisions," Bucky laughs scornfully. "I just wish I could stop fucking crying."

"It's in the past now; you're safe and you're here. That's all that matters to me, and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you're happy here from now on," says Steve, kissing Bucky's temple. "That way the only time you cry is because I'm taking care of you how you like, got it?"

Bucky nods, and the puppy whines, licking his face. Bucky lets out a startled laugh and wipes his face. "Thanks, DD."

"God, that's a lost cause, isn't it?" sighs Steve.

"Yeah. I mean, we could spell it D-E-E-D-E-E if it'll make you feel better."

"Fine, her name is DeeDee."

As if to demonstrate her approval, DeeDee barks.

"Good." Bucky leans his head against Steve's shoulder and feels happier than he thought possible when he woke up this morning. He's home. He's with Steve. Everything is going to be okay now. "I really love you."

"I love you, too, Buck," whispers Steve. "Come on, let's get up and take DeeDee for a walk before she has an accident and then we can order dinner and figure everything else out."

"That sounds good," Bucky sighs happily. "That sounds great. Pizza?"

"Pizza it is," says Steve, kissing him again.

"Shall I order from your usual place, sirs?" asks JARVIS.

Bucky grins. "Yeah, yes, please, JARVIS. Usual order, too, thank you!"

"Certainly, Mr. Barnes. It's my pleasure. I will time it for your return."

Steve quickly shows Bucky how to wrestle DeeDee into her harness and leash. DeeDee clearly already knows where they're headed and dances excitedly at their feet as they head for the elevator. Steve is great with her, and Bucky watches with a mix of amusement and sadness at their routine.

He won't keep beating himself up, though. He wants to be happy, with Steve and DeeDee and their life. Steve says it's okay that it took him longer to get there, and Bucky wants to believe him. It's easier when Steve holds out his hand on the sidewalk and they walk with their fingers laced together toward Central Park with DeeDee at their side.

"Does she go off leash in the park?" asks Bucky, curious.

Steve shakes his head. "No, she's not quite well trained enough for that. You could...come to her puppy classes with me? They just started."

"Oh," says Bucky, smiling at the invitation. "Yeah, that would be nice. When are they?"

"Every Wednesday afternoon."

"I can do that. I usually work four evenings a week at the bookstore," Bucky tells him. "But...I'm going to try to switch some of those to day shifts. I don't want to spend most of our evenings apart."

"I'd be grateful if you were able to make that change, for sure, but I'd understand if you couldn't. I know that place is great." Steve squeezes his hand. "You know, Nat used to work there when she was in college. Someone she met there got her foot in the door at Stark. It's amazing the people who've gone through those doors. Lots of networking opportunities."

"Wait...Natasha worked there?" Holy shit.

"Yeah?" Steve looks at him curiously. "Why?"

"I...well, Becca helped me get the job, used a friend of hers that had worked there before. She never told me who it was." He huffs. "Did you know they were still dating, after Maui?"

"Not at first, not...before you left. Natasha mentioned it in passing a couple of weeks ago. She...wanted me to know she was going to tell Becca about the scene she watched, between me and you. No details!" he adds quickly when he sees whatever Bucky's face just did. "I think she thought things might be developing more seriously between them and she wanted to be honest."

"Oh god, I can't believe my sister knows that," he groans. "But...I get it. I'm glad she's the one who told Becca and that Becca and I never, ever have to acknowledge that she has that knowledge."

Steve laughs, watching DeeDee as she sniffs a row of flowers, sneezes, and then growls happily. "Yeah, I'd guess Becca feels the same."

"Oh, speaking of Becca, I guess...I oughta tell her what's going on." He laughs a little breathlessly. He was so caught up in the moment, he didn't even think about it.

Steve nods, letting go of Bucky's hand to let him text Becca while Steve himself goes to pick up after DeeDee, giving her a treat for doing her business where she's supposed to go.

Bucky: so i...told him i love him
Becca: OH MY GOD??? AND??
Bucky: he loves me too, still. we're together right now, walking DeeDee
Becca: 😭😭😭💗💗💗💯💯💯🌈👨❤💋👨🎊🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉
Becca: I'm so happy for you Bucky!!! I'm CRYING. Your crybaby ways have rubbed off on me!!
Becca: call me when you can okay? I want to know everything! I love you! Say hi to steve for me!
Bucky: will do, love you too!!!!!

Bucky smiles, wiping his own tears away. He is such a crybaby.

"Everything okay?" asks Steve as he walks back up.

"Yeah." Bucky loops his arm through Steve's, hooking them together. "She says hi."

Steve leans over and kisses the side of Bucky's head, right where his temple meets his hairline. "Hi back."

"I'll tell her later," he says, tucking his phone in his pocket. "Come on, let's go back home. I'm starving."

"Yeah," agrees Steve. "Let's go home."

Chapter Text

——STEVE——

Steve relaxes as he finally hits the 495 and traffic begins to break up. Manhattan was a gridlocked nightmare even at 10 AM on a Saturday, and frankly, Steve is ready to be out of the city for the next two weeks. When Bucky suggested they go on vacation for the first couple of weeks of July, take a break for Steve's birthday, Steve jumped at the opportunity to have Bucky all to himself.

("We can go to my place in Montauk. Big and beautiful, private beaches, no one else nearby to hear you beg as loud as you want…"

Bucky's eyes dilated immediately, his voice going breathy and turned on. "Yeah, let's do that.")

Steve can't help but be excited and giddy with possibility. They've been officially together, no contract or payments, for a little over two months now and this will be the first time Steve will have Bucky all to himself for more than two or three days at a time. Granted, Bucky has mostly managed to switch his shifts at the bookstore to day hours, Monday through Friday, but he still works the occasional night or weekend, and Steve is big enough to admit he hates sharing him. It's especially been bad in the lead up to their vacation; Bucky working everyone else's shifts to get his own covered.

It's been good, though. It is good. While Bucky is the same, sweet sub whenever they play, he's also blossomed over the last two months, content and secure in their relationship in a way that makes Steve feel like the luckiest asshole on the planet.

The control panel in the car plays a sound and JARVIS's voice comes through the speaker. "Call from Mr. Barnes, sir. Shall I put him through?"

"Yes, thanks, JARVIS."

"My pleasure. Here he is."

There's another soft tone, and then Bucky is connected, apparently catching him mid-yawn. "Wha—oh, hey, Steve."

"Morning, Buck," says Steve, smiling softly as he keeps his eyes on the road.

"Morning." Steve can hear him padding quietly through the house, the sound of cabinets opening in the kitchen, the scuttle of DeeDee's claws on the hardwood. "What time will you be here? I miss you."

"You're the one who had the bright idea to go up yesterday without me," huffs Steve, glancing at the dash. It's almost 11 now. "Hmmm, around 1:30, maybe?"

"Okayyyy," sighs Bucky, clearly put out by the delayed gratification of having Steve nearby. "You were supposed to be here last night, anyway. I only left Friday morning so I could air the place out and meet up with the groundskeeper. If somebody hadn't gotten pulled into a big important business dinner, I could have woken you up with a blowjob."

Steve snorts. "You just woke up ten minutes ago, brat. You can't fool me. I think it would have been me waking you up."

"Potato, potahto." Bucky yawns again, though, which Steve feels just proves his point. "Anyway, what do you want for lunch? I'll have it ready for you when you get here."

"Hmm," considers Steve. "I think...I'd like to eat you for lunch."

Bucky chuckles, warm and pleased. "Oh yeah?"

Steve hums. "Lift you up onto the counter—"

"Ew," interrupts Bucky. "Hygiene."

"Push your knees apart," continues Steve, like Bucky didn’t say anything. "Tease that sweet little cock of yours with my tongue."

"Jesus," breathes Bucky, inhaling sharply. Steve hears something rattle, glass against marble. "You’re a filthy bitch, Rogers."

"What are you wearing?" asks Steve.

"A pair of your boxers and one of your Stark Industries hoodies," says Bucky easily. "I just rolled around in your closet and hoped for the best. Can’t believe you keep an entire full wardrobe in a house you barely visit."

Steve chuckles. "It’s useful now, isn’t it?"

Bucky huffs dismissively. "Excessive. So what I’m hearing from you is that it doesn’t matter what I make you for lunch, as long as I’m naked when you get here."

"That’s my good boy," says Steve fondly.

"Horndog," teases Bucky.

"I get you all to myself for two weeks," says Steve. "I plan to take advantage of it."

"Are we even going to get a chance to go to the beach?" whines Bucky.

"It's private," says Steve. "Of course we are. No clothes required."

Bucky makes a strangled sound. "I can't swim in the ocean naked."

"Why not?"

"Sharks."

Steve frowns into oncoming traffic as he passes a dawdling Prius. "I’m gonna need you to explain to me how a pair of trunks protects you from sharks."

"They don’t protect me," scoffs Bucky. "I just can’t die naked in the ocean. Can you imagine how humiliating that would be?"

"What if you died during sex?" counters Steve.

"I hadn’t considered that," admits Bucky. "I guess the where doesn’t matter."

"This is getting morbid," says Steve. "We can just skinny dip in the pool, instead."

"Now we’re back on track." Bucky sounds cheerful as he continues to clatter around the kitchen. It sounds like he’s stirring his coffee, a spoon clinking against a mug. "Hurry up and get here. But drive safe."

"I’m plenty safe," says Steve. "See you soon, Buck."

"Can’t wait," says Bucky.

There’s a beep as the call disconnects. Steve immediately misses Bucky’s voice.

The rest of the drive is relatively uneventful, and Steve takes full advantage of JARVIS keeping him informed of any speed traps, racing along the highway much faster than legal. He makes good time and pulls into the drive around quarter after one.

He takes the steps up to the wraparound porch two at a time and pulls open the door, dropping his single duffle to the floor and his keys in the dish on the table. "Bucky?"

"You're early!" comes the distant response. "How badly did you speed?"

"Not that bad. I was safe. Where are you?" He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the hook, kicking off his shoes.

"Kitchen. Just finishing up lunch."

Steve grins to himself, walking through the house. The sprawling property in Montauk is ridiculously beautiful, definitely over-the-top for a place he stays at maybe a couple of months a year, in total. Still, he likes having it, the peace and quiet it offers, the escape. He really likes that he has Bucky here.

When he steps into the kitchen, he finds Bucky, naked except for an apron, plating up sandwiches and potato salad. Bucky's cute bubble butt is swaying back and forth to music playing lightly from the house's sound system, and when he hears Steve walk in, Bucky turns and flashes a grin at him. "Hey. You hungry?"

God, Steve loves him. "Yeah," he murmurs, heat pooling in his gut as he steps up behind Bucky, pressing his front to Bucky's back. His hands settle on Bucky's hips. "But the food can wait."

Bucky grins but quickly tries to hide it, huffing. "The bread will get soggy."

"Mmm, oh well." He tips his head down to trail kisses over Bucky's bare shoulder and up the side of his neck.

"Oh well? What if I don't want to eat a soggy sandwich?"

Steve bites his earlobe. "Who said I care what you want?"

He's certain they're playing a game. Bucky sometimes likes to be obstinate just for the fun of getting roughed up, and when Bucky shivers against him, biting his lip to smother a moan, Steve knows he's right.

"Mean," mumbles Bucky, but he arches his back to grind his ass into Steve’s hips.

"Yeah," says Steve against the shell of Bucky’s ear. "You love it." Steve slides one hand up over Bucky’s chest, pinching his nipple to draw a soft gasp out of him. His other hand dips down to cup Bucky’s cock through the apron. Bucky’s plumping up already, cock tenting the fabric.

"I love not having to eat gross, wet bread," says Bucky, a little breathless. Steve pinches him again and he squeals, squirming in Steve’s arms. "Hey! I spend all this time in the kitchen, making you lunch, and you’re not even going to eat it?"

"Told you all I wanted for lunch was you," mutters Steve. "Not my fault you’re so cute. Should have thought of that an hour and a half ago."

"Ridiculous," says Bucky. "The potato salad is going to be wa—mm!"

Steve catches his chin and turns his head, kissing him firmly to shut him up. Bucky melts immediately, eyelids flickering shut as he sighs into the kiss and sags against Steve’s chest.

"You done being stubborn?" asks Steve when they part. He releases Bucky’s jaw, wrapping his hand loosely around Bucky’s throat instead, then giving his hardening cock a squeeze with his other hand. "Because I’m about ready to pitch you over my shoulder and take you to bed."

"Steve," whines Bucky. "Can I at least put the food in the fridge?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Steve steps back. Bucky snags both plates, grumbling under his breath as he opens the fridge. Steve hums. "Hey, baby?"

"What?"

"What's your safeword?"

There's a pause where Steve can see Bucky trying to hold back a smirk. "Red, but I'm good right now. Think I can handle you just fine."

The second the fridge door swings shut, Steve pulls Bucky to him, ducks swiftly to wrap his arms around Bucky’s narrow hips, and heaves him up over his shoulder.

"Steve!" yowls Bucky, his hands twisting into Steve’s belt.

"Brat," chides Steve, spanking him with a flat, open palm over his bare ass. The sound echoes briefly in the huge kitchen.

Bucky shrieks, kicking his legs. "Steve!"

"Yes, honey?" Steve marches off towards the master bedroom.

Bucky’s huffed protests soften into a breathless laugh. "I missed you."

Steve’s belly goes molten with pleasure. "We saw each other yesterday morning," he says gently. "But I missed you, too. Even though you’re a brat."

"Hey! I’m—"

Steve grins, flipping Bucky onto the king sized bed, chuckling as he twists around on the mattress and sputters, trying to right himself. Rolled onto his belly, ass up, just begging for it, Steve can’t resist cracking the palm of his hand over the sweet curve of it again.

"Oh," groans Bucky, hands clenching reflexively in the sheets, face flushed. "Fuck, Steve. You’re nasty."

Steve laughs. "Baby, you say that like you don't want it filthy every chance you can get it."

"Mmm," sighs Bucky, pulling his knees underneath him, his ass pushed up on display. "Don't know what you're talking about. I'm very respectable. Got it on excellent authority that I'm a good boy."

"Whoever told you that must be wrapped around your little finger, to be so blind to what a dirty little brat you are," he says, yanking open the bedside drawer. Sure enough, Bucky's stocked it with a fresh bottle of lube. Steve picks it up and pours it out onto his palm. He swipes it between Bucky's cheeks, rubbing over his hole.

"God, Steve, please!" gasps Bucky. "Hurry up."

"I see you're already embracing vacation rules," grumbles Steve, giving Bucky's ass a quick pinch with his free hand. "Don't recall giving you permission yet."

"Don't need permission," hisses Bucky as Steve presses two fingers inside him. "No rules, no punishments."

Steve holds back another laugh, instead climbing onto the bed so he can lean over Bucky, pushing his hand into his hair and yanking lightly. "Is that right?" he mutters, pushing in a third finger. "But you still want it hard, don't you, baby? Dirty boy like you. You want to feel it, huh?"

Bucky whines, arching his back into the plunge of Steve's fingers. "Yeah, fuck—give it to me. Been thinking about your cock all day."

Steve removes his fingers from Bucky's ass and reaches for his own pants, quickly undoing them one-handed, freeing his cock. "Demanding."

"You love it," mutters Bucky.

Yeah, Steve really does. Giving himself several strokes to get slicked up, he guides his cock to Bucky and starts to push in. "There you go," he growls, Bucky hot and slick around him, clutching at Steve's cock just so. "That's my perfect little slut."

Bucky moans, nodding his head, cheek rubbing against the bed. "Yeah, m'yours, Steve, just yours."

"Fit so nice inside you," Steve sighs. "Were you made for me, Buck? Built just perfect for me, huh?"

"Feels like I was," says Bucky, panting as Steve pushes in deep. He makes a high, soft sound as Steve bottoms out, body clenched tight, rippling around Steve’s cock. "Could stay right here forever. Sometimes I… Fuck, yeah, like that, Steve!"

"Hey," says Steve, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s hair and tugging again. "Finish your thought. Sometimes you what?"

Bucky whines, throat working as he writhes on the bed. "Nnh," he grunts. "What?"

"Tell me what you were imagining," Steve commands sternly. Bucky still goes distant and dreamy during sex, that wild imagination taking him on journeys he spills to Steve with a bit of gentle encouragement. Steve has never had a partner that likes to fantasize about sex during the physical act of sex, but Bucky’s always been unique. "That’s what it was, right?"

"Uh huh," says Bucky, lips parted as Steve fucks into him with deep, even strokes. "Sometimes I think about if you just kept me tied to your bed all the time, you know? I’d keep your bed warm." He sighs deeply, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. "You could just roll me over and slide in, just waiting there for you, made for you…"

"You’d like that?" Steve prompts him, reaching under Bucky to wrap a firm hand around his cock. "A kept boy, strapped down to my bed? You’d need the proper care and handling… Soft leather cuffs for those delicate wrists… A nice fat plug to keep you wet and open for me."

"Mmmm—oh my god," Bucky groans, hiding his face. He mumbles something completely incoherent into the bedclothes.

Steve tugs his hair again, demanding his attention, and Bucky turns his head, cheeks pink, mouth an obscene red.

"This mouth," says Steve, letting go of Bucky’s hair to shove two fingers between his lips, letting Bucky suck on them for a moment before pulling them free. "If you were waiting for me, I’d make sure to gag this sweet mouth just right. Fill you up, keep you stuffed and ready until I get home to find you all trussed up in my bed. Squirming and moaning for me…"

"Ahh, fuck," gasps Bucky, clenching hard around Steve as he angles his thrusts against his prostate. "Oh, fuck, Steve, I’m...I’m gonna come!"

Steve pushes deep and stops, hand clenched tight around the base of Bucky's cock.

Bucky lets out an anguished cry, jerking beneath Steve like he's been hit. "Steve!"

Steve sucks in his own steadying breath, letting it out slowly as his cock aches. Licking his lips, he holds Bucky still by his hair, leaning over him until he can speak directly in his ear, "What is it, baby?"

"I—Why did you stop?" He's trembling, voice rough with need.

"Oh, did you want me to keep going?" Steve gives a slow, shallow rock of his hips. "Were you hoping to come?"

"You know I was! I told you, I said!"

"Mmm, you did, didn't you. Didn't even ask permission, huh? Just told me, bold as anything." Steve gives in to the urge to move again, setting into a slow, gentle rhythm, one that he knows won't get Bucky off. "Seemed pretty presumptuous for someone who was such an obstinate, ungrateful brat when I finally got here."

"Steeeeve," he whines. "It—I didn't mean it! I am grateful, I am. Please!"

Steve clicks his tongue. "Tell me. Tell me how grateful you are that I'd give you my cock when you haven't earned it."

Steve can tell Bucky's on the verge of tears, floating along in that perfect state of distress he reaches when he's being denied an orgasm. Such a pretty little hedonist, greedy for whatever Steve will give him.

"I love it," sobs Bucky, clutching at the sheets, pushing back as much as Steve's hold on his hair will even allow. "Love the way it feels inside of me, love when you come in me, love how you stretch me open and how good you fuck me. Steve—Steve, you fuck me so good. Just want it, told you, want to be yours, be your kept boy, want you to use me."

Steve's dick throbs, his balls aching. "Say thank you," he grits out. "Thank me for giving you what you need."

"Thank you!" he gasps. "Thank you so much. Please, please!"

Steve sighs. "Alright, baby, since you've been so polite."

He hauls Bucky up and back, releasing his hair to wrap an arm around him, his hand resting around the base of his throat. With his other hand, he starts to stroke Bucky's cock in tandem with the quick, purposeful thrusts he delivers. He knows it won't take long, not when he's giving it to Bucky likes this.

Within moments, Bucky wails, head tossed back against Steve's shoulder, coming over his fist and clenching hard around Steve's cock.

"That’s it," Steve says roughly, tightening his grip around Bucky as he bounces him in his lap. Bucky’s gone limp and pliant, held snug in his arms, while Steve rides the cresting wave of his own climax as it builds, tipping him over into orgasm. "That’s my good boy," he gasps, hand secure around Bucky’s throat.

"Unh," mumbles Bucky. "Holy fuck."

Steve laughs, easing Bucky off his cock. He realizes belatedly that he’s still wearing the apron and now it’s covered in come. Oops. "You’re still verbal. Did I not do a good enough job?"

Bucky’s eyes are closed. "Hmm?"

"Buck?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Not home."

Steve snorts. "Okay, I won’t let my ego get too bruised." Tipping Bucky into the rumpled sheets, Steve strips him out of the apron and tosses it in the direction of the hamper. Bucky mumbles under his breath and burrows into the covers with a wide yawn.

"Hey, now," says Steve. He taps Bucky’s bare shoulder. "Don’t go to sleep. I’m hungry."

"Steve, oh my god," Bucky groans into the mattress, voice muffled. "Wasn’t I your lunch?"

"Want a sandwich."

"It’s in the fridge."

"Hmm. So it is." Steve leans an elbow on the bed, propping himself up to stare at Bucky. After a moment of fraught silence, Bucky stirs restlessly, cracking an eye open to peer groggily at Steve.

"What?" he demands.

"If I’m going to eat lunch," says Steve, pitching his voice low. "Then I need a table."

Bucky blinks, squirming uncertainly. "Yeah?"

Steve pats him firmly on the ass. "Wait here."

Hopping off the bed, Steve tucks himself back into his pants and zips up. He strolls back to the kitchen, whistling cheerfully, and grabs his plate from the fridge. After a second of contemplation, he takes out Bucky’s plate as well and just combines all the food onto one. He also takes two spoons out of the cutlery drawer and then returns to the bedroom.

Bucky raises his head curiously when Steve comes back. Steve walks to the edge of the bed and puts the plate down on the bedside table.

"Hands and knees," he says brusquely.

Bucky stares at him for a second, uncomprehending, but before Steve has to tell him again, he seems to stagger into motion. Rising up on his hands and knees, Bucky crawls forward a bit and then settles into place, shoulders squared, back nice and parallel to the bed.

"Good boy," Steve praises, sweeping his hand down Bucky’s spine. "Hold this." Grabbing the second spoon, Steve holds it out lengthwise. When Bucky parts his lips, he shoves the handle between Bucky’s teeth like a horse’s bit. "Don’t drop that," cautions Steve, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky grunts, already starting to drool.

Picking up the plate, Steve sits cross-legged on the bed beside Bucky and then balances it on the center of Bucky’s back.

Bucky makes a sharp noise, the plate trembling as he flinches. "C’ld!" he protests around the makeshift gag.

"You're the one who insisted on putting it in the fridge," says Steve without sympathy. "Now hush. Tables can't talk."

Bucky whines a bit but falls silent, trembling as Steve picks up his own spoon and starts in on the potato salad. "This is good, Buck. You make this yourself?"

There's a grunt and Steve can't tell if it’s affirmation or denial, but it doesn't really matter. Steve pinches the back of Bucky's thigh and grins when Bucky gives an answering squeal.

He spends the next little while eating quietly, teasing and tormenting Bucky as he shivers and twitches, trying to stay still. At some point, Steve notices his greedy cock getting hard again, and he can't help but grin. His boy is such a kinky little slut. It's cute.

As he finishes the last of his own food, he picks up a napkin and wipes his mouth and hands off, and then combs his fingers through Bucky's hair. It's gotten longer than he used to keep it. Still styled and recently trimmed, but he's growing it out. Steve likes it.

"Look at you. So needy. I can't even have my lunch without your greedy dick getting hard, can I?"

Bucky whines, still holding the spoon between his lips. His eyes have gone glassy and unfocused, but he tries to pout at Steve, begging silently.

With a put upon sigh, Steve reaches beneath Bucky and wraps his other hand around Bucky's cock. "I guess I'll have to take care of this if I expect you to be useful at all."

Bucky whimpers, thrusting into Steve's grip. The plate wobbles precariously and Steve pulls Bucky's hair in warning. "Hold still," he scolds. "If you knock over your lunch, you can spend the next twenty minutes cleaning it up instead of having an orgasm."

With a mournful noise, Bucky goes still. He's trembling a bit, but it's not enough to jar the plate, at least.

"Better," praises Steve. He strokes Bucky firmly, root to tip, and watches the shudder roll through his body as all his muscles tense up. "That's it. Hold perfectly still. Your participation in this really isn't required."

Bucky's head drops down between his shoulders, hair falling over his eyes. There's a little patch of drool collecting on the sheets under him, but he hasn't dropped the spoon yet. He's breathing deeply through his nose, making soft noises. His cock is rock hard and leaking in Steve's grip.

"I didn't even need to do anything to you to turn you on like this," says Steve, amazed, as he tightens his grip and starts to jerk Bucky faster. "All I did was make you hold still for me, made you useful, and you chubbed right up, huh, Buck? You sit around and dream all this up, think of ways I can humiliate you."

The tip of Bucky's nose has gone pink and he's completely rigid, arms locked in place. The muscles in his thighs tense and relax with the same rhythm of Steve's strokes. His dick is throbbing, hot and hard, drooling precome and slicking Steve's grip on him.

"If you’re ready to come, honey, then come any time," Steve says darkly. "I don't got all day to do maintenance, here."

Bucky makes a garbled noise, wounded, almost, and then he freezes in place with an agonized whimper as he spurts over Steve's fist.

"Hmm," murmurs Steve. He milks Bucky's cock until he's wheezing, eyes squeezed shut, and then wipes his hand on Bucky's thigh. "Drop the spoon. I need it."

With a groan, Bucky opens his mouth and lets it drop.

Steve picks up the spoon, scoops up some potato salad, and feeds it to an unresisting Bucky.

He makes a muffled sound, then gets with the program and takes the bite.

"Good boy," murmurs Steve. "Eat up."

All in all, it's a good start to vacation.

It's late afternoon by the time they make it back out of bed and Bucky goes to take DeeDee on her walk while Steve takes a shower. He's almost done when the bathroom door opens and Bucky steps in. "Hey, so I thought since we ate lunch so late, we could maybe pack a blanket and some dinner, bottle of wine, and head down to the beach by seven, sit down there for sunset. What do you think?"

Steve tips his head under the water, rinsing conditioner. "Sure, that sounds nice. How's DeeDee liking the beach? Has she gotten in the water yet?"

Bucky laughs. "No, she barks at the waves."

"She has your fear of sharks." Steve shuts off the water and gets out. Bucky holds out a towel and starts stripping down for his own shower.

"Ha, maybe," allows Bucky. "I have a favor to ask, though."

"Hmm?" Steve wraps the towel around his waist and grabs another to rub through his hair.

"I want to pick what you wear for once," he says, smiling shyly.

Steve chuckles, pulling Bucky close—he's naked again, bare chest pressed to Steve's. "What's the matter? Am I not up to your standards or something?"

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that's it. You're a real drag, Rogers. Just no style at all. But it's no surprise. Men your age don't tend to keep up with the latest trends—"

"Oh you little brat," howls Steve, nipping at Bucky's giggling mouth before he lets him go. "Get in the shower. You smell."

Bucky shrugs. "So? You still love me."

It's said with such casual confidence it makes Steve's heart pound, his whole body feeling light and electric with happiness. "Yeah," he says softly. "That's true."

Bucky's smile has gone soft and sweet and he presses a gentle kiss to Steve's lips. "I love you too."

Steve sighs, warm and content. "I know, baby. What would you like me to wear?"

Bucky grins delightedly. Putting both hands on Steve’s chest, he gives a light push, just enough to separate them. Then he sidesteps Steve, turning to back into the shower and keeping them facing each other as he moves. "That cute button up you have covered in tiny pineapples. Roll the sleeves up, though. Leave a couple buttons or three undone. Beach casual, you know? And those cream pants you have, the linen ones."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Please tell me I don’t have to wear boat shoes or a sweater tied around my shoulders. Are we going out for an afternoon on father’s yacht?"

Bucky cracks up. "No and no. Flip flops will work just fine. You’ll probably want to take them off on the sand anyway."

"Okay," says Steve easily. "Your wish is my command, honey."

Bucky salutes him. "I’ll be out in a bit." He steps into the shower, pulling the glass door closed. The water kicks on a second later.

Padding out into the bedroom, Steve finishes toweling off his hair and drying off his body, hanging them up before opening up the wardrobe. Bucky must have gone through here while Steve was in the shower to select the outfit he wants Steve to wear. Smiling, Steve collects the requested shirt and pants. He has a brief moment where he realizes that Bucky didn’t specify underwear, but ultimately, there’s no way he’s going outside wearing linen pants without a pair of nude boxer briefs on underneath.

Bucky, he knows, would have gone sans underwear.

He’s standing in front of the full length mirror, rolling his sleeves up neatly, when Bucky appears behind him, towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is a wet mess, slicked back from his forehead.

"What’s the verdict?" asks Steve, raising his eyebrows in the mirror.

"Your shoulder to waist ratio is kind of bananas," says Bucky. "How does anything fit you this well?"

"Oh, Buck," chuckles Steve. "You should know by now, everything is tailored."

"Ugh," says Bucky, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, you look good and you knew you would. Any requests from you?"

"Nope," says Steve, popping his p. "You wear whatever your heart desires." He glances at the clock—just after 6 PM. "I'm gonna go feed Dee her dinner, make sure she's settled."

"Okay," says Bucky, turning away to walk into the closet.

Steve feeds DeeDee and then puts her in the outdoor pen so she can have some run time while they're down at the beach. When he goes back to the house, Bucky is dressed and his hair is styled. He's wearing a dark blue pair of shorts with a black leather belt and black polo, sunglasses on and a picnic basket in hand.

He shoves his feet into black flip flops and grins at Steve. "Ready?"

"To go someplace with you? Always." He takes Bucky's hand and Bucky pulls the door closed behind them.

"Sap," laughs Bucky.

Steve shrugs. He'll be a sap for Bucky every day of the week. "What'd you pack for us?"

"You'll see. It's a surprise." They walk along the twisting path, wooden planks laid in the ground to guide them down the seaside hill. There are trees and tall grass, and Steve can hear the ocean crashing distantly, smell the salty air.

The sun is dipping lower in the sky, and though sunset won't be for a couple more hours, it's taken on that hazy orange of a summer evening. Just as they're about to break through the treeline, Bucky stops, tugging on Steve's hand. Steve pauses too, turning toward him.

Bucky...looks nervous, more than Steve has seen him in months. Steve frowns. "Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing, I—" he fidgets, looking over his shoulder and then back at Steve. "So...I just want you to know, if you hate this, we can duck out quick, okay?"

"What?"

"You'll see," he says again, some of that mischievous smile returning. He takes a deep breath and squeezes Steve's hand. "Come on."

Curiosity peaking, Steve lets Bucky lead him through the break in the trees and as they crest the last little hill, the beach opens up in front of them.

It's filled with people.

"SURPRISE!" choruses the crowd. Several people already have drinks in hand, all raised towards him, and Steve stops short, stunned.

"Happy birthday," whispers Bucky next to him, squeezing his hand. "Don’t worry. They’re not staying the night."

Steve doesn’t know what to look at first. Not only is the beach filled with people, with friends—Steve immediately spots Natasha’s shock of red hair, Sam’s wide grin, Tony waving at him with a champagne glass—it’s also set up with an honest-to-god bar, tables with food, and then blankets laid out all over the sand. There’s a tent set up over the bar and the buffet tables, lanterns and lights hung up from all four corners.

"Bucky," says Steve faintly, his voice coming out a bit choked. "You did all this?"

"With help," says Bucky gently. "You don’t hate it?"

"No, god, I don’t hate it," says Steve. "It’s beautiful."

"Then we should go say hi to everyone." Bucky tugs his hand a little, putting Steve back into motion as they go to meet the crowd.

"Nice job, Bucky bear," calls Tony, as they approach. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cap look upon the world with open surprise before. He was genuinely speechless." He steps forward, snagging a glass from one of the tables, handing it to Steve. "For the birthday boy."

"Thanks, Tony," huffs Steve, chuckling. They clink their glasses together.

"Happy birthday, Steve," says Pepper, walking up to link arms with Tony. "Bucky, thank you for inviting us."

"Thanks for coming," grins Bucky. "I didn’t really know how this was all gonna come together."

"You did a great job, nerd," announces Becca, appearing next to Bucky and hip-checking him directly into Steve. "These munchies are divine. Is this a jalapeno cheese puff?"

"How many have you had?" demands Bucky.

"You’re the one who set us all loose on the food while you brought him out here," she says, shrugging. She gives Steve a warm smile. "Happy birthday, Steve. Nice digs."

"Rogers," murmurs Natasha. "Happy birthday. Want us all to sing to you?"

"Oh, god, no," says Steve. He points at Bucky with his glass. "No."

"I’m not a monster," sputters Bucky.

"He's much more merciful than I would have been."

Steve's eyebrows go up and he meets Bucky's gaze briefly, getting an encouraging smile from him in return before he turns toward the speaker.

"Peggy," he breathes out. He's seen her a handful of times since April, but she's rarely in the country these days. Steve was working up to introducing her to Bucky, but he supposes Bucky's taken care of that for him. He feels genuinely grateful. "Thank you for coming."

She smiles at him, red lips perfectly painted, her hair worn down and softly waving around her face. She looks beautiful. "Steve, of course. Happy birthday."

Bucky steps up next to his side and Steve instantly makes space for him, wrapping his arm around Bucky's shoulders. "So you two have met?"

"No, actually," says Bucky. "I asked Natasha to send the invite. Peggy, I'm Bucky Barnes." He holds out a hand to her.

"Bucky," she says, smiling widely as she shakes his hand. Steve can see the delight in her expression. "This really is a lovely party. Thank you for thinking of me. I appreciate it."

"My pleasure." What little tension Bucky had when he approached, Steve can tell it's already falling away as he leans his head against Steve's shoulder. "I wanted all of Steve's friends here."

Steve's heart feel very full. He presses a kiss to Bucky's temple and Bucky grins at him. "Hey, I need to go check in with the caterer. I'll be right back."

"Sure, baby," murmurs Steve, releasing him as Bucky steps away. He looks back at Peggy and says, "So, that's Bucky."

He can see the curl of amusement on her lips, but she quickly hides it behind a sip from her champagne glass. "He's very sweet."

Steve laughs, ducking his head a moment. "Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system, Peg."

"Hmm," hums Peggy. "Insert impressionable youth joke here."

"He’s 24," Steve says defensively.

Peggy laughs. "And he’s adorable. Your taste in men is very predictable, darling. Dark hair, wide eyes, and a sweet demeanor that’s likely hiding a bit of a smart mouth."

Steve’s face burns. "You know way too much about me," he says evenly. "Name your price."

"Oh, Steve," she says, tapping red nails against her glass. "Truly, he’s lovely. I’m happy for you both. I’m glad it worked out."

"Me too," says Steve, letting out a slow breath.

Peggy leans in a little, takes a sip of her drink and then murmurs, "I trust the sex is athletic."

Steve snorts into his glass, a bit of champagne coming out of his nose. "Peggy!" he chokes, coughing.

"I’ll take that as a yes," she says smugly. They both catch sight of Bucky at the same time, standing by the bar and leaning across it to talk to Clint, who seems to be mixing him a drink. "He’s certainly lithe, isn’t he."

"Oh my god," mutters Steve. "Stop undressing him with your eyes."

"I barely need to," protests Peggy, chuckling. "I’m teasing. I’ll give you a brief reprieve, I need to go say hello to Pepper." She reaches out, squeezes Steve’s shoulder, and then moves off.

Steve sighs, taking a sip of his champagne. That was good. Weird, but good. It’s been really good to rebuild a workable relationship, a friendship, with Peggy over the last few weeks. Seeing her here, moving through the crowd chatting with all their mutual friends, feels like regaining something Steve really thought they’d both permanently lost.

"Hey," says Bucky, reappearing next to Steve, a little breathless. "Here, got you a better drink." He takes the champagne from Steve and trades him an Old Fashioned.

"Thank you," says Steve, very pleased. "I think I like this. Can’t remember the last time I actually celebrated my birthday."

"Good," says Bucky firmly. "Just think of this...as the pre-celebration, though. You get to celebrate with just me tomorrow. You get your present then."

His expression is very coy indeed. Steve raises his eyebrows, intrigued. "Is it rated R?"

"Oh," says Bucky, nodding. "Very."

"Should we send everyone home and get started early?"

"Steve!" huffs Bucky. "I’ve been planning this for three weeks! There’s a schedule."

"Okay, okay," says Steve easily. "Come on, then. I want some of this food."

Steve allows himself to be pulled through their guests, smiling and waving to people as he goes. America, Wanda, and Pietro, Scott and Hope, Angela and her husband, college friends Sam must have helped Bucky invite (god, he hasn't seen Thor in way too long), and a handful of cousins Steve is still in contact with. It's a respectable gathering. There's no one there out of pure courtesy, just people Steve is happy to see, to celebrate his birthday with. He loves Bucky even more for the thoughtfulness in the guest list alone.

They spend some time eating, sitting across from Sam and Riley.

"Thanks for letting me conscript Sam into helping me," Bucky says to Riley. "I know it meant he was out late last night."

"Wait, what?" asks Steve.

"No problem," says Riley, taking a sip of his drink. "It was worth it for the look on Steve's face."

"No, what?" repeats Steve.

"You didn't really think I absolutely needed your help with those clients last night, did you?" asks Sam, lifting his eyebrow. "It was two absolute nerds—accountants. They would have had a good time at a McDonald's."

"Oh my god," groans Steve, everything clicking. "I can't believe...you did that to keep me in the city, instead of here?"

"I had the crew setting up the beach first thing this morning," admits Bucky. "Couldn't have you here, going on your early morning run, ruining the surprise."

"Wow, betrayed at every turn," grumbles Steve, but he grins anyway. "Actually, this makes me feel better. I thought maybe you were losing your touch, Sam."

"Absolutely not," says Sam. "I'm offended."

"Don't offend him," scolds Bucky. "He came to my rescue. Seriously, Sam, you are a lifesaver. Thank you."

"Happy to help." Sam smiles easily and then sighs, pushing himself up from the table. He holds his hand out to Riley. "Think I'll go get another drink and then dance with my very handsome husband."

Riley grins and takes Sam's hand, getting up too. "See you two out there!"

Steve watches as they wander over to the bar and then out to the built-up wooden platform where people have started dancing, a DJ off to the side. Steve looks over at Bucky. "Dancing, huh?"

"Well," says Bucky, a sly smile on his face, "I didn't want to deny you a chance to show me off."

"Oh, is that it, huh?" Steve catches Bucky by the front of his shirt and reels him in. "How many times I gotta tell you I don't dance, Barnes?"

Bucky laughs right in his face, happy and light. "How many times you gonna tell me that lie, Rogers?"

"Until you get it into your pretty little head," says Steve, but he stands, pulling Bucky up with him. He wraps his arm around Bucky’s back and guides him out onto the dancefloor.

The music is slow, mellow, and Steve tangles their fingers together and waltzes Bucky around in lazy circles as their guests pair up, swapping partners and catcalling each other. Bucky leans into Steve, resting his head on his shoulder, Steve hugging him close.

"Thank you," Steve murmurs in his ear. "You really went all out for this, Buck."

"Wanted to," says Bucky. "Wanted to show you how much I love you. I’ve been wanting to do this right since I threw up on you in Maui."

"I’m sorry, did you just say you threw up on Steve?" It’s Becca’s voice, cutting into their moment as she sweeps by with Natasha in her arms.

Bucky’s head jerks up off Steve’s shoulder, eyes wide with horror. "Becca!" he wails. "Noooo!"

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this!" she crows gleefully.

"Please find just an ounce of chill," hisses Bucky. "Keep moving. That’s it. No, further. Bye!"

Becca twirls off with Natasha, cackling.

"Oh my god," mumbles Bucky. "Does she have some kind of inbuilt radar for when I’m about to embarrass myself?"

Steve laughs fondly, kissing Bucky’s temple. "She’s making up for lost time."

Bucky huffs. "She’s a demon."

"Seems to be genetic," Steve teases, nuzzling at the soft hair curling around Bucky’s ears. "So. Tell me more about my present."

"That’s not going to work," says Bucky, the slightest hint of a grouchy whine in his voice. He’s so cute it makes Steve’s heart kind of hurt. "You’ll get it tomorrow."

"Is it a physical thing?"

Bucky makes a noncommittal noise. "Yes and no."

"Cryptic."

"You’re just impatient," says Bucky. "Dance with me. Relax. Eat your weight in oysters. There’s cake soon."

"I do love cake."

It’s extremely good cake, three thick tiers, rich salted caramel icing on chocolate sponge layers. Mercifully, no one sings, but Steve does have to blow out thirty-eight candles while his friends and family applaud and whistle and jeer noisily.

After, when the sun is down, they sit on blankets and stare up at the sky as fireworks light it up. The Fourth isn't until Thursday, so for once, these fireworks are just for Steve. He wraps his arms tight around Bucky who's sitting between his legs, leaning against his chest. "You make me happier than I knew I could be."

Bucky sniffles a little and huffs, "You're pretty cute."

Steve grins, pressing a kiss to Bucky's cheek.

When the evening is winding to a close and the boats all the guests arrived on are returning to take them back to their cars, Steve stands, Bucky tucked under his arm, and holds up his glass. "I'd just like to say a few words."

There's some cheering, a few people clang silverware against glasses. Steve grins out at all of them, his heart soaring. "This is by far one of the best birthdays I've ever had. I want to say thank you all, again, for coming out, for helping make this night so special. You're all my family, and I couldn't have asked for better people in my life. Most of all, though, I'd like to thank Bucky, for putting all of this together."

There's another big round of applause and cheers. Steve looks over at Bucky and even in the low lantern light, Steve can tell he's blushing. He grins, giving Bucky a soft kiss.

"That's right, everyone should cheer, he deserves it. I know Bucky hasn't been a part of my life for very long, and therefore most of you haven't known him long either. Honestly, though, he is the most amazing man I've ever known—"

"Okay, now, don't get carried away. You know me," calls Tony.

Steve rolls his eyes, waving Tony off. He takes a breath, growing more serious. "Truthfully, I'm always so proud of Bucky and I feel incredibly lucky to know him. I'm so grateful he came into my life when he did, when...I wasn't exactly at my best."

"Steve," hisses Bucky, tears shining in his eyes, cheeks rosy.

Steve shrugs. "Sorry, baby, but you gave me this opportunity. I'd be a fool to pass it up. I need everyone important to me to know that I'm in love with you, wild about you, can't live without you."

There's an audible awww from the crowd, but Steve can't take his eyes off Bucky.

A tear escapes Bucky's gray-blue eyes and he wipes it off, giving Steve a fake glare. "Back at you, Steve, even if you are terrible for doing this to me when you know what a big crybaby I am."

A smattering of soft, fond laughter surrounds them, and Steve smiles too, leaning in to kiss the tears away. He whispers wickedly, "If you tell me what my birthday present is, you might leave here with some dignity intact."

Bucky makes an outraged face, whispering back, "I will not be blackmailed."

Steve laughs, just as happy with this outcome as he might have been to get the information. "Your choice." And without another word of warning, he bends down and hauls Bucky up, tossing him over his shoulder for the second time that day.

He waves a hand at their friends, all howling with laughter and catcalls, and shouts, "Goodnight, everyone! Thanks for coming!" Then he starts up the hill with Bucky yelling at him the whole way.

"You’re a caveman!" hollers Bucky, kicking his legs theatrically. "You're a straight up caveman, Steve! You can hide behind the Tom Ford and Gucci but I know what truly lies beneath!"

"What drama," drawls Steve, grinning. He keeps his arm locked around Bucky's waist, helping himself to a handful of Bucky's ass when they're safely into the trees.

Bucky squeaks, squirming on Steve's shoulder. "You can't have your present early! No matter what you do to me, I won't talk."

"I don't get birthday sex tonight?" he asks innocently.

Bucky makes an exasperated noise. "That’s different! They’re not mutually exclusive. You can have your way with me tonight and then tomorrow you’ll find out what I planned."

"So it’s an experience?" asks Steve, jostling Bucky as he climbs the steps up to the deck.

"Wouldn’t you like to find out?" Bucky is bracing himself on Steve’s ass, bony elbows digging in. "We have to get DeeDee."

"I know," says Steve, crossing the deck to the puppy pen. DeeDee barks excitedly when she sees them and Steve kneels down at the edge of it and dumps Bucky into the nest of blankets inside one corner of the pen.

"Hey!" laughs Bucky, sprawled on his back. DeeDee climbs on top of him, licking his face and walking all over his chest like he’s a personal obstacle course. "DeeDee! Noooo! You’ll never make me talk!"

"My interrogation technique might need a little work," admits Steve. "You seem like you’re enjoying this."

"Not when her tongue goes up my nose," sputters Bucky. He puts a hand on DeeDee’s muzzle, pushing her face away, and struggles to sit up.

Steve braces his arms on the top of the pen, grinning slyly at Bucky. "Both my puppies safe in one place. Adorable."

"Steve!" cries Bucky, his face flushing red. "You can’t just say stuff like that!"

Steve shrugs, smirking delightedly. "I think you'll find that I can."

Bucky huffs, making a shooing motion at Steve. "Move, let us out."

"Ask nicely."

"What happen to 'no pleases'?"

"One, didn't you already establish it's vacation earlier today when you were begging me? And two, it's my birthday. I can demand pretty pleases if I want."

"Technically, it's not your birthday for like five more days. I will totally withhold your present until then if you're not careful," warns Bucky, holding up his finger at Steve.

Steve clutches at his chest dramatically. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me," says Bucky, lifting an eyebrow. He looks adorably flushed, the security flood lamp illuminating the area, lighting him up.

Steve's stomach flips pleasantly, just remembering that Bucky is his, that Bucky is here because he loves Steve. Steve leans over the fence and presses his lips to Bucky, eliciting a surprised sound, Bucky's expression softening immediately. "I would love to try you."

Bucky laughs. "Yeah, yeah, come on, for real. You can't keep me out here all night, jerk."

"I guess," sighs Steve, but he smiles back and lifts the latch, swinging the door open.

DeeDee takes off straight for the porch, barreling up the steps while they walk behind her, Steve catching Bucky's hand in his. Bucky laces their fingers together and looks very pleased.

Once they get DeeDee settled in her crate for the night, they head to the master bath without discussion, and slowly, Steve strips them both down, keeping the sand quarantined to the one room. As they wash up under the rainfall showerhead, Steve pulls Bucky close and kisses him, kisses him until they're both breathless, stumbling out of the shower and falling into the bed, wet and tangled together, laughing and complaining all at once.

Bucky's eyes are bright in the dark room and Steve loves him.

It's hard to distinguish making love from sex these days because it feels like no matter when he's with Bucky, no matter what they do, there's love. Still, as he rocks into him in deep, slow strokes, Bucky's arms around his neck, Steve's hand buried in his hair and the other clutching at Bucky's hip, he feels like the love might swallow them both up. He didn't know it could feel like this, to give himself up completely to another person, to trust in them this way, but it does.

"I love you," he groans, sweat collected between his shoulder blades, rolling down his spine. He licks at Bucky's salty skin, across the hollow of his throat and the top of his lip, sucks his earlobe between his teeth as his perfect ass clutches hot and wet at Steve's cock.

"Steve," cries Bucky, head tipped back. "Oh, Steve, please."

"Yeah, baby, go ahead. Come for me, so perfect. You're so perfect."

Bucky comes, gasping Steve's name again, arching up and squeezing so tight. Steve follows soon after and barely has the wherewithal to roll them, pulling out of Bucky but keeping him close as they drift off to sleep.

Despite Bucky’s impending surprise and how desperately Steve wants to know what it is, it’s also the first morning of his vacation, and he sleeps in.

Steve is distantly aware of Bucky getting up, but it feels too early, and Steve just mumbles and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow and going back to sleep. When he does finally open his eyes and yawn widely, sunlight is streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows.

Stretching out luxuriously, Steve yawns again. The space next to him is empty and cool to the touch, Bucky long gone. The smell of coffee drifts to Steve’s nose.

"...Buck?"

"Coming," Bucky calls back.

Steve scoots back in bed, propping himself up in the mass of pillows, watching the doorway expectantly.

When Bucky comes in, though, for a second Steve has no idea what he’s seeing.

"I made you breakfast," says Bucky, walking gracefully to the bed. He’s holding a tray in both hands, carrying a plate piled with pancakes and fruit and a steaming cup of coffee.

He’s also totally fucking naked.

Well, okay, that’s not quite right. He’s definitely not wearing clothes. He is wearing a lot of accessories, though. Steve’s jaw drops, stunned, as Bucky sets the tray down over Steve’s lap and then folds his hands over his bare belly, inviting Steve to look his fill.

Which he does, gladly, because Bucky has apparently spent his morning cooking breakfast and also trussing himself up for Steve’s pleasure in brand new bindings.

Wrapped around his throat is a rigid silver posture collar, which forces his chin up, his spine ramrod straight as he waits quietly for Steve to drink him in. The d-ring resting at the hollow of his throat is connected by a thin chain to the glimmering clamps on his nipples. He’s wearing cuffs on his wrists, connected by a short silver chain, as well as a set on his ankles, though he’s given himself a bit more leeway with the length of that chain.

As Steve drags his gaze down Bucky’s body, he sucks in a breath. Bucky’s cock is bound securely in a stainless steel chastity device, held in place by a metal belt biting into his narrow hips.

Every single thing he’s wearing is held shut with honest-to-god padlocks.

"Bucky," breathes Steve. "Baby. You did all this for me?"

"No, I’m going to see my other sugar daddy today," Bucky says dryly. "Happy birthday, Steve."

Steve lets out a startled laugh. "Smartass."

"Well, if you stop just sitting there staring at me, you could put the gag in," says Bucky, lifting his eyebrow in challenge. "I already ate breakfast, so I'm good for the whole morning."

"Bucky," croaks Steve, unable to come up with words right now. They haven't really done this kind of kink since Bucky came back. Hell, it's really been since before Maui that they did anything very structured and formal.

It's not exactly that Steve has been missing it. That might imply he hasn't been perfectly satisfied with everything they've been up to since Bucky came back to him. It's more that Steve didn't think to miss it, and now that it's here being presented to him on a silver platter (almost literally, given the nature of Bucky's decorations), Steve is ravenous in his realization that he gets to have Bucky like this. He gets to do this with him now, within the context of their new reality.

Bucky gracefully, gorgeously sinks to the floor on his knees, the posture collar keeping his head up, meeting Steve's gaze. "Whatever you want, Steve. That's what I'm giving you, okay? Forget vacation play. The only thing that matters is our normal rules. You can hurt me or give me pleasure or make me cry...anything you want to do to me, with me—anything you want. I'm yours unless I say red or snap my fingers."

"Oh, god." Steve's cock is already hard, his heart already hammering at what's on offer.

Bucky smirks. "I know you'll make me feel exactly what you want me to feel and it'll be perfect."

Steve takes a steadying breath, letting himself sink into the appropriate mindset, allowing his imagination to run wild with all the things he'd like to do with Bucky all bound up. Picking up his coffee, he takes a sip. It's exactly how he likes it. He looks down at Bucky again and says evenly, "Go get your gag."

"Yes, sir," Bucky says smartly. He turns and shuffles out of the room, jingling gently. Steve watches his pert little ass as he goes, the chastity belt dipping down between his round cheeks. Steve wonders if he’s wearing a plug. It’s Bucky, after all. There’s no way he didn’t go all out.

While he’s gone, Steve digs into his pancakes, scooping up fluffy mouthfuls soaked in maple syrup and bites of sweet, fresh fruit. He sips coffee between each bite, wondering not for the first time how he got so lucky.

Bucky reappears a few minutes later after Steve has made a sizeable dent in his shortstack. He leans back, popping a strawberry into his mouth and grinning as Bucky returns to the edge of the bed.

"You pick the one you want, honey?" asks Steve.

"Yes," says Bucky. "But first, these." In his other hand, he’s holding a keyring, which he rattles gently and hands to Steve.

"A key?"

"For the locks. I put them all on myself," says Bucky. "But you’re in charge of taking them off."

"What if I don’t want to at all?" Steve teases lightly.

Bucky grins. "Then don’t."

Steve tucks the keyring carefully into the palm of his hand to put aside and hide when Bucky’s not looking. "Good boy. Now give me the gag you chose. You clearly can’t stop running your smart mouth without help."

Bucky presents Steve with a black leather strap that has a frankly enormous dildo attached to the panel in the middle.

"Well, now," says Steve, voice mild. "You sure you’re not gonna choke on this?"

"Excuse me?" huffs Bucky. "Are you doubting my capacity?"

Steve snorts. "That’s enough out of you. Come here." He points to the edge of the bed next to his hip. "Sit pretty for me."

"I’m always pretty," murmurs Bucky. He obeys, though, sitting very gingerly on the edge of the bed, his hands on his knees as he turns his body towards Steve.

"Open up," orders Steve. Pushing the dildo between Bucky’s parted lips is, frankly, obscene. The thick girth of the silicone dick sinks deep into his mouth, his cheeks bulging a little. Steve uses the palm of his hand, pushing the dildo flush against Bucky’s lips, pulling the straps taut and buckling it on securely, careful not to snag any of Bucky’s hair.

"There we go," murmurs Steve, checking the fit and making sure the gag is in snugly. "Now you’re all set, baby. Don’t you look adorable?"

Bucky makes a soft noise, blinking wide, hazy eyes at Steve. He’s squirming in place, shoulders drawn back to maintain that perfect posture.

Steve sits back to just look at him, picking up his mug to sip at his coffee. "What am I gonna do with you, Buck? The possibilities are endless. Hey, did you stuff a plug in that sweet little hole of yours?"

"Mmhm," Bucky hums, nodding as much as the collar will allow. His face flushes pink at the admission.

"Well, isn't that interesting," murmurs Steve. He takes another bite of pancakes, letting his lips slide purposefully over the metal tines of the fork, chasing every last drop of syrup and butter. "That's so thoughtful of you, Buck."

Bucky huffs, batting his lashes at Steve, no doubt hoping to entice him to action. Steve, however, is more than happy to let Bucky sit with his cute little ass full and wait. He forks a piece of fruit and brings it to his lips, watching Bucky watch him.

"You're not used to this anymore, huh? Suffering at my whim like this. I've spoiled you a long time," says Steve conversationally. "But you missed it, didn't you, baby? Just being a pretty little toy for me to look at as much as I want."

Eyelashes fluttering, Bucky makes a plaintive little sound.

"That won't work. You're going to sit right there until I'm ready for you." Steve smirks, chuckling to himself as he tucks into finishing the rest of his breakfast while Bucky tries and fails to keep still on the bed. It's cute.

When he's done with the food, he drains the last of his coffee and stands, lifting the tray up, too. He walks past Bucky without a word, carrying it toward the kitchen. He can hear Bucky behind him, a squawk of indignation and then the thump of footsteps on the floor, chains rattling. Bucky can't move as fast as Steve, shuffling along with the impediment of his restraints, and Steve's dumped the tray and dishes into the sink by the time he makes it there.

"Mmm!" Bucky cries.

Steve turns and snags his finger through the ring of Bucky's collar, dragging him forward abruptly. "Did I tell you to follow me?"

Bucky's cheeks are pink and he's frowning, doing his best to look annoyed despite the silicone cock shoved between his teeth right now. "Hnm!"

Steve gives the collar a little shake and Bucky follows, stumbling a bit, eyes wide. He's so tempting like this, helpless and at Steve's mercy, begging to be brought to heel.

"No, I didn't," Steve answers for him. "I told you to sit and wait, but I guess I can't expect a greedy little slut like you to be good for long, can I? You’re so out of practice."

Steve lets his gaze drag down Bucky's body, taking him all in again while maintaining his hold. Bucky's sweet cock is entirely encased in a stiff metal sleeve, hidden from view, but Steve has no doubt it's already eager and aching for attention. Bucky never could resist the thrill of being humiliated and scolded. Such a glutton for punishment, no matter what vacation rules were ever established.

"Guess I oughta be glad you put yourself in this, huh?" he asks, giving the chastity device—and Bucky's cock by proxy—a firm swat.

Bucky whines sharply, eyes going big and glassy with unshed tears within moments. Such a baby for someone who routinely begs to be slapped around, but Steve trusts him, knows that Bucky will let him know if he needs to safeword with two quick snaps of his fingers. Until then…

Well, until then, Steve's free to slap his cock again. So he does.

"Nnnnmmm!" A single wet drop rolls down Bucky's cheek and Steve grins.

"Uh huh, I know," he says with mock sympathy. "It's so hard for spoiled little subs, isn't it?"

"Mmhm," Bucky mumbles sullenly. He’s really putting effort into the puppy dog eyes, trying to appeal to Steve’s soft gooey center using the tried and true method of pleading for leniency that he doesn’t really want by being tremendously cute.

"Oh," croons Steve, cupping Bucky’s cheek with one hand. With the other, he slaps him in the cock again.

Bucky howls, face scrunching up in distress. He jerks back instinctively, but Steve snags him by the collar, stopping him in his tracks with a gasp.

"Ah, ah," cautions Steve. "Good boys take what they’re given. Good boys also wash up the messes they made. Get cleaning. If you do a good enough job, maybe I’ll find something better to do with you."

Bucky exhales gustily through his nose, his face falling, but he obediently shuffles to the sink to wash the dishes from breakfast. As he brushes past Steve, he turns to give him a sharp smack on one pale ass cheek.

With a squeal, Bucky stumbles forward, catching himself on the counter and then turning to pin Steve with an accusing glare.

He looks like an agitated terrier, his chest heaving as he pants raggedly, flushed and trembling and so, so helpless.

Steve leans up against the island to watch him work, imagining Bucky preparing himself for Steve before he woke up, slowly and carefully locking himself into bondage for Steve’s pleasure. Steve could push him down and fuck him right on the kitchen floor, or just bend him over the countertop and spank him until his ass turns a bright cherry red. He could bring him into the living room and force him to get down on his hands and knees, prop his feet up on his back while he reads a book…

He could do anything to him and Bucky would take it in stride and likely enjoy it. It’s obviously not effortless sympatico, considering what it took for them to get to this stage of being in an actual relationship, but...their sexual chemistry, that fell into place first and Steve’s never had a partner he’s been so thoroughly compatible with.

"You ever think about if you were really a toy?" asks Steve.

Bucky glances sidelong at him, chin tipped up, rinsing off Steve’s plate. His chin’s a bit wet with drool, and his pupils are all blown out as he waits to hear more, evidently flustered. "Mm?"

"You’re a reasonable facsimile, Buck, but when it comes down to it, you take a lot of work, you know? High maintenance." Steve grins at him, arms crossed over his chest. Bucky’s gaze drifts dreamily down to drink in his torso, before slowly dragging back up for their eyes to meet. "If you were a real toy, when I finished playing with you, I’d clean you up, wipe you down, and pack you up. You’ve seen how clean I keep the playroom, haven’t you? Why would caring for a toy be any different?"

Bucky’s stopped what he’s doing entirely, his eyes huge, the grey ring of his irises swallowed up almost completely. Steve shifts closer, bumping his hip up to the counter by Bucky, before reaching out to turn off the faucet. "Don’t waste water, Buck," he reprimands softly.

The garbled noise Bucky makes might be an apology. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Steve just stares him down and keeps talking.

"I’d just fold you up nice and neat, like a doll. Tuck you into your box and put you away." Steve smiles serenely. "You’d be so much less work. Waiting quietly for me until next time."

Bucky blinks rapidly, tears spilling over his cheeks. He looks wrecked by Steve’s words so Steve picks up a dish towel and starts drying Bucky’s hands for him. "My little toy," he sighs. Bucky makes a mournful noise, clutching desperately at Steve’s wrists.

"What a silly crybaby," mutters Steve, leaning in close, his lips brushing Bucky's ear. "As if you don't know exactly how much I love keeping you well-maintenanced."

Bucky's answering sob is the perfect mix of distress and relief, unfulfilled desire and raw need. God, he's beautiful, and Steve very abruptly doesn't want to wait anymore to have him. With a parting nip to Bucky's ear, he pushes him back and spins him around, tipping him right over the counter.

"There we go," he says roughly, one hand on the back of Bucky's neck, the other moving between his cheeks as Steve kicks his legs as far apart as the chains will allow. He easily locates the base of the plug, snug against his hole, and he taps it meanly.

Grunting, Bucky shivers at the touch, tilting his ass up as much as he can.

"Slut," he says fondly, twisting the body-warmed metal at the base, getting a grip before he starts to pull it free.

He doesn't waste time with more preamble, just shoves his own boxers down and angles the head of his cock against Bucky's slick, prepped hole and starts to push in.

The high, smothered response echoes in the bright kitchen, bouncing off the polished tile and white cabinets. Steve's hand drifts from his cock to Bucky's hip, holding him tightly as he bottoms out with another thrust.

"Fuck," he grunts, the pleasure leaving him breathless. Being inside of Bucky is always, always a revelation, a goddamn spiritual experience. Steve loves to tease him about being made to take Steve's cock, but fuck if it doesn't feel like it, the way Bucky's ass grips so tight and slick.

Bucky's eyes are half-closed, already adrift now that he has what he wants, drool collecting on the counter as he moans. Steve presses down closer, sucking Bucky's earlobe back between his teeth, worrying it as he starts in on a hard, punishing rhythm. "There you go."

Every hard snap of Steve’s hips knocks Bucky into the counter; he’ll have bruises, maybe, along each delicate crest of bone. He grunts softly with each thrust, thighs spread, getting louder as Steve puts his back into it.

"Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?" asks Steve. "Are you happy now?"

Bucky makes a choked, affirmative sound. He’s pinned firmly, hands folded up under his belly, trapped by the short length of chain. When Steve reaches down to tease between his legs, he finds the heat of Bucky’s body has warmed the metal of the chastity belt. He gets a sharp whine as he gropes at where Bucky’s cock is hidden; while Steve’s personally tried a lot of the toys and devices he uses on Bucky, he’s never actually worn an item like this. He has no idea what it feels like to be denied sensation to his erection and it’s endlessly fascinating how Bucky pursues the feeling.

Leaving his cock alone, Steve toys with his balls instead, which aren’t bound by the belt and are drawn up tight and swollen.

"Mmph!" wails Bucky, when Steve squeezes at them, rolling them both in his hand. He squirms, arching his hips forward into the edge of the counter in a fruitless attempt to get away.

"I know, I know," murmurs Steve, nuzzling at Bucky’s jaw and pressing a soft kiss there. "Poor baby. Does that hurt?"

"Unh," mumbles Bucky, rubbing cheek against the cool counter as he shakes his head.

"No?" teases Steve. "It doesn’t hurt, you’re just so sensitive, aren’t you? Tell you what… I’m going to keep fucking you just how you like, and when I’ve come and plugged you back up again, maybe I’ll play with your poor little cock."

Bucky whimpers helplessly. He squeezes his eyes shut and nods, though.

Steve chuckles, rolling his hips deep. Bucky’s hunched up a bit over the edge of the counter, changing the angle, so Steve folds down heavily over him and pins his throat to the marble. "Now, now," he croons. "Be a good boy and hold still while I give you what you’ve been so desperate for."

The rhythm he settles into rattles the dishes in the sink while Bucky turns to putty under his hands, pliant and open as Steve fucks into him with purposeful focus.

The hot, building pressure creeps into Steve’s belly, tingling at the base of his spine, and when he reaches climax, he fucks deep and spills into Bucky, scraping his teeth along the bare slope of Bucky’s shoulder.

He allows himself a moment to enjoy the cascade of his orgasm, the consequent ripples that make his muscles tense and release. With a soft sigh, he pushes himself up, picking up the abandoned plug so he can press it back in place as soon as he pulls out.

Bucky whines a bit, but it's distant, his stare sweetly vacant as he shivers. Steve pulls his pants back up and then buries his fingers in Bucky's thick hair, pulling him to stand up straight. "Come on, time for your treat."

"Hmm?" He blinks, his lashes dusting his cheeks slowly.

Steve laughs, guiding Bucky on shaky legs back toward the bedroom before he scoops him up and drops him into the bed without warning. Bucky makes an undignified noise, his face gradually falling into a scowl. Steve climbs on after him, pushing his legs up and reaching across him for the keyring he left in a bowl on the bedside table. "Hush, or maybe I won't play with this greedy cock at all."

Bucky turns contrite immediately. "Mmmmm," he pleads. "Mmhmm!"

"So cute." He pats Bucky roughly on the cheek before gripping his chin. "I suppose even if you are a lot of work, you're still a very entertaining toy, aren't you?"

If Bucky tries to agree, Steve doesn't pay it any attention, instead giving his nipples a quick tug with the chain connecting them, just to hear Bucky's squeal. Chuckling, Steve places the key in the padlock guarding Bucky's dick, releasing the latch.

With deliberate focus, he pulls the cage away. His cock is glistening with lube and just as desperate for attention as Steve predicted. It's flushed red and half-hard, chubbing up even more as Steve wraps a hand around him.

Bucky lets out a needy moan, tears springing to his eyes again, hips jerking up into Steve's touch. Steve releases his dick and tugs roughly on his balls, earning another sharp cry from Bucky.

He continues on for a little while, returning to Bucky's cock again and again, until it's achingly hard, visibly straining. Every breath Bucky lets out sounds like he's begging for his life.

"You didn't think I was going to let you come, did you, baby?" he asks, letting his thumb drag wetly across the head, teasing across the slit.

Bucky sobs mournfully.

Steve sighs, letting false regret and sympathy color his tone, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Bucky's wide blue eyes look as though he's been utterly betrayed, shiny and wet, red-rimmed and lashes clumped. His nose has gone pink and his face is messy with tear tracks. He's so overtly, theatrically sad that he looks like a character from one of the anime shows he likes to watch on Netflix.

"This belongs to me," Steve tells him, giving his cock a sharp squeeze. "You locked it up and handed me the key. And I've decided you don't get to come."

Bucky sags back into the pillows, hips arched up, body a tense, trembling mass. The smooth, velvety skin of his cock slides against Steve's palm, the heat of him throbbing with want.

He's smooth everywhere else, too; he'd disappeared on Thursday morning to go to Solei, coming back pink and hairless and sensitive. Getting himself ready for Steve.

Getting himself ready for this. Steve's overcome with Bucky's eager submission, whole and absolute. He missed this. He missed the balance, the give and take, and magnetism between them.

"All of this," muses Steve, stroking the wet head of his cock with thumb and forefinger. "Your greedy cock and desperate hole, your tight little nipples and full mouth…it’s all mine, Buck. It all belongs to me right now. I’m responsible for you. I control your pleasure because you trust me to decide for you. You hand me your body all chained up in silver…"

Bucky squirms helplessly, red staining his cheeks and spreading down to a splotchy blush across his chest. When he’s strung out like this, drunk on chasing sensation, Steve just wants to alternate wildly between giving him pleasure and inflicting pain. He reacts beautifully to either and seems to treat them equally. He really does want pain just as much as pleasure. A hedonistic masochist.

With that in mind, Steve drags the edge of his thumbnail along the crown of Bucky’s dick.

He squeals, body going rigid, the muscles in his spread thighs tensed. Steve ignores the muffled noises he’s making behind the gag, taking his cock more firmly in hand and starting to jack him at an increased pace.

Knowing Bucky, he might be able to tolerate it, but there’s a very real chance this is an order he can’t obey; it’s been a while since Steve edged him and whatever endurance he had might be diminished.

"I don’t want to punish you, but I will," Steve says calmly. It’s obvious Bucky is close. He’s rolling his hips into Steve’s hand, making soft noises with every tug of his cock. His restraint crumbles with a swipe of Steve’s thumb over a pearl of precome at the slit, shuddering into orgasm as he chokes out a strangled cry.

"Oops," says Steve flatly. "Isn’t that interesting. This little cock of mine just spilled. I didn’t tell it to do that."

Bucky lets out a choked, agonized cry, body arching and shuddering through the remains of his orgasm. His cries turn softer, apologetic in tone, and Steve gives him an unimpressed look. "Is this little show supposed to be convincing? Do you think it will get you mercy?"

He answers with a single low sound, regretful and so, so pathetic.

Steve waits until Bucky finally blinks open his eyes to look at him, and then he brings his hand down in a flat-palmed slap, right against his wet and oversensitive cock. Bucky's whole body reacts, trying to curl in on itself, to shield his cock from view, but he barely makes a sound at all, sucking in a shocked gasp through his nose, eyes wide and pupils blown.

"Ah, ah," scolds Steve calmly. "None of that. You don't get to hide what belongs to me. Spread your legs."

Bucky whimpers, pleads wordlessly.

"Now," commands Steve, no room for argument. Bucky's eyes flutter, but he obeys slowly, opening his legs again and relaxing back.

Steve can see the tension as he waits, dreading and hoping for Steve to continue. Tenderly, he drags a finger up the length of Bucky's softening, drippy cock, watching as Bucky flinches, barely able to stop himself from closing his legs.

"Good," says Steve. "Don't forget again." Then he lands several more harsh slaps in a row as Bucky shouts and squeals and trembles.

If they were home, in the playroom, Steve would maybe switch it up, try hitting Bucky's cock with a few different items—a crop, a flogger, a leather strap. He'd vary the speed of the strokes, preventing Bucky from anticipating them.

There's no playroom here, though, and Steve is happy enough to just use his hands. It's no hardship, skin to skin contact like this. He gets to feel the weight of it, the sting of sharp contact, the give of flesh.

"Unh!" wails Bucky, back arched, his chest heaving. "Unh, unh, unh!" A laboring gasp with each slap to his reddened cock, the twitch of overexerted muscles in the pale length of his thighs. "Mmnnnn!"

"If you think pretty noises and tears affect me, Buck, then you've got another thing coming," says Steve. "You cry, you carry on, you do whatever you need to do, and I'll do whatever I want. How's that?"

Bucky mumbles, instinctively trying to close his legs and roll his body to escape a particularly vicious flick of Steve's fingers at the head of Bucky's cock.

"Ah, ah," warns Steve. "You don't want me to strap you down, do you? Who am I kidding… of course you do! If you want to be bound more securely, Bucky, you don't have to play mind games with me."

With a final hard slap to the shaft, Steve releases Bucky's sore cock and sits back to look at him.

Bucky draws in a deep, shaky breath through his nose. When he swallows hard around the thick length stuffing his mouth full, a bit of drool slips out the corners of his lips.

If the gag's dildo was longer, thicker, if Bucky wasn't wearing such a restrictive collar, Steve could force his head back, put a hand on his throat and then make him swallow. Steve is sure the silicone dick would visibly bulge out his throat.

Watching Bucky wriggle weakly on his back, bound and restrained, all his greedy holes filled up, Steve takes a moment to thank his lucky stars.

"You don't deserve to be fucked again," Steve states. "Not after you came without permission. And you got off too much on having your cock slapped. What am I going to do with such an insubordinate pet? How can you be made useful, hm?"

Bucky makes more sweet, unintelligible sounds.

"I suppose," replies Steve, slapping Bucky's cheek roughly. "At least I could get some rest from all the work you're making me do."

"Mmmnn," says Bucky, making his eyes as wide and sad as he possibly can. Such a brat.

"Hush." He picks up the chastity device and slicks it up again, sliding it over Bucky's cock, ignoring his whines of protest as he snaps the lock into place.

Reaching up, Steve hooks his fingers through the wide loop at the front of Bucky's collar and hauls him up. "Come on, get on the floor, hands and knees."

He watches carefully as Bucky stumbles to comply, making sure he's able to get his balance, that nothing looks more uncomfortable than it should. When Bucky is settled, Steve snaps his fingers. "Follow me."

Steve leads Bucky out of the bedroom and into the nearby living room, not bothering to go slow enough for Bucky's shuffling, uncoordinated crawl, hampered by his various cuffs and chains. He sits gracefully down on the couch and waits with an air of impatience, drumming his fingers against the armrest as he watches Bucky's struggling approach.

If only Steve's high school drama teacher could see him now. Those improvisation exercises are really coming in handy. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, maintaining his stern appearance.

"About time," he announces when Bucky finally comes to a stop in front of him. "I can't very well relax and watch TV without my footstool, now can I?"

Bucky's eyes go wide as a flush creeps over his face, humiliation settling in. He doesn't hesitate beyond the initial shock of the order, shuffling into place and turning so his body is parallel to the length of the couch.

Steve's gotta hand it to him—he doesn't slump or sag. The collar doesn't let him be lazy about it, really, but his shoulders and hips square out, propped up neatly.

"Not bad," says Steve, lifting his feet up off the floor and setting them down in the center of Bucky's back, crossed at the ankle.

Bucky lets out a soft grunt, readjusting his weight before going still again.

"Hey, JARVIS, resume Planet Earth, please."

"Yes, sir."

The TV turns on, accompanied by the soothing voice of David Attenborough. Steve keeps one eye on the documentary, while the other watches out for Bucky.

Steve's done similar things like this before, knowing how easily Bucky spaces out, but usually he's not in a particularly demanding position. He's kneeling on thick carpet, but he's going to get sore more quickly than usual.

Still. Steve sees it sweep over Bucky’s body when he disengages, his eyelids drifting shut, his breathing shifting slow and ragged. He's drooling down his chin, making soft noises he's probably not totally aware of. His head keeps wanting to lower, dip and sag between his shoulders, but the collar keeps his head held high, denying him comfort.

While making good use of him, Steve is careful not to dig his heels in, changing position to keep from applying weight in one spot on Bucky's back.

"Think you could replace the coffee table at home?" murmurs Steve. "Permanently? You talk too much for that, even when your mouth is full. Imagine that? Furniture that squirms and moans."

Bucky twitches like he wants to move or complain or both. He keeps still, though, staring straight ahead. The tremble of his body rustles all the chain links dangling from his limbs and nipples.

"Even when you try to be quiet you're still the loudest thing in the room to me." Steve lifts his feet, plants them on Bucky's side, and knocks him over.

Bucky’s reaction is delayed, falling over with a soft thump, limbs akimbo as he sucks in a shocked gasp. When he blinks and finally looks up at Steve, his outrage is adorable. "Hmmrgh!"

"Oh yeah?" mocks Steve. "Keep it to yourself. If I wanted to hear you speak, I’d tell you what to say."

Bucky hmphs, his pout always so exaggerated, and Steve can’t help his answering grin. He gets down on the ground and pushes Bucky flat, caging him in. "You want that mouth to get some use, I can help you with that."

Deftly, he takes the key for the padlocks out of his pocket and unlocks the collar, easing it off, and then he undoes the straps holding the silicone cock in Bucky's mouth, setting it aside, too. Bucky groans softly, his jaw obviously sore, though Steve doesn't intend to give him much of a break yet. Easing down his sweats, Steve gives his own cock a few quick strokes, pins Bucky's arms to his sides with his knees, and feeds him his cock.

Bucky gurgles sweetly.

"See?" asks Steve. "You're useless, aren't you? Can't even keep quiet with my dick in your mouth."

Another soft sound tries to escape, but Steve smothers it with a deep, slow push.

Bucky's eyes roll back, lashes fluttering. He jostles Steve as he lifts his hips into the air to no avail, the soft clink of his chastity device letting Steve know it's still firmly in place. Bucky's cheeks bulge and Steve gets a solid grip on his longer hair, tangling it around his fingers to tip Bucky's head up for the right angle.

"There, something you can't fuck up," mutters Steve.

And, really, there’s not much Bucky can do in this position, pinned flat, mouth stuffed with Steve’s dick. He whines softly, his lashes spiked with tears. As Steve rolls his hips again, fucking into him, Bucky’s throat relaxes and he swallows around Steve’s cock.

"There you go," says Steve. "Easy, now, Buck. That’s it. You’re good at taking it, huh? Just letting me in. Good boy."

Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut at the praise, tears rolling over his cheeks. He groans helplessly, open and easy.

"That’s it," repeats Steve, mostly talking to himself. He keeps his grip tight in Bucky’s hair, holding him still, rocking his hips in a smooth rhythm. Bucky’s mouth is hot and slick, wrapped so snug around Steve; he’s receptive to Steve’s demanding presence in a way that feels organic, each little part of themselves filling the gaps in the other.

Steve’s arousal builds with a prickle at his hairline and in the base of his belly, pleasure warming him from the inside out. He starts slow but quickly picks up speed when it becomes clear that Bucky is thriving on the rough treatment and interruptions to his airflow. The rougher Steve is and the harder he snaps his hips, the more Bucky reacts, crying out high and loud as he widens his jaw and tightens his throat.

When he’s seconds from letting go, Steve slaps his hand over Bucky’s face and holds him flat to the floor, thrusting in deep and spilling down Bucky’s throat.

He pulls out a moment later, come streaking across Bucky’s cheeks and lips as he coughs and sputters, gasping raggedly.

"What a mess you are," growls Steve, cupping his jaw in both hands and diving in to kiss him harshly. Licking his own come off Bucky’s teeth, Steve holds him steady, letting him breathe.

Bucky sputters, his eyes wide and hazy, pupils big and dark. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth slack. He’s a pliant heap, slick with sweat and come, an uneven flush over most of his body.

Steve's heart squeezes. Every time he pauses a beat, a single second, he can't quite believe everything aligned the way it did. On arguably one of the worst days of his life, he met the love of his life and almost ruined any chance of discovering that. But something—

Luck, fate, pure crazy fucking chance—

Something put Bucky in his path again and again until Steve seized his opportunity with both hands, grabbed on and refused to let go of him, just the same as Bucky did to his heart.

His lips graze Bucky's jaw, the underside of his chin, his throat, and the side of his neck, a wordless prayer of thanks. He drifts under Steve's benediction, breaths turning deep and regular. Bucky turns his face toward Steve, seeking affection and reassurance, and Steve isn't inclined to deny him. When their lips meet again, Bucky makes such a soft, hitching sound that Steve could listen to nothing else for the rest of his life and be more than satisfied.

They kiss for long enough that Steve's knees grow stiff and sore against the floor, and he's sure the carpet has ceased to be comfortable for Bucky. With effort, Steve pulls back and pushes himself up before he reaches down and helps Bucky to his feet too. He gives them both a moment to steady, to regain balance and bearing.

Several seconds slide by but eventually, Bucky's eyes regain some of their focus and he lifts them to Steve's. "Hey."

"Hey." Steve chuckles warmly, his hands wandering over Bucky's body, greedy for him. He squeezes a handful of his bouncy little ass, dragging him closer. His other hand cups the side of Bucky's neck, his thumb under his jaw to tip his head back. "You ready for me to be done with you?"

Bucky's eyes narrow and he angles his head back even more, baring his throat. "Never."

"Insatiable."

"Your fault," mumbles Bucky, but his words quickly resolve into a moan as Steve's mouth descends on his throat again, teeth scraping over the delicate skin.

"Is it?" teases Steve, nipping sharply at his smooth jaw. "Bit rich, blaming me for the gift you gave me."

"Corrupted me," mumbles Bucky, his mouth curled into a goofy grin. He’s still a bit spacey, short on words, but he’s present in his body. Steve wants to hold him, so he does, scooping Bucky into his arms, supporting his weight under his back and his knees in a bridal carry.

"Just dug out some latent desires," allows Steve, carrying him to the couch and then sitting down with Bucky in his lap. "Nothing that wasn’t already there, I bet. You come up with those dirty little fantasies of yours with no help from me, honey."

"Active imagination," says Bucky, squirming a bit in Steve’s arms. He’s still locked into the belt and the restraints, surely a little hot and bothered from Steve’s rough treatment. Steve wants to mess with him more, push his limits, but they both need a short break.

Steve presses a kiss to his forehead. "The next time you do something like this, Buck, and you get yourself ready for me as a surprise—"

"I set a mean precedent," huffs Bucky. "I can’t top this, short of findin’ someone to help tie me down to our damn bed, writhing on the end of a—"

"Hey," Steve says sharply, muzzling him quick with the palm of his hand and the firm press of his thumb and forefinger like he would to DeeDee if he caught her eating something she shouldn’t. At least he doesn’t have to dig into Bucky’s mouth to pull out a bit of trash or plastic. Not that Bucky would probably resist if Steve wanted to shove his fingers into his mouth to the point of discomfort. He’s weird like that. "Hush. Don’t interrupt. And don’t ever let someone touch you like that unless we rig something up together, all agreed, clear?"

Bucky mumbles something completely unintelligible.

"What was that?" asks Steve primly, removing his hand.

"I said, I know that, I wasn’t serious. Wouldn’t do that." Bucky snuffles at his shoulder, pressing in close for reassurance, and Steve gives it to him, cuddling him tightly. "Bad joke."

"You’re fine," murmurs Steve. "I don’t expect surprises like this, either way. I just meant, if you do ever pull a stunt like this again, all alone, take a video next time, would you? So I can see you get ready."

"Oh," mumbles Bucky, hiding his face. "Oh."

"Yeah." Steve grins crookedly. "Oh. Brat."

"Your brat, though."

"Yeah."

"Wanna fuck with me some more?"

"Don’t sound so eager."

"Why not?"

"You should be more careful what you wish for."

Steve very much does want to fuck with Bucky some more. He’s dished himself up on a silver platter to Steve, an eager participant that seems to thrive on denial and negative consequences.

It’s midmorning by now and Steve would normally be heading out to walk DeeDee before lunch. Bucky spoils that dog worse than Steve does, so Steve's certain he made sure she was taken care of this morning before bringing Steve his present.

Petting a hand through Bucky's hair, he kisses his temple. "You walk DeeDee already?"

"Yeah," sighs Bucky, looking seconds away from falling asleep. "Went for walkies and then took her out to her pen. I gave her breakfast and one of the special chews."

"Thoughtful."

Bucky hums, eyes closed.

Well, if DeeDee's already had her walk, it would stand to reason Steve should see to his other puppy.

They sit for a while longer, spending several minutes continuing to cuddle while Steve traces slow patterns across Bucky's back. Eventually, though, he gets them both up, giving Bucky a chance to use the restroom unsupervised while he gathers up Bucky's discarded restraints.

When he's all finished, he locks Bucky's cock away again while Bucky watches with interest, already breathless when he asks, "What are you gonna do with me next?"

"Whatever I want," he says simply and drags Bucky through the house to the front door.

He has Bucky kneel while he gags and collars him, letting the confusion build as he turns to rummage around in DeeDee's supply chest nearby. Bucky continues to watch with comically big eyes from the floor like Steve is going on some big trip and Bucky doesn’t get to go with him.

Judging by the look of frankly hilarious shock that crosses his face, though, he’s probably not expecting Steve to return to him, pull him up to his feet once again, and then clip a spare leash to the d-ring of his collar.

"There we go," says Steve brightly. "Time for your walk, little pup."

Bucky makes a low, punched out noise, his cheeks flushing red above the straps of the gag.

Steve pulls the leash taut. "Outside. Come."

It’s warm and sunny outside, the house protected from the ocean breeze by the surrounding forest of thick trees; Bucky follows Steve out onto the deck obediently, his eyes glassed over. He just blinks when Steve asks him if he’s warm enough, so Steve watches him carefully for signs of chill or discomfort as he leads him firmly around the property.

Two laps of the house at the end of the leash is enough for Bucky to sag back into helpless submission, gazing at Steve with wide eyes like Steve could take him for a run on a public beach and he wouldn’t even bat an eyelid.

"Dumb," he mutters happily.

Bucky just makes a soft, curious noise, blinking slowly at Steve. It's too fucking cute.

He bundles Bucky inside after and insists on rubbing him down with a dry towel like he didn’t just blindly trot after Steve with stars in his eyes and instead rolled in the mud like a naughty puppy. It draws discomfited little squeaks out of Bucky as the fabric catches at his sun-warmed skin and Steve ends up pushing Bucky over the back of the couch with a hand on the back of his neck and fucking him like it’s another item on his daily to-do list.

Bucky does not get to come.

He fucks Buck a third time during lunch, sprawled in the armchair with Bucky straddling his hips and bouncing desperately on his dick while Steve eats a sandwich and does his very best to ignore him, brushing crumbs off his abdominals.

It’s probably the best birthday present Steve’s ever gotten, the morning filled with lazy sadism and warm, tender affection.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? Steve's never been able to embrace his own instincts the way he can with Bucky, lean into every feeling, chase ever desire. He doesn't have to shy away from the gentle protectiveness he feels or resist the urge to bring tears to Bucky's eyes with harsh punishment. He doesn't have to choose.

Bucky makes it easy, welcomes it, encourages it. Steve can dole out whatever he wants, whatever he needs to give and trust that Bucky will take it in stride and tell Steve if he hits a limit but never reject him for needing it at all.

Bucky wants all of him and it blows Steve's mind, consumes him.

Fuck, thinking too hard about the way he loves Bucky feels terrifyingly fragile, like being aware of the need to breathe. It's so natural, so instinctual he's not sure how it works except that it does. He loves Bucky, and Bucky—

Bucky loves him back.

That night, when they’re finished playing and all the toys are put away, Steve’s reading in bed as Bucky takes a shower. Earlier, he relented and let DeeDee up onto the foot of the bed instead of bedding her down in her crate, and when Bucky emerges from the bathroom scrubbing at his hair, he raises his eyebrows at the lump of fur sleeping on Steve’s feet and says, "You’re just a total sucker, aren’t you?"

Steve gives Bucky his best faux disapproving look over the tops of his reading glasses. "Excuse me? I made you cry, earlier."

Bucky snorts. "Like that’s hard." He hangs the towel up on the back of a chair and rustles around, pulling on clean pajamas. As he rounds the side of the bed, Steve lifts the covers for him, Bucky squirming under Steve’s arm and leaning his head on his chest. "You’re gonna spoil her. She’ll learn bad habits."

"I spoil you," murmurs Steve. "And you’re fine."

"I’m self-aware," says Bucky. “I don’t need a treat in return for a high five.”

"Hmm." Steve kisses the top of his damp head. "I think you’re just as bad as me with her, anyway."

"No proof," mumbles Bucky. His eyes are closed and he’s warm and snug against Steve, their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces. "Today was fun. I missed that."

"Me too," says Steve. "We can do that whenever you want, Buck."

"Yeah," says Bucky. He sounds a little fuzzy as he gets sleepier. "We can. I love you."

It’s still such a pleasant little fizz of joy in his heart, hearing Bucky say the words, casual as anything. Steve rubs his cheek against the top of Bucky’s head. "I love you, too."

Bucky makes a tiny, happy noise, almost asleep.

Steve holds him close. If anyone here is spoiled, it's Steve and he knows it. He won't be taking it for granted.