It sat in Bucky’s mind, for a while; turned over and rolled around and twisted itself into the beginnings of a plan. Honestly, it’s not something he’d put much thought into before, not something that held any inherent appeal before he met Steve. But then, a lot of what gets his blood racing now are things he’d never considered before Steve.
He’d gone back and forth on the whole thing a few times, surprised by how much he found himself wanting to do it once the idea really took root, but uncertain of how to go about it; second-guessing if he could pull it off, if Steve would even want this from him…
But standing here now in front of the bedroom mirror; the unyielding pillar of Steve’s half-naked body behind him, Steve’s stare dragging heavy over his reflection…
Bucky rues every night he’s let go by without this.
He squirms, trying to press back against the warmth of Steve’s body; wanting to feel the heat of bare skin and taut muscle flush against his back, but the stilettos strapped to his feet are putting him off balance, and Steve hasn’t finished looking his fill yet, besides.
So Bucky stands there, trying not to disintegrate under the heat of Steve’s gaze, taking whatever Steve sees fit to give him.
Like his hands, sliding firm and possessive around Bucky’s body; thumbing at the tight peaks of his nipples through the sheer lace bralette, pushing the gentle curve of his pecs together in a feeble approximation of cleavage that makes Bucky’s breath hitch.
“Fuck, baby…” Steve sighs, something in the realm of reverent as his palms skim down
Bucky’s ribs and the firm, flat plane of his stomach; down to the midnight blue panties clinging to Bucky’s hips. He toys with the waistband, brushing his fingertips over the lace stretched tight across Bucky’s cock, and Bucky lets his head fall back, eyes drifting closed at the too-soft touch.
“Uh-uh, look at yourself,” Steve grips Bucky’s jaw tight and angles his face back down, that silk thread of command dropping his voice to the gutter, “you walk in here looking like this, you don’t get to play shy.”
He traces the obscene outline of Bucky’s dick swelling inside his panties, and Bucky swallows hard.
“Looking like what?” he breathes, wide-eyed like he doesn’t already know; like he didn’t spend hours agonising over every detail of his appearance just to have Steve look at him like this.
From the perfect knot of his hair, to his blackened lashes and plum-painted lips; over his lingerie and all the way down to the sheer thigh-highs clinging to his legs...Steve’s looking at him like he wants to ruin him, his hand slipping down to curl in a possessive grip around the column of Bucky’s throat.
“Like I paid for it,” his lips press hard against Bucky’s ear; thumb and forefinger sinking a little deeper into the tight-strung muscles up the sides of Bucky’s neck, and Bucky shivers.
He looks up from under his lashes at their reflection; sees the uninhibited want in Steve’s eyes, that absolute single-minded focus, and he bites back the smirk that threatens at knowing he’s responsible for it.
Steve cocks his head a little, searching Bucky’s face. “Is that what you wanna hear, princess? That you look like a whore?” His tone is vaguely mocking, but the intent is unmistakable - is this the game we’re playing? Am I reading this right? and Bucky has to tamp down the urge to get on his knees for him then and there.
He holds Steve’s gaze as he reaches a hand back to tap twice on Steve’s thigh - green, this is exactly what I want from you - and Steve keeps stride seamlessly, settling into his role like a second skin.
“I mean, Jesus,” he tuts, plucking at the strap of Bucky’s bra, “show up here with your tits out, and these fucking shoes…”
There’s a flicker of pause as he catches Bucky’s eye in the mirror, and it’s all the warning Bucky gets before Steve kicks at the back of his heel; wrapping an arm tight around Bucky’s waist to keep him upright when his knee gives at the sudden impact.
“Fuck,” Bucky gasps, his heartbeat stuttering as he lets himself be pulled firmly back against Steve’s body.
“You got any idea what you’re gettin’ yourself into here, sweetheart?” Steve hums against his shoulder, his voice nestled low in that sweet spot between threat and promise. “Didn’t anybody warn you what men like me want from girls like you?”
Men like me.
Jesus, Bucky wants to scream.
Men like Steve, who’ll fuck him like he owns it then spend the rest of the night curled around him like a shield, lips moving soft and worshipful over his spent body.
Men like Steve, who’ll have him sobbing on his knees in the bedroom all weekend, then send him off to class Tuesday morning with the love-struck grin and the you’re so fuckin’ smart baby, I’m so proud of you , and the promise me you’ll eat today, pizza doesn’t count.
There are no men like Steve, and fuck if that doesn’t make Bucky want to sprawl at his feet, at his mercy, needy and willing and wanton.
He turns in the circle of Steve’s arms, blinking up at him syrupy slow. “Oh, honey,” he drifts his hands up over Steve’s shoulders, up to scratch through the cropped-short hairs at the nape of his neck, “...you’ve never had a girl like me.”
Challenge sparks blatant in Steve’s gaze, his mouth turning up at the corners as his hands stroke soft down the curve of Bucky’s back. “That so?” He smirks, amused; drawing up every inch of height, every pound of mass he has over Bucky as he stares him down. “You gonna show me something I ain’t seen before, princess?”
He lifts a hand to toy absently with an errant lock of hair that’s escaped Bucky’s updo, twisting it gently around his fingers in a gesture at careful odds with the taunting edge in his tone, and Bucky feels it all the way down in the base of his spine.
“No,” Bucky shakes his head softly, a coy smile finding its way to his lips, “guy like you’s probably seen it all .” He catches Steve’s hand and pulls it carefully free of his hair, bringing it instead to his mouth; lapping his tongue in slow strokes against the tips of Steve’s index and middle fingers. “...I’m just gonna do it better.”
He swears he catches a crack in Steve’s composure at that, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of unchecked need, and it feels perversely like victory. This is his arena, Bucky thinks, as he takes Steve’s fingers into his mouth, working his tongue over them and sucking them down the back of his throat. This is where his power is, in the quiet groans Steve lets out when Bucky swallows around him; throat pulsing warm and tight.
“Slut,” Steve rasps, eyes locked on Bucky’s mouth as he sucks and swallows and hollows his cheeks, and Bucky can only hum his agreement.
“Mm, you got no idea.” He lets Steve’s fingers slip, spit-slick and lipstick stained, from between his lips, and drops to his knees on the hardwood floor. He’s slipping fast to the part he’s playing, and he doesn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes darken for it as he looks down at him, watching, waiting .
“See, I got this problem,” Bucky sighs, running his palms up Steve’s denim-clad thighs; up to set nimble fingers to work at Steve’s belt buckle, “this...oral fixation, as they call it.”
He unzips Steve’s fly and inches his jeans slowly down his legs, exposing the hard line of Steve’s cock inside his boxer briefs. The needy sound that creeps up Bucky’s throat at the sight is anything but voluntary, and he barely cages it in with teeth sunk hard into his bottom lip.
“It’s such a burden , this constant need to have something in my mouth,” he murmurs, hands gripping and squeezing at the thick-corded muscle of Steve’s thighs, at that strength buried just below the surface that makes Bucky’s stomach swoop every time it’s turned on him.
Steve’s never had to beg submission from Bucky, because his body does it for him; every fibre of Steve’s physical being built for dominance, and it trips some baser network in Bucky’s brain to give , to please, to submit to those feral urges.
And so he does.
He leans in and buries his face into the juncture of Steve’s thighs; breathing him in, rubbing his cheeks against Steve’s inner thighs, sighing pathetic sounds against his bare skin. He skims wandering hands up the backs of Steve’s legs, up under the fabric of his briefs, cupping the firm swell of his ass and kneading lazily at the muscles twitching beneath the skin.
Steve’s staring down at him with lips parted and pupils half-blown already; his hand threading its way through the coil of Bucky’s hair in a grip that’s much more about grounding himself than it is about control, and Bucky wonders for maybe the first time in their whole relationship if he might just outplay Steve this time.
“Wanna help a girl out?” Bucky breathes, blinking doe-eyes up at Steve as he runs his tongue up the clothed length of him, “gimme something to do with this mouth?”
Steve’s already dipping his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs and shoving them down his thighs before Bucky’s even got the question out; groaning at the sight of his cock spilling free and smacking softly against Bucky’s lips.
Bucky takes him in hand, stroking his tongue whisper soft, just once, over Steve’s sensitive tip. “I’ve got a little confession to make,” he murmurs, turning his face to nuzzle his cheek against the velvet warmth of Steve’s dick.
Steve’s jaw is clenched tight, his free hand balled into a fist at his side; his whole being radiating tension, anticipation. “What’s that, baby?”
“The thing is, I didn’t choose this lipstick for how it’d look on me...” Bucky turns his gaze upwards, letting his voice dip to a breathy whisper, “...I chose it for how it’d look on you. ”
And with his eyes fixed intently on Steve’s rapt face, he leans in, and kisses a near-perfect imprint of his lips onto the head of Steve’s cock.
Steve gapes down at the plum red stain like it’s a revelation, a faintly strangled sound catching low in his throat. “Jesus Christ, Buck.”
“Knew it’d be your color,” Bucky sighs, and with Steve’s hand winding a little tighter in his hair, he sets to work painting Steve’s cock with kiss after kiss after kiss ; smudging and overlapping and wearing fainter with every pass of his mouth.
Steve’s cussing softly under his breath, his hips giving aborted little twitches as he fights to stay still, and Bucky knows the picture he must make right now; can feel the mess he’s making of his own face, lipstick smudged to hell all down his chin. But he can’t give a fuck when Steve’s breathing this hard, looking this wild.
“Baby,” Steve groans quietly, desperately, like a plea he doesn’t want to have to make, and Bucky pulls back to swipe his tongue over the obscene masterpiece he’s made of Steve’s cock.
He looks up at Steve, takes in the tense set of his shoulders and the hunger clouding his eyes, and he feels powerful, feels bold in a way that has him straightening his spine and lifting his chin a little. “Somethin’ you want, Daddy? Somethin’ you wanna ask for?”
He’s pushing his luck and they both know it, but Steve just breathes a soft groan, pressing his thumb to the swell of Bucky’s lower lip until it slips inside his mouth. “Want this.”
It’s almost imploring, the way Steve’s looking at him, and it hits Bucky all the harder for how unfamiliar it is. But when Steve follows it up with a painfully soft “please?” Bucky caves like a house of cards.
“Bed,” he commands, planting his hands on Steve’s hips and urging him back until he drops to sit at the edge of the mattress. He untangles Steve’s jeans and underwear from where they’re caught around his ankles and tosses them aside, positioning himself between Steve’s spread thighs; gazing up at the fucking vision Steve makes like this.
His weight is braced back on his hands, drawing the muscles of his arms taut and pushing out the heaving swell of his chest. The warm glow from the bedside lamp catches on the ridges of his naked body, pooling shadows in the dips and valleys of his powerful frame, and he’s looking down at Bucky with such transparent expectation; such complete certainty that something really fucking good is coming his way. It’s a high all of its own, and Bucky’s mind is set on nothing short of ruin as he starts a slow glide of his hands up Steve’s legs.
From the ticklish skin of his ankles, up his shins, over his knees; brushing his thumbs in lazy circles over the soft flesh of Steve’s inner thighs, digging in a little when he reaches the spot that always makes Steve’s breath hitch. In the wake of his hands, he leaves warm, wet presses of his mouth; gentle strokes of his tongue and scrapes of his teeth, all the way up until he’s lapping at the swell of Steve’s balls, and Steve’s shifting impatiently, spreading his thighs wider and angling into the heat of Bucky’s mouth.
And fuck, but Bucky forgets how much he loves this. Steve’s dick in his mouth is one thing, but the gentle weight of Steve’s balls on his tongue, that skin so soft and vulnerable and sensitive? It sends Bucky a little, and he sets to tonguing up a spit-slick mess between Steve’s legs that sounds every bit as debauched as it feels.
And it is a mess - spit tinged pink from the remnants of Bucky’s lipstick dripping down Steve’s taint, making him squirm and twitch and throw his head back. Bucky doesn’t even consider how the hungry sounds he’s making must feel vibrating against Steve’s skin, but when he skates his fingertips up the straining length of Steve’s cock he can feel the evidence beading wet at the tip all the same.
“Feel good?” he hums as he angles in lower, shifting the press and stroke of his tongue down toward Steve’s asshole, and Steve splays himself wide for it; drops back onto his elbows and hikes a leg up over Bucky’s shoulder.
“So fuckin’ good, baby,” he pants, groaning at the firm, wet drag of Bucky’s tongue against his rim, “yeah, just like that...show Daddy how you eat it.”
He reaches a hand down to grip Bucky carefully by the hair, all but using his tangled grasp to rub Bucky’s face against himself, and Bucky gives himself over to it; opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue and lets Steve set the pace. He’s got about three brain cells focussed on moving the hand wrapped around Steve’s cock, and all the others zeroed in on eating Steve out with a slow-burning fervor that has them both rumbling pleasured sounds deep in their chests.
“Christ, your mouth,” Steve moans, “never had it so good, I swear to god.”
His cock is dripping shamelessly in Bucky’s grasp, his thighs tensing and quivering where they cage Bucky in, and Bucky’s so damn easy for it, that praise and that tangible proof that Steve means every fucking word. He makes a show of working his tongue in a slow, wet drag from Steve’s asshole all the way up the rigid length of his dick, closing his lips too damn soft around the tip before he pulls back, breathless.
“Bet you say that to all the girls.” His own neglected arousal is throbbing painfully between his legs, and he’s more aware by the second of the growing wet patch at the front of his panties. He shifts a little, squirming between Steve’s legs and huffing a soft, frustrated sound, and Steve stares down at him with a calculating look; eyes narrowing like he knows exactly what those little twitches of Bucky’s hips mean.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Steve coos, his eyes glinting as he props himself upright and slides his foot carefully between Bucky’s legs, nudging it up behind his balls, “Daddy’s balls in your mouth get your pussy all wet?”
...Bucky’s heart stops.
He gapes up at Steve, cheeks aflame, eyes wide; turning that one little word over in his mind and feeling the rush of it everywhere.
Steve’s expression stays open and playful as he waits, allowing Bucky a moment to feel out how this new element sits with him; waiting for a signal to either continue or change tack. And he would - even the vaguest hint that this is beyond Bucky’s intended scope for this role play, and Steve would drop it; keep things within the realm of what’s familiar, and check in with Bucky later to establish their boundaries moving forward.
But Bucky needs all of about three seconds to clock the way his entire body lights up for it, and he’s green-lighting so hard he’s practically neon.
“Fuck,” he whimpers as he rocks down shamelessly against Steve’s foot, hissing at the rub of his dick up against Steve’s shin, “you wanna find out?”
“Really? Just like that?” Steve presses his leg into the motion of Bucky’s hips, tutting in mock disappointment. “You that easy? A little friction on that sweet cunt and you’re ready to give it up?”
Bucky muffles a groan against Steve’s thigh, blushing six different shades of pink. Any illusion of power he was clinging to is long gone; was gone the second he started humping Steve’s leg, but he’s done playing like he doesn’t know who’s really in charge here, anyway.
“Yeah,” he concedes, looking up at Steve with the full spectrum of his desperation spelled out across his face, “I’m that easy. So what are you gonna do about it?”
Steve stares down at him for a weighted second, and then he’s curling his body forward and catching Bucky’s mouth in a kiss that’s nothing short of ravenous.
“Up, ” he growls into Bucky’s mouth, gripping Bucky under the arms and hauling him up into his lap.
And it’s all too willing, the way Bucky goes; clambering up, flushed and breathless, to splay his knees wide either side of Steve’s hips; throwing his arms around Steve’s neck and moaning at the rub of their cocks up against each other.
“Yeah, there you go,” Steve speaks wetly against Bucky’s lips, kissing him hot and open-mouthed, “you do what you need to.” He rocks up into the rolling grind of Bucky’s hips; running his hands up and down Bucky’s back, over his thighs, toying with the lace band at the top of his stockings and the high-cut edges of his panties.
Bucky shivers, every pass of Steve’s hands drawing his awareness to the places their skin isn’t touching, should be touching; separated by silken membranes of sheer mesh and lace that Bucky is regretting more by the second. “Fuck, I wanna feel you,” he groans, pressing and rubbing in close against Steve’s body, “I’m wearing too much.”
“You ain’t takin’ off a goddamn thing,” Steve growls, mouthing at the bud of Bucky’s nipple through his bra; tonguing the fabric until it clings wet to Bucky’s skin, and Bucky whines a pathetic sound of protest.
“Steve,” he squirms, arching into the wet press of Steve’s mouth, which would be so fucking perfect if Steve would just let him undress , “please , just--”
His back hits the mattress before he even registers that Steve’s flipping them; dragging Bucky up the bed and caging him in with the weight of his body above him.
“Not. a goddamn. thing.” Steve presses the words right up against Bucky’s ear, his voice dripping command and control. “You wanna walk in here lookin’ like I bought it? You fuckin’ act like it.”
He rolls his body down against Bucky’s, circling his hips in a close, tight grind, and Bucky moans with it. He’s breathing so hard, his heartbeat so loud in his own ears, that he almost misses the tiny “color? ” Steve kisses against his cheekbone.
“Green,” he gasps, tapping his hand against Steve’s back, arching up into his body; throwing every cue he can think of at Steve that he is so on board with this.
Steve hums a knowing sound into the crook of Bucky’s neck, mouthing kisses down the side of his throat, past his collarbone, over his tits. He works his way down Bucky’s body to the soaked lace of his panties, running his tongue over the wet spot before he pushes himself upright to kneel between Bucky’s spread thighs.
He keeps his gaze fixed on Bucky’s face as he slowly reaches over to grab something off the nightstand. Bucky doesn’t track the movement of Steve’s hand, but he squirms all the same for what he’s sure he’ll find nestled in Steve’s grasp. It’s a rush of want and relief and impatience, and he splays his thighs for what’s coming…
Until Steve pulls his hand back, and Bucky’s eyes fall to the brown leather wallet he’s clutching.
“Oh, fuck...” Bucky feels his eyes go wide, his breath halting in his chest as Steve nonchalantly opens the billfold; plucking out a few hundreds like it’s not borderline offensive to just have that kind of cash laying around.
“What’s this good for?” Steve holds up the bills pinched between his index and middle fingers, pinning Bucky with a look that’s cocky and goading and if we’re doing this, we’re doing this.
The sound Bucky makes in response is nowhere in the realm of seductive, but he’s not about to be beaten at a game that he started. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he lets his gaze rake slow down Steve’s body, leaving it to linger on Steve’s cock hanging heavy between his thighs. “Might get you somewhere warm and wet to stick that, if you ask nice.”
His voice is too breathless, too dripping with his own arousal to give any weight to the insinuation that Steve will have to work for it, but Steve’s eyes spark for the attempt anyway.
“Oh yeah?” Steve leans forward over him, bringing his face up close to Bucky’s. He pitches his voice low, secretive; colored with the barest tinge of condescension that sends a shiver across Bucky’s skin. “...What’ll it get me if I ask mean ?”
Bucky swallows the needy whimper that hitches in his throat, tensing against the involuntary arch of his body up towards Steve. He breathes for a moment, letting his tongue flick out to sweep across his bottom lip before he speaks; voice hushed and lashes lowered. “Well that’d get you just about anything you want, Daddy .”
Steve’s gaze flashes something bright and ill-intentioned. He slips his hand down between their bodies, tucking the cash under the waistband of Bucky’s panties. “Flip over. ”
Bucky gapes down at the cash nestled right up against the flushed head of his dick, cursing under his breath as he rearranges himself on trembling limbs; trying to catch neither the bedding nor Steve’s skin on the sharp points of his heels as he turns over.
Steve hums a pleased sound as Bucky gets his knees under himself, just right to bow his back into a deep arch.
“This,” Steve sighs heavily, palms settling warm on Bucky’s hips and sliding up to span his waist, thumbs pressing into the dip of Bucky’s spine. “Jesus...bitty fuckin’ waist and a fat ass...built for bad things , sugar...”
He gropes and squeezes at Bucky’s flesh, at the bare skin of his stomach and his lace-clad ass cheeks, and Bucky pushes back into it, whimpering soft sounds that grow to a belly-deep groan as Steve drapes himself flush against his back.
“Gimme your hand,” Steve murmurs, and Bucky pulls his hand out from where it’s resting under his cheek.
He holds it up, and Steve leans all the way over him to catch his index and middle fingers in his mouth; sucking and swirling his tongue around them until Bucky can feel the slick dribble of saliva all the way down his palm.
“Oh my god, ” he groans softly, half his awareness trained on Steve’s mouth, and the other half stuck on the sensation of his cock twitching and dripping up against three-weeks’ rent.
Steve just hums back at him, working Bucky’s fingers to a dripping mess, then pulling off with a loud slurp. He turns his face to press a wet kiss to the side of Bucky’s mouth, his cheekbone, up to nip breathlessly at the cartilage of Bucky’s ear. “Play with your pussy. ”
“Fuck,” Bucky rocks with the involuntary shudder that rolls through him, feeling the shift of bedding and the dip of the mattress as Steve moves back to give him room. He reaches behind himself with shaky, spit-slick fingers, looking back over his shoulder as he slips them under the fabric of his panties and circles them teasingly around his hole.
Steve’s eyes are glued to that spot, watching Bucky slowly start to work his fingers inside himself. “God, look at you,” he shuffles closer, running his hands up Bucky’s stocking-clad thighs, up to hook his thumb under the crotch of the panties and pull them aside.
He nudges his thumb up against Bucky’s rim, alongside Bucky’s own fingers, and a low moan slips past Bucky’s lips as he presses back into the added pressure.
“You want in me?” Bucky rasps, throwing a heavy-lidded look back at Steve as he rolls his hips. He drops his gaze to Steve’s erection; as obvious an invitation as he can make it, and Steve bites out a pained curse.
This time when he reaches for the bedside table, Steve dips his hand into the top drawer; keeping his movements slow and intentional as he brings out the lube and uncaps it with a flick of his thumb.
“My turn,” he nods down at Bucky’s hand, and Bucky slips his fingers out of himself with a relieved groan; pillowing his face on his forearms and angling his hips up higher for the nudge of Steve’s cock.
But what he feels instead is the slick press of Steve’s fingertips, two of them sliding inside of him with no preamble, stroking against his inner walls and hooking against his prostate.
“Jesus,” he jerks back against the sudden spike of pleasure, and Steve breathes a soft laugh.
“This what you wanted?” he asks, stroking his fingers in a rhythmic hit-miss-hit over Bucky’s prostate, winding Bucky higher and spurring the wrecked, pitchy moans falling from his lips.
Bucky tries for words but can only nod, can only breathe and rock his hips with the rhythm Steve sets. And god, but it’s so fucking good; heat coiling thick and fast between his thighs for how perfect Steve plays him, how he plucks at all his strings and makes music of the dirty things he wants.
He pushes up onto his elbows and glances back over his shoulder, groaning when he’s met with the sight of Steve gripping his own cock in his left hand, just holding as he works his fingers in and out of Bucky’s body.
There’s a flush sitting high on Steve’s cheekbones, his pink lips parted with his own unsteady breaths, and he’s looking at Bucky with pride and possession and so much want it makes Bucky’s head spin.
When he slips a third finger in alongside the others, Bucky’s knees give a little, splaying his thighs wider and deepening the curve of his back. He lets his head hang heavy between his arms; looks down between his legs at his cock, flushed and straining against the waistband of his near-ruined panties.
“Steve,” he gasps, his breath hitching as Steve rubs over his sweet spot.
“Mm, feels good huh? This what you need?”
Steve thrusts his fingers a little harder, a little faster, and Bucky chokes out an only vaguely coherent ‘yes’.
“Yeah it is,” Steve drawls, moving the hand wrapped around his own cock in a slow tug upward, “tell Daddy he’s good to you.”
“Oh,” Bucky lets his front half slump to the bed, cheek pressed into the mattress, “you’re so good to me, Daddy...”
“Say ‘thank you for making me feel good, Daddy. ’”
“Thank...thank you Daddy... fuck.” The warm, slow welling of tears gathering at the corners of Bucky’s eyes finally spills over, tracking black down his cheeks and onto the sheets. He swallows around the hitching sobs bubbling in his throat, tries to untangle the words, but Steve just hushes him softly.
“Oh, words are hard, huh?” He slips his fingers out with a slow tug against Bucky’s rim, leaving just the tip of his index finger hooked inside.
Bucky hears the flick of the lube cap a moment before he feels the cool drip of slick onto his hole, and then Steve’s pulling the fabric of his panties out of the way with his free hand and pushing the blunt head of his cock up against him, right alongside his finger.
“You want it?” Steve leans over to press the question quietly against Bucky’s spine, and before Bucky can get any words out by way of response, his body is answering for him, arching back against Steve with a deep shudder.
“Please,” he gasps, angling his hips to urge Steve deeper.
Steve kisses him between the shoulder blades, a lingering press of his lips before he straightens up again. “It’s all you, baby,” he holds there on his knees behind Bucky, unmoving, “have at it.”
Bucky throws a questioning look back at him, but Steve just raises a brow, flicking his gaze down to where their bodies are on the cusp of joining. He nudges his hips forward, just the tiniest twitch of movement, and Bucky whimpers as he catches Steve’s train of thought.
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
He pushes up onto hands and knees and locks out his trembling arms, and then they’re both groaning long and low as he starts sinking back onto Steve’s cock.
Steve’s cock, and Steve’s finger, which he leaves hooked just inside of Bucky, and it’s so perfectly on the knife edge of too much. By the time his ass cheeks are nestled all the way up against Steve’s hips, he’s dripped a Rorschach of mascara-tinged tears onto the white bedding beneath him.
“That’s it, princess, find the spot,” Steve coos as Bucky draws slow circles with his hips, rocking forward and tilting his pelvis trying to find the right angle, “write your name on Daddy’s dick, let everyone know it’s yours.”
“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky grinds back and rolls his hips, breathing out tiny frustrated huffs as he works for it, and Steve just holds there, humming encouraging sounds and making absolutely no move to help out.
It’s infuriating, and so much more arousing than it should be. Bucky drops his head down and sets a rhythm rocking back against Steve’s cock, changing up the angle of his hips every few strokes until he finds the one that steals all the breath from his lungs.
“Yeah, there you go,” Steve’s own voice is ragged around the edges, punctuated by the soft clap of skin hitting skin as Bucky hits his stride, throwing it back like he means it. “Look at you, takin’ what you want...who’s it for, Bucky?”
“For me,” Bucky pants, small and breathless as he bounces back against Steve with mounting determination.
Steve lets go of his panties to slide his palm up the length of Bucky’s spine, curling his hand in a firm grip on the back strap of Bucky’s bra. “Hm? I didn’t quite catch that,” he pulls Bucky back hard onto himself as he snaps his hips forward, “I said who’s it for, Bucky?”
“Fuck, it’s for me! Oh my god, please Steve...”
“Who loves you? ”
The question hits Bucky square in the chest and rushes down to twist heavy between his legs. His whole body is wound tight enough to snap; his arms and thighs shaking as Steve thrusts forward to meet his rhythm.
“Daddy ...Daddy loves me...fuck, I’m gonna come…”
“Are you?” Steve goads, smirk evident in his tone even if Bucky can’t see his face. “You gonna come on Daddy’s money?”
Bucky has all of about two seconds to consider the federal offence he’s about to commit before his orgasm is gripping him tight in the cradle of his hips. He chokes out a sound he didn’t realise he was capable of making, his arms all but giving out from under him, and Steve talks him through it; low rumbling sounds that Bucky can barely put together.
He lets himself be tipped over onto his back by the careful pull of Steve’s hands on his hips; sighing at the familiar weight of Steve settling on top of him with his face tucked into the crook of his neck.
“Wanna get off on you...” Steve pants against his skin, waiting for Bucky’s breathless nod of consent before he slips a hand down between them to reach for Bucky’s panties.
Not the waistband, as Bucky’s anticipating. Instead, Steve hooks a finger under the leg seam, and slips his own cock up underneath to rub off against Bucky’s spent, wet flesh.
“Oh, shit,” Bucky cranes his neck up to watch the shift of Steve’s cock beneath the fabric, so much more obscene for the way it’s obscured.
He feels debauched; cash rumpled and sticking to his balls and the crease of his thigh, his own come getting smeared all over his junk by the steady thrust of Steve’s cock up against his softening length.
There’s a ladder running up the inseam of his stocking, and the flimsy cups of his bra are sitting so askew that both of Bucky’s nipples are on display. If his panties aren’t already beyond the point of saving, they will be by the time Steve’s done with him, and Steve’s staring down at him like none of it is lost on him.
“Look so good like this, Buck,” Steve shakes his head softly, his brow knotting up as he stares down between their bodies. He’s breathing hard, flushed all the way down to his tits, and his hips are starting to twitch in a way that says he’s getting close to an edge Bucky desperately wants him to fall over.
He gazes up from the flat of his back, letting his body go limp as he’s rocked into the mattress by the push of Steve’s hips. “Steve?”
He waits for the older man to meet his stare before he cocks his head a little, letting his voice dip to something soft and breathless. “...Are you gonna come inside my panties?”
“Oh god, ” Steve bites out, the rhythm of his hips starting to stutter.
“I’ll let you do it,” Bucky breathes, “I want you to do it...come inside my panties Daddy, come on.” He slides his hands around Steve’s body to grip him by the ass, pulling him down hard against himself. “...If you fuck ‘em up good, I’ll let you keep them.”
Steve cries out as his body locks up, his cock twitching and spilling up under the ruined lace. Bucky touches breathless kisses to Steve’s cheek, his neck, his shoulder; any part of Steve he can reach as Steve comes back down, breathing soft moans and shuddering gasps.
“Goddamn,” Steve groans, his weight dropping down heavy on top of Bucky’s smaller frame.
Bucky huffs at the all-too familiar squish, wriggling himself into a breathable spot. “Knew that’d get you,” he swats weakly at Steve’s back, hooking an ankle over the back of Steve’s leg. “You’re disgusting, you know that? Dirty old man.”
“Mm, sure am,” Steve sighs, pressing a half formed kiss to the side of Bucky’s neck. “Nastiest you’re ever gonna get it, sugar.”
He props himself up on his elbows, rolling his shoulders and groaning softly at the pull and stretch of his exerted body. He squirms a little between Bucky’s legs, his brow furrowing as he shifts from side to side, and then he’s reaching down and plucking off a crinkled hundred half-glued to his hip.
“You’re not too smart, though...” Bucky hums nonchalantly, trying to school his features as he watches Steve scrape his thumbnail over the defiled note.
Steve’s gaze snaps back up to Bucky’s face, eyes narrowing and lips turning up at the corners. He settles back in with forearms either side of Bucky’s head, taking the bait with a quirked brow. “Oh? And why’s that?”
Bucky lets a grin break out across his face, looping his arms around Steve’s neck and leaning up to kiss his confession right onto Steve’s plush, smiling lips.
“...I woulda fucked you for free.”