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At first, Bucky thinks he’s dreaming.
But after subtly pinching his thigh under the table, he confirms that he, indeed, is actually at dinner with a prostitute. Technically an ‘escort’, but Bucky’s not an idiot.
Steve--who gave his full name as ‘Steve Rogers’, but who knows if that’s a pseudonym or not--looks nervous. “I thought you knew,” he says uncomfortably, fidgeting. “I was told--” He trails off without finishing the thought.
Bucky is self-aware enough to know that Steve is exactly his type--artistic, intelligent, muscular, and witty. The blonde hair and blue eyes help, and so does the easy conversation that had carried them through wine, appetizers, and most of the main course. A conversation that was going well until this bombshell.
“So,” Bucky says slowly. “Natasha paid you to do what, exactly? Just have dinner with me?”
Steve flushes. It only serves to make him more attractive. “She paid me my going rate for a whole night,” Steve admits. “But she said I didn’t actually have to--do anything. Just--whatever you wanted.”
“Right,” says Bucky shortly. “Whatever I wanted.” Well, that didn’t sound coercive at all.
Steve lets out a little noise of disgruntlement. “Within reason,” he says shortly.
They stare at each other for a moment. Bucky’s left hand is tucked firmly under the table. He hasn’t ungloved it yet, though he was thinking about it. Now he’s considering it again, but for entirely different reasons. The metal arm tends to scare people off. Or draw them in, depending. He might’ve blamed his recent loss and acquisition of the limb for the lack of sex over the past two years, but it’s just the cherry on top of the cake.
Speaking of cherries…
“Alright, Steve,” says Bucky cheerily, picking up his fork once more. “How’d you get into this line of work?”
Steve blinks. And then a slow smile steals over his face, like the ones that had sprung up at the start of this faux date. “Well,” he says. "You’re not the first person to have asked me that. You want the truth or the lie?” He pauses for a split second. “The lie’s half-priced.’
Bucky laughs. Steve grins.
The rest of dinner goes wonderfully. It’s only when they’re exiting the restaurant, Bucky’s arm still disguised, does Bucky hint towards the possible future of the evening.
“Would you do something for me?” he asks Steve as they stand on the edge of the city sidewalk. They’re close enough that Bucky can feel the heat radiating off of Steve’s body.
“Sure,” says Steve, smiling brightly. “What’s your poison?”
“Well,” says Bucky slowly. “I hear you’re in the area of fantasy fulfillment.”
Steve laughs, and his pupils blow wide. He inches closer. “Tell me more,” he says, dropping his voice. Bucky shivers. Oh, this is going to be good.
It’s nearing eleven when Bucky swings his car around the corner, going from a busy two-way street to an almost abandoned one-way. He slows to about twenty miles per hour, wary of unexpected potholes and rough road. At such a speed, it’s no issue spotting the figure standing on the sidewalk, one hip cocked deliberately.
Bucky slows to a stop, and rolls down his window.
Steve steps up. “Hey there, sailor,” he coos, and Bucky’s hit by a rush of lust that runs right down his spine. This is--better than he expected. “Looking for a good time?”
“Looks like I found it, doll,” Bucky manages. “Want to hop in?”
Steve flutters his eyes, which should look ridiculous, but it doesn’t. Even in the collared shirt and khakis. It really, really doesn’t. “Ma always told me never to get into a stranger’s car.”
Bucky grins. “She also probably told you never to talk to strangers, and well, here we are.”
Steve seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs his broad shoulders. He tugs at the door handle, and hops neatly into the passenger seat. For such a big guy, he moves extremely gracefully. Bucky wonders if that transfers directly to bed. “Where we headed?”
“Just a couple of blocks from here,” Bucky says, and waits for Steve to put on his seatbelt before he starts driving. He barely catches the amused glance Steve shoots him, and has to fight the urge to chuckle.
They sit in comfortable silence for the duration of the short ride. Bucky’s never picked up a prostitute before, so he’s letting Steve take the lead to keep up the illusion. He told Steve he wanted this, just to see if he’d really do it. But Steve was easily game, and admitted it might be fun. “I don’t always get picked up by the most attractive guys,” he had admitted outside the restaurant. “It might be nice for a change of scene.”
“Are you calling me scenery?” Bucky had said teasingly.
Steve had laughed. “Attractive stage dressing.”
And now, here they are. Bucky parks his car in the underground garage, and then he leads Steve through the small lobby and into the elevator. The moment the doors slid close, Steve is on him.
He pushes him up against the wall, hands firm on Bucky’s shoulders, before nosing down Bucky’s neck. Bucky shivers. He’s good.
“Whaddya want, big boy?” says Steve, and his warm breath whispers over Bucky’s skin, raising goosebumps. “You’re got me for the whole night, you know. How long are you gonna make me beg for it?”
Bucky breathes deep into the lust. “Maybe I’ll give it to you right away,” he says softly, tucking his right hand around the nape of Steve’s neck. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t like it so much by the third time, though. Or the fifth.”
Steve whimpers. It’s probably not real, but Bucky doesn’t even care. This is fantasy fulfillment through and through, and Steve’s already given informed consent. There’s one more hurdle to jump, but if they can get past that one, it’s smooth sailing from there.
The elevator doors slid open on Bucky’s floor, and Bucky tugs the two of them through. He fumbles with his keys, but within mere minutes of entering, Bucky’s on the couch, kneeling up over Steve’s torso. Steve’s reaching for him, but Bucky forestalls him.
“One thing first,” he says seriously, and Steve stills. “I want to show you something. And I don’t want you to freak out. But I do want an honest reaction.”
Steve’s eyes narrow, wary. Probably not the best way to introduce it, but hell, Bucky’s head is buzzing. He’s itching with the need to get his hands on this man--yes, both of them--and he can’t think straight. Hah, not that he ever does.
Carefully, Bucky pulls the skin colored glove off his left hand. Steve scrambles back as he starts to peel it away, but then freezes when the metal is revealed. Neither of them move for several long moments after Bucky drops the false skin to the side.
“Is this okay?” he asks lowly. If Steve presents the slightest hint of discomfort, this is over. Bucky won’t be able to handle it.
But instead of disgust, Steve reaches out in fascination. “It’s beautiful,” he breathes, and threads his fingers through Bucky’s. Bucky’s eyes widen at the sight, and Steve gently turns their entwined hands from side to side. “Absolutely stunning. Bucky, how on earth--” He looks up at Bucky, blue eyes shining. He untangles their hands only to grab the metal wrist and draw Bucky’s fingers up to Steve’s red lips. Then, easily, he wraps his tongue around two of them, sucking them into his mouth.
Bucky gasps. Not only is the sensation overwhelming--tight, wet heat that presents only a prelude for what’s to come--but the sight itself is almost obscene. Carefully, Bucky moves his hand up and down, thrusting the two fingers in and out of Steve’s mouth. Steve’s eyes fall closed, and he moans.
“Fuck, doll,” says Bucky. “You love that, don’t you? God, you look so good with something in your mouth.”
Steve opens his eyes and carefully draws Bucky’s fingers away. “Maybe you better put something bigger in there, huh?”
Part of Bucky wants to laugh. The other part, well. It rises to the occasion.
“Maybe you better get on your knees,” Bucky says, but as Steve starts to slide off the couch, Bucky places a hand on his chest. “We should move this to the bedroom.”
They speed walk down the hallway, and Bucky only has a moment to consider the state of his room before they’re through the doorway. Steve doesn’t seem to notice the chair with dirty laundry hanging all over it, or the scattered shoes by the closet, or even the stand for Bucky’s prosthetic. He’s a man on a mission, and pushes Bucky to sit on the bed before sliding to his knees and reaching for Bucky’s zipper.
“Shirt first, darling,” says Bucky, and as Steve strips it off, fumbles in his nightstand drawer for condoms and lube. When he turns back, he’s momentarily blinded by Steve’s toned stomach and pecs. “Fucking gorgeous.” Steve blushes. It’s perhaps one of the most endearing things Bucky’s seen. “Can’t believe a prostitute’s still able to blush,” he says admiringly.
“Blame the Irish complexion,” Steve shoots back easily. He reaches out again, and this time Bucky lets him undo the button of his jeans, lets him yank them and his underwear down and off.
“Can you get my socks while you’re down there?” Bucky jokes, but Steve pauses, and looks up at him. And peels one off. Then the other. And lifts Bucky’s foot towards his mouth.
Bucky yanks it away. “No kink-shaming or anything,” he says quickly. “But uh, if you’re into that, we’d definitely have to talk about it beforehand.”
Steve chuckles and pats his knee reassuringly, breaking character. “Nah, not really my thing. Some guys like it, so, you know. Gotta cater to the masses.”
‘Well, right now, you’re catering to me,” says Bucky cheerfully, spreading his legs and leaning back on his hands. This conveniently ensures that Steve’s staring right at his dick, currently hard and leaking precome.
Steve’s eyes go wide. “Jesus, you’re big,” he says. “Condom?” Bucky tosses him one, and Steve unwraps it quickly. He’s obviously done it a million times, and the look of calculated seduction he sends up at Bucky is proof of it. Before Bucky can say a word, Steve leans forward and wraps his mouth around the head.
Bucky gasps. He can’t help it. The wet, hot heat enveloping his cock is better than anything he could have imagined. And right up there with the feeling is Steve’s fucking face as he takes him deeper, eyes fluttering in bliss. He gets one hand on Bucky’s thigh and the other around the shaft of his dick, pushes further down before pulling off.
“You can put your hand in my hair,” he says roughly. “Try not to yank too much.”
“I won’t,” says Bucky, and as a precaution, threads only his flesh hand through Steve’s soft strands.
Steve goes to fucking town, clearly determined to suck Bucky’s soul out through his cock. He goes deeper, and deeper, practically choking himself.
“You’re a fucking slut for it,” Bucky gets out. Steve moans, and the vibration drives Bucky even further off the cliff. “Yeah, you like it because you know it’s true. You’re practically made for this, with that mouth and your fucking plush lips, jesus . Come on, you can’t have a gag reflex by this point. Fucking choke on it, I know you want to.”
Steve gets his mouth all the way to Bucky’s pubic hair and somehow manages one last lick and that’s it, Bucky’s done for. He comes with a shout, grabbing on the bedsheet with one hand while managing to keep from gripping Steve’s hair through pure instinct. Steve doesn’t pull off until he’s completely finished, and then leaves him with one little kiss to the head of his dick.
“Fuck,” Bucky stutters out, and collapses backwards onto the bed.
“Leave my money on the nightstand, will ya?” says Steve, and pulls the condom off of Bucky. Over-sensitized, Bucky hisses.
“Get up here,” he demands, and Steve does, climbing over Bucky’s torso. “Do you kiss?”
Steve smirks. “You gonna get the prostitute off?” His voice is deliciously hoarse.
“Yeah, if you take off the fucking khakis,” says Bucky. Steve shucks them quickly, and returns to hover over Bucky’s torso. Bucky pulls him down and rolls them so that Steve’s back is tucked up against his chest, and he can reach his right hand around.
“We doing it like this?” asks Steve, clearly amused.
“You never answered my kissing question, and I wanted to remove the temptation,” Bucky answers honestly.
“Usually, no,” Steve admits, and then whines as Bucky gets a hand around his cock. “But for you--I’d make an exception.”
Bucky would absolutely deny everything if he was ever asked whether that answer made his heart melt. Good thing no one’s ever going to ask.
Bucky cranes his head and Steve cranes his, and they meet in the middle. Bucky fights to keep his concentration split between Steve’s cock and Steve’s mouth, but it’s the worst kind of multitasking, each good enough to distract him from the other. Eventually, Steve’s kissing gets sloppy enough that Bucky knows he’s close, and he breaks away to stroke just a little faster.
It’s not particularly fancy, but it doesn’t matter. When Steve comes, his eyes drop shut and his mouth opens wide, but he’s completely devoid of sound. It’s only after he's spilled itself over Bucky’s hand does Steve make noise--tiny little pants. Bucky kisses him again, and Steve flips over so they can make out until they cool down.
Finally, Steve breaks away. “Want a washcloth for that hand?” he asks. Bucky wiggles his fingers, stiffened by ejaculate, and screws up his nose.
“You stay here,” he says, and kisses Steve’s nose before finding his way to the bathroom. When he gets back, Steve has his eyes closed, and has curled his knees closer to his chest. Bucky has to pause to take it all in. A gorgeous man in his bed. A gorgeous man who hadn’t flinched at the sight of his metal arm, but hadn’t treated it like an instrument of kink. A gorgeous man who wasn’t just gorgeous, but funny and smart.
“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna do something about it?” says Steve without opening his eyes. Bucky chuckles and crosses the room. He hands the washcloth to Steve, who wipes himself down quickly, and then grabs Bucky’s hand to clean too. Bucky sits patiently.
When Steve finishes, he wields the washcloth awkwardly. “Where should I--” he starts, and Bucky takes it from him, throwing it to the floor and tackling Steve. Steve laughs as he goes over, and Bucky ends up nestled underneath his chin.
“You up for another round?” asks Steve, and nudges Bucky’s dick with his thigh. It perks up slightly in interest, and Bucky groans.
“Only if I can take you to dinner next Friday,” he says. “No strings attached, no money paid. Just you, and me.”
Bucky can practically hear Steve thinking. “I’m not going to give up my job for you.”
‘I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“It wouldn’t bother you that I was sleeping with other men? And women?”
Bucky props himself up on his elbows to stare Steve directly in the eye. “Honestly, I’m not sure,” he admits. “I’ve never been the jealous type, but I’ve only ever been in two other full blown relationships. But I want to try. I figure we should tackle obstacles as they come, you know? And I really want another date with you.”
Steve bites his lip, and then smiles slightly. “Alright,” he agrees, and it’s so easy . “And now speaking of coming--”
Bucky grins in anticipation. If this is just the beginning, he can’t wait to see what comes next.