Chapter Text
The first time Steve sees Bucky Barnes, he knows he is so fucked.
It’s not unusual to see other Stark Industries personnel going in and out of Tony’s lab – delivering shipments of parts, bringing projects from Research and Development for Tony’s assessment and feedback – but never before has Steve walked into the lab and seen someone set up at what appears to be their own work station, tinkering with mechanical parts Steve doesn’t recognize.
He can’t be older than 20.
Golden skin and grey eyes with sinfully long eyelashes, a chaotic nest of gelled curls on his head, wearing an almost-transparent grey t-shirt paired with impossibly tight black jeans over his endless legs. He looks up when Steve comes into the lab – summoned by Tony to check out the latest suit redesign – and bites down on his plush lower lip and smiles shyly at Steve.
So, so fucked.
“Hey,” the kid says easily, and he is a kid because he’s at least ten years younger than Steve, and Steve should really not be staring at his mouth. “Looking for Tony? He got a call from Pepper and disappeared, so… he could be back in a minute or like, never.”
“Oh. Okay. I was just – I mean, nothing important. I’m fine. It’s fine,” Steve says haltingly, like a grade A moron.
“I’m Bucky, by the way. Bucky Barnes,” the kid – Bucky – says, rising out of his seat and coming around the desk with his hand held out. He’s got grease on his very attractive hands that somehow make them more attractive.
“Steve Rogers,” Steve says automatically, putting out his own hand.
“Yeah. I mean, I know,” Bucky says with an easy laugh, and they shake hands.
Bucky’s index finger strokes over the pulse point on the inside of Steve’s wrist.
“Are you working for Stark, or…?” Steve asks, snatching his hand back and trying to make it seem smooth and natural. That had to have been an accident, right?
“Kind of. I won the Stark Award for Innovation in Robotics for my doctoral research?” Bucky says, like it’s a question. “So Tony wanted to see what I was working on, you know, took an interest in it, and invited me to work out of his lab.”
Doctoral research, Steve thinks. That’s grad school. This kid looks like he couldn’t have finished his undergrad, but he probably just looks young for his age. Okay. He can deal with that. His brain is still fizzing with inappropriate lust but if Bucky is actually 25 or something he feels a lot better about it.
“Capsicle! I see you’ve met my protégé, the wonder child, my new favorite – offence intended,” Tony calls, emerging from one of those many hidden doors dotted around his lab that Steve doesn’t understand the purpose of. “He almost beat my record, you know – just got his doctorate at two months past 20. I managed it two months before 20. Alas, you will always be trapped standing in my shadow, Buckaroo.”
Fuck, thinks Steve. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck damn Christ on a cracker fuck.
Tony crosses to stand beside Bucky, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder and smiling widely. Steve’s own smile feels frozen on his face.
“Yeah, what a damn shame that I graduated from MIT and have been invited to work with Tony Stark when I am so positively ancient,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll probably expire of old age before I can even get anything done and nobody will notice because of that blanketing shadow you cast.”
“What are you working on?” Steve manages to ask like a normal person, and tries not to stare when Bucky swipes his tongue over his lower lip.
“Neuro-cybernetic prosthesis for amputees,” Bucky says, eyes lighting up over the topic. “My dad was a vet and lost his arm before he died – I’m working on robotic prosthetics that have a neural uplink, so they move and act like the limb they’re replacing.”
“I’m kind of a natural mentor for this kind of thing,” Tony says, and it would sound like a brag if it weren’t so obviously true. “And with Bruce in the building too… Buckmeister is staying on the residential floors with us while he’s here. Cap. Cap. You should show him around. You need a sidekick, just like the comics!”
Oh good. Bucky is living here.
“My boy sidekick in the comics was 12,” Steve says flatly. His brain helpfully reminds him that Bucky is only just barely out of his teenage years.
“Yeah but I look much better in booty shorts,” Bucky says, and it might be a joke except he gives a small wink to Steve that Tony misses.
And then Tony is dragging Steve off to look at the new armor plating he’s made for the suit out of some alloy Steve’s never heard of, and Bucky goes back to his work station with a coy smile, and when Steve looks back over his shoulder Bucky is heatedly watching his ass. Steve does not listen to Tony at all, and when he finally manages to escape he goes back to his floor to sit on his couch and take very deep breaths.
Steve is nearly 30 years old and not publically out as bisexual. He cannot fuck Tony’s boy genius protégé. No matter how much the kid makes sex eyes at him. And strokes his wrist with his finger. And makes suggestive comments while winking at him.
Fuck.
*
Steve sets himself a mission to surreptitiously get intel on Bucky for the sole purpose of avoiding him. Google tells him that Bucky graduated high school at 15, followed by both undergrad and graduate studies at MIT with a full ride scholarship for both. Jarvis tells him that Bucky is originally from Brooklyn, but he and his mother and sister moved back out to Indiana when his father died when Bucky was a teenager – makes sense, then, that Tony would offer a place in the residential floors while working here.
Over coffee when Steve casually mentions meeting Bucky, Pepper is happy to expound on what a lovely kid he is – none of Tony’s ego over his IQ there – and how Stark Industries will ultimately fund the cybernetic prosthetics program if Bucky can develop a working prototype. From Natasha, who gives him a very knowing look that he doesn’t much like, he learns that Bucky is on the third of the residential floors, which are divvied up into normal apartments rather than a whole ridiculous floor like the Avengers each get.
“He asked me to spar – I respect that,” Sam says, about meeting Bucky in the gym. “I mean I took that kid down, but I still respect that.”
Steve can’t think about Bucky sparring or his brain will blow a fuse and he’ll die.
Steve successfully avoids Bucky until he unsuspectingly walks into the usual Avengers’ movie night almost a week later. He doesn’t know why he didn’t realize Bucky would be there – it’s never just the Avengers present, but pretty much anyone they know or have befriended. Tonight, Thor and Jane are curled up together, because Tony has finally wooed Jane with huge sums of money for her research probably, and that means her intern Darcy is there, and Darcy’s intern Ian (Steve does not understand). And Natasha, and Clint, and the other Hawkeye (?) Kate, and Maria and Rhodey and Sam and Tony and Pepper and… Bucky.
Bucky. Sitting with his legs tucked up and a blanket over his lap on one of the many sprawled sofas, next to the only empty seat.
Steve tries to play it cool. The movie has already started – Natasha chose Alien which he already suspects is a bad choice, all things considered – so Steve grabs a bowl of popcorn and a soda in the darkened room and ducks over to the empty seat beside Bucky, and tries to subtly plaster himself to the armrest and as far away from Bucky as possible.
It is a small sofa. Steve is a large man. Bucky is not trying to generate space between them, the way Steve is, so even with all his efforts they’re still practically brushing shoulders. Steve can’t help himself – eyes darting over to one bare foot poking out from underneath the blanket, up to the sharp points of Bucky’s collarbones in the V-neck of his t-shirt, to the shine of his eyes from the oversized screen.
Their sofa is at the back of the room. Nobody is watching them.
“Are you cold?” Bucky whispers as, onscreen, the crew started waking up. “Here, have some blanket.”
Bucky holds out an edge of the voluminous fuzzy blanket he’s got, obviously thinking that Steve is huddling against the other end of the sofa because of a chill in the air. And Steve can’t think of a reason that isn’t awkward or nonsensical to say no, so he silently takes the offered edge and drapes the blanket over his lap. It makes a little tent in the space between them.
He tries to focus on the film. Closer to the screen, Bruce, Tony and Jane are making running commentary about the logistics of interstellar space travel, while Natasha, Kate and Darcy seem to be trying to lodge as many pieces of popcorn on Clint’s person without him noticing as possible, as he’s deeply engrossed in the film. Maria seems to be napping, even through the loud dramatic music, and Steve thinks it says a lot that nobody dares to try to throw popcorn into the collar of her shirt.
Bucky seems to be slowly migrating closer to Steve without visibly moving.
He stares straight ahead but none of his attention is on the movie. He can’t think what to do, mostly because part of him really wants to find out what Bucky is going to do. Not much, probably, with a room full of people, but just the possibility has his heart thumping in his chest like a bass drum. He casually turns his head – nearby and slightly in front of them, Sam and Rhodey have their heads bent together in conversation. No help there. Pepper is indulgently smacking Tony’s arm over something he’s said while Thor argues the finer points of cooking some previously unheard of animal on a slow roast for 30 days. Clint has noticed the popcorn and is simply eating it.
Right when the alien bursts out of a man’s chest, Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s thigh. Very high up on Steve’s thigh. Almost touching his dick kind of high.
He has possibly been half-hard for quite some time, and this makes blood rush to his cock at a rate that is dizzying.
Bucky is still looking straight ahead, like maybe he’s engrossed in the film or watching the interactions of the other Avengers, but his fingers are stroking over the tensed muscles of Steve’s thigh like he’s playing in the piano. Steve doesn’t dare look straight at him, kind of turning his head in a way that could be mistaken for just glancing over the room in general, and out of the corner of his eye sees Bucky’s mouth turned up in a tiny smirk.
Then he drags the heel of his palm up to press down directly over Steve’s cock.
Jesus.
Steve catches his wrist under the blanket, being careful not to hold too tight but keeping a vice-like grip. Not pulling his hand away, but not letting him move it any further. Steve breathes carefully, because if he doesn’t focus on his breathing he’s going to let out a moan and the whole room will know that the 20-year-old intern is trying to give him a handjob under a blanket in a crowded room and he wants it.
Bucky turns his head, finally looking at Steve, and simply closes his fingers over the shape of Steve’s erection through his jeans and squeezes. Steve does make a little noise then, just a harsh exhalation of breath, but he can’t take his eyes off Bucky long enough to look around and see if anyone heard.
Bucky leans into him then, puts his mouth against Steve’s ear so his breath puffs over the shell of it, and says, “You could give me a present. Something to make me happy. And I’d let you do whatever you wanted.”
Steve’s hips jerk, and Bucky squeezes his cock again before letting go, and he draws his wrist out of Steve’s hand with a sultry stare, biting down on his lower lip suggestively. Steve feels shocked, feels dizzy and a bit horrified – because having Bucky suggest that kind of arrangement should not turn him on so damn much. He should be having some kind of reaction other than staring at Bucky with breathless want, because… because that is wrong, and Bucky is way too young, and oh god Steve wants it.
The twenty-first century didn’t invent the sugar daddy, and Steve’s pretty sure that’s exactly what Bucky is implying he wants from Steve.
Bucky slips out of the blanket and off the sofa, going to get himself a soda, and when he comes back he doesn’t draw the blanket back over his lap, and instead watches the rest of the film attentively. Steve sits beside him in silent agony, wanting to touch and knowing he shouldn’t.
*
He’s not going to buy Bucky a present.
He’s definitely not going to do it, Steve tells himself two days later, standing in the menswear section of Macy’s, eyeing off a beautifully cut and tailored black wool coat.
That would be dumb. Buying a present for Bucky would mean he… what? Wants to make Bucky happy with ridiculously expensive presents he might want but doesn’t actually need? Wants to see how far this little game playing on their age and status difference goes? Wants to fuck Bucky into next week and kiss him all over and call him his precious boy?
Yes. Yes to all three.
He squints at the coat, trying to imagine if it’s Bucky’s size. Probably. He’s not even going to buy it so it doesn’t matter if he determines what size Bucky might hypothetically be.
“Can I help you at all, sir?” a sales assistant asks, who just happens to be approximately Bucky’s shape and build.
“What size are you?” Steve asks, and the shop assistant smiles.
*
Well, now that he’s bought the thing, he’s obviously not going to actually give it to Bucky, Steve decides the next day, staring at the tastefully wrapped box sitting on his bed.
“Jarvis? Hypothetically, if I wanted to leave a gift for another resident in their apartment without them knowing, how would I do that?” he asks, because he never was any good at self control.
*
He doesn’t actually leave the gift for Bucky immediately, instead wallowing in a mire of lust and guilt for several days more. He skirts around the edges of his normal life, because Bucky seems to have invaded it completely – he’s been easily accepted into the communal life of the Avengers and Associates (as they’ve taken to calling it) normal life. He’s talking to Jane easily about theoretical physics over breakfast. Flirting outrageously with Maria in the gym. Working on complex equations with Bruce with a smoothie Tony makes in the communal living area, until Tony gets struck by an idea and drags them both back to the lab.
He’s painfully smart, Steve can tell, but not neurotic about it. Mature for his years but occasionally caught out in a moment of adorable bashfulness (when Maria flirts back). He gets caught up cackling over memes with Darcy until they’re both wheezing on the floor with laughter, but then will bound to his feet to offer to help Pepper with some detailed task that’s taking up too much of her time.
They circle around each other in the shared spaces of the tower, never actually talking directly, but the moment nobody is looking Bucky will shoot him the kind of heated, suggestive look that makes Steve’s knees week. He feels a constant thrum of possessive jealousy – not because he wants to take Bucky away from the others, but because he’s deliberately denying himself what he so desperately wants. Bucky’s attention, Bucky’s time, Bucky’s smile and gasps of pleasure – Bucky’s obedience.
He waits until he knows Bucky is in the training room with Sam, who is giving him pointers on hand-to-hand, and takes the gift to the kid’s apartment.
*
“Mr Barnes is requesting access to your floor, Captain,” Jarvis tells him only two hours later – Steve has spent the whole time pacing around his apartment.
“Let him up,” he says, and feels his belly clench in anticipation. He tries to look as casual as possible, standing in the kitchen with a glass of water he’s no intention of drinking, like he hasn’t just been waiting for this on edge for two horrible drawn out hours.
The elevator dings and Bucky steps out. He’s wearing the coat, and black jeans that look painted on, but no shirt, so the open lapels of the soft wool coat look like a frame for his sleekly muscled chest and abdomen. He’s barefoot, with a fine layer of stubble on his jaw that makes him look older than he is, and his hair is a wild tangle of curls. He’s got a secret smile curling on corner of his mouth, and ducks his head to rub the lapel of the coat against his cheek as he strolls into the room, before looking up at Steve from under his lashes.
“I love it,” he says, and walks right into Steve’s personal space, pressing their bodies together, like they’ve been lovers for years.
Steve takes an unsteady breath, letting his hands settle on Bucky’s waist, feeling all that bare skin trying to burn through his own thin t-shirt. Bucky is only an inch or two shorter than him, and young enough still that he could gain some height still, but manages to look up at Steve like he is much smaller.
Mine, Steve thinks, and pulls Bucky tighter against him.
“What do you want from this?” he manages to ask gruffly, fingers clenching convulsively in the folds of the coat.
“I want you to look after me,” Bucky says softly, face tilted up in invitation, and touches his tongue to his lower lip. “I want to be yours.”
“And gifts?” Steve asks, arching an eyebrow and giving the coat a little nudge.
“You could fold a flower from an old newspaper for me and it would make me happy,” Bucky says, tilting his head. “I just want… I want to have a reminder of you even when you’re not there.”
Of all the things he could say, Steve thinks, that’s the thing most likely to stoke the possessive fire of want in him. He tries to think of all the reasons this is a bad, terrible idea, but with Bucky’s long lithe body fitted against him, nothing is coming to the front of his mind. Is it so bad, to want this one secret thing in his life? To want Bucky?
“Why me?” he asks, and gets another of Bucky’s half-smiles.
“When I look at you I feel like I can’t breathe, is all,” he says simply.
Ah, fuck it, Steve thinks, and kisses him.
It’s good, so good – Bucky’s lips are soft against his own, and open immediately to Steve can swipe his tongue in to taste, He winds his arms around Steve’s neck, leaning in so Steve takes his weight and kissing back – little licks and nibbles, giving a tiny moan. Steve threads the fingers of one hand into Bucky’s hair, holding him still and exerting just a tiny bit of control that makes Bucky’s breath hitch, and distantly he can feel the shape of Bucky’s erection, pressing into his thigh, just as hard as his own.
Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp and Bucky tries to chase his mouth but Steve holds him back with the grip on his hair. Bucky is heavy-lidded, mouth red and wet with their kiss, pupils blown.
“Please,” Bucky breathes, and it makes a shudder run all through Steve.
“No. Not now,” he says, just a thread of command in his voice, but it still makes Bucky shiver. “I want you to go back to your apartment tonight, and you can think of me and touch yourself but you can’t come. The next orgasm you have is going to be because of me, understood?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky says, and it makes Steve close his eyes, hips jerking, because Jesus. This kid. That shouldn’t feel so good. When he opens his eyes again Bucky is smiling a small, victorious smile.
“That what you want?” Steve asks roughly, tightening his grip in Bucky’s hair until it must border on painful. “For me to be your Daddy, to take care of you and give you presents and fuck you until you come saying my name?”
“Yes Daddy,” Bucky gasps, his hips rolling now, trying to grind up against Steve’s thigh.
Steve kisses him again, hot and filthy, shoving his tongue into Bucky’s mouth like he’s fucking it, holding his head and just taking what he wants. When he pulls away they’re both breathing hard, and it takes all his self-control not to drag Bucky off to his bedroom then and there – tie him down and fuck him over and over again until he’s mindless with pleasure, until he knows who he belongs to.
But he doesn’t. He’s not completely out of control and he knows some things probably need to be settled first, and it can’t be when they’re drunk with lust and all over each other. If Bucky wants to be dominated in the way Steve thinks he does, then they need to outline the boundaries of that with clear heads.
“Back to your apartment now, baby,” Steve says, still trying to will his painfully hard erection to stop throbbing in his jeans. “I’m going to email you some things and I want you to be honest when you reply – don’t just tell me what I want to hear, okay? And remember, you don’t get to come.”
Looking dazed, Bucky gives a little salute of acknowledgement, grinning at Steve and walking backwards towards the elevator, almost tripping over nothing as he goes. Steve grins back at him, and Bucky blows him a kiss as the elevator doors open.
“Soon?” Bucky calls, and Steve nods.
“Soon.”
*
Despite what Tony might think, Steve is not a virgin. He lived in a queer neighborhood before he joined the army, and had known he liked both men and women from his teens. It was easy, back then, to find a willing guy – and Steve was small and pretty, so he knows the breathless fun of finding an older, handsome guy who wanted him to play the pouting ingénue for a good time.
Steve called a few guys ‘Daddy’ back in his day.
It’s not about mimicking a parental relationship at all, he knows – not about some disturbing fantasy of incest. Rather, it’s a representation of a power differential that comes laced with affection and indulgence. He knows what Bucky wants because he’s experienced it and knows how it feels on both sides – like getting spoiled with gifts that actually represent emotional investment, being taken care of in a way that is borderline worshipful, yet with a stern and authoritative edge to it.
Steve hasn’t been completely chaste since waking up from the ice either; he just hasn’t wanted to jump headlong into a relationship, despite Natasha’s ongoing attempts to set him up. He’s fooled around here and there with partners who understood there wasn’t any longevity to it, just mutually beneficial pleasure. He’s carefully stuck to people inside his own age bracket, too.
This thing with Bucky… feels different. Steve gets all twisted up inside just looking at him, wants to simultaneously wrap him up and keep him safe, then inflict a little erotic pain and pleasure on him so they both lose their minds. He is very definitely not in Steve’s age bracket, and while he’s well over the legal age of consent, it disturbs him a bit how much Bucky’s obvious youth and willingness to play on it turns him on.
Doesn’t disturb him enough to stop, though.
Steve waits until the next day before requesting Bucky’s email address and cell number from Jarvis. He sends over some attached checklists he found on the internet and modified a bit – they outline some potential boundaries and safe words, and Bucky can check off his limits. It’s pretty simple, overall, but Steve’s a simple guy, really – he has no interest in verbal humiliation or severe discipline, or even most of the toys that seem par for the course in the kink scene. He wants to control Bucky and give him pleasure and maybe a bit of the kind of the pain that feels good, but he also wants to spoil him and look after him and make him happy.
Once the email is sent, he shoots a text message telling Bucky to check his inbox. Bucky sends back a selfie of him sucking a cherry lollipop with his lips stained red.
Fuck.
*
He leaves little gifts for Bucky when he knows he’s elsewhere in the tower. First, a bouquet of intricately folded flowers made from newspapers. Bucky sends back an artsy photograph of them in a tiny blue glass vase, with the sun rising across Manhattan in the background. Then Steve gives him supple black leather ankle boots in his size that match the wool coat. Bucky wears them to the communal breakfast the next day, smiling secretly when Darcy exclaims over them.
They don’t sit next to each other at movie night, but Bucky brings the fine French chocolate truffles that Steve gifted him to share. That night, Bucky texts him a selfie – naked, with his hand wrapped around his gorgeous and painfully hard cock, eyes clouded with desire. The only text says, ‘please’.
Steve texts back: ‘Tomorrow night. My apartment, Jarvis will let you in. Lie face down on the bed. Naked.’
‘Yes Daddy,’ comes the reply.
*
Bucky’s checklist had aligned neatly with Steve’s own, when he’d sent it back – he was fine with the traffic light system of safe words, he didn’t mark down any interests that would have directly conflicted with Steve’s own, and instead circled and re-circled things like ‘praise kink’ and ‘light erotic pain’.
Standing in the bathroom, listening to Bucky undress in the bedroom next door, getting himself ready, Steve is just about vibrating with excitement. It had been a kind of tormenting, drawn-out courtship to send Bucky gifts and not see him alone again, but now it’s time to finally do something about it.
He’s completely naked himself, and waits until it’s been silent in the bedroom for a few minutes before noiselessly opening the bathroom door and stepping into the bedroom. There are scented candles lit all around the room, providing the only light, and on the bed Bucky is like a sculpture of rippling gold, all smooth lines and curved edges. He’s still got some of the fullness of youth to his body, and his fucking ass is as round and ripe as a peach.
“Good boy,” Steve says into the quiet, and Bucky takes an audible breath and turns his head, trying to see Steve. He’s trembling, just a little, visible in the firm length of his thighs.
Steve climbs onto the foot of the bed, leisurely crawling up Bucky’s body when he just wants to pounce, and drops a wet, open-mouthed kiss at the base of his spine. And another, at the midway point. Another between his shoulder blades – Bucky is actively trying to arch up into the kisses now – and drops a final kiss at the base of his neck. Then Steve lays his entire weight on Bucky, blanketing his body, pinning him with naked skin.
“Steve!” Bucky gasps, and wriggles under his weight, but not like he wants to get away – more like he wants to feel all of it. Steve kisses his neck, and Bucky gives a little moan and stills.
“Feel good, sweetheart?” Steve asks throatily, and Bucky gives another moan in answer. Steve shifts slightly, so the length of his cock his settled perfectly between Bucky’s ass cheeks. He gives a little, testing thrust, and that makes Bucky sigh and lift his hips back into Steve, as much as he’s able.
“You feel so good, Daddy,” Bucky murmurs. The name makes a sharp ripple of pleasure run through Steve, and he scrapes his teeth over Bucky’s neck.
“Have you come since the last time I touched you?”
“No, I haven’t, I swear,” Bucky gasps, and Steve believes him. He’s probably jerked himself to breaking point a hundred times, but never actually come.
“Such a good boy for me,” Steve murmurs against his neck. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Steve lifts himself off Bucky’s back, sitting up to straddle his thighs, so Bucky pushes himself up onto his elbows and twists his head to give Steve a sly look. “Do I get a reward, then?”
Steve slaps his ass lightly, watching how Bucky jolts and his eyes darken with it, and smiles. “It depends if you can continue to hold off long enough for me to get you on my cock,” he says mildly. He cups Bucky’s ass cheeks, one in each hand, and strokes his thumbs down the cleft in the center. Bucky pushes back into him, biting his lip and looking so pretty that Steve could just cry.
“I want that. I want to be good for you. I want you to fuck me Daddy, please,” Bucky says all in a rush, and Christ, this kid will actually kill him before they’re done.
Steve swings one leg off Bucky, so he’s kneeling next to his hip, and gives his gorgeous ass another swat. “Come on then, elbows and knees. I want to look at you.”
Bucky complies with cat-like grace – he’s all long limbs and perfect balance, spreading his legs as he balances on his elbows so his back is a long bow and his ass is tilted invitingly into the air, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his thighs. Steve kind of wants to whistle, he’s so impressed with how smooth Bucky made that look. Instead he runs his palm over the long stretch of Bucky’s back, across his hip and down the back of one thigh then back up again. His skin is beautifully smooth, and even the light dusting of hair on his thigh is silky and soft. Bucky arches into the touch and rolls his head to watch Steve with heated eyes.
“Will I do?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Sass. Pure sass. Steve loves it.
“Mmmm,” Steve says in answer, and slides his palm from Bucky’s tailbone down – letting his middle finger slide between the cleft of his ass to stroke firmly over the furled hole there. He taps gently against it and Bucky jumps, and then makes a mournful noise when Steve takes his hand away.
He left lubricant and condoms on the nightstand, and Bucky’s eyes go wide when Steve grabs them and knee-walks around Bucky to kneel behind him.
“Do you like this idea?” Steve asks in a low voice. “That after all that foreplay of gifts at a distance, that when I finally get you in my bed I’ll skip everything just to fuck you as soon as possible?”
“God. Yes,” Bucky chokes out, and Steve gives an amused hum, coating his fingers with lubricant. Bucky keeps trying to crane his head around to look, so Steve gives him another smack on the ass so he whips around to face front again.
“We can slow down if you like. I could spend hours kissing you. Getting you close to coming and not letting you. Just say the word,” Steve goes on conversationally, pressing a slick finger to Bucky’s tight little hole and circling it with increasing pressure.
“No this, I want this. Want you now,” Bucky gasps, trying to push back onto Steve’s finger. Steve holds out for a moment longer, and then pushes it into Bucky easily. He’s tight, and hot, and it takes all of Steve’s self control to keep going slow, gently thrusting one finger in and out of Bucky, feeling the tight muscles start to loosen, until he slowly pushes in a second finger.
“Doing okay baby?” Steve asks, holding his hip with his free hand and stroking soothing circles with his thumb.
“You feel so good Steve,” Bucky murmurs, head dropped down between his shoulders, rocking steadily back to fuck himself on Steve’s hand.
He gets a third finger in after a while, and by then Bucky is arching and writhing and actually begging for Steve’s cock – thrusting back on Steve’s hand with increasing force, all hot and wet, and just about cries when Steve suddenly pulls his hand away. Steve shushes him gently, hurriedly tearing open the condom wrapper and getting himself sheathed, coating himself liberally with slick and lining himself up at Bucky’s sweet little hole.
“Oh god, DaddyI” Bucky cries out when Steve slowly pushes the head of his cock inside him.
He’s tight, so tight that Steve has to pause for an unsteady breath just halfway in or he’ll blow right then, and he’s working himself up to keep moving when suddenly Bucky jerks back against him, taking Steve all the way in with a sharp cry of pleasure, and Steve bends double over his back, breathing hard and seeing stars. Holy fuck he just wants to pound this kid right now.
“Greedy,” he manages to mutter into the sweat-sheened skin of his back.
“I want to live like this,” Bucky says dreamily. “Getting fucked by you. You feel so big. This is nothing like using toys.”
Steve tries to slow his pleasure-spun mind long enough to ponder what’s wrong with that sentence.
“Buck,” he says, lifting his head. “Are you a virgin?”
“Well, not anymore,” Bucky says, rolling his hips as if to remind them both that Steve still has his dick in his ass.
FUCK.
“You should have told me,” Steve grits out. Bucky is still rolling his hips, getting friction, a little movement. It feels mind-bendingly good.
“Would you be fucking me now if I did?” Bucky pants in return, and they both know the answer to that is of course fucking not. So.
Steve grips Bucky’s hips in his hands and guides him to swivel them a bit, changing the angle, so Steve’s cock is sliding in and out a couple of inches like a corkscrew. He grits his teeth. He’ll stop in just a minute, because he shouldn’t be deflowering some 20-year-old, no matter how many things he’s stuck up his own ass previously. Although obviously virginity is a societal construct and should have no impact on two consenting adults. Especially not when one of those adults has an ass that takes Steve’s dick so perfectly. And when said adult begged Steve of all people to fuck him for the first time and nobody else.
Some deeply, deeply possessive part of Steve is having a field day right now.
“Fuck!” Steve snaps, and pulls out of Bucky – only to flip him over and wedge himself between his thighs, lining himself up and pushing himself back in with one smooth snap of his hips.
“Yes, oh please!” Bucky says, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him in for a deep, filthy kiss. His legs wind around Steve’s waist, pulling him close for short, hard pumps of his hips, and he must hit something right because Bucky gives a sudden yelping moan.
“That’s it,” Steve murmurs, hitting that same spot over and over again, seeing Bucky’s eyes practically roll back into his head. “You’re mine. Only I get to fuck you. Only I get to make you come.”
“Daddy, yes, I’m yours, Daddy!” Bucky whispers, over and over again, between choked moans and sighs, and Steve shoves a hand between them, gripping his cock tightly and jerking it.
“Come for me, Buck,” he growls, and Bucky does – jetting stripes of white over both of them with a hoarse moan. He clenches down hard on Steve and that’s it, he’s done – a few more stuttering jerks of his hips and he comes, shuddering and crying out.
He manages to keep his senses enough to keep his full weight off Bucky – who looks completely spaced out now – and keeps his head enough to slowly withdraw, tie off the condom and throw it on the floor somewhere beside the bed. He pulls Bucky in close to him, cradling him against his chest and telling him how good, how perfect he’s been, over and over again in a low whisper.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Bucky says after a while. He’s still trembling, but it’s easing off.
“It’s not that you hadn’t had sex, per se. It’s that you’re so young, that terrifies me a bit,” Steve says quietly.
“Why?”
“Because there’s plenty I did at your age that I regret now. I don’t want to be something you look back on and regret.”
“How could you?” Bucky asks simply. “You make me feel happy. You make me feel good about myself.”
Steve rolls Bucky away from his chest long enough to search his eyes – to see that Bucky absolutely means what he says; it’s not just a platitude. Then he dips his head to give him a gentle kiss.
“Come on. I’ve got a bath waiting, gorgeous boy.”
*
Bucky is still spacey in the bath, but in a good way – cuddly and pliant, settling easily between Steve’s legs in the enormous tub, back to chest, with his head tipped back against Steve’s shoulder for easy kisses. Steve takes his time soaping up a cloth, running it over his miles of smooth skin, feeling a twinge of regret that Bucky’s first time hadn’t exactly been slow and romantic. But then, Bucky hadn’t used his safe words to slow things down – had been vocally consenting at every step – and seems pretty blissed out in the aftermath.
“Can I stay?” Bucky asks dreamily, pressing a line of kisses up Steve’s throat.
“Of course,” Steve says huskily, and they’re quiet for a time again, until the water starts to cool and he urges Bucky out of the tub and into an enormous fluffy towel. He takes great pleasure in patting Bucky dry and feeding him a glass of water before leading him back to the bed. He’s always liked looking after people.
He bundles them both under the blankets – Bucky curls up against Steve’s side like he’s always belonged there, already half-drifting into sleep. Steve strokes his back until his breathing evens out and his body goes slack, and simply watches him for a while – studying the dark smudge of his lashes against his cheeks, the sharp cut of his jaw and tiny indent in his chin. Bucky is beautiful and smart, funny and shy, and Steve is so, so smitten.
“Night, beautiful boy,” he whispers in the dark, and lets himself slide into sleep.