Chapter Text
Steve made tea, because of course he did. Bucky waited for him to be done, hovering mutely by his side. Without having discussed it, they both knew it was time for Bucky to confess what his safewording had actually been about, and he tried to work up his nerve.
When Steve was done, putting the teacups on a tray, Bucky headed for the living room—but Steve called him back.
“No, this way, Bucky.”
A thrill went through Bucky when he realized what this meant. Already Steve was walking down the hallway, towards the three doors that had never opened for Bucky.
“What—” Bucky cleared his throat, following him. “What’s in there?”
“Oh, just glorified closets,” Steve mumbled, careful to keep the steaming cups balanced. “The first one’s for bondage furniture, and the second one for art stuff.”
On a normal day, the mention of dungeon pieces big enough to be stored in a separate room would have made Bucky light up with fevered fantasies. But right now, in the quiet strangeness of midnight, anticipating the conversation to come, he was more interested by Steve’s art stuff, picturing him with paint on his nose, or deep into Photoshop with huge headphones on his head.
He didn’t ask what the third room was, because it was obvious. There was only one possibility left. But his heart still beat faster as Steve opened the door.
The bedroom was wonderfully untidy. Steve’s bed was unmade, the nightstand overflowing with books, clothes spilling out of the closet, postcards and old posters on the wall. It was nothing like the dungeon—his workplace, really, always so neat and impersonal. Out of this whole huge apartment, he’d kept only this tiny room to himself. Bucky felt something like religion in his heart. Even during their sessions, he hadn’t been as close to Steve as he was now.
Steve sat on his bed and looked up, blinking when he saw Bucky hovering by the door. For the first time that night, a crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s okay to come in.”
Bucky obeyed, sat meekly on the bed, and took a cup when it was offered. It wasn’t spicy chai this time. Just something quiet and tame, like chamomile, maybe. He could feel it warm his right hand, could see it steam up his left.
There was a silence. Bucky knew he was expected to speak now. His stomach was twisting again, like it had on the very first day, and he had to clear his throat before he found his voice.
“So. I’m warning you, this—this is gonna sound pretty stupid.” He swallowed. “Steve, I—I like you. Um. Maybe a bit too much. I’ve been trying not to think about it, because I didn’t wanna be creepy. But earlier, when you were… when we were…”
He bit his lip.
“It was all I could think about. I even started imagining stuff. Like maybe it was for real, maybe you secretly knew how I felt, and that—that—I couldn’t let myself go down that road.” He shook his head with a faint smile at himself. “But I guess I’ve been kind of a drama queen about it. I was all… caught up in that intense headspace, and I ended up scaring you. I’m sorry.”
There. Natasha had been right in the end: all Bucky had to do was not be the creepy client. Which meant owning up to his feelings, so Steve could decide for himself how he wanted to handle them.
“If you want me to go, it’s fine,” Bucky said. “Whatever you want to do is fine by me.”
For a couple of seconds he didn’t even dare look up at him. Then he did—and blinked. Steve was just sitting there, staring at him with a baffled expression.
“That’s why you safeworded?” he asked at last.
“Yeah.”
“But—” Steve frowned like something genuinely didn’t compute. “You don’t find me boring?”
He made it sound like an unspoken evidence between them, but to Bucky it completely came out of left field. “What? Boring?”
Steve gave a little shrug. “Yeah, people tend to think that of me.”
“Who the fuck—” Bucky wanted to get closer to him, but they both had cups of steaming tea in their lap and he stopped himself. He didn’t want a repeat of the Great Beer Flood. “Steve, how could anybody think that of you?”
Steve looked unsure. “It’s just… every time I tried to see you outside of a scene, we never ended up talking. And, I mean, I haven’t exactly been subtle about… I just figured you couldn’t be that interested.”
“We literally left Sam and Nat alone at the movies—”
“That doesn’t count, it was my fault.” There was a wrinkle between Steve’s brows now. “Besides, when they came back, in the diner, you only talked to Sam. And last night for drinks, I thought—it’s stupid but I thought it’d be just us, and then you changed bars and Clint was there, and you talked to Sam all night again.”
“Because he gets on my nerves,” Bucky said, so appalled he spilled some tea in his lap this time. “Fuck—”
He looked around for a place to put his cup, but there wasn’t one, and he couldn’t give it to Steve because Steve had one, too. Why the hell had they made tea?
“I wanted it to be just us,” he went on. “But Clint had walked in on me so I had to talk to him—but he wasn’t gonna stay afterwards—but then he did stay, because he liked Nat, and then you all started signing so I was stuck talking to Sam—”
Steve blinked at him.
“And I—wait, fuck, hold on.” Bucky put his cup down on the floor. “There.” He straightened up and met Steve’s blue eyes. “Steve, you’re… you’re the least boring person I’ve ever met.”
“You say that ‘cause we’ve been playing a lot.” Steve looked more insecure than ever. “But I’m not that exciting when I’m not Domming people.”
“We’re sitting in your bedroom drinking chamomile. Do I look bored to you?”
“Yeah, well, maybe you got a chamomile fetish.”
“Okay—first of all, put your goddamn cup on the nightstand,” Bucky said, taking it from his hands to do it himself. “Now, listen to me—”
His words dried in his throat. He was very close to him now, and he felt it in his whole body, the vibration that made him want to get close, like they did during aftercare, when he was all wrapped up in Steve, perfectly safe and content.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He still wasn’t sure how Steve felt about him.
“Steve—” He reached out, then stopped himself. “Can I… can I kiss you?”
Steve wasn’t listening at all; he still had that divot between his brows. “You said you didn’t wanna date your Dom.”
“That’s because I didn’t know you.” Bucky took a breath. “Can I kiss you? Please—just tell me yes or no.”
Steve stared at him in mute bafflement for another couple of seconds. Then his lips stretched into a slow, slow smile.
“You know, I think I’m really into you asking permission for stuff.”
Bucky stared at him in disbelief. “Oh my God. You fucking punk—I’m sitting here squirming and you—”
“And you can kiss me.” Steve was smiling for real now. “You know. If you’re into that.”
“God, you’re terrible,” Bucky exhaled, leaning in, “I really don’t like you at all,” and then he wrapped Steve in his arms, held him tight and kissed him like he really wanted, like he’d wanted for weeks, and it was stupid because it was in no way their first kiss—and yet it also was.
*
Bucky woke up early, feeling very aware of the foreign mattress. He was in Steve’s bed. In Steve’s bedroom.
It was so strange how the most simple and chaste things ended up feeling the most intimate. Nat had told Bucky once that kinksters tended to do their relationships backwards: first came the sex in ropes, the hard whipping and the casual exchange of deepest fantasies. Then came the coffee dates and the hand-holding and the nervous kissing at the door.
Fine by me, Bucky thought, curling an arm around Steve to bring him closer. Steve hummed and stretched; then he turned round to face him.
“Were you spooning me?” he muttered.
“If I say yes, do I get a whipping?”
“Jury’s out.” Steve smiled at him, blue eyes half-lidded with sleep.
A few quiet, lazy minutes went by before Steve spoke again, very softly.
“Thanks for coming back last night.”
“God, don’t mention it. I feel so stupid that I left in the first place.”
Steve hesitated for a second, then looked down. He had crazy long lashes. “I thought… it was the other way around,” he said. “I thought you’d realized I was crazy about you and you were uncomfortable.”
Bucky couldn’t keep from smiling. “Crazy about me?”
“I’m definitely whipping you later.” Steve shifted under the comforter, feet brushing Bucky’s. “Of course, Buck, c’mon. I made you breakfast for dinner and then I asked you out for drinks. I was so excited to see you yesterday I kissed you before you even walked through the door.”
“Well.” Bucky did feel sort of stupid. But he’d been subconsciously chalking it all up to Steve’s role as his Dom. “When you say it like that…”
“But I meant what I said,” Steve went on, nervous. “I’m not a real interesting guy. I draw all day on weekends. Or I stay in and watch movies. The nights out with Nat, that’s as wild as I get, really, and—okay, why are you laughing?”
“Because she fucking planned it,” Bucky cackled. “God, Steve, you don’t get it. I’m a total couch gremlin—her words, not mine. I think she just wanted me off her couch and on yours for a change.”
Steve blinked, then smiled again.
“Well,” he said. “I’d be fine with that.”
“Yeah?” Bucky said, getting closer.
For a second they just smiled at each other.
“I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you on that first day,” Steve whispered eventually. “And then every time you—” He closed his eyes for a second. “God, you don’t even know.”
“So,” Bucky said, because he’d been wondering about that, “I was a special case? When you let me crash on your couch—I mean, it was nice of you and all, but I kept thinking it was really unsafe, you didn’t even know me—”
“Oh, God, don’t talk to me about that,” Steve laughed. “I told myself it was because you were Nat’s friend, but—do you know that I don’t even kiss my clients?”
Bucky stared in enthrallment. “For real?”
“I mean, I do, sometimes, after we’ve become friends—but not on the day I meet them. Not like I kissed you.” Steve smiled, then looked down again. “So, yeah, you’ve been a special case from the start.”
Bucky was all out of words. He tilted up Steve’s chin and kissed him, slow and soft and warm.
“I…” Steve reopened his eyes. “I haven’t dated anyone in years. Just a heads-up.”
“I’ve never dated anyone for more than three months in a row,” Bucky said. “You can’t out-lame me.”
Steve laughed. “Okay.”
Bucky pulled him in his arms. Steve seemed happy being cuddled, but Bucky couldn’t afford to go back to sleep, not just yet. He stared at the wall and spent the next minute working up the courage to say the last of his piece.
“Can I—will you keep being my Dom?” he managed eventually.
Steve inched back to look up at him. “I sure as hell hope so.”
“No, but I mean… Are you okay dating one of your clients?”
“What are you talking about?” Steve said, blinking. “You don’t have to be my client anymore.”
“But then it’s costing you money!” Bucky exclaimed. This was what he’d wanted to avoid. “I don’t want to make you choose between—”
“Okay—hold on a sec.” Steve fully disengaged from Bucky’s arms and sat up. “Have you noticed how fancy this building is?”
“Uh,” Bucky said, disoriented. “Yes?”
“Have you noticed that I’m not all that organized when it comes to money?”
Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Yes.”
“So do I strike you as someone who needs money?”
“I—I guess not, but—”
“Bucky, I make ten thousand dollars a month. Give or take.”
Bucky stared at him.
“Give or take,” he echoed.
“Yeah. I have about a dozen clients. They’re not all as regular as you, but some of them pay me a lot more. And I live in my dungeon, so it’s not like I’m paying another rent.”
Bucky just kept staring.
“It’s actually pretty common fare for sex workers, you know. The same problems as lottery winners, a lot of money in a very short time, which we don’t always know how to manage. I was lucky to have Nat as my friend, she helped me find placement options.”
“Jesus.” Bucky shifted closer. “So then you’re crazy rich?”
Steve laughed. “Not really. The rent on this place is huge, and I’m still paying back my student loans, and I also have a few heavy hospital bills. And like I said, my income isn’t steady, so I try to save money when I can.” He smiled. “Still, I won’t miss four hundred bucks a month.”
“Wow.” Bucky looked at him for a second, then lowered his eyes, forced himself to speak even though he sounded horribly dumb to his own ears. “So—then—I can be your sub for real?”
Instead of answering, Steve tangled a hand in his hair, pulled him closer and kissed him like he had the day before, pushing his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, taking total charge of the kiss. Bucky melted in his grip, and abruptly felt like crying with relief. He had imagined so many reasons for this not to work, and yet here they were now, on the other side of it all. He clung to Steve tight, tight, and let out a sigh that was almost a moan.
“You okay?” Steve asked against his mouth.
Bucky nodded. When he spoke, his voice was shakier than expected. “Just so glad I haven’t ruined everything.”
Steve stayed silent for a while.
“I was dropping,” he said.
When Bucky stared at him, he winced. “You asked yesterday night, and—I should always tell you. So, yes, that was a drop for me. I was worried you wouldn’t ever come back, maybe I’d scared you or hurt you or maybe I’d gone too far, maybe you just didn’t like me all that much, maybe doing that kind of thing was wrong and crazy anyway—stupid stuff like that. I was gonna drink hot chocolate and watch sad movies all night.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. Like I said, it happens to everyone. The important thing is how we deal with it. And you came back for me, Buck. You came all the way back, just to make sure I was okay.”
“Yeah, eventually,” Bucky mumbled.
“Right on time,” Steve said, smiling.
*
“You’re so late,” Clint said at the gate. “Didn’t even call. Tony’s going crazy.”
“Crazier than usual?” Bucky mumbled, swiping his badge.
The gate unlocked with a beep, but Clint didn’t deactivate the metal detector right away. “Seriously, man, what’s up?”
“Well—” Bucky couldn’t help smiling. “I spent the night at Steve’s. We—we talked and stuff.”
Clint’s smile was hesitant, but it was there. “Yeah?”
“We’re dating,” Bucky said. He needed to tell everyone. He’d told strangers in the subway. God, he was probably even going to tell Tony. That’s how happy he was.
Clint frowned. “You weren’t dating before?”
“No, just playing,” Bucky said, then quickly explained, “it’s our technical term for—”
“I know, Nat told me.”
“Oh, so she’s Nat now.”
Clint deactivated the detector, not quite managing to school his features into blandness. “Whatever, Barnes, just get your ass to work.”
*
“You knew!” Bucky accused as soon as he got home that night. “You knew Steve liked me!”
Natasha was applying lipstick with her mouth wide open and gave an answer made entirely of vowels, which could have meant anything from “of course, you fool” to “is this high school”. Bucky glared at her until she was done, pressing her lips together, tilting her head as she looked at herself in the mirror.
“Did not,” she said at last.
“Did too!” Bucky yelled. “You knew from the moment I came home after crashing on his couch! He told me he didn’t let clients stay over—”
“I suppose I had an inkling.” She looked at him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “So, did you idiots sort it out?”
“Unbelievable.”
“You know, I really like Steve,” she said, turning towards him and crossing her legs. “So you better be careful with him.”
“Yeah, well—well you be careful with Clint,” Bucky said lamely. Then he took a deep breath. “Do you want pecan or dried raspberries?”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Cookies. I’m baking you cookies of gratitude. No,” Bucky said, raising a finger, “you’re forbidden to rub it in. Just tell me your pick.”
Natasha grinned. “Toffee and sea salt.”
“Unbelievable,” Bucky repeated, then headed to the kitchen because she’d really earned them.
*
“So, this movie kinda sucked, huh?” Bucky said, zipping up his jacket as they came out of the theater.
“It did,” Steve nodded gravely. “I need to buy it and rewatch it like at least three times.”
Bucky laughed. Steve smiled and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Bucky kept being happily surprised at how into PDA Steve was—though of course it kinda made sense for someone so unabashed. It was technically their first date, but Bucky felt as though they’d been doing this for years.
“…and then when the secret base just exploded? I was like, there’s no way—oh hey,” Steve said when he saw a bus coming up. “That one will take me home.”
Bucky wasn’t sure what to say, but Steve didn’t give him enough time for awkwardness. “You wanna come along?”
Bucky exhaled—Steve liked him, he really did—then smiled. “It’s not Thursday.”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Steve looked steadily at him. “And we don’t have to do anything, you know.”
“I know.” Bucky swallowed. “What if I want to, though?”
Steve gave him a wide smile. “Then I can probably whip up something.”
“Oh my God—you’re the worst, you know that?”
“Buck, I don’t see the point in being a kinkster if you don’t make awful puns about it.” Steve changed his grip on Bucky’s wrist, making it tight and possessive. “Now let’s catch that bus.”
*
As soon as they were in the elevator, Bucky started kissing Steve again, but soon found himself ceding the lead, only too happy to do so. Steve slipped his hands under Bucky’s coat and shirt, running them over bare skin, and then raking his nails down his sides, drawing a whine out of him. They weren’t very long, but the pain still made Bucky press his face into his shoulder, shuddering.
The doors opened. Steve pushed Bucky out and followed him, keys jiggling as he looked for the right one. Bucky was dazed, already buzzing, so eager to have more.
“Take off your clothes,” Steve said as soon as he’d shut the door.
Bucky started stripping at once. He was aware of Steve busying himself around his drawers, but he didn’t look. He liked not knowing. He loved trust falls.
Still in his boxers, he folded his clothes on the couch, then took off his underwear just as Steve came back with two sets of purple ropes.
“Here, kneel,” Steve said, already unraveling the first bundle.
When Bucky did, Steve turned slightly pink; his hands, threading the rope, faltered and stopped.
“God, Buck.” He took a deep breath. “Do you even know how you look?”
Bucky smiled softly. “Even with the robot arm?”
Steve crouched next to him and tied his wrists in his back. “Your arm’s gorgeous, Buck. But that’s not the point.” He tightened the tie, tested it, then looped the rope around Bucky’s upper chest and arms, going for a solid box tie. “I’m tying you up and you’re just letting me. You’re so hot and so fucking strong, and you’re there, you’re naked, you’re letting me make you helpless.”
Bucky’s body was beginning to react, just from Steve’s words—and he was naked, there was no way he could hide his arousal. His cheeks flushed, his breathing quickened.
“I’m not a strong guy, Buck,” Steve went on, doubling up his rope and cinching it so Bucky couldn’t shrug it off to free himself. “But you trust me to take control of you. That’s—” He paused. “You don’t know what it does to me.”
He tightened the rope until Bucky had to breathe more shallow. He was at full mast now—it had taken no time at all.
“Don’t worry, Buck.” Steve tugged at Bucky’s cock, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. “I’m not forgetting the last time.”
Bucky felt a pang of worry, because the last time hadn’t gone so well. “The—the last time?”
“Yeah. I said I’d fuck you, didn’t I? I’m a man of my word.”
Bucky’s anxiety faded in a hot rush of arousal. “I—I haven’t cleaned myself.”
“Let me worry about that.” Steve put his hand behind Bucky’s neck. “And bend over.”
Breathless now—from the tightness of the ropes, from sheer excitement—Bucky knelt forward, and further, until his forehead touched the ground. Helpless. He did feel so, especially with his hands bound, his bare ass raised up for the taking. He imagined Steve just doing it now—shuffling behind him, grabbing his hips and pushing in, just like last time, without prep, leaving Bucky to struggle and cry out while his body adjusted to the stretch—
Something cold made him jump. Steve made a soothing noise and grabbed Bucky’s right hand, squeezing his fingers.
“Try to relax. It’s gonna feel big.”
It was a steel plug, Bucky understood with a sudden head rush. He squeezed Steve’s hand hard, shifting to open his legs further. Please, please, please.
The head nudged forward, ice-cold, and then he felt the full, heavy smoothness of the raindrop-shaped toy as it started to enter him. It hurt and it was so good. This was why he loved pain—it was effortlessly thrilling, always intense right off the bat, not like the labyrinth of pleasure.
“There you go,” Steve said, soothing. He pushed one last time, and then the toy was in him.
Bucky blew out a shaky breath. In this position, the plug was a cool, insistent weight on his prostate. He squirmed a little to try and accommodate it, but it only made him more aware of it. He could feel his heartbeat around it, which was horribly embarrassing and terribly arousing. God, his body was pulsing with pleasure already, all the way down to his cock hanging heavy between his legs.
“Lie down on your side,” Steve said.
Bucky complied and heard the flat noise of more ropes coming loose from their bundle. Steve bent Bucky’s right leg double and tied it that way; then he did the same thing with the left, tugging the ties as hard as he could, every time. Bucky was dizzy. Why was it so good already? They had barely done anything—
“Now try to get back on your knees.”
Bucky obeyed, though of course he had to use his abs for it—and clenching his core made him acutely aware of the toy in his ass. He let out a noise, shaky and weak and entirely involuntary.
“C’mon, do it,” Steve ordered, grinning.
Bucky tried again, awkwardly dragging himself upwards, baffled and ashamed to realize he couldn’t do it without clenching his ass. As he managed to straighten up, it all got worse—the heavy toy weighed down, and Bucky had to actively hold it in. He bit his lip and shuffled fully to his knees. His chest harness was holding admirably tight, restricting his arms and hands in his back; his legs were bound in a kneeling position; he could use nothing but his core strength to keep the toy inside him. The rush of humiliation was so intense his eyes blurred with tears. Wetness leaked from his cock as well.
“Okay?” Steve asked quietly.
Bucky nodded, breathless and so hopelessly aroused. When Steve kissed him in answer, it was so deep and filthy that some distant part of Bucky managed to realize Steve was probably excited at least a little bit, too. Maybe a lot. Bucky loved it, to know his Dom was drawing pleasure from him, from what he was putting him through.
He had closed his eyes, and he’d never even tried to keep track of Steve’s movements, so the first snap of pain took him completely by surprise.
He cried out and scooted back, only to be kept close by Steve’s hand fisting in his hair. “Easy, Buck.”
Steve was standing up now. His riding crop—black, of course—came under Bucky’s chin, making him hold a rigid posture. Bucky caught his breath and looked up at Steve, unable to speak.
“You’re tied up this time, so feel free to try and escape.” Steve grinned. “It won’t get you anywhere, but it’s fun to watch.”
Bucky realized he’d stopped breathing; he exhaled shakily, eyeing the crop. He was definitely nonverbal again this time around, but it was okay. Steve knew. Steve even liked it.
“Remember your safeword?” When Bucky nodded, Steve brushed a thumb across his cheek. “I know you do.”
Then he landed a stinging blow on Bucky’s bound thigh, just between the ropes. Bucky jumped and—just like Steve had said—instinctively tried to move away. Steve still had a solid grip on his hair and roughly brought him back, then hit him again, even sharper. Standing up, he had no problem controlling Bucky’s awkward attempts to move away. The crop came down again, pushing a strangled whine out of Bucky’s mouth. It was a strange pain—very similar to the cane, yet more bearable, because the burn didn’t last as long and didn’t go as deep. Still, Bucky knew it would overwhelm him much quicker than a flogger would.
His chest was bound so tight his pectorals bulged a little; the crop came down there, snapping at his nipple, making him writhe in his bonds again. When Steve hit his other nipple, Bucky cried out and folded forward, forcing Steve to let go of his hair.
“Trying to hide your front? Okay.”
Bucky understood his mistake too late—Steve’s crop positioned itself between his legs, then snapped hard at his balls. Bucky straightened up at once, forcing himself to present his chest and thighs again, chest heaving. More tears were welling up in his eyes, though they hadn’t rolled down yet.
“Yeah, thought so,” Steve grinned. “How’s it going down there?”
He crouched to tug at the toy in Bucky’s ass. Bucky had managed to forget about it for a second—but he was vividly reminded now, squirming and whimpering when Steve pushed it further up, making him feel uncomfortably full. When Steve stopped playing with it, it seemed heavier than ever, and Bucky had to clench again so it wouldn’t fall out.
“You know better than to let it out, don’t you?” Steve said.
Bucky nodded.
“Yeah, you do.” Steve got back to his feet. “Open up.”
Though he was surprised to feel the folded leather push past his lips, Bucky accepted it unreservedly the next second, sucking it in like it was Steve’s fingers, curling his tongue around it. He made a show of it, enjoying the attention, imagining how he looked to Steve. How Steve saw him. He opened his eyes, which kept closing on their own, and met Steve’s gaze. His pupils were blown. He was staring back like there was nothing else in the world.
Then Steve took the crop out and snapped at Bucky’s nipple again. Bucky couldn’t even react to it, because right then the toy in his ass almost slipped out, making him straighten up at once, clenching to keep it in.
He had to work his core to bring it fully back in, and this time, his tears rolled down. It seemed to make Steve melt—he knelt down next to Bucky, tangling his free hand in his long hair again, smiling his fond lopsided smile.
“I’m giving you a hard time, huh?”
Bucky still couldn’t speak, but he turned his head toward Steve, because it was all so good, and he needed to let him know, needed to show him, to make him hear the mantra inside his head, anything for you, anything you want to do to me, I’ll give it all to you, I—
The crop snapped at his chest again, at his thighs, at his abs, but Bucky didn’t try to move away anymore; he managed to keep himself there, close to Steve, so Steve could enjoy first-hand the twitches of pain and ecstasy chasing themselves across his face, it was all for him, the pain and the pleasure, he was giving them to Bucky and Bucky was giving them right back, and he was so hard, and every time he had to clench on the toy—he had to clench a lot—it squeezed on his prostate, cranked up the pleasure in him, pushed him closer to the shuddery edge, he was so close, god, so close, trembling, he wouldn’t need much—
He realized all at once that he was crying for good, breathy sobs rushing in and out of him, and Steve kissed his mouth and his cheeks, and positioned the riding crop over Bucky’s cock, whispering encouragements, telling him to brace for it, and Bucky suddenly knew what was about to happen; his mind almost couldn’t believe it but his body was already certain, and here it was already, the crop raising, then snapping down onto the sensitive head of his cock—and with another jerk of his hips and a huge gasping moan, Bucky came untouched, painting white stripes over Steve’s shining floorboards.
“Jesus,” Steve said, sounding very breathless too. “Yeah, there you are, so fucking good, Bucky, spend it all, it’s okay, it’s allowed. God—” and he was kissing him again, probably tasting Bucky’s tears in his mouth, feeling the aftershocks in his body, how shaky his breathing was.
Bucky felt dizzy and spent from his orgasm, still shaking and gasping, suddenly unsure whether he could bear any more pain, wanting nothing more than to surrender. When the crop raised, he moved away.
“No—”
“You’re done?” Steve looked at him for a second, then smiled warmly. “Yeah, you’re done.”
He put it down, and fresh tears rolled down Bucky's cheeks because it moved something deep in him, to beg for mercy and to actually get it.
“One last thing for me, though, if you’re up for it,” Steve said, and grabbed his hair to tug his head down, making him kneel forward, face down like before. “I’d really like to see you clean it up.”
Bucky’s stomach swooped. For a second, he was so dazed that he almost forgot to answer, but then he hurried to give a shaky nod.
“Yeah? You’ll do that for me?” Steve brought him right above it. “Then get to work.”
Bucky was losing his breath again. He bent further down, made an effort to get his tears under control, and finally managed to start licking up the mess he’d made, choking on a muffled sob from time to time. Steve rubbed the back of his neck while he did it, whispering more praise. The humiliation went deep, and Bucky loved it like he loved pain, from that distant place where everything was a spectacle. It was a gift. It was for him.
When Bucky was done, he realized he didn’t have the strength to pull himself up again. But Steve didn’t make him. Steve was there, untying his legs so Bucky could curl up with his head in his lap. His breath still hitched at times, his face wet with tears. The toy finally slipped from his ass and hit the floorboards with a dull sound, rolling away. It made him gasp softly, twitching around emptiness, and Steve kissed him again, passionately, as if chasing this last little bit of humiliation into his mouth.
“Look at you,” he said hoarsely. He rubbed a thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone. “Is it okay to leave your arms like this for now?”
Bucky nodded. It was okay. Everything was so perfectly okay. His body was shaking with aftershocks of pleasure; his mind was expanding into blissful quietness. I love you, was all he could think anymore. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Maybe that’s all he’d ever been thinking, from the very start.
