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Surprisingly, Bucky was doing really well, all things considered. For once the wine was on his side, wasn’t making him want to act on his indecently horny thoughts. It did make him warm all over though, which leads to him leaning his head back onto the couch cushion behind his head, which then leads him to stretching his torso out with a small noise. Steve’s eyes are on the peek of tummy that the movement put on display immediately. Bucky doesn’t do anything to cover it up. That isn’t the point of this game.
“You good, Stevie?” he asks quietly, voice huskier because of both the alcohol and the growing tension. Steve is not quick to move his eyes away from Bucky’s exposed skin.
“A’course, Buck. Just peachy.” Cheap shot. Bucky simply hums in response, turns his eyes back to the TV playing in front of them. He has no idea what’s playing, doesn’t think Steve cared when he chose something on Netflix, quick to get settled on the couch.
“It’s from Tik Tok. It’s this...this ‘challenge’ of sorts.”
“Buck, you know I don’t understand Tik Tok. I don’t even know its purpose. Is it like Facebook?”
“No, you don’t have to know the purpose, that doesn’t matter. Nat showed me this challenge where couples drink a lot of wine and get drunk together but they can’t touch each other. And whoever touches the other first has to...has to give the other head.”
Bucky knew he had Steve hooked. Steve is stubborn as fuck and nothing gets him more riled up than competition. Bucky can barely get away with playing games without keeping score. “What’s the point if you don’t keep score, Bucky!” But in this scenario points don’t need to be tallied up when it’s a winner-takes-all kind of game. And the prize is sex and Steve loves sex. Competition and sex?
“You’re on, Barnes. Better get that pretty mouth ready.”
It was easy at first but that wasn’t surprising. Bucky has a mean competitive spirit as well, doesn’t come close to Steve’s, but if Steve thought he was in for a walk in the park he was sorely mistaken. Bucky was tactical, didn’t have an overarching plan but knew there were some things that were important to stick to. He needed to maintain his innocence while teasing, he needed to be confident, and he needed to refrain from calling Steve “Daddy” until he needed it the very most.
He also had a few cheap shots of his own tucked and hidden away in his back pocket to be used if needed.
Introducing this in the later afternoon turned out to not be the best idea on Bucky’s part. They had more than enough wine to get them through their mulish behavior, but Bucky hadn’t considered cooking dinner. The kitchen was a sexy room to them. Bucky hadn’t thought so before Steve but they could barely keep their hands off of each other in the kitchen. He was so used to feeling Steve’s lips on his neck, his hands on his waist, his hips, his shoulders. It was almost down to routine that either of them would have to kick the other out of the kitchen for fear of genuine safety concerns.
Cooking dinner was empty of all physical touch and it made Bucky realize he was so incredibly used to every casual touch that hadn’t transpired that night. He missed them. Both of them almost slipped up multiple times throughout the preparing and the eating of dinner: a hand on the lower back, a kiss to a cheek, a squeeze of a shoulder. At one point Steve growled, pretended to grab for Bucky and pull him to his mouth.
Bucky felt the alcohol begin to muck up his thoughts by the time Steve was opening up the second bottle of wine. Dinner was...difficult to get through. Steve insisted on feeding Bucky from a shared fork. Bucky was more than half-hard through the entire meal, was grateful to have something that resembled touching Steve, but also damn it to hell--he felt himself breaking. A shaky lean in on Bucky’s last bite had him feeling Steve’s breath on his lips. He pulled away and stood victoriously with a tsk and a smirk.
Bucky has rarely felt so powerful.
Moving to the living room and to opposite sides of the couch facing each other was when Bucky realized they wouldn’t be moving from this spot until one of them broke. He couldn’t keep the smirk off of his lips, a gentle tug in the corner, surely because of the wine but maybe because he was having fun teasing. He was quick to push the limits, snuck and slid his bare foot between Steve’s legs after he chose something they could pretend to watch on TV.
Steve didn’t even look down at Bucky’s foot as it pressed and rubbed against Steve’s dick confined by his sweatpants; he looked right up and over at Bucky with his chin tucked. Bucky didn’t look away.
“What’cha doin’, Buck?” His voice was like being wrapped up in velvet and it made Bucky want to moan like a goddamn whore.
“Doesn’t ‘touch’ imply hands only?” Bucky was fine with playing stupid even if he knows Steve can see right through the facade. He could feel the impressive line of Steve’s growing erection under the arch of his foot, rolled the ball of his foot into the meat of the base of Steve’s cock, his balls. Steve didn’t make a noise, didn’t pull his eyes away from Bucky’s, but grabbed his ankle with a bit of force. Bucky had watched as Steve pulled it up to his mouth, kissed delicately at equally delicate ankle bones.
“No touch at all , which means this is my free pass too,” Steve had clarified, pressed his lips into Bucky’s foot once more before playfully tossing it away. Touche. Bucky only pretended to pout because he knew how much the older man could barely withstand the force of his jutted bottom lip.
The more they sat there and acted like they were watching television and refilled their glasses the more Bucky wanted to crawl into Steve’s lap. It made him realize how accessible Steve made himself or naturally was to Bucky. The more Bucky drank the more he thought about how nice it would be to fill his mouth up with something else, to bury his face between Steve’s legs and take him deep in his throat. It made him want Steve’s encouraging voice, his “Yeah, just like that, sugar” s and his “Fuck, baby” s, his fingered buried in Bucky’s hair as his mouth worked sloppily on Daddy’s cock.
But this was a competition. This was a competition where the prize was the other person’s mouth. Bucky never won anything and he wanted this, would fight for it.
The peek of his stomach had Steve looking ravenous and it made Bucky’s fuzzy brain remind him of one of the tricks up his sleeve. With a large gulp of wine, he feels his heartbeat pick up its pace a bit, feels himself stir in his shorts. Confidence, Barnes.
“I’m bored. Let’s kick this up a notch,” he says, voice still uncharacteristically low, a bit wobbly and slurred from the wine. Of course he had acknowledged that he was much more likely to get drunk tonight than Steve was, but he had to admit that looking over at Steve with hooded eyes showed him flushed cheeks and a half-lidded gaze and quite a tented crotch of his sweatpants made him look more than tipsy.
Steve was on his way to caving and he didn’t even know it.
Steve gestures in front of him in a way that tells Bucky to proceed and Bucky is slow to ease into this, wants to make sure his thoughts are concise.
“If I could touch you right now,” he starts with his eyes unwavering on Steve’s own, “I would want to kiss you.” It’s tame, isn’t anything hot and heavy right out of the gate, and Steve observes Bucky with his chin tucked into his hand. He doesn’t speak so Bucky continues.
“I wanna suck on your tongue,” Bucky breathes but states in a matter-of-fact kind of fashion. “I know you like it when I do because your groans always go a little whiny, y’always grab for me a little harder. Do you like it when I suck on your tongue?”
A handful of sentences, one question, and Steve is already spreading his thighs on the couch, almost bumps knees with Bucky. He is more than aware of the fact that he is void of chances to let his own dirty talk slip through with the way Steve’s mouth runs and he wants to soak every second of this up like a sponge. His heart smacks against his ribcage when he decides Steve has been silent for too long and he hears himself whisper, “I asked you a question, Daddy.”
He doesn’t expect Steve to let out a noise that sounds like he’d been holding his breath and had gotten punched. It makes Bucky so hard so quickly that his balls ache.
“‘Course I like that, sugar. Like it a whole lot.” They take another sip of wine together. His hands tremble and he watches Steve’s shake.
“Know you like it when I bite at your chin, know your neck is more sensitive than any other part on your body. Wanna suck on that too, right... here. ” He points to himself, uses his own neck for show, a finger on his neck a few inches below his ear. Steve’s fingers twitch on his glass. Bucky feels like he’s ran a marathon and has a medal, like he aced Professor Banner’s thermo test. He’s said two dirty things and is questioning why he’s never done this more.
“You know what I’d do then?” he asks for shits and giggles, feels more in control than he arguably ever has. Steve responds with a husky, “What, baby?” and Bucky drawls, “I’d slip my lips down your body, get my mouth on those tits. Know you love the feeling of my mouth on your nipples, Daddy. Know I don’t do it enough.” Steve takes a deep breath, wipes his hand over his mouth, his chin, looks away from Bucky before quickly looking back. He’s seen Daddy hungry before but he isn’t quite sure if he’s seen Daddy eager before.
“I want my mouth on your cock.”
“ Fuckin’ hell ,” is all Steve rasps out and Bucky tries his hardest to hide his giggle behind another sip of wine. His glass is getting empty. He allows himself to moan a little, part for show and part for self-indulgence, digs his hips into the couch a bit and almost gives away his secret. He knows Steve would notice.
He’s feeling like a manipulative little shit, pitches his voice in the exact way he knows punches Steve right in the dick. “ God, Daddy don’t even have to tell you how much I love suckin’ on your cock. You already know, don’t you? Know how much I love havin’ you in my mouth?” Steve groans and shakes his head as he takes another drink that turns into him downing the rest of it.
“You’re always so fuckin’ hungry, babylove, slurp me right up like it’s the first time every fuckin’ time.” Steve’s voice is like gravel when he talks, so low that Bucky almost has to strain to hear it. Steve doesn’t let himself get sloppy drunk often and Bucky knows by the sway of his voice and the thickness of his accent that he’s well on his way. His dirty talk gets downright lewd when he even gets one drop of liquor in his system and to be working their way to their third bottle means there’s a chance that Bucky might come from Steve’s words alone.
“Was just thinkin’ about how good it feels to have my mouth full’a you. So heavy on my tongue. Would wanna get you nice and deep, would wanna swallow around you like you taught me. Would you squeeze my neck some? Help me take it all, Daddy?”
Steve brings a hand down to his own crotch.
All Bucky can do is blink and watch as Steve palms his own cock through his sweatpants, looks on through a hazy gaze as Steve arches a challenging eyebrow. There is no rule against touching yourself . Sneaky bastard. Bucky takes a drink.
“Would love to help you take all’a me, sugar but know you don’t need any help; you’re a natural little cockslut.” Bucky moans. It’s a broken noise, startled out of him, but one that is needy enough for Steve to begin to feel like he has the upper hand again apparently.
“Struck fuckin’ gold with you, baby. Just needed a firm hand and a smooth voice didn’t ya? Yeah? Just a natural.” Bucky rolls his bottom into the couch, chugs the rest of his wine with a small noise and he finds himself a little upset when he watches as Steve pulls his hand away from his dick. He wants to touch himself, wants to wrap a hand around his own raging erection, but he resists. He knows that what he has will be a much better payoff than his own hand.
“Daddy , just needed you all along, mhmm , but don’t distract me!” Bucky giggles as he barely manages to toss a pillow in Steve’s direction. He needs to stay strong. Steve looks like he wants to grab onto an ankle and yank him down the couch, eat him alive, but he’s chuckling too, “Sorry, sugar just can’t help it.” The wine and the wooziness make his transition seem smooth as he says, “Think I’d want you to fuck me after I was done suckin’ your cock.” The playful edge that had slipped into their conversation dissipates with those words. Steve’s eyes go dark. If everything goes according to plan Steve will–
“Fuck, wanna get my mouth on that boy pussy. D’you lemme, baby? Lemme return the favor?”
Bingo.
Even though Bucky’s heart beats against his chest at what he knows all of this is leading to, he can’t help but indulge a little bit, bite his bottom lip and respond with a simple and open, “Yeah?” They both know Bucky is a slut for Daddy eating him out and that coupled with alcohol has him not giving one single shit. Steve’s lips tug up in a filthy smirk and then he’s leaning forward in such a swift and slick movement that Bucky can’t even pull back in time. Feeling Steve’s breath on his open mouth makes him whine, makes him almost lose the game at how badly he wants to close the gap between them and feel those plush lips against his own.
“Yeah, sugar,” Steve purrs a little condescendingly, in a way that makes Bucky want to purr himself, “You’re such a sensitive little thing, know you love it when my tongue takes that pussy apart. You just squeal yourself silly when Daddy slurps and sucks at that little hole don’t ya, honey?” Fuck. This might be Bucky’s breaking point. He can almost feel Daddy’s tongue on his hole, his taint, his balls, can almost feel the way Daddy’s beard feels between his legs giving him a little burn as he eats so vigorously, and it makes his lips tug up somewhat when he runs his own tongue along the front of his teeth.
“You know I fuckin’ do, you’re so good at it, Daddy. What about after that, or...or during that?” He sounds incredibly eager when he says it, his voice going a little whiny, but it’s all fine. He turns his head as he speaks, mimicking the way he’d turn his head if Steve’s lips were on his own. They’re dangerously close to ending this game, dangerously close to one another, but that doesn’t stop Daddy as he chuckles and whispers, “Would feed that greedy pussy some fingers.”
Bucky groans into Steve’s open mouth, a throaty noise, doesn’t touch him by some sort of miracle. Steve’s fingers dig into the couch between them and Bucky’s eager, too eager, reaches for the hem of his shirt. He pulls it up and over his head swiftly, revels in Steve’s confused look turning into a hungry one.
“What’s this?”
Bucky leans back, lets his fingers delicately trail down his chest, his stomach, watches Steve watch his hand. He’s finally palming his own dick when he whimpers, “Wanna be naked when you suck my cock, Daddy.” Steve guffaws, tilts his head back to the ceiling and laughs heartily at the blatant suggestion that Bucky is going to win this contest. His chuckle turns into a playful groan and then he’s got his own shirt pulled up and off his body, tosses it to the floor.
It makes total sense that Steve would reach for his sweats but Bucky isn’t prepared. The wine is making him a bit fuzzy but seeing Steve’s cock smack up against his stomach when he pulls his pants down his thighs makes Bucky go dizzy. Bucky has to close his eyes in order to not throw himself into Daddy’s lap. He feels Steve settle back into the couch and he has to pull out the big guns, has to win this.
“What’s next, Buck? Bet you’d want two fingers, wouldn’t even want me to get to three,” and Bucky’s eyes snap open, “You’d want it to hurt a little wouldn’t you, baby? Just a bit? Just enough to remind you that your Daddy fucks you better than you’ve ever been fucked?”
Now.
“Wouldn’t have to worry about that, Daddy…”
His voice is smooth like silk when he gets it out and the look Steve gives him is a drunkenly confused one, one accompanied with a slow blink. Daddy has pretty eyelashes.
“Babylove, always gotta finger you open, make sure your ready, drunk no-touchy game or not.” Bucky dips his chin, licks his bottom lip.
“Maybe I got somethin’ else helpin’ me stay all ready and wet for you.”
Bucky holds his breath as he looks up at Daddy through his lashes and there’s no better feeling than watching the realization wash over the older man’s features. Steve has an alcohol-fueled dopey look on his face, is leaning back against the opposite arm of the couch naked and so fucking distractingly beautiful. His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion and then Bucky’s mouth waters when he sees Steve’s cock jump on his stomach.
Bingo.
Steve’s eyes go a tad wide and Bucky can tell he resists the mighty urge to sit up straight.
“Bullshit,” Steve mumbles, his hand wiping down and over his mouth, his chin, in sheer reaction. Bucky plays it cool, averts his eyes, shrugs a bit. He doesn’t do anything to stop the giggle that gives away his secret, can almost feel how badly Steve wants to touch him. He’s going to win this fucking game.
“Oh Bucky, baby prove it. Show me, fuck show Daddy,” and there isn’t a better sound than Steve Rogers begging to see your boy pussy holding onto a pretty plug. Every bone in Bucky’s body wants to react, wants to listen to Daddy’s command, but he remains steely, continues to press the heel of his hand against the front of his shorts. Steve makes a noise that sounds so similar to a growl that it makes Bucky want to whimper and roll over onto all fours.
“You ready to suck my cock, Daddy? ‘Cause once you see I know you’ll want to touch.”
“Show me,” is all Steve rumbles and Bucky is rising on shaky legs, listening to Daddy as he is told. He pushes messily at the waistband of his shorts, struggles with them until he can finally kick them down and off his legs. Steve openly makes a pleased noise once Bucky is naked, his hand even coming up and off the couch momentarily. Bucky is shaky when he turns and knows that Steve is nowhere near prepared for Bucky to climb onto the couch facing away from him. It doesn’t stop him, does anything but stops him, and he lets himself fall forward onto his elbows, couch cushion soft below all of his limbs. His knees dig into the material as he arches his back just how Daddy likes and he goes the extra mile here when it counts the most.
The soft fabric is somewhat soothing beneath his cheek as he takes his arms, his hands, reaches behind him and–
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
It’s something between a shout and a roar, a noise that is equal parts aroused and fired up, Steve a little more than upset at coming to terms with his loss. Bucky whimpers as he spreads his cheeks to show Daddy the pretty plug nestled between them. He tries to imagine what he looks like here on their couch, in their living room, drunk on white wine and spread open wide like he’s on display. The plug he chose is one of their favorites, is simple and silver, but there lies a pretty blue jewel at the base. It makes Bucky feel like a treasure.
“Fucking hell , Bucky you played me like a fuckin’ fiddle, didn’t you? Been hidin’ this thing pretty thing inside’a ya all fuckin’ night?”
Bucky isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or the emotion that makes Steve use the f-word numerous times in one simple sentence but he doesn’t mind one bit. Steve groans at the sight, frantically says to Bucky, “Touch yourself c’mon, sugar pull it out a little and then– yes, that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it.”
Bucky’s noises are muffled and high-pitched as he lets his ass cheeks go and reach back between his legs to grasp the base of the plug, pushes before he pulls a little. He says Steve’s name when he feels the strain of it pull on his rim, tugs and pushes repeatedly a few good times. His dick aches between his legs and he wants to tug on that too, is very greedy.
“Daddy, want...want you to help me. Please? Oh, Daddy this little plug doesn’t...doesn’t f-fill me up like you do. Want you, oh god. ”
Bucky can barely get through his own pleas, chokes on his own words, swallows audibly. He wants Daddy to fuck him, wants Daddy’s mouth on his hole and his cock, wants complete and total victory. He can hear Steve groan, can tell it’s between his teeth, can barely make out his hand on his own cock, but Bucky knows that noise. He pushes the plug in and presses , his moan turning into a squeal at the feel of it just barely grazing his own sweet spot. His toes curl nonetheless.
“This was cheap, Barnes so fuckin’ cheap. You know I can’t resist you fuckin’...bein’ bossy and confident and that fuckin’ pussy, goddamnit.” Bucky arches his back in response, sobs out his most pitiful, “Daddy!” to date and he blessedly hears Steve shuffle on the couch with more curses under his breath. Steve hates losing and Bucky revels in it, soaks in it, in him being able to have this one moment for himself.
Steve is telling him all about how he’s going to eat him out until he’s weeping, how he’s going to make Bucky beg for everything, for anything, and Bucky feels a palm come down to grip his ass.
Game over.
Steve moans, a noise from deep within that muscled chest, as he watches Bucky pull the plug from his ass. He gives him a real good show, is slow to pull at the metal at the widest part, is sure to make a few small noises, and he’s so very grateful when Steve takes the plug from his hand and rests it somewhere beside them. Bucky is panting when Steve grabs at his ass, two large hands, squeezing, one coming down onto a cheek hard.
“Gonna get my mouth on this pussy now, boy gonna give you just what you want gonna–” Steve’s words are cut off but a hand tight in his hair as he bends down. It’s Bucky’s hand but he feels like he isn’t the one in charge, that some other much more confident vixen is the one controlling his actions. Daddy’s mouth is inches from his hole and he has a hand pulling that silky hair taut from behind, leaning up on his knees a bit. Steve doesn’t move, let’s out a small grunt.
“You lose, Steve.” Steve has the audacity to huff. Bucky tugs a bit harder. “Say it. Say I won, Rogers.”
Steve kneads at Bucky’s ass in a rough way that has him contemplating the course of events that led them here, that led him to being held inches from his boy’s ass being told what to do.
“ God, you win, Buck you fuckin’ win.”
Bucky wins.