Chapter Text
James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky to those who were lucky enough to know it and Sin Himself to those lucky enough to see him perform, was the most notorious yet anonymous man in all of Brooklyn. His days were spent preparing drinks and serving food at the local bar owned by his war buddies and his nights at the Lucky Seven’s strip club where one could find him dressed in fine revealing outfits that put all the other dancers to shame, regardless of gender.
Every evening he wore a mask that covered the bottom half of his face, leaving only his eyes and that beautiful lithe body to view. Not even the other dancers knew his real name, what his face looked like, nor what his day job was or where he lived. He was known only as the Soldier, the name he took when seducing anyone privileged enough to see him sway his hips on that stage or privately for those who could afford it. Still, he never spoke, not even to his regular customers who paid his rent two times over in one sitting. Those eyes though, those were enough to get him anything and anyone he wanted. They were his weapon of choice and had gotten him both in and out of many situations, both good and bad.
There were a few customers who he let take him around back and fuck him until he shouldn’t be able to walk much less dance, but he always left the room with those hips swaying sinfully. As was required, those customers produced regular documents proclaiming them free of any sexually transmitted diseases and protection was always, always involved.
Point was, whether in lacy panties or casual clothes, men and women alike swooned over the same long-haired man.
Unfortunately, it was just that: lust. The women all wanted him to bend them over a table for a couple of nights, the men either wanted to fuck him senseless or vice versa. They all ended the same way; a one (or couple) night stand and then zip.
Bucky, for the most part, didn’t mind. Most of them he turned down unless of course they were well-paying clients, and he was perfectly fine being alone, thank you very much Natasha . He mostly never gave them a second glance.
At least not until one night when he was upside-down on a pole, dog tags threatening to fall off his neck, caught only by the clasp of his mask. He scanned the crowd, something he did on a regular basis while performing. The more he could draw in with his eyes, the more would be willing to throw some extra bills on stage.
What? Any extra he made always went to the local VA.
He saw some regulars, one or two of his special clients, but only one really caught his eye. It was someone new, or at least that he’d never seen before- and Bucky knew he’d remember seeing such a gorgeous sight. He was near the front of the stage and was the very definition of tall, blond, and handsome. He was well-built (and wearing a gloriously tight t-shirt that looked two sizes too small) with broad shoulders and a trim waist, had a strong jaw and facial features, and was watching Bucky with a slight amused smirk.
He was perfect prey.
The Soldier maneuvered himself upright and slid down the pole in one fluid motion before stalking to the edge of the stage. Tonight he wore one of his favorite outfits, one that perfectly complimented his persona: black combat boots, an empty thigh holster, very tight and very short black shorts with a belt, black fingerless gloves, another empty gun holster around his shoulders, and his signature dog tags, which he only ever wore on stage or during the daytime. They were his actual dog tags from his days in the marines, and though they looked marvelous on stage he never risked letting clients know his identity. The whole look was tied together with his hair tastefully messy and dark makeup around his eyes.
This guy was different; for some reason Bucky couldn’t give two shits whether he knew. He wasn’t sure why, it just felt like some unspeakable familiarity.
That’s a romantic idea, isn’t it? Love at first sight in a strip club?
He reached the edge of the stage where spectators tucked cash into his boots; the only place they were ever allowed to touch unless otherwise specified. His own rules.
The Soldier knelt and curled his finger in a beckoning motion at the man, who only tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. Some other guy (also handsome, but not quite as stunning as the blond) nudged his arm and urged him on. Bucky reached out a hand, which the man took, and hefted him onto stage. He kept his gasp on the guy’s hand and led him to the center of the stage before moving his grip to the man’s hip, pulling him close and running the other hand through his hair sensually.
“Is this okay?” He asked, close to his ear and just loud enough to be heard through his muffling mask and over the music. The man glanced back at his friend before looking back, grinning and giving a slight nod.
“If at any point you’re uncomfortable, safe word’s ‘winter.’” Bucky replied, thankful the mask hid his grin. Few people got this treatment and normally scheduled it in advance with high pay, and even they didn’t hear his voice- those contracts were taken care by Natasha, who happened to work at the club. She and the actual owner were the only two in the club who knew his identity outside of entertainment.
A man dressed in all black placed a chair behind the blond. He gave a short nod to the crewman to change the music- it was time for the song, the one he’d been saving for a particularly good dance. He wasn’t exactly in his stripping attire since tonight was aimed more towards pole dancing, but Bucky could make do.
When the music started, Bucky slowly lowered the blond into the chair by way of a hand against his chest. He circled the chair predatorily with each step to the beat, one hand trailing along the man’s chest and shoulders the entire time, eyes never leaving his prey. He came to a rest in front of him and Bucky ran both hands along the man’s broad shoulders before placing his legs on either side of the chair, rolling his hips a few times for show. He crossed his arms behind his head, hands winding down either side of his neck and down his chest until they landed on his belt buckle.
“From up here you can’t beat the view…” damn straight, Bucky thought.
He deftly unbuckled it in the small silence of the song, quickly sliding the belt free with one hand and earning a cheer from the crowd when it dropped again.
He smirked beneath the mask when the man’s eyes darted from Bucky’s eyes to the belt and back again. He played with the belt for a few beats, winding it over both hands while his body kept the motion going. When he was satisfied, he lowered himself into the man’s lap and ran his hands down the man’s chest. He both saw and felt the familiar outline of dog tags beneath his shirt and glanced back up. While he kept moving to give the crowd a show, he leaned close again.
“Vet?” He asked, his face blocking the man’s from the crowd’s view for him to answer. He received another nod in return. “I’m going to buckle this around your wrists. I’ll keep it loose, you’ll be able to get free easily. Is that okay?” He checked. He knew what triggered his bad memories, but wanted to check in with this man. His clients’ comfort always came first.
“You’re grounding enough.” He answered, and damn even his voice was hot.
“Anything triggers you, you use that safe word and I’ll stop immediately.” Bucky reassured lowly. The man lifted his hands and gave him a challenging look. He couldn’t help the low chuckle that left his lips as he wrapped the belt around loosely, true to his word.
The dance went wonderfully, and if he was judging by the way the man’s tight pants had somehow gotten even tighter by the end of it, it was successful. Bucky was thankful his own shorts disguised his arousal well.
For most people he brought on stage, it was just a routine. It was mostly just to give the crowd a show, something nice to think about later in their beds. It was easy to go through the motions without his body reacting in ways he didn’t want it to on stage. This man, though, seemed to be an exception. Bucky couldn’t give two shits about the cheers in the audience, he just cared about pleasing the man in front of him.
Easy, Barnes, he scolded himself, this guy’s just a dance, not a client.
When he led the guy back off stage to finish his night on the pole (unfortunately not the one he had in mind), he found his gaze consistently wandering back to the blond adonis. He swore the fucker knew it too, always catching his eyes and watching with that amused expression.
Unfortunately, when he was done for the night the man and his friend took off. Natasha, who’d watched the whole thing unfold, teased him endlessly backstage and all the way back to their apartment complex.
“ You think he’s goooorgeous, you want to kiiiiiiss him, you want to looooove him, you want to smoooooch him. ” She sang.
“Yeah, fuck you Miss Congeniality.” He returned gruffly. Thankfully by that point they had reached his apartment where they parted and she headed on to hers down the hall. Before he could even fix himself a meager dinner of ramen, he got a text from her. It was the Miss Congeniality gif accompanied by:
I can already hear you jackin it
He rolled his eyes, but then again once his exhausted ass was in bed...she wasn’t exactly wrong.