Work Text:
I'll Carve Into Your Ribs. Leave You Crying For A Kiss, Just For Kicks
The movement of the chain was limited, only giving Bucky access to the right side of the room – the bathroom, wardrobe, bedroom door and his half of the bed. It was longer than he would have liked and the cuff connecting him to the chain as in the wrong place – his ankle, not neck he like had asked. But Steve insisted if they were going to do this it, it would be done his way. Steve’s way included a longer chain with a wider amount of movement as opposed to what Bucky had asked for – a tight collar around his neck with the inability to move at all, lest he wanted to be choked.
Steve had left earlier that morning without an explanation – Bucky clearly not deserving one – and he’s trying hard not to count the seconds between Steve leaving and coming back. After attaching the ankle cuff to him Steve removed the both the wall and alarm clocks from the room. If he wanted to Bucky could easily guess the time but he doesn’t. If Steve takes out all the clocks from the room the means Bucky doesn’t need to know the time.
Instead of fussing around about the time he sits down next to the anchor that the chain is attacked to. There’s a quick release snap attacked to both the anchor and the ankle cuff. It’s another one of Steve’s precautions - just in case, he said. Both he and Bucky know that Bucky could remove the quick releases to attach the chain directly to the cuff and anchor. He doesn’t do that, though, because he knows that doing that would make Steve more than angry at him. There’s good angry and then there’s bad angry and doing anything that could put him in danger would make Steve bad angry.
He’s bored now – very bored. He’s already cleaned the bathroom and what he can of the bedroom – twice and he’s not too sure what there is for him to do. Steve didn’t give him any instructions when he left. It was quite the opposite in fact; Steve had ignored him as if he was just another piece of furniture in the bedroom – a very ugly statue, Bucky’s brain supplied. He could read or watch the TV that sits on the dresser opposite the bed but there’s something about being chained up that makes Bucky want to useful.
It had stemmed from his time as Hydra’s asset, he assumes, but he isn’t too sure. Steve told him that he used to do something similar to this before the war but he doesn’t really remember it – more domestic and less ‘slave-like’, Steve said. Whenever he got chained up as the Winter Soldier it was for punishment and torture and he knows that Steve would never hurt him like they did. Instead they were doing this and Steve was hurting him like this because he had asked for it. Before Steve left he had tried to thank him for this, but Steve had quickly buckled the leather muzzle over his face; a more practical version of his Winter Soldier mask.
He was to be seen and not heard. Steve doesn’t expect his coat rack to speak so why should Bucky? He casted his eyes down in apology.
The longer he sits there the more restless Bucky becomes. He’s legs are twitching and his fingers fidget – itching to do something. He goes through the mental list of things he could possibly do during this time: organise their sock draw by colour; order their shirts from most to least worn; alphabetically arrange everything in their medical cabinet.
As the time passes Bucky becomes more and more restless, his leg bounces and fingers fidget – itching to do something. He goes through the mental list of things he could possible do during this time: organise their socks in order of colour, order the shirts in the closet from most to least worn, alphabetically arrange everything in their medical cabinet.
It’s by idea number eight that Bucky hears the front door unlock: Steve’s home.
He doesn’t come into the bedroom immediately but does something around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet and fridge doors. Bucky’s not too sure what Steve’s doing – probably wasting time and building anticipation. Bucky’s almost ready to scream – cursing himself for his impatience – by the time the bedroom door finally opens.
When Steve comes in Bucky catches himself staring before stopping. He isn’t allowed to make eye contact without permission. Steve’s dressed as if he’s been out running with Sam, but asides from the faint sweat patches on his shirt around his pits it doesn’t look like he’s been. Not that he ever does though. Asides from briefly glancing in Bucky’s direction to ensure he’s still in the bedroom Steve doesn’t pay him too much mind. He walks around the room, removing items from his pockets and putting them in their rightful places. He removes his watch from his wrist and places it on his bedside table. He moves to sit in the middle of the bed at the end.
“Come here,” he orders.
Bucky crawls forward all awkward and clumsily at first with the way the chain’s wrapped around him and Steve snorts lightly in amusement when Bucky almost trips himself around the chain. When he reaches Steve he sits back on his knees, head bowed and arms folded behind his back – a perfect picture of submission. “Look at me,” he says and Bucky does so, quick and obedient, and Steve unbuckles the muzzle and sets it aside on the bed. He softly massages the feeling back into Bucky’s jaw although it isn’t entirely necessary. “Take my shoes off”. Bucky reaches forward to start untying Steve’s double knots when a sharp and sudden impact cracks against his cheek. Steve had slapped him. “With your teeth,” he says as if it should have been obvious before.
It should have been obvious – Steve didn’t tell him to use his hands.
“Yes sir,” Bucky says and leans forward, hands behind his back again, and kisses the toes of the shoes before he starts picking at the knots with his teeth.
It had taken a few attempts and discusses for them to find terms and names that they were both okay with. Eventually they settled either just Steve or sir, depending on the intensity of the scenes. Bucky’s been known to slip out a Captain once or twice when feeling extra bratty because there’s something about threats of corporal punishment that makes Bucky’s insides twist and tighten with arousal. Bucky’s only request was that Steve can’t call him sergeant or solider.
But that’s okay because it turns out Steve likes to call him names.
The stinging flesh of Bucky’s slapped cheek rubs against the carpet beneath him and the material of Steve’s trainers and he feel the already red skin being rubbed raw. It could bruise. It could bruise for a long time, he thinks. The slap was hard, with most of Steve’s superhuman strength behind it. Sure, he was given his own serum to but it wasn’t as good as Steve’s. Besides, even if it doesn’t bruise for long he could always dream. Or ask Steve to slap him again and again everyday so his cheek always look red and bruised.
Untying and loosening the laces of the shoes is one thing but taking off the shoes is another thing entirely. Bucky’s thankful when Steve kicks him out of the way, muttering something about Bucky being useless and no good at anything and does it himself. Bucky stares hopelessly at Steve’s hands doing what should have been his job. After the shoes are set off to the side Bucky goes and to kiss the tips of Steve’s socked toes but is kicked again in the slapped cheek. Steve nods wordlessly at the trainers with a raised eyebrow. It takes a second for Bucky to understand what Steve means but it’s a second too long for Steve and he kicked him in his cheek again, softer this time – a warning.
Bucky takes the shoes by the laces and crawls over to the wardrobe. Thankfully he doesn’t get in trouble when he opens the wardrobe doors with his hands. The black mesh bag that Steve likes to keep his trainers in sits on the bottom shelf along with their other shoes and miscellaneous stuff. The stores the shoes in the bag before closing the door and crawling back over to Steve. He gets a mocking pat on the cheek – a well done.
This time Steve doesn’t push him away when he bends down to kiss each toe individually, although he does make a sound in the back of his throat. He has an eyebrow raised when Bucky looks up at him through his lashes. “What?” Bucky asks.
“That’s disgusting. I’ve been running. I’ve been sweating”.
Bucky licks a long stripe from Steve’s big to little toe, savouring the taste of sweaty cotton, “I know”.
“You’re disgusting,” Steve says, trying to force both of his feet into Bucky’s mouth. A muffled I know doesn’t quite make it through the gagging feet. Lint from the socks gets stuck on his tongue and Bucky swallows them. He is disgusting – eating sweaty sock lint.
Steve takes one of his feet from Bucky’s mouth and places it on Bucky’s head, harshly pushing down. The force is nice – grounding – and Bucky grabs Steve’s ankle to try and force it down harder. Steve lightens the pressure.
They stay like that for a while: Bucky staring up at Steve from below, sucking on his toes with Steve looking down at him, twiddling his thumbs and looking at Bucky like he’s bored – like its Bucky’s fault they’re just sitting there.
It is Bucky’s fault. Bucky’s not being entertaining enough for him.
Steve takes away both feet and Bucky whines in complaint but doesn’t do much else about it. “How about we go out to the lounge room?” he asks and it’s not a question but Bucky nods in agreement regardless.
Standing, Steve leaves Bucky sprawled out on the floor as he approaches the dresser drawer that they keep their toys in. He replaces the muzzle back in the drawer and takes something else out but Bucky can’t see. On top of the dresser sits Bucky’s collar – plain black leather with a d-ring attached to the front – and Steve grabs that too.
Bucky trained his eyes when Steve comes back over his way but catches the thing that he took from the drawer – his leash. The handle of the leash is the same type of butter soft leather as the collar with the rest of it a silver chain. Bucky wasn’t sure exactly where Steve brought it but he’s seen the same sort of leash in Petco. Something burns inside of Bucky at the thought of Steve talking to the nice, innocent person at the pet shop about whatever dog he was buying the leash for. Bucky wonders what breed of dog Steve pretended he was.
Steve makes quick work of taking the ankle cuff off but takes his time curling it up neatly against the wall near the anchor. “Eyes up,” he says he says when he sits back down on the edge of the bed. Bucky’s eyes go up. Steve holds up the collar and leash for Bucky’s inspection and Bucky nods – an okay. Steve buckles the collar around Bucky’s neck with quick but careful fingers. Bucky’s body slumps forward involuntary the second the collar is around his neck. Nothing pulls him down deeper than his collar. A strong hand yanks roughly at Bucky’s hair, forcing him back up.
One hand is wrapped around the loop of the leash and the other one tugs on Bucky’s hair twice – up, it means and Bucky gets on his hands and knees. “Good boy,” Steve says, well more like how someone coos at a particularly cute dog. A thought crosses his mind.
“Sir?” he asks.
“What is it?” he asks, like he’s angry about his plans being side-tracked.
“Am I a cute dog?”
Steve laughs particularly harsh, “you’re a dog but not a really cute one. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Bucky scrunches his nose and shakes his head, “not really”.
Steve sighs and runs a hand across his face, frustrated, and asks, “then what did you want to hear?”
Bucky shrugs his shoulders as best he can in his position, “that I’m cute… or pretty… or something like that”.
“Maybe before, but now? No, not so much. Like look at this,” Steve says and kicks Bucky’s stomach, “I ‘member when you turned down… what was her name? Cecelia Milton, yeah that it. you turned down Cecelia Milton because you thought she was a little too chunky to dance with you. But look at you now,” Steve lets out a low whistle and kicks Bucky’s belly again “you might be bigger than her”.
Steve’s not lying, not exactly. Since finally joining Steve in the tower Bucky has had put on more than a few pounds. He might have his own version of the super serum but doing nothing but just sitting on your ass eating pizza and watching the Discovery channel would do that to anyone, super soldier metabolism or not.
Steve might be lying about the Cecelia Milton thing though, he’s not sure. The name doesn’t ring a bell but not many things do nowadays.
“Now are we done with stupid, pointless questions? I kind of had plans for the day and I don’t want your particularly dumb thoughts ruining it for me”.
Bucky nods, “yes sir”.
“Good boy,” he repeats and tugs on Bucky’s the leash – a silent command to move.
They walk together to the lounge room, Bucky always crawling a few steps behind Steve – a respectful distance. The coffee table in the middle of the seating area is pushed back slightly, giving Bucky the perfect amount of space when he kneels at Steve feet. Steve ties the leash around the leg of the coffee table more for added effect than anything; the thought of Bucky being tied there helplessly good enough for Bucky to pretend.
Steve grabs Bucky by the chin and forces Bucky to look him in the eyes, “so as I said I have plans for the day. Those plans are writing mission reports,” he explains as if he’s talking to an idiot, “and do you want to know what you’re gonna be doing?”
“Yes sir”.
“You’re going to sit there, on your knees and you’re going to keep my cock warm. But don’t you dare suck. If you so dare even think about sucking you won’t like how that will end”.
Bucky’s not too sure because he thinks he might like how that will end. “Yes sir, no sucking”.
“Good,” Steve says, not really complimenting Bucky though, and pulls his dick out of his sweats, “remember, no sucking, I have something important to do and I don’t need you fucking that up”.
Bucky smirks, “I think I might have a more important job to do”.
Steve snorts, “and you thought you’d be a cute dog. There’s a reason why I tell you to keep your dumb thoughts to yourself. Let me just do all the thinking alright? Don’t hurt your ugly little head about it”.
“Okay sir”.
“I didn’t realise I brought you out here to talk to me. I could’ve sworn I brought you out here to keep my dick warm”.
“You did sir”.
A harsh slap stings Bucky’s cheek – the same one as before – but the strong hand on his chin stops his face from moving. It hurts more than if he was able to be thrown off by the impact. “One: I don’t need you to tell me what we’re doing, and two: what did I say about talking?” When Bucky doesn’t reply Steve removes his hand and kisses the index and middle fingers and presses them to Bucky’s slapped cheek – a reward. “Ready?” he asks but doesn’t wait for a reply before feeding his soft cock into Bucky’s mouth.
Steve reaches over Bucky’s head to grab a manila folder from the coffee table – the mission reports. He crosses one of his legs over the other, trapping Bucky in-between his legs as he uses them as a makeshift table. It feels nice, to be trapped down there.
Time passes – how long, Bucky doesn’t really know. His jaw is starting to ache and his knees are hurting from their hardwood flooring. He’s lost himself in the haziness of his own mind long ago – a nice break from reality to focus on the floating feelings in his brain. Nothing much but too much at the same time. He’s feeling a completeness that he has rarely felt in… in he doesn’t know how long – before the war, probably.
Bucky’s too-much-but-not-enough is broken when Steve shuffles above him, throwing the folder back down on the coffee table. He runs a hand through Bucky hair, tugging at the knots Bucky didn’t know how he got. “How you doing down there? Good, probably,” he says, oddly affectionate despite everything else he’s said and done earlier, “you did well – didn’t even suck once. I think you might actually deserve a reward”. The keyword there, Bucky notes, is might. “How about this: you can pick your reward. But whatever you pick you gotta remember that either you or I can come, but not the both of us. Choose carefully”.
Steve uncrosses his legs, allowing Bucky to pull back. He lets Steve limp cock fall from his mouth and rests his head against Steve’s thigh, breathing heavy and trying to work some feeling back into his jaw. “You can please fuck my face, sir?” he asks.
“Is that what you want?” Steve asks, “when was the last time I let you come, anyway?”
Bucky thinks – it’s been a while, “almost a month?” he guesses.
“About that – one month and three weeks. You still don’t want to come?”
“No sir,” Bucky replies without hesitation.
“Then what are you waiting for? A written invitation from the queen?”
“No sir”.
“Then get to it”.
“I thought you were gonna fuck my face, sir?”
“Well, I can’t use your mouth if my dick’s soft, can I?” he explains as if he was talking to a very stupid child.
He’s talking to Bucky so it’s basically the same thing.
“No sir, you can’t”.
Steve repeats himself in a sighing tone, “then get to it”.
Bucky gets to it. He takes the base of it in his hand – the flesh one – and licks the underside with a broad, flat tongue, swirling his tongue around the head of Steve’s dick. He’s not hard yet but he’s twitching interestingly in Bucky’s hand, causing Bucky’s own dick is throb and mouth to water. He closes his eyes and focuses on the task at hand. He isn’t allowed to come so there’s no need to focus on his own dick.
Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, tugging on it. Bucky centres every part of himself on getting Steve hard – kissing and licking up and down and softly sucking the tip in his mouth. Bucky eagerly responds as Steve hardens in his mouth. He doesn’t remember much about his life before becoming Hydra’s fist but there is one thing he remembers and that’s that he’s a grade-A cocksucker. Steve uses the grip on Bucky’s hair to force him down further, gagging him at the sudden intrusion, “come on, you can do better than that sweetheart,” he says, mockingly kind, “otherwise I might have to take care of this myself,” he punctures this with a particularly tough thrust of his hips.
Bucky doubles his efforts, loosening his throat and taking Steve cock all the way down, lips stretched wide around the thick girth. He holds Steve in one hand and massages his balls with the other as Steve finally starts to shallowly but deeply thrust into the wet heat. Disgusting wet gurgling noises fill the living room along with Steve soft, breathy praises and Bucky’s own despite moans when he tastes the first drop of precome on his tongue. “I’m gonna start now, alright?”
Not a pretend question, Bucky nods as best he can with a cock in his mouth. Steve readjusts his grip on Bucky hair before pulling out and thrusting, fast and rough, back in. On every thrust his cockhead nudges the back of Bucky’s throat and obscene sounds fill the room. Bucky gags and chokes around a particularly harsh thrust, spluttering spit everywhere and tears start to well up in his eyes. He’s looking pretty disgusting and Steve manages to tell him so between deep groans.
Suddenly and without warning Steve thrusts into Bucky’s mouth and holds him down, nose pressed against the patch of hairs above Steve’s dick. Bucky’s thankful for his superhuman breathing abilities – there’s no way a normal human could hold their breath so long with a cock so large in their mouth. The tears that started welling up in Bucky’s eyes start to fall freely down his flushed face. “You’re so good at this, aren’t you?” Steve says, “you love my cock don’t you? You’d happily die down there, choking on it”.
The worst thing about that is that Steve probably doesn’t know how true that is.
Bucky’s not too sure how long Steve held his head down, mouth pleasantly full of cock and eyes filled with pain-pleasure tears. He’s not thinking too hard about much, just about working his tongue and throat just right to try and made Steve come. Finally, when everything starts to become white and fuzzy around the edges Steve finally pulls Bucky off with wetting popping sound. Spit is everywhere, coating Steve’s dick and saliva is dripping sloppy from his red-raw lips. He lets the huge amounts of thick saliva that had built up in his mouth spill over and Steve rubs it into his face, mixing tears and spit together. Steve makes a repulsed face and wipes his hands on Bucky’s hair, “gross,” is all he says and Bucky thrusts wildly up into nothing.
The smallest amount of humiliation is always the best. There’s something more personal about it, less rehearsed and as if those were Steve’s real thoughts instead of things he had scripted for himself earlier that day.
“Open up,” Steve says, tapping his dick on Bucky’s slicked cheek “you better make me come this time”.
“Or what?” Bucky says, his voice all rough and absolutely wrecked.
“Or nothing,” Steve says with a nonchalant shrug, “I’ll just have to keep going, won’t I?”
Bucky shudders, almost coming in his own pants at the thought. Deep down he knows that Steve wouldn’t continue using his throat if he passed out but it thought of the threat’s enough.
Bucky licks his lips, swallows and opens his mouth and Steve feeds his dick back inside. It’s easier the second time around – his throat used to the punishment. Every time he feels like he’s worked out the rhythm Steve changes it up and all Bucky can do is brace his hands against Steve’s legs and keep his mouth wide open. Involuntarily Bucky’s eyes slide close and Steve roughly shakes Bucky’s hair by the roots, “eye’s open, looking at me,” he says.
Bucky keeps his eyes open, staring obediently up at Steve, who has his head thrown back, soft grunts and groans mixed with cut off fucks and just like thats. Bucky does everything that he can to bring Steve closer to the edge – swallowing around and lightly scraping his along the length – everything that he knows that Steve likes. “Fuck… that’s good,” Steve grunts out, “but not good enough. I’d like to come tonight, James”.
James. The name spurs him on and, hot and desperate, he doubles his efforts. The precome is flowing freely now and it tastes so good. The good feeling stretch of his lips and throat are starting to burn with overuse. Steve looks down at him, eyes boring into Bucky’s own and the only warning Bucky gets is a low fuck before Steve is coming down his throat.
The first burst of Steve’s come takes him off guard and he barely manages to keep it inside his mouth. He does though and sucks Steve through the rest of his orgasm, milking his cock of every drop of come he has to offer. One of the best bonuses of the serum is that fact that when Steve comes, he comes – so much and so deeply into Bucky’s mouth. By the time Steve’s done coming down his throat Bucky’s gasping desperately for air.
Steve’s looking down at him barely breathing differently or face flushed – hardly any signs that he had done anything more than filling out mission reports. Bucky pout at this as Steve tucks himself back inside his pants. “What’s the matter?” Steve says, running a hand through Bucky’s sweat soaked hair.
“Can I have a kiss?” Bucky asks before remember to add, “sir”.
Steve smiles, all kind and sweet like how he does it to the kids at the hospital, “of course, you have been such a good boy today”. Bucky grins and lifts himself up on his knees to lean up and pressed his lips to Steve’s. It’s their first kiss of the entire day and Bucky melts into it. As much as he loves it when they do this there’s nothing Buck craves more than the feeling of Steve’s kisses. He’d throw away everything just for one. He’s a possessed man when it comes to kissing Steve.
The second Steve’s tongue finds its way into Bucky’s mouth Steve’s pulling away and harshly slapping Bucky across the face. “Your mouth tastes worse than death, fucking hell”.
Bucky licks around the inside of his mouth, trying to taste what could be so bad but all he can taste is Steve’s come “it’s not so bad,” Bucky says because it’s true.
“Do you still wanna kiss?”
Bucky nods his head violently, “yes please, sir, please”.
Steve smiles fondly, if not a bit sick of Bucky’s shit, “okay then,” he says untying the leash from the table leg, “come with me”.
Bucky crawls after Steve, not only because he’s meant to be but also because he knows his knees wouldn’t be able to support his sluggish weight quite right. When Steve leads them through the bedroom and into the bathroom Bucky assumes that Steve’s just going to have him brush his teeth. Steve’s always been a little obsessed with personal hygiene but that’s normal – he’s been like that since Bucky had first met him, a side effect of his poor health growing up.
So when Steve ties the leash around the bar of the towel rack and begins to rile through the cabinets and drawers of the counter. Bucky’s confused.
He keeps his dumb thoughts to himself though.
Bucky watches Steve go through the drawers with interested eyes. He’s obviously not going looking for the toothpaste or his toothbrush because they’re both sitting in the cup on the sink. With an over dramatic aha Steve finds whatever it was he was searching for. Bucky stares at the things in Steve’s hand, wary and confused. “What’s that for, sir?” he asks, hoping his manners will make a drastic improvement on his chances of getting a desirable outcome.
“You want kisses right?” Steve asks and Bucky nods – more than anything. “So we’re gonna have to wash your mouth out, right?”
“With… Dettol?” Bucky asks, unsure.
“Sure,” Steve says with a shrug, “Scott told me that he always cleaned Cassie’s toys with Dettol wipes, so how is this different?”
Bucky shudders. It’s not.
“It’s not,” Bucky replies.
“Open up then,” Steve says, uncapping the travel size bottle of Dettol.
"It's not," Bucky replies.
"Open up then," Steve says, uncapping the travel sized body of Dettol.
Bucky opens up and immediately regrets it when Steve pours the hand sanitiser into his mouth. It’s not exactly a limit but Bucky doesn’t think they could do whole scene around it; there’s something about the sterile medical taste of it that reminds him of all the mouth pieces that were shoved into his mouth during wipes. As he chokes and gags on the sanitiser Steve tells him, “don’t swallow”. A little more than half the bottle is gone before Steve lets up and puts the bottle down on the counter behind him without tearing his gaze from Bucky. “Swish it around in your mouth”. Bucky swishes it around in his mouth like Listerine and cringes – it tastes worse as it washes over all of his tastebuds.
This can’t be healthy, Bucky thinks.
“Swallow,” Steve says and Bucky does, “how does it taste?”
“Not great,” Bucky says, “might have to talk about it later”.
Steve snorts, “I’ll think about that”. Translation: we’ll talk about. Bucky’ll probably even get special reward for telling Steve he was uncomfortable about something. He didn’t used to. Bucky smiles up at Steve to show him he knew what he meant. Steve purposely ignores Bucky’s smile and kicks him in the thigh instead, “get a wiggle on- we’re going to the bedroom”.
Bucky looks between Steve and leash tied around the bar, “I can’t sir,” he says, confused.
Steve stands there, arms crossed looking slightly annoyed, “humour me,” he says flatly with a shrug.
Bucky humours him and begins to crawl out of the bathroom. The leash uncurls itself from around the towel rack. He’s barely outside of the bathroom door when a sudden sharp tug on the leash causes him to stop suddenly and he gasps when the collar chokes him to a stop. He turns around to see Steve standing with one foot holding down the length of the leash.
“I know I said go to the bedroom but I’m slightly worried you might’ve forgotten where it was,” Steve explains as if Bucky’s upper half is basically in the bedroom and bends down to pick up the leash, “so I’m going to have to lead you there”.
“Thank you sir,” Bucky says, “I can be forgetful sometimes”.
Another sharp tug causes Bucky to choke again, “I know you are,” Steve says, “I just said you were. You don’t need to tell me that, sweetheart. You’re the dumb, forgetful one, not me,” Bucky nods – serious, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten where we’re going,” Steve says and Bucky shakes his head – he remembers because he’s smart and good, “then go,” Steve says, frustrated.
Bucky goes. They walk into the bedroom and Bucky looks at the chain he was strapped into earlier. They’ll have to do that again. Maybe for an entire day next time. Bucky sits himself on the ground next to the bed.
On the ground like a dog, his brain says.
“On the bed,” Steve says, lounging against the headboard. Bucky shakes his butt and leaps onto the bed like a cat and Steve lovingly bats him over the head. Steve unclips the leash and places it on the ground next to the bed, Bucky whines, “stop whining, you mutt,” he says. Bucky straddles Steve’s waist and head butts him affectionately – like a mutt.
“Kisses now, sir?”
“Kisses now,” Steve conforms. Bucky sinks boneless against Steve’s body when he brushes his lips against Bucky’s. He moans and shivers when Steve slips his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, mapping and testing the taste of Bucky’s mouth. “That’s better,” Steve comments after pulling away, “you don’t taste like feet and death anymore”. Bucky ruts involuntary against Steve at the praise; that’s probably the nicest thing Steve’s said to him today – better than calling him a good boy. Steve grips Bucky’s hair and tugs it back, almost inhumanly so. “What was that about?” he asks, practically snarling.
“I’m sor-” Bucky starts but Steve slaps him in the face – head not moving with the force because of Steve’s handle on his hair.
Steve lightly runs a hand down Bucky’s face as an apology, “it’s alright,” he coos insincerely, “you didn’t mean it”.
“No sir, I didn’t”.
“You’re too forgetful to remember, isn’t that right?”
“Yes sir”.
Steve places a kiss on the side of Bucky’s mouth, “how is your prick?”
Bucky shudders, “a little sore,” he answers, half hard – it always feels half hard – but he’s content with it.
“Alright,” Steve says, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s body.
“I love you,” Bucky says, “thanks for this”.
“You’re welcome,” Steve says and kisses Bucky’s lips again, his own version of I love you. Not that he doesn’t say it – he does, but when playing like this Bucky isn’t partial to it. He likes Steve saying he loves him during moments where he does something weird or stupid. Like the way you lovingly coo love yous to your pet after they do something silly and cute. “You’re thinking”.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky says and kisses Steve’s chin.
“Don’t be”.
Bucky sighs and Steve kisses lips once more gently and Bucky cuddles up against Steve’s chest, curled around himself like a kitten. Bucky can feel Steve’s heartbeat underneath his ear and it’s comforting; he closes his eyes and sighs again. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s body and pressed a final kiss to Bucky’s head before they settle down for a nap.