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Steve lets go of his wrist the moment he gets to his feet, but Bucky follows him up like he's been tethered anyway. Already his senses are starting to attune completely to Steve; all day he'd been jumping back and forth between paying too much and too little attention to Steve – completely on purpose, of course.

He licks his lips, tip of his tongue curled in the corner of his mouth, and bumps his shoulder against Steve's, glancing at him from the corners of his eyes. Steve's expression remains perfectly placid, friendly even; he nods at one of the park workers as they pass him by, and doesn't acknowledge Bucky at all. Instead of being discouraged Bucky smirks to himself and starts chewing on his lower lip so it'll be swollen and red by the time they get to Steve's bike.

Once there, Steve pulls Bucky's helmet out and hands it to him, one eyebrow raised and eyes piercing. Earlier Bucky had thrown a small fit about wearing it but now he just takes it obediently – but not without licking the inside of his cheek while looking up at Steve from between his eyelashes. The corner of his mouth twitches when Steve's eyes stutter across his red lips and he outright smirks when Steve narrows his eyes.

"Put the helmet on," Steve says, voice soft.

Bucky obeys and, while Steve is putting his own on, swings his leg across the motorbike, straddling the machine and leaning back, one hand on his thigh, the other supporting his weight behind him. Steve pretends he isn't looking but Bucky can tell that his eyes linger and he grins, the expression hidden from view by the helmet.

As soon as Steve sits down in front of him he slides down the seat, molding himself to Steve's back much closer than strictly necessary. Shivering at the feeling of Steve's strong, warm back he presses his crotch against Steve's ass and squeezes his hips with his thighs for a moment before settling properly. His arms go around Steve's chest and waist, one settling on his belly, the other on his chest, and then he goes still.

Steve inhales, then kicks off the machine and starts driving them home. He's gotta know something's coming so Bucky behaves for the first couple of minutes, until he figures Steve is starting to think Bucky is going to be good until they get home.

Which is precisely the last thing Bucky plans on doing; teasing Steve is just way too much fun. Slowly, he lets his hand – the metal one that's cool from the wind now – slide down Steve's belly, inch by inch. That Steve's abs feel like they're made of steel is less due to the serum and more because he's tensing up; he knows exactly where this is going. Bucky bites his lower lip and closes his eyes once he gets to Steve's waistband, pausing for a moment before he inches his small finger underneath it, trapped between cloth and skin.

"Bucky," Steve warns; Bucky can't hear him over the noise but he can feel it vibrating in Steve's chest, more because of his hand than because of how closely he's pressed to Steve's back. Because Steve is wearing that leather jacket, that goddamn leather jacket that he knows very well drives Bucky to distraction and if Steve asks, he's gonna maintain that it's partly to blame for his behavior today. The rest of the blame goes entirely to Steve and how he drives Bucky crazy.

If Steve had closed that jacket – he always forgets to – Bucky would sneak his hand underneath it and, hidden from view, slide his hand further into Steve's pants but there are soft lines and hard lines and trying to give Steve a handjob on the bike in plain view of everyone would be crossing a few hard lines too many. He's already pushing it today and he plans to keep pushing, but not that far.

Doesn't mean he's gonna behave for the rest of the ride, though. Steve did not close that jacket, after all, and all he's wearing underneath is a soft t-shirt, and Bucky had the forethought to put his flesh hand on Steve's chest so what he can do perfectly is move his hand a little to the left and rub the pad of his index finger over Steve's nipple. It instantly hardens under his touch; cold airflow, who cares, but Bucky's fingers...

Steve says something that's a bit longer than Bucky's name. Since he doesn't understand a word, Bucky's gonna pretend Steve said "Don't you dare" and really, Steve should know better than utter such a challenge, especially when Bucky is in this kind of mood. Though thinking back, Steve had actually known better for a while, before he learned that he could make Bucky shut up with his cock. Such a disappointing time that had been, in hindsight.

Shivering a little, Bucky licks his lips and rolls his hips. Oh, he's going to get it when they get home; he's thinking about it while rubbing the tip of his finger across Steve's left nipple. Steve's gonna tie him up, he's sure of it – when Bucky behaves he gets to be on top, gets to ride Steve to his heart's content but that's not gonna happen today. Steve is going to tie up his wrists, maybe even his ankles, and maybe he'll fuck Bucky and not let him come, maybe he'll tease him for hours. Steve always knows just what to do to make Bucky melt into the mattress.

Maybe they won't make it to the bed. Maybe Steve will fuck Bucky against the door, then on the floor, once, twice, maybe three times, each time just a few feet closer to the bedroom. He'd pull Bucky's wrists over his head and hold them there, fuck him from behind, then on his back until Bucky has carpet burn everywhere, red marks on his skin that won't fade for hours.

Again, Bucky shivers. If he isn't careful... but fuck careful. With his lower lip pulled between his teeth he moves his hand to the right so he can rub his thumb over Steve's other nipple, already halfway hard. Oh, Steve is not going to have much patience with him today, not at all. Bucky adores it when Steve runs out of patience.

They stop at three lights on the way home, and Steve never makes an attempt at pushing Bucky's hands away or at closing his jacket; he clearly knows better. But his body is tense under Bucky's, and the moment they roll into the parking garage Bucky lets his metal hand slide lower, cup the bulge prominent in Steve's pants. There are rules about that too, about Bucky deliberately making Steve hard in public; it's one of Bucky's favorite rules to break.

Steve parks the bike and immediately gets off. For a second Bucky is half-tempted to strike his pose again, pull his helmet off and dare Steve to make him get off, but he chucks that plan in favor of getting off right after Steve, press all close against his body when Steve can't react, has to hold on to the bike and roll it onto the kickstand first. As soon as he can let go of it he half turns to Bucky, hand fisting in the back of his shirt. "You, behave now," he growls, more menacing because Bucky can't see his face.

Steve can't see his either and that won't do. He pulls the helmet off and grins, blinking lazily. "You know me better than that."

The pulse in Steve's neck ticks, widening Bucky's smile, and without a word Steve turns back to his bike and locks it up, their helmets stored in their compartments. Bucky smiles as he hands his over and then puts his hands in his jeans' backpockets, pushing his hips forwards. When he's done with the bike Steve acts like he doesn't spare him a glance, but as he walks towards the elevator his shoulder falls back a little in the way that means he's expecting Bucky to follow. Going by the tension plain visible in Steve's body, he better be quick about it, too.

He grins and catches up with Steve, strides past him and presses the elevator button, then leans against the wall, hands in his front pockets this time. Lower lip between his teeth, he smirks at Steve, noting the way Steve's eyes glide down and up his body once before Steve pointedly focuses on the elevator doors. The way he stands, with his feet slightly apart, hands on his belt, eyes to the front, makes Bucky think all kinds of things, about sucking him off and calling him 'Sir'; makes him consider going to his knees right in the elevator. It would be seriously pushing the boundaries but Bucky is rapidly approaching the point where he's ready to give those boundaries the finger.

Before he's made a decision the elevator doors glide open and Steve steps inside like a man on a mission. The grin will probably remain permanently fixed on Bucky's face until Steve wipes it off; he slides into the elevator after Steve and melts himself to Steve's side. "Hey, Steve," he purrs. "You gonna fuck me when we get home?"

Steve twitches and catches hold of Bucky's wandering hand. "If you don't keep your hands to yourself for the next five minutes I'm going to make you regret it."

It's not an idle threat; Steve can make Bucky regret whatever he wants to if he sets his mind to it. At least in the moment. Afterwards Bucky somehow always finds that it was all more than worth it.

Which is the entire point: Steve didn't go into detail. When Bucky really is about to cross a line Steve will lay out the punishment – real punishment – for him. This? He's dancing along the line, more so than Steve is strictly comfortable with, but he likes getting to punish Bucky as much as Bucky likes to be punished. His irritation is real, but he isn't annoyed.

So Bucky seriously debates whether or not to obey; he never behaves unless he's on his knees or tied up. But Steve hasn't let go of his hand and there are other ways to toe the line.

Bucky leans fully into Steve's chest and tilts his chin up until his lips are brushing Steve's ear. "You said nothin' about my mouth." Then he licks a hot trail up Steve's neck.

Steve swallows and turns his head to the side to give Bucky more room. His free hand settles in the small of Bucky's back, big and heavy, and Bucky can't resist rolling his hips into Steve's a little, nowhere near subtle or elegant but getting the point well enough across. "That," Steve murmurs while Bucky nibbles along his jawline, scrapes his teeth across his pulse point, "is because I got plans for your mouth."

The elevator dings just as Bucky's mouth drops open in delight. For a second he means to ignore the interruption and instead ask Steve for details until it registers that they're on their floor. It's a minor miracle they didn't run into anyone, and a little unfortunate; Steve is so much easier to rile up when there are other people. Not that Steve needs much riling up. His arm around Bucky's waist is very secure as he guides Bucky out of the elevator and to their door. This is it, they're just seconds away from-

Steve opens the door, pushes Bucky inside and shoves him to his knees before the door is even properly shut.

A small noise wrangles from Bucky's throat; his eyelids flutter and he sucks his lower lip into his mouth as he looks up at Steve, hands on his thighs. He doesn't say a word, doesn't have a chance to, because after one breathless second Steve's hand is in his hair, pulling his head back. Bucky moans, mouth automatically falling open, and Steve curses. He keeps cursing as he, with one hand, opens his belt and pants, shoves them down his thighs, takes hold of his already almost completely hard cock and pushes it into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky's eyes fall shut and he moans again as Steve pushes deeper, a thick, heavy weight on his tongue. He loves this, could stay on his knees for hours just sucking Steve's cock – has in fact done that, really wouldn't mind getting to do it again. Steve clearly isn't of a mind to let him draw it out, though, shoves in deep enough to almost choke Bucky before pulling back most of the way, tip of his cock resting on Bucky's lower lip. "You really misbehaved today," he says lowly.

Hazily, Bucky blinks up at him; he doesn't nod, wasn't asked a question. He wants to lean forwards and suck Steve back into his mouth but he can't for two reasons: one, he hasn't been given permission, and two, Steve's tight grip on his hair is holding him back.

Steve makes him wait for it, stares down at him for what feels like an eternity before suddenly, his grip on Bucky's hair relaxes. "Go on, then," he orders roughly. "Make it up to me."

Immediately, Bucky leans forwards and sucks his cock as deep into his mouth as it will go, and then he swallows and sinks further down until he can't breathe, until his nose bumps against Steve's pelvis. It didn't take him long to learn this, dedication, eagerness and Steve a very willing test subject helping him along, and he loves it. The tightness in his throat, not being able to breathe or focus on anything but Steve's cock in his mouth. Loves the sharp breath Steve takes because no matter how often Bucky does this, he will always be taken a little off-guard by it.

Bucky is good at sucking cock, and he's proud of that. He stays there for a couple of moments, throat working around Steve's cock as he swallows, makes him give a small moan, and if he could he'd smirk now because drawing that first sound from Steve is always a small victory. His blood is pounding in his hears but he still takes his time pulling back, rubbing his tongue along Steve's cock until he can breathe again. Then he sucks as hard as he can and slides further off until his lips form a tight ring just below the head of Steve's cock, tongue teasing across the tip of it before he sinks down again. Within minutes of expert work – he knows exactly where Steve's weaknesses are, what he likes, and he makes complete use of that knowledge – Steve is gasping, close to coming, and Bucky is eager for it, wants Steve's come down his throat, it's all he can think of, making Steve come in his mouth-

Steve pulls out, ignoring the surprised and slightly desperate noise Bucky makes when he does, and takes himself in hand. At some point he got rid of his jacket and shirt, Bucky didn't even notice, and with a few rough jerks of his hand he's coming all over himself, come hitting his belly and chest.

Bucky is crestfallen.

"Don't look at me like that," Steve pants. "You came really close today." Breathing heavily, he lets go of his cock and reaches his arms over his head to stretch, head tilting back. He looks gorgeous, and he told Bucky not to look at him like that, but right now he doesn't know how to stop.

When Steve looks down at him again he sighs, cups Bucky's face and rubs his thumb over his lower lip. "Alright, you can lick it off."

Bucky leans forwards and up, tongue eagerly flicking out as he licks across Steve's slightly salty skin, licking come off his abs and even up to his chest. He wasn't given permission to touch so he keeps his hands to himself but it's hard not to take hold of Steve's hips and suck a trail of marks into his skin. Especially when Steve's hand finds its way into his hair again, holding on as Bucky very thoroughly licks him clean.

Once he is clean, though, Steve pulls him off and to his feet. He stares at Bucky for a moment, that coolly dominant expression on his face that gives Bucky shivers, and then lets go of him. "Take your clothes off and get on the bed."

Immediately Bucky turns around and hurries into the bedroom, hastily pulling his clothes off. Instead of dropping them on the floor like he wants to, though, he lays them carefully on the allotted chair, well-aware that being messy won't speed this up at all. In fact, there is very little he can do to speed Steve up when he isn't in the mood for it, so he gives it his best: he straightens out the sheets on the bed, then lies down on his back, wrists crossed above his head and knees angled up, feet apart. Hopefully the sight and demonstration of Bucky's eagerness will inspire Steve.

When he gets there to see, that is, because he's apparently taking his time for that, too. It must be a solid three minutes before Steve appears in the doorway, a small eternity for Bucky. The sight that presents itself to him is worth it, though; Steve is naked and half-hard, again or still, and he leans against the doorway, crosses his arms and smirks, eyes raking up and down Bucky's body. "You want it bad."

Bucky nods quickly, then bites his lower lip. That wasn't a question.

Still smirking, Steve pushes off the doorway and walks over to the closet, opening their drawer. He takes one, maybe two small things out of it that he doesn't let Bucky see, plus the silk ties. Striding up to the bed, he kneels on the mattress and touches Bucky's lips again, mouth curling when they immediately open up under his touch. "Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me," Bucky replies instantly, lips brushing against Steve's index finger. "Please." He stares up at Steve with wide eyes.

"Hm." One of Steve's eyebrows ticks up. "And do you deserve to get what you want?"

Bucky's eyes widen further. "Please?"

Steve pulls his fingers away. "Answer the question."

That's- that's not fair. Bucky swallows and stares up at him. "Not... immediately."

"But eventually?" Steve asks, fingers returning to wander down Bucky's throat. "Only good boys get what they want."

Bucky swallows. "I was good, sir. In here."

"Once I had you on your knees, yes." Steve tilts his head and eyes him up and down again. "You are always good once you're on your knees."

"I get on my knees only for you, sir," Bucky murmurs. He wasn't asked a question, not even technically, but he needs to say it.

Steve's eyes narrow, but he doesn't comment on it. "And you always know what to say."

Bucky stays silent, just takes a deep breath and lets his legs fall apart a little further.

Steve glances down, then back up again, face giving nothing away. "So what would you say now?"

"Please," Bucky immediately says. "Please."

"And I do like when you say that." Steve says it as if absently, to himself, but Bucky hears and has to hold himself back from saying it again. He likes saying it, too.

"We'll see," Steve decides after a moment, and drops the silk ties on the bed. "Keep your hands where they are."

Bucky takes a breath and wraps his hand, the flesh one, around his metal wrist so he has something to hold on to. Keeping them crossed looks pretty but he's not going to be able to keep them that way if Steve starts touching him, and going by the way Steve kneels on the mattress down by Bucky's feet, that's definitely going to happen.

God, just from the way Steve is looking at him, kneeling down between his legs, Bucky's heart quickens. He wants to beg again, wants to ask Steve to please hurry up but all he does is lick his lips and spread his legs even faster. Steve glances up at him for it, expression amused, and god but Bucky wants to see him fall apart so bad, wants to see his face when he sinks into Bucky, when he fucks him like there is no tomorrow, when he shudders to completion inside him.

Warm fingers on his knees, and Bucky moans; all Steve is doing is touching his knees but that's all it takes to send a shiver through Buck's body, make it hard for him to stay where he is. Steve smirks as he slowly slides his hand down Bucky's legs, but along his shins instead of his thighs, the exact opposite direction he wants. Bucky whines until Steve wraps his hands around his ankles and pushes until Bucky's legs to up and he folds in half, knees up to his chest. "Stay," Steve orders quietly, and pulls away.

Bucky quivers, and stays. Steve isn't touching him anymore and he's one second away from lifting his head to see what he's doing, if he's meant to stay this way, when he heals the plastic click of the bottle of lube being opened. His whole body shivers at that and he has to bite his lower lip, squeeze his eyes shut; he had expected a lot more teasing before this, for Steve to really make him wait. He had been naughty today.

But Steve touches him again, one hand running up the back of Bucky's thigh, sliding around to the inside of it before going back down and wrapping around Bucky's hard, leaking cock. Arousal he hadn't previously consciously been aware of slams into him and he moans, loudly, eyes squeezed shut as Steve pulls once, twice, three times before letting go of him. Gasping, Bucky tries to regain his breath, but before he can fingers wet with warm lube are between his cheeks, slicking up his crack. "You'll be a very good boy from now on, won't you?" Steve asks lowly, fingers teasing across Bucky's hole.

Whimpering, Bucky presses the back of his head into the mattress. "Yes, sir. Please, please."

Steve hums. "Please what?"

He's such a sadistic bastard; it's impossible for Bucky to love him any more than he does. "P-please fuck me with your fingers. Please."

"So specific." Steve sounds like he's smiling; he knows perfectly well that Bucky learned from experience to be specific, because otherwise Steve will keep asking questions instead of finally- "Alright, then." One single, thick finger pushes into Bucky's hole, steadily past the ring of muscles until it's in to the second knuckle. A strangled noise falls from Bucky's throat and he has to grip his metal wrist tight not to do something rash, like plant his feet on the mattress and thrust down, or take hold of Steve's wrist and pull him in. It'd briefly bring him relief but then he would have to pay for it.

Steve chuckles and keeps him held in suspension for one tense moment, then pushes in the rest of the way before pulling out again, and pushing back in. The pace is still excruciatingly slow but Bucky is grateful for even that much; he's not sure he would've been able to deal with having to wait a moment longer.

"Good," Steve murmurs; just one single word but it sends a frisson of warmth through Bucky's body; he smiles, probably a little dopey. Then with the next push in Steve sends a second finger into Bucky's body and the brief moment of tranquility evaporates instantly. Bucky groans, loudly; it's so fucking hard not to move. If he were tied he could at least pull a little, struggle, but instead he has to keep perfectly still because he knows if he lets himself go even a little he's going to forget himself and then Steve is going to be disappointed; he doesn't want to disappoint Steve, that's the last thing he wants. Tease him, yes, drive him to distraction, certainly, entice him into doing things to Bucky, but not disappoint him.

"Shhh," Steve makes, free hand suddenly on Bucky's chest and fingers inside him still. That's when Bucky realizes he was mouthing something, Steve's name together with "please", and he whines. "You're doing very well," Steve soothes, "I know how hard this is for you. I'm proud of you."

It shivers through Bucky and he closes his eyes, bites his lower lip, enjoying the feeling. Steve is proud of him; he isn't disappointed.

"Good," Steve whispers and starts moving his fingers again. Bucky whines low in his throat but keeps still, focusing on the feeling of his metal wrist in his hand, the bed softhard under his head, shoulders and hips. Every time Steve pushes in he shivers, but he keeps still. He thanks god that Steve is purposefully avoiding that spot in him, though, because if Steve touched him there he'd be a complete goner.

A wave of arousal shivers through him when Steve adds his third finger and he moans. Steve's hands are big – always were – with long, big fingers. He can drive Bucky to distraction with them just doing normal things like tie his shoelaces or open a goddamn bottle of water, but when he puts them to use, plays Bucky's body like an instrument, Bucky is completely lost. "Steve," he gasps, pleading; he's not sure how long he can keep still. The need to do something, wrap his legs around Steve, reach out for him and wrap his arms around him, pull Steve on top of him and cling, is nearly overwhelming; that's why he needs the ties. They wouldn't be enough to hold him if he really wanted to get out, of course, but they're just enough of a reminder of what Steve wants from him to help him curb his impulses. He's impatient as anything but he wants to be good for Steve.

"In a minute," Steve soothes, hand returning to Bucky's chest and thumb rubbing across his sternum. He's not pushing Bucky down, not at all, but just the weight of his hand is just present enough to keep Bucky still for a moment longer.

That moment is almost shattered when Steve without warning pulls his fingers out completely. Bucky's body twitches and he cries out; the only reason he doesn't move is because Steve is still touching him. "Very good," Steve purrs, voice so deep Bucky has to lick his lips, blinks up at him blurrily. Then his eyes go wide and he stills when he feels cool silicone press against his hole, sliding in smoothly.

"There we go," Steve says, satisfaction in his tone once the plug is in. "You did very good."

Wide-eyed, Bucky blinks at Steve for a moment, not quite able to process what just happened.

Steve smiles at him and rubs his thumb across Bucky's lower lip. "You didn't think I was already done with you, did you?" Then he puts his hands on Bucky's knees and pulls them down until Bucky's feet are on the bed again. The plug presses into him nicely with the change in angle but is completely not what he wanted. Which is probably the point. Maybe he overdid it a little today; maybe if he had behaved a little more Steve would be fucking him right now instead of keeping him for later.

With another sweet smile – oh, he knows exactly what he's doing, the bastard – Steve leans across Bucky and picks up the silk ties he dropped earlier. Bound by the fact that he was neither given permission to move nor asked a question, Bucky is helpless do anything but watch as Steve then unlocks his fingers where they're clenched around his metal wrist. A forlorn noise involuntarily escapes his throat when Steve wraps soft silk around his wrists and ties first his flesh, then his metal wrist to the headboard.

Once satisfied with his knots, Steve hums and leans back, hand running down from Bucky's wrist over the sensitive inside of his arm to his collarbone, where his thumb brushes Bucky's throat. "You can move now, if you want." His eyes burn into Bucky's and he swallows, draws in a sharp breath. Tentatively, he tests the ties, pulling a little harder when they don't slip off immediately. Then he rolls his hips, clenches against the silicone plug in him, and bites his lower lip when a shiver runs through him. Maybe... this isn't Steve on top of him, fucking his brains out, but it isn't too bad either. Definitely not bad at all.

Steve cups Bucky's face and tilts his chin up, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips before pulling back, smiling when Bucky tries to follow his mouth. "Good," he says, and swings one leg over Bucky's chest, straddling him.

Bucky's breath catches in his throat when he realizes where this is going. He loves, loves sucking Steve's dick. Likes it best when he's on his knees and Steve has one fist curled in his hair, fucking his mouth, or when they settle in for the long haul and Steve cups his face and just lets Bucky go to town, but he loves this too, tied to the bed and helpless to move, completely at Steve's mercy.

His mouth falls open, already wet with anticipation as he stares at Steve's cock, hard and red, fluid welling up at the tip. Steve groans and shifts closer, wraps one hand around himself and guides his cock to Bucky's ready mouth. His other hand finds its way into Bucky's hair, grip just tight enough, and pulls his head up so he's at a better angle. "If you could see yourself right now," he murmurs as he slowly pushes his cock into Bucky's mouth, the head rubbing across his tongue before going deeper and deeper until Bucky has to work not to choke, swallows repeatedly and holds his breath. With this angle he can't get as deep as he would if Bucky were kneeling for him, but he has complete control over Bucky, holds his head at the angle he wants and pushes his cock as deep as he can and watches Bucky struggle to take him in, to swallow around him and suck even with as full as his mouth is. Bucky's eyes are watering and his heart is pounding in his ears and he loves it, makes a protesting noise when Steve pulls back even though he knows he needs to breathe. He just doesn't care.

Steve exhales and pulls out until Bucky's only suckling a the tip of his cock anymore, giving him a moment or two to breathe before slowly pushing back in. "You're greedy," he comments a while later, almost idly if it weren't for the slight breathlessness in his voice. His pace is a little faster but still deliberate and careful. "That's why you act out the way you do. You know I'm going to punish you for it and you love it. If I had fucked you right away the way you asked you would have been happy, but not as happy as you are now, don't you think?"

Bucky thinks that Steve definitely shouldn't be able to be this coherent right now – he himself definitely wouldn't be, even if his mouth weren't completely full – and doubles up his efforts, sucks harder every time Steve pulls out and rubs his tongue along the underside of his cock, tip digging in on that small bundle of nerves right below the head. Steve groans, fingers in Bucky's hair flexing, but he doesn't lose his rhythm, or his ability to talk.

"You're so good at this," he murmurs lowly, almost a growl. "Take it so well, with your pretty mouth."

Bucky groans, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, trying to look up Steve's body. He's trapped, wrists tied, Steve's thighs on each side of his ribs as he looms above him, body completely curved above Bucky's as he supports his weight with one hand on the wall. Bucky couldn't move if he wanted to; all he knows is Steve, Steve's hand holding his head, Steve's cock in his mouth, his voice in his ears. He moans again and Steve hisses, hips stuttering a little. The muscles in his thighs are flexing; he's close, Bucky knows the signs.

And Steve knows that he knows. "Do you deserve it?" He gasps and, when Bucky doesn't immediately reply, starts to pull out. Bucky immediately whimpers and tries to lift his head higher, chasing after him, and Steve chuckles and pulls his head back by his grip in Bucky's hair, stinging deliciously. It's even better because Steve pushes back in, tip of his cock pushing along the roof of Bucky's mouth, thick and hard, and he's been so much in Bucky's mouth for the past however long it's been that it feels like Bucky's tongue is adapting to the shape of it, curling easily around him. He sucks hard and Steve groans, thrusts a little harder, almost too much so and the tears that have been blurring Bucky's eyes finally start to fall, streaming down his cheeks in hot trails.

"Good," Steve gasps, "God, Bucky, so good," and Bucky closes his eyes and focuses only on the taste of him, the feel of Steve's cock in his mouth. He sucks and uses his tongue to the best of his ability, and it feels like both an eternity and not long at all before Steve pulses in his mouth and comes down his throat. He holds his breath and just sucks while Steve groans and comes, and when the spurts die down he swallows and takes a breath, sucks some more and tongues at Steve's slit until Steve pulls out and doesn't let him follow.

"Fuck, Bucky," Steve murmurs lowly and Bucky shivers – except he's not shivering, he's trembling, and Steve cups his face with both hands and leans down to rain kisses on his face, telling him how good he is, one hand sliding back to his strained neck to massage him a little. Bucky rests his head on the pillow and gasps for breath, dizzy and a little dazed, but he's smiling, and Steve tells him again how good he is. It doesn't matter that he hasn't come, that he's so hard it hurts; the ache is faint in the periphery of his awareness as Steve kisses him, murmurs praise against his skin.

He doesn't notice that Steve is shifting down his body or that only one of his hands is cupping Bucky's face anymore until that other hand wraps around his cock. Awareness shoots through him like electric and he gives a startled "Ah!", eyes going wide.

Steve smiles against his mouth. "You didn't think I was already done with you?" he echoes his earlier words, squeezing Bucky's hard cock again, and when he thought it didn't matter he must have been mad because all of a sudden nothing is more urgent than the arousal coursing through him. He's too hot and Steve is not close enough all at once and he moans, tries to roll his hips up.

"Yeah," Steve purrs, "I think you earned it now." He kisses Bucky again, pushes his tongue into his mouth and Bucky automatically sucks on it, makes a desperate noise when he can taste the come on his own tongue all over again with more of Steve's taste in his mouth. Steve is panting against him, body stretching out on top of him as he shifts and settles between Bucky's legs. Bucky immediately rolls up into his body, gasping when against expectations Steve lets him. Steve is not quite there yet for another round but Bucky doesn't care; he could come just like this, moaning into Steve's mouth and rolling his hips up, cock rubbing against Steve's abs. He's aching.

"Patience," Steve murmurs, hand on the inside of Bucky's thigh. His fingernails scratch lightly as he slides his hand lower, making Bucky shiver; he feels like all his senses are heightened, tuned perfectly to Steve. All he needs are the slightest nudges from Steve – hand wrapped around his thigh and merely hinting the motion before Bucky is already following along and wraps his leg around Steve's hip, then waist, the other leg automatically following along. Steve curses and instead of taking delight in that Bucky feels the vibration in Steve's chest, his breath in Bucky's mouth. It feels like his whole body is undulating, a sea in a storm and Steve's body is the rock he's branding against.

Steve curses again, says Bucky's name, the combination obscene and his fingers are between Bucky's cheeks, tugging at the plug for a moment before pulling it out completely. Bucky whines and pulls at the ties; he feels empty and wants to cling to Steve for it, wrap his arms around his neck and just hold on but then Steve shifts, his arm between their bodies as he guides his cock to Bucky's hole. "Fuck, Bucky," he hisses and thrusts inside. Bucky has no idea when he had the time to slick himself up but he doesn't care, all he knows is that it means Steve can fuck him all the harder and faster for it now.

He groans as Steve's cock stretches him that much wider than the plug did, the feeling completely different because Steve is hot and pulsating, alive, and the moment he can't go further he pulls back and thrusts back in, the friction sending delicious shocks through Bucky's body. He doesn't know what sounds he's making but Steve is murmuring into his ear, nonsense words and praise and Bucky can't focus for more than a second. There is Steve's body between his thighs, the flex of his muscles every time he thrusts in, hard and focused, one of his arms curled under Bucky's body with his hand in Bucky's hair again, the other sliding down Bucky's side, slick with sweat. Steve's voice as he tells Bucky how good he is, how perfect, "I love you, baby," and Bucky sobs in a breath, throws his head back and bares his throat to Steve, Steve's teeth on his skin. And above all the steady, unrelenting rhythm as Steve drives into his body; Bucky could go mad with it, will go mad with it if Steve doesn't let him come soon, his whole body is trembling and aching with it, but he's good for Steve, he holds back. By the skin of his teeth, but he's good.

Then Steve's hand finds his hip and tilts it up a little and suddenly Bucky is screaming, because that's his prostate and he's going to lose it- "Come for me, baby," Steve gasps and Bucky does. Completely silently as all the breath has left his body, muscles clenching up and it almost feels violent how the pleasure crests in him, and he can't think, can't breathe, all he can do is feel.

Steve isn't fucking him anymore when he comes to. His wrists aren't tied anymore either and he's curled up on his side, body so lax it feels like he could ooze right through the mattress if it weren't for Steve's arms around him, holding him together and keeping him close. The sweat is still wet on their skin but Steve isn't quite out of breath anymore, heartbeat almost steady again where Bucky's forehead is pressed against Steve's chest. One of Steve's arms is under him, upper arm a pillow for Bucky's head and hand on his back, and the other is slung around Bucky's waist. "Back with me?" Steve asks, tired and very self-satisfied. It's not often he makes Bucky come so hart he blacks out.

"Fuck you," Bucky slurs, and Steve laughs, presses a kiss to the top of his head.