One of the set assistants handed Bucky and Peter their robes. Parker, a new, twinky addition to Stark Naked Industries, was stronger than he looked, but getting reamed on camera for the first time was exhausting no matter one’s physical capability. Bucky offered him a hand to pull him up from his place spread-eagled across the mattress, and the kid accepted.
“You all good?” asked Bucky.
Peter nodded and smoothed a hand through his bed-head. He said, “It was nice. I’m good. You’re good. You’re gentler than you look, so that’s cool.”
Bucky looped his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him into a side-hug, rubbing his hand over the kid’s upper arm. He said, “I told you; we take care of our own. Glad I could make it okay.”
“Parker! Excellent work! Barnes, I need you over here!”
Bucky turned his attention across the set – a fake bedroom outfitted for sex from the wide, generous bed, to the furniture with extra stashes of just-in-case lube – to their fearless leader, Tony Stark. Stark’s father notoriously owned a weapons manufacturing company, something that Tony wanted nothing to do with – rather, he preferred to get involved in exactly what would piss Howard Stark off.
(The longer story included Howard publicly disowning Tony when he was only sixteen years old, Tony going into porn to pay his way through MIT, and subsequently becoming a behemoth in both the pornography and adult toy industry, but everyone knew not to ask Tony about it)
“Thanks, Mr. Stark!” Peter waved with an eager grin.
Bucky patted Peter’s shoulder and said, “You let me know if you need me to beat anyone up, okay?” and peeled away to talk to Tony, who stood at the head of the room with his hands in the pockets of his designer suit.
“What’s goin’ on?” Bucky asked.
Tony spread his fingers at the door and said, “Step out into my office. I have a proposition for you. Not that kind, Grumpy; don’t look at me like that. I’m your boss, for fuck’s sake. Come on.”
The set office was decidedly not Tony Stark’s actual office – Bucky had been to the real deal once, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was being punked at the time (there was a chocolate fountain, for starters). This office was utilitarian in nature, the walls cream-colored and furniture neat and dark. A glass case boasted several AVN awards from the last years, and posters for their best-known features decked the walls in fancy frames.
Bucky couldn’t help the rush of smugness he felt at the poster of him with Clint, bare-assed naked gazing into each other’s eyes like they wanted to devour each other.
Tony spun around in the swivel chair on the other side of the desk for a few seconds before he stopped and looked Bucky in the eye. He said, “Okay, you know we started that series, right?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. He asked, “When Tops Collide?”
“That’s the one,” Tony said, “Have you watched any of the releases?”
Bucky shook his head.
“We’ve had a lot of success,” Tony told him, “Thor and Valkyrie broke records for straight shit. Steve’s on fire. So. My question to you is: are you comfortable with bottoming?”
“Tony,” Bucky said patiently, “I prefer being on bottom.”
Tony stared at him. “You do not,” he said, disbelieving.
Bucky folded his arms across his chest. He said, “Uh. Yeah. Topping’s all right. I like it fine. But I like being on bottom better.” He gazed disinterestedly at his fingernails and went on, “You typecast me as a top because I’m a big dude.”
“I did not – how dare you, first of all –” Tony huffed, and then admitted, “Fine. You got typecast, my fine, beefy friend. But does the audience know that? No, they do not. They think you’re the toppiest top to ever top. So here’s what I’m thinking. I want you to bottom in our next When Tops Collide, and I want you to bottom for Steve.”
Bucky lifted one brow. Steve was…notoriously rough.
“I don’t know, Tony,” Bucky said.
Tony frowned. He asked, “Why? What’s wrong with Steve?”
“He kinda throws people around,” Bucky said.
Tony pulled a face. He said, “For the camera. IRL Steve is a mushy goody-two-shoes. Ask your roommate.”
“Did you just say ‘IRL’ out loud?” asked Bucky.
“That’s neither here nor there,” replied Tony, “My point is that he puts on a show for us, but he’s actually kind of a weenie. Like, no offense to Steve – or, actually, some offense, probably – but he’s downright lovey-dovey if the cameras are off.”
Bucky chewed his lip. The truth was that he didn’t mind being thrown around, didn’t mind some pain play or humiliation. Hell, he liked it, and probably liked it more than he should. He just – needed the sweet stuff, too. He sighed, playing up his reluctance for Tony, and said, “Fine. Sure. Let’s do it. But you’re paying me double for this video.”
“Fine,” said Tony.
“Fine,” agreed Bucky.
“Fine,” Tony said again, determined to have the last word. Bucky let him.
“Fuck. Why did I say yes to this?” Bucky anxiously asked, running both hands back through his hair.
Clint swallowed his bite of pizza and paused the Dog Cops rerun playing on their TV. He said, “Dude. You’ll be fine.”
“But will my asshole be fine, Clinton?” demanded Bucky, “I haven’t bottomed in like a year. I’m gonna need like a gallon of lube up there if I’m gonna get pounded as hard as everyone else does in Steve’s videos. And I already fingered myself in the shower!”
Bucky spent the weeks preceding the scheduled filming for his video with Steve watching everything that Steve had ever made for Stark Naked. It had all been in the name of preparation, but instead Bucky landed someplace between terrified for the state of his butthole and uncomfortably turned on. Steve – or Captain XXX, as the consumer knew him – used his muscled body to pin his partners down and jackhammer them into the next dimension.
On one hand, Bucky was into it. On the other…look, he liked his asshole inside his body, where it belonged.
“If you need a gallon of lube, then he’ll use a gallon of lube,” Clint said, chewing on a slice of pepperoni, “I’m serious, man. Steve is cool. He brings cookies to all his shoots.”
Bucky frowned. “Really?”
“Yeah, really,” answered Clint, “I’m not gonna lie to you. That guy is toppy as fuck. But you’re into that, so I guess I’m not seeing the problem. And he’s real goddamn bossy, but you’re also into that, so…”
“Okay, okay,” Bucky said, winding his scarf around his neck, “I’m going. But if he turns my asshole inside out, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“I’m willing to take that risk,” Clint shrugged, and added an enthusiastic, “Have a good day at work!”
Bucky flipped him off.
When he arrived at the Stark Naked studio, the set staff crawled all over the place with lights and cameras and…sugar cookies? Those had to be the infamous Steve-baked cookies. Clint failed to mention that the cookies would be penis-shaped.
Bucky stopped Ned with a hand to the shoulder and asked, “Hey, where did you get that penis cookie?”
Ned wiped crumbs from his lips with the back of his hand and pointed to the buffet table off-set. Tony liked to provide food for shoots that took place around meal times. Today, they’d been catered by some kind of deli, and – were those lox? Hell yeah. He thanked Ned and wove around the other employees, only to smack right into the hard line of another body before he even made it to the table.
And there was Captain XXX – Steve, Bucky reminded himself – in the flesh. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating in his t-shirt and jeans, though the mere line of his broad shoulders through the cotton was enough to rev Bucky up. He’d seen what those powerful fuckers could do, and he was torn between being born ready and being terrified.
“Oh, hey,” said Steve, “You must be James.” And he stuck out his hand for a shake, like they were meeting at a church bake sale instead of the half hour before Steve pounded Bucky into a mattress.
“Bucky,” he said, “I go by Bucky.” He shook Steve’s hand.
“Bucky, then,” Steve grinned.
Steve went for sandwich materials over the bagels, which Bucky didn’t understand, but could excuse. As he assembled something on his plate, he said, “This should be a pretty relaxed shoot, I think. Tony said you like bottoming?”
Bucky helped himself to four penis-shaped cookies and answered, “Yeah, but I haven’t in like a year, so, uh, take it easy.”
Steve smiled, crooked and boyish and said, “Of course. If I do anything you don’t like, just say the word. Hey, how’s Clint doing? You’re his roommate, right?”
“I left him on the couch eating pizza,” Bucky replied, “I doubt he’s moved.”
“Sounds like a good time,” Steve said, “but I bet we’re gonna be having more fun than him.”
A thrill rolled down Bucky’s spine. Steve’s salacious smirk struck an odd chord against his wholesome face and unassuming attire. All at once, the images of Steve fucking into his partners, growling dirty shit under his breath, muscles pumping, pummeled Bucky’s brain. Heat flooded his face, and Steve grinned wider. He said, “Already thinking about it, huh? Me too. You’re gonna be real fun to take apart. Tell me what you think of the cookies, by the way. I tried a different recipe for the dough.”
And with a pat to Bucky’s ass, Steve strode away, disappearing behind the changing screens across the room.
Bucky nervously stuffed his face in lieu of dwelling on the slew of naked-Steve images dancing through his head like sugar plums. As scared shitless as he was of the prospect of too little preparation, Bucky was turned on as all hell. He wanted to get his hands on Steve’s tiny little waist, wanted to sit on him and ride him like a fifty-cent mechanical bull at a country bar.
These cookies are fucking amazing, Bucky texted to Clint as he padded behind the changing screens. He snapped a quick picture of the last of the penis cookies, startling realistic with a blue frosting vein piped along the beautifully baked, golden-brown shaft.
wtf those look awesome!! he made pumpkin for our last vid together, Clint replied, and added a second later: they look pretty tru 2 life [smirking emoji]
Maybe he used himself as a model, suggested Bucky, finding the image of Steve baking cookies naked all-too-erotic. Or, maybe, wearing nothing but a tiny little apron. Good thing they were about twenty minutes from screwing like rabbits; otherwise, Bucky’s budding erection might have been embarrassing.
Setting his phone aside, he shed his clothing and pulled his fluffy robe over his shoulders, heart beating a wild tattoo as he circled onto the set. Steve already sat on the edge of the bed, while Ned and Erik and the rest of the team adjusted the lighting and cameras.
“Oh, good, Bucky,” said Happy, the head of the camera crew, “We need to do some lighting tests before we get going, so you guys strip down and we’ll see how it looks, okay?”
Bucky let the robe fall away and kicked it out of the way. He flopped back onto the bed and watched Steve pull his robe free.
Oh. Oh, God. He looked even better in person than he did on camera. That wasn’t supposed to be possible. It shouldn’t have been possible. But, lo and behold, Steve’s muscles shifted beneath his skin, tapering down to a narrow waist and an absurd rack of abs. Bucky’s gaze traveled down to where a trail of dark gold hair led to…well. A large, long, almost artistic cock.
Steve perched one hand on either hip and asked, “How are you on prep?”
“Uh,” Bucky said, dumbly, “Clean as a whistle and lubed up as of my shower this morning, but…y’know. That was like an hour and a half ago, now.”
“You wanna get ready while they fix the lighting?”
“Or I could do it on camera. Depends on what you want.”
“Um…I can do it,” Bucky decided, though the temptation of Steve’s thick fingers did certainly have a charm all their own. He crawled across the mattress and reached into the top drawer of the bedside table, flicking around the various tubes of lubricant until he found his favorite brand. Bucky popped the top off and coated his fingers.
“Gentlemen,” Bucky grinned, and winked at Happy – who spared a long-suffering eyeroll – before pressing two fingers inside himself. The slickness from earlier had yet to diffuse entirely, but Bucky was sitting inches away from Steve’s monster dong, and trust him, that thing was bigger in person. How. How. How how how. And it would be going into Bucky’s body, like, soon.
At first, Bucky trained his eyes on the ceiling, the exposed ductwork and bunting of wires that powered the pretend bedroom below. But a soft noise on his left got his attention, and he met Steve’s eyes. Steve, who was naked beside him, looked like he wanted to lick Bucky from head to toe, his blue eyes dark and blown wide with lust. He rested one big hand against his cock, already hard and flushed. Steve swiped his thumb through a bead of moisture leaking from the tip, the gesture absent as his attention remained laser-focused on Bucky spread open inches away.
Steve smiled when their eyes met. He murmured, low enough for only Bucky to hear, “I can’t wait to get inside you, Bucky.”
“Jesus,” swore Bucky.
“Ain’t got nothing to do with it,” Steve chuckled.
So, Bucky put on a show. He scissored slow-like and showy, his legs splayed wide as he worked himself over.
Steve rested his free hand on Bucky’s arm and commanded, “Slow down. Let yourself enjoy it.”
Bucky swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in his throat and adjusted his stance, cheating to the camera unconsciously, though they weren’t yet rolling. He pumped his fingers in and out of his body, face hot with need and maybe a little shame. He licked his lips and confessed, “I can’t wait for this to be you.”
Steve’s lips parted, and he inhaled a soft, shaking breath.
The spell broke when Happy clapped his hands together and shouted, “Okay, Barnes, are you good?”
Bucky jerked his attention to the cameras, withdrew his fingers, and nodded. He said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
They reorganized, shooting a quick introduction with Steve and Bucky pretending to fight over who’d end up on top. (There would be more of that later, Bucky was told, for the story’s sake, but Bucky was pretty damn sure none of their subscribers were watching When Tops Collide for the overarching narratives and plotty details.)
In minutes, Bucky and Steve were right back on the bed, naked, with Bucky panting like he’d lost a fight. In reality, he was too turned on to rub two thoughts together, and was more than willing to let Steve run the show. For work, mostly, Bucky had to be fully present and engaged. When he topped, he made sure to be attentive to every little flinch and flicker of movement from his partners. He wanted them to enjoy the experience, wanted more than faked enjoyment for the cameras.
Bottoming…that was different. Bucky liked to be subject to the whim of the person he was with, and from the look of things, Steve loved to be in charge.
Steve hefted Bucky up into a downright filthy kiss, lapping the walls of Bucky’s mouth like a man dying of thirst. For the cameras he maintained a litany of dirty talk all the while, for every breath: “You’re so fucking hot. Holy shit. I can’t wait to get inside you. Can’t wait to pin you down and fuck you.”
Bucky whined at that, digging his hands into the meat of Steve’s back. He cried out, “Please. Yeah, please.”
Steve’s hands encircled Bucky’s biceps and held him against the mattress. Bucky, despite knowing he was certainly strong enough to throw Steve off him, reveled in the feeling of helplessness. He surrendered to the sensation of Steve’s weight holding him down and, for the camera, said, “You got me. What are you gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your name,” Steve said.
A groan tore from Bucky unbidden, because, shit, that was hot.
Steve kicked Bucky’s legs open wider, buried a kiss in Bucky’s throat, and murmured, “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”
Steve rested his hand on Bucky’s throat just-so, not enough to restrict air flow, but enough to look pretty for the cameras and treat Bucky to a whole new level of helplessness. He gasped at the touch, but the sound dissolved into a full-body groan as the head of Steve’s cock breached him. He tried to arch off the bed, but Steve held him still against the mattress and made him take every inch of the cock that both aroused and scared the shit out of him.
“That’s it,” Steve said, “Take it. I know you can. Look at you. You’re stretched so wide. You’re gorgeous.”
Probably, Bucky should have dirty-talked back, should have kicked up a pretend fuss about being made to bottom when the internet knew him as a top, but goddamnit, Steve pushed every one of his buttons and what remained of his brain was a softly smoking motherboard, crackling with sparks. He moaned and whimpered and cried out, but he couldn’t manage words.
At least – not until Steve is fully seated inside him. Because, then, then, Steve sucked more kisses to the side of his neck (that would bruise up real nice, and Bucky couldn’t wait to see it) and softly ordered, “Check in with me. You good?”
Bucky nodded, and Steve thrust sharply into him. “Out loud,” he whispered.
“Yeah. Yes. I’m good. Feels good. Great, actually.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Steve murmured, and drove into Bucky so hard that Bucky could see stars.
Bucky clawed at Steve’s back as he fucked into him. He knew his mouth was saying words, but couldn’t say for certain what any of them were. He knew he was begging Steve to fuck him harder, pleading to be used – and Steve obliged. He manipulated Bucky’s body as though his bulky frame were made of Play-Dough and not solid goddamn muscle.
Without an ounce of hesitation, Steve pulled out and flipped Bucky onto his stomach, and in the space of a breath, pushed right back inside. Bucky’s body lit up like a Christmas tree, all of him singing. He fucking loved bottoming – loved being pushed around, and it had been too long. Way too long. Steve checked every box in Bucky’s Things Toppy Dudes Do That Turn Me the FUCK On list.
Steve pinned Bucky’s shoulders to the mattress, forced his ass higher, and pounded into him.
“You like that?” he asked.
“I love it,” Bucky cried, “Fuck. More. Please.”
“You want more? All right – but I want you to come on my cock.”
Oh, fuck, that was hot.
Steve drove into Bucky in powerful, skin-slapping thrusts of his body. Every time his cock grazed against Bucky’s prostate, sparks skittered across his skin. He was so hard, so close, and –
“Ah, ah, oh, fuck!” Bucky screamed. He came like a mighty crash of cymbals. Bucky canted his ass into the air and squeezed the sheets in his fists. Torturous sensation wracked his body, shuddering across his spine and all throughout his trembling limbs. The sounds that tore from his throat were more animal than human, and he couldn’t find a single shit to give. He hadn’t come like this on camera since – well, ever.
Steve didn’t slow his pace, just kept fucking. He threaded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, closed his hand and wrenched his head back, riding relentlessly into him.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Steve growled. He plowed into Bucky with one, final smash of their bodies and came inside him.
Spaghetti-limbed, Bucky collapsed when Steve let go of him and pulled out. He felt Steve give the camera space to zoom in on Bucky leaking Steve’s come onto bed. He only knew they got what they needed when Steve scooted up against him and spooned his side.
“Hey,” Steve said, “Cameras are off. How’re you feeling?”
“Mffhmm,” Bucky managed.
Steve laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, “We have a few minutes to breathe while they set up for check-in. Wanna cuddle?”
Check-in – the segment at the end of any rough video filmed under the Stark Naked Industries banner. Tony liked to emphasize consent. Bucky appreciated that.
Bucky nodded and extended his arm out to Steve. They snuggled up like lovers, not actors, and Bucky might have melted a little at the precious contact. Steve stroked his fingers through Bucky’s hair and kissed the back of his neck, praising, “That was awesome. You were so good.”
A smile curled the edges of Bucky’s mouth.
Redressed in their robes, Steve and Bucky sat across the studio in a pair of armchairs. The check-in part of the Stark Naked set was, in all honesty, a little much. A plush carpet rolled beneath their feet and expensive wallpaper climbed behind the sturdy armchairs, exuding the air of classy, albeit outdated, manor. Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever did anything by halves.
Happy signaled when the cameras began to roll, and from behind the lights, asked, “So, Soldier, how was bottoming for the first time for us?”
Bucky tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and grinned. He looked right into the camera and assured their would-be audience, “That was awesome. Steve—shit. Sorry, let’s start that again.”
Happy repeated the question, Bucky repeated his smile, and this time, he spoke without telling the entire internet Captain XXX’s name. He said, “It was incredible. Cap is real good, you know? Listen. The truth is that I love being thrown around, s’long as know the person doing it can be trusted. And Cap…I know I can trust Cap.”
Steve cast a glance at Bucky and said, “Like being thrown around, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said, “I would one hundred percent do that again.”
“Really?” Steve asked, looking nothing at all like the speed demon that just topped the hell out of Bucky and every bit a dopey puppy. He said, “I’m glad you had fun. I liked being with you, and this whole When Tops Collide thing is cool because I don’t really worry that I’m gonna break somebody by accident. You know?”
Happy interjected, “So, you guys felt some chemistry back there?”
“Absolutely,” Bucky said, “and not just because Cap brings cookies to the set.”
Steve let loose a sharp bark of laughter and elbowed Bucky in his side. He complained, “I can’t believe you just told the whole internet about that.”
Bucky faced the camera dead-on and said, “You heard it here first. Captain XXX bakes cookies for his costars and the crew. And they’re goddamned delicious, by the way.”
Happy directed the camera to fall back on Steve. He inquired, voice droll, “And you, Cap? How did you feel about the experience?”
Steve straightened in his armchair, but shifted to cover Bucky’s hand with his own, stroking his thumb across the backs of Bucky’s knuckles. He licked his lips and answered, “Well, it’s not a surprise to anyone that I like being in charge,” – he laughed a little at himself, almost sheepish – “I watched a lot of Soldier’s videos before this shoot, and was nervous. He seemed so, you know – commanding. But then we were in bed and it was like…he just…he just let me do what I wanted, let me take over. He was incredible, to say the least.”
The praise went through Bucky like hot liquid, heating his cheeks and stirring his cock. Incredible. Steve called him incredible. Images flashed before him, of Steve bending Bucky to his will and telling him how good he was for letting it happen.
“You’re blushing, Soldier,” said Steve.
Bucky jerked to attention. He said, “You complimented me.”
“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, no,” Bucky assured him, “It’s good. It’s just – it’s going straight to my dick, Cap. Give a guy a break.”
Steve’s schoolboy expression morphed instantly into a filthy grin. He said, “Guess we’ll just have to do this again.”
Breathless, Bucky agreed, “Guess we will.”
Some intangible something crackled between them like static, flowing like a current, wrapping Bucky up in heat. Steve stared back at him with those baby blues blown up with lust all over again, so in sync that both of them began to drift closer to one another across the space between the chairs.
“All right,” Happy said, breaking the spell, “I think we have everything you need. You can take the personalities off, kids.”
While the crew started breaking things down and they both stood, Bucky said, “For the record – I meant what I said. I would totally love to do another video with you.”
A smile like summer warmed every corner of Steve’s body. Bucky liked that. Steve smiled with his whole body, blushed with his whole body – did a lot of amazing things with his whole body, come to think of it. When Steve leaned forward to peck a surprisingly chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips, Bucky pressed into it, more than happy to bask in the embrace as long as he could.
Work had never felt so fantastic.