The thing about going undercover is that the Superman effect is very real.
Look, the whole reason Clark Kent as Superman works is because nobody expects Clark Kent to be Superman. Everyone knows who Superman is: he’s an alien named Kal-El who came from Krypton, lives in his Fortress of Solitude, and saves kittens from trees. There’s no reason to think that Superman is actually the glasses-and-flannel-wearing, bad-posture-having reporter from the Daily Planet. And so the disguise works.
The whole reason Bucky knows the Superman effect works is because nobody expects Tony Stark to be undercover with the Winter Soldier in St. Petersburg. But there he is with a shaved beard and fluffy hair and the ridiculous disguise works because why would Tony Stark ever be sitting in a shitty bar in Russia?
Not that Tony’s really undercover. He hasn’t even really left the hotel except to make takeout runs. He’s there exclusively to analyze the microchips Bucky brings him back from his meetings with the Maggia, which he’s perfectly capable of doing from his secure hotel room.
“But it’s the principle of the thing,” Tony insists as he trims his lovely beard down enough for him to shave it off. Bucky does not lament the loss of the beard. He doesn’t. That would be ridiculous and- and- and absurd and-
Jesus Christ, why did Tony have to get rid of the beard?
It’s not like he isn’t gorgeous without it because he is but the honest truth is, Tony’s very distinctive beard is the first thing people notice about him and without it, Bucky’s stuck staring into his eyes. His beautiful, expressive, doe brown shot through with honey gold-
He realizes he’s been staring at the door to their hotel suite for several minutes. He sighs and pushes it open.
“It’s me,” he calls as he enters, having learned his lesson after their first day when Tony had greeted him with a pillow to his face and a lamppost to his arm. (“I panicked!” Tony explains. “Where was the armor?” Bucky points out. Tony glares at him.)
At first glance, Tony’s not in the room but he hears the shower going and, when he sticks his head into the bathroom, he sees the outline of Tony through the shower curtain. He hastily pulls his head back out. He tosses the latest microchip onto the desk. There’s a small pile of other chips on the other side of the desk, all marked with pieces of yellow tape, and an even smaller pile next to the computer that’s marked with pieces of blue tape.
During a mission some weeks ago, JARVIS had picked up a radio transmission between two HYDRA officers about a series of microchips the Maggia had issued detailing plans to launch another version of Project Insight. Steve had been all for launching a full assault on the Maggia but Tony had pointed out that they didn’t know how many of those chips existed. It had been Natasha who’d recommended that Bucky, as the only Avenger who doesn’t serve on public missions and therefore isn’t well-known, go undercover to recover the chips.
“Got another one for you,” he says, sticking his head back in the bathroom. He’s careful to keep his eyes on the tiled floor. “From an officer this time, not a foot soldier. Might have more info.”
“Thanks,” Tony says absently like his mind isn’t on microchips at all. Bucky resolutely does not think about what he might be thinking of in the shower to make him sound like that. “Hey, what do you want for dinner? Concierge said there’s this great place down the street that sells really good chebureki. Have you ever had-”
“Not tonight,” Bucky interrupts.
“Oh,” Tony says. Bucky winces at the sad note in his voice. He hates that he put that there.
“It’s just- I’ve got- a couple of the officers wanted to come over to discuss a mission in an hour.”
“And you need me to clear out,” Tony finishes, no longer sounding upset. “Got it.”
Bucky doesn’t sigh because he doesn’t want Tony to misunderstand. But he would have really liked to spend the night watching shitty movies and eating chebureki with Tony.
“I’m gonna step out onto the balcony,” he says. Tony just hums in answer. He closes the door behind him and heads for the balcony, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He knows he shouldn’t keep smoking but he got into the habit back in the 40s and it’s not like they’re bad for him after he got the serum.
It’s just too bad that as soon as he steps out, he spots the very gentlemen he was just telling Tony about exiting a cab. For a moment, he’s excited. After all, the sooner they talk, the sooner he can get dinner with Tony. Then he realizes that they’re early- and they’ve got evidence strewn all over the hotel room.
He darts back inside, praying that they didn’t see him. He throws the microchips in a baggie, heedless of the tape color, and shoves both the baggie and Tony’s suitcase armor under the loose floorboard under the bed. It’s only as he’s picking up blueprints and hastily throwing them inside the slit in the mattress he’d cut on the first day that he realizes the water’s cut off. Faintly, he hears the elevator ding.
Maybe it’s not the Maggia but maybe it is. Either way, he’s got no time to get Tony out of here.
He knocks on the bathroom door, mind racing through the barest outline of a plan. “You’ve got two minutes to make yourself look harmless,” he hisses.
“What?” comes Tony’s startled question.
“They’re here and they’re expecting me alone.”
Someone knocks on the door. “Harmless,” Tony says faintly.
Bucky spares a moment to close his eyes and think that he should have expected this. He’d tried to tell them that he wanted to meet elsewhere but they’d insisted on his room. Pushing the issue would have just made them suspicious.
He pulls the door open. “You’re early,” he says flatly.
The two officers don’t respond. Instead, they motion for the burly bodyguards they’ve brought with them to shove past Bucky. They look through the room, clearly checking for hidden cameras or listening devices. Bucky doesn’t look toward the beds or the bathroom but that doesn’t stop one of the bodyguards from entering the bathroom.
“Uh,” he says intelligently when he emerges from the bathroom, Tony’s arm clasped under his hand.
“Ow,” Tony says and when the man shoves him forward into the center of the room, he lets out a little whimper. He’s stands there, rubbing at his arm, barefoot and in a dark red button-up that’s so big on him, it drapes well below his thighs and is falling off of one shoulder. It takes Bucky a moment to realize where he’s seen the shirt before and then he recognizes it- it’s his. Tony’s in his shirt. His blood runs hot and he can’t quite stop himself from taking a shaky breath.
“James?” Tony asks in this sweet, breathy voice. Bucky thinks he might have made a strangled noise but he isn’t really sure.
It only gets worse when one of the men (Bucky thinks his name might be Petrov) sharply asks, “Где его штаны?” The guard grins, absolutely no mirth in his eyes, and flips up the corner of Tony’s- Bucky’s- shirt. Bucky stops breathing for a few seconds.
Tony’s not wearing the briefs or the boxers Bucky’s always thought he would wear. Instead, he’s wearing some sort of pale pink scrap of lace and silk. He lets out the smallest of whines because Tony’s in his clothes and he’s in lingerie and it’s every fantasy that Bucky never even knew he had.
Tony’s eyes flash at the guard’s movement. Bucky just knows he’s getting ready to say something sassy, which is exactly what they don’t need at this point, and he murmurs, “It’s okay. No one’s gonna hurt you. Come here, doll.”
He glances up at the two officers. “You can’t blame me for wanting a bit of fun, can you?”
Bucky ignores the two of them and their guards as Tony moves close enough that he can wrap his arm around his waist and pull him in closer. Tony buries his face in Bucky’s chest, his breath shuddering the way it would if he were truly scared. He hopes that Tony doesn’t feel his heart skip several beats.
He presses a soft kiss to the top of Tony’s head, hoping that he’s not imagining how Tony seems to melt into him. “You’re alright, doll,” he says reassuringly and guides him over to the couches.
For a moment, he thinks Tony’s going to simply curl up beside him but instead, he settles on Bucky’s lap, tucking his head into the crook of Bucky’s neck so that he doesn’t have to face the two men. Bucky realizes what Tony’s doing, that he’s making sure they see his face as little as possible- or at least, that they’re focused on something other than his face. It’s brilliant and it’s so like Tony and he wants to grin but he settles for carding his metal fingers through Tony’s hair instead.
Tony moans softly. Despite everything, Bucky goes rock hard but it doesn’t seem like Tony’s noticed as he just wiggles a little to get more comfortable.
“Он говорит по-русски?” the other officer (Sobol, maybe?) asks.
“Нет,” Bucky says curtly, trying to sound like they’ve interrupted his evening plans (which they have even if they aren’t the plans they seem to think they are).
With that decided, Sobol describes the mission they want to send him on- investigating the loss of several valuable microchips. Bucky prides himself on not flinching. He knows that Tony’s listening intently, absolutely fluent in Russian despite what Bucky had told Sobol and Petrov.
As they talk, he absently pushes up Tony’s shirt to stroke the soft skin at his hip. Tony draws in a small gasp. Against his neck, Bucky feels his eyelashes flutter shut. He wants to groan at the sensation but he doesn’t; he does, however, rolls his hips up just a bit.
“Oh,” Tony whispers. He shifts so that he’s straddling Bucky’s lap, hands clutching at his shirt. Bucky does groan at that movement.
Gleefully, he notices that Sobol and Petrov are shifting uncomfortably. Good. Serves them right for barging in when they weren’t expected. He tugs at Tony’s hair and Tony tilts his head obligingly, baring his neck.
“That’s it, babydoll,” he murmurs before nipping at Tony’s ear. Tony keens and rocks his hips into Bucky’s. He glances at Sobol and Petrov without raising his head from Tony’s neck.
“Why are you still here?” he asks sharply. “Get out.”
It’s a gamble. He’s always been pretty cocky with the exception of the time he spent as HYDRA’s lapdog but that doesn’t mean that the crime syndicate will stand for his attitude. He watches them through slitted eyes, preparing to reach for his gun if necessary, but then the two stand.
“You will report in tomorrow,” Petrov says decisively in heavily accented English.
Bucky lifts a hand- the one that had been petting Tony’s hip- and waves lazily. “Close the door, would you?” he says. At first, he thinks they’re just going to leave it open and he sighs to himself because if he’s going to have to get up to close the door, Tony’s definitely going to come to his senses and stop. But then, Sobol casts one last look at them and closes the door.
Tony sits up and leans away, breaking Bucky’s heart just a little. His arm wraps back around Tony’s waist, supporting him so that he doesn’t fall off. He’s expecting Tony to tell him to let go, accuse him of being a perv. Anything that means this moment will have to end. But, to his immense satisfaction, Tony doesn’t look upset. His face is flushed, his eyes dilated, but there’s no angry line creasing his forehead.
“Do you want to get up?” Bucky asks cautiously.
Tony bites his lip nervously. “Do you want me to get up?” he asks instead.
Bucky decides to lay all his cards out and says, completely honestly, “I think I’d be happy to have you in my lap for the rest of my life.”
Tony’s eyes widen. “You- really?”
“Yeah,” Bucky says. “So, do you want to get up?”
Tony turns his head away for a second and then looks back at him. He reaches up and pulls Bucky’s metal hand away from his head. He studies it silently, running his fingers over it, flipping the palm over so he can look at the intricate platework. Bucky prepares himself for Tony to push him away but then Tony brings his hand down further, up under the shirt and rubs it against the bulge in his panties.
“Oh,” Bucky breathes. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Want you,” Tony says, cuddling closer again. “Wanted you for so long.”
Bucky slips his hand into Tony’s panties and strokes his cock as gently as the metal hand can (which is pretty damn gentle- Tony did a fantastic job when he redesigned the arm). He tips his forehead against Tony’s. “All you had to do was ask,” he says.
“Was gonna.” Tony rises up on his knees and does a little shimmy that pushes his panties halfway down his thighs. “Wore these for you.”
Bucky groans and brings his hand up to the curve of Tony’s neck, pulling him down so he can press a kiss to Tony’s lips. Tony opens for him sweetly with a soft moan, letting him lick into his mouth. He pulls back, capturing Tony’s lower lip between his, tracing the tip of his tongue against it. Tony slides his hands up to drape over his shoulders and grinds down. Bucky, true to his name, bucks his hip up.
“Come on, Sergeant Barnes,” Tony whispers. “Kiss me like you mean it.”
And, well, that’s one hell of a challenge. He slides his hand out of Tony’s panties so he can pull Tony in so close there isn’t space to breathe between them. His other hand fists in Tony’s hair, yanking his head back as Tony keens. He kisses him hard, biting briefly at his lips and then dipping his tongue between them to stroke against Tony’s. He maps every inch of Tony’s mouth, committing it to memory and then pulls away so he can tilt Tony’s head to the side and mouth at his neck, sucking gently.
“Bucky,” Tony moans and Bucky loves that- loves that he’s got Tony this hot for it already and they’ve barely done anything. He looks at the mark he’s made, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the sight of the dark bruise.
“What do you want me to do, sweetheart?” he asks but doesn’t let Tony answer as he presses light, teasing kisses to his lips. Tony’s all but hanging limply in his arms, letting out these shuddering breaths. His eyes are closed and there’s a beautiful, blissful expression on his face.
“Come on,” he teases, running the tip of his tongue along the shell of Tony’s ear. He lets his accent lapse into the Brooklyn accent he used to speak with until HYDRA pushed him into something more neutral. “Whaddya want me to do to you? Could suck you off, hmm? Would you like that? Could open you up with my fingers, get you drippin’ wet and sloppy ‘til not even my cock would fill you up. Talk to me, sweet thing.”
Tony opens his eyes, so dark they’re nearly black, and smiles wickedly. “I think,” he says as he pushes off of Bucky’s lap. The panties fall to the ground and he neatly steps out of them. “I think you should let me blow you.”
Bucky moans, long and loud, and surges up to kiss him again. His hands frame Tony’s face, Tony’s own hands coming up to grip his wrists. “Yeah, doll?” he asks, dropping little kisses along his jaw. “You’ll look so pretty on your knees for me.”
He pushes down on Tony’s shoulders and Tony drops to his knees. He threads his fingers through Tony’s hair and nudges him toward the bulge in his pants. Tony grasps the back of his legs loosely. He doesn’t immediately open Bucky’s pants, instead just nuzzles gently at the bulge. He mouths at it, getting the fabric wet. The heat and pressure on his cock is exquisite but it’s not enough.
“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges and flicks the button on his pants open. “Get me wet.”
Tony looks up at him through his lashes, a filthy smirk on his face. “Really, Barnes? No underwear?” he asks as he lifts Bucky’s cock out. “Fuck, you’re big.”
It’s all Bucky can do to just shrug and gasp, “I don’t like how my pants look with them.”
“They do ruin the lining of your very tight pants, don’t they,” Tony purrs. He licks lightly at the head and Bucky has to strain to keep from bucking his hips forward into Tony’s mouth. Tony must see the tension in his body because he glances back up and says, “You can, you know. I know you want to.”
“Can what?” Bucky grunts, still holding himself back.
“Fuck my face.”
It’s the simple way Tony says it that has his control snapping. He thrusts forward and for a split second, he’s worried that he’s actually going to hurt him but Tony just opens his mouth and lets him push his cock inside.
Tony moans around him, the vibration so perfect that Bucky lets out a groan himself. He sucks hard and Bucky pushes further into that wet, warm mouth.
“Can you take more?” he asks.
Tony looks up at him and quirks his eyebrow. It’s such a classic Tony expression, one that so clearly says, “What do you think I am, some kind of amateur?” that Bucky laughs. He pulls Tony’s head further onto his cock, sliding easily down his throat, until Tony’s face is pressed against his pelvis. He feels Tony swallow around him and he tosses his head back as he groans. Under his hands, Tony shifts and he can’t help but wonder if this is too much for him but when he looks down, Tony shifts again and then goes completely lax against him. He gazes up at Bucky with this hazy, almost peaceful look in his eyes and swallows again.
“That’s it,” he murmurs and slides his hand across Tony’s cheek and down to his neck, feeling Tony’s throat work around his length. “So good for me. God, you’re perfect.”
Tony’s eyes flutter shut and he whines. Bucky’s hand tightens momentarily and then he’s moving it up into Tony’s hair. He pulls out a few inches, Tony’s hands tightening on his legs as though to keep him where he is, and thrusts back in gently. He works up an easy rhythm, careful at first to keep from choking him, only thrusting harder when he thinks Tony’s ready for it.
Tony takes it all with ease, not complaining when Bucky thrusts harder than he meant to or struggling when he’s held at the base of his cock. Bucky loves it, loves how sweet Tony is, how good he feels around his cock. He pulls out, eases his grip on Tony’s hair, and Tony immediately presses little kisses down the underside his length until he’s buried at the base. He laps and sucks at Bucky’s balls, laving his tongue over the soft skin until Bucky’s gasping at the drag.
“Sweetheart, Tony,” he moans. He’s tensing, ready to come, meaning to tell Tony to pull off but Tony licks his way back up his cock, fits his mouth over the head, and sucks. His back arches- he shouts- and then he’s spilling down Tony’s throat. He knows it’s a lot but Tony swallows it all, throat working placidly.
When Tony finally pulls back, he drops to his knees and kisses him, licking every taste of himself out of Tony’s mouth. “So good, doll,” he groans. “Just perfect.”
Tony keens, hands clenching and unclenching in Bucky’s shirt. He whispers, “Bucky, please.”
“I’ve gotcha,” Bucky says. He gets a hand behind Tony’s back, the other under his knees, and scoops him up. He carries Tony to one of the beds, still kissing him, and lays him down as he settles over him. He works on worrying another bruise into Tony’s neck, to match the one on the other side.
Tony flings a hand up above his head, grasping at the pillows. “Oh good, this is my bed,” he says nonsensically and Bucky has no idea why that matters but he’s not really paying attention because he’s standing instead, stripping the rest of his clothes off of him.
He’s in such a hurry that his pants get caught around his boots and he bends down to kick them off. He straightens back up. His breath catches in his throat as he sees why it matters that they’re on Tony’s bed- because Tony, apparently, has hidden lube somewhere on the bed and has slicked his fingers and is now working two fingers into himself. Bucky’s cock was already mostly hard but so much blood rushes to his cock now that he feels somewhat dizzy and ends up leaning against the foot of the bed.
Tony’s cheeks flush pink as he slips his fingers free and adds more lube. He twists them back in and begins scissoring them apart, working himself loose. Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from him- he’s beautiful and perfect and still wearing Bucky’s shirt.
“Oh god, sweet thing, would ya look at you?” he mutters and sets a knee down on the bed. He crawls forward, lifting Tony’s legs and setting them on his shoulders. “Sweetheart, please, let me help.” He gets a hand under Tony’s hips and lifts, exposing his pretty pink hole and the fingers working him open to Bucky’s view. Tony adds another finger, lazily pumping in and out of his hole.
“You’re not helping,” Tony points out, his casual words belied by the desperation in his voice.
“Is that right?” Bucky mutters and bends down, licking a broad stripe across Tony’s hole. Tony arches up with a loud cry. He decides that he likes that reaction. He does it again, lapping at the space between Tony’s fingers. “Still not helping?”
Tony pants, his other hand coming down to clutch at Bucky’s head. “Don’t yank,” he warns as he traces a metal finger around Tony’s stretched rim.
“You yanked mine,” Tony retorts.
“Yeah and you liked it.” He doesn’t add that he doesn’t but Tony seems to get the hint anyway and loosens his grip. Bucky rewards him by pressing his fingers in alongside Tony’s three. Tony sobs, hand clenching briefly in Bucky’s hair before he lets go entirely and wraps his fingers around the bedframe above his head.
Bucky thrusts as a counterpoint to Tony’s own rhythm, changing it every time Tony tries to match him. He scrubs mercilessly at his prostate, delighting in Tony’s screams and the way his thighs tighten around his head. He nips at the crease where Tony’s leg meets his ass and then returns to licking around their fingers, darting his tongue to press in.
“Bucky!” Tony cries, pulling his fingers out to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock.
Bucky pulls back as well, bringing Tony’s legs off his shoulders and resting his chin on Tony’s thigh. He lets him catch his breath, coming back from the brink of orgasm. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks quietly once it seems like Tony’s calmed down.
Tony glares at him but there isn’t really any heat to it. “Lube your dick up and fuck me,” he orders and tosses the lube at Bucky’s head. Bucky grins. Now that’s an order he can get behind.
He slicks his cock up, pulling in long strokes. Tony watches with dark eyes, breathless with want. He raises his legs to hook around Bucky’s waist when he moves in closer. Bucky’s careful- so careful, he doesn’t want to hurt Tony- when he lines them up but Tony’s already slick and open and he slides in in one smooth, long thrust. Tony clenches around him; his hands scrabble at Bucky’s shoulders to pull him down for another kiss.
He pulls back, hips working, and Tony’s legs squeeze on his waist to bring him back in. “Come on, sweet thing,” he urges. He gets a hand around Tony’s leg and hitches it up higher, the other stroking Tony’s cock.
“Harder,” Tony pleads and Bucky’s helpless to do anything but obey. He snaps his hips forward, gliding over Tony’s prostate with each thrust. Tony’s hot and tight around him and so, so perfect. He buries his head in Tony’s shoulder and moves ever faster. Tony whines his pleasure, pressing urgent kisses against his neck.
“This what you need, doll?” he asks. He snaps forward forcefully. “Need me fucking you ‘til you can’t remember your own name, stretching you wide around my dick?”
“Yes,” Tony gasps, trembling under him. “Bucky, please- oh god- please.”
He reaches down to run his finger where they’re connected, groaning at the sensation of the cool metal on his cock. Tony mewls, hands clutching at his shoulders. “You feel so good, babydoll.”
Tony manages to choke out, “You too- Bucky- honey- I’m so close.”
“Yeah?” Bucky asks. He bends his head down, nuzzles at Tony’s ear. “Come for me.”
As though he was just waiting for permission, Tony arches up and comes, spilling white over Bucky’s hand and shirt. His hole tightens and Bucky thrusts twice more before his own orgasm overtakes him. He spills inside him, hips jerking through the last of the aftershocks. Tony’s eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, as he comes down from his high.
“Sweetheart?” Bucky asks softly. “You good?”
Tony nods and turns his face slightly, his lips dragging across Bucky’s cheek until they meet Bucky’s own lips. They kiss softly, sweetly, and Bucky thinks that maybe this wasn’t a one-time thing.
He pulls out and makes his way to the bathroom. He runs warm water over a washcloth, cleans himself up, wets a new washcloth, and then walks back into the bedroom. Tony’s still lying where he left him, one arm now thrown over his eyes. Bucky smiles at the sight. He climbs back onto the bed and runs the washcloth over Tony’s hole, cleaning off the excess lube and come.
“Can you sit up for me, Tony?” he asks. “Wanna get this shirt off of you.”
He has to help Tony up because, apparently, Tony becomes pliant and boneless after an orgasm but they do eventually manage to get the shirt off. He cleans off what little bit of Tony’s come landed on his stomach where the shirt was pushed up and then tosses the washcloth in the direction of the dresser. It’s only then that he flops onto his back beside Tony.
“Don’t go back to your bed,” Tony murmurs. He turns onto his side and burrows into Bucky’s chest. Bucky picks up his hand and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it, then turns it over and repeats the kisses with first his palm and then the inside of his wrist.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”