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After Hours

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Steve wishes Bucky wouldn’t look at him the way he does – a deliberate gaze, subtly digging his top teeth into that pouty bottom lip; following his every move like a lion watches a gazelle. It’s been going on for months, perhaps longer. He can only properly gauge based on the amount of time since he actually started noticing. Steve talks, and Bucky listens. Well, that’s the point – Bucky’s supposed to be listening. Steve’s just doing his job, after all… No harm in that.

The problem is that it’s no innocent gesture, the way Bucky will have the top of his pen tracing the outline of his mouth; sometimes pinched between his teeth or resting against the tip of his tongue. It’s also not innocent at all when Steve turns to look out at the sea of heads while he’s speaking and catches the quickest glimpse of the brunet sneaking a peak at his ass. And Bucky doesn’t even pretend to be bashful about it. He just meets Steve’s eyes and smirks – just the tiniest hint of a thing.

Even bigger a problem than all that is how absolutely wrong it is. There are a million and one reasons why Bucky’s behaviour is inappropriate, and why the way it makes Steve feel is even more inappropriate.

For starters, Steve is Bucky’s teacher.

Secondly, he’s only seventeen.

Seventeen, and Steve is thirty. Bucky isn’t even legal, for fuck’s sake. There is absolutely no justification for Bucky’s gaze to seer into Steve’s brain the way it does, or the fact that the last time he jerked off, his mind has sort of glazed over… only to imagine his student hiding under his desk, head bobbing between his legs while everyone else was none-the-wiser. Sure, it made Steve come, but it’d hit him unexpectedly, and he felt fucking awful about it afterwards.

The confusing thing is, Steve’s never even been attracted to men. Oh, sure, he can look at a guy and admit if he’s attractive, but he’s never thought of one that way before. He’s always identified as straight and never second-guessed it. He isn’t even sure if he’s bisexual. Honestly, maybe it’s just Bucky. But either way, it confuses the ever-loving shit out of him.

It’s not like that bothers him, the idea of liking another dude. Steve’s very open-minded and is all for the right to love whoever you love. If he forces himself not to think about the fact that Bucky’s seventeen (and his student, for that matter), the situation alone would merely just confuse him. But Steve can’t overlook the fact that Bucky’s seventeen, because it’s seventeen for fuck’s sake. He’d lose his job over it – not to mention how immoral that would be.

He does his damned hardest not to think of Bucky that way, but the kid makes it hard. That’d almost be a funny pun, if not for the fact that it’s a very serious matter. Steve actually wishes he could sit Bucky down and have a talk with him about it – about how there are a very specific set of boundaries that they can’t cross… That Bucky needs to stop staring at Steve so suggestively because it just isn’t right… Because he’s an adult and Bucky’s just a kid… He’s young; he doesn’t know who he is or what he wants yet, and for Steve to take advantage of that would be abusing his power and he could never do that, and it gives Steve horrible ideas, ideas that leave him wracked with guilt but also get his dick so fucking hard, and – no, Jesus fucking Christ, he can’t think of that…

But it’s not like this is something he can actually talk to his student about. Because what if he’s wrong? What if Bucky got offended – disgusted – and it turned out that Steve had just been going crazy or something; that Bucky never even meant it that way? That could make the situation really messy…

Then there’s the other end of the spectrum. He could get him alone and bring it up, and Bucky could admit to it – but then they’re alone, and what if Bucky tried to initiate something? Steve would have to say no – of course he fucking would have to – but, oh god, what if he didn’t? What if he let it happen? He could do his best to keep his willpower intact, his self-restraint. But he can’t guarantee that if Bucky got close enough to touch him that he wouldn’t just let the boy keep touching him.

Ah, fuck. There’s a seat in Hell with Steve’s name carved right into it, that’s for damn sure.

Best to leave it be. That’s the best course of action; don’t risk anything by bringing it up and drawing unnecessary attention to it, and simply let it blow over. Bucky’s a teenager, after all – teenagers’ wants are fleeting things. Steve’s just a phase for him, and one that he’ll surely get over.

Steve cannot believe that the thought actually makes him feel a little disappointed.

Yep. Hell. No doubt about it.

“Mr. Barnes, can you stay behind a moment?” Steve asks distractedly, tidying up the messy pile of essays his class had just littered onto his desk before the bell had rung. He hears Bucky reply cheerily, “Yeah, sure,” before hastily saying to his buddies that he’ll catch up with them in a few minutes. Steve taps the pile off the hardwood, getting them all into a neat little stack, before tucking them away into his bag. He’s glad it’s the end of the day; Bucky’s lingering stare seemed to be on high fucking alert today, to the point where it was actually distracting. Steve just needs to get home and into a cold shower, ASAP. 

“What’s up, Teach?” Bucky’s voice cuts into his thoughts, startling him by its sudden close proximity. He’s standing next to him, and luckily Steve’s able to mask the effect it has on him by casting him a quick, polite smile before he gestures to Bucky’s table.

“You can take a seat if you want – or stay standing, it’s up to you,” Steve says. “I’m gonna sit down, though.”

He lowers himself into his chair and smiles at him as casually – and as formally – as possible. Bucky just meets his smile and holds it for a second, before chuckling and propping himself up on top of his desk. He’s a tall kid (not as tall as Steve, but pretty close), so his feet easily touch the ground. Steve tries to think of that as some sort of positive attribute – an excuse of some kind – but he’s smart enough to know that that’s definitely just grasping at straws. Bucky raises an eyebrow as if to say, We gonna play the staring contest all day or are you gonna talk? So Steve awkwardly clears his throat and gets right to the point.

“I’ve noticed you seem to be struggling a little bit lately,” he says, trying to be delicate. All things aside, he really does care about the well-being of all his students – exceptionally-so, actually. He’s got quite the reputation for being a favourite amongst the students at Shield High, both for his easily approachable attitude, his passions for history and art (for which he teaches both), and how he’s always got a smile on his face.

His students always feel like they can talk to him; see him as a friend as well as their teacher. That’s part of the reason why Steve calls Bucky Bucky. Because he had called him by his birth name, James, at the beginning of the year, but that wasn’t the name he liked to go by. After asking about four times for Steve to not call him James, Steve did as he asked. It wasn’t anything strange or out of the ordinary – he’d had plenty of kids ask to be referred to by their nicknames before. Steve had never thought anything of it until recently; until he started questioning his every reaction and scrutinizing whether it was appropriate or not.

Part of him is already nervous about having this conversation, because they’re alone, and that’s how most of his fantasies start and it’s not right. But his responsibilities as Bucky’s teacher come first, even when it means he has to do the unpleasant things, such as confronting a student when they’re failing. And that’s exactly the situation here; Bucky’s failing, badly lately.

And that’s confusing, because Bucky had been one of his strongest students academically when the semester started. He hasn’t completely failed the course yet, but if he doesn’t start pulling his grades up that’s where it’s going to head.

“You got less than sixty percent on your last three unit tests,” he continues. “What I don’t understand is that all of the work is right, but just the answers are wrong.”

“I have a hard time drawing conclusions?” Bucky jokes, grin expanding.

Steve sighs. “James, I know that sometimes, kids your age don’t always take their classes seriously. I mean, when are you going to use a lot of this stuff later on in life, right? No, maybe you’re never going to have to know what year the Declaration of Independence was signed, or have to list off every country in the Second World War Allies - but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still at least try while you’re here.”

Bucky just keeps staring at him with that little smile, looking at Steve as if he finds him the most adorable thing on the planet. Steve forces himself to ignore it; instead just threads his fingers together and looks back at Bucky expectantly. After a few moments of silence, Bucky finally averts his gaze and looks down with a small shrug. Exhaling another chuckle, he says, “I’m not tryin’ to fail, sir. I guess I’ve just been distracted lately.”

At that, he peers back up from under dark eyelashes. Fuck… Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, because that’s The Look – the one Bucky keeps giving him when all eyes are on Steve and Bucky can get away with it. He can feel his heart start pounding just a bit faster in his chest, so he clears his throat and pretends to distract himself by reaching into his bag and sliding out Bucky’s last test from the paper-clipped pile. He’s most definitely not picturing how Bucky would look with his back arching off that table while he fisted his hands in Steve’s hair and moaned his name, no he is definitely fucking not. Because that’d be… that’d be wrong, and… Shit.

“I need you to get this signed by your parents before next class,” Steve tells him. He wills his voice to be sturdy but it still cracks halfway through. Bucky’s smirk darkens unashamedly, but Steve does his best to ignore that, too. Holding it out, he continues, “And whatever it is that’s been distracting you, perhaps you need to work on that. Prioritizing is a good strategy to learn in high school. When you’re in class, I expect you to focus - on the work,” he adds quickly.

Pushing himself off the desk, Bucky approaches Steve’s and takes the test from him. Their fingers brush together and Steve’s skin feels hot under his long-sleeved shirt. Bucky’s eyes are on their hands and it only lasts a second, but then Steve pulls away quickly and nods to himself. Turning away quickly, he goes for nonchalant as he closes his bag back up and then scoops it up under one arm – his lousy way of trying to signal that their meeting is over.

Bucky doesn’t make to leave. He lets his eyes roam down Steve once, then back up, even though he knows Steve can see the whole thing. But he throws on his best innocent expression when he meets his teacher’s eyes again and says, “Y’know, I think I’d do much better if I had a tutor?”

Oh, for Christ’s sake… There’s another scenario that’ll find its way into Steve’s fantasies later, that’s just great. But in reality, not gonna fucking happen. Steve knows exactly where something like that would head.

Awkwardly, he nods towards the classroom door. “There’s a whole list of them provided in the guidance counselor's office. I’m sure if you want some extra help outside of class, you can – you can find it there.”

“You mean you won’t help me?” Bucky asks, really laying on the innocent act with expertise. His brows even get that little confused crease between them and everything. This kid is fucking precious, and Steve really wishes he wouldn’t be.

“I can help during my office hours if you ever need it, or after class until four,” he answers. Carefully, he adds, “That’s about all I can offer, though.”

“I thought tutors met at, like, little cafes and stuff,” Bucky jokes again. “Or came over to the tutoree’s house, like in Mean Girls.”

“I don’t understand that reference, first of all,” Steve says. “Secondly, ‘tutoree’ isn’t a word--”

“Is to! Check out Urban Dictionary if ya don’t believe me.”

“And thirdly, that’d be highly inappropriate,” Steve finishes. “Afraid that’s against the rules, Buck. Sorry.” So things don’t get uncomfortable or awkward, he gives an apologetic smile and then does a real gesture towards the door to get Bucky to follow him. He knows that Bucky’s extending their meeting on purpose – whether it’s to actually try anything or not, Steve doesn’t know. But he just keeps trying to remember, do the right thing; you’re the adult here, over and over in his brain.

“No one knows history like you do though, Teach,” Bucky says with a smile, following him (thank fuck).

“I’ve heard the tutors here know their stuff, so I think you’ll be in good hands,” Steve replies. He waits until Bucky leaves the room to turn off the lights and shut the door behind him. You’d think that there was a plague in the school or something, with how quickly the students leave the second the bell rings. It’s only been about ten minutes, so Steve had hoped that there’d still be some lingering teens around them; so they’d be back out in the open where Steve could be grounded back down to reality and force away the urge to check Bucky out the same way he’d just been checked out.

Bucky sighs over-dramatically, holding up the test as he starts to back-step away. “Both parents, or is just one good?” He never stops with that fucking smirk of his; Steve has to fight the impulse to tell him to cut that out before he wipes it off for him… Teaches him a lesson he’ll actually pay attention to… Turn that smirk into an ‘O’ shape; frozen around a silent scream while Steve made him come… Shit, for fuck’s sakes, Steve, fucking STOP.

“Just one is fine,” he answers, already backing up in the opposite direction. “By tomorrow, Bucky. No excuses.”

Bucky grins, biting his lip. “Whatever you say, sir,” he answers suggestively – way too obediently. Then did he just--? Did he just wink? Steve can’t tell; it happens too quickly, and then the brunet’s spinning around and striding to the staircase. He’s gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Steve to (hate himself a little more) imagine him being that obedient while he looked up at him, all doe-eyed and submissive and beautiful, and called him Sir while he asked to suck Steve’s cock.

He releases the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding; frowns, turns, and heads in the opposite direction.

What was that about Hell…?

Right. One-way ticket.

Steve completely forgot that Bucky knows where he lives; that’s what he gets for living in the same house for the last ten years, he guesses. The fact is, most of his students know where he lives, since it’s in a very large residential neighbourhood. Plenty of kids come by every year for trick-or-treating at Halloween, and apparently teenagers refuse to outgrow that sort of thing, too. It never fails to surprise him how old some of the people are who still come up to his door and ask for junk food. Shouldn’t they be at house parties or something? Like, it’s not as if he’d condone underage drinking, but he’d been their age once, too, and he definitely remembers hitting up lots of parties. 

Unfortunately, the whole thing leaves him just as blind-sighted when his doorbell rings later that evening and he opens the door to find Bucky standing there. Steve doesn’t even attempt to hide how stunned he is; just freezes with his hand on the door, as his eyes widen and his brows furrow.

“Bucky--? What’re you--? How do you know where I live?” he stammers, not having remembered the whole Halloween thing yet. He thinks Bucky might’ve come by his house with a group of his friends the previous year, but he can’t remember what he was dressed up as, if he did. He’s relieved about that; it’s not like he needs anything else to make him feel any creepier.

Bucky’s grinning at him like this is the most normal thing in the world. He just laughs and says, as if it should be obvious, “Uh, trick-or-treat? Last year? I was the Phantom of the Opera, remember? Sorry, should I have an empty pillow case with me to jog your memory or somethin’?”

“Why’re you here?” Steve asks abruptly. He can’t help but glance around, looking for Bucky’s friends; worried that someone might see.

Bucky’s not phased. “I have my test for you. Signed and everythin’.”

“And that couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

Bucky’s smile tapers a bit as he shrugs again. “Probably could’ve. I actually was hopin’ I could talk to you though – about the whole tutorin’ thing, I mean.”

“I told you that the guidance counselors office--”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky interrupts, waving his hand half-heartedly. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk about.”

This is the part where Steve should say no. That’d be the responsible thing to do – say no and tell him they can discuss it in class tomorrow (where Steve won’t be tempted to do something stupid). But Steve’s forever the optimist; always wants to give people the benefit of the doubt. So he sighs and rubs his eyes, nodding.

Bucky pauses, and Steve isn’t sure why. Then he chuckles shortly and asks, “You gonna have me standin’ in the cold the whole time, or…?”

“Oh, sorry,” Steve says, moving out of the way. He doesn’t exactly gesture for Bucky to come inside, but the invitation is still there. Bucky beams and waltzes right on in, and Steve’s eyes follow him with a frown to match. Okay, it’s cool; it’s fine. He can do this… Not going to be any sort of thing. He’ll make sure he keeps distance between himself and Bucky, keep the conversation to a minimum and on topic, and then politely ask Bucky to leave.  

He senses that Bucky has a habit of making himself at home, no matter where he is. That seems pretty accurate to his character, because Bucky’s always struck him as an open book; charismatic and lively, with a personality that seems to make everyone gravitate towards him. So when he kicks off his shoes and then heads straight towards the living room as if he’s already hung out in Steve’s place a hundred times before, Steve can only sigh, shut the door behind him, and follow.

“Wow, Teach! And who said that teachers don’t have lives outside of school?” Bucky muses, eyeing all of the framed posters Steve has lining his wall with an opened-mouth grin; eyes, filled with interest. Steve’s always been interested in art – namely, graphic comics and cinema. His walls are absolutely covered in vintage posters that’d taken him years – and sometimes intense bidding wars on eBay – to get, all from classic horror, sci-fi, or action films. Bucky notices the poster of the original Batman cover art above the wall where his TV is, and when he says, “How old-school,” it reminds Steve exactly why he can’t let Bucky dawdle and bide his time like this.

His actions are stiff as he stops next to his couch and tries to steer the conversation back on track. “So what was it about the tutors that you have a problem with?”

“Whoah, nice painting,” Bucky says, as if he hadn’t heard him. He approaches it quickly and regards it with genuine interest. Steve watches him squint as he tries to make out the messy signature in the bottom, right-hand corner. Surprised, Bucky looks to him and asks, “You did this?”

“Yeah, back in University,” Steve answers, sighing. “Bucky, c’mon. The tutors. Why don’t you want to see them?”

Bucky shrugs, continuing to make his way around the living room and taking everything in. Steve’s definitely a bigger closet-geek than his students would probably ever guess. Bucky seems to find it the most interesting thing in the world. “They don’t know me, sir,” he answers factually. “Don’t know how it is I operate. I have a hard time when it comes to homework, and facts,and all that crap, if it’s with someone I don’t know. I just get easily frustrated.”

Reaching out and running his fingers along a glass figurine of Béla Lugosi’s Dracula, he murmurs, “You know me, though. And I actually like listenin’ to you talk… Sticks with me more that way…”

Steve’s face flares. “That’s not what I’ve been seeing in your work,” he reminds him, trying to get a tighter grip on the reigns. “If you learn so much better when I teach you, you wouldn’t be failing.”

“Wow!” Bucky laughs, striding right past him towards Steve’s liquor cabinet, having only just noticed it. Before Steve knows what’s happening, Bucky grabs his bottle of Gold Patrón tequila to inspect it. “Never would’a pegged you for the hard liquor type,” he says teasingly, still cradling the bottle to his chest as he looks at the others with interest. “Thought you’d be more of a beer man – hey!”

Steve grabs the bottle from his hands and puts it back in its spot. “Bucky, stop,” Steve says with exasperation. He has one hand on Bucky’s shoulder, turning him away from the cabinet. “You’re too young to be drinking anyways; I’m sure as hell not gonna let you do it in my house.”

Bucky rolls his eyes with a scoff, but he lets himself be guided away without resistance; just trudges back further into the living room. “Yeah, I bet you never drank when you were my age.”

“I never drank at any of my teachers’ homes, and I didn’t let it affect my grades,” Steve retaliates. As if he needed the reminder of how much older he is – it’s both a sobering fact, but also an intoxicating one, and isn’t that just a big fucking conundrum. He sighs again when Bucky gets his eye now on Steve’s stereo, now moving to it enthusiastically and turning it on.

Steve tries to get Bucky’s attention by repeating his name, but Bucky just ignores him and changes the radio stations until he finds one he likes. It’s Z100, and it always plays the popular chart-toppers. Unfortunately, chart-toppers these days basically means ‘club-music’ – which means heavy basses and a beat you can sway your hips to.

Pretty much how Bucky suddenly is now.

Steve’s mouth instantly goes dry at the sight. It’s not like Bucky’s full-on dancing or anything; at first, he just nods his head while looking at the stereo. But then he looks back to Steve and grins, and that’s when he casually starts rocking his hips a little bit. It’d come off as subtle if Steve didn’t know better, but fuck, he knows better, and therefore those hips are exactly where his gaze falls.

Bucky notices. Laughing, he walks up to Steve and grabs his hands, pulling him over to the stereo before Steve’s brain can catch up with his body. “C’mon, dance with me,” Bucky says, putting on that innocent act again. That’s a little fucking ironic, considering that the very next thing he does is put his hands on Steve’s waist and press their hips together so he can start swaying against him.

Steve’s eyes bulge from his head, and the instant contact is already enough to get him hardening in his jeans, and Bucky’s eyes are filled with mirth and mischief – does he feel Steve’s growing erection? Oh, shit… Lifting his hands – I’m not touching you; I’m not touching him, see?? – Steve tries to back away.


“C’mon, it’s just dancin’ – ain’t nothing wrong with that,” Bucky laughs in response, getting all close and snug again. He presses his hips flush against Steve’s and does a little twist with them, and for a second, Steve sees white as the quietest groan escapes him. He can tell that Bucky definitely picks up on that, and that’s what jars him.

“Buck – wait – no, okay, enough!”

This time, he makes sure to turn away completely; out of Bucky’s grasp, putting distance between them again. His breathing is a little heavier, and doesn’t this kid understand that they shouldn’t be doing this? Doesn’t Bucky see how wrong this would look to everyone else? He’s expecting Bucky to look hurt by Steve’s apparent rejection (is that what he’d done? Does that count as ‘rejecting’ him?).

…Does Steve really want to reject him…?

Bucky doesn’t look hurt, though. On the contrary, he looks at Steve as if he sees right through him and his defenses. Remaining where he is, he holds the blond’s stare and then says casually, slowly, “Y’know I’m also taking that mandatory health class, yeah? Well, we just finished the unit on sexuality and reproduction – the importance of safe sex, the chemical reactions in the body when aroused, all the biological stuff for how the whole thing works… You know what I found out that I never knew before? Your pupils dilate when you’re turned on.”

If Steve’s supposed to reply with some sort of counter argument, now’s a good a time as any. Except he realizes exactly what Bucky’s implying, and his throat suddenly feels tight. All he can do is swallow. Bucky bites his lip, eyes looking like they visibly fucking darken. His voice sounds like it drops a tad, thick with arousal, as he suggestively adds, “Your pupils? They’re big as fuck. Can see them from all the way over here.”

He starts to come back towards Steve slowly – as if to give him the chance to try running again, and Steve wonders if Bucky already knows that Steve isn’t going to run. He should, that’s fucking obvious. But his feet feel nailed to the floor; him, lulled in by that gravitational pull of Bucky’s. The only thing he can do is back up a couple feet, until his legs bump into the couch. Bucky checks him out – up and down – without shame, until his chest is practically pressed to Steve’s.

They’re so close in height that the top of Bucky’s nose comes to the bottom of Steve’s, so Bucky can still have room to look up at him through those lashes of his, while also being even enough that all Steve would have to do is tilt his chin down to kiss him. His heart’s pounding wildly.

“How about mine?” Bucky whispers. “How big are my pupils?”

Massive. There’s only the thinnest ring of colour left to his irises. Steve stares back, completely out of his depth; opens his mouth to answer but then just sort of leaves his lips parted. His breathing comes out shaky. He hopes Bucky can’t hear it over the music. Bucky’s looking at him like he’s a meal; he isn’t smiling anymore. That’s a gaze that spells, I want you to fuck me into the floor. There’s no two ways about it. Not saying anything, Bucky slides his hands up the front of Steve’s cardigan – thumbs brushing over the white shirt underneath once he hits near the collarbones – until he’s palming the older man’s shoulders.

He guides Steve to sit down. Feeling hypnotized by their unfaltering eye contact – the heat and intensity in Bucky’s stare – Steve lets himself fall back into the couch without struggle. Now he’s looking up at him, and at this angle, Bucky seems so much older than he really is… But he isn’t. It’s one of those smacks in the face again – a nice, cold splash of reality – and Steve needs to end this before he does something he can’t take back… Like undo Bucky’s pants and get his lips stretched around his student’s cock or something…

He opens his mouth with absolutely zero planned in terms of what he’s going to say. Bucky leans down then, and Steve finds himself robbed of all words a second time; just presses himself harder into the couch cushions behind him, as Bucky places one hand on either side of his head and then gets his face close enough to teasingly brush his lips against Steve’s.

“Just watch,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “You’re allowed to watch me…”

Straightening back up, the first thing Bucky does is cross his hands at the hem of his black v-neck t-shirt and pull it over his head. It leaves his hair slightly disheveled, but that’s not where Steve is staring. Bucky’s tall and always had the appearance of being lean, but Steve isn’t prepared for the abs he’s got going on. He’s actually got more meat on him than he appears to, what with the looseness of his shirts. His biceps are bigger, too. The dog tags he always wears fall back to the center of his chest, clinking together.

Steve’s definitely fully hard now.

Bucky tosses his shirt aside and starts to rock his hips again in time with the music from the stereo. It seems like forever that he keeps his fiery gaze locked with Steve’s – never blinking, never stopping his slow dance; reveling in the way he’s got Steve’s full attention on him like this. Steve couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. And that’s part of the problem: he doesn’t want to look away. Bucky is fucking stunning; puts all of his darkest fantasies to shame. Bucky’s got him right where he wants him, and Steve knows this is going to end badly - but the way Bucky’s moving his body is exquisite, so it’s making Steve start to not give a shit.

“I know you see me starin’ when we’re in class,” Bucky says, voice like velvet. He slides his hands up his chest, the curve of his neck, and then cards his fingers through his hair. “You pretend you don’t, but you do. I see it. How can you expect me to pay attention when you look the way you do?”

“Bucky…” We can’t do this. We shouldn’t do this. Steve loses his ability to talk again at the most inopportune time.

“Started a few months ago – can’t pinpoint when, but… I had a dream. You bent me over your desk and fucked me with your hand over my mouth so no one else would hear me scream your name,” he continues. Inhales deeply and bites his plush bottom lip again, clearly remembering the image in his head. “That’s all I’ve been able to see since, every time I look at you, sir. Thought it was just a stupid schoolboy crush – some fantasy that was all in my head… ‘Till I started noticing you blushing around me.”

Steve gulps. Deny it, he tells himself. He can’t. It’s exactly what happened, even though he’d tried so hard for it not to be.

“You feel disgusted with yourself,” Bucky murmurs pointedly. His fingers crawl back down to the waistline of his skinny jeans… Pop open the button and then slowly drag down the zipper… “You’re not supposed to want me… I’m everything you can’t have: young… untainted… innocent flesh… Can’t say I blame you, though… Makin’ like the way of Eve, right? Fruit tastes so much better when it’s forbidden…”

(He ghosts his hand over the outline of the hard-on visible against his inner thigh, and Bucky’s breath catches at the contact. His eyes flutter closed for just a fraction of a second, and Steve exhales heavily, squirming a bit; eyes not sure where to stick, because Bucky’s grinding his palm over his own cock for fuck’s sake, but his face looks absolutely, sinfully hot right now…)

“Society tells you it’s wrong,” Bucky continues, eyes opening again beneath heavy lids. He starts to teasingly slide his jeans down his hips. “But what if I want it, too? M’not a kid, sir. I know you may think I am, but I’ve been through more in my life than a lot of ‘adults’… I’m old enough to know what I want and what I’m doing…”

He gets himself out of his pants and toes them aside before removing his socks. He’s left in nothing but his black boxer briefs; the hard outline of his dick completely noticeable as it pushes against the fabric. Steve wants to touch him so badly. His hands flex by his sides, but he forces them into fists so he doesn’t give into the urge. Bucky gets a little, adoring smirk as he takes in how hard Steve’s still struggling.

“Don’t worry, you’re not breakin’ any laws,” he then tells him. Steve completely freezes as Bucky plants one knee beside him and then grabs onto the back of the couch. Swinging the other long leg over him, Bucky straddles his lap and leans in quickly, caging him in. Bucky smells like cigarettes and body spray. It goes straight to Steve’s head and makes it spin off its hinges.

Bucky reaches up slowly and cradles one side of Steve’s face. He gets close enough that he can tease the blond’s lips with his own – not enough to constitute as an actual kiss, but enough that Steve’s left aching for exactly that.

“Don’t worry, Steve…” Bucky breathes. “I’m over the age of consent… I checked…”

Steve’s eyes are glued to Bucky’s. He looks about as helpless as he feels – and right now, he feels like he doesn’t know how to feel with himself. Because he can put a stop to this. He’s stronger than Bucky, he could just physically move him off of his lap, get to his feet, and demand for him to leave.

The fact is, he doesn’t want to do any of that, no matter how much he’s trying to remind himself that what they’re doing is wrong.

“You can touch me if you want,” Bucky continues. “Or you can tell me to stop. Tell me to stop and I’ll go, right now, and I won’t tell no one. You won’t have to worry about losin’ your job, or my parents finding out. You’re allowed to say no.”

“This is wrong…” is the only thing Steve can muster enough brain power to say. It comes out barely above a whisper.

“The most pleasurable things in life usually are.”


“Are you askin’ me to stop?”

It’s a serious question; sure, it doesn’t cool the burning in Bucky’s eyes, but Steve can tell by his tone that Bucky isn’t fucking around about this. It’s so fucked up, this role reversal – as if Bucky’s the one trying to make sure that Steve’s consenting. How fucking backwards is that? But this is it, this is Steve’s chance. Bucky’s giving him an easy out. Steve can say no, and Bucky swears he’ll leave and they’ll never have to talk about it again.

In that moment, Steve realizes that those aren’t the actions he’s going to take, because Bucky’s completely obliterated his common sense. Instead, he gives the tiniest shake of his head. One corner of Bucky’s mouth turns up into a smirk; lips parted, and Steve can see the tip of his tongue and he wants to fucking suck on it. He just clenches his teeth together as a poor substitute.

“You’re nervous,” Bucky whispers soothingly. Chuckling breathily, he says, “I like that. You wanna touch me but you don’t know how. It’s okay, Steve, you’re not doin’ anything wrong here. This’ll be our little secret…” Steve goes rigid when he feels Bucky reach one hand between them to feel for Steve’s crotch. His palm presses against the thick silhouette of his dick and squeezes instinctually. Steve’s brows crease as he gasps, and Bucky’s eyes widen with surprise, his open-mouthed smile growing.

“Or maybe not so little?” he teases.

Bucky’s hand is on his dick and Steve just snaps. Exhaling loudly – brows still tightly furrowed – he closes the small space between their lips and slams his mouth to Bucky’s. It pulls an immediate moan from Bucky’s throat, and suddenly they’re kissing heatedly. Steve grabs Bucky’s hip with one hand and reaches up to hold the back of his head with the other; tilting their faces from side to side feverishly as they part their lips and beat their tongues together.

He feels Bucky kneading him from over his pants, and the body in his lap starts grinding against the tops of his legs – against his own hand – as if he just can’t control himself. Steve pants roughly as he meets every kiss with the same conviction that Bucky has, feeling like a dam between them has just been obliterated. Bucky keeps releasing these throaty little moans into his mouth, like this is his absolute favourite thing in the world. Bucky feels so large and yet so small in his hands. He’s a sick fuck for finding that so fucking erotic, but he wants him, oh god, he wants him.

Bucky kisses him almost aggressively for a few more seconds before pulling away to make a grab at Steve’s shirts. Securing both of the hems in his hands, he tugs them up Steve’s stomach to signal what he wants. So Steve straightens a bit so he can yank both the cardigan and the t-shirt he’d been wearing underneath it off of him. He stares back up at Bucky’s face as he blindly tosses them off the couch; watching as Bucky’s own eyes drop to his bare torso. He feels a hand splay against the center of his chest and then shove him hard against the couch cushion so Bucky can get a better look at him.

Steve’s all hard muscle – and plenty of it, at that – because he’s worked hard over the years to get the body he has now. No one ever guesses that about him though, given what he always wears at work. It’s a school environment, so he dresses accordingly. That’s why, over the years, he’s also gained a bit of a funny reputation for wearing various cardigans, sweater vests, and what the kids jokingly call ‘old man clothes’. Tony Stark, one of the science teachers, calls him ‘Senior Steve’ because of it.

So this is probably what Bucky was hopingfor but not expecting. What he was alsoclearly not expecting is the other very convenient thing all of Steve’s long-sleeved shirts hide: his ink. A few lines of a quote beneath his clavicle, a tattoo for a late friend on his rib, and tattoos all down his inner arms and biceps. Bucky drinks in the sight of all of them and curses under his breath. It makes Steve feel far prouder than it should.

“Holy fuck, Steve… Like… Who the fuck are you, even? Tattoos… Fuckin’ abs… Am I gonna find piercings anywhere, too?”

Steve chuckles, breathy and antsy and nervous. “No, no piercings,” he replies.

Bucky’s running his hands all over Steve’s chest now. Steve’s eyes flutter back and close as he rests his head against the cushion with a sigh. He keeps tightening and relaxing his grip uncontrollably on Bucky’s hip.

“You look like you were carved straight out of a wet dream,” Bucky mumbles. “God, you’re fuckin’ hot. God…”

His mouth is back on Steve’s, eager and greedy. Steve just lets his lips part; lets Bucky lick straight into his mouth and control things for a little bit. Now that Bucky’s hand isn’t in the way anymore, he grinds himself down over Steve so they’re touching just right. Bucky’s little whimpers are shaky. They taste as sweet as Bucky is; travel all the way down Steve’s body and make him feel like he’s pulsing all over the place. When he groans in response and begins to roll his hips up to meet Bucky’s, Bucky hisses between kisses, “You want me?” and all he can do is pant back, “Yeah…

Bucky breaks the kiss to start trailing his lips noisily down Steve’s throat. Steve’s senses are in overload, so he can only arch his head back a little and groan again whenever Bucky gives his skin a little nip. He clutches him tighter, but also says quickly, “No marks, no marks… Can’t go into work with a hickey.”

“Mr. Serious,” Bucky teases with a small laugh; rubs his tongue over the last place he’d bitten. Steve sighs – that feels so nice – and replies, “I’m serious, it’d get me into deep shit. Not very professional…”

“Tell them your girlfriend gave it to ya,” Bucky murmurs, kissing across the base of his neck to coat the other side.

Fuck… I don’t – yeah, no, I don’t have one…”

“Do they know that?”

“Uh… I don’t know…” He breathes out a chuckle of embarrassment. “M’having a hard time thinking at the moment…”

“What about down here?” Bucky asks, licking along the collar bone above Steve’s tattoo. “No risk of seein’ one here, right? As long as you keep wearin’ those grandpa shirts of yers…”

He pinches the thin skin there with his teeth and Steve gasps. He can feel Bucky smirk against him; gives him a small, experimental suck. Steve licks his lips, eyes still closed, and then nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, there’s fine.”

Bucky’s got a mouth like a goddamn hoover on him. He brands Steve’s collar with the perfect balance of suction; that achingly perfect mixture between pleasure and pain. Within a minute, there’s a generous blotch of reddish-purple bruised onto the skin, but Bucky doesn’t stop there. He breathes haggardly through his nose while he adds another four, five hickeys, spread out between both clavicles – and Steve’s practically writhing beneath him.

When he’s got his lips back up to Steve’s ears, Bucky whispers, purposely making himself sound as sweet and as young as possible, “Can I suck your cock, sir?”

Steve’s mouth is still hung open, eyes narrowed and glassy, as he turns his face enough to meet Bucky’s gaze. The younger boy’s lips are swollen and a deep red, shiny from Bucky swiping his tongue over them, and this is exactly like one of the things Steve fantasizes about… Bucky asking him that, looking at him the way he’s looking now… Except in those dirty fantasies, Bucky was the doe-eyed one. In reality, that’s all Steve.

He nods.

“Yeah?” Bucky says, grinning excitedly.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers quickly. Bucky quickly climbs off of him so Steve can undo his pants. His hands are shaking, he’s so fucking horny, and it’s almost humiliating how quickly he’s trying to get himself undressed. He can hear Bucky chuckling, but then he shoves his jeans down to his knees, and Bucky isn’t laughing anymore when he gets his first good look at Steve’s cock.

Steve’s not massive – he’s a little bigger than average – but he’s been told plenty in the past that he has a nice cock. There’s a natural little curve, it’s got a nice, sturdy thickness, and it’s cut. Bucky looks down at it like he’s just discovered the lost fucking city of Atlantis, before outright moaning needily and bending down.

There’s literally no preamble. Bucky just grabs the base of it and holds it straight so he can lick the flat of his tongue right up the side, then close his lips around the tip and suck straight down. It’s instant, maddening heat and slick. Bucky’s had to have done this before because he sucks cock like a fucking master – and the thought makes Steve feel irrationally jealous and that’s so fucked up, but it’s also dirty, and right now, the wrongness of the whole thing is only making it hotter for them. Because Bucky was right… Fruit does taste better when it’s forbidden. It’s human nature – that competitiveness engrained inside everyone – that makes a person always want what they’re told they’re not allowed to have.

Steve may not be breaking any laws by doing this, but he could still lose his job for it. It could still ruin his reputation. There’s a lot at stake, a lot that could go wrong if anyone were to find out. It’s so fucking sneaky, and honestly, it’s the riskiest thing Steve can remember doing in years. And it’s awful, he’s awful – oh god, yes, Bucky’s so fucking good at this, oh – but this is exactly what he wants. What they both want.

With his hand resting gently on the back of Bucky’s head, he feels out the up and down movements as Bucky keeps his pace and gradually works to get more and more of Steve’s dick into his mouth. He watches the side of Bucky’s face, his cheek… Sees the outline of his cockhead every time it slides back along his student’s tongue and Bucky hollows his cheeks out so fucking perfectly… With the other hand, he rubs up and down Bucky’s bare back before snaking his fingers into the waistline of those black boxer-briefs.

Bucky’s ass is small to the touch but just as lean as the rest of him. Bucky groans enthusiastically around him when he feels Steve’s hand slide over his cheeks. At the same time, he rolls his tongue around the tip of Steve’s dick, eliciting a grunt from the blond and making him squeeze Bucky’s ass firmly. He’s never been intimate with a guy – hell, he’s never even watched gay porn before, but Bucky’s ass feels so perfect and all he wants to do is stuff it with his fingers.

He kneads it for a while – as Bucky eventually relaxes himself enough to deep-throat Steve’s cock, leaving his mouth wet with spit – until Bucky’s cheeks must be aching. But the boy doesn’t stop pushing back against Steve’s hand the second he thinks Steve might stop. When curiosity gets the better of Steve, he slides his middle finger down the crease until he feels Bucky’s tiny little hole. He gives it a light tap so Bucky knows what he’s after.

Bucky hums, nodding excitedly and letting Steve’s cock fall from his mouth. “Yeah, please,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. “You ever done that before?”

“Um… No, actually. Not really."

“Fingered a girl before, though, right?”

Steve’s face goes red; the hand that’d been on the back of Bucky’s head flies up to his face so he can cover it. “I’m thirty, Bucky, what do you think?” he says uncomfortably.

“Okay, well it’s basically the same sort of thing once you got them in there, you just gotta take it a bit slower,” Bucky replies, unphased. He leans over to fish for his skinny jeans. While he talks, his hand is shoving into his pockets as if searching for something. Suddenly, he pulls out a few small packets of lube. He tosses all but one onto the coffee table in front of them, then holds out the remaining packet for Steve to take.

“You’re gonna need plenty of this, though,” he explains, giving it a little shake.

“Please don’t tell me you carry those on you all the time,” Steve says, tone a little pleading. He doesn’t know if he can handle the idea of Bucky always being this prepared… Every single time he’d sat in class and watched Steve with those impish grins and fuck-me eyes.

“Why? The idea of me with someone else make you jealous?” Bucky says, getting a playful grin.

Actually, Steve hadn’t even thought of that, but now he fucking is. It’s obvious that Bucky only said that to get some sort of reaction out of Steve. And though Steve’s not about to go and tell him something like, ‘I don’t wanna see you with anyone else’ (because it’s none of Steve’s fucking business and he knows he doesn’t have that right), the jealousy that flashes throughout him must be evident in his eyes. It makes Bucky drop the act, leaning in and kissing Steve with a smile on his face.

“Relax, sir, m’just fuckin’ with you,” he murmurs. “I only brought it with me ‘cause I was hopin’ something like this might happen with you tonight.”

“I could’ve said no,” Steve tries to remind him. “What if I’d said no?”

Bucky shrugs one shoulder, but the evidence is right there – because when he kisses Steve again, Steve kisses right back, melting into it all over again. “Then I would’a dropped it and not made it so obvious anymore when I was checkin’ you out,” the brunet answers. “But I honestly would’ve been surprised… I could tell you wanted me, too.”

He beats his tongue to Steve’s for a few seconds; nips his bottom lip and then pulls back to place the packet of lube into Steve’s hand. “So what do you want now? Hmm?”

“I…” Steve stares from Bucky’s mouth to the lube. “I wanna…”

“You wanna… finger me, maybe?”

Steve groans. “Yes, fuck…”

“Mm, you’re so shy about this… You always like this, or is it just with me? I don’t mind, I think it’s cute. Definitely wouldn’t mind hearin’ some dirty talk outta that gorgeous mouth of yers, though.”

Steve looks back into his eyes and swallows hard. “I want you to suck my cock again while I see how many fingers I can put into you…”

Bucky’s mouth goes slack, smile vanishing completely again. Steve can hear the rush of air push out of his lungs, before Bucky exhales, “Yes, fuck, yes.” He crushes their lips together again and then kisses back down Steve’s body feverishly until Bucky’s mouth is once again enveloping his erection. He sucks him quicker this time, his impatience apparent all over. Steve’s nose scrunches up at the sight, the feeling of it, and it takes a moment for his brain to catch up to him.

Tearing open the pack of lube, Steve squeezes some onto two fingers and his thumb, quickly rubbing them together and spreading the slick. Bucky’s already reaching behind him and tugging down his underwear enough to reveal his sweet little ass. Steve palms the back of Bucky’s head with his clean hand again and lets his own tip back with a guttural moan; eyes rolling back into his head when Bucky suckles on the tip, twirls his tongue around it, and swallows it all the way back down in one try.

The fingers on his other hand feel for Bucky’s opening. The younger man jolts slightly when the cool lube touches his skin, pulling a chuckle out of him and an equally breathless one from Steve. “Sorry…” Steve says sheepishly, glancing back down. Bucky hums – ah, god – and then tilts his face slightly so he can open his eyes and peer back up at Steve. He looks so fucking obscene like this… staring at Steve from the corner of his eye, lids still half-closed, and lips stretched wide while Steve’s cock slides in, out, further in, out

His middle finger pushes against Bucky’s asshole. It twitches at his touch; makes Steve’s cock throb. It only takes a little coaxing to get it sliding in, and then only a little more coaxing than that to gradually work it deeper inside until Bucky can take it to the second knuckle. Steve’s never felt anything quite like that – women are wetter, absolutely, but Bucky’s insides are just as hot around him. This fit is snugger, though… Like a glove; fucking feels as though it vapor locks around the shape of Steve’s digit, like Bucky’s body wants to mold around his so perfectly.

Steve doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get his whole dick in there without splitting Bucky in half, but they can deal with that when it happens.

Holy shit… It really hits him then. This is going to happen. He’s going to fuck Bucky Barnes – student, his student… Teenager… Steve can’t think of those specifics for too long because it’s hard to feel too much guilt when his dick is halfway down Bucky’s throat, and that’s reason enough to feel even more guilt about it. But getting to fuck Bucky, with none of the add-on information… Holy fucking shit, please…

Bucky can take more than one finger. In fact, he can take more than two. And three. It’s been almost ten minutes, and all Steve’s been able to do is pant out groans and little fuck’s and listen to Bucky start fucking whimpering whenever Steve does something he particularly likes. He’s finally establishing a pace with his fingers that falls into a nice tandem with the rhythm around his dick when he feels Bucky tapping his thigh with his right hand. When Steve re-opens his eyes to see what’s up, Bucky holds that hand up and wiggles his pinky finger.

“Really?” Steve asks between heavy breaths. “You sure?”

“Mhm, mhm,” Bucky starts humming back quickly, nodding as much as he can without disrupting the bobbing of his head.

Jesus fucking fuck… Steve finds that opened packet of lube again, with only a little left in it. Bending to the side as much as he can, he manages to use his pinky and his thumb to spread open Bucky’s cheeks. He groans – feeling the inside of Bucky and seeing how his hole looks wrapped around three of his fingers are two completely different things. Combining the two together is pure perfection.

He drizzles the rest of the lube over that hole and his fingers, and then ditches the empty packet so he can keep Bucky spread with his dry hand. Like this, he can watch as he carefully works the tip of his pinky in there with the rest of his fingers. Steve’s never seen anything hotter. Bucky spasms and cries out softly. Steve pauses, worried that he did something wrong – maybe hurt him by accident. But Bucky just pulls back and Steve can hear him pant, “I’m fine, I’m fine… Just… Ah… Feels good… Stay like that, right where you are… Think you can turn your wrist a little bit?”

Unsure of what he’s doing, Steve raises a curious eyebrow and slowly twists his fingers a little. Bucky moans and then glances back to him. Lifting his right hand so Steve can see, Bucky nods and then demonstrates what he means. He has his thumb curled against his palm and four fingers straight out like Steve does; palm towards the ceiling. Then he flips his hand over so his palm is facing downward. Ohh… Steve nods, so Bucky trusts him to take over and goes back to sucking him off. Steve makes sure to be careful, slowly turning his hand over so he can finger Bucky with his palm facing downward, just like Bucky wants.

Bucky’s limits are definitely being a bit pushed with four fingers, but he doesn’t tell Steve to stop. Steve can feel the brunet’s body shaking and can see the sweat dotting along his spine and shoulders as the minutes pass and they continue like this. Steve can’t help it whenever he leans in and kisses Bucky’s hip, his ass cheek… Can’t help it when he bites it and tastes the salt of Bucky’s sweat… Only gets fueled by the impassioned, strained groans Bucky keeps giving him…

Bucky lifts that right hand back up for Steve to see, even though he doesn’t bother removing his mouth from Steve’s dick this time. He just trusts that Steve’s looking. With those four fingers sticking out, angled with his palm facing downward, Bucky curls all four fingers at the same time; keeps doing it, simulating what looks to Steve almost like a clawing motion(?). Nevertheless, if that’s what Bucky wants… Well, he certainly knows better than Steve, evidently.

Within Bucky’s body, Steve starts curling his fingers. It takes him a few tries to properly time the movements so he’s curling them every time he’s dragging them back out of Bucky’s body, but he’s a fast learner. Absentmindedly, he feels something brush against the tips of his fingers, and suddenly Bucky jolts and lets out this wrecked, wheezy cry. It almost sounds painful, it’s so vehement. Panicked, Steve goes to pull his fingers out, but then cries out himself when Bucky’s suddenly fucking his mouth over Steve’s dick even faster… Keeps humming quickly, these desperate little mewls – mhm, mhm, mhm…

Spurring Steve to keep doing that. So he does, and because he’s a grown-ass man who knows human anatomy, realizes that he’s stroking over Bucky’s prostate. Sometimes, Bucky starts nearly shrieking – the sound muffled around Steve’s cock – and it’s almost frightening how good that seems to feel for him; like it’s so euphoric that if Steve does it too much without a break, it’s over-stimulating him. So Steve slowly learns what Bucky likes best and adjusts what he’s doing to conform to that.

What Bucky seems to like best is for Steve to tease his sweet spot until his thighs are trembling and he’s practically huffing air – and cries – around the dick in his mouth, rather than actually sucking on it. Then Steve will back off for a short period of time and purposely avoid it, in order to give the younger boy the chance to calm down. Eventually, Bucky moans particularly sharply and then frees his mouth to chant anxiously, “Ah shit, Steve, Steve, sir, m’gonna come, gonna come, shit, mmm…!”

Steve’s almost glad of it, because he was starting to feel way too close thanks to Bucky’s ministrations – and though he’s not worried that he wouldn’t be able to get it up for Bucky again (he’d just need a short bit of time), he didn’t want Bucky to feel obligated to have to swallow his load or anything. So he stills his hand – earning a confused sound from Bucky – and then asks, “You wanna… I mean, you wanna finish in my mouth or something?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, mostly air. Pushing himself up, he glances back to Steve and oh sweet, merciful Lord… His face has been sweating, too; face all flushed and shiny with perspiration. Lips, swollen to almost twice their usual size, and eyes, glazed over. He looks completely out of it when he grins and then replies, “You ever put your mouth on another dude before, Teach?”

“No,” Steve answers honestly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Giving him a full-toothed grin, Bucky nods. “Yeah, okay, yeah.” He grunts as Steve retracts his fingers – oh fuck, Bucky’s asshole looks so much looser now – and then quickly straightens and finds his footing on the floor. “How’s your gag reflex?” the brunet suddenly asks. Steve quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t answer, so Bucky clarifies, “M’way too close for pleasantries. If you’re puttin’ your lips on me, I’m fuckin’ your face. That gonna be a problem?”

“Got no gag reflex,” Steve says confidently. His eyes have already fallen to Bucky’s own erection. The skin’s a little darker than Steve’s own perpetually paler flesh, but wow, Bucky’s not exactly small either. He’s still got his foreskin, from the looks of it; the tip all messy with precome.  “Fuck, your dick’s pretty…” he hears himself whisper in awe, before he even realizes he’s said that out loud.

Bucky laughs, but it’s still got that lustful edge to it, so Steve knows he didn’t just spoil the mood. He feels Bucky’s fingers thread into his hair - the tips scraping across his scalp – and Steve shivers. “Never had no one call it ‘pretty’ before,” Bucky admits. He steps closer and closer, making it known what he’s after. “Maybe it’ll look even prettier in your mouth, hmm?”

Steve licks his lips and then takes Bucky’s waist in his hands. He lets his jaw go slack as he leans in; waits until he feels the tip bump into his bottom lip - until he tastes that first bitter taste of precome on his tongue - to close his eyes and let Bucky push himself into his mouth. Right away, Steve’s divided on the whole thing – he doesn’t know for sure that he’d ever do this with any other guy, but he’s alright with doing it for Bucky.

He’s too focused on trying not to be complete shit at this that he doesn’t bother opening his eyes when he hears the choked sound Bucky makes above him, like all the air’s just been punched out of his legs. He feels Bucky’s other hand press to his cheek and stroke his temple with his thumb. But then all too soon, that hand is fisting into Steve’s golden hair, too, and suddenly Bucky’s grunting, “F-Fuck,” and keeping Steve still so he can start thrusting.

To Bucky’s credit, he doesn’t force the full length of his cock into the back of Steve’s throat every time – though it does nudge against it with every few thrusts. Bucky’s pumping his hips, setting a fast and hasty rhythm right off the bat, because apparently he wasn’t kidding about being close. He’s gasping and moaning unabashedly, while Steve squeezes his eyes shut tighter and breathes brokenly through his nose. He feels a little like Bucky’s whore right now, and he never would’ve guessed that he’d like that so much. He has to squeeze the base of his cock to stop himself from losing it, just from his mouth getting used like this.

Bucky’s moans turn into little shouts, until he’s throwing his head back and shoving as deep as he can go; reaching his peak, coming hot and full into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s a little thrown off by it, so he sputters at first, but then swallows it all down as quickly as he can. Figuring he can take back over now, he bobs his head shallowly – doesn’t suck, ‘cause he knows Bucky’s too sensitive for that right now, but just licks along his softening cock gently.

Oh… fuck…” Bucky pants, catching his breath and sounding surprised. Then he starts laughing - pulling back so he falls from Steve’s lips - before guiding his teacher back against the cushions. “Still got some stamina left in ya, old man?” he asks playfully, shedding his underwear the rest of the way off before straddling Steve’s lap again. Steve cringes. Grimacing, he gives Bucky a weak look as all of his prior hesitancies flood back into his mind.

Bucky recognizes his error and immediately cups Steve’s face. “Hey,” he whispers, kissing him. “Hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re thinkin’ too much again, stop.” Another kiss; Bucky whispers, “Stop, okay?” against his mouth. Steve doesn’t kiss back at first, still bothered and uneasy, but the longer he has Bucky’s lips against his, the greater his reservations fall.

Bucky presses their foreheads together. He opens his eyes and Steve does, too. “I told you I’m not gonna tell anybody,” Bucky promises him again. “And you’re not doin’ anything wrong. We were put on this earth to fuck, to enjoy things like this… It ain’t nobody else’s business but ours.”

Steve smiles, but it’s a shoddy attempt – self-deprecating. “Anyone ever tell you you’re pretty wise for your age?”

Bucky’s smile is genuine. “Yeah, actually… Now, you gonna second-guess your way out of this, or are you gonna fuck me?”

There goes Steve’s dick, twitching again against his belly. Bucky glances down at it before kissing Steve’s jaw, stamping a pathway to his ear. “Can I ride you? I got a condom in my jeans, too…”

Steve pauses for only a moment, but then he nods because yeah, he wants that just as badly as Bucky does. Bucky moves quickly, grabbing a new packet of lube as well as the condom. Scooching back enough so he can put it on Steve himself, he keeps his mouth attached to the blond’s while he strokes some slick over the latex wrapped around Steve’s erection. Bucky anchors his hands onto the back of the couch while Steve holds himself in position, and then Bucky starts to sink down onto him.

Their mouths drop open just a little bit more as they both exhale groans. Bucky seems to be staring at Steve’s shoulder, while Steve watches his face. The change in Bucky’s expression is instant and it’s incredible – his stare goes completely unfocused, like he’s just zoned out at the flick of a switch while he takes in the stretch, the feel of Steve entering him and claiming that territory. Deep, almost unprepared little moans slip out with every other breath. There’s the odd wince here and there, but he never stops himself until he’s fully taken Steve’s dick inside of him.

Bucky starts to ride him, and now Steve’s the one who was unprepared. If the way his fingers felt in Bucky’s ass was mind-blowing, there needs to be a new word invented to describe the sensation of having his cock up there. Is it like this with all guys - or is it just Bucky who seems to be perfection personified in every goddamn way? It absolutely is the tightest squeeze Steve’s ever felt, and it makes his mind go blank.

All he feels, and all he hears, and all he knows is nothing but Bucky. There isn’t even any room anymore for the guilt he felt earlier. Bucky’s taken over it all. He keeps his hands on Bucky, wherever he can touch, while Bucky fucks himself on him; holds his thighs, or hugs him close, or grips one hand on the back of his neck. When he thinks Bucky’s no longer too sensitive, he jerks the brunet off, doing his best to match the strokes of his hand to the way Bucky rocks or bounces on him.

Mostly there’s just a lot of heavy breathing and the odd groan or uttered curse between them, but when Bucky moans, he moans. Loudly. And it makes Steve glad he opted for a house all those years ago and not an apartment like he’d originally planned. There’s also surprisingly a lot more eye contact than Steve could’ve ever imagined. Sometimes, it feels like he’s forgotten how to blink, as Bucky moves against him and swallows up Steve’s entire existence – staring right back, and Steve wishes he knew what Bucky was thinking.

They stay in that position for a while. Sometimes, Steve will switch things up a bit by catching Bucky’s hips when he’s rising back up so he can hold the younger boy still and start lifting his own hips off the couch, fucking up into him fast and deep. That gets Bucky white-knuckling the couch and arching his back, crying out with his grey eyes closed and a delirious smile on his beautiful face. Then Bucky’s grinding against him again; circling his hips and panting, “Finger me, too…”

Steve didn’t even know that was a thing. He’d never even fingered a chick before while in the middle of sex, but it’s like Bucky voices a desire and Steve is desperate to follow it and give him what he wants. So he brings his clean hand to Bucky’s lips, watches with wonder as the brunet sucks on his index and middle fingers, and then reaches behind Bucky. Feeling his cock moving in and out of him admittedly almost makes Steve lose it on the spot, but with a few deep breaths and begging Bucky to slow down for a sec, he wills it away.

You’d think Steve had just given Bucky the gift of goddamn fucking ecstasy when he works first one and then both fingers into him. It’s a little bit of an awkward movement, because Steve’s never done this before, but once he gets the hang of sliding his fingers in and out in time with Bucky’s undulations over his cock, Steve wonders how he ever lived a day without it. Now Bucky’s moaning a lot more frequently, and Steve can’t help that the sound keeps pulling similar moans from him, too.

“Can you fuck me?” Bucky eventually asks. His eyes are still squeezed shut and he doesn’t stop bouncing himself up and down, but he does keep talking. “Like, actually fuck me, I mean. Wanna… f-feel… Ah!” His back arches again, and he’s a fucking masterpiece, this boy, Jesus H. fuck… “Sir… Sir… Wanna feel you give it to me… Oh, please, I’ll be so good – I’ll take it as hard as you wanna give me, ohhh…

Steve’s way past the point of being shy anymore – the truth is, he’s got quite the mouth on him in bed, too. He just needs to let go first, is all. And he’d let go a while back.

“You want me to fuck you?” he whispers back huskily.


“You gonna let me pound your cute little ass as hard as I want? Hmm?”

Bucky’s jaw drops even more, and his eyes open up just long enough to immediately roll back and close again, as Steve keeps him still with bruising hands and slams up into him, taking back over. “Yes! Fuck, yes!” Bucky shouts. Steve pulls him in for a filthy kiss, all parted lips and clacking teeth and tongues battling it out with an almost bruising force. Then Steve gives Bucky’s ass a light slap and commands, “On the table.”

Bucky nods, only coherent enough at this point to process the instruction and follow the motions needed to obey it. Getting off of Steve’s lap, he spins around and lies belly-down on the coffee table. Steve gives himself a few rough jerks as he rises to his feet behind him. “Ass up,” he orders next. Bucky moans excitedly, resting his weight on his forearms and straightening his legs so he can lift his ass as high into the air as he can.

Steve splays his hand against the small of Bucky’s back as he guides his cock back to Bucky’s hole. The slide in is almost effortless, but Bucky makes it especially good for him by deliberately clenching his muscles. They both moan with relief once Steve’s sheathed within him again, and then Steve gets a good grip on Bucky’s hips and starts pounding into him.

The way Bucky was moaning before is nothing compared to the sounds he’s making now. This is clearly what Bucky gets off on: being drilled, nice and rough… Wanting to feel every inch of it so he’ll be sore with the reminder for the next week. Steve wants that. Right now, his only goal is to make sure that tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, Bucky will be shifting uncomfortably in his seat so every time he looks at his teacher, he’ll remember, He was here, and he made me come so fucking hard.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Steve says through gritted teeth. He’s still got his hand pressing down on Bucky’s back; baby blues going back and forth between staring at the way Bucky keeps turning his head from side to side, to where he’s keeping him all the way opened up.

“Pull my hair,” Bucky begs.

Steve snatches the tresses at the back of Bucky’s head in his hand and yanks it back. There’s a ragged gasp to match, ripped right from Bucky’s lungs. It makes him arch so fucking spectacularly in Steve’s grip. He keeps Bucky like that for a while, using that handful of hair to anchor himself and get even more leverage when pulling Bucky’s body against him to meet his brutal thrusts.

“You like that?” Steve pants.


“You been daydreaming about this every time you were in my class?” He lets go of Bucky’s hair to nudge the brunet’s legs together, making for even more friction when he takes his waist back in his hands. He abruptly slows down his speed, instead making each one punctuated – as deep as he can go into Bucky’s body, smacking his pelvis against his ass loudly and making Bucky howl happily. “This what you’d get yourself off to every night?”

Oh god... Oh, fuck…” Bucky’s moaning quietly to himself. His right hand is flying aimlessly around the table; sometimes gripping onto the edge and others, tightening into a fist so he can slam it against the surface whenever something feels especially amazing. Steve watches him nod again. “Yes… Yessir…”

“You ever think of me when you’re getting fucked by someone else?”

“Yeah… Yeah…”

Steve feels that jealousy from earlier flare up inside him again. To be fair, he did open up that door by asking. The answer’s like a double-edged sword – on the one hand, the picture it draws in his mind of Bucky moaning and spread out like this for someone else makes Steve feel like seething, but on the other, if Bucky was always thinking of him… Still, he continues; asks, “You wanna scream my name when other people fuck you?”

“Fuck! Oh, fuck yeah… Almost did once…” Bucky chuckles, but it turns straight into a cry when Steve groans at the confession and then slides all the way into him; hips pressed to his ass so Steve can simply rock from where he’s balls-deep inside. Steve can’t wrap his head around how perfect everything feels when he’s inside of Bucky like this. He lets himself get lost in it for about a half minute, and then pulls out completely. Bucky grunts, shooting him a curious look.

Steve tilts his face towards the couch. “You mind if you get back on that? I wanna be able to look at you – I mean, if you’re okay with that.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, getting that gorgeous smile again. It makes Steve’s stomach twist and his heart race, and that’s probably just the endorphins and the chemical reactions talking. Has to be. Bucky drops back onto the couch, and then lies down across it at Steve’s request. Steve gets on next, positioned between Bucky’s legs. He pushes back in and then leans down so he can kiss Bucky while he thrusts. He’s always liked kissing while having sex; it doesn’t have to be lovey-dovey romance, but he likes there to be some intimacy, even if it’s just fleeting.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and holds him close, moaning softly into his mouth while they make out. Steve’s surprised when Bucky tells him that he wants Steve to finish in this position; that he doesn’t care how many more Steve wants to try, as long as Steve can fuck him just like this when he feels he’s close to his orgasm.

“I like to kiss when I come,” Bucky explains. Steve swallows hard – a nice, big gulp of air – and nods.

He likes this position for many reasons… Aside from being able to catch Bucky’s lips whenever he wants, he likes the way Bucky clings to him whenever Steve’s got his face buried against his neck. He likes that Bucky only needs to bring his lips to Steve’s ear to whisper what he wants – Harder… Slower… Faster… Right there… Just like that, Steve – and he likes even more that whenever he hits Bucky’s prostate, the brunet’s hands fly to his ass to grip it tightly in gratitude.

Steve straightens so he can wrangle Bucky’s legs up, getting his calves swung over his arms so when he leans back down and kisses Bucky again, he’s slightly bent, ass lifted off the couch. It only takes him a few thrusts before Bucky’s suddenly gasping loudly and going rigid against him. Steve smirks. It doesn’t take some sort of seasoned butt-sex veteran to know that, logically, given where the prostate is located, this sort of position would guarantee that Steve could fuck right up against it with the proper angle.  

Every time his dick is buried back into Bucky, it’s hitting it. Bucky looks stunned. Steve hopes he’s never had anyone do this to him before; fuck him this nicely, make him feel this good. He wants Bucky to remember this for the rest of his life, because he knows he’s going to. Bucky’s gasping with every thrust, to crying out, to screaming. It’s fucking music to Steve’s ears, and this is all he wants – to make Bucky feel like this. He wishes he never had to stop.

Bucky’s squirming beneath him; hands flying around again like they had been on the table. They thunk loudly off the couch whenever he tries to grab at it, or smack off of Steve’s skin when he’s suddenly latching onto him. Steve can’t stop staring down at his face, and Bucky doesn’t seem to know how to look away either. His grey eyes are wide, cheeks so fucking flushed, and he looks positively enthralled with Steve.

Steve can feel the walls of Bucky’s ass start spasming around him… Little tremors that let him know he’s got Bucky on the ropes, he’s so close… Steve wants to drive him all the way to the finish line. Hot air washes over his face with every loud moan Bucky deafens him with, until suddenly he digs his fingers into Steve’s ass and grabs his bicep almost frantically with the other.

“Oh god, sir, sir, Steve, m’gonna come, gonna come for you, ohh shit,” he’s whispering quickly, stringing everything together into practically its own word. “Oh god, please, call me ‘little boy’.”

Steve can let that sink in later. He’s too far gone right now to care. He just wants Bucky to come, all around his cock and all over Bucky’s own stomach. So he pins the younger man’s head down to the cushion with a rough kiss, before touching their foreheads so he can stare back down into Bucky’s eyes.

“You gonna come for me, little boy?” he demands, voice low and guttural.

Bucky’s nose scrunches up. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t break his stare; just breathes back, “Yes, sir…”

“You gonna make a mess for me, little boy?”

“Yes, sir…”

“Come for me, Buck.”

Oh… Sir…”

“Ah, god… Bucky, come for me, baby…”

“Fuck… fuck, Steve… Oh… Ah! Oh my god!

Bucky seizes, digging his head back into the couch cushion and finally closing his eyes. He tightens all over – Steve’s never felt anything like it – and for a split second, his mouth drops but he makes no sound. Then suddenly Steve can feel a streak of come hit his stomach, and Bucky’s pumping his load all over them, and then an elated, blissful cry pushes out of the boy. He starts shaking all over while he rides it out. Tilting his chin down, he pulls Steve in for that kiss he promised, at about the exact same time that Steve was already leaning in for one anyways.

Their lips meet and Bucky whines breathlessly against his mouth. It doesn’t take much longer than that, really, before Steve’s whimpering quietly into Bucky’s mouth while their tongues are pressed together – then he’s filling that condom right up, climaxing harder than he can remember doing in a long time. He groans, and the realization that Steve’s coming just makes Bucky kiss him with more fervor. Steve whimpers again helplessly; whimpers “Bucky” between kisses, and Bucky just sighs out a soft moan and sucks Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth so he can bite on it.

For all of his daily workouts, Steve feels like he just ran a ten-hour marathon the moment his orgasm subsides. His body feels so boneless that he can do little more than slump against Bucky while he tries to catch his breath. Bucky cradles Steve to him, and even encourages him to pull out after a minute or two, so Steve can rest his head on his chest and be more comfortable. Steve doesn’t even care that he’s pressing himself right into the mess of come coating Bucky’s stomach. It feels nice with him, like this…

The minutes pass, and they both come down from their highs. Steve stares ahead, sobering up with every passing second, as the reality of what just happened dawns on him. Somewhere in Bucky, he can feel that subtle shift, too. But Bucky doesn’t stop petting his fingers through Steve’s hair, and Steve doesn’t stop enjoying the way it makes him feel. It’s relaxing.

He breaks the silence first, after almost twenty minutes of neither of them saying anything. His voice is soft, quiet… An honest confession.

“I don’t know what this is…”

There’s a pause, and then Bucky replies just as softly, “Me neither…”

Steve keeps staring ahead, thinking. There are a million ways he can handle this situation, but right now, all he feels is peaceful. The whole situation had made him so anxious before, but once he’d let Bucky in, Bucky did nothing but soothe him.

“I like it, though,” he admits.

He can hear the smile in Bucky’s voice when he replies, “So do I.”

But it’s still wrong… He doesn’t say this out loud, but it hangs in the air around them regardless. Then it’s Bucky who breaks the silence this time.

“You’re gonna tell me that we can never do this again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answers honestly.

“Can ya do me a favour?” Bucky asks. Steve hums and turns his head so he can rest his chin on the brunet’s chest, looking up at his face. Bucky gives him that reassuring smile. “Think on it first? Don’t make any rash decision until you’ve considered all your options? ‘Cause… I mean, I had fun. I liked this, and I know you did, too.”

“I did,” Steve agrees quietly.

“All the more reason not to put a stop to it if you don’t have to. Just… tell me you’ll think about it, ‘kay?”

Steve takes a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his cheek before giving the tiniest of nods. “Okay.”

“Good. Is it cool with you if I take a tiny nap here before I head out? You sorta wore me out,” Bucky says, smile turning into a toothy grin.

Steve smiles back. “That’s what you get for calling me an old man.”

“Well, then I gotta call you that more often.”

Steve’s smile wavers, but he forces himself to keep it as he gently encourages the brunet, “Close your eyes, Buck. I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

He goes to get off of him when he feels Bucky tighten his arms around him and keep him where he is. “Stay; don’t gotta run for cover the second the fun part’s done,” he jokes, eyes already closed. He really does sound exhausted.

“I’m gonna crush you,” Steve says.

Bucky shakes his head lazily. “Mm-mm, you’re fine. You’re cozy. Just close your eyes with me… for a few minutes? The world will still be there when we’re done… You need to learn how to relax…”

He’s already slipping into sleep. Steve tries not to disturb him as he reaches across the back of the couch blindly, until his fingers find the blanket he always keeps there. Slipping it down, he shakes it out and then manoeuvers it over top of them. Steve watches Bucky’s face for a few moments before – he can’t help it – giving his neck a little kiss. Bucky smiles.

“Mr. Serious…” he murmurs sluggishly.

“Shh, Buck… Go to sleep…” Steve turns his face to the side again and rests his head on Bucky’s chest. He knows Bucky just wants Steve to shut off his brain for a little while longer, but he’s already thinking of everything and he can’t help it. He thinks about cleaning them up once he gets Bucky up in an hour… He thinks about how empty his bed’s going to suddenly seem tonight when he imagines how it’d feel to have Bucky in it with him… He’s going to chastise himself and go back and forth between questioning what he just did; accepting it without remorse to beating himself over it, and then repeating the process all over again… He wonders how he’s supposed to face Bucky in class tomorrow...

The conclusion he draws is that he has absolutely no idea what to do now. And he’s gotten himself into a real fucking complicated situation.

Maybe the best solution, for the time being, is to do what he told Bucky he’d do and give himself time to think about it… Not make any abrupt decisions before knowing anything for sure…

Sighing, he closes his eyes, wishing that sleep could come to him as easily as it did for Bucky.