Chapter Text
“I didn't want to kiss you goodbye — that was the trouble — I wanted to kiss you good night — and there's a lot of difference.” –Ernest Hemingway
--
The first time they work together is on a stage at the club, which isn’t the smartest idea but apparently they both owe Sam a favor and this was his payback request.
They do a run down beforehand, though. They’re professionals after all.
“Hard limits?” Steve murmurs, finding the correct notch for the buckle of his leather cuffs and pulling the strap through.
“No lasting marks, no blood, no watersports or scat. Go easy on the breath play.” James doesn’t look at all perturbed in stripping down and pulling on the silk panties left for him. His hair falls across his face and Steve ignores the way his cock twitches in his jeans. Ok. Maybe not ignores, but puts it aside for now and focuses on the important stuff.
“Oh. And go easy on the arm,” James adds, looking like he truly wishes he didn’t have to say anything.
“What do you like?” is Steve’s next question, and James twitches in surprise. Hopes Steve doesn’t notice.
He does of course
“You’re not used to that question?”
“No, I am I just…wasn’t expecting it…”
“From me?” Steve finishes, sounding a little peeved.
James doesn’t know how to answer honestly without offending him further, so he doesn’t, just turns back to the mirror. His eyes have already been rimmed with dark liner so he just swipes on some tinted, glossy chapstick and picks up the collar.
On a whim, he turns around and offers it to Steve. “Care to do the honors?”
Steve glances up from where he’s tying up his boots and James thinks maybe he looks a little surprised too, but he accepts the strip of leather with a smile.
He turns the kid so they’re facing the mirror, a hand on his shoulder and hand on his hip, and James shivers. Steve is a little rough, and it’s wonderful already. James’s eyes slide shut and goose bumps race over his arms as Steve loops the collar around his neck and checks the tightness with a finger. It feels like coming home.
Steve’s voice is lower than before as he catches James’s eyes flutter open in the mirror and he wraps a hand under James’s good arm and up to his neck, thumb and forefinger circling it like a second collar.
“Tell me your color, baby.” It’s a command and already James is letting go of his nervousness and stress from the day.
“Green,” he says sweetly, then adds with a little more bite, “Daddy.”
Steve hisses through his teeth and James feels it on his neck and then through his whole body as he says, “Good. Very good, James.”
--
Turns out, Steve is kind of famous.
Not like, famous famous, but still well-known enough that Bucky, as well as tonight’s audience, all had to sign non-disclosure agreements. Bucky supposes if you’re a high-powered entrepreneur it might not be great for business if it got out that you’re also into gay fetish stuff. Probably.
Bucky has subbed for all kind of Doms, some good, some bad, and all with different preferences. He has his preferences too, of course, but as long as no one crosses his boundaries he finds he can achieve the headspace he’s looking for simply by obeying.
Tonight is a little different.
As in, he’s not having to try very hard at all.
Despite not having answered Steve’s question about preferences, Steve is somehow finding quite a few of them. He orders Bucky to his knees the second they step onto the stage but tosses a pillow beneath him beforehand, and Bucky sighs gratefully at the feel of fabric when he’d expected rough wood.
He flicks his eyes up to Steve demurely. He’d like to say thank you, but he let’s Steve lead, Steve, who eases down in a chair and points to his feet.
Bucky bows his head and crawls forward until his face is just inches from Steve’s crotch and he’s settled prettily in front of him, hands on thighs. Steve winds his fingers through Bucky’s hair and tugs his head to one side, gently at first, then more roughly to the other and Bucky has to bite his lip because he doesn’t have permission to make noise and he loves having his hair pulled.
When Steve presses two fingers into his mouth though, he can’t help but whimper a little, and he thinks he’s been half hard since he walked on stage.
He hears the murmurs of the crowd behind him and arches his back a little harder.
Spit-slick fingers slide along his lips before fucking back into his mouth. “Putting on a show for them, huh? Good boy.” Steve’s voice is soothing, and Bucky preens under it, allowing himself to relax the rest of the way, to shake the nerves off and prepare himself to slide under.
“Look at you,” Steve breathes, and Bucky looks up to awed blue eyes. “Letting me have all of you. You trust me, James? You can answer me.”
Bucky isn’t sure why he’s asking, Steve’s got the control here, and Bucky gets the sense that Steve would be upset if he said no, but there’s no need to lie because despite only having known him for a few hours, he does.
“Yes, sir,” he answers quietly.
Steve let’s out a breath Bucky hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “So fuckin’ good.”
--
He’s amazing, this kid. Looks like he stepped out of a dream, scarred and tatted arm included. He’s got these huge grey eyes and long limbs and soft muscles and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever wanted a mouth on his cock as badly as he wants this kid's mouth on his cock.
And James is eyeing him like he wants Steve’s cock in his mouth, so Steve leans forward and says, “Bein’ so good in front of all these people. Might even get a reward. Would you like that?”
Smiling up at him like an angel with bruised knees, James nods and nuzzles forward along the inseam of his jeans.
“You want my cock, James?” The nod this time is more fervent.
“You get my cock, but I get something, too.”
He twists out of the chair and grabs the crop hanging on the toy rack, then watches James’s face as he turns back. There’s definite arousal there, but a hint of nerves too, and Steve catches him glancing down at his arm, covered quite visibly in tattoos and less visibly in scars.
Steve fists James’s hair again, holding him still, going for dominant but steady, and leans in so no one else can hear them. “I won’t even get close to your arms. Legs only ok?”
He can see the kid processing, eyes widening in gratitude, and Steve finds he wants to punch whatever douchebag made James feel like he couldn’t ask for things, especially his own safety. The kid finally nods and they slip back into their roles seamlessly.
Loud enough for the crowd, Steve says, “Well, get to it,” but as James raises his hands Steve cracks the crop against the stage, getting his attention. “Mouth only,” he says with a grin, and leans back into the chair.
--
Bucky’s still reeling from Steve noticing his worry, but it only intensifies his desire to be good, be exactly what Steve needs, and he licks his lips with intention before he mouths over the line of Steve’s cock through his jeans. Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s breath catches, and that little noise alone has him hardening even more against the black silk.
Even if Steve is holding out fine, as he seems to be, Bucky can only tease him for so long before the need sets in, the need to taste him, feel him hard and heavy on his tongue.
He’s holding out, too, for the snap of the crop against his skin. Loves the thought of the sting and oddly enough, loves the thought of bearing a mark from Steve for the week to come. Wishes for a cane. He knows Steve is trying to ease him in. Bucky wants to be overtaken.
He finally manages to undo his jeans with his teeth and peel the zipper back. People in the audience cheer and whistle, and Bucky thinks he’d like to whistle for Steve right along with them. He’s exquisitely muscled and tan and Bucky wants to taste every inch of him.
Steve’s cock is fairly hard already, but Bucky wants him fucking gone on him, so he licks up and down the fabric, wetting it completely, and only occasionally flicking his tongue against the head where it peeks out of the waistband.
For a minute, he wonders if he’s getting anywhere, but then the crop cracks against his legs and Steve says, “No one likes a tease, baby.”
Bucky leans into the sting before blinking up at Steve from under his lashes and murmurs too quietly for the audience to hear. He’d never embarrass Steve like that, talking without permission, but he does whisper, “Then what’re you doin’ to me, Daddy?”
--
This kid is going to be the fucking death of him.
He rips Steve’s jeans open with his teeth and gets to work soaking Steve’s cock through his underwear. People in the audience cheer for him. Steve’s a breath away from joining them.
The occasional kitten licks to his head where it rests above the elastic are driving him crazy, mostly because he wants that mouth on him, like yesterday, and it isn’t yet. He sees the kid squirming, practically begging for a whipping, and he gives him one good smack before he leans over to tell him he’s being a tease, and the kid, god help him, whispers back. ”Daddy.”
But it was just for him. Just for Steve. This kid is so good he's playing with Steve and the audience, and it’s working on both counts. But Steve’s job is to take care of James, and he intends to do it, so he stands up, hears the audience crow, and tells James, “Open your mouth.”
Steve can see the flutter of James’s pulse beat a little faster at that, and he shoves his pants down with his free hand. James obeys immediately, dropping those slick red lips apart and leaning in a little.
Jesus Christ, Steve thinks. The kid’s fuckin’ desperate for it.
When he pulls his cock free, he sees James smile a little.
“Tongue out,” he commands, and of course, like the angel he is, James does it.
Steve slaps his cock against his velvety tongue before pushing in, wondering how far he can go. He likes a little choking as much as the next guy, but doesn’t enjoy vomiting and makes sure to never take it that far.
It’s not an issue. James swallows him all the way to the hilt, taking little whimpering breaths through his nose. “Fuck,” Steve growls, and blinks down proudly. “That’s it baby. Suck me. Oooh.”
James goes at it like he was born to suck cock, but he’s pleading with his eyes about something, and Steve pulls off to ask.
“What do you want? Answer me.”
“Fuck my face, Daddy, please.”
The crowd hears and reacts immediately, murmurs getting louder, but Steve can barely hear them over the roaring in his ears.
--
He’s never been asked what he wants so many times in one scene. If they were boyfriends, or if they played together, Bucky would tell him he likes being bossed around, whipped into shape. Used.
But because they’re new to each other, and in public, the little check ins not only make him feel more comfortable, but are also getting him painfully turned on.
When he asks Steve to fuck his face and Steve does it like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing, Bucky almost blacks out from pleasure. Steve’s huge, but he can take him, loves the feel of his hands in Bucky’s hair and his cock in Bucky’s mouth. It’s incredible.
Bucky glances up at the clock. Each couple is asked for twenty to thirty minutes, and they don’t have a ton of time left, but even if he doesn’t get to come onstage tonight, Bucky knows he will be jacking off about this for weeks to come.
He owes Sam. Big time.
He feels Steve getting more tense, but at the last minute, Steve pulls out and says, “Your turn.”
Bucky barely has time to register what’s happening before he’s being hauled into Steve’s lap, and he doesn’t know where it came from but a blow from a cane lands on his ass.
He whimpers and grinds forward into Steve’s jeans. “You get ten. You’ll count for me, and you’ll come on ten. Got it?”
Bucky nods. “Answer me!” Steve growls and tilts Bucky so he can see his face. “Yes sir, please sir, oh god.” He’s babbling, but Steve seems pleased, and then there’s another crack and Bucky mewls, “One.”
Another, on the other side. “Two.”
They come down in different places each time, as promised only on his legs and ass. The sting lights a fire in Bucky’s stomach, and where most nights he’d be worried about being able to come untouched, tonight he was worried about coming early. Steve’s gruff voice and large hands smooth over him between blows, telling him how good he is, how beautiful, and Bucky believes him.
By eight he’s squirming and he knows there are tears on his face. “Nine,” is a breathy scream.
And ten? He’s not quite sure.
--
“He’s incredible,” Sam had said. “You should see him with Natasha. Amazing.”
Steve believed it the whole time, but he wasn’t sure if it was fair to ask the kid to come from caning alone. To ask him to come untouched at all.
Blowing Steve’s mind seemed to be the theme of the night though, and James had done it, not only taking the blows, but counting, all the while giving him these gorgeous little whimpers and screams, but never talking except for the numbers, so good, so obedient.
And then he came so hard that he froze, and Steve picked him up and carried him off stage. They were at their time limit, and he couldn’t think of a better end to a performance than a beautiful young man coming loud and hard in his lap.
The kid comes to as Steve kicks closed the door of the dressing room and lays him on the couch.
Steve grabs water and a granola bar from his bag and kneels down next to him.
“Hey,” he says gently.
“What happened?” James says blearily, and Steve can’t help but smile and brush his hair out of his face.
“You were incredible is what happened. And now I need you to eat this for me, ok? Can you do that?”
“Don’t have to babysit me,” James mumbles, looking grumpy and beautiful, but he takes the food, and Steve just laughs.
“I’m not. Now eat.”
James obeys the command, of course, because he’s wonderful, and after handing him the water as well Steve goes on a hunt through his bag for some lotion. By the time he gets back, the kid has finished the food and water and is sitting up somewhat more brightly.
“Here,” Steve says. “Let me put this on you.” James raises an eyebrow. Maybe he’s done being dominated for the night. “Please?” Steve amends.
James just smiles sweetly and rolls over.
Show off, Steve thinks
The welts don’t look too bad. He was trying to be careful, but James kept leaning into it like it was all he wanted in the world, and some of the marks would stick around for a few days, he knew.
“You were incredible out there, James. Fuckin’ phenomenal.”
James makes a strange little sound into the couch cushion and says, “Steve. You don’t have to…” He waves absently with a hand before finishing, “Do all that. All this. I’m…fine. And you’re…I mean, you were wonderful, too.” He’s blushing a little. It looks lovely on him. And he’s talking to Steve now, instead of the couch cushion, which is a good sign.
“I’m not doing anything because I have to, James,” he says, and begins applying the lotion to his legs.
Running his hands over James’s beautiful backside, Steve is reminded that he hasn’t gotten off yet this evening, and he is painfully hard. He breathes through it though, and thinks about how he’ll wait until he gets home, or until the kid leaves. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’d gotten off in this dressing room.
He realizes James is watching him.
“What?” he asks, surprised by how shy he sounds.
“You really were great. You made me feel safe.”
“Good.” Steve’s genuinely gratified. “I hope I made you feel more than just safe, but that’s definitely where it has to start.”
James nods and stretches a little, arching his spine as Steve finishes rubbing the lotion in, and Steve doesn’t quite muffle his moan in time.
--
Holy shit. Did Steve fucking Rogers just moan at him?
Oh yes.
He’s sore and tired and floaty, and Bucky has never wanted to be fucked so badly in his life.
“Steve?” he asks, trying for an innocent tone of voice.
“Hmm?” Steve murmurs, tucking his crap back into his bag. His back is turned but Bucky can see him blush in the mirror.
“You didn’t get off,” he observes. “I could help you with that.”
“It’s ok, James,” Steve says quickly. “You gave me more than I could have asked for tonight.” He means it, too. Who the fuck is this guy? Saint Rogers?
“I’m not being nice, Steve,” Bucky says clearly. “I’d like you to fuck me.” Oh man, would he ever.
Steve still looks unsure though, so Bucky pulls out the big guns.
He rolls onto his back, and runs his hands down his chest to his cock, hardening again already, and says in his sweetest voice, “Please, Daddy? Please fuck me?”
Steve fucking growls.
He’s on Bucky in an instant, a bottle of lube from his bag in hand, and is working Bucky open with thick fingers.
His mouth wanders everywhere, teeth on Bucky’s nipples, tongue tracing patterns across Bucky’s abs, sweet kisses to his neck, so different from the calloused finger sliding into him.
Bucky wants another finger, and he says as much.
--
For real though, this kid is going to kill him. Steve is going to have a heart attack at his sheer perfection and give up the ghost.
He can’t kiss him, can’t possibly, but he wants to taste him, and does so. The whole time, Bucky is writhing under him, whimpering, begging, and Steve only just gets the third finger in when he is demanding to be fucked.
Steve smiles fondly. “Brat,” he pants, but lines himself up and James’s sarcastic comeback is swallowed by a throaty moan.
“Yes, yes, please yes, oh fuck me.”
He’s terribly vocal when he’s turned on, which happens to be one of Steve’s favorite things. He takes a few minutes to make sure he won’t hurt the kid, but then he hits James’s prostate, James rakes his nails down Steve’s back, and he loses control of himself, trusting the color system to keep them safe and happy.
He pounds into James, who is too tight and hot and slick and Steve’s been hard for so long that he thinks he might just black out before he comes, but he wants James to come again, wants to see it, watch his face this time, so he lubes up a hand and curls it around James’s dick.
And James, because he’s perfect, fucking screams and comes so hard it hits his chin.
“Thank god,” Steve moans, and follows him over the edge.
When he comes to, his forehead is pressed into James’s neck, and James is reaching behind him to grab his cell.
“Shit,” he murmurs.
“You ok?” Steve asks, and James chuckles. Steve feels a pressure on the top of his head, like maybe James had kissed his hair, but he has to be imagining things.
“Am I ok? Steve, I just had two incredible orgasms in less than an hour. I’m fantastic. I’m over the moon. I’m- oh. I’m late.”
Steve sits up.
“Fuck. Am I keeping you?”
James shakes his head. “No, nothing like that, I just…You know Natasha?”
Steve nods. A fellow Dom.
“She’s my roommate, and she’s kinda…mother-y, I guess. We try’n be home by midnight most nights, and if we won’t be we check in. And I…” his voice trails as he types a response. “Didn’t check in. Well. Now I did. Anyway.”
He yawns, looking unfairly adorable and hands Steve his phone, saying, “Put your number in.”
It’s not a request, it’s an order, and Steve smiles. Orders do take the guess work out of things.
By the time he’s done finding the contacts and adding his number, James is dressed in skinny jeans and sweater and Steve wants to scoop him up, but resists the urge.
They weren’t even real partners. Just doing a job. It wasn’t like they’d work together again. Right? He startles when his phone goes off. The text says: Bucky, and it’s from an unknown number, but James has just flipped his phone closed with a smile.
“Bucky?” Steve asks.
James nods, pausing at the door. “Its…what my friends call me.” Then quieter, he adds, “Good night, Steve.”
The door is closed by the time Steve gets the words out, but they do happen, eventually.
“Sweet dreams, Bucky.”