Chapter Text
“This might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, not counting my ex-boyfriend.”
You stared up at the front of the strip club with a haggard sigh on your lips as you shut the door to the Uber and then smiled and flicked a wave as he merged back into traffic. It was Friday night and New York was in full swing as per usual for the City that Never Sleeps. You didn’t even remotely feel up for what you were about to walk into, not after a fresh breakup barely a week prior. You’d shut yourself indoors to binge on action movies and comedies and eat junk food, ignoring your feelings to instead bottle them up and throw them at random strangers like a Molotov cocktail. But now? Now, you need a distraction, and as much as you hated men right now, watching hot guys gyrate half-naked and/or fully naked would at least get your mind off of your misery.
You threw your shoulders back and held your head high, flipping your freshly styled hair to pretend you had actual confidence as you walked up to the guy up front and then handed him your invite. One of your college friends was tying the knot, so you’d RSVP’d even though you weren’t in the mood to simply get out of the house and out of your head. The bride was well off and marrying into even further wealth, so she’d actually rented the strip club out just for her party, which wasn’t cheap. To her credit, though, she hadn’t picked a gross dive; she’d gone with Stark Naked—a club owned by an eccentrically quirky billionaire by the name of Tony Stark. He had a group of the most sought after strippers of the city, which said a lot since New York’s night life had heavy competition. He had two factions with one focused on male strippers, the other on female strippers, and it came highly recommended as it was apparently just a great, immersive show with gorgeous guys.
The party greeted you warmly when you arrive and didn’t hesitate to push as many Jello shots onto you as humanly possible to loosen you up. You’d decided to dress to impress since you knew there’d be a fuckton of photos from the drunken girls, so you wore a cute black dress that hit you at the knee with a flared skirt, but had deep violet lace over the bodice, making your breasts and hips look wonderful, and paired it with a soft pair of black heeled boots. You wore violet jewelry and some light makeup, throwing yourself into the aimless conversations as the time finally wore down to curtain call.
“Alright, ladies,” the female Emcee said as she took the stage, dressed in a very cute 1940’s style pants-suit, as the package the bride had chosen was a Vintage Throwback package. “Are you all ready to have a rollicking good time tonight?”
The ladies cheered. You giggled into your apple martini, shaking your head at their enthusiasm. “I am so very proud to introduce your very first performer tonight. He is a man of mystery. A man of many, many talents. Hailing from Brooklyn, New York, would you all give a very warm welcome to the White Wolf himself, the one and only James “Bucky” Barnes!”
The girls stood and clapped thunderous applause as the curtains slid up and then the music started. Given the 1940’s theme, you weren’t surprised when Connie Allen’s brassy, sassy voice kicked up as the spotlight in the ceiling illuminated on possibly the most goddamn handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on.
He was six foot even, dressed in a pinstriped suit with spats, forties style, both of his big hands crossed where they rested over a jewel-topped cane. He had a leather glove on the left one, interestingly. His fedora hat’s brim hid his eyes as the lights came up on stage to show a forties New York city sky behind him. When the music kicked on, he lifted his head and then smirked with lush, full lips, wintry blue eyes, and a jaw line that made you want to lick it, it was so sharp.
“Would you like to ride in my Rocket 69?”
A blush swallowed your face as the stripper named Bucky strutted forward on the stage with a smooth and easy gait to the beat of the bawdy, lewd 1947 song, causing the rest of the girls to flock to the stage and thrust up their hands, begging to touch him or put ones in his pants. Sheesh, he hadn’t removed a thing and they were already hot to trot. Not that you blamed them. The drink dried on your tongue as you stared at him in wonder that he was just that damned handsome as he got even closer.
“Well, would you like to ride in my Rocket 69?
With a sweet man like you, we can have such a wonderful time…”
He grinned and finally removed the hat, tossing it to the girls, who fought over it playfully with each other. He had short dark brown hair, just enough for a handful to pull at the top. He winked at one girl and passed her the cane before pulling his mic down next to those incredibly fuckable lips to address his party. “Well, hello there, my little dolls.”
The ceiling nearly caved in from the amount of noise they made when he said it. Again, you chuckled into your drink and snapped pics, as that was your designation. You weren’t the DD or anything, but you had told them you didn’t need to be involved all the way and could take pics for the busy girls. You were an introvert at heart, but the bride had all but adopted you as an extrovert, so you were used to parties going this way most of the time.
“You all ready to have a great time tonight with Daddy?” he teased, and they just screamed even louder. “That’s what Daddy likes. I want you all on your best behavior tonight…”
He then winked. “…or I might have to spank a few of you.”
They lost their minds cheering. Your cheeks hurt from laughing as you recorded a bit of video. They were having the time of their lives, the silly things, and even with your lingering hurt from the breakup, it did your heart good to see them have fun. You swayed to the beat as he started to unbutton his forties suit jacket, exposing the tuxedo shirt beneath it.
“We’ll ride and glide and be so satisfied
Rocket 69, Rocket 69
Stand by
Stand by
The rocket is ready to fly!”
He continued the routine with sensual rolls of his hips as he peeled off the suit jacket, teasingly tossing it to the cheering girls. The bowtie was tossed next, then the shirt, and it was then you found out why he had the glove on his left hand at first.
Bucky’s entire left arm and shoulder had been fitted with a top of the line, gorgeous gunmetal grey and gold prosthetic arm.
Wow. You’d never seen that before, but…it worked.
He had wonderfully sculpted chest and droolworthy abs, the suit pants slipping low once he took off the suspenders to remove the shirt, then pulled the straps back up. He playfully tossed the glove to the girls next. After that, he offered a cavalier grin as he finally slipped off the stage to dance for the girls up close, letting them finally stuff in their bills. The teasing had been genius; it made them all but frantic for his attentions, so in seconds, his suit pants were chockful of bills and he’d schmoozed with each girl that wanted to cop a feel. He stopped to give the bride her own little thrill of dancing with him through the next number: “A Wonderful Guy” by Tex Beneke.
You’d been busy texting all the pics to the group chat, not paying much attention as the Emcee finished up and announced the next stripper—an equally hunky honey-blond guy named Steve Rogers. A shadow fell over the phone and you glanced up on instinct.
Just to find Mr. Bucky Barnes standing there with a rather patient smirk on those gorgeous lips. “Well, hello there, baby doll.”
“H-Hi,” you said, a blush climbing up your cheeks at his sudden appearance. “Um, I don’t, um, I didn’t request a…l-lap dance or anything. Is there…something wrong?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, leaning in so he could be heard more easily over the screams of your friends and over the music. “Everyone here’s having a great time and you’re over here all by yourself.”
His brows lifted. “Can’t have that on my watch.”
“Oh, um,” you said, quickly putting your phone down. “W-Well, it’s just…I was a late addition to the guest list and I don’t drink as much as my friends and as I understand, it’s a lot more fun to go to a strip club drunk than sober, so I volunteered for picture duty so they can have a good time, but not have to stop and constantly remember to take pictures while drunk off their asses—”
Bucky held up his hand. “I didn’t say you did anything wrong, doll. Just said you’re over here alone while your girlfriends are having fun and I hate to see it. I don’t force my company on anyone, but I noticed you in the corner and I wanted to introduce myself.”
He offered it then. “I’m Bucky.”
“H-Hi,” you stammered, saying your name back. “Um, I-I liked your routine. It was really good.”
“Thank you.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. It was incredibly hard not to stare at his bare chest. “Not a fan of strip clubs?”
“Oh, it’s not that at all. I’m just a very…nervous and anxious kind of person. I don’t do well when the spotlight is on me. I shrink away from it a lot and this is no different. I hope I’m not ruining the vibe. I’ll go if that’s the case.”
“Never,” he said firmly. “You just…I don’t know. I got this…”
He shrugged those broad shoulders. “…hunch that something’s bothering you and maybe I can help.”
“Help how?” you wondered.
He smiled gently. “Well, your friends have emptied their wallets on me already, so my dance card’s open until we do the ensemble show in twenty minutes. How ‘bout a private dance in the booth, just you and me?”
You blushed harder. “Um, that’s really…n-nice of you, but…I’ll be honest, I’m a nervous wreck. I got dumped a week ago and I only came here so I don’t take a hot bath with a cold fucking razor. I’m…not really in the mood for men, but this was an easy distraction so I made myself go.”
His expression sobered. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart, that sucks. You seem…nice. And you’re pretty. They’re a jackass, whoever they are.”
“It’s a he,” you muttered by way of clarification. “Trust me, I hate that I’m not bisexual. I think a lot of my problems are related to my desire for penises.”
He laughed. “And you’re funny? Fuck ‘im, whoever he is.”
You snorted. “Hear, hear.”
Bucky then took the seat beside you, that warm smile returning and making butterflies burst from cocoons in your stomach. “I’d still like to dance for you. I think it would take your mind off things and you’d be able to relax and have a little fun.”
You glanced down at your hands nervously. “I…appreciate it, but I’m not sure I’d be any good.”
“There’s nothing that needs to be good. You’d just get to enjoy and look and touch for a little while and not have to think about anything else.”
You blushed harder. Well, it did sound enticing to be alone with him for just a while. “H-How much would it cost if I…considered it?”
Bucky shook his head. “No, it’s on the house, sweetheart. Trust me, your friends have me set for the night. Pretty sure I made a cool thousand, for God’s sake.”
You laughed then, albeit nervously. “Now that I do believe. They’re yuppies, after all.”
He chuckled and stood up, offering his hand. “Then there’s even more incentive for there to be a free dance on me.”
“But they’re the ones that paid you—”
“I have a paddle in my dressing room,” he deadpanned, but you could hear the humor under it. “Don’t make me go get it.”
You swallowed hard.
Then you slowly gave him your hand and let him pull you to your feet. He didn’t move away at first, staying just close enough to make your heart jump erratically in your chest. “Don’t worry. I got you, doll.”
He then offered one more soft smile and pulled you towards the private booths along the right side of the strip club.
There were six booths along the hallway, each with its own red closed door with a number and a green light for vacant or a red light for occupied. Any other time, you’d never walk off hand-in-hand with a half-naked man you’d met five minutes ago. Funny how life worked. He’d grabbed a key from behind the bartender’s counter and unlocked it, letting you inside.
The room was cool and dark, decorated in red, black, and gold. There was a platform with a pole in the center and then a circle of red-cushioned couches in a semi-circle. There was a little digital pad to the right of the door to control the music. He’d already taken off his mic, so he just asked you to sit. Heart pounding in your neck, you made yourself sit and crossed your ankles, trying to stay calm to the mounting tension in the air.
“First things first,” he said with that same disarming smile. “Relax. You’re not going to do something wrong, doll. I mean that.”
He tipped your chin up gently so you’d meet his gaze. “You’re supposed to look at me and want me. It’s okay. You’re allowed.”
You gulped, but didn’t look away. “Okay, um…what do I…do? If anything?”
“Just watch me work. Have you ever had a private dance before?”
You shook your head frantically. He chuckled. “I figured, but might as well be sure. It’s not like on TV. If you want to touch me, you can touch me wherever you want. You can ask first or just do it—I’m comfortable with either. My only rule is no kissing, but that’s just the house rules anyway. Though…”
He licked the edge of his lips as his eyes lowered to your gleaming, freshly shaved legs. “…rules are made to be broken every now and again.”
Heat shot right to your center at that admission. You clenched your thighs together, which he noticed, but politely said nothing about. “Um, r-right, got it. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“I hope not,” he grinned as he then strolled over to the wall for the music player. “Since we’re all alone, I’m gonna cheat just a little bit and pick a song from the fifties if that’s alright with you.”
Your eyes were glued to his taut ass as he faced away from you. “Whatever you want is great, trust me.”
He chuckled as he chose a song and turned around. “Now she’s getting it.”
A guitar twanged to a steady beat as he took his place on the platform, just swaying back and forth to the beat at first, his summer sky eyes fixed totally on you.
“Ooh-ooh-ooh
Sixty minute man, sixty minute man!
Looky here, girls, I’m tellin’ you now
They call me lovin’ Dan
I’ll rock ‘em, roll ‘em all night long
I’m a sixty minute man
If you don’t believe I’m all I say
Come up and take my hand
When I let ya go, you’ll cry, ‘oh yes
He’s a sixty minute man…’”
You damn near panted with lust as he slid the straps to the suspenders down, his hands dropping to the zipper. He toed off the dress shoes, leaving him in black socks, and then unzipped the tuxedo slacks to the beat of his hips rocking. He slipped out of them and tossed them on the couch, leaving him in those sort of super tight, super short trunks that college swimmers wore. It was likely just more comfortable than a G-string, you wagered, and it also drew attention those luscious thick thighs of his. You’d never even met a guy this hot before and yet here you were, inches away from a nearly naked one. It felt surreal, honestly, watching him stalk closer and closer to you to the beat of the lewd fifties song.
“There’ll be fifteen minutes of kissing
Then you’ll holler, ‘please don’t stop’
Don’t stop!
There’ll be fifteen minutes of teasing
And fifteen minutes of squeezing
And fifteen minutes of blowin’ my top, pop pop pop!
If your old man ain’t treatin’ you right
Come up and see ol’ Dan
I’ll rock ‘em, roll ‘em all night long
I’m a sixty minute man!”
When he slid close enough to touch, you all but shoved yourself back into the cushion to shrink away, simply nervous of the heavy eye contact and the way you wanted to leap onto him like a silly horny little monkey and kiss the living daylights out of those fuckable lips. He noticed your stiff body and chuckled in his throat, surprising you as he knelt down in front of you. He tapped the toe of your boots. “Can I take these off?”
You couldn’t help a confused look, but nodded anyway. “Uh, yeah, that’s okay.”
He unzipped each one and then took them off, setting the boots aside. He ran his hands up and down your calves slowly, caressing them until some of the tension slipped from your lower body. “Do you want to touch me?”
You nodded mutely. He smirked. “Then touch me.”
Fucking hell, this was all so nerve-wracking. You tried to keep your fingers from tremoring as you let your fingertips ghost over his broad shoulders, feeling the coolness of the left metal one, biting your lower lip as your palms skated across his pectorals and then down over those incredible cobblestone abs. He felt so strong, so firm, the slightly tanned skin only broken by a line of scars where the prosthetic arm connected to his upper body. He smelled absolutely fucking incredible to boot—like some spicy, exotic Romanian cologne.
You found out why he’d taken off your boots a moment later—he pulled your legs onto his broad shoulders. The sight of his head between your legs, so warm and close and gorgeous, made your eyes clamp shut and your hands clench to fists on the cushion on either side of you as another wave of arousal stole your breath.
“Easy,” he murmured, tilting his face enough to kiss the inside of your knee. “Easy, doll. It’s okay. I want this. You want this. You’re not doing anything wrong. Relax for me. Just breathe.”
“M’sorry,” you mumbled hoarsely, trying to calm your storm. “I haven’t…in months…I think I’m a little bit…t-touch starved.”
“S’okay,” he murmured back, lightly stroking your outer thighs. “Take your time, baby. It’s not hurting anything at all, I promise.”
You forced your eyes open enough to finally look at him, your throat tight. “I just…maybe we should stop. Maybe…you should…d-dance for one of the other girls. Someone less…broken…”
A look of sympathy flooded over his face. “Hey, come on, now. Even if you are, doesn’t mean you can’t still want things and feel nice.”
That hurt, especially hearing it from someone as sweet as him. You felt stupid and silly for thinking you could be anywhere near someone so incredible, not after you just got dumped. An instinct told you to run from him. He must have noticed you tensing up; he reached down for your hand and then very gently rested your palm to his cheek, letting you feel his five o’clock shadow. He kissed your palm slowly, eyes closed, then the inside of your wrist, making you tremble with need and want. He pulled your hand back just enough to then slide your index finger inside the heat of his mouth and you moaned before you could help it, shivering deeply. “B-Bucky…”
“Easy,” he whispered, slowly sucking each and every one of your fingers one at a time. “Easy, baby, that’s it, just let me take care of you…”
He slid those strong arms under your ass to pull you closer, then rose up higher until both your lower bodies were level. It left you half-tilted on the seat, shivering as you felt the outline of his hard cock against your wet sex through three layers of clothing. “I want to try something with you. I’m gonna ask you a question and I want you to be completely honest with me. Doesn’t have to leave this room.”
You gulped again. “W-What?”
His voice came out very soft. “Would it make you feel better if I gave you an orgasm right now?”
You froze.
“Easy,” he said again, continuing when he noticed the panic on your face. “Not penetration. Not oral. It’s…not against the house rules if we go for dry sex. It’s just something we don’t do with every single client since that’s how you can accidentally pick up a stalker. I only let a handful of my clients have those privileges and…you seem like you need it. Like it would help you relax tonight.”
“Why?” you asked softly. “I’m just…some random girl. A stranger. Why would you do that for me?”
“Dunno,” he said honestly. “But something in my gut says it’s what you need and I trust my instincts. It’s okay, you can say no, but…I wouldn’t mind.”
You bit your bottom lip, battling with yourself. “You…wouldn’t?”
“No.” He smiled softly. “I’m the kind of guy that feels good when my girl feels good, so no, trust me, it’s not an imposition.”
He had a point. He would get to enjoy it too, even if you were not a supermodel. “Are you…sure?”
“Mm-hmm.”
You drew what little courage you had left. “Y-Yes, please, I’d…like that.”
That teasing look from earlier returned in full force. “Yes what?”
You blushed even harder. “Y-Yes, I’d like…an orgasm, please.”
He chuckled softly. “Goddamn, you’re cute.”
His hands locked onto your hips as he finished lining you up with his pelvis, leaving your legs up on his chest and shoulders. You gripped the edge of the cushion for strength, your eyes shutting again as he moved you to just the right position.
His hard clothed cock rubbed against your sex beneath the dress and panties, giving you the friction exactly where you’d needed it. He let out a slow and lustful exhale when your heat made contact with him, brushing the hem of your dress up so he could touch bare skin. You whimpered as he started to slowly thrust against you, pulling you down onto him with every purposeful stroke, making sure his lap scraped deliciously all over your hidden wet cunt. Somehow, he made it feel just as sexy and intimate as actual sex, finding angles that had you gasping for air as the pleasure seeped into your overheated body.
And that was before the bastard opened his evil mouth.
“Mm, good girl,” he breathed, gently biting the inside of your right knee. “That’s it, just relax and let Bucky take care of you.”
“No, don’t,” you whined pitifully, squeezing the cushions harder. “Oh God, please don’t talk dirty to me right now, please…”
That low chuckle vibrated through your legs. “Why not, doll? What’ll happen if I talk dirty to you right now, hmm?”
“Play fair,” you demanded half-heartedly.
“Nope,” he said cheerfully, lightly nipping that same spot on your knee as his pace quickened one thrust at a time. “I’m gonna play it dirty as hell ‘cause I want you to come, pretty girl.”
You shuddered harder. “God, please, Bucky, I won’t last if you do that…”
“Don’t last,” he whispered hungrily. “Mm, be greedy, baby. I want you to be greedy with me.”
“Bucky…”
“Come for me,” he urged as he went faster and faster, making you writhe as the pleasure climbed with his movements. “Mm, be my little bad girl and come. You’re so fuckin’ needy, my pretty little doll. Want you to come, come for Bucky, that’s it, good girl, don’t fight it, just come…”
You couldn’t help the high-pitched cry that escaped as you slammed a fist to the cushion and came that very instant. You drowned in heavenly bliss, hot and wild as the man still slowly pressing his hard cock against your slick heat. For a fleeting second, you didn’t care about decorum or the fact that you’d known the man a grand total of fifteen minutes. For that very instant, you belonged to no one but James Bucky Barnes and you were okay with it.
You keened as he painted your inner thighs with slow, intimate kisses to bring you down from the heavens, licking your lips as you tried to talk through the fog of euphoria. “Do they call you the White Wolf because you can blow my house down or what?”
He paused. Then he laughed his ass off, enough that you saw wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. “That’s not why, but that’s my favorite guess of all-time.”
Bucky squeezed your hips, purring as he nudged you with his. “Mm, I liked that. A lot. I like the way you look when you come. You look like you’d let me do just about anything to you right now.”
You blushed and covered your face in mortification of his honesty. “Dammit, Bucky…”
He chuckled and pulled your hands down without moving an inch, somehow perfectly comfortable still languishing between your damp thighs. “It’s the truth. Whatever fuckface left you obviously just couldn’t handle you. I could watch that pretty little face of yours come every night.”
“Bucky,” you whined even louder, so he finally relented, still chuckling in his throat. “Alright, I’m done bullying you now. Do you feel better, though? I gotta be sure.”
“Of course I do. I don’t even think I’ve had one that good by myself. You’re quite the talent.”
“Thank you.” He paused. “Thank you even more for not adding ‘for a stripper’ at the end.”
You frowned. “Seriously? Fuck anyone who would ever say that to you. They’re obviously a prejudiced prick that doesn’t deserve to see you even take off a sock.”
“On that we agree, doll.” Bucky then paused again. “It’s not gonna come out how I want it to, but I’m still gonna say it. I hate that I can’t kiss you right now.”
That made a dopey smile hit your lips. “Dammit. Are you always this sweet?”
“Not usually.” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “Guess you just bring that out in me, baby.”
You rolled your eyes. “Cheeky bastard.”
The intercom squawked and you heard the voice of Steve Rogers. “Heya, Buck. Wrap it up; we’re on for the closing number in five.”
“Copy that,” he called over his shoulder, then sighed. “Back to work.”
He regarded you seriously. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He smiled. “Taking a risk tonight. You didn’t have to, but…I’m glad you did.”
He gently brushed a lock of hair out of your eyes. “The guy that dumped you is a bum. You’re a stone cold fox and don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise or I’ll put you over my knee the next time I see you.”
You almost gave up the ghost. “Next…time?”
He smiled mysteriously as he lowered your legs to let you sit up. “If you want, that is.”
“Um…” You pulled the dress down over your thighs. “I…I think I would, but it might be a bit. I’m stuck busy at work for the next few weeks.”
“All good,” he said as he stood up, offering you his hand. You stood too and he didn’t let go, which made you flustered and flattered at the same time. It must have been compulsory with him; he touched you so easily, as if you’d known one another for years. You envied that level of comfortable within one’s own skin and hoped you’d feel that way someday.
He walked you to the door, but didn’t open it just yet. He turned to you instead and placed a hand on the door, leaning to your height as he played with the fingers of your other hand. “Now, you’d better not go home and talk yourself out of it. Don’t convince yourself that I did this out of pity or that I was faking it.”
He smiled. “You’re adorable and sweet and I wanted to give you that orgasm. Doesn’t have jackshit to with pity. I didn’t fake interest in you just to have something to do; I’ve got plenty of options. I want you to remember that the next time you feel bad about getting dumped, mmkay?”
You looked straight up at the ceiling and took a deep breath to steady yourself. “I swear, if you fuck up my eye liner, I’ll cut you, Barnes.”
He chuckled then. “Sorry. They tell me I’m way too honest. You’re a diamond, sweetheart. Own it. And then come see me again sometime, huh?”
You tried to stop your heart from yeeting itself right into his hands. You failed miserably. “I will. I promise. Thank you, Bucky.”
He kissed the back of your hand, and then he was gone, just like that.