#3dwd

Bucky can smell him. That overwhelming and intoxicating smell of masculinity, of ruggedness. Cinnamon, sandalwood, citrus; it drives Bucky insane that he can’t pinpoint what the notes are. Steve has claimed he doesn’t wear a cologne. Bucky calls bullshit. 

Nobody smells that good, naturally and without any help. 

Nobody. 

The smell of Steve in his office building, on his floor, nearby, immediately puts him on edge. He wills his knees to keep him upright even when his body and mind want to cave immediately. There’s no way Steve is here. Bucky must be imagining it, his subconsciousness conjuring up the smell in his mind in order to distract him, in order to force Bucky to think of Steve when he’s convinced himself he doesn’t want to. 

No, he won’t be distracted by a crush, by a one-night-stand. 

He reaches for his keys, opens his office door with ease— 

And nearly falls to the floor. 

Steve is here. In his office, standing at his office window seemingly admiring the view of the city just outside it. 

What is Steve doing here? More importantly, how did he get into Bucky’s office? 

When Steve turns to look at him, expression riddled with proud mischievousness, Bucky immediately takes pause. He can’t let Steve think he has the upper hand even though he’s surprised Bucky at his place of work. He can’t let Steve’s sweet talking ways and his rugged sex appeal chip away at Bucky’s self-control and boundaries. 

This is unacceptable. 

But Christ, Steve looks good. 

He looks better than good— he looks sexy as hell. 

His beard is neatly trimmed, his hair infuriatingly windswept. He looks as if he’s come off the farm after a long day's work: well-worn jeans, a navy blue henley that clings to the bulk in his arms, a pair of reliable boots. A leather bomber jacket with a sherpa collar is tossed carelessly across one of the chairs opposite of Bucky’s desk. The ensemble’s sticker price would send Bucky reeling into a coma, but one would never know it. 

He’s certain Steve doesn’t even know how much his clothes cost and that’s because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have to care. And the thought of Steve not caring about price tags is enough to ratchet up the arousal Bucky is trying uselessly to ignore. 

Stay strong. 

“Hey, Bunny…” 

Fuck. 

Bucky’s willpower clings to its existence. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, steps into his office, and closes the door behind him. He ignores Steve’s pet name for him even though it digs under his skin in the hottest of ways. Nobody has ever given him a pet name. Bucky doesn’t do pet names, is too strong-willed and confident for them. No partner has ever babied him or given him sweet names or worshipped the ground he walks on. 

Steve did it from the moment they locked eyes. 

Bucky sends out feelers for his willpower, questions if it even exists when it comes to Steve. 

“What are you doing here?” is all Bucky can damn near choke out. He steels his spine and walks to his desk, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. 

When he chances a glance up and over at Steve, he nearly whimpers. Fuck, he’s so sexy, Bucky can barely stand to look at him. 

Steve shrugs. 

“I was in the area, thought I’d stop by.” 

A lie, one that Bucky can call him out on. 

“No you weren’t. There’s nothing around here that would interest you.” 

Steve chuckles and the noise goes right to Bucky’s groin. 

“You interest me,” he says matter of factly, pushing away from the window. “Thought I made that pretty clear, Buck.” 

Bucky swallows audibly, makes a show of turning his computer on. 

Yeah, pretty fucking clear. The older man has all but professed his love for Bucky, sent him endless gift deliveries, whispered his affection and awe into Bucky’s skin, laid himself bare and—

Stop. 

No sex, don’t think about sex with Steve, god. 

“How’d you get in here?” Bucky presses, ignoring the hot press of Steve’s presence against the line of his back.

He can sense Steve’s easy grin even if he doesn’t chance another look up at him. 

“I sweet talked my way in. I’m pretty good at sweet talkin’. Ain’t that right, Bun?” 

He doesn’t think Steve understands the power of his sweet talking ways, even as he jokes about it. 

Bucky thinks he’s sweating, can feel the drops of it pooling in the curve of his lower back, can feel it on his upper lip. It’s embarrassing. He can command a boardroom, lead a design team, walk confidently through rooms, homes, exhibits he himself has designed. He’s confident, overly so, is bossy and demanding and overbearing. 

And here he is crumbling under the mere words of Steve Rogers, a man ten years his senior who has been relentlessly chasing after him ever since their first date. 

This is what Bucky gets for sleeping with Steve on their first date. But fuck, who could blame him? 

Bucky feels as if he’s going into heat. 

When Bucky turns to admittedly flee from his office and demand security come take Steve from it, he runs right into the familiar wall of packed muscle. The older man doesn’t even hesitate; he grabs onto Bucky confidently and purposefully. 

“It’s easy to get what I want, Buck. I’m a man who’s used to getting what he wants,” Steve murmurs, a mitt for a hand cupping the back of Bucky’s head, the second pulling Bucky snugly against his front by his lower back. 

When their bodies meet, sex is all Bucky can think about. 

“That’s why I’m so frustrated with how difficult it’s been to get the thing I want most,” Steve tells him, his voice taking on a gravely edge that damn near sends Bucky under. “I appreciate a good chase, I love good back and forth. But goddamnit, Buck— what the fuck are you makin’ me wait around for?” 

Bucky feels the burn of shame in the form of a blush build on his neck.

The thing is, Bucky doesn’t have a good answer and he’s ironically afraid to admit that he’s scared. This isn’t traditional, this isn’t normal, what he shares with Steve. Their age difference is surely to be frowned upon, Steve’s position as a CEO will surely make it seem to others as if Bucky is just wanting into his pockets. 

More prevalent and more difficult to admit is that Bucky’s not used to Steve’s treatment of him. 

He doesn’t think he’s deserving of Steve’s treatment. He doesn’t know what to do with his attention and his affection and the way he wants to surround Bucky with an endless flow of devotion. 

Steve’s fingers tighten in his hair and Bucky all but moans, bringing his hands up to curl his fingers into the front of Steve’s shirt. He wants to curl his lips up in a snarl when his fingers find their way into the fuzz just underneath said shirt. 

“I won’t have you denying us something good because you want to be stubborn. I won’t have you stopping us from having each other because you’re afraid.”

Bucky does what he does best when he’s backed into a corner— push. 

“I don’t want you,” he weakly attempts, the words making his gut churn and his throat burn, his body rejecting them immediately. 

Steve smiles, crowds Bucky further against his desk. 

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Bunny,” he turns and whispers into Bucky’s ear, their bodies curling tightly together. Steve easily pulls Bucky into him, a hand on his nape and now an arm around his lower back, reminding Bucky what Steve does to his body. 

Just the presence of Steve, the press and bend of their bodies together, does something to Bucky that he’s never experienced with someone else. 

When Steve squeezes at his nape, pulling Bucky’s attention upwards, the older man’s exhale sounds like a groan. 

Bucky’s vision blurs when he feels Steve’s growing and impressive erection dig into his belly. 

“You’ll learn not to lie to your Daddy over time,” Steve tells him, breath hot on Bucky’s mouth. The title goes right to Bucky’s own growing erection, arousal shooting through his body hot like lightning, his mouth dropping open to let a whine easily slip out. 

“You may try to lie to me now, but your pretty little body can’t lie to me, oh no. Sweetheart, your body can’t lie to me. Just look at’chu…”

Bucky is finding it more and more difficult to remember why he’s spent weeks denying Steve another chance with him. Steve’s hands feel like magic on his body, like Bucky can drop the facade and feel. And once Bucky’s eyes lock with Steve’s ocean ones, they drive that point home even further— 

Let go. 

Unsurprisingly, Steve sees the internal waver. 

“There he is,” Steve coos, deliciously pursing his lips around Bucky’s bottom one. “There’s who I’ve been chasing.”

Steve presses another hot kiss to his mouth, Bucky’s knees buckling. 

“Who I’m done chasing.” 

Another long and hot kiss that Bucky helplessly moans into this time. 

“Who I want.”

Just when Steve dips his tongue into the next set of kisses he gives Bucky, he trails his lips down the column of Bucky’s neck, sucking his way down it. Bucky doesn’t even fight the way his eyes roll back into his head.

“Want is an understatement— I’m damn near obsessed. You may be afraid to show your true feelings or give into this, but I’m not, Bun. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. Everything I do in a day I wonder what it would be like to do it with you by my side. When I go to sleep, I want you there. When I wake up, I want you there.” 

“Steve…” 

“When I touch my cock, I want you there. Fuck, do I want you and your tight, little bunny ass there.” 

It’s as if he’s lost all sense of himself as Bucky hears those words. He curls his fingers around Steve’s thick neck at the same time he moves to wind his legs mindlessly around Steve’s stocky waist. He knows Steve will hold him, that Daddy won’t let him fall, and he’s proven right when Steve does just that with a heavy exhale. He gathers Bucky easily up into his hands, obviously appreciating the feel and weight of Bucky in them, before sitting him on top of his own desk. 

“Christ, I miss you, Buck,” he tells him in between kisses, hands holding onto either side of Bucky’s face. “Tell me you miss me too, baby.” 

Bucky’s moan grates against the front of his throat. 

“I miss you,” Bucky murmurs, reaching for Steve’s tongue with his own. “I miss you so much, Daddy.” 

Steve groans into Bucky’s mouth. 

“Fuck yeah, missed that. Missed the hell outta that. Lemme hear it again, Bun.”

Easily, eagerly.

“Daddy…” 

Bucky lets out every ounce of pent up want and need he’s been ignoring over the past weeks and pours it into that word. He digs his fingers into Steve’s shirt, yanking at it until his hands meet the warm skin of his stomach, pulling at the older man until Bucky’s hands slide easily around to his muscled back.

Steve’s skin is so shockingly warm it forces another moan out of Bucky’s throat.

As someone who runs cold, he misses that warmth. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” Steve mumbles between kisses before he’s smirking. “We’re gonna have so much fun together.” 

Bucky is more than ready to let Steve fuck him on his own desk, in his own office. The thrill of being chased by someone he’s so wildly attracted to combined with the surprise of him showing up at Bucky’s office to confess his feelings has Bucky feeling like a live wire. His dick is so hard his balls ache, Steve’s hands on his body coaxing noises of pleasure out of him that others are sure to hear. 

If they saw Steve walk in though, they shouldn’t be surprised by what’s happening in here. 

He turns his cheek and bites at Steve’s bearded jawline, reaching for the older man’s belt buckle, fingers digging into his zipper to feel the pushback against the metal. 

“You got a party tonight?” 

Bucky is too distracted by the feel of Steve’s thick cock beneath the denim of his jeans to register his question. 

It’s a bite on Bucky’s own chin that pulls him back into his brain. 

“What?”

“Don’t you have a Christmas party tonight?” 

“How…how do you know about that?” 

Steve’s teeth catch Bucky’s bottom lip between them. Bucky’s toes curl in his dress shoes. 

“Pepper told me about it.”

Of course she did. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8.” 

What? 

Bucky’s vision may be blurred, but he’s certain Steve is pulling away, suddenly widening the gap between them. His dick aches something fierce between his legs, yearning for Steve’s touch, Steve’s mouth, Steve. 

“What?” Bucky asks, unable to hide his breathlessness, running a hand down and over his mouth. 

Steve’s reached his jacket now and he turns to Bucky, slipping his arms into it. 

He barely looks affected by their office rendezvous at all. 

“I’ll pick you up at eight at your place. Make sure you pack a bag; you’re comin’ home with me tonight.”

Bucky resists the urge to collapse back onto his desk. 

“Are you…are you insane?” Bucky huffs, doing nothing to disguise his annoyance at being left in his office to deal with his own erection. He watches through half-lidded eyes as Steve walks back over to him, stepping between Bucky’s spread legs and reaching for his throat. 

“You thought I’d come in here, profess my love, and give you my cock?” 

Bucky’s neck goes lax at the word love, but he curls his lip anyway. 

“Yes?” 

Steve chuckles happily into his last set of smacking kisses before squeezing at the fingers around Bucky’s throat. 

Fuck. 

“Daddy’s got a lot to teach you.” 

He gives Bucky’s cheek a light smack. 

“You make sure and wear somethin’ pretty for me, you hear?”

Bucky doesn’t argue. His heart slams against his ribs. He hears Steve at the door of his office. 

“I’ll have what I want you to wear underneath it sent over.” 

Bucky not-so-slowly collapses backwards onto his desk, chest falling and rising rapidly, dick throbbing in time with it. 

“I’ll see you soon, Bun. Don’t ignore my calls.” 

And just as surprisingly as he showed up, Steve’s gone, leaving Bucky a damn near hyperventilating mess atop his once pristine desk. 

With too much to think about, Bucky focuses on settling his breathing, on easing the ache in his dick without the time or place to take care of himself. When the absurdity of the situation hits him, when the full force of his crush on Steve makes him kick his feet where he lies, Bucky giggles. 

And once he starts, he can’t stop.