#cockslut steve

like, i’m picturing steve being in his mid-20s. not a virgin. v not a virgin. and he’s been planning to just take the throne this entire time but recently somebody -- ahem, Lord Pierce, bc it’s so easy to hate him -- has made major fusses about how the monarch cannot be “lonely” or “without companionship” and yannow steve’s wanting to point out that he has plenty of companionship, thank you, but well there is that young alpha prince from that neighboring country that just looks delicious

bucky is early 20s. he’s the youngest of his siblings, not in line for the throne. or maybe his family are nobles, he’s not even direct royalty. either way, he’s v happy about that, bc he’s not a v responsible person and he likes wasting time endlessly fencing or some shit. leave him alone, george, he’s enjoying himself, c’mon. he visits steve’s country for some diplomatic reason and steve sets his eyes on him and, just, lightbulb

“i marry that cute alpha, i get to be the monarch, everybody’s happy and i get to fall asleep on the almost certainly mouthwatering dick that’s tucked inside those tights bc” dayum bucky’s not doing much to hide the goods.

and poor bucky. he thinks he’s in for a long, boring ass trip to suck up to some rich monarch who has way too much land than is really necessary. then all of a sudden, the crown prince is looking him up and down and biting his lip and fluttering his lashes and oh shit, he’s making eye contact during meals and bucky’s now regretting the fashions of the time period bc it’s v difficult to hide a boner in tights.

and steve is just delighted. bucky gets flustered so easily. steve loves attention and praise and he loves it when people think he’s pretty, bc he is, dammit, and he just knows that young bucky barnes will make a v nice trophy husband while he gets to kick Lord Pierce off the council

and then they go and fall in love. and bucky does, um, have ample goods to trade. which steve might’ve fallen in love with regardless, bc, yannow, he’s a slut. 

James turned his head away from the fire roaring in its hearth to stare at the figure in his bed. Pale limbs stuck out from beneath his black satin sheets, a mop of blonde hair turned golden in the firelight. He saw the subtle rise and fall of that thin body, heard the soft breaths of his sleeping companion.

If he pulled the sheets back, he’d see his come dripping out from between those small, cute little ass cheeks. He’d see his marks littering that lithe body. Bruises in the shape of his mouth, his fingers, but also the twin red pinpricks that documented his tasting of the blood held beneath such creamy, smooth skin.

Just the thought had his cock thickening again.

God, but what was he doing? If any of his coven saw him now, they’d think he’d lost his sanity, and he wouldn’t be able to blame them. They didn’t do this. It wasn’t their way.

Feeding from humans was much like sex. As long as all parties consented, continued to consent through the whole ordeal, and no one was harmed, it was generally-speaking a nonissue. The venom from their fangs gave their human donors pleasure, sometimes to the point of orgasm, and so it was often a mutual exchange. Food for pleasure, pleasure for food. The two often melding and mixing until it ended up with impromptu hookups. That’s why clubs were favored hunting grounds among his kind.

And that was where it ended, where it always ended. A few mouthfuls of blood, an orgasm in a back alley, a bathroom, a storeroom--wherever--and the parting of ways. It never continued. It certainly never continued into a vampire’s lair.

But then James thought of meeting his pretty little human. The club they’d been in hadn’t required them to find a back alley or a bathroom. It was the kind of establishment that had rooms for what they wanted. He remembered taking the boy into one of them, shutting the door and cutting off the thumping bass from the dance floor two floors below them. The way the boy had immediately sunk to his knees as soon as they were alone. Big blue eyes staring up at him as thin fingers molded to the generous tent at the front of James’ pants, a gorgeous blush blooming on pale cheeks as the boy had all but begged to suck him.

The first time James had come, it had been with a mouth around his cock and his teeth biting into a pale, thin wrist, blood blooming on his tongue only seconds before he finished. The wet spot on the front of the boy’s tight jeans told a story that had another shiver of pleasure running down his spine, another drop of cum forming at the tip of his plump head. A drop that was quickly, greedily licked away, almost sweetly, by the boy at his feet.

“Did you touch yourself?” He’d asked, brushing fingers through that blonde hair.

“No, sir,” the boy had answered, making no move to rise from his knees.

James should’ve known then that the boy would be trouble. Coming untouched from a cock in his mouth and a bite to the wrist, his sweet demeanor, the unreserved way he’d called James sir.

The second time he’d come, the boy was in his lap, letting James feed from his neck as he touched James’ cock almost shyly, those hesitant touches making him harder than the most expert handjob ever would. The boy’s orgasm had come from James’ own hand just minutes later.

It was after that second one, as they breathlessly kissed, that James had impulsively murmured, “Come home with me.”

He’d known then that he wanted more. And he’d had more, and more, and more. Every time, the boy was sweet almost to the point of innocence, and every time, he begged shamelessly, greedily, for James’ cock. Begged to taste and touch, begged to be fucked, and when he was given his heart’s desire, he offered himself up to be bitten. An offer that James had never, not even once, turned down.

He wasn’t sure how someone could be so innocent and so cockhungry at the same time, but this boy was, and it was a heady combination. An aphrodisiac. 

James should be done by now. Should wake the boy and tell him to leave. But instead, he sat in a chair by the fire, naked, his cock half-hard with thoughts of the boy in his bed, and wondered how long he should let the little minx sleep before he woke him for another round.

As if he could sense James’ rising desire, the boy began to stir. He rolled onto his back, stretching and moaning as he slowly roused from sleep. When he realized he was alone, his eyes darted about the room almost frantically until they settled on James. The boy relaxed again as soon as their eyes met, a shy little smile curving his lips.

Those pretty blue eyes traveled down the length of James naked body, stopping only when they found his exposed cock, long and fat and only growing fatter under such sweet scrutiny.

James watched, just as captivated by the boy as the boy was by his cock, as a cute little tent appeared in the sheets above his lap. The boy’s cock was delicate and small, barely a handful, and James had played with it mercilessly as the boy had sucked him again just a few hours ago, before his plaything had fallen asleep.

“If you come,” he’d said, “I’ll make you stop sucking.”

It had been all the incentive the greedy little thing had needed to hold off his orgasm instead of giving into it, to let James play with that cute little cock as much as he desired. By the time he’d finally given in, allowed the boy to come, he’d been sobbing around James’ length, tears on his cheeks and his little cock sensitive to even the slightest touch.

It had been perfect, and seeing that little tent now, James wanted to do it again.

James was fully hard now, his cock huge and heavy between his legs. He spread his thighs a little wider, allowing the boy a full, unobstructed view of it. The move garnered the reaction that he thought it would. His pretty little thing shuddered, eyelashes fluttering, his features already slackening with pleasure, hazy eyes full of hunger.

“I’m hard again, boy,” James said, in a certain, domineering tone that he’d noticed his minx enjoyed.

A trembling breath left those pretty pink lips.

“Sir?” His boy asked, his voice light and sweet, submissive in a way that made James’ blood run hotter.

James took himself in hand, stroking his length slowly under the boy’s avid gaze. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought a wet spot might be growing at the peak of that little tent. He vowed then to taste it, to not let his boy come until James’ mouth was on him.

“Come here,” James ordered, in that same domineering tone.

The boy didn’t hesitate. He slipped easily from beneath the sheets, exposing his lithe body to James’ greedy gaze. That little cock, cute and pink, strained shamelessly from his body, not big or heavy enough to hang full between his legs, the way James’ did.

With quick, light steps, the boy was between his spread thighs, sinking down onto his knees, his eyes still glued to the object of his desire. He licked his lips again, gaze darting from James’ cock to his face and then back again, unable to help himself.

“Sir,” the boy said again, breathless and wanting. “Please?”

James smiled. 

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, still slowly stroking himself.

As he expected, another of those pretty blushes lit up his face. This boy hungered, but was shy about expressing it. It took a long moment, one where the conflict warred clearly on that pretty face, but just like James knew he would, the boy obeyed. 

“I want to suck you,” he breathed out, those hungry eyes still trained on his cock. “I want--I want it in my mouth, sir. Please?”

It was James’ turn to shudder, such sweet entreaty hardening him almost to the point of pain, his balls aching and heavy. He cupped the back of the boy’s head with his free hand, guiding it toward his cock as he held it steady.

“Open those pretty lips, then,” he murmured, gratified when he was immediately obeyed.

He pushed gently past soft, plump lips, his cockhead greeted eagerly by a wet tongue. Almost immediately, the boy began to suckle, moaning softly as if this--a hard, fat cock in his mouth--were his own personal brand of nirvana. 

James didn’t need to ask to know that it was. He’d seen the proof of it, again and again. In pursuit of a meal, he’d found himself a little cockslut, starving and neglected. A cockslut that had since gorged himself even more than James had, indulging in gluttony and would most likely continue to do so as long as he was allowed.

“That’s it, now,” he murmured, petting the boy indulgently. “Show me how hungry you are, baby boy, how much you want it. Suck it like a good little boy and maybe I’ll let you taste my come.”

The look of glassy-eyed worship he received in response told him how his words had affected the boy. He liked this, his little cockslut. Liked to be put on his knees, liked to be called a little boy and ordered about.

James liked it, too, perhaps a little too much.

Afterwards, when his cock was spent and his come painted those pretty lips, the boy utterly blissed out between his legs despite the fact that his little cock was still hard and neglected--after, the boy laid his head on James’ thigh, whining softly as he mouthed at the head of James’ cock, licking at it sweetly like a boy with his favorite treat, slim fingers idly fondling his balls. James ran fingers through his hair, still petting him, his chest warm with affection despite the fact that he barely knew the boy at all, didn’t know a thing about him beyond his sexual desires.

He would learn, though, he realized.

As he watched, the boy--no, Steve, he remembered, the boy had breathed his name into James’ mouth at that first kiss. James hadn’t used it, because he never did during such encounters, but he knew it. And from now on, he would use it. He would use it, and he would learn, because the thought of this ending, of inviting Steve into his lair and then inviting him to leave, never to be seen again, was absurd. Steve was here now, utterly at home in his lair, and here he would stay.

As he watched, Steve took the head of his cock back between his lips, suckling on it so tenderly, so sweetly, that the warmth in James’ chest grew. He hadn’t thought it possible, but if it were possible for someone to embody innocence while sucking on a cock, this boy did it perfectly. 

“You’re mine now, I think,” he murmured to Steve, running his finger down a soft, smooth cheek. 

His boy only suckled, blinking hazily up at him. He thought he saw an entreaty in those blue eyes, a bone-deep plea, as Steve slowly took more of him into his mouth. James had begun to harden, impossibly, again, unable to do anything else when his cock was given such sweet attention.

“Yes,” he said, allowing a smile to grace his lips, still stroking Steve’s cheek. Watching in rapt fascination as his pretty boy did nothing but indulge. “You’re mine, and I’m going to keep you.”

Steve only sighed dreamily, his eyes slipping closed as he began to suck in earnest, the soft, wet sounds of his ministrations filling the room. 

This is actually a thought that I am currently obsessed with as I write a porn commission fill and I don’t think I’m gonna be able to fit it into the fic itself so allow me to blab about it here to make up for that.

I have many thoughts about it

Mostly, they involve Steve on his knees or laid out on a bed, Bucky hovering over him, big hands holding him still as he rubs his fat cock all over his boy’s face. Steve’s red all over, slack-jawed and euphoric, his pleasure tinged with just a little embarrassment or shame at how much he needs this

Omega!Steve would live for being scent-marked like that. The only thing he likes better if when he’s scent-marked by his Daddy coming all over him and then rubbing it into his skin, smearing his release against Steve’s neck and his wrists–the most common places to be scented.

I bet Bucky wakes to it every morning. A sweet boy between his legs, whimpering plaintively for him to wake up and play. Nuzzling at the base of his hard cock, moaning at the scent. Working himself up so much that he’s rubbing his entire face against Bucky’s erection. Sweet little kitten licks along his length in between that desperate nuzzling. 

His baby boy isn’t allowed to suckle until he has permission, but he wants it so badly, Bucky can hear it in every little sound he makes. So fucking hungry and needy. 

Even better if Steve is still mostly asleep, just aware enough to wriggle underneath the covers and settle between Bucky’s legs, hide away in a world where he’s warm and safe and surrounded by that perfect, masculine scent that makes him feel like such a needy little boy. He feels so small nestled between thick, muscular thighs, meaty cock right in his face, the scent of arousal thickening underneath the covers the longer he stays there.

Bucky doesn’t even open his eyes, just reaches down underneath the covers where his baby boy is hiding, guiding that seeking mouth to his cock.

“Don’t tease, baby boy,” he grounds out, still mostly asleep himself, his voice deep and gravely in a way that makes Steve’s groin throb, his little cock wetting the insides of his thighs with how good that voice makes him feel. “You got it hard, now be a good little boy and suck it.”

Steve coming awake fully with a big cock in his mouth, a heavy hand in his hair pushing down firmly, making sure he keeps it there–keeps being a good little boy. Every once in a while, because he knows his baby boy needs it, Bucky will ease the pressure of his hand and let Steve pull off, let him whimper and whine as he rubs his face all over Bucky’s spit-slick cock, riling himself up.

Bucky lets him do it until his baby boy can’t be still anymore, until his whole body is wriggling beneath the covers, rubbing his excited little cock against the sheets, almost crying with how much he needs.

Only then does Bucky tighten his fingers in his boy’s hair again, ordering, “Suck it like a good little boy,” to get him back on task. As soon as Steve’s mouth is full, he settles down again, moaning as he eagerly obeys the order he’s been given.

Depending on how long they have, Bucky might draw it out, keep them both on edge, or it might be quick and dirty. But either way, when he comes, it isn’t in his boy’s eager mouth, but all over his face, because when his baby is like this, it’s what he needs.

Steve isn’t allowed to come, probably, his only reward the release painting his skin. And only after the last drops have been milked from his cock and smeared on his boy’s skin does Bucky finally peel back the covers. Steve’s head is pillowed on his thigh, the tip of Bucky’s cock so close to his lips that Bucky can feel each gust of breath on his heated, sensitive skin. His boy is limp and blissed out, looking utterly pleasure drunk and satisfied, despite the excited little cock that Bucky can see between his legs, so very red and wet and hard, eager for any sort of attention.

Petting his hair gently, he asks, “What do good little boys say, baby?”

Steve shudders, blinking slowly up at him, his blue eyes filled with absolute fucking worship.

“Thank you, Master,” he whispers obediently, but the truth of those three little words is evident in his reverent tone.

Bucky reaches down and pulls him up, cradling Steve against his side as fingers slide through the mess on his boy’s cheek.

“You’re welcome, baby boy,” he responds, and then rewards his boy by smearing his come along Steve’s parted lips allowing him to lick and suck. If anything, the look of worship and bliss in his eyes only intensifies.

Bucky alternates between feeding Steve his come and gathering it up to rub it over different spots on his boy’s body. His collarbone, his arms, his chest, and belly. And then he gathers up some on his fingertips and reaches down to rub it firmly against his boy’s cock.

Steve gasps raggedly, his legs closing automatically against the rough treatment. Bucky pauses, his other hand sliding around Steve’s neck, holding him just under his chin and tilting his head up.

“Open your legs,” he commands softly, right against Steve’s mouth. 

His tone is the kind that speaks to the deepest parts of Steve’s psyche, one that knows it will be obeyed just as surely as Steve’s entire being knows that he has to obey it; he can’t help but obey it, his body moving into action before the words have even penetrated his hazy mind.

As soon as his legs have fallen open, a hard smack lands against his sensitive sac. Steve cries out helplessly, even as his hard little cock is given the same treatment.

That big hand cups his balls and squeezes as Bucky asks lowly, “Do you hide from me, baby boy?”

Steve shakes his head as much as he can with that other hand still holding firmly to his chin.

“No, sir,” he whispers.

“No,” Bucky agrees. “I want to play with you, baby. I want to play with your pretty little cock until I’m hard again, and then I’m going to fuck your tight little hole. I’ll allow you to come when my cock is in you, sweet boy, but if you try and hide my toy again, you won’t be allowed to come at all, you hear me? I’ll keep you hard and on edge all fuckin’ day. Make your little cock so sore, baby boy, you’ll be cryin’. And I might not even let you come after that, might make you satisfy me while I torture this pretty little cock, and then send you to bed with it still hard. Do you understand?”

Steve nods. “Yes, Master,” he whispers obediently.

“Good.” Bucky bites at his jaw. “Then keep your legs open like a good little boy and let me play.”

poor sugarbaby steve getting sick! steve’s immune system is not the greatest, we know that. always when it starts to get cold out in the autumn, bucky starts stocking up on immune health supplements and making steve take some every day, bc he knows the poor boy will catch cold at the drop of a hat. but without fail, steve starts to sniffle sometime towards the middle of october.

the sniffles usually hit after he goes through heat for the season, so steve always complains that bucky shouldn’t take time off time to take care of steve when he’s sick, bc bucky will have just done that for his heat, but of course, bucky doesn’t listen. 

bucky takes at least a week off whenever steve’s sick. steve hates chicken noodle soup, so bucky brings home Matzo ball soup and stuff like that; there’s a soup that my Armenian grandma made and my dad makes that we call Monta soup but that’s not the proper name, it’s ground beef and small shells in broth and it’s great with yogurt (or madzoon if we’ve made it) and a lil bit of mint and it’s amazing on the throat and really soothing for the stomach, so i like to think bucky gets that for steve as well. bucky also all kinds of good quality teas and some really really good honey, like high quality stuff from a beekeeper that knows what they’re doing and that you can taste the flowers the bees visited in. basically all kinds of handmade foods and things, anything and everything to help steve feel better.

when steve’s sick, it’s full misery. his head’s stuffy, his nose is constantly leaking, his sinuses are so congested he can feel it in his eyes, the poor thing. bucky keeps him in soft, comfy clothes, things that are cool if his fever gets high and keeps lots of blankets around so he can bundle steve up in a little sick burrito if he gets cold. a nice soft pair of shorts and a tank top and some really thick fuzzy socks that go up above his knees and keep riding down so bucky has to fix them for him. 

when he’s really sick, steve doesn’t have the energy to play and bucky’s too focused on helping him get better anyway, but if it’s not so bad, if it’s just a little cold, bucky makes a game out of it so steve has something to focus on other than his misery (bc we all know how awful congestion is). similar to how they play with chastity, steve doesn’t do a thing for himself, bucky does everything for him. bucky dresses him, bucky showers him, bucky carries steve everywhere and everything he eats, bucky feeds him by hand. soups are a little difficult to do that way, but they manage. steve doesn’t move, he doesn’t lift a finger. he’s properly bucky’s pet; bucky will keep steve in his lap the whole time and when he’s feeling up to it, steve will squirm around in bucky’s lap until bucky puts a hand between his legs. 

“is my poor boy feeling hot?” he’ll murmur in steve’s ear, “do you need something, sweet thing?” steve will just whine, bc his throat hurts and he doesn’t have to talk unless bucky just isn’t getting what he’s whining about. bucky will cuddle him closer and kiss along his ear to his cheek and ask “what is it you need, baby boy? what’s hurting?” steve just whines and rocks his ass back against bucky’s dick and bucky chuckles. “i think i understand what you need, baby. is it your little dick? is that what’s making you feel hot?” 

steve will nod, starting to breathe louder, and bucky will cradle him close, sweep one hand down his front and the other up his thigh, until both converge between his legs. “is it here?” bucky will ask softly, his voice right in steve’s ear like steve loves. “does my poor little boy need to be touched?” steve will nod and whisper out, hoarse and barely audible, “yes, sir.” “poor thing,” bucky will murmur, “sick little boys need to rest so they can get better, isn’t that right? but you still need your sir’s touch, don’t you?” another nod from steve; he’s leaning his head back against bucky’s shoulder, his throat bared to him. bucky kisses his neck and slips a hand into steve’s shorts. “i’ll give my sweet little boy what he needs,” he’ll say, “always give my sweet boy whatever he wants.” 

just like that, cradled in his lap, bucky will get steve off slow and sweet, talking in his ear the whole time. that’s how they do it every time they play when steve’s sick. sometimes bucky will fuck him, mostly he’ll just take his cock out and let steve feel it while he jacks him off, and after, he’ll let steve stay in his lap and he’ll jerk off himself and then feed his cum to steve when he’s done, bc he’s nice like that.

once upon a time, Bucky was called in to “work” on an unscheduled day bc somebody fucked up. not only was it unscheduled, not only did someone fuck up bad enough that the boss had to be called in, it was on a day that Bucky had planned to lock Steve in chastity and use him as a fuck doll all day.

denied this excellent day of play, Steve is determined to be the brattiest of brats all fucking day. he’s pissed. he’s furious. he actually might be more angry about having to come clean up the mess than Bucky is. he doesn’t even do anything, he just sits on Bucky’s desk and glares at everyone.

no one knows for sure how John Henry was introduced, but at some point during the day in between offing rats and weasels, an up and coming, strapping young lad made his way into the boss’s office. he had important information that Natasha herself figured Bucky should hear straight from the horse’s mouth. they have to wait outside for like, fifteen minutes, but Bucky finally calls them in and John Henry struts in like he owns the place. this foolish boy does not notice Steve getting up from underneath the desk or the way he’s wiping his mouth or the fact that uh the room smells hella like Alpha-just-came, he’s focused on delivering his message and one other secret task.

you see, he has his eye on becoming the next most dangerous bottom in New York. he’s young, he’s pretty, he has a nice ass, he thinks that he can woo James Barnes. he marches up to Bucky’s desk, is told to sit, and sits on the edge of it.

bucky becomes the Blinking Man. see, that’s Steve’s move. Steve is the only person allowed to sit on Bucky’s dest, not even Natasha anymore. Natasha hides a smirk and Steve just looks at this rando sitting on Bucky’s desk. just looks at him. utter disbelief. like, did that bitch just sit? in my spot? exquese me?

John henry immediately starts spouting his information but two seconds in, Steve interrupts him with “uh, move.” nothing else, just flat monotone, “move.” John Henry, he blinks, then he laughs and says “uh, no.” flat monotone no. he just laughs it off, brazenly giving bucky this look of “who does this guy think he he is?”

Bucky looks between Steve and Young John Henry and sits back to watch the inevitable cat fight unfold, knowing full well that after steve wins, he’s likely to get his dick sucked again. Natasha, knowing the importance of receipts, starts subtly recording.

steve walks around to stand in front of young John Henry, he looks him up and down, he’s got this bewildered look in his eye like he found a beetle in his Chipotle or something and he is not, i repeat, NOT in the mood to have upstart pretty boys try to sit on his sugar daddy’s desk like they get to suck bucky’s dick on the regs. no. just. no. 

Steve waves his fingers. “get your flat ass off his desk,” he snaps. “now, bitch!” John Henry, he’s now genuinely offended bc nobody calls his ass flat but he also thinks maybe if he can out-talk Barnes’s current main squeeze maybe he can work his own squeeze in there. so he just looks right back at Steve and he says “No.”

Bucky considers stepping in. But then, Stevie’s got it handled pretty well. he just leans back in his chair to enjoy the show.

Steve blinks rapidly at John Henry. he makes this face, he looks at John and blinks super fast with this expression of “are you fucking shitting me right now?” mixed with the sort of detached disgust that you feel when, running on 8 shots of espresso and 2 hours of sleep, you see a wad of chewing gum stuck to a bus/subway set.

no? just me? ok nvm.

steve glares at Johnny Bravo now. “Get,” he starts firmly, “your flat fucking ass off his desk.” “What’s the big deal?” John Henry retorts. “He said take a seat, I took a seat! what’s your problem, bitch?”

at this point, Steve’s had enough. nope. he’s done. bc his sugar daddy’s pretty paranoid and rightfully so, Steve never leaves the apartment without a gun and a decent knife. Steve is being challenged by a twink Alpha and he’s not in the mood to play who’s the bigger Bottom Bitch, bc obviously, he is, he’s leagues ahead of Johnny Henry Bravo what’s-his-face.

so Steve, yeah, he pulls the fucking knife. he doesn’t even say anything, he pulls the knife, grabs John Henry by the shirt, and puts the knife to his throat, all in like, two moves. John Henry was not expecting this. he gulps and you can see it going around the blade.

“i said,” Steve starts quietly, “get off.”

“are you guys just gonna let this crazy Omega get away with this?” John henry demands of Natasha and Bucky. “the fuck is wrong with him!”

“I didn’t have time to give him my knot before we left this morning,” bucky says calmly. “you heard him. get down.”

Johnny Bravo gulps again and Steve just yanks him off. John Henry stumbles back, Steve puts his knife away, and then he hops onto Bucky’s desk, swings his legs up, and just fucking lays down over the whole damn desk (which is conveniently and suspiciously clear of clutter in all the right spots for Steve to lie down), lying down so his shirt rides up and shows his stomach and more than one bright hickey as well as his diamond navel piercing. Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s stomach and slides it up his shirt, resting it over his sternum.

“I suggest you talk fast,” Bucky tells John Henry with a wry smile. “My boy needs my attention more than you do.”

John just word-vomits what he had to say. he’s not okay with what just happened. natasha escorts him out and winks at Bucky as she leaves, waving her phone. Bucky rolls his eyes and looks down at Steve, smoothing his hand over Steve’s stomach.

“I’m sorry you had to suffer that,” he apologizes. “I didn’t expect the kid to flirt.” “Hmph,” Steve just retorts. “I see him anywhere near you again, I’m drawing blood.” Bucky smiles and bends down to kiss Steve’s stomach. “I’d be happy to let you,” he promises.

Maybe Bucky didn’t realize Steve was awake. He felt Steve move, but he just thought that Steve was shifting in his sleep. He isn’t pay much attention at this point, too focused on whoever’s irritating him so early in the morning.

But then there’s a clever tongue licking slowly at his cock and a body settling between his legs. He feels Steve’s sigh against his skin. His boy, in the morning, is always slow, leisurely.

Steve kisses and licks, turns to rub his cheek against his Master’s cock. Sweet, sleepy little noises sounding his throat. He’s nestled under the covers, cocooned in a world of warmth and his Master’s scent, his taste.

Bucky forgets what he was trying to say. Slowly, he peels back the covers to reveal the boy between his legs. 

Steve doesn’t even spare him a glance, but he does grumble plaintively. His lips wrap around the head of his Master’s cock and as he begins to suckle, that little grumble turns into a moan. He relaxes. His eyes stay closed, completely immersing himself in his Master’s taste.

Bucky sinks fingers into Steve’s sleep-mussed hair, petting him at the same slow, leisurely pace that his cock is sucked. His head falls back against the headboard, eyes closing briefly.

There’s nothing quite like having an eager boy between his legs, hungry for the taste of his cock.

“Boss?” The person on the other end of the phone says.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Bucky says, because he absolutely does not want anything distracting him from his boy’s eager suckling.

He hangs up and tosses the phone aside, uncaring of where it lands. He opens his eyes and looks back down at Steve.

For several long minutes, all he does it pet Steve’s hair and watch his boy enjoy himself, watch as Steve takes what he wants.

He caresses Steve’s cheek. 

“Couldn’t wait, baby?” He asks finally, keeping his voice soft and low to match the mood.

Steve blinks hazily, opening his eyes for the first time. He’s caught somewhere between the fog of sleep and the haze of pleasure, not fully aware. All he knows is the hunger that is only sated when he sucks on his Master and the throbbing pleasure that fills him when he does.

He whimpers.

Bucky smiles at him gently, continues to caress his cheek.

“Such a beautiful boy,” he murmurs. Steve starts to tremble. “Have I spoiled you, sweet boy? Hm? You think as soon as you open your eyes that you need my cock in that sweet little mouth?”

Steve’s entire body burns. He suckles a little harder on his Master, his need only growing with his Master’s words. He feels as if he’s spiraling out of control and the only thing keeping him afloat is the cock in his mouth. 

It’s amazing, the way his Master makes him feel.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” his Master tells him gently. “You look so pretty suckin’ on me, it’d be a shame to take it away from you. Be a good boy now and answer me.”

Steve shudders. He continues to suckle, but he empties his mouth a little more and a little more, until he pulls off completely.

“Yes, Master,” he whispers. 

His lips brush the tip of his Master’s cock with each word and when they’re out, he licks hungrily at it, but doesn’t take it back in his mouth. He waits obediently.

His Master smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks. “Is that what you are now? A spoiled boy?”

Steve blushes, squirming between his legs. “Yes, Master,” he says again.

It feels so good, being called that. Spoiled.

His Master says it with such pride that Steve feels a corresponding burst of pride in his chest.

“You have it back now, baby,” his Master says, guiding Steve’s mouth back onto his cock. Steve moans as he starts to suck again. “That’s it – that’s my spoiled boy.”

Steve blinks up at him with wide-eyed hunger, need. His Master whispers, “you’re a good boy. Go on now, enjoy yourself. Show me what you crave.”

Moaning, Steve’s eyes flutter shut again. He loses himself in the pleasure of a full mouth, in the bliss of servicing his Master this way.