#howdoyousleep

As uncomfortable as Bucky has been since they arrived half an hour ago, Steve’s presence in this room has made him feel less anxious. It’s obvious Steve is important to these people with the way they duck their heads in greeting, with the bubble of space they show Steve. 

The closeness and affection Steve has been pouring over him helps ease Bucky’s anxieties as well, which is something he’d normally be more reserved about, especially when they’re surrounded by people on all sides. 

Bucky suspects it’s because they’re surrounded by his kind. 

He isn’t sure how many humans are amongst the crowd. 

As Bucky takes his time looking throughout the group of people, in each corner of the room, the last of his anxieties twist into something regrettably familiar. 

“You’re sure I’m not…underdressed?” he mumbles into Steve’s neck knowing he will easily be able to hear his concern over the noise of the crowd. He isn’t sure if it’s because they’re amongst the unliving, with their ethereal grace and otherworldly beauty, but surely not all of these people are in fact vampires. 

Living or not though, everyone looks wildly glamorous. Clothes or not, something Bucky was not ready for even if he was given a heads up, everyone looks wildly glamorous. So much so, they’re all almost difficult to look at.

Bucky glances down at his dark jeans, maroon sweater, and worn boots with a critical eye. 

He then looks over at Steve’s dress pants and polo, his sparkling dress shoes that Bucky is certain cost at least three digits, maybe four. 

“You didn’t believe me the first three times I answered this question?” Steve murmurs into his ear, squeezing Bucky’s thigh possessively and reassuringly. Bucky doesn’t bother looking up at Steve; his blush already begins to grow without his chiding eyes and he’s sure Steve can sense it.

“I told you,” Steve begins again, tone gentle and pace unrushed. “You're the most gorgeous, most naturally flawless person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Steve.” 

“Sweetheart.” 

“I’m almost certain you’ve been alive for centuries.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth curls up as he feels Steve’s hand land on the nape of his neck, cool to the touch and grounding. 

“Therefore the flattery should outweigh your feeling of inadequacy.” 

When Steve pulls at the curls at Bucky’s nape, a silent demand to see his eyes, Bucky moves easily. 

His heart kicks up into his throat when he’s met with the expression on Steve’s face, dark and so obviously wanting. The thrill he feels from being under such an intense gaze is not misinterpreted for fear on Steve’s part, especially not when he can smell Bucky’s arousal on him. 

As if it weren’t obvious in his eyes. 

It’s as if the crowd around them momentarily melts away, the overwhelming noise of the room, the flashing lights diminishing as well. And then it’s just them, the two of them sharing a connection Steve has told him is without equal. This is how it always is, how it’s been from the moment they locked eyes for the first time across the bar, this bond that Bucky feels deep, deep in his soul. 

It makes him equal parts emotional and hard. 

Steve’s eyes glitter like the night sky in this lighting, and Bucky swears the wine he’s been given makes him feel as if he’s falling into them. 

You know you’re the only one for me, he hears Steve tell him, feels the stroke of unsaid words along the skin of his neck. 

He bites back the thick swell of emotion in his throat by swallowing, but not by averting his eyes. Never averting his eyes. Steve squeezes at his nape again, a long pull of his thick fingers at Bucky’s skin. He knows for a fact Steve draws it out so he can feel Bucky’s pulse underneath his fingertips. 

Bucky’s emotions suddenly shift directions and he thinks he might start panting. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention and anything, anything else, would keep his attention on Steve. But such a sight rocks Bucky to his core, the shock of it making him go rigid. 

Someone’s being fed on. 

A woman is being so openly and so willingly fed on, here in front of everyone, almost casually amongst this crowd.

Bucky thought the various people fucking in darkened corners was enough to stun him, but this…this is different.

Steve senses the change in Bucky’s demeanor immediately, his head turning to see where his eyes are locked onto. When he looks back at Bucky and Bucky glances up to meet his look, his eyes are impossibly darker. 

“I’m surprised they’re just now starting,” is all Steve says, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a luxurious sip of his scotch. 

But Bucky can’t look away. He’s enthralled. 

A woman lays sprawled across a man’s lap, her back pressed against the man’s thighs, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Bucky can’t see the man’s face from where he’s bent over her lax form, but he can see this man’s bite, his teeth, sunk into her neck. 

Her eyes are barely open, rolled back into her skull, her mouth dropped open as well. Bucky swears he can hear her noise of pleasure from here, deep and drawn-out. 

When he sees the man’s hand move underneath her latex skirt, when he sees his fingers pump between her legs as he drinks from her, Bucky forces himself to look away and give them privacy. 

He’s never seen anything more erotic in his life, he think. 

He realizes quite quickly that he’s never seen anyone be fed on by a vampire. 

Including himself. 

Is that what he looks like when Steve feeds on him? 

Bucky is nearly jealous of the woman for experiencing such an abundance of pleasure. But that thought then immediately forces Bucky to think about the pleasure he goes through when Steve sinks his teeth into his skin, when he feeds from Bucky, when he– 

“If you get any more aroused from watching them enjoy themselves,” Steve suddenly purrs into his ear, lips brushing against the shell of it as he speaks. “We’re going to have to join them and make our own display.”

Bucky can barely acknowledge Steve’s threat, eyes skirting back to said display. 

The man’s mouth is on the woman’s breasts now, having pulled the ample pair out of her low-cut shirt to feed on instead. 

His hand still moves between her legs. 

A few people have gathered to unabashedly watch. 

“Is…is that what I look like?” is all Bucky can think to say as he feels himself get harder and harder in his jeans. 

“No,” Steve is quick to answer, fingers curling around the opposite side of Bucky’s jaw to pull his gaze upwards at him. “You look much, much more erotic.” 

Bucky doesn’t believe him, can’t, even being on the receiving end of such a sincere and heated gaze. There’s no way he looks sexier than that woman does. He looks better than her?

Steve gives Bucky an answer as if he can hear inside of his head. 

“Why do you think I have to fuck you every time I bite you?” 

This time when Bucky swallows, a whimper slips past his lips. 

Steve catches it on his own. 

“It is unbearable sometimes, how completely debauched you look when your blood hits my tongue. How utterly mindless for pleasure you become. Your eyes glaze over, I always have to hold you down somehow because you writhe for it. Your cheeks grow flush, your prick leaks like a faucet. You always beg me to fill you up, to break your hole, even from the tiniest bite.”

Bucky’s face goes up in flames, the crotch of his pants filling out.

“That’s why we are the way we are now, because you pleaded for it so hard the first time I bit you. You whined and begged Daddy for more.” 

He’s right. The night Steve disclosed what he was to Bucky in hopes that he’d be afraid and run away was also the night he bit Bucky for the first time. In the doorway of Bucky’s apartment, Steve growling so deeply into his bite Bucky felt it in his toes, Bucky all but screamed out for his new Daddy. 

He barely remembered doing it, but he wasn’t at all upset at the outcome. 

Bucky feels the weight of submission settle onto his shoulders, the arousal he feels swirling and mixing with it in his head as well. 

His next few blinks are slow as he looks down at Steve’s mouth, not bothering to glance back up at his eyes.  

His Daddy’s lips are on his the next second. Cool to the touch but molten as they work and move together fluidly, Steve works his mouth against Bucky’s like he owns it, like he wants everyone to see that he owns Bucky. Coaxing Bucky’s mouth further and further open, moving to take a long suck at Bucky’s tongue before allowing for Bucky to follow suit, their sighs sounding more like gluttonous moans.

By the time Steve pulls his lips back by half an inch to allow for Bucky to catch his breath, his mind is made up. 

“Bite me,” he husks into Steve’s mouth, the older man immediately smirking and breaking their contact to look back across the room. 

When he doesn’t answer, Bucky moves to suck on the bearded hinge of his jaw. 

“Just a little. Gimme a little bite, Daddy. I’ve been so good, so brave.” 

As discreetly as one can while amongst the throngs of partygoers, he reaches for the obscene bulge between Steve’s legs, presses his hand over it. 

Steve barely reacts. 

Bucky finds it blindingly hot. 

“And you had to ask if you were hotter than that,” Steve chides in a gravelly tone, pointing back across the room. “Look at you– you’re wet for just the thought of it, my love.” 

Bucky barely bothers to glance back across the room, but is still shocked to find the vampire fucking the woman he had drank from on all fours across the couch she is bent over, their knees on the floor. She barely moves as he fucks into her brutally, her body nearly limp, but Bucky can hear her noises now, can hear how loud and ragged they are. 

Noises that indicate just how much she’s enjoying the treatment she’s being given. 

Bucky squeezes at Steve’s cock through his dress pants, eagerly turning back to him. 

“Do it. Please,” is all he can think to whine, voice breathy and needy. Steve pins him with another intense and serious gaze, fingers curling into his scalp once more. 

Bucky feels like prey. 

What a familiar and fond feeling it’s become. 

“It’s going to be more intense for you. You’ve been drinking and your mind is already there. You’ll likely drop.” 

Bucky suddenly wants to drop. 

“Daddy…” 

“I’ll take care of you– you know I do,” he promises Bucky, voice so hushed Bucky wonders if he’s imagined it. 

“You want people to see? You want them to see what we do to each other?” 

Bucky moans. 

“Let people see,” he murmurs against Steve’s mouth, blood turning molten, dick aching in his pants. “I trust you.”  

He swears Steve growls. 

His face is in the crook of Bucky’s neck the next second. Bucky grabs onto whatever part of Steve he can manage to, fingers slipping under his shirt to his muscled back. He goes limp the moment Steve presses his canines into his neck, a warning, just like he’s been taught. 

“You’re so goddamn perfect,” is all Steve says before he’s latching onto the tender skin of Bucky’s neck and pressing– 

Bucky feels blinding and familiar pleasure shoot through his limbs. 

And then everything goes black. 

When Bucky comes to, he’s in Steve’s lap. 

His thighs are spread around Steve’s waist, his bare torso pressed tightly against Steve’s own clothed one, his face tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck. 

His shirt is off. Did he take it off? 

When did he take his shirt off? 

People surround him on all sides from where they sit on this couch, so close he can almost feel them on his skin, the heat of them, their presence. He senses the music reverberate throughout his body before he hears it, it almost sounding as if he’s underwater. 

Steve feels so good against his body, against his skin. He moans, open-mouthed, and presses in impossibly tighter.

Steve’s cool hands skim up his sensitive back, stopping to curl his fingers around the nape of his neck. 

He can feel Steve talking, the vibration of his voice moving against Bucky’s bare chest, but once again it’s hard for him to discern words. He feels drowsy as he pulls his head back just enough to place his lips at Steve’s ear. 

He bites at it. 

Steve’s grip on his nape goes tight. 

“Daddy,” is all he moans, his head swirling with an onslaught of sensations and sounds and feelings. 

He feels Steve’s lips at his own ear. 

“Darling. Your skin is impossibly warm. How are you feeling?” 

Bucky doesn’t answer; Steve would know if something was wrong. Instead he sucks on the hinge of Steve’s jaw and pumps his hips against– 

“Ohh…” 

He can feel Steve’s smirk grow on the skin of his cheek. 

“My my…look at you,” Steve purrs, one of his big hands skirting down to cup Bucky’s ass. “Well, others sure are taking the opportunity to get an eyeful of you, aren’t they?” 

Are they? 

Bucky lets Steve’s words process long enough for him to decide he doesn’t give a shit. 

Let people see him like this. 

It’s all for Daddy anyway. 

Daddy. 

He must say it out loud because Steve is rumbling in an instant, pulling Bucky against him by the handful of ass he has in his palm. And Bucky begins to move like water against his much larger, much cooler form, like the push and pull of waves, as if he were fucking himself in Steve’s lap. 

Tears form in his eyes, he’s so overcome with his sudden and all-consuming need to do just that. 

He barely manages to slide down to his knees, mouth already watering, moving as if he’s wading through molasses. His fingers find their way to Steve’s slacks, the zipper of them, curling around the impressive bulge they find there. When he feels Steve’s cock against the palm of his hand, he drops forward with a moan, mouth falling open as he sucks on the fabric of Steve’s dress pants, on his cock through them. 

Steve doesn’t stop him, doesn’t pull him up off what is surely a dirty floor beneath him. He doesn’t reach for Bucky in the slightest, doesn’t move from where his back is pressed against the back of the couch, thighs spread wide. Bucky’s own dick leaks just looking up at him. The confidence and power Steve exudes is heady, keeps the fog swirling around the inside of his head. 

That’s his Daddy. 

This is his cock. 

Steve allowing Bucky the privilege to suck him off in front of onlookers, the immense trust burning between them, forces a guttural groan from Bucky’s mouth. 

He turns and digs his teeth into the meat of Steve’s thigh. 

Steve doesn’t even blink. 

He reaches for Bucky’s chin. 

“Don’t make me come,” is all Bucky hears, voice intimate for the two of them alone. “Because where does that go, huh? Where does my cum always go?” 

Bucky’s eyes fight to roll back into his head. He leans forward for the purpose of finding something to rub his dick against, his chin still in Steve’s grip. 

“My pussy,” is what Bucky slurs, his dick finding contact with Steve’s shin. “Your cum goes…in my pussy.” 

When Steve’s thumb finds its way between Bucky’s lip, he bites down onto it. 

Hard. 

Steve smiles. 

“That’s right. You have at it, sweetheart. Get your fix.” 

What’s left of the room, the party, the crowd that reaches past the fog in Bucky’s brain dissipates in full the moment Steve’s cock is on his tongue. 

Bucky moans around his mouthful once he has Steve out of his pants, eyes nearly crossing with appreciation of the girth of his Daddy’s cock. The way it fills Bucky’s mouth to the brim, the way he could gag around it if he took a deep breath with it in his mouth, makes him whimper appreciatively around it. Daddy likes it wet, this Bucky’s been taught over time, so when he pulls his mouth off of Steve’s cock with a lewd noise, he purses his lips and spits on it. 

He thinks he hears someone to his left gasp. 

But he only sees Steve, leaned back into the couch, eyes darker than sin and intense, zeroed in on Bucky between his legs. 

Cupping Steve’s impressive sac, knowing Daddy also thoroughly enjoys feeling the warmth of Bucky’s hands on his balls, Bucky slides his mouth back over the tip of Steve’s cock. He slides Steve to the back of his throat, swallowing around him before pulling back and pressing forward once more. Slowly, he lets the slip of Steve along his tongue, in and out of his mouth, hypnotize him. 

And after a few minutes, he’s so lost in fucking Steve’s cock with his mouth, he barely notices Steve reaching for the hand he isn’t using to hold onto his Daddy. 

When he feels Steve’s mouth at his wrist, the sudden prick of his teeth, his moan is garbled and wet around his mouthful. 

He feels Steve moan raggedly against his skin. 

And then everything goes blissfully black for the second time. 

When Bucky comes to once more, he is able to notice two things right away, the first being their change in location. 

The second change being Steve is now inside of him. 

This corner is much more secluded, pulled away from the party and darker, the flashing lights unable to reach back this far. They’re still on a couch, but this time they’re alone. Bucky isn’t surprised by this; Steve likes to show Bucky off but there comes a point where he doesn’t want others to see just how far their connection goes. 

He’s grateful for the privacy, but he’s more aroused by Steve’s possessive antics. 

He groans into Steve’s neck, clenching his hole down around the girth he was just appreciating in his mouth. His head isn’t necessarily spinning, but he doesn’t feel entirely present. It’s a very specific feeling that only belongs to when Steve drinks from him and it’s one that Bucky yearns to feel most days. 

He can barely lift his head, use his arms against Steve’s chest to push himself back. 

Steve must have taken more this time. 

It’s then the dots connect for Bucky and he realizes his pants have come off too now. 

Right. Steve is inside of him. 

Steve is inside of him. 

This time when he moans, he can feel the noise grate against the front of his throat. He digs his own teeth into Steve’s neck when he feels Steve’s big, cold hands run up the sensitive skin of his back, strong sweeps of a touch. 

He clenches his hole around Steve again, milking his Daddy and appreciating his dominance and strength and care. He’s wet down there, this Bucky can feel, and the thought of Steve taking care of Bucky in such a way while he had dropped adds an alarming amount of eroticism to this already heady moment. 

No one else is more fit to be his Daddy than Steve. 

No one will ever come close to Steve. 

Don’t. 

He digs the fingers of both hands into the skin of Steve’s throat, cupping it harshly, his arms pressed between their chests. He rocks his hips forward, tests the feel of Steve’s cock inside of him, whines appreciatively when he’s met with only unadulterated pleasure. 

“There’s my boy,” Steve bites out into his ear, hands grabbing and squeezing as they make their way back down to Bucky’s ass, sweeping up and down his back and shoulders. “There he is.” 

“Daddy,” Bucky tries, but even the one word sounds garbled, slurred. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, seems to quite like the reaction given how harsh his grip becomes on Bucky’s ass. When his fingers reach for Bucky’s rim, when they rub at his stretched hole all wet around Steve’s cock, it spurs Bucky’s mess of movements on. 

He arches his back further, allowing for them both to feel the strain of his pussy around Daddy’s cock, trying his best to begin bouncing on it. 

“You’re a goddamn marvel. You know that?” Steve whispers into his ear, pressing the words into his skin as he uses his handfuls of Bucky’s ass to guide him, to encourage his shallow bouncing. “You know how many people I had to fight off to not follow us back here? How much security was needed to help find us a dark corner I could fuck you in? Huh?” 

Bucky mewls, whimpering as he quickly finds it more and more difficult to bounce on his Daddy’s cock, what little energy he has left nearly drained in full. 

When Steve smacks at his ass, a noise that can no doubt be heard over the outrageously loud music, Bucky whines again. 

And when Steve easily scoots them back, maneuvers them to a more horizontal position on the couch, Bucky’s whines turn into moans. He knows what this means. 

He nods his head, his brain feeling like a bundle of loose marbles as he begs for cock. 

“Yes, Daddy please, please. I can’t…please, Daddy. Give it to me, Daddy…” 

Steve has no problem holding Bucky’s limp body up enough to fuck into him from below, has no problem holding him up enough to use him as a toy. Bucky merely lays there against the slope of Steve’s chest as Daddy begins to fuck up into him, useless and willing. He doesn’t fight his eyes when they begin to roll back into his head. 

“They were fucking fighting one another to get a look at you full of cock, to see your Daddy stuff your pussy full after you spent a drop with your mouth full of it.” 

Bucky’s moans sound more and more ragged, more pathetic, the more Daddy uses his pussy. His dick is trapped between their bodies, Bucky’s naked one and Steve’s still clothed one, and he Bucky thinks he’ll come embarrassingly fast if it continues to receive the friction it currently is. 

“One would think this party is for you, that all of these people have gathered here to watch the show you put on with awe. So many people want you, Bucky. So many people want to fuck your little body, want to mark you up, want you for themselves.” 

Bucky shakes his head, eyes filling with tears. He’s surprised by them, by the sudden emotion he’s feeling, but he isn’t sure if it’s the way his Daddy is making his body feel or if it’s from his words. 

It’s surely both. 

“Daddy…” 

“That’s exactly right,” Steve growls, digging his cock into Bucky’s sweet spot masterfully, spreading his ass cheeks as if people were in fact watching. “Tell them. Tell them this is all for me, that no one else can have you. Tell them this is all for your Daddy.” 

Bucky squeals, digging his teeth into the skin of Steve’s collarbone, sucking on it messily and Steve splits him open. 

“No one,” he mumbles. “No one else can have me. I’m…m’yours. I’m Daddy’s.” 

Those words make the emotion he feels swell in his chest. 

His breath hitches in his throat. 

Oh no. 

He can’t stop himself. 

“I’ll always be yours, Daddy. Always. F-forever.” 

Steve’s bucking hips rub Bucky’s dick just right between their bodies, just right against his dress shirt. His balls suddenly draw up tight, painfully tight, against his body, Steve’s cock brushing against his sweet spot once more. 

He doesn’t give Steve a warning, but he doesn’t have to. 

Steve knows. 

He drops Bucky back down onto his lap in full just in time for his orgasm to rocket through him, for it to shatter his resolve and his weak body, stretching his hole out to the point of the bite of pain Bucky craves. He clings to Steve as he sobs and shakes against him, clings to him as he comes apart all around him, all over him. The pleasure this climax pulls from him is otherworldly, is mind numbing. He thrashes against it, as if it’s almost too much, but Steve is there to hold him down, to make him take it. 

Quite literally. 

“Milk it out of me,” he groans wildly into Bucky’s neck. “Start milking it out of me, sweetheart. You know what that does to me, you know what you vowing yourself does to me. Goddamnit, you know what that does to me.” 

He does. The two of them rarely profess their love for one another so deeply and to the point where they mourn the lives they’re living, both together and separately. They rarely discuss the fact that Bucky continues to age, day after day, while Steve has remained the same age for decades, centuries. They don’t talk about how the pressure of keeping time on his body keeps Bucky awake at night as he tries again and again to figure out how to ask Steve to let him stay with his Daddy  forever. 

What they have now is bliss, is magic, is meaningful. 

But Bucky wants forever. 

He wants forever. 

His body listens to his Daddy, does as he asks like always, but he doesn’t help Steve to his climax without tears. 

He tells himself it’s maybe the wine, definitely the plethora of bites he’s received tonight, but there’s no use; he knows exactly why he’s sobbing into Steve’s neck. 

It must be the amount of blood Steve’s drank coupled with the scotch and maybe the headiness of the evening that have him digging his teeth into Bucky’s neck as he rides his orgasm out. No fangs, not the sharpness Buckuy craves, but it’s enough to shock him. He’s never been bitten by Steve this hard. 

When he goes to pull away, Steve growls into his skin and holds him in place by a hand on his nape. 

Bucky openly weeps, growing dizzy. 

“I know what you want,” Steve tells him, husks out into his ear when he’s finally pulled back, voice heavy with emotion. “I know what you want from me, what you’re too afraid to ask for. And I swear to you, Bucky, I swear to you I’ll give it to you one day.” 

Bucky can only sob out one word, the throb in his neck pulsing– 

“Daddy…” 

“We both want it, we do. Not once have I come across someone in my life who I wanted to join me on this side, in this world. You are the one I’ve waited for. You are the one who’s brought purpose into my wretched life. You are the one for me and I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have you, Bucky Barnes. I want to be selfish with you. You are mine and you will remain so forever.” 

Oh. 

Oh yes. 

Relief Bucky has never felt lifts from his shoulders, his mind, his being. The noises he lets out are mournful almost. Mournful for the time he’s spent worrying about the outcome of their relationship, the purpose of it, of one day losing Steve. It was for nothing. 

It was all for blessedly nothing.

When Steve pulls at his nape, pulls his head up in order to lick into his mouth, he yields to Steve willingly, easily. 

“If you think I’m turning you in this grungy warehouse with even a single onlooker, you’re mad.” 

Bucky laughs wetly into where his mouth lands on Steve’s bearded cheek, tears continuing to fall. 

“Take me home then. Take me home, Daddy,” he barely manages to murmur out. 

He swears Steve purrs.