You spent two hours tutoring Steve in the library until it was time for your morning class. For some inexplicable reason, it was like time flew by, and you didn't even realize it was time to leave before you noticed people filtering out of the library.

Steve had progressed tremendously even in the short span of two hours, and you had to give it to Professor Adler – he was right.

Steve wasn't an idiot, far from it actually, but you suspected he had a hard time prioritizing. You got the sense that his main concern was football, and you couldn't fault him for that, knowing that's the case for a lot of the guys at your school.

Steve is reading through a paragraph when you notice the time, making you gently whisper, "I think we need to wrap it up, class is starting soon."

His head lifts in surprise, his face turning towards you, "It is? What time is it?"

You inhale quietly when he turns to face you, those baby blues practically inches from your face as you sit next to him. Steve is beautiful in a different way than the usual jocks around here; he is clean-shaven, his features had an innocence to them while simultaneously being devastatingly manly and handsome.

It was hard to describe it, really, and it made you a bit enamored with him. You'd caught yourself watching him for the past two hours, subtly of course, to ensure he wouldn't notice. You'd had to hide your smile when you noticed the dent in his nose, disrupting the straight line of it, undoubtedly from a football injury.

You'd also caught yourself staring at his long lashes, fluttering and touching his cheek whenever he blinked. They were thick, too, such wasted potential on a guy who would never understand what a blessing they are.

You noticed the small beauty marks on his skin; littered across his face, down his neck, branding him in a delicate way. Part of you wanted to trace them, run your fingers over his skin to feel whether it would be as soft as it looked.

Even his blonde hair, unkempt and mussed up as it was, made you yearn to run your fingers through it. His expressive eyebrows, his high cheekbones, his sharp jawline; staring at Steve was undoubtedly more interesting than studying – he was like a work of art, so effortlessly gorgeous, you weren't even sure he realized.

Of course he does. A guy like that knows how hot he is. You can tell by the way his large biceps are visible even through the lumpy fabric of his hoodie, his thick thighs not well hidden by his sweats. He was built, tall, muscular; a handsome football player, of course he realizes how gorgeous he is.

You offer him a small smile, glancing toward the clock on your laptop, "It's 9.10. We have class at 9.30. And I need to get something to eat before, I think, or I don't know if I'll make it through."

Steve lets out a chuckle at your words, and the melodic sound warms your veins in a comforting way. He's got a great laugh, of course he would, that beautiful bastard.

"You have a point, getting through Professor Adler's class on an empty stomach is near impossible."

You nod, mirroring his chuckle, "Yeah, exactly. But we made great progress today, you'll be just fine for the test, Steve. You're all good." You smile as you get up from your seat to gather your things, and Steve watches you for a moment before he blurts out, "Oh, uh, I don't know, I think I need a little more tutoring, just-"

You shake your head as you chuckle, "No, really Steve, I think you'll be alright for the test. You know this stuff, you just need to be confident about it."

Steve frowns as he watches you pack your books in your bag, glancing down at the textbook in front of him. He hadn't even realized that two hours had passed, it was like being in a different world this entire time.

He's noticed you before, more times than he can count. Not just because you were the smartest girl in class, and constantly had your hand up, but also because you were strikingly beautiful, in an understated way that made him curious to know more about you.

He wasn't sure if you even realized how pretty you were, he had a suspicion you didn't, or that, even if you did, you simply didn't care.

“Oh, I’ll blow something,” Bucky laughs, reaching to tug at the collar of Steve’s dress shirt. “You fuckin’ seen Senator Rogers? Guy looks like he could bench press you.”

Steve bats Bucky’s hands away, and turns to survey his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window; nervously brushing at his suit. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? Fuckin’ knew I should’ve brought Wilson instead.” 

“Jesus, Steve, would you relax? This is a privilege, remember?” Bucky says, dripping sarcasm as he parrots their coach’s words from earlier. “You brought home the championship, and now you get to shake the Senator’s hand, can you believe?” 

“Oh my god, would you shut—”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes?” A woman with dark-rimmed glasses and a clipboard raps on the doorframe of the small waiting room, gesturing for them to follow her out into the hall. “The Senator is ready for you now. This way, please.” 

The way Bucky grins when Steve looks his way does absolutely nothing to quell Steve’s anxiety.

“Showtime…”

“You just sit there and look pretty for our guests. You think you can do that for me?” 

The Senator’s breath blows hot and damp across Bucky’s jaw, the drag of Steve’s teeth making him squirm in his chair. A small kiss to his chin is soothing but he wants one on his lips, huffs for it, fingers digging into the front of Steve’s suit jacket. 

“Yes, Daddy,” he replies, easy like a hot knife through butter. He gets a kiss on his cheek for his troubles, but he’s needy, wants a proper kiss, right on his lips. 

“You ever see these guys before? These college jocks?” Steve asks him with a grip of his chin, and Bucky shakes his head in response. 

“I think you’re in for a treat, sweetheart. How hospitable are you feelin’ tonight?” he asks and what...what does that mean? Bucky’s eyebrows knit together in confusion until Steve clarifies.

“Should I offer up my slutty intern to these boys? Give them my own little present for winning the National Championship?” 

Oh.

Bucky’s body clenches up immediately, neck going weak but the Senator holding his chin taut. This time he is given a kiss to his parted lips, one laced with the ghost of a smirk, one that drinks his whine right off of his mouth. It’s hypothetical, fantasy, an inquiry meant to make Bucky wiggle in his seat, but it makes Bucky achy. 

His Daddy offering him up to someone else? The chance to make the Senator proud? Bucky is more than okay with that.

He purses his lips into the chaste kisses Steve gives him, but now he’s hungry, now he wants more, asks for it with a pull on Steve’s suit. The Senator bats Bucky’s hands away as he stands. 

“Maybe Daddy’ll give you a little treat before you head home tonight if you’re good for me.” 

Bucky has no chance to respond to Steve’s offer, swallowing down yet another disgusting whine instead of letting the older man hear it. Steve turns towards the sharp knock at the door, Bucky standing on wobbly legs and following suit. 

“Gentlemen! I hear congrats are in order…” 

Bucky almost falls right back down into his chair.

“Senator Rogers, thank you so much for inviting us to meet with you.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. I’ve been watching you boys from the beginning of the season and now you’re here? C’mon, I had to congratulate you in person.” 

Bucky is almost certain he’s walked into a wet dream. Chiseled jawlines, summer sky eyes, muscle and strength as far as the eye can see— these athletes have most definitely starred in some of Bucky’s recurring fantasies. Bucky is so taken aback that he barely makes out the Senator’s words as the blond, first through the door, turns to Bucky. 

“This is one of my interns, James,” The Senator offers, and Bucky is nodding his head like he’s got a jar of marbles for a brain, reaching for the extended hand in front of him. The blond beefcake flashes Bucky a dazzling smile that has butterflies swooping down and all throughout Bucky’s belly and he introduces himself with a confident and kind, “Steve. It’s nice to meet you, James.” 

Bucky barely has time to give proper attention to how warm Steve’s hands are, that grip, before Steve is moving to the side and—

Bucky almost bends to pick his jaw up off the floor. 

“How’s it goin’?”

A second grip and handshake Bucky wants to hold tightly to, this time accompanied by a smirk that surely drops panties on the regular. There’s strength behind this handshake as well, an edge of cockiness that Bucky could grow addicted to. Dark hair pulled back, unassuming strength, the plushest mouth Bucky has ever set eyes on, and the axis of Bucky’s world has tilted. 

The Senator, Bucky’s own Daddy, momentarily slips from the forefront of his mind until the older man is guiding, offering up a, “Sit, sit, please,” as he gestures to the sitting area. The notepad that Bucky has been clutching against his chest almost needs to be adjusted to cover his crotch, but he’s afraid that if he moves it whatsoever, his hands will wander to the endless amounts of tightly-packed muscle spread out in front of him. 

He manages to find his seat in the chair next to the Senator’s, coffee table between their pair of chairs and the leather couch the two athletes seat themselves at. When he looks up and over at the man to his left, the man who just kissed him breathless before inviting these jocks into his office, the Senator is already looking over at him. 

Bucky wrings his hands when the state rep gives him a knowing look and a wink. 

“When I invited the Quarterback I wasn’t sure who you’d bring, but I should have known it would have been your right hand man. You two make quite the duo out there on the field, don’t you?”

Bucky has never really been a fan of sports. He goes to games, enjoys the atmosphere, but won’t seek it out on his own. He doesn’t understand but a handful of details about sports as a whole, and he feels himself begin to detach from the conversation playing out in front of him. All he knows are the things that have been mentioned in passing: these two men are on the football team that won the National Championship, one is the Quarterback, and they’re here on Capitol Hill in order to meet with the President, which they had done earlier that day. 

He’s sure he would have paid more attention to sports over the past few years if any of the athletes had looked like this. 

Steve looks like he could carry Bucky around on his hip with one arm, has the biceps to show it, the shoulder span no doubt proof of that as well. Bucky feels like he might begin to sweat under the collar of his shirt when his eyes lock with that plump bottom lip. 

He wants to sit on that bottom lip. 

He blushes furiously, knows his cheeks have to be opaque and obvious. Damn the Senator for planting the seed of fantasy in his brain with a kiss seconds before inviting these men into his office. How is Bucky supposed to have any thoughts that aren’t laced with sex? 

When he diverts his eyes away from Steve in hopes of reeling himself in, he’s met with a smirk on a mouth that might be more sinful than the Quarterback’s. First his lips, the suggestive smirk, then the eyes and Bucky has never felt so caught in his life. 

The dark-haired Wide Receiver is just as startlingly handsome as Steve is, within that sphere of beauty that has Bucky’s pants growing tighter by the second, yet somehow different. Steve almost looks like someone Bucky wants to rough up, a pretty face, eyes that Bucky wants to see messy with tears. He wants to rock himself in Steve’s lap and possibly make him beg. But this other guy? 

Bucky wants this hunk to shove him face-down into the mattress and make him squeal.

The added raise of an eyebrow has him suddenly and desperately thinking of a valid enough excuse to leave the room to get his shit in check. There is business to conduct, pleasantries to be had, and Bucky can’t sit here fantasizing about the plethora of ways he can manage to take both of the athletes on this couch. 

He’s so in his head he hasn’t realized the silence surrounding them all and...it isn’t a pleasant silence. What had Bucky missed? He glances over at the Senator and wishes he had more time to divert the conversation elsewhere, to see if that familiar sneer can be muffled by pointless small talk. 

But nothing could prepare Bucky for Senator Rogers to open his mouth and say, without reservation, “So, Steve, you play this good ‘cause he’s suckin’ your dick, or is he suckin’ it ‘cause you keep on winning shit?”

Steve’s distantly aware of Bucky barking a laugh that rings way too loud in the confines of the office, but he can’t compute anything beyond the words that have just left the Senator’s mouth. 

Only moments ago, they were talking about the rigors of training schedules and pre-season diets, and now suddenly the Senator is hitting Steve with the one question he’s been living in mortal fear of ever since he and Bucky started their...whatever it is they’re doing. 

Steve doesn’t even know whether it’s a genuine question or just a joke, and he’s sure it’s written all over his face that he has absolutely no fucking idea how he’s supposed to respond.

“What, um...what do you…” 

“Oh, come on, kid,” the Senator rocks back in his chair, smirking conspiratorially. “You don’t have to play dumb in here. You might have the rest of your team fooled, but you’re not gonna sit there and tell me it’s all just sportsmanship I’m seein’ between you two.” 

Steve can only stare, mouth agape and any words he might otherwise hope to speak immovably lodged in his throat. He looks over at Bucky, the pleading look of a drowning man, but Bucky’s fucking cackling; throwing his hands up with a resigned shrug.

“He ain’t wrong, pal,” he grins back at Steve. “My mouth is the real secret to your success.”

“Bucky, I really don’t think we shou—” 

“Hey, hey,” the Senator holds up his hands in a placating gesture, “don’t worry, it’s not gonna leave this room.” His gaze flicks over to the young intern seated next to him, and drifts slow down the length of his body, “...We all got our secrets.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the brazenness of the gesture. There’s nothing subtle about the way James shivers under the Senator’s attention; everything about their rapport screaming headline-in-the-making. 

Senator Rogers is doing fuck all to hide it, too, which is making Steve feel hot in ways that have nothing to do with the tight fit of his suit or the unseasonably warm weather.

“Scandal recognizes scandal, don’t it, Senator?” 

Steve’s head whips round at Bucky’s drawled remark. 

Bucky’s sitting there, completely unflinching in the cocky set of his smile, meeting the full force of the Senator’s surprised stare head-on, and Steve doesn’t know whether to apologize on Bucky’s behalf, or just stand up and show himself out.

He chances a look over at the intern, whose rose-flushed cheeks have bloomed a darker shade of crimson; his eyes carefully glued to the notepad clutched in his lap, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

It’s a painfully awkward moment. The entire room is silent save for the heavy, rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock inset into the bookcase, and Steve’s screaming internal monologue, which he’s only half certain no one else can hear at this point. 

“Senator Rogers, I…” 

He’s not sure what he plans to say, he just knows he needs to say something before the tension in the room reaches critical point.

But then, inexplicably, the Senator grins.

“It’s alright, Steve,” he sighs. His eyes don’t budge from their deadlock on Bucky, but they narrow a little as he regards him. “I had a mouth on me too, when I was young.”

Steve looks back and forth between the Senator and Bucky, noting the dusting of pink that’s crept onto Bucky’s cheeks. 

He also notes - with great interest - that Bucky is the one who breaks first, dropping his gaze to the coffee table situated between them.

“Mm, that’s what I thought,” the Senator hums. 

He tilts his head, smiling something calculating as he watches Bucky squirm in his seat. He doesn’t let up his stare, even as he speaks to address his intern.

“James, would you go and close the door, please?”

Bucky looks up at that, looks at Steve with a question in his eyes. But Steve is watching the intern, whose face has done something indecipherable at the request. 

“Of course, sir,” James responds immediately. He rises from his seat to head for the door, but he doesn’t make it two steps before Senator Rogers is stopping him with a hand gripped firmly on his arm. 

“Of course, who?” 

James’s breath catches audibly in his throat. He looks at the Senator; looks over at Steve and Bucky, and then back again, his eyes wide. 

Steve doesn’t know exactly what he’s expecting to happen next, what it is the intern said wrong in that exchange, or what the Senator is wanting from him. But he sure as hell isn’t expecting the next words that come out of James’s sinfully pink mouth. 

“...Of course, Daddy.”

Bucky’s whole body tenses at Steve’s side. “Holy shit,” he whispers, leaning in to get at Steve’s ear. “I’m gonna make you call me that.” 

“No you’re fuckin’ not.” 

There’s a part of Steve that’s saying he and Bucky should probably get up and leave right about now. But there’s another, louder part that wants to find out where the hell this is all going, and what the Senator could possibly have in mind that warrants a closed door. 

More to the point, Steve’s pretty damn certain that he wants to be a very active part of whatever Senator Rogers has in mind.

He watches James walk over and push the heavy oak door shut; the click of the latch resounding through the room. It feels like they’re about to be let in on something illicit, sitting there as the intern closes them all into the privacy of the Senator’s office together.

It becomes really fucking clear that that’s exactly what’s about to happen, when James turns to come back to his seat, and Senator Rogers raises a hand to halt him in his tracks; snapping his fingers, and pointing to the floor by his feet.

“Crawl,” he growls.

The intern sinks lithely to his knees with a soft whine; his gaze fixed glassy and wanting on the Senator, and the practiced ease of the movement isn’t lost on Steve. 

James moves like he’s done this a thousand times, shoulders and hips rolling slow as he shifts forward on hands and knees. The implication of it has Steve’s head spinning; has his cock twitching behind his zipper. 

He looks up to find the Senator staring right at him with a knowing smirk.

“He’s something, ain't he?” Senator Rogers cocks his head toward James, now kneeling at his feet. “Fuckin’ nightmare trying to find a good intern these days, I swear.”

“Yeah…I don’t think they cover submission in PoliSci,” Bucky scoffs, though Steve can hear the faint tinge of awe in his voice. 

The Senator must catch it too, because he pins Bucky with a look and slowly extends a hand down towards James, two fingers outstretched.

“Indeed not, Mr. Barnes,” he sighs as James takes his fingers into his mouth, “James is what we call a ‘natural talent.’”

If they were anywhere else, Steve would be screaming. He’d be smacking Bucky on the arm, and pointing wildly across the room, and asking if this entire fucking thing is some unhinged dream.

Because there is no way, no way, that the actual, real life Senator Rogers is sitting across from them, making direct eye contact as his fingers get a suck job from his intern...who is unashamedly making sex noises, and all but rocking his hips down into the floor as he works his mouth around his boss’s digits.

It’s a scene plucked straight out of a porno - one that Steve would save in his bookmarks bar, and create a desktop shortcut to, and have a link pasted into the notes section of his phone, just in case he somehow lost his other access to it. 

It’s all so deeply wrong, and Steve knows that objectively he should be feeling a whole lot of things about what he’s seeing right now...but it’s fucking hot. 

The Senator is hot, and the intern is fifty shades of Steve’s type, and Steve’s never had much of a poker face when it comes to seeing something he likes.

“Think you’ve got a fan, James,” the Senator rumbles. 

He slips his fingers free from between James’ spit-slick lips, hushing him when he whines and gripping him instead by the chin. 

“Lucky for you, Steve,” the Senator begins, “James here was just telling me before you boys came in that he’s feeling particularly generous today. Ain’t that right, sugar?” 

Steve’s pulse rate goes through the roof as the intern nods, flicking his tongue out over his lips.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be real hospitable, aren’t you?” The timbre of Senator Rogers’ voice dips dark as he leans in to speak right up against James’ lips. “Gonna treat our guests nice, make sure everyone’s taken care of…” 

James is nodding vehemently; huffing soft, breathy moans that are going straight to Steve’s dick. 

Bucky’s not faring much better; keyed-up energy coming off him in waves as he sits there with fingernails dug into his thighs and his breaths shuddering slightly on the exhale. 

Steve desperately wants to know what Bucky’s face is doing right now, but he couldn’t look away from this if he tried; his stare fixed on the flush creeping down beneath the intern’s collar as he hangs on the Senator’s every word.

“Give Daddy a kiss,” Senator Rogers commands. 

He sits back just enough to see that James has to work to reach him, but reach him he does; fighting past the Senator’s grip on his chin with a frustrated huff that only makes the older man laugh. 

When their lips meet, the Senator doesn’t so much kiss his intern, as he allows the intern the privilege of kissing him, and it’s clear that James knows where the power lies. He knows, and he’s weak for it; kissing Senator Rogers like he’s trying to prove a point. 

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s tucked a hand between his own thighs to press at the ache in his dick until the Senator pulls back, eyeing Steve pointedly and using his grip on the intern’s chin to turn his face toward Steve.

“Now look at that, I think the Quarterback’s feelin’ a little lonely over there...Go show him how well you keep a lap warm, James.”

Steve’s pulse turns erratic as he watches the intern slowly get to his feet and walk towards him. Senator Rogers is murmuring encouragement aimed at the both of them, telling Steve to relax and prompting James to ‘be a good host’, but Steve still feels like he’s been sprung doing something he shouldn’t when the intern looks at him from under his lashes, and sinks down to sit across his thighs.

“Goddamn,” Bucky breathes, shaking his head. “Tell him he’s pretty, Stevie, I wanna see if he blushes.” 

Steve swallows hard. James feels so slight in his lap, almost dainty in the way he’s perched, and Steve just about has to sit on his hands to stop them migrating to the guy’s waist just to see if they can span around his middle. He is pretty, even more so up close with his cupid’s bow lips and the little dip in his chin, and the vaguely glazed look in his eyes like getting passed around is all he’s ever wanted in life. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that the Senator is watching Steve’s every move with an inscrutable smile, and Steve has no clue where the limits are in this situation.

“He’s, uh...he’s…”

“Oh, your boy’s shy, huh?” the Senator grins at Bucky. “Get a little dumb with something sweet in his lap?” 

Bucky huffs a laugh, kicking a foot out to scuff at Steve’s. “With anything in his lap.”

“Mm, there’s something about these easy boys, ain’t there?” Senator Rogers sighs fondly with a tilt of his head. “How does he like to be kissed?” 

The intern tenses in Steve’s lap, gasping quiet to match Steve’s own. 

Bucky looks at Steve’s mouth as he answers, flippant like Steve’s not right fucking there. “Kissing’s not part of our deal, I only ever did it once. But if I remember right, he almost shot off from having that fat bottom lip sucked.”

Senator Rogers hums an approving sound. He settles back in his seat, turning his attention back to Steve and his lapful of vaguely trembling intern. 

“Go on then, James,” the Senator nods, uncrossing his legs and letting them splay open a little wider as he looks on. “Kiss the quarterback.”

don’t it make you feel so fine by blazeofglory

“I’m so fucking close,” Eddie breathes out, the slick sound of his hand, wet with lube and Steve’s come, so fucking loud. “Just—just flex or something, yeah?”

Steve laughs, sudden and loud, but he acquiesces, ridiculous as the request is, and he obligingly flexes his abs. Eddie moans, and it’s great for Steve’s ego, and then Eddie comes, splashing across Steve’s stomach and his chest, and Steve can’t help but reach for Eddie’s arms and tug him down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss.