#tech kink

The guy looks so fucking uncomfortable. Tony’s mouth can’t stop moving, trying to put him at ease. He rubs his palms together in a caricature of greed. “To be honest, I can’t wait to get my grubby hands on it, snowflake. You’ve been holding out on me.”

Bucky blinks. “Hardly.”

“I’m a tech guy, this is like porn to me—” He realizes his word choice a moment too late. If he could, he’d reach out and snatch the words right out of the air, but Bucky’s eyes are already doubling in size. Worse is the fact that despite the joking tone, Tony couldn’t be more serious; there’s nothing sexier to him than well-made tech. He holds up both hands. “Joking! I won’t accost you. Unless you ask me to—joking! Again—Jesus, I really can’t—wow, I’m on a goddamn roll tonight—how about we just get to it?”

Bucky nods stiffly, extending the arm. When Tony touches it at the shoulder, inches from where metal meets scar and then flesh, Bucky flinches. Tony works to gentle his touch, opening the panel that allows him access to the arm’s inner workings. Though he didn’t design it, he’s very familiar with Princess Shuri’s work. She’s a veritable genius herself, and it’s truly exquisitely made. Hydra had nothing on this.

He hears Bucky’s sharp inhale and glances up at the man’s face. It’s screwed in pain, eyes shut tight. Tony’s heart sinks. “I’ll be quick, okay? I already see the problem. Deep breaths, Buck.”

Bucky inhales audibly, nodding. Tony goes back to work, trying to be as gentle as possible without sacrificing speed. Reaching down, he takes the metal wrist in his hand and coaxes it to turn palm up to expose a different part of the arm. Bucky groans in his throat, head dropping forward until his chin touches his chest. Something about the sound nags at the back of Tony’s brain, the genius’s eyebrows furrowing.

Then he glances down and—oh.

There’s no mistaking an erection of that size, especially not in the soft sweatpants Bucky was wearing to workout in. Reflexively, Tony’s hand on Bucky’s wrist tightens in shock and the cock jumps beneath the fabric. This is turning Bucky on. Jesus Christ—Tony’s only half-formed arousal begins to wax.

Fuck. Focus. Focus. “I—I’m almost done, okay?”

Bucky nods, eyes still shut.

Tony lets go of the wrist gently and continues to reset the calibration settings, working hard to ignore the throbbing of his own cock. If Bucky opens his eyes, there won’t be any mistaking that Tony is hard either. Luckily, the ex-assassin seems far too distracted.

To continue, Tony has to coax the shoulder to turn, pressing ever-so-softly on the metal inner forearm. This time, Bucky’s head tilts up and then back, throat bobbing even as his mouth opens in a soft exhalation of ecstasy. Tony can’t help it. He can’t; his mouth runs away from him.

“Has no one touched you like this?” Tony asks lowly.

Bucky shakes his head.

Tony whistles. “How long has it been since you blew a load?”

Bucky groans, this time with embarrassment. The corners of his mouth flicker upwards though, like Tony’s baldness is amusing to him before it settles back into its typical line. “I can’t even remember.”

“Surely not since—before?”

“I mean—” Bucky pauses to swallow. “—there were physical reactions sometimes but that doesn’t really count.”

“That’s a damn crime,” Tony murmurs. He shuts the panel on Bucky’s arm, gently places his hand palm down in the other man’s open grasp. “All better, snowflake. Squeeze.”

Bucky squeezes as gently as if Tony were glass. The smile he gives Tony is small but genuine, and the fluttering Tony feels in his naval can’t be ignored. He should let go now, break the contact, but when he glances down at his palm where it rests in Bucky’s hand, he catches sight of the man’s erection still tenting at his sweatpants, and either Bucky is freeballing or he leaks like a fountain because the dark, damp spot of precum where his cockhead rests can’t be mistaken for anything else.

Tony licks his lips. He tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand and where he’s still gripping the arm just beneath the ball of the shoulder. Quietly, he says, “Stop me, if you want me to stop.”

The confusion in the pale eyes melts away when Tony drags one firm thumb down, crossing the crease of Bucky’s elbow, pressing against the inner forearm where the skin would be tender and sensitive. The reaction is instantaneous: Bucky sucks in a breath through his teeth and then his mouth drops, an aborted, raw sound slipping from his throat before he can stop it.

“Don’t stop,” Bucky whispers, eyes fluttering under their lids.

Tony wraps his entire hand around the metal forearm. He’s aware that he’s small for a man and that Bucky is bordering on large—obscenely muscular at least—but it still takes the breath from his lungs to see how he can’t come close to wrapping around the thick arm. He squeezes, hard but not looking to hurt. The sound that slips from Bucky’s mouth is obscene, the cock in his sweatpants jumping again, wet spot widening.

Not loosening his grip, Tony lets his hand move up towards the crease of the elbow and then back down toward the wrist. On someone else, it might be a motion of comfort, but all Tony can think of is how obscene it looks, how it’s too reminiscent of stroking a cock (the biggest fucking cock Tony’s ever seen, at that). Bucky’s chest heaves, hips jerking where he’s sitting on the stool causing the legs of it to shriek against the floor.

Bucky’s flesh hand reaches down, and for a moment the man’s cock is no longer shrouded in the mystery of cotton-polyester blend, not when he wraps a hand around himself through the fabric and the thickness of him becomes evident, the shaft clear, one thumb coming up to rub at the wet spot where the head rests.

“Don’t,” Tony whispers. Bucky’s hand freezes, cool eyes flittering open to assess him dazedly. Squeezing the arm gently, Tony says, “I want to see if you can cum just from this.”

The man honest to God whines. The sound goes right to Tony’s gut, right to his own cock that throbs, balls tight with arousal. This is without a doubt one of the most fascinating and sensual experiences of his life, and he wants to commit every detail of it to memory, wants to commit to the moment—

“I can,” Bucky says, breaths coming fast through his nose when he stops to collect himself. His hand leaves his erection though, making a fist and planting itself on his thigh. “Trust me, I can. I—I’m close.”

“Go ahead then,” Tony says. He coaxes the metal arm up, turning it so that he can place a wet kiss to the wrist. “I want to see it.”

Bucky groans, eyes squeezing shut. “Tony, please, God—”

“I’m not stopping you,” Tony says, letting his lips brush against the metal. He presses a more chaste kiss to the palm. Then he drags his mouth up, up—and takes Bucky’s first two metal fingers into his mouth, sucking firmly at the cool metal.

Bucky cums with a shout, head snapping back like a dog ready to howl. His face is twisted with the most painful ecstasy, and his cock jerks twice before he grabs himself again, jerking himself through the orgasm that soaks his sweatpants. When the pads of his fingers scrape against Tony’s teeth on the way out, he gasps again, a breathy, higher sound that has Tony half-mad with lust.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Tony murmurs, holding the metal hand reverently in his own. “Fuck, that was incredible. The hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”