[ Bucky flushes an even deeper shade of red, hearing Steve not only go along with it, but offer suggestions on how to do it. His fingers twitch, and suddenly his clothes feel too tight.
He lifts his gaze, looks at Steve somewhere in the vicinity of his left eyebrow. His mouth has gone strangely dry, and he's fighting the urge to put his hand on Steve's throat. Geez he's fucked up in the head. ]
Shi-- Steve, god, I feel like some sleaze for even thinking about this. For thinking about you and- and here I am, here you are... is this even something normal people do?
Probably not, [he admits with a wry twist to his mouth.] But I don't think either of us are really normal people.
[Steve slides off the chair, goes down onto his knees. The rope's still behind the chair, the handkerchief somewhere on the floor. Not that he really needs either of them.]
I- um. Just tell me what to do. Please. [He doesn't lift his head up to look at Bucky, but there's desperation in his voice.]
[ Bucky whines, his knees going weak at Steve's honest plea. His fingers find their way into Steve's short hair, curling against his scalp. Already, his dick is interested all over, aching and straining against his jeans.
He closes his eyes for a moment, maybe to pray and ask forgiveness, or-- he's not sure. This could be totally perverse, broken beyond repair, but fuck he wants this. And he wants it bad. Bucky licks his lip, and glances down at the rope. He takes a breath to steady himself. ]
P-- [ He clears his throat. ] Pick up the rope, Steve.
[A noise catches in Steve's throat at the fingers in his hair, and he wants to lean forward and rub his face against Bucky's thigh. He can already feel his mind sliding back to where it was, back where it's so easy to just listen to Bucky and do what he wants. It feels so good to just relax, to have someone else make all the choices for once in his life. All he has to do is what he's told.
He reaches out behind him, feels around on the floor till his fingers meet the rough texture of the rope and close around it. Drags it over the floor and holds it up in front of him, offering it to Bucky without looking up at him.]
[ Bucky takes the rope, holding it as he reaches for Steve's hair again. His voice is low, a whisper. ]
Good. That's-- that's good, Steve.
[ Bucky is still trying to breathe through this, to process that all of the things he thinks about at night are right here, standing (kneeling) in front of him, in reality. He can be intimidated, or he can face it like he's faced challenges before. ]
[Even though Bucky's voice is a whisper, the words run straight down Steve's spine like a jolt of electricity. He shivers, goosebumps rising on the bare flesh of his forearms, and he can feel his erection already starting to strain at his jeans again. His breath quickens as he holds his wrists out for Bucky, keeping them pressed together. Submitting to bondage that he could break in the blink of an eye if he wanted to.]
[ Bucky feels a laser sort of focus creeping over him, something firm and a little dark, but determined. His nerves from the first time have settled quite a bit now that they're both doing this with full consent, and the lack of guessing or reactions is enough to keep him entirely set on what he wants. What he has wanted.
So Bucky pulls the rope taut between his hands, pulling them so they make a soft 'snap' in the air, and begins winding them around Steve;s pale wrists. This time, the wrapping is tighter, the knot secure. If Steve wants out, he'll need to actually work for it this time; no slipping the ropes or jiggling the knot loose. ]
[Not that Steve wants out. As the ropes wrap around his wrists, he bites his lower lip to hold back a whimper. Next time, the part of him that's still capable of planning ahead thinks, he's going to take his clothes off first. Make himself completely naked and vulnerable when he submits, make it clear that his entire body is Bucky's to use.
The room is silent as Bucky works, but the silence isn't oppressive like it was earlier. Instead, it holds the electric charge of anticipation for both of them. Maybe they're both perverts, but they're in this together, and that's all that matters to Steve.]
[ Bucky surveys his work, nodding to himself once Steve is secured. ]
Stop me if it's too much. If I do something wrong, okay?
[ There's an edge of fear in his tone, beyond the plea evident as he speaks. This is new, potentially damaging territory for the both of them, and he wouldn't be able to bear it if he knew he hurt his friend.
As it stands, he needs to be able to trust Steve as much as Steve trusts him. And he isn't quite sure about the blindfold, but he feels far less of a need for it this time around. ]
[His voice is quiet, but steady. It's not like Bucky could physically damage him, and Steve, being Steve, doesn't quite consider the potential for emotional damage. Especially not when he's already settled quite comfortably into that hazy place in his mind where he doesn't quite think the same way he would normally. He registers the fear in Bucky's voice, but can't figure out why it's there.]
[ Bucky is still finding his way around Steve, so some of the nuances are lost on him. But he seemingly has enough to run with, so he stands fully, braces himself, and thinks about what he wants, and how to get it.
Steve is trussed up like he has a pretty bow on. Bucky starts by just petting him, slowly, and letting instinct take over. For the moment, he needs to observe, to feel things out. ]
[Steve nuzzles into Bucky's hand like he's hungry for touch (he is). He kisses his palm, traces life lines with the tip of his tongue. He wants, but he's given the reins over to Bucky - and as much as that's exactly what he wants, there's still a moment of struggle with the part of him that wants to take control and make things happen. He isn't very good at inaction, at waiting for things to happen. But maybe that's part of why he needs this, to teach him to overcome his faults.]
[ The warmth of Steve's skin against his palm is enough to make Bucky shudder. But it's the wet path of Steve's tongue on his skin that makes him sigh. He's done so much violence with these hands, but Steve is practically worshiping them. Bucky has to suppress the urge to sob softly as an unexpected surge of emotion swells from within him.
Steve, the leader, on his knees for an old subordinate. Bucky cards his metal fingers through Steve's hair again, drags the backs of his fingers along the sharp edges of Steve's cheekbones. It's nice, he thinks, being adored instead of reviled; having someone want him rather than fear him. It's the kind of thing that goes to a man's head...or other places.
Unable to stand the chafing, Bucky reaches down to unzip his jeans. Before he gets too carried away, he leans down and allows himself to cup Steve's face between his hands and give him a quick kiss on the forehead. Maybe he's just thanking Steve in advance before some of his more unmentionable desires take over. ]
[Steve doesn't flinch away from the metal hand, either, turning his cheek to rub against the fingers. He tips his chin up slightly, lets his tongue drag around and between them, just like he would with Bucky's flesh hand. Maybe he can't feel it, but he can see it, see the way Steve wants all of him, without reservation.
There's a soft smile on his face after Bucky kisses his forehead, a hint of sadness in the gaze that he keeps somewhere around Bucky's hip. He wants this - wouldn't have told Bucky he did if he didn't - but that doesn't mean that there isn't a part of him that wants tender softness, too. Maybe someday, he'll be able to talk Bucky into it. But for now, they have this.]
[ Outside of this quick slip, the softer things hurt Bucky too much. Steve needs it, but Bucky tends to flee, even though he knows objectively things used to be different for him.
He needs to get out of his head.
Bucky uses his left thumb to trace the line of Steve's lower lip, eyes fixed on the sharp tip of Steve's nose, the way his lips form and shape over his teeth. He nudges Steve's mouth open, unconsciously licking his own lips, and slides the metal in. His voice is low, thick. ]
[Just the sound of that one word makes Steve groan, his eyes sliding shut. The digit presses into his mouth, cold metal against warm, wet flesh, and Steve purses his lips around it. Truth be told, he's only been with another man once or twice, and the number of blowjobs he's given can be counted on one hand. But he hollows his cheeks and sucks at the thumb like it's a cock, a keen trapped in his throat as he bobs his head, taking as much of the metal in as he can.]
[ Bucky's features tighten, and he chokes off a soft keen of his own as he watches Steve curl his lips around that metal thumb and really go for it. Then he hears himself, realizes how weak it makes him sound, and presses his lips together to try and control the outburst. He's still not fully in control of his emotions, and seeing Steve doing this so adeptly makes his thoughts scatter around like sizzling water on a hot stone.
His breaths are coming heavy, and he has to say something. ]
I can feel that, you know. Everything. [ Maybe not as sensitively as his own skin would with the little bumps on Steve's tongue but... ] Look up.
[Steve's never really considered that Bucky might have some sort of sensation in his metal hand, that T'Challa's scientists were capable of that sort of thing. His eyes widen almost comically at the realization - he'd been exaggerating his movements because he'd thought Bucky couldn't feel it and all he had to go on was the visual - and he looks up at him, pausing for a moment. His pupils are blown wide with lust, leaving the barest rim of blue, and his lips are already reddened and swollen. Slowly, holding eye contact with Bucky, he drags his tongue up the underside of the thumb.]
[ confirmation, encouragement, both at the same time. Bucky palms himself, trying to ease the ache in his erection, but it barely works if at all.
His hand has stopped or deflected bullets before, and now he's feeling the stimulation in those nerves go straight down his spine. If it weren't for his insistent cock, Bucky could almost watch Steve do this all day, with those reddened lips and blissed-out eyes. Almost. ]
[If he were better at this - hell, if he had any idea what he was doing - he might wait for orders. Part of him wants to anyway. But the part of him that's still stubbornly Steve Rogers forges ahead and takes the initiative into his own hands.
(Not literally, because they're still tied.)
He gives the pad of the metal thumb one last swipe with his tongue before he withdraws, then walks forward another step on his knees, pushing Bucky's flesh hand away from his erection with his face, licking at whatever exposed skin he can reach. He might not be talking a whole lot right now (for once in his life), but he makes himself clear enough.]
[ Bucky tugs the hem of his shirt up just enough, so that Steve can nuzzle and lap at the skin of his abdomen. But it's still not enough, and then Steve-- Steve has that look in his eyes and Bucky knows precisely what the guy is thinking.
Before he gets too carried away, Bucky plants a firm hand on Steve's forehead. ]
No.
[ Like he is chiding a puppy. It takes an immense amount of willpower. Bucky pushes Steve back, much to his own body's disappointment. But soon. ]
Sit back on your feet.
[ Bucky pulls the chair, arranges it closer, and sits, legs spread wide to accommodate his growing girth. Steve wants to be told how to look, how to behave, what to do with himself. Bucky tugs his jeans over his hips enough to get comfortable, pushes the waistband of his boxer-briefs out of the way and frees his straining cock.]
[And, like a puppy, there's a whimper of disappointment when Bucky pushes him away. But he behaves, doesn't try to toe the line any farther. He might test Bucky a little, but at heart, he wants this, wants to be told what to do to make Bucky feel good. He's not the sort to misbehave just to enjoy being disciplined; he wants to be told how good he is.
So he sits back on his feet and waits, hands bound in front of him. His own cock strains at his jeans, the pressure growing uncomfortable, but he doesn't show any sign of being bothered. He's supposed to sit and look pretty, and that's damn well what he's going to do.
His eyes track Bucky as he pulls his own erection free, drinking in the sight. He hadn't been able to look before, and now his gaze is hungry, focused intently on him.]
[ Bucky palms himself, watching Steve adjust to his new position on the floor. He sees Steve looking at him, looking downright thirsty as hell, and Bucky decides to give him a little show.
He tugs his shirt up again with his right hand, kneading with his left. He leans back, tips his chin up, and licks his lips. ]
[A blush blooms high on Steve's cheekbones, but Bucky's not wrong. He does want to look. There's something a little embarrassing about being ordered to do it, though, like Bucky's drawing attention to his perversion, dragging it out into the open and laying it bare. It makes him want to drop his gaze to the floor and pretend he'd never thought of doing any such thing.
But at the same time, he couldn't look away even if he wanted to, not with what Bucky's doing in front of him. Not with all the times he'd imagined this sort of thing years ago (and feeling vaguely guilty all the while). And although he's never imagined him doing it with a metal arm, god, it's kind of a turn-on. He wonders what the metal must feel like, the cool, smooth surface, so unlike flesh. A moan bubbles up from his throat, and Steve doesn't try to hold it back.]
[ Even if he can't see Steve with his eyes closed, Bucky can still hear him, scent him. He kind of likes letting his imagination run, despite the object of his thoughts being directly in front of him, on his knees, only a foot or two away. ]
Heh, yeah.
[ Like he's encouraging the moan, the voyeurism, the whole fucking exhibitionist bit in general. There's something erotic about getting Steve all worked up when he can't do anything about it. Bucky squirms in the chair, curling his metal fingers (cool, but not uncomfortably) around his cock and teasing the head. He could have Steve do it, but this is more fun for now. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He lifts his gaze, looks at Steve somewhere in the vicinity of his left eyebrow. His mouth has gone strangely dry, and he's fighting the urge to put his hand on Steve's throat. Geez he's fucked up in the head. ]
Shi-- Steve, god, I feel like some sleaze for even thinking about this. For thinking about you and- and here I am, here you are... is this even something normal people do?
no subject
[Steve slides off the chair, goes down onto his knees. The rope's still behind the chair, the handkerchief somewhere on the floor. Not that he really needs either of them.]
I- um. Just tell me what to do. Please. [He doesn't lift his head up to look at Bucky, but there's desperation in his voice.]
oh these precious children
He closes his eyes for a moment, maybe to pray and ask forgiveness, or-- he's not sure. This could be totally perverse, broken beyond repair, but fuck he wants this. And he wants it bad. Bucky licks his lip, and glances down at the rope. He takes a breath to steady himself. ]
P-- [ He clears his throat. ] Pick up the rope, Steve.
2 pure for this world
He reaches out behind him, feels around on the floor till his fingers meet the rough texture of the rope and close around it. Drags it over the floor and holds it up in front of him, offering it to Bucky without looking up at him.]
no subject
Good. That's-- that's good, Steve.
[ Bucky is still trying to breathe through this, to process that all of the things he thinks about at night are right here, standing (kneeling) in front of him, in reality. He can be intimidated, or he can face it like he's faced challenges before. ]
Hold your wrists out.
no subject
no subject
So Bucky pulls the rope taut between his hands, pulling them so they make a soft 'snap' in the air, and begins winding them around Steve;s pale wrists. This time, the wrapping is tighter, the knot secure. If Steve wants out, he'll need to actually work for it this time; no slipping the ropes or jiggling the knot loose. ]
no subject
The room is silent as Bucky works, but the silence isn't oppressive like it was earlier. Instead, it holds the electric charge of anticipation for both of them. Maybe they're both perverts, but they're in this together, and that's all that matters to Steve.]
no subject
Stop me if it's too much. If I do something wrong, okay?
[ There's an edge of fear in his tone, beyond the plea evident as he speaks. This is new, potentially damaging territory for the both of them, and he wouldn't be able to bear it if he knew he hurt his friend.
As it stands, he needs to be able to trust Steve as much as Steve trusts him. And he isn't quite sure about the blindfold, but he feels far less of a need for it this time around. ]
no subject
[His voice is quiet, but steady. It's not like Bucky could physically damage him, and Steve, being Steve, doesn't quite consider the potential for emotional damage. Especially not when he's already settled quite comfortably into that hazy place in his mind where he doesn't quite think the same way he would normally. He registers the fear in Bucky's voice, but can't figure out why it's there.]
no subject
Steve is trussed up like he has a pretty bow on. Bucky starts by just petting him, slowly, and letting instinct take over. For the moment, he needs to observe, to feel things out. ]
no subject
no subject
Steve, the leader, on his knees for an old subordinate. Bucky cards his metal fingers through Steve's hair again, drags the backs of his fingers along the sharp edges of Steve's cheekbones. It's nice, he thinks, being adored instead of reviled; having someone want him rather than fear him. It's the kind of thing that goes to a man's head...or other places.
Unable to stand the chafing, Bucky reaches down to unzip his jeans. Before he gets too carried away, he leans down and allows himself to cup Steve's face between his hands and give him a quick kiss on the forehead. Maybe he's just thanking Steve in advance before some of his more unmentionable desires take over. ]
no subject
There's a soft smile on his face after Bucky kisses his forehead, a hint of sadness in the gaze that he keeps somewhere around Bucky's hip. He wants this - wouldn't have told Bucky he did if he didn't - but that doesn't mean that there isn't a part of him that wants tender softness, too. Maybe someday, he'll be able to talk Bucky into it. But for now, they have this.]
no subject
He needs to get out of his head.
Bucky uses his left thumb to trace the line of Steve's lower lip, eyes fixed on the sharp tip of Steve's nose, the way his lips form and shape over his teeth. He nudges Steve's mouth open, unconsciously licking his own lips, and slides the metal in. His voice is low, thick. ]
Suck.
no subject
no subject
His breaths are coming heavy, and he has to say something. ]
I can feel that, you know. Everything. [ Maybe not as sensitively as his own skin would with the little bumps on Steve's tongue but... ] Look up.
no subject
no subject
[ confirmation, encouragement, both at the same time. Bucky palms himself, trying to ease the ache in his erection, but it barely works if at all.
His hand has stopped or deflected bullets before, and now he's feeling the stimulation in those nerves go straight down his spine. If it weren't for his insistent cock, Bucky could almost watch Steve do this all day, with those reddened lips and blissed-out eyes. Almost. ]
God-- your face. Your mouth.
no subject
(Not literally, because they're still tied.)
He gives the pad of the metal thumb one last swipe with his tongue before he withdraws, then walks forward another step on his knees, pushing Bucky's flesh hand away from his erection with his face, licking at whatever exposed skin he can reach. He might not be talking a whole lot right now (for once in his life), but he makes himself clear enough.]
no subject
Before he gets too carried away, Bucky plants a firm hand on Steve's forehead. ]
No.
[ Like he is chiding a puppy. It takes an immense amount of willpower. Bucky pushes Steve back, much to his own body's disappointment. But soon. ]
Sit back on your feet.
[ Bucky pulls the chair, arranges it closer, and sits, legs spread wide to accommodate his growing girth. Steve wants to be told how to look, how to behave, what to do with himself. Bucky tugs his jeans over his hips enough to get comfortable, pushes the waistband of his boxer-briefs out of the way and frees his straining cock.]
I'm gonna look at you there.
no subject
So he sits back on his feet and waits, hands bound in front of him. His own cock strains at his jeans, the pressure growing uncomfortable, but he doesn't show any sign of being bothered. He's supposed to sit and look pretty, and that's damn well what he's going to do.
His eyes track Bucky as he pulls his own erection free, drinking in the sight. He hadn't been able to look before, and now his gaze is hungry, focused intently on him.]
no subject
He tugs his shirt up again with his right hand, kneading with his left. He leans back, tips his chin up, and licks his lips. ]
Mn. You wanted to look, so look.
no subject
But at the same time, he couldn't look away even if he wanted to, not with what Bucky's doing in front of him. Not with all the times he'd imagined this sort of thing years ago (and feeling vaguely guilty all the while). And although he's never imagined him doing it with a metal arm, god, it's kind of a turn-on. He wonders what the metal must feel like, the cool, smooth surface, so unlike flesh. A moan bubbles up from his throat, and Steve doesn't try to hold it back.]
no subject
Heh, yeah.
[ Like he's encouraging the moan, the voyeurism, the whole fucking exhibitionist bit in general. There's something erotic about getting Steve all worked up when he can't do anything about it. Bucky squirms in the chair, curling his metal fingers (cool, but not uncomfortably) around his cock and teasing the head. He could have Steve do it, but this is more fun for now. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
boxers? briefs? boxerbriefs?
YES
(no subject)