Archive of Our Own

"Here Ally," Steve coos, shaking the feline's bowl lightly. It makes the kibble inside rattle around the delicate pink bowl, scrawled with her name across the side. A soft, white furred head peaks around the corner, squishy feet padding to the edge of the kitchen and bowing to dip her tiny mouth into the bowl. Steve smiles, bending at the waist to run his fingers along Alpine's smooth, glossy coat. He faintly remembers seeing her skittering along the grounds of the compound, hungry and mewling. After much pleading to Tony, (mostly Bucky whining about needing a support animal because he's literally a century old,) and Tony bent. Seeing the little happy dance Bucky did when they pulled the cat inside was something he hopes remains as fresh as the morning's sunrise. She purrs, pleased with her usual pampering. She attempted scratching Bucky's metal arm once, and once she realized she would sooner break her nails then tear the surface, she gave up on the scratching business. Now, much like a dog, she flops in front of guests and pleads with her big, round eyes for a tummy rub. It never fails to make the two of them chuckle, the suckers they both are. She seems to know this, and take advantage full well. The spider child has become quite attached during his weekly visits with Bucky. They watch Star Wars or talk about visiting memorial parks, scuffles and petty crime one deals with, missions and extractions, the other. Tony, being attached at the hip with Parker, has (Much to his denial) begun to order her expensive, luxury food and carries cat treats in his pocket.

He gives the cat a final pat and strolls from the kitchen, back to Bucky's nature documentary droning on the TV. Most people (Including Steve) would doze almost immediately at more then a few minutes, but the wonder and kidlike sweetness Bucky explodes into with it is just too amazing to miss. Now, they have unlimited access to whatever shows they'd like, and anything about science or nature, Bucky jumped to. His eyes light with fascination and he leans forward, fingers worked into the soft and easy fabric of his sweatpants. He watches images of a horrid looking fish scuttling along, and he rolls his eyes at Bucky's grin. "Called a blobfish, Stevie. Isn't it cool?" The shorter man smiles warmly, presses a kiss to the brunette's neck. "Yeah, look at 'em. The resemblance to Stark is shocking." Bucky elbows Steve, muffling his chuckle into a metal palm, cheeks redding. The super soldier grins deeper, letting it reach his eyes. 'This', he thinks, ''are how things are supposed to be.' He curls closer to the taller man, worming under the cashmere throw and nods off peacefully to the sound of Bucky's heart in his chest against his ear.

When he wakes, it's late evening. The sun is on fire across the sky, streaking bloodred and tangerine orange. Bucky had begun to cradle him as he slept. There's a skin-warmed metal arm around his waist and a flesh one cradling his head. He's slung across Bucky's lap like a small child, warm and safe. Bucky's awake, TV muted but flashing images of a savannah somewhere in the heart of Africa. Steve tugs at him, unsure of what he wants. The taller man hushes him softly and pets on his hair until it quells his mewling. Soft and featherlight kisses brush along his neck, warm and gentle. It pulls a long and quiet sigh from Steve, tossing his head to the side to allow Bucky's lips to roam farther and press harder into the supple skin. There's a honey-slow heat pushing inside of the blonde, and it makes him insistent. He pulls at the taller man, raking his nails across his back, desperate pleading sounds rising from his mouth. "Easy baby, it's alright." Steve feels nothing but small, insignificant. It shows in the way that tears come suddenly. He feels like a burden, feels like it's choking him. He drops his head, trying to ignore the craving of curling closer to Bucky.

"What is it that you want, baby?" Bucky coos, running warm fingers along the sharp slope of Steve's body. Words evade him. He opens his mouth to speak, but his mind is amber and he feels breathless. He emits a broken sound, cheeks reddening. He's Captain fucking America, but he can't speak to save his life? Bucky simply hums at his struggle and smiles, petting the strokes and curves of his waist. "It's okay. Don' gotta tell me, baby. I know." Steve distantly wonders what he did to deserve the man who's lap he's curled into, the man who's palms are rubbing warmly across his back with single-minded purpose. A metal hand catches in the shorthairs of the back of his neck, and it tugs mercilessly. Clamors of too-good sensation burst inside of him, wrapping around his spine and pressing in the growing heat between his legs. The blonde tilts his head back and Bucky manuvers it smoothly to his shoulder.

"B-Buck," he chokes, throat dry and voice keening. There's a line they seem to be walking, warm and vibrant with pleasure-pain. "You've gone all soft for me. Sweet when you wanna be, hmm?" Steve nods slowly, licking his lips, absorbing the feeling of Bucky's fingers rucking up his shirt. The couch squalls in testimony of their weight when Steve's hips jerk back, chasing Bucky between his legs. "C'mon Stevie. This ain't a fantastic place." The shorter man pouts in protest, but controls the throbbing in his bones for long enough that Bucky can seal his mouth over Steve's and lead him to the bedroom as gently as possible. He goes pliable, soothed and contented with whatever Bucky wants to bestow on him. "Take off your clothes, darling. Wanna see what I own." His answer is to simply start stripping. Bucky seems to appreciate his skin-tight briefs every damn time they take their clothes off for each other, and Steve had hoped tonight would end like this, so he's come prepared. Simple and tiffany blue, trimmed with what could barley be called lace if you squint. Bucky's eyes go wide and dark, slim lips curving upward. He drags in a ragged breath and beckons Steve closer, cupping his metal hand around the curve of his lover's neck. Steve goes boneless, drowsy smile painting his mouth.

"Sweet little boy, why don't you tell me what you need?" Steve gasps wetly at the nickname, liquid fire sloshing behind his eyes. His mouth moves, but no sound escapes. Weakly, he flutters his eyes shut. "Bucky," he whispers, baby blues blown so far dark with arousal and glittering stars that Bucky swears he can see the universe in each twinkling pool. "You need me to fix it for you?" he palms Steve's thickening erection, watching fondly when the veins in Steve's marked-up neck flare and the redness of his cheeks and plush chest stands out in sharp relief. He digs his fingers into the meat of Steve's ass, reveling in the little noise that seeps from his throat. Wordlessly, he tugs the blonde's briefs down, cockhead so dripping that it leaves a line down the smooth material. "Fucking soaked. God, I haven't even put my hands on you." Steve's fingers search for purpose in the sheets while Bucky discards his shirt and sweats, taking his boxers off with them. They ruck in a disorderly pile on the bedroom floor, to be dealt with later.

Steve's gone easy and silent, baby blues wide and trusting. Bucky's got a feeling, from the malleable, warm gold of Steve's body to the glow of the afternoon that Steve's slipping in age very quickly. His blinks go slow as Bucky runs his fingers up those graceful sides, smears his lips across the deep and sloping bones of his collarbone. The brunette reaches his metal hand up and allots it into Steve's slick mouth, savoring the way the pressure sensors alight. His thumb sinks in easily, taking to the heavy and downright sloppy way that Steve's licking at him. "You just wanted something in your mouth, didn't you, baby?" Steve swallows, nodding around the digit. He's gone down so damn solid, from a laughing, sweating, joyous solider built like a brick shithouse to a whining 240 pound paperweight pansy. Bucky loves it. He goes to withdraw his finger from Steve's mouth to a protestant mewl. Worse then the fucking cat, Bucky thinks to himself. His little baby. "I got 'cha. It's okay." He leans to the edge of the bed and reaches into the tiny porcelain dish on the vanity. He slots the red pacifier into Steve's mouth, heart melting at the satisfied sound the shorter man slurs out around the nipple.

It takes him aback every time he sees Steve like this; the level of trust and abundant love that urges from him. "You wanna lay on your stomach for me?" The shorter man tilts like he was pushed, clonking his heavy and swimming head to the side. It's been months since Steve's regressed, especially in a sexual environment, and it's hitting the poor boy like a freight train. "Buck," he tuts from behind the plastic, glassy and smooth. "I'm here. A good boy like you deserves a reward. What do you say to that?" Steve nods vehemently, jaw flying open and pacifier dropping to the sheets when Bucky properly gets his mouth around the blonde's entrance. He immediately bucks up, hips raising in chasing the sensation. The taller man reaches up and gently leads Steve back to his pacifier, the other holding his shaking hips in place. The thrumming and feverish heat in the cradle of the Captain's pelvis makes Bucky's cock throb painfully. Partly in spite of that, he leans down again and properly seals his lips around Steve's blood-hot hole. It feels like driving rail spikes up Steve's spine, bursting and molten. The shorter man moans brokenly, lazily tonging his pacifier and allowing Bucky his ministrations.

The brunette's stubble scrapes deliciously along each curve of Steve's heaving body, saliva and precum that's slid down the blonde's shaft makes the whole process sloppy. Bucky can't bring himself to care as he watches in amazement. His lover's body takes so easy to the metal finger nudging the tight furl of his most sensitive place open. It's too early and Bucky knows it, but he also knows that the champagne-wild fizz of hazy and mixed pleasure and pain only serves to make Steve sink lower. "Yes, yes oh," he garbles around the tinted rubber. Blunt fingernails tangle in Bucky's hair, uncoiled from how he tucks it behind his ears. The second finger makes Steve shudder. Skin-warmed metal and the taste of sweat. The taller man never stops with his mouth, emitting a low growl when Steve lets out a particularly desperate sound. He sucks in bruising marks, smiling at the blotchy, staining bruises growing. Healing factor or not, the next time Steve sits, he'll feel the remainder of Bucky on him. "Bucky, please!" the Captain's voice has gone punch-drunk, lusty. The Sargent pets the blonde corn silk of Steve's hair, smiling faintly. "Daddy, oh I can't," Steve trembles, lips working thickly around the shame that rises in his blood. Saying that word still makes Steve feel embarrassed, and Bucky knows it.

The brunette's cock aches at the words. "Shh baby, Daddy's got 'cha. It's alright, angel. Daddy's here." Steve's so far blissed out that the words draw nothing but sweetness from him, nothing beyond the exertion flush he wears and the permanent swipe of dusty rose across his sharp cheekbones and erect nipples. Steve's rising on a wave of need, begging and pleading, crying type of need. Bucky knows it. Steve knows it. The bedframe fucking knows it. The blonde's hips spasm erratically, wailing sounds of shattered pleasure ripped from his throat, garbled around his pacifier as Bucky's third metal finger slips inside the loosened space of Steve's body. He's trembling, built legs pulled in and up to let Bucky have better access. "Daddy, it feels so good," Bucky smiles warmly, slowing his fingers, massaging the place inside his baby that feels like lightning. It draws the tiniest, most exposed and vulnerable sound the solider has ever heard. "Daddy!" Steve's delirious with pleasure, so lost and small and trembling with the weight of Bucky's affection that he can't withstand the onslaught for a moment longer. "Daddy, god, please, I wanna feel good-" The taller man stoops and kisses Steve's stomach, stretching his fingers in the way that gets his lover shrieking. "Dada," He moans, lashes fluttering closed and legs clamping together. His insides vice, clenching greedily on Bucky's fingers and spilling his seed messily across his stomach. His fingers twitch even minutes after Steve comes down, Bucky wiping the cum off his heaving stomach with a shirt on the floor and petting his hair until his breathing slows. 'Just like the old days,' Bucky thinks fondly.

Steve's still only sinking lower, nearly unable to respond with words beyond sounds and tiny facial expressions. Anything other then bliss hasn't crossed his features. Bucky knows there's a particular amount of delicacy he must handle Steve with from now on. He's further lost his ability to articulate his feelings and emotions besides frustration or sadness. He's lost the distinctity of "Daddy" to "Dada" a distinct change that leaves Bucky 110% in charge. Arousal flickers brightly in his groin as Steve's eyes flick to him, glassy as cat eye shooter marbles and wonder away, seeped in love. He's fucking gone. "You still want Dada in you, lovely?" Steve lets out a vehement, sure sound, and it's as much consent as he needs. Steve would fuss or squall if he disapproved, something Bucky knows from experience. "Alright baby, we can do that. We can manage that." He shifts Steve's long legs apart, still loose and heavy with submissive energy. Steve draws them together again, embarrassed, Bucky once again worries about Steve's ability to consent. The blonde, however, reaches his hand down and slips a finger within himself, still sloppy and blood-hot from Bucky's ministrations. Slowly, quietly, he opens his mouth. "Empty," he mewls, a pitiful sound. "Ennty, Dada, please," The sounds of his words have begun to slur, soft and needy. "Oh baby, look at you. Dada'le fix it." He eases Steve's legs apart again and slips between them, lining himself up to Steve as gently as he can before pushing past the resistance there and sinking home.

His mouth falls open in a round shape as a sound falls from his lips as he eases Steve to his back. "Fuck" he purrs, stooping to kiss over Steve's ample cleavage at this angle. Steve moans too, smiling drowsily, He's happy to be pleasing for Bucky. The taller man moves languidly inside his lover, saving the tiny hng hng hng sounds that escape his throat. Steve's cock has begun to leak yet again, wetting his stomach and drawing tears to the corner of Steve's cornflower blues. They stick to his lashes, a constellation of pleasure and a touch of oversensitivity driving him honey sweet and slow to bliss. Bucky's trying to bite down his groans. Steve's all virgin tightness and slick, burning fever heat and it drives his slow, deep thrusts. He pants heavy breaths, fierce heat coiling in his abdomen. "Look at you, princess. You're just the sweetest thing I've ever seen, honey. I know you like it like that, don't you? Like it when Daddy makes you feel nice and full inside." Bucky's always been a talker in the sheets. He's never missed an opportunity to tell Steve, his Steve, how amazing he is. Whether it be calling a precious little angel or a filthy, depraved slut, it's always been what Steve's begged for. Now, though, he chokes with emotion when Steve drops his jaw and cries out for him, blunt nails raking his back. "Dada, god, f-feels good to b-be f-filled." Silky woven gold hair, strongly sloped nose and plush, rose petal lips, Curved, sharply lined collarbone, perfect and round supple tits, narrow waist. Defined and powerful hips, thick thighs bunched with heavy muscles and toned calves, delicate bird boned ankles down to dainty feet. Every graceful, lithe and beautiful inch of Steve is devoted to Bucky, every atom and cell of his flesh agrees.

Bucky groans, hot and desperate in the curve of Steve's neck. He's driving himself deeper, deeper, deeper, tasting blood and skin and sweat and overflowing love. "God Stevie," he moans, legs shaking from the exertion. The blonde flutters around him, lips wet. Bucky reaches a hand up to lace in Steve's hair and tugs, sending electrical bursts of arousal through Steve's shaking body. It feels like someone's driving a stun baton into the cradle of his hips, live and electric and searing. "D-Daddy," he gasps, eyes flying shut. Bucky sucks harder on the delicate skin of Steve's pecs until they mark, biting and licking soothingly over them. He reels back and blows cool air across the slick skin, savoring the wail Steve offers up. "Harder, p-please, Dada," Steve chokes, embarrassment and shame making his aching cock twitch. His pacifier has long fallen from his lips, and he whines. His mouth is lonely. Bucky notices and kisses him, taking the blonde's tongue into his mouth and sucks lightly. It's saliva-filled and filthy, squelching sounds rising from where their bodies are joined, but Bucky can't bring himself to care. "Stevie, baby, I'm gonna, where do-" Bucky's hips work frantically. "In, in me, please," Steve babbles, gripping the taller man's ass and drawing him deeper as Bucky reaches between and squeezes Steve's erection.

The blonde tips his head back and sobs, shivering. "Dada! D-Daddy, 'm gonna cum," he begs, pleading for release. "Go on, princess. Let Daddy see it." That's all it takes Steve to fall from the edge, neck snapping taught before moaning vehemently and unraveling across the plain of his abdomen. He tightens around Bucky and the brunette stutters out a garbled version of Steve's name, hips jerking and twitching as he spills into Steve. He holds himself all the way in, pumping rope after rope as deep inside his lover as he can. Steve groans loudly at the sensation of being filled and turns to his stomach, face in the sheets and hips raised. To take it in even deeper, Bucky thinks with a shiver. Steve's a wreck, pushing back and clenching moments after Bucky's spasms, milking every bit of seed he can. "Fuck, baby, what are you doin'?" Bucky withdrawals when oversensitivity begins to tug at his stomach, and immediately the blonde squalls. "N-No! Can't, please, p-put it back in me, god," Bucky hushes him gently and eases him, ignoring the bolt of arousal that strikes him when he goes in with little resistance, a loud, sucking and wet noise from the way Bucky's cum is spilling out of him. He drapes himself around Steve's back, petting his hair soothingly. "It's alright, Daddy's here."

The Captain makes a contented sound and grabs Bucky's metal hand, dragging it to his stomach. The normally smooth plane is swollen outward, a bit rounded from Bucky 's cock and the amount of cum pushing at the lower half of his body. "Daddy," he purrs, eyes filling with tears. Bucky tuts at him again, running his fingers over the roundness. "You like your tummy nice and full with me?" The shorter man nods frantically, stooping in exhaustion. Bucky eases him down, kissing his perspiring forehead. "Lay down, doll. Daddy's here." The sub sighs and turns his heated cheek to the cool pillow, lost in sensation as Bucky dots on him. "That's my sweet boy," he whispers, smiling. "My good little boy."