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The white noise machine is supposed to be soothing, but it does little to calm Bucky’s nerves.
It’s hard to relax when you’re sitting in a doctor’s exam room, wearing nothing but a too-small hospital gown and trying not to freeze your almost-exposed ass off in the heavy A/C.
I mean, sure, it’s just Dr. Banner — Bucky’s known him for almost 10 years, started seeing him when he moved to New York for college and needed an off-campus GP for a minor medical issue. And this is just a regular physical.
OK, it’s a regular physical, but he’s also getting the results of his latest STI screening. Which is important, because it’s been two months since he broke up with Evan and he wants to get back on the dating scene.
Important to get back on Tinder and Grindr with a clean slate.
Sighing, Bucky rubs his legs to keep the circulation going. Why the fuck is it so cold in here? His nipples are rubbing uncomfortably against the rough fabric of the gown. It’s your typical mid-August New York fetid swamp outside, but c’mon now, this still seems excessive. He grips the sides of the exam table and sighs.
It’s been at least 20 minutes since the nurse, an alluring redhead named Natasha that Bucky would totally drool over if he weren’t solely into dudes, took his vitals (all normal) and said that Dr. Banner would be in shortly.
Is 20 minutes “shortly”? It’s not in Bucky’s world, but maybe the medical establishment has different ideas about time. Bucky squirms impatiently on the table. Jesus Christ, he just wants to get this over with and get back to work.
Preferably after he gets a doughnut and a huge caramel macchiato as a treat for getting through this whole ordeal.
Bucky’s read all the posters about cholesterol and depression and Knowing Your Ticks To Avoid Lyme Disease at least five times each now, and he’s just about to lever himself off the table to grab his phone from the back pocket of his pants, currently folded on the guest chair near the desk, when the door opens. He sits back on the exam table, expecting to see Dr. Banner’s familiar stooped posture, salt-and-pepper curls, and wire rims.
But it isn’t Dr. Banner.
It’s only the hottest man Bucky has ever seen, bar none.
He’s tall, with long legs encased in tight tailored trousers with a noticeable bulge at the crotch (no, no, don’t look there, oh god) and broad shoulders and jacked biceps that fill out his pink dress shirt and lab coat with ease. His dark blond hair falls over his high forehead, over a long, straight nose that’s been broken at least once, and a neatly trimmed beard with small patches of silver on the chin, which is the only indication that he’s over forty.
That beard alone is enough to kill Bucky stone dead, but together with everything else...
Until Mystery Doctor turns his ridiculous sapphire gaze on Bucky. Those deep blue eyes light up, the gleam in them looking positively wolfish, and he smiles, little crinkles showing in the corners of his eyes. His teeth are pearly white and his lips are full and…and…
…and Bucky may not survive this exam. This guy is basically every one of Bucky’s Daddy wet dreams come to life.
“James Barnes, right?” Hot Doctor looks at the tablet he’s holding.
Bucky just manages to nod and not go uhhhh before saying, a little breathily, “Yes, that’s me. But everyone calls me Bucky.”
“Bucky.” The doctor’s eyes and smile get a fraction wider as he takes the few strides across the room to the table, his large hand held out. “So good to meet you. I’m Dr. Rogers.”
“I usually see Dr. Banner…” Bucky starts tentatively as he shakes it. Dr. Rogers’ hand is big and dry and warm and would feel so good on his thigh or his neck or his ass or his dick…he clears his throat as the doctor goes on.
“I know,” he says, friendly and sympathetic. “But Dr. Banner just got called away to the hospital to deal with an emergency, so he’s asked me to step in and take care of his appointments for the morning.”
“I’ve never seen you around before…?” counters Bucky, trying not to sound accusatory. Especially since it’s been nine months, or maybe more, since he was last here for his flu shot. That nurse Natasha wasn’t here then, who knows what other changes have happened in the interim?
“Yeah, I’m a new member of the team around here, just started a few months ago.” Dr. Rogers’ voice is warm and low and pours right through Bucky’s ribcage. “Before that I was an Army doctor, posted all over the world on various military bases taking care of soldiers.”
“Were you a surgeon?” Bucky asks. “Did you patch up battle wounds?” He’s aware he sounds a little stupid, and he may or may not be thinking of Owen on Grey’s Anatomy, who is absolutely nowhere near as hot as this guy.
Dr. Rogers chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m a GP with a focus on urology,” he answers. “No battle wounds, but I’ve seen a lot of penises and testicles and anuses in my time.”
At the word penises, said in that honeyed rumble, Bucky’s own dick twitches.
Quit it, he mentally yells at his traitorous cock, and tries very casually to press his legs together, hoping the doctor won’t notice.
“Haha,” he says out loud. No really, he says haha instead of actually laughing, like the biggest loser in the world. Fucking hell.
“Speaking of which,” Dr. Rogers’ voice turns brisk and business-like for a moment. “I’ve got your screening test results here.”
He sits down on the little rolling stool next to the exam table, his long legs sprawling out beneath him. The trousers bunch around thick thighs and Bucky can see the defined quads through the thin summer wool and oh god t here’s his dick making itself known again. Scrolling up on the tablet, the doctor finds the information he’s looking for.
“All clear,” he announces. “You’re clean and ready to go,” he smiles again, those ocean eyes dancing.
“Oh. Good,” Bucky gets out lamely. Although he is pleased to hear this.
“It’s always a relief, isn’t it?” says Dr. Rogers, looking up from the screen. “I got my own clean bill of health yesterday, oh yeah.”
He grins and holds out a large fist. After a brief pause, Bucky bumps it. “Good to know I can enjoy myself with no worries. Anyway, so today you’re just here for your annual physical…” the doctor scrolls through the tablet, presumably looking at Bucky’s records. “All your other blood work is normal. It looks like everything is fine with you, has been fine for a while. Everything alright at home? At work?”
“Yeah,” Bucky shrugs. His roommate Clint is great, if occasionally the world’s biggest pain in the ass, and his job as an engineer in R&D at Stark Industries is generally interesting. And he can’t complain about the pay and benefits. “All good, no problems.”
“Any mental or emotional issues?” Dr. Rogers’ voice is gentle.
“I mean, my dad had a heart attack in January, that was really stressful,” says Bucky hesitantly.
“Oh god, Bucky, I’m so sorry.” The doctor looks into his face — there are a few flecks of green in those irises that somehow make the deep blue even deeper — as he reaches out and puts one huge hand on Bucky’s thigh, his voice full of concern. The warmth bleeds through the thin fabric of the hospital gown.
Bucky swallows hard. He’s gotten his wish about getting that hand on him, although his dad’s health scare was not really the scenario he was envisioning for that.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice catching just a little. “It was scary, but everything’s fine now. He walks a lot, and my mom’s got him on one of those heart-healthy diets.”
“That’s excellent.” Dr. Rogers takes his hand away, and Bucky is suddenly a little bereft. He wants to keep the touch of that hand, wants it in other places…
Christ, Barnes, pull yourself together.
“Other than that, Bucky, any other health concerns you’ve got today?” Dr. Rogers makes a few taps on the tablet, then looks up, smiling.
“Well…” Bucky hesitates. “I’ve got this little lump on my hip.” He’s gone back and forth about bringing this up, because it might be a muscle knot or it might be an early indicator of terminal brain cancer. ( Fucking WebMD. ) “It’s probably nothing, though.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” says the doctor with a smile. “First, though, let’s do the standard checkup stuff.”
And with that, he takes Bucky through the usual, albeit very comprehensive, version of a checkup — the light in the eyes, the ear, nose, and throat check (“say AAH”) , the reflex knee tap. He has Bucky pull the gown off his shoulders so he can check his chest and back for any suspicious moles — there’s none of these, “although if you see anything weird, you should call the office and get a referral to the dermatologist, skin cancer is no joke.”
All of this is delivered in a highly professional manner, and yet…Dr. Rogers touches Bucky.
He touches him a lot.
When he’s looking in Bucky’s ears with the otoscope, he puts the other hand on the back of Bucky’s neck to keep him still, softly gripping the muscles on the sides with his fingertips. When he checks Bucky’s torso for weird freckles, he makes a point of running fingers over the skin “because sometimes melanomas can look normal but feel rough, like a callous.” Even when he’s checking Bucky’s knee reflex, he touches his side as if he’s keeping him steady.
It’s very distracting. Bucky swallows a lot, and more than once he has to tell his dick to settle down already.
It gets worse when Dr. Rogers asks to see his hip. Bucky moves the johnny just enough out of the way to show him the lump, just on the inside of the pelvic bone near his iliac crest. Bucky is fairly proud of how much he works out, his abs well-defined and running in a deep trench down to his groin. In his jokier moods, Evan used to call them his cum gutters.
Oh god, Barnes, don’t think about cum gutters, don’t think about cum gutters
Dr. Rogers says nothing about these muscles, but as he looks at the small bump, his fingers trace lovingly down this furrow like he’s memorizing them.
Like he wants to keep touching Bucky, all the way down to…
Bucky’s dick twitches involuntarily under the gown. Traitor.
“So this looks pretty small,” remarks the doctor, breaking Bucky out of his temporary reverie. He touches it gently, pushes on it a little harder. “Any pain?” he inquires. Bucky shakes his head.
“It’s soft, and there doesn’t look like there’s any infection or discharge,” Dr. Rogers goes on. “There’s probably just some lymph built up there. But if it gets bigger, or painful, or starts oozing, you should call us and come back in.”
Bucky nods. Mention of discharge and oozing — ewww — has killed his boner a bit. He covers back up, takes a deep breath, smiles at the other man. He’s calming down. He can make it through. He can do this.
All of that effort and willpower comes to nothing, though, when Dr. Rogers stands up, raises his eyebrows, and says, “Well, Bucky, are you ready for the awkward part of the exam?”
Without waiting for an answer, he goes over to the counter, grabs a pair of gloves and a bottle of Surgilube, and comes back, closing the privacy curtain around the exam table as he does so. He brings a short stool over from beside the exam table as he comes.
Oh no. In all the dizzying mood changes of the last few minutes, Bucky’s completely forgotten about this part of his physical. It’s never been a problem in the past with Dr. Banner, gentle and diffident and 60 years old, but with Walking Sex Dream Dr. Rogers…
Well.
And just like that, his dick is interested again.
“Yes,” Bucky croaks out. He. Is. Going. To. Die. Here.
Dr. Rogers’ blue eyes flash a little. “That’s good, Bucky,” he comments, expertly sliding on the gloves. “Prostate health is important, even for a younger man like you in excellent health.”
Bucky swallows. This is definitely not helping with his crotch situation.
“OK, now I need you to slide down the table and put your feet in the stirrups…” Bucky complies, uncomfortably aware of how his blood is flowing and he’s well on the way to a semi-chub. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the doctor won’t notice.
Maybe you’ll get even luckier and he will, a little rogue voice speaks up in his head.
Immediately he tells that voice to SHUT UP ALREADY but it’s too late, that idea has flared up in his mind and refuses to fuck off again.
“I’m going to move the gown out of the way now,” the doctor goes on. “And I need you to open your legs for me.” He glances pointedly at Bucky’s knees, instinctively propped together against one another in an effort to hide his growing erection.
Reluctantly Bucky opens his legs, just as Dr. Rogers turns on the bright, curved exam light at the bottom of the table and sits on the stool. It shines bright and warm on Bucky’s nether regions, reminding him that every bit of his private parts is now on display for the hottest guy in the world. It makes him thankful that he cleaned up really well this morning in the shower.
And that he got everything waxed this past weekend.
In anticipation of hooking up with a hot guy later this week when he goes out.
Or, you know, with a hot doctor at his annual physical.
Down between his legs, Bucky hears a sharp exhale. And thinks he hears the faintest words coming from the doctor.
“Oh, Buck.”
At the sound of this, the doctor’s hiss and his nicknaming of his nickname, Bucky’s own breath catches in his throat. He tries to calm down but his ever-treasonous dick twitches against his abs.
There’s a pause before the doctor speaks out loud. “So, Bucky,” he says, in an attempt at a normal professional tone but there’s the slightest of wavers in it. “Now I’m going to examine your penis and testicles, and then move on to your prostate. Is that OK?”
“Uh-huh,” Bucky responds in a whisper, because right now he knows if he said it aloud his voice would break like a goddamn teenager.
“Excellent,” says Dr. Rogers firmly. “This is just my fingers,” he warns, just before Bucky feels his gloved hands, lightly slick with lube, caress around his crown. The fingers are gentle but firm, and linger for several seconds before moving down under the head to examine there. The doctor keeps up a stream of commentary as he goes.
“Glans feels normal,” he remarks. “And the corpus cavernosum — that’s the shaft in layman’s terms — is also fine.” He strokes his hand up and down Bucky’s length, like he’s checking for any abnormalities but also like he’s…starting a handjob. After half a dozen strokes, Bucky can feel more and more blood filling his dick. When those magical hands reach the base of his dick and feel around the root, a faint shriek is torn from Bucky’s mouth.
He’s always been sensitive there.
“Oh, don’t worry, Bucky, this reaction is perfectly normal and healthy with this kind of exam,” The doctor looks reassuringly up at Bucky as he continues to caress over the root. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Uh…huh…” Bucky almost gasps out, because now those fingers, smooth and slick, are gently fingering his balls. The light shines brightly on his lower half and despite the heavy A/C in the room, Bucky feels warm, like he’s liable to break out into a sweat at any minute.
“Your testicles feel normal,” comments Dr. Rogers from below. He looks up again, eyebrows raised above those eyes, full lips pursed inside that goddamn perfect beard. “I hope you check them regularly. Testicular cancer is a serious thing, especially because it’s more common in healthy younger men like yourself.”
Bucky nods. He’s fully hard now and doesn’t trust his voice at all. The ball massage feels so fucking good and looking at the doctor’s mouth just makes him imagine the older man taking his nuts one by one between those amazing lips and sucking…
Oh god.
“Very good,” praises the doctor, and a wave of warmth passes through Bucky’s gut. Magical touch and compliments? Bucky will absolutely not survive this exam. “The testes feel fine, all normal. And now your perineum…”
Swallowing hard, Bucky endures the caresses against that square of skin so close to his hole. It’s coming, he thinks. One of those fingers is going to penetrate him and push inside and…
“So now I’ll do your prostate exam,” says Dr. Rogers. “But first, let me…” without finishing his sentence, he deftly adjusts the stirrups so Bucky’s legs are spread a bit wider and drawn up even further toward his torso. He feels completely open, completely exposed. The doctor can see everything now, in bright light and perfect detail.
It shouldn’t be this much of a turn-on, but it is. Bucky grips the sides of the exam table next to his heels.
There’s a slight slurping noise as the doctor pumps another blob of lube onto his glove, and Bucky mentally preps himself for something like Dr. Banner’s quick, impersonal insertion of a finger.
But that’s not what happens.
Instead, there’s a moment of perfect silence, broken only by the faint hum of the A/C overhead.
And then that almost-inaudible murmur again: Oh, Buck.
Followed by another one: So beautiful.
Before Bucky can even decide whether he’s actually heard these dumbfounding words or not, there’s a quick remark from below.
“You’ll just feel my finger now, Buck,” says Dr. Rogers. His voice has reverted to the cheerful, detached medical professional, but there’s a thread of gravel through it, which shouldn’t affect Bucky as much as it does.
Again he girds himself for the penetration. But instead the gloved finger swirls gently around his rim, spreading lube around the puckered muscle. It feels…good.
It feels like what a lover would do to start prepping him, to start opening him up.
Bucky just manages to hold back a hiss, but he can feel his rim clench a little at the contact. The doctor keeps circling, pressing a little harder now. And then…
“Let me in, Buck,” in a soft murmur. The finger nudges against his hole, slick and insistent. Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out, and, like magic, it slides in up to the first knuckle, spreading lube all around the walls just inside.
Clutching the table so he doesn’t let out a gasp, Bucky’s feet curl in the stirrups as Dr. Rogers pushes further in, twists his gloved hand around, and…
Oh fuck.
Yep, finds his prostate. That long finger strokes against it, curving upward and causing sparks of pleasure to prickle up Bucky’s spine. The doctor takes his time, feeling all around it, as much as he can touch.
Bucky’s dick throbs in response.
“Hmm,” Dr. Rogers’ voice sounds distant but with a tinge of concern. Bucky gets a little worried.
“Is everything OK?” he asks, somehow managing not to sound quite like he’s being taken apart, bit by bit.
“Probably,” says the doctor. “But I just want to make doubly sure. I’m going to add another finger now, you’ll feel some pressure.”
The first finger slides most of the way out, there’s another splorch from the lube bottle, and two digits slide back in. Bucky’s asshole contracts around them but it quickly opens up to let them all the way in. The doctor pumps his hand in and out, in and out, a few times before the fingers curl upward again.
And now there are two strong, thick fingers massaging over his prostate. Bucky can’t hold back a tiny groan as they probe, which is happily (hopefully) covered by the wet sounds of lube slurping around his hole.
It feels so fucking good. If the doctor keeps doing this for long enough, Bucky will…
“Well.” Dr. Rogers sounds a little less concerned. “I thought I felt a bit of swelling here…let me see…” his fingers rake over Bucky’s prostate again, scissoring as they work to feel as many sides of the sensitive gland as they can. Bucky’s dick twitches noticeably.
Beyond this… extremely thorough …prostate exam, is Dr. Rogers…opening him up?
Just wondering this makes Bucky’s walls contract around the doctor’s fingers. He already feels so full, and the constant pressure on that most sensitive spot inside is sending lightning radiating through his entire body.
“I’m not sure it’s really swelling,” the older man comments. “But if it’s OK with you, I just want to do a really thorough check. You can’t be too careful with this part of your body, right?”
His voice is almost chipper with this last question, but even so, Bucky can still hear the neediness in it. Almost like he’s holding himself strong against a tidal wave of lust.
Just like Bucky is.
“Uh huh,” Bucky croaks. With the hottest man he’s ever met giving him the world’s sexiest physical, he’s having trouble pretending to be unaffected at this point.
“OK, good,” says Dr. Rogers with perhaps more emphasis than he meant to. The lube bottle slurps again, and the fingers retract…but now there’s three of them.
Three of the good doctor’s thick fingers, breaching his hole all the way up to the knuckle and spreading out a bit before they curve to brush over his prostate again.
Jesus Christ.
Now Bucky’s certain. This isn’t just the most careful rectal exam he’s ever gotten.
This is foreplay.
His stomach pangs and his muscles stretch and contract all over his body. He can feel his nipples, already pointed nubs, harden up more. A gorgeous ache starts in his balls.
Now Dr. Rogers has given up most of the pretense of only doing this to make sure his prostate is OK and is actively pushing his fingers in and out of Bucky’s hole. As if to emphasize his, he mutters to himself, “So pretty, Buck, open up for me so good, so fucking good.”
Bucky lifts his head, ventures a look down between his legs, and there’s the doctor, his forehead, eyes, and lips shiny as he looks hungrily at where Bucky’s body is swallowing up his hand. Somehow this is what breaks the dyke and sends him right over the edge.
“Doctor,” he begs in a half-whisper. “Doctor, please. Please. ”
Those blue eyes swivel from his asshole to his face. “Please what, baby boy,” the older man rumbles. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
“Please, doctor,” Bucky whimpers. It’s urgent, but soft — because even in his current state, Bucky hasn’t forgotten he’s in public in his goddamn doctor’s office. “Need you…need you to…”
Need you to fuck me, he thinks but can’t quite put into words.
Dr. Rogers does it for him.
“Need me to fuck you, baby boy,” he hisses. “Isn’t that right?”
As he says fuck all three of his fingers plunge deep into Bucky’s hole, spreading lube all over his walls.
“Yes,” Bucky wails in enthusiastic response. His dick spasms and a perfectly round bead of pre-come surfaces at his slit.
The doctor sees this, eyes gleaming. “Oh Buck,” he moans. With one graceful motion he lifts himself off the stool and runs his tongue between Bucky’s balls and up his shaft, capturing that bead, shiny in the bright exam light, in his mouth before closing those lush lips over his crown.
Bucky’s breath hitches at the warm suction and he has to focus so he doesn’t come right then and there. But as good as the doctor’s mouth feels, he doesn’t keep sucking. Pulling off with a pop, he licks further up Bucky’s abs, bites his nipple, and brings his head up within a foot of Bucky’s face. Those blue-green irises are now almost completely swallowed up with dark desire.
“You don’t want just a mouth and some fingers, you need my cock inside you, dontcha Buck,” he whispers. He swivels his wrist and draws an ohhhhhh out of Bucky’s throat as he brushes again over Bucky’s prostate.
“Yes, oh god, yes, ” whines Bucky. He feels like electricity is running through his veins. The feeling only gets stronger when Dr. Rogers carefully pulls his fingers out of his ass and rights himself to quickly undo his belt and trousers, giving Bucky the first look at the other man’s cock.
It’s fucking huge.
It’s going to split him open.
He needs it right now.
“Doctor,” he whimpers.
“Call me Steve,” insists the other man. His lubed-up hand strokes his monster cock a few times before he lines up and pushes slowly into Bucky’s ass. Even with the prep, his hole resists the thick girth for a few seconds, but Dr. Rogers — Steve — is insistent, and finally his rim opens to let him in.
Oh my god.
The stretch is intense and it burns for a few seconds, but it soon morphs into the loveliest pressure. Steve keeps pushing in…and in…and in until he bottoms out, his trimmed pubic hair tickling a bit against Bucky’s asscheeks.
Bucky’s never taken a dick this big in his life, and it’s glorious. He’s full, so full. He can feel that fucker in his throat.
It feels so fucking good.
The doctor only pauses for five or ten seconds at the top, stripping off his gloves and rolling his hips as if to belabor the point that (a) not only is he fucking huge, (b) he’s gonna ruin Bucky, and on a medical exam table no less. Then he starts thrusting, holding Bucky’s pelvis tight so the table doesn’t make noise, making sure to drag that huge fucking cock across Bucky’s apparently completely healthy prostate with every stroke.
Bucky’s brain nearly shorts out from the pleasure.
He’s gonna have bruises.
He’s also going to die, but at least he’ll die happy.
“Steve,” he moans, moving his hands to grip those huge shoulders through the tight lab coat. The doctor grunts, pressing his fingertips harder into Bucky’s hipbones.
“So tight and warm, baby boy,” he hisses. “So tight, but this little hole is giving it up so good for me, let me right inside. It’s perfect.” Tearing his eyes away from Bucky’s, he stares down at where they’re joined, licks his lips. “So fucking beautiful, Buck, take my cock so well.”
With the older man’s gaze and the warmth of the bright exam light, Bucky feels like he’s on display, a specimen for the doctor to experiment with. Breath catching, his dick twitches between them, dripping more precome on his belly.
“You like that,” says Steve. “You like me looking at you, examining your gorgeous body, making sure everything works right before taking you apart. Don’t you?”
He pauses at the top, rolls his hips, draws his entire fat girth down across Bucky’s prostate. “Fuck yes,” Bucky groans in response.
The doctor resumes his regular stroking. “If we had time I’d get out the ultrasound machine, show you how you look on the inside with my cock rearranging your guts,” he whispers, gaze pivoting back up to Bucky’s face. “Can you imagine seeing my cock deep inside you?”
Steve doesn’t know this, but this is a very particular fantasy of Bucky’s. He might’ve watched all those ultrasound Pornhub videos and come hard every time.
“ Nghhh yes,” he gasps out. “I’d love that, love to see you splitting me in two…” As he says this, his heat starts to rise and his walls tighten around Steve’s dick in anticipation. The doctor picks this up in a flash.
“You gonna come for me now, baby boy?” he demands, speeding up his thrusts. “Gonna come on my cock without me even touching you?” He shifts his grip on Bucky’s hips, pulls them upward as he fucks into him harder.
The adjusted angle is perfect for a renewed assault on Bucky’s prostate, and it’s only a dozen strokes later when his balls tighten and he tenses, spurting all over himself with a groan. His throat closes up and his vision greys out at the edges; he’s never come so hard in his life.
“Oh fuck… Steve …” he croaks.
“Yeah, sugar,” growls the doctor, and keeps up the varsity-level fucking, prolonging Bucky’s orgasm and amplifying the aftershocks. Just as Bucky, sweating and writhing, starts to feel the first uncomfortable notes of overstimulation, Steve’s rhythm stutters and he stops at the top, mouth open.
“Bucky,” Steve gasps, and a few seconds later warm wetness sprays deep into Bucky’s guts, making his dick twitch one last time.
The doctor doesn’t move for a minute, his breath coming hard and fast against Bucky’s left shoulder. Then…
“Feels good, Buck, so good for me,” he murmurs, giving his hips a few more rolls for good measure and smiling at Bucky’s quiet squeak. He looks down again at where he’s still spearing Bucky on his softening cock before pulling out.
Bucky involuntarily clenches his pelvic floor, but it’s no use; a warm trickle starts to flow out of his hole. Steve sees this and chuckles.
“Can’t lose any of that,” he comments, voice lazy and teasing, and without warning disengages from Bucky’s grip and slides down so his face is once more between Bucky’s legs…
…and flicks up his tongue to catch the trickle…
…and fastens his mouth to Bucky’s rim, sucking avidly.
Good god in heaven.
Bucky shrieks aloud, covering his mouth with one hand to stop the noise and then biting on it as the doctor languorously sucks his own come out of him, licking and slurping as he goes. After a minute or two he spears Bucky on his long, strong tongue, making sure he cleans every drop out of his ass.
No one’s ever done this to Bucky before. It feels good. No, it feels amazing, and if Bucky could get hard again right now, he would. His dick twitches against his belly in a valiant effort.
And, as busy as he is, Steve notices, because of course he does.
“So beautiful, Buck,” he breathes out, and smacking his lips, he moves up a foot to kiss the crown of Bucky’s dick before methodically cleaning up that come as well, taking care of every spurt as he licks up Bucky’s torso.
It’s only once Steve’s done that he looms over Bucky’s body, prone and spent on the exam table, and for the first time, kisses him, mouth hard and open, making Bucky taste them both, salt and musk heavy on Steve’s tongue.
It’s filthy as hell.
It’s possessive as hell.
Bucky can’t get enough.
Moaning, he opens his own mouth, letting Steve in to devour him. And devour him he does, ravaging Bucky’s lips and tongue, licking over inside as if to say, this is mine. Bucky melts against the table, lets those huge hands roam everywhere over his body.
Voices down the hall bring them back to earth. Regretfully Steve pulls back, brushes one last intense kiss over Bucky’s mouth. His pupils have contracted somewhat and now Bucky can see the tiny golden fleck in the right one.
“You were such a good boy, Buck,” he whispers. “I’m so happy to give you a clean bill of health.” Bucky preens a little at the praise, warmth flowing through his gut.
Fluidly and gracefully for someone so large, the doctor eases himself off of Bucky and the table, tucks his cock back into his briefs, zips up his pants, straightens out his lab coat.
“Take your time getting dressed,” he says softly, and with a wink he’s gone, pulling aside the privacy curtain and shutting the door behind him with a gentle click.
Bucky lies on the table, limbs sprawled out, staring at the ceiling. His entire body feels liquid, like he’s melting into the table. He’s never had sex like that in his life, never been taken so forcefully and thoroughly, never been filled up so well. And by his doctor, no less. OK, the substitute for his doctor, but still.
It was so wrong, but it was so right.
After a few minutes, the sweat has dried on Bucky’s skin and he starts to get cold (again) in the Arctic A/C of the exam room. Sitting up, he wrangles the hospital gown, now wrinkled and a little damp, back around his body in an effort to warm up a little.
He’s just thinking about how, despite Dr. Rogers’ — Steve’s — post-coital clean-up efforts, he’s still a little sticky and should see if the exam room has any wet wipes, when there’s a quiet knock on the door and a familiar head of greying, curly hair peeks in.
“Hi, Bucky.” Dr. Banner sounds harried and apologetic. “I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting so long,” he says. “There was an emergency with another patient and I had to take them over to Brooklyn Hospital Center. As I was leaving, I asked Natasha — that’s the nurse filling in for Jen while she’s on maternity leave — to tell you to reschedule with the receptionist, but I guess signals got crossed.”
Among other things, thinks Bucky, feeling his face turn red.
“No worries,” he says quickly, casually rubbing at his lower abs through the gown in a last-ditch attempt to get rid of any remaining evidence of his recent adventure.
Whether Steve was successful in cleaning up the mess he left in Bucky’s ass is anyone’s guess. Bucky’s hole twitches just thinking about that. He forces him to focus on his doctor.
“It was fine,” Bucky goes on. “Dr. Rogers was here, and he…”
“Dr. Rogers?” Banner breaks in, frowning in confusion. “We don’t have anyone by that name in the practice. Occasionally Dr. Ross and Dr. Cho will fill in for me, but they’re both women, and neither of them are here today…”
A cold shiver crawls its way down Bucky’s spine and settles in his gut.
What the fuck.