good old-fashioned lover boy
Jan. 8th, 2024 10:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
semi_stableThe last thing that Bucky remembers with any clarity is the harsh burn of cheap whiskey in his throat as Steve walked away from him after another failed double date. Trying to set Steve up with girls made him feel a bit like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a mountain, like he's a little insane, trying the same thing over and over again and hoping for different results.
He'd tried again, and really thought he had something this time. Brenda was a small bookish girl, with glasses and a bouncy red ponytail, and her friend Claire was known for being, well-- money spent buying her drinks wasn't going to go to waste, from what he's heard. Bucky had charmed them both into coming to the dance hall and then drug Steve along with a strong arm around his shoulders, like he had so many times before, but it didn't matter.
Steve's lack of confidence when it came to women was all too apparent, especially to the girls that Bucky tried to set him up with, and he always threw in the towel before anything could ever happen. For some reason, Bucky kept trying. He was Sisyphus and Steve's virginity was that fucking boulder.
Bucky would take it himself, except that wasn't an option. It wouldn't ever be an option, despite what his traitorous imagination got up to.
So, Steve left and Bucky drank. He danced with Brenda and with Claire, then drank some more. And then more, because he's twenty years old and what was left of his meager paycheck wass burning a hole in his pocket, and he doesn't have any damn sense yet.
That led to the present moment-- Bucky waking up in a very comfortable bed with a dull ache in his head and a mouth full of cotton. He groans and rolls away from the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, curling up under the covers to ward off the chill. He stays like that for a few moments until his eyes pop open and he pushes himself up onto his elbow, scanning the unfamiliar bedroom. It looks like something out of picture show, all plush velvet and gold accents, and Bucky frowns. As far as he knew, Brenda and Claire were working class like him. He'd picked them up at a brownstone just down the street, as modest and plain as his own home.
The bedding is plush and soft, and Bucky lifts the duvet to confirm that he at least has underwear on. It wouldn't be the first time that he's woken up somewhere strange after a rough night, but never somewhere like this. A glance next to him tells him that he didn't sleep in the bed alone, given the rumpled bedding and the dented pillow. He reaches out to put his hand on the sheets, finding them still warm, and then lifts his head when he hears approaching footsteps.
Morning afters are always kind of awkward and Bucky sighs, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face.
"Here we go."
He'd tried again, and really thought he had something this time. Brenda was a small bookish girl, with glasses and a bouncy red ponytail, and her friend Claire was known for being, well-- money spent buying her drinks wasn't going to go to waste, from what he's heard. Bucky had charmed them both into coming to the dance hall and then drug Steve along with a strong arm around his shoulders, like he had so many times before, but it didn't matter.
Steve's lack of confidence when it came to women was all too apparent, especially to the girls that Bucky tried to set him up with, and he always threw in the towel before anything could ever happen. For some reason, Bucky kept trying. He was Sisyphus and Steve's virginity was that fucking boulder.
Bucky would take it himself, except that wasn't an option. It wouldn't ever be an option, despite what his traitorous imagination got up to.
So, Steve left and Bucky drank. He danced with Brenda and with Claire, then drank some more. And then more, because he's twenty years old and what was left of his meager paycheck wass burning a hole in his pocket, and he doesn't have any damn sense yet.
That led to the present moment-- Bucky waking up in a very comfortable bed with a dull ache in his head and a mouth full of cotton. He groans and rolls away from the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, curling up under the covers to ward off the chill. He stays like that for a few moments until his eyes pop open and he pushes himself up onto his elbow, scanning the unfamiliar bedroom. It looks like something out of picture show, all plush velvet and gold accents, and Bucky frowns. As far as he knew, Brenda and Claire were working class like him. He'd picked them up at a brownstone just down the street, as modest and plain as his own home.
The bedding is plush and soft, and Bucky lifts the duvet to confirm that he at least has underwear on. It wouldn't be the first time that he's woken up somewhere strange after a rough night, but never somewhere like this. A glance next to him tells him that he didn't sleep in the bed alone, given the rumpled bedding and the dented pillow. He reaches out to put his hand on the sheets, finding them still warm, and then lifts his head when he hears approaching footsteps.
Morning afters are always kind of awkward and Bucky sighs, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face.
"Here we go."
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Date: 2024-06-30 02:34 am (UTC)He’s nervous, but it’s the giddy sort of nerves. He’s excited and curious, and this is how it should be.
“Versitile,” Bucky repeats, brows lifting once he processing the meaning. His cock twitches at the thought of Loki behind him, pressing into him nice and slow, but then Loki is sinking to his knees in a move so sinuous and arousing that Bucky can hardly even think.
“Wow,” he breathes out, meeting Loki’s blue eyes. He reaches out a hand, hesitating before making contact with Loki, but then remembers that he doesn’t have to hold himself back. He smiles and puts his hand on the side of Loki’s face, tracing over his sharp cheekbone and then carding through his dark hair. “I’m not sure that I could have dreamed you up if I tried.”
no subject
Date: 2024-07-04 01:12 am (UTC)He swallowed, throat flexing around his length, then pulled off just as slowly.
Was he showing off? Of course he was.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-06 06:46 am (UTC)Loki pulls off just as smoothly and if Bucky had his wits about him, he might make a joke about how smug Loki looks. But right now, he thinks Loki has every reason to be just that. His knees feel a little like jelly and he sucks in a breath, fingers tangling in Loki's hair.
"Okay, point proven. You're a god," he pants out, grinning as he thumbs at the wet corner of Loki's mouth. He feels almost giddy, and it takes him a moment to place the dizzying feeling as something like relief. It's okay for him to just enjoy the moment, and for what might be the very first time, he doesn't feel any shame in it.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-12 02:08 am (UTC)He had a point to make. Perhaps it was cruel to ruin him for all other men at such a tender age, but Loki could be alarming selfish. Besides, it was great fun, watching the increasing wonder on Bucky's face, and hearing the sounds that seemed to come from him unbidden.
Loki took him deep, over and over, setting a pace designed purely to bring him to the brink.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-12 08:32 pm (UTC)They’re not crammed into the back of his car or hidden away somewhere semi-public. They don’t have to worry about getting caught, so Bucky lets out a loud, stuttering moan as his fingers twist in Loki’s soft hair. That feels like a release in and of itself, and once he opens his mouth and lets sound out, it’s hard to stop himself.
“That’s so fucking good,” he breathes out, lavishing Loki with praise. Loki is the one on his knees but Bucky feels like the one in worship, pupils blown and cheeks ruddy as he stares down at Loki’s red lips and hallowed cheeks. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
Bucky holds out for as long as he can, never wanting it to end, but soon enough his knees go dangerously weak and the pressure behind his navel grows and grows until he can’t fight back any longer.
“I’m close,” he says with a sharp inhale, tugging at Loki’s hair harder than he intends to. His stomach tenses and he shakes all over, holding back long enough for Loki to decide for himself what he wants to do because even now, while it feels like his brain is leaking out of his ears, he wants to be a gentleman.
Loki deserves that. Loki deserves the fucking world.