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Slouching along down the near-deserted stretch of desert road, Bucky didn't much expect to get a ride. Hardly any cars came out this way, and those that did were packed with families headed to the Grand Canyon. None of them were going to pick up a dusty hitchhiker, especially not one with dirty, matted hair and torn clothing like his.
Still, when he heard the rumble of a big truck behind him, he turned and stuck out his thumb.
The big yellow Ryder truck came to a stop a few feet past him, and he jogged over and craned his neck to see through the rolled down passenger window. He caught sight of a blue trucker cap, then the door swung open to reveal the hottest trucker Bucky had ever seen.
Sure he had the requisite plaid shirt and jeans and a five o'clock shadow, but he also had a jawline like a movie star and biceps that strained his sleeves. "Need a ride?" the trucker asked.
"Yeah," Bucky said, and climbed aboard, slinging his backpack up onto the seat.
"Where you headed?"
"As far as you can take me," Bucky replied as the truck rolled back onto the highway.
"Phoenix?"
"Sounds good."
Once they had reached cruising speed, the trucker said, "I'm Steve."
"Bucky." He knocked on the back of the truck cab behind him. "Whatcha transporting here? Weed?"
Steve laughed. "No! No. I, uh, I'm - I'm, uh..."
As Steve struggled to recall what was in the back of his truck, Bucky tried to keep a smile from twisting his lips. "Sounds empty back there," he said finally.
"Yeah!" Steve said. "Yes. It is empty. I'm just driving this truck back to get restocked."
"You sure? Maybe you have a nice little murder room set up in there. Maybe you're a serial killer."
"No!" Steve laughed again, though he sounded scandalized. "No. I'm not a serial killer, I swear."
Bucky raised his eyebrows. "You never can be too sure, out on the road. Lotsa weirdos out there. Perverts." He eyed Steve's tight jeans. "How long have you been a trucker?"
"Couple of years," Steve said easily. "Gets lonely, riding these roads."
At that moment, as Steve waxed poetic about the solitary life of a trucker, Bucky recognized the song playing on the radio: that one where the woman picks up a hitchhiker and spends the night with him in some hotel so she can have a baby with her impotent husband.
"Big fan of rocker chicks?" Bucky asked with a smirk, gesturing to the radio.
Steve blushed. "It's good driving music."
He leaned forward to skip ahead on the CD, but Bucky slapped his hand back. "Nah, I like it," he said, then crooned along with the singer, "All I wanna do is make loooove to you..."
Steve hit the button anyway. His face was bright red above the collar of his plaid shirt.
Bucky did his best not to laugh at the next song, too.
"Well, I'm running down the road
tryin' to loosen my load
I've got seven women on my mind..."
The miles hummed by under the tires, lulling them into a peaceful silence, Steve tapping his fingers to the music. Bucky lay his head back and pondered the flat horizon for a time before he suddenly asked, "You got a woman back home?"
"Finest damn woman you ever seen," Steve said.
"Reeeeally?" Bucky drew out the word. "What's she look like?"
"Oh, you know... Blonde hair, long. Long blonde hair. Nice big eyes. Giant tits."
Bucky held his fist against his mouth to hold in a guffaw of laughter. "Yeah?" he choked out.
"Yes," Steve said. "What? You don't think I could have a girl that hot?"
By now Bucky had regained his composure. "Oh, I'm sure you could," he said smoothly. "Handsome guy like you. You could have anyone you wanted."
"Could I now." Steve gave him the side eye.
"Good-looking guy like you..." Bucky drawled, letting his eyes roam up and down the length of Steve's firm-looking body. "Mmm." He almost licked his lips, then thought he might be laying it on too thick. He returned to looking out the window at the amazing sunset happening and sang along with "Turn the Page" (On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha) and "Ventura Highway" (Alligator lizards in the air, in the aaaaairrrr).
It wasn't more than an hour on the road when Steve said, "I'm gonna pull in for the night," tipping his hat and nodding at the motel coming up on the horizon. The neon light that advertised VACANCY were visible.
Bucky just looked at him with hooded eyes.
"You, ah, want me to drop you off, or maybe you need someplace to stay? I don't mind having a bit a company." Steve said it lightly, like they'd build a pillow fort or something.
"Sure," Bucky said just as demurely.
The truck rumbled into the parking lot, the empty rear end bouncing over the pavement. As Steve headed to the main office, he said to Bucky, "You'd best stay here. Might charge us double if they catch wind, ya hear?"
Bucky shrugged. "I'll just have a smoke."
Steve frowned a little, but turned and walked off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Bucky drawled, "Paaardner," and laughed to himself. They were in Arizona, not Texas for chrissakes.
He barely got the damn cigarette lit before Steve was walking back, jingling the key. Damn, that walk had sex rolled all over it. A little bow-legged, those tight jeans with the big belt buckle. Bucky coughed on his smoke and struggled to get a nice lungful by the time Steve had returned.
"How'd it go?" he asked, a thick plume of smoke escaping his mouth.
"No smoking in the rooms," Steve said.
"All right." Bucky dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot heel. "No need to get your panties in a twist."
Steve didn't respond to that, just reached into the truck cab and grabbed his bag. "Stay there until I tell you," he said, walking toward the door marked with a number 12, looking toward the office the whole time. He got the door unlocked, opened it, then turned to Bucky and gestured him in.
Bucky smiled at the subterfuge, weak as it was, but jogged a little until he was safely inside.
“Nice joint,” Bucky said, grimacing at the outdated brown carpet and olive green wallpaper. His eyes landed on the bedspreads – a hideous shade of orange. “Looks like the seventies threw up in here.”
“Seems pretty clean though.” Steve had dropped his bag on the floor by the bathroom and flicked on the light. The buzz was amplified by the tiled room – brown tiles, obviously, to match, but yes, it did look clean – and Steve quickly shut it off. “Doesn’t smell.”
“I suppose you’ve stayed in a lot of shitholes on the road.” Bucky sat down on the one bed, facing the television, an old bulb model he wasn’t sure would work.
“Yep, lotsa places worse than this.”
“You one a them undercover cops?” Bucky asked suddenly.
“No, why would you ask that?”
“Look, you got an empty truck, picked up a hitchhiker, you don’t look like no trucker I ever seen, so I’m askin’, is all,” Bucky said.
Steve just shook his head. “Naw, I’m just a trucker,” he repeated.
“Not a cop?”
“No!” Steve threw up his hands.
“Good,” Bucky said lightly. He stood up, arched his back a little, his gaze turned smoldering. “Just had to check before I let you know my company ain’t free.”
Steve’s mouth dropped open. “Wha-what?”
“Look, road gets lonely. I’ll do whatever you want to make you feel less lonely, yeah. But it’s gonna cost ya.”
“What, giving you a ride ain’t enough payment? Don’t that count as somethin’? I was gonna ask if you wanna order a pizza. See, I’ll buy you dinner too.” Steve smiled winningly, even though he looked more nervous than before.
“Well, sure, if you wanna cuddle and watch movies all night, but—” Bucky patted the side of the television, which made a hollow thump. “I’m not sure this thing’s working.”
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed and Bucky couldn’t help but notice the set of his body. Look at me, it said. Don’t you wanna fuck this?
Bucky did, but he had to play this little game first. He could play it just as well as Steve, if not better. He cocked a hip, bit his lip, and waited.
“Fine, so you’re a whore.” Steve reached for the wallet filling his back pocket, pulled out a twenty, and tossed it on the bed. “What’ll that get me?”
Bucky raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’ll suck your cock, but you can’t touch me. And I won’t swallow.”
With a shift in his weight, Bucky knew even that suggestion had turned Steve on. The trucker pulled another twenty out of the wallet and dropped it on the bed next to the first. “And that?”
“For that I’ll swallow.”
“Still no touching?” Steve sounded outraged.
Bucky shook his head with a smug smile.
“You’re a hitchhiker,” Steve complained. “I didn’t fucking call an escort service.” He pulled out two more twenties, threw one of them down and looked at Bucky expectantly.
“I’ll let you eat me out for that.”
“And I get to fucking touch you, then, is that right?” Steve threw down the other twenty. He stood with hips forward, so Bucky could see the total lack of any belly hanging over his belt buckle. Hard as rock abs. “Eighty dollars there. What’ll you do for eighty?”
Bucky smirked and leaned an elbow on the TV. “I got a couple different options to choose from.”
“I’m all ears.” Steve licked his lips.
“Well, option one. Straight blow job. You fuck my face however you want. I’ll swallow, I’ll finger your ass if you want, too.” Bucky could see the outline of Steve’s dick, hard in his jeans. He pushed himself off the TV and sauntered toward him.
“Option two. I’ll rim the shit out of your asshole. Fingering if you want it, or any toys you mighta brought along.” He nodded at Steve’s black bag. “One hour or less, I’ll jerk you off if you don’t come before.”
Before Steve could ask, Bucky said, “Option three.” He moved closer, walking slow and rolling his hips. “You suck me off.”
“In that case you oughta pay me,” Steve said. His eyes were roaming all over Bucky’s body as he walked. “Any other options?”
“For a hundred you get all three.” Bucky smiled smugly.
Steve licked his lips again and looked into his wallet. He pulled out a few bills and added them to the pile on the bed. Bucky smile melted away as he stared at the three hundred-dollar bills. “Would that be enough to do anything I goddamn want to you?” Steve purred. “All night long?”
Bucky could barely tear his eyes away from the money. He licked his own lips and forced himself to speak. “No S&M shit,” he said. “No actual shit, either. I don’t do that kinda stuff.” Finally he looked at Steve.
“So the handcuffs are out?” Steve asked.
“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Unless you want to wear them.”
“But anything else? Anything else I want, I can do to you?”
His muscles quivered. “Anything you want.”
Steve scooped the money up from the bed and fanned it in Bucky’s face, then placed it on top of the television. He moved over to his bag and unzipped it. “How about blindfolds? Anal plugs? Light spanking?”
Bucky’s throat felt dry. “Yeah, that stuff’s okay.” His dick already hard, he sat down on the bed and spread his legs apart. “Whatever you want.” He wanted Steve to kiss him first. Please let him kiss me first. Fuck, those lips.
“Just want to know the limits.” Steve pulled out something that rattled. “Beads?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Next Steve pulled out a dildo that was as big around as his wrist. “This too big?” Before Bucky could answer, Steve flicked a switch and it began to vibrate.
Bucky swallowed. “S’fine.”
“Nipple clamps? Ball gag?”
Now Bucky shook his head. “No.”
Steve shrugged. “I guess that’s about it then.” He stood and turned around.
Bucky waited. Please kiss me.
At first, when Steve walked toward him, Bucky thought that was exactly what Steve was going to do. He even bent down near Bucky’s face. Then he pulled out his phone and put it on the nightstand. “I got the perfect playlist for this.”
His lips close enough to Steve’s neck to kiss it, Bucky held back, waiting. He was the whore. He did what he was told. So he didn’t initiate anything, instead turning his mind to wondering what kind of playlist Steve had cooked up for sex. The trucker road trip playlist had been pretty good, but was Steve just into classic rock, or would he prefer ballads for the bedroom?
When the heavy bass beat of Ginuwine’s “Pony” came through the mini speakers Steve had attached to his iPhone, Bucky had no idea what to think. Yeah, this was definitely sex music.
Steve stood up and ushered Bucky to his feet. “Strip for me,” he said, and threw himself into the spot Bucky had previously occupied, kicking back with his boots on and his arms back behind his head.
That smile on Steve’s face was so smug it made Bucky a little self-conscious.
“Come on, dance for me. You said you’d do whatever I wanted,” Steve reminded him in a sing-song voice. “I want you to dance.”
So Bucky started swaying his hips a little in time to the music. He closed his eyes and nodded his head, trying to get into it and not look like a grinning doofus with zero rhythm.
He didn’t have much to work with, clothing-wise: a t-shirt, his jeans, a belt. His fucking boots. Couldn’t take off half his clothes with the boots on, so he lunged one foot up on the bed and made little show of untying the laces, smirking at Steve and winking and – why the hell not – sucking on a finger while he pulled the first one off.
When it came to his socks, he lay back on the bed pin-up style and tugged them off, showing how flexible his legs were. He helicoptered the dirty sock in the air before throwing it on the floor.
Steve laughed appreciatively, stopping when Bucky began playing with the hem of his t-shirt. He would lift it a little then push it back down, feeling himself up along the way. At one point he just moved his hands up under his shirt and playing with his nipples, smirking when Steve bit his lip and adjusted himself.
Turning around, he moved his ass like he was grinding up on someone as he inched the white cotton t-shirt up his back. The bass beat had a nice slow grind for Bucky to work with, and even though it would have felt better to grind up on Steve, the friction in his jeans was doing pretty well by his dick. He glanced over his shoulder at Steve with half-closed eyes before he tugged the t-shirt up over his shoulders and off. This article he flung in Steve’s face before climbing onto the bed and standing over the trucker shirtless.
Steve had a wide, lascivious grin on his face looking up at Bucky’s naked torso, but his eyes drifted down almost immediately, to the belt buckle Bucky was playing with. He slid the leather strip through his hand, tightened the buckle slightly before letting it out and inching it out of his belt loops in time to the music.
By the toys in Steve’s bag, Bucky knew Steve had a liking for some S&M stuff, and he played with the leather belt, dragging it around his neck, letting it dig into his skin. He caressed himself with the leather strip before tossing it to the floor.
Now he was really enjoying himself. He rolled his body, loving how Steve’s eyes roamed over him, lingered on the cock pushing at the fly of his jeans. Pushing at the waistband, he shoved his pants down as far as they would go without unbuttoning them. No sign of his underwear just yet, only a nice view of his happy trail, the cut muscles of Bucky’s abdomen pointing where to look. He stepped forward on the bed, put his hands against the wall, and moved his hips in Steve’s face. Steve would be able to tell just how hard Bucky was.
And yet Steve looked up at Bucky’s face, blissed out and grinning.
So Bucky stepped back and popped the button on his pants, and opened the zipper by pulling the fabric apart, almost like he was going to rip it open.
Now Steve would be able to see what Bucky had on underneath.
As Bucky inched the denim over his hips, he watched with satisfaction as the smile drifted from Steve’s face. His tongue snuck out to moisten his lips as he stared at the black leather thong that was soon the only thing Bucky was wearing.
On his knees now, Bucky crawled toward Steve, still working his hips to the music. He stopped when his face was inches from Steve’s. It was hard for the trucker to pull his eyes up to meet Bucky’s. Bucky waited, smirking, hips wagging.
He needs to kiss me.
And he did, slamming forward with his mouth already open. Bucky let his tongue in, thrust his own tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s hand on the back of his head, he couldn’t have pulled away if he tried, and he didn’t want to. Their tongues beat at each other until the song died down, then another song, equally bass heavy, came on, and the hand that wasn’t pressing their faces together reached down and thumbed lightly over the leather.
Bucky moaned into Steve’s mouth.
“You get this turned on by all your customers?” Steve asked, his breath hot against Bucky’s face. “Or is it just me?”
Bucky panted at that light little pressure on his dick. “You’re the hottest trucker piece of ass I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“You like my ass, huh.” Steve’s were spoken into Bucky’s stubbly cheek. “You haven’t even seen it.”
“Show me,” Bucky begged.
Steve released Bucky’s head and lay back down on the bed. “Grab the lube from the table over there.” Bucky did, glancing back once to see the way Steve was staring at his ass. The yellow tube said it was “warming.” He turned back to Steve.
“Now get on all fours, your ass facing me,” Steve instructed, gesturing for Bucky to position himself at the end of the bed. Bucky did so, looking curiously over his shoulder. Steve still had all his clothes on. “I want you to get yourself ready for me.”
“You’re just gonna watch?” Bucky asked.
Steve leaned forward and slapped Bucky’s ass. “I’m not paying you to ask questions.” Bucky might have taken offense if Steve wasn’t smirking the whole time.
“All right,” Bucky drawled, and kept looking over his shoulder while he squeezed some lube into his left hand. It started warming up right away. He reached down between his legs. “Uh, you want me to take off—”
Steve reached up and plucked at the thong. “Hnnh,” Bucky groaned, his dick getting squeezed as Steve moved the thong aside.
“Now,” said Steve. “Stop talking.”
With that instruction, Bucky ducked his head down and started fingering himself. He started slow, caressing all along the crack. The area flushed warm and sensitive all at once, and he popped one finger inside his asshole, pushing it in and out and working it up and down.
Steve wasn’t moving at all. Every now and then Bucky had to turn around and sneak a glance at the trucker, that fucking hat still on his head, shirt still buttoned, as Bucky knelt there in nothing but a thong and now two fingers up his ass. He hadn’t imagined it would be quite like this, and it made him feel vulnerable... yet somehow his body was translating that feeling as arousal.
It took a bit of maneuvering to get his hand in the right position to hit his prostate. He had to strain to get his fingers in deep enough. He lowered his chest to the mattress to get the angle right, and then – fuck – he hit it, and instinctively he started thrusting his hips back, fucking himself with his fingers.
“Uhn, uhn,” he panted with each thrust.
Steve’s cool hand patted his ass, stopped him in his rhythm. “Slow down, killer,” Steve purred. “Don’t get too excited just yet.”
“You want me to slow down?”
Instead of answering, Steve hooked a finger under the waistband of the thong and snapped it against Bucky’s ass. Bucky still had his fingers inside, and he pulsed them in and out slowly, focusing more on the way Steve was breathing against his ass. There was the tiny pressure of his lips, then Steve pushed Bucky’s ass apart with his hands. “You clean down there, you dirty whore?”
Bucky hissed into the blankets. “Yeah, a course. You wanna wash me yourself to make sure?”
“I trust you,” Steve purred. “Now open up for me.”
His ass stretched tight, Bucky spread his fingers apart. Steve’s stubble raked the tender flesh there, but it was a sweetly painful sensation, and Bucky started panting in anticipation.
“More.” Steve’s breath kissed his asshole. He splayed his fingers as far as he could go. Sweet Jesus, Steve’s tongue flickered between them, dipping down into the hole. Bucky groaned, curled his toes into the mattress. “Mmm,” Steve purred, lapping around Bucky’s fingers. After only a minute of this, Steve withdrew and ran his hands over the roundness of Bucky’s bottom.
“Can you fit your whole fist in there?” Steve asked.
“Never tried it,” Bucky said. He had returned to working his fingers in and out.
“A filthy little whore like you, gettin’ off on one touch from me? Hmm, seems like that’s something you ought to try.” Bucky felt the mattress shift as Steve got up, and he lifted his head. “Keep going,” Steve said, gently pushing Bucky’s face back down, holding it there until Bucky stopped straining upward. “That’s a good little slut. You get that tight hole nice and loose for me.”
Staring at the awful wallpaper, unable to see what Steve was doing, Bucky listened to what sounded like Steve kicking off his boots and undoing the snaps of his shirt. “No fair,” Bucky panted.
“What’s that? You wanted to watch me give you a striptease?” Steve asked coyly. “You got any money?”
“Three hunn’erd an’ eighty dollars,” Bucky moaned.
Steve laughed. Some light article of clothing hit the floor, then Steve was stealing the lube from where Bucky had dropped it on the bed. As he walked around, Steve let his hand drift along Bucky’s contorted back, over the straining muscles. Then the mattress dipped as Steve climbed back on. The squelching sound of the lube in Steve’s hands made Bucky work his hand faster. He tried to slip in his pinky finger to get all his fingers in there.
“You ready?”
The words pushed out of Bucky’s mouth. “Give it to me.”
Steve yanked Bucky’s fingers from his ass, guided them down to touch the hardness between Steve’s legs. Bucky grabbed on, eager to have something to hold onto. Then, holding Bucky’s hips steady with one hand, Steve started pushing his fingers in.
“Breathe, baby,” Steve crooned to him, working those fingers in slow, stretching Bucky wide open. Bucky closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. It meant letting go of Steve’s dick, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He was humming to Bucky, “Yeah, that’s it, you can take it all, can’t you, big boy,” and bit by bit Steve worked all four fingers in there, then his thumb too. The fingers moved inside, and Bucky groaned at how much of Steve’s hand was inside of him. “Nice and relaxed, baby, there you go.” Up to his knuckles now.
Bucky’s eyelids fluttered. He exhaled, took in a deep breath, slowly let it out. “All the way,” he whispered into the blankets.
One little push, and he felt his asshole close up a little over the top of Steve’s hand.
It felt so good to be filled up like that. As Steve moved his hand slightly, Bucky sucked in a breath and moaned. No time at all it seemed before Steve was pulling his hand out. “Fuck yeah,” Steve said, and kissed the base of his spine. “Yeah.”
Bucky rolled over and slowly blinked at Steve. His chest rose and fell as sweat dried on his skin. All he could see was Steve, sitting there almost naked and erect, lazily playing with his dick. The only thing he wore was that plaid cowboy shirt, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up. “That feel good, baby?” Steve drawled.
He nodded.
“When you’re ready, you’re gonna come over here and eat my dick. You want that? You wanna choke me down?”
He nodded again.
“Whenever you’re ready. I got all night.”
It took a few minutes, and a new song pumping through the little speakers. It took Steve leaning forward and running one hand up the inside of his thigh, grabbing his dick in its leather package. Then he was ready. He rolled over and stood up, feeling unmoored, then he gripped Steve’s legs and gave it all he had.
He knew a lot of tricks, interesting things to do with his tongue, and he did them all between bouts of taking the length, pushing it as far as it would go and sucking it off. Gripping Steve’s ass around his hips, he plunged into it with everything he had. A solid ten minutes and two more songs he spent loving Steve’s cock with his lips, his tongue, his mouth, popping his finger up Steve’s ass just for variety. Steve was breathing hard and murmuring sweet nothings like, “You got a purdy mouth,” and “You like suckin’ cock, doncha.” When Steve called him a little slut, he arched his back and lifted his ass into the air.
Around the time Bucky’s jaw started to hurt, that was when Steve wrapped his fingers into Bucky’s hair and held his head still so he could thrust into his throat. Bucky did his best to keep his throat open and not gag, to breathe. It helped to look up and see the way Steve’s eyes were half-closed and his mouth open and panting and know he was getting Steve off.
But Steve didn’t come, he stopped when he felt Bucky start to gag more out of exhaustion than anything else. He eased himself from between Bucky’s lips and pushed the sweaty clumps of hair from Bucky’s face. “You want me to fuck your face like that again?” he asked.
“I’m yours tonight,” Bucky said, licking his lips. “You do what you want to me.”
“But did you like it?” Steve pressed.
Bucky pushed his face up against Steve’s. “I’ll like anything you do to me.”
Something passed between the two of them, some unspoken communication. Then Steve kissed him, and he kissed back hard, and for while the two of them tangled together, kicking up the brown blankets and grappling with each other in what might have looked to an outsider like a struggle for dominance. Finally Steve had wrestled Bucky down on the mattress, pinning his wrists, so that he could kiss him or not kiss him, shove his tongue down Bucky’s throat or hover just out of Bucky’s reach. Bucky strained for him, then flopped his head down and pouted.
“I always thought hookers didn’t do kissing,” Steve said, giving Bucky a suspicious look.
“I do what you want. You wanna kiss, you can kiss me.” Bucky rolled his hips up, touching the leather to the tip of Steve’s naked cock.
Steve bit his lip and groaned. “Fuck,” he said.
“What do I gotta do to make you come?” Bucky said.
“I only come but once a night.” Steve lowered his face and licked the side of Bucky’s face. “It’s like that tantric shit, you know. Only once, but the fucking most amazing orgasm you could ever imagine.”
“I’m so hard,” Bucky whined, pushing his hips up again. “Fuck me.”
“I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready,” Steve promised. He let Bucky up and rolled off the bed abruptly. “Lay down on your back.”
Bucky did as he was told and watched as Steve pulled the blindfold from the items in his bag. He squirmed a little in excitement.
“Lift your head.” Bucky did, and Steve slid the satin material of the blindfold over his head. Immediately all light disappeared, and Bucky felt his other senses awaken. Steve was standing up, away from him, when he said, “Put your hands behind your head and leave them there.”
He did, clasping them so he wouldn’t be tempted to disobey Steve’s instructions. Every nerve ending was awake. He felt all the little hairs on his body alert and standing on end. His nipples hard. His dick even harder.
When Steve finally touched him, he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was something soft, light. A feather? “I’m ticklish,” he said into the void.
“Are you now.” Steve’s voice a low, throaty growl. The feather skimmed around near his armpit and down his side, and Bucky wriggled out of the way, keeping his arms behind his head.
The feather traced across his collarbone, made its way down his sternum to his naval. Little roundabout his belly button, then back up. The flat of it passed over one of his nipples. Bucky swallowed. The touch was so light, and the feather flicked back and forth until his back was arched as much as it could.
Flickering away, the feather disappeared for long enough that Bucky started to get hard anticipating where it would land.
Turned out to be the instep of his foot. He jerked his leg. “No fair,” he said. “I told you I’m ticklish.”
A low chuckle from Steve.
The feather whispered along his knee, tickling among his leg hair. He almost jerked his leg again, but the feather moved up, hitting the sensitive, hairless part of his upper thigh. The inner thigh. A little whine escaped his throat as the feather traveled what felt like mere centimeters away from the edges of the thong. Along the low, low waist. Around to the other side, making its way back down his other inner thigh.
By now his mouth was open and panting.
That light pressure gone, and he could feel the air moving as Steve stepped closer. The feather brushed up under his chin, touched the divot under his bottom lip. Bucky grinned, only to have his lips pressed against his teeth by Steve’s for just a moment, and Steve walked away.
Bucky shifted his legs. Shit, he wanted to touch himself, relieve some of that pressure, and yet the thrill of what Steve might do to him next kept his hands firmly behind his head.
A click and the low hum of a little motor filled the silence of the room.
Bucky clenched his ass cheeks together, all his muscles together vibrating with excitement. He started lifting his hips and rubbing his back against the bedspread, wanting the goddamn leather thong off his body already. His dick was sweating and leaking and "Oh, god," he gasped as the latex tip of the vibrator touched just below his nipple.
"Keep those hands where they are," Steve reminded him in a sing-song voice.
The vibrator pressed harder. Bucky had only glimpsed the thing, the huge realistically-shaped dildo, and in the darkness he imagined it as Steve's dick, pushing and prodding and -
"Ow," Bucky hissed as the vibrator pinched the sensitive skin.
The whirring stopped. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Bucky said. "Keep going, I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Yes." He tried to sense where Steve was standing and strained his body in that direction. "Keep going. Please."
Steve's hand fumbled the blindfold up, and Bucky was blinded. Squinting, he saw Steve looking at him, a concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows.
Now that Bucky knew exactly where Steve was, he could do a little sit up and kiss Steve. "I'm okay," he said again and flopped back down. He took one hand from the sweaty locked grip he'd woven into his own hair and pulled the blindfold back on. Hands back behind his head. Waiting. Dick aching.
"Okay." But Steve did turn the vibrator back on, not right away. Instead he leaned down, the flaps of his shirt brushing against Bucky's chest, and kissed him.
Well, that made Bucky even hornier than the vibrator.
Of course, that was before Steve started tugging down the thong. "Yes," Bucky said. "Yes, yes, finally."
The cool air hit him and yet he was still hard a rock. Steve was going so slowly, dragging that leather over him. Then a click and a whirr and Steve slipped the magnum-sized dildo between Bucky's ass cheeks. He was still so loose from the fisting that there was no resistance. Bucky's knees drew up, his toes curling. "Ah, fuck," he managed to say.
The dildo pulsed languidly inside of him. Steve worked it in and out. "You like that? Dirty hooker like you, you like 'em big, huh?"
"Yes," Bucky gasped. "Fuck, that's good. I want your dick in there too. Your fucking horse-sized cock, fuck."
"Not yet," Steve said, and pushed the dildo all the way in before clicking it up to a higher speed. Then he climbed between Bucky's legs and took Bucky by the base of his dick and swallowed him up.
Bucky could no longer form words. He let out moans and utterations of pure nonsense as his body writhed around the vibrations inside of him and the wet pleasure trailing up and down his dick and with a final cry, Bucky came, spurting deep into Steve's throat, his fingers straining not to pull out his own hair.
The vibrations stopped, and Steve released him from his mouth as the same time as he eased the dildo from Bucky's ass.
"Ah, fuck.” Bucky exhaled. His body flopped open. He still didn’t take off the blindfold. He wanted Steve to do that.
“Did that feel good?” Steve whispered in his ear.
“Umm-hmm.” Bucky turned his head and kissed at Steve’s face. His lips landed somewhere on Steve’s stubbly cheek. Instead of moving toward his mouth, Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and nuzzled at Steve’s thick sideburns. He licked against the stubble. It felt like sandpaper on his tongue.
“Look at you, you’re such a whore,” Steve moaned into his neck. “Hard again so soon.”
“I can go all night,” Bucky said confidently. “All night.”
The blindfold slid away, and Bucky squinted at Steve’s face. In the short time it had been hidden from him, he’d forgotten how beautiful it was, especially with that sexy smirk. “I’m planning on it.”
Steve’s playlist spun music deep into the night. Steve fucked Bucky every way imaginable: doggy style, missionary, Bucky on his back, on all fours, bent over the bed, Steve pressed against the wall with Bucky clinging to his neck. Face down on the floor, rug burns on his knees and face – after that, Steve took the time out to patch him up, naked and erect the whole time. “I know you make your living by that face,” Steve said, smoothing Neosporin on the mark, and finally taking off that damn shirt. Then they were back at it, legs and limbs everywhere, Bucky coming over and over and over, for two hours plus, until his muscles felt like jello and Steve had one of his legs pushed up by his head, splitting him near in half, the orange vomit color of the room exploding behind his eyes, and finally, finally, Steve came.
Even though Bucky managed to come again – was that the fifth time, or the sixth? – it was nothing compared to the ecstasy apparently shuddering through Steve’s body. It just kept going, so much that Bucky felt it spilling out of his asshole and dripping. Twenty seconds, thirty, so long that Bucky thought it might never end, he might have Steve quivering and uttering, “I love you, fuck, I love you, love you, love you” for another hour.
Steve flopped down, spent, his body sliding against Bucky’s. “That was fucking awesome,” Steve said.
“Worth three hundred and eighty dollars?” Bucky asked, kissing the tip of Steve’s nose.
Steve laughed. “Yeah. My little whore.”
Bucky curled up in Steve’s arms.
“This whole roleplaying thing... we’re gonna have to do this more often,” Steve said. “Fuck. I didn’t know you were going to come out with that whole thing.”
“The hooker thing?” Bucky grinned. “You liked that, huh?”
“Uhn... that sexy leather bit? Fuck. What do I have to do to get you to wear that for me again?”
“How much money you got?”
Soft laughter. Steve was getting sleepy, and so was Bucky. “What should we do next time?”
“I’ve got some ideas for those handcuffs...”