Work Text:
Bucky’s eyes are closed; his naked body submerged in the warm water of the large sit-in bath, in the bathroom connected to his private bed chambers. His arms are propped up on either side of him, elbows resting on the ledge. It’s been a long day – his twentieth birthday is fast approaching, and in their kingdom of Ethrendale, it marks the young Prince’s step from boy to manhood. The celebration is anticipated to be the event of the year; spanning an entire week and guaranteed to be filled with an abundance of food, drink, merriment, and no shortage of bodies Bucky can take to his bed at the end of each night.
Slim, little fingers work the soap suds through his hair and press in tiny circles against his scalp. The massage feels as though it works straight through Bucky’s head, down throughout the rest of his body, and eases out the taut muscles in all his joints. His father, King George, had Bucky make a handful of public appearances throughout the market for most of the day. As the first born and heir to the throne, it’s his responsibility to keep up positive appearance and gain more and more favour from their people. That way, when the day comes for Bucky to step up as the new King, Ethrendale’s reputation throughout the Trafalgar Lands will remain a respected one.
Ethrendale is, after all, the most prosperous of the four regions in Trafalgar; its inhabitants never go hungry, or risk unemployment, or go without coin in their pockets – even if their living is nowhere near to the lavish extent the royal family lives. Bucky’s never had to desire for anything his entire life. He’s used to getting exactly what he wants.
With one exception.
Every time his primary page-boy, Steven, bathes him, the Prince wants to ravish him until the smaller boy is a mess. Bucky’s known him since he was eight years old; back when the blond and his family had moved into the servants’ quarters in the furthest gardens behind the castle. His father, Joseph Rogers, had been servant to the King since before Bucky’s birth. After passing away due to illness, King George had waited until Steven’s seventh birthday – the year when page-boys tend to begin their duties – and took him on as Joseph’s successor.
Being the First Servant to the King at such a young age was near unheard of in any of the Trafalgar kingdoms, but George had known Steven since he was an infant and had developed a fondness for him over the years. For the first five years of his placement, the King had appointed additional help to take over whatever tasks Steven was too young to handle, or assist in the ones his small, weak frame couldn’t do alone.
Bucky remembers watching, and watching a lot. He wasn’t to speak to the lower class unless out in public, and he and his younger sister had always been especially discouraged from interacting with the servants that worked within the castle, unless they were the ones personally appointed to them. So, despite having grown up practically in the same household, their interactions were limited; near non-existent as children.
But there’d always been something about the boy that drew the Prince’s attention. He seemed to fall ill frequently, and yet it never deterred him from working his hardest for his King. He followed rules obediently, with a self-discipline that, for others, had taken years of maturity to master. Steven’s eyes always remained down and on the floor; only looking up to regard his King respectfully if George addressed him first. He never looked to the rest of the royal family, and always referred to Bucky’s father as ‘My Lord’.
It was around the age of fourteen that Bucky started having the desire for Steven to call him that.
He’s probably only yearned for the page so badly over the years because he’s just about the one person Bucky’s not allowed to have – and the Prince is allowed to have anything. In fact, he expects this by now. If there’s something he wants, he only needs to voice it. Then it’s his. That’s just the way Bucky’s world works. He’s popular, both to the people of Ethrendale, and with his friends. No one argues with him or tells him no. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s heard that word being used with reference to other people – or the fact that he has a tendency to say it quite frequently – he’d probably never know that such a term existed.
It’s not that he’s a bad person, or cruel – he’s just a creature of circumstance. Spoiled? Yes. Greedy? Absolutely. But bad? No.
Once upon a time, there’d been a girl… A pretty little thing, just two years younger than Bucky’s fifteen at the time. She’d been a servant assigned to Princess Rebecca and Bucky had made the mistake of voicing his desire to bed her in his sister’s presence. That very night, Queen Winifred had sat her son down and explained to him how the politics worked, being of such high nobility. The overlying point of her talk was the conclusion that as a blueblood, Bucky was expected to associate himself with others in the higher class. There would be no consequences if he were to fall in love with a commoner, though it was still frowned upon. But it wasn’t forbidden.
What was – is – forbidden, is any sort of relationship with the servants, outside of the professional kind established with one’s private workers. The servants, especially the pages, are considered to be sitting at the very bottom of the social ranking, whereas Bucky and his family reside up at the top. Bucky knows he’d never fall in love with someone of such poor social standing – the very idea seems repulsive to him – but he’s never fully understood why he couldn’t indulge in the more bodily desires with one if he so chose to. Sex has never been more than an enjoyable pastime for him; never once associated with emotion or the threat of a long-term commitment.
With the number of people – men and women alike – who throw themselves at the Prince just for the chance of experiencing royalty for a night, there’s never been the need to over-analyze such acts and assign them a deeper meaning. Sex is fun, so why shouldn’t he have it with whomever he wants?
Bucky’s almost broken that rule over the years, but he always stops himself. It’s not necessarily out of some selfless reasoning, and he knows this. For him, despite how terribly it would reflect on him in the face of his parents, Bucky knows that the consequences for him would be minuscule at best. Word would be silenced before it risked being spread – and even if per chance it did, the King would find a way to rectify the damage and provide opportunities for Bucky to restore his good name.
But the servant in question would be immediately banished from the kingdom. There’s even the chance that the King could order them to be put to death. And it’s not necessarily that Bucky overly cares – of course, to some degree, he does. He doesn’t wish to be responsible for anyone’s death. But he’s been raised to believe that these people are of little value to society in terms of what’s important… And in the Trafalgar Lands, this is your position on the social ladder.
It’s more so the fact that he doesn’t like when knew people come into his home. You grow used to having specific people around for years at a time, that when they get replaced for whatever reason, you have to start all the way back at square one in terms of building trust. Bucky hates that initial awkwardness where the servant hasn’t yet earned his respect; until they do, Bucky always keeps a wary eye on them, suspicious that they – like some in the past – would attempt to steal from their fortune. Or, in the most extreme cases, try to end the King’s life with something like poison in his food, or a dagger in his throat while he and the Queen slept.
So Bucky’s always been good about that. He just fucking hates being so noble. Because 'don't bed the servants' sounds simple in theory, but once the Prince is around his golden-haired little page-boy, it's easy to want to forget.
Whenever Steven washes his hair, or runs the soap-covered fabric over Bucky’s skin to clean the day’s dirtiness from the flesh, Bucky passes the time by imagining how the blond’s face would look twisted up in pleasure, while the Prince stretched his asshole open with his cock. He knows that one day, it’ll be a woman that Bucky marries, in order to carry on the bloodline of the Barnes name and keep Ethrendale thriving. While he’s young, though - while the responsibility is not yet on his shoulders - Bucky enjoys male company as vehemently as he likes to be tangled up in the sheets with a beautiful dame.
Steven is so small and fragile-looking; he probably sniffles real easily, the poor thing. Bucky imagines his tiny, naked body shivering at the smallest passing chill – only capable of being warmed up by Bucky lying him out on his back on the Prince’s featherbed and draping his much bigger body on top, pulling his duvet over them to insulate their personal heat and keep them both warm.
The page-boy circles his thumbs just underneath Bucky’s skull and he groans, grey eyes still closed as he starts to grow hard in the oil-perfumed water.
The King had acquired a new First Servant – someone with more experience and the mature age that Steven was lacking – by the time the blond was seventeen. It was an unusual amount of time to retain a boy as a page, but Steven was never much suited for anything else, and though he didn’t voice it (for he voiced little), everyone knew that he thrived off of habit. He knew his tasks and he was always good at them; assigning him to something new after so many years would only make things harder on him, especially as the only source of petty income for him and his sickly mother.
So instead of releasing him from his duties and leaving Steven without means of labour, King George had simply made him Bucky’s First Servant.
And that’s when things started to become so much more fucking difficult.
In the two years that he’s been the Prince’s primary page-boy, Bucky’s pushed the limits without giving himself away. The servants aren’t supposed to communicate with their Masters unless to address issues or answer questions regarding their work. However, if Bucky asks of information from him, Steven is obligated to provide it. This is the only reason Bucky’s gotten to learn more about him.
The boy lives a sheltered, repressed, unfulfilling life – he is a slave, after all, even if it’s for the highest-esteemed family he could work for in the kingdom – so there isn’t much to tell or for Bucky to learn. Still, he gradually grows to discover through observation that Steven may follow orders as faithfully as the soldiers in his father’s military, but there’s fire in his eyes. Sometimes, Bucky has to stare to make sure he’s seen it correctly--
And every time the unexpected attention makes the blond look away shyly and Bucky immediately orders, “Look at me, boy,” (ironic, really, since the page is only one year younger than him), baby blues snap back to his and Steven looks so fucking submissive that Bucky’s prick hardens in his pants at the possibilities.
The most frustrating part is exactly that – that whole shy thing. Bucky has this gut feeling inside that there’s a real spark inside of this boy. Of course, it’ll never be utilized. That’s unfortunate, but it’s how the cards were dealt. Bucky makes a point never to sympathize too strongly with his family’s servants; it’d only result in unnecessary uneasiness and guilt on his part. But whenever he’s around the Prince, Steven seems to pay extra mind to keeping his eyes down. If bringing the Prince food or performing tasks such as, say, taking a knee to shine his shoes, his hands are always swift and sure; strangely artistic fingers, nimble.
But the second he sees the Prince naked or has to touch his skin, he starts to fumble. It makes Bucky feel a little smug, that he visibly seems to overwhelm the young page. Unfortunately, it also makes him want to fuck him that much more and he can’t fucking do anything about it. Steven is what he can’t have – is not allowed to have – and for that reason, he’s just about the one person Bucky’s wanted the most for the last two years.
The blond is like his own horribly dirty secret… His forbidden obsession - making him moan in his sleep from the filthiest of dreams, and setting his nerve-endings on fire when the fantasies aid his hand around his cock whenever he brings himself to orgasm.
He’s been gathering the nerve for some time now. He knows that what he wants to do is risky to say the least, but it’s getting out of control. Bucky’s having an increasingly difficult time losing himself in the pleasure of someone else’s body because when he closes his eyes, all he does is try to picture the bony, tempting one that plagues all of his thoughts. If he gazes upon the person’s face, Steven’s is the only one he sees. It’s not enough anymore, simply daydreaming about him. Bucky’s hit his breaking point, spurred on by a recent incident in particular.
He feels Steven’s hands leave his scalp and retrieve the marble cup at his side. Scooping up some water, the Prince shuffles forward on the little ledge in the bath and tilts his head back. The blond presses the side of his hand lightly to his forehead, shielding the water from splashing the soap onto his face as he pours the water throughout his hair, rinsing the suds from the dark tresses. When it’s all cleaned out, Bucky straightens again and opens his eyes, staring ahead. He feels nervous and he doesn’t understand why.
He knows that all he needs to do is command Steven to please him, and the page will have to obey. Yes, there’s that knowledge in the back of his mind that, if they were discovered – if his actions were made known of – everything Steven’s worked so hard for over the years would be destroyed. It’s a selfish thing, what Bucky wants to do. But he assures himself that he’ll be careful. No one needs to find out, so no one will. What he wants, as has always been the case, takes precedence in Bucky’s mind above all else. But he’s grown used to Steven over the years… It might even be safe to say that he’s rather fond of him. So even though his own desires are the top priority at the moment, making sure nothing bad comes of it for his page is a close contender for second place.
“Stevie,” he says with a calculated control. He’d bestowed the nickname onto him several months earlier – won’t admit that he calls him that because it’s sort of like his claim over the boy. Steven may wear that necklace around his neck that all the servants in the castle wear; the one with the Barnes family crest on the pendant. But Stevie… That’s just between them – something that feels like it makes the page more of Bucky’s and less of anyone else’s, even the King’s.
The hand now gingerly washing his shoulders stills – only for a moment, and then it resumes moving. “Yes, Prince James?” comes the voice behind him (surprisingly deep for the body it comes out of, and intoxicating).
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Bucky?” the Prince asks, sighing with a mock exasperation. In all honesty, though, he really is disappointed that Steven never calls him that. He knows why he doesn’t – if a servant of all people were to be heard calling someone from the royal family by such a personal, intimate nickname, they’d face punishment for what would be seen as a lack of respect. His parents don’t even call him ‘Bucky’ – only Rebecca.
But If Steven is the Prince’s Stevie, then he wants to be Steven’s Bucky.
As expected, the blond quietly replies, “If I were to call you by such a name and my King found out, I’d surely be--”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs. The touch against his wet skin slows again, and Bucky almost turns his head to look to it, when Steven resumes washing him, now moving to his neck and upper back. Continuing to stare ahead, he lets a few minutes of silence pass between them before abruptly saying, “I saw you in the doorway of my room the night before last.”
Steven knows. Bucky knows that Steven knows. It’s the event that occurred that finally pushed Bucky to take matters into his own hands and say fuck it.
Actually, the truth is that this was most likely the second time it’d happened – Bucky’s just never been completely certain of the first. He’d been on his back; hands gripping a slim, smooth waist while a beautiful brunette moaned his name and dug her nails in his chest as she’d ridden him. The sound of the door opening had been so soft that had Bucky’s eyes not happened to have flickered in that direction in a daze, he’d have probably missed it.
It hadn’t been Steven’s fault (if it had really happened; Bucky likes to think it happened). It was nearly the time of the evening when the page entered the Prince’s bed chambers and set out his night clothes. And it’d been Bucky’s fault for having already told him in the past that he didn’t need to knock if he was coming to perform one of his standard nightly duties. For a fraction of a heartbeat, through the lustful fog clouding his mind and making the edges of everything he saw fuzzy, Bucky could’ve sworn he’d seen a head of blond hair and wide, blue eyes from the slight crack in the opened door--
Seeing exactly what Bucky had been in the middle of doing. But then in the blink of an eye, the door was once again closed and Bucky never knew for sure whether he’d been seeing things or if his page had accidentally walked in on Bucky in the primal, sweaty act of sex.
Two nights earlier, though… That, Bucky knew, had not been a figment of his imagination.
He’d been out that night and returned home in a drunken state. One of his friends, Clint, had stumbled back to the castle with him and joined the Prince back to his room. Within minutes, their clothes had come off and Bucky had found himself on his hands and knees while Clint held his hip in one hand and his shoulder in the other, pounding into him roughly. With a delirious grin and eyes constantly rolling up into his head, Bucky was in the middle of crying out with every thrust when he’d suddenly opened his eyes and seen the small blond once again in his doorway.
He’d learn the following day in casual conversation with his mother that she’d sent Steven up to his chambers to ensure he’d returned home safely. Of course, at the time, Bucky hadn’t cared why he was there. All he knew was that he wanted Steven to watch. He and Clint had slept together before, and habit made Bucky familiar with the fact that his friend had a tendency to keep his eyes closed during sex, usually so lost in the sensations that he didn’t have mind to open them.
Bucky’s eyes, meanwhile, had locked onto the blond’s. Bucky’s long, lean body continued to jolt back and forth from the force of the thrusts behind him, but the two boys simple stared at each other. Lifting a hand then, the Prince had placed one finger over his lips – shh. Then his lips turned up in an opened-mouth smirk, grey eyes rolling back into his head as he released a breathless moan. He could feel baby blues on him for several more seconds, but when he re-opened them, he only caught the tail end of Steven turning and scattering from the room.
But that hardness in the front of his preciously adorable knickerbockers… Fuck, yes, Bucky had noticed.
Steven accidentally drops the cloth into the water in shock. The hand that’d been carefully holding his shoulder – that Bucky realizes started shaking instantly – pulls from his skin as if the page has been burned. Stammering a quick apology, he reaches down to fish the cloth from the water. Bucky turns his head quickly to look at him… They’re now at eye level.
Grabbing the skinny wrist in the water, Bucky keeps him bent down like that and says quickly but calmly, “It’s alright, Stevie. You’re not in trouble; I’ve no intention of telling my father.” Relief crosses the younger boy’s face and Bucky feels some of the apprehension and fear around them lift. Lord in Heaven, Bucky’s never had the chance to be this close and really look at his page’s face. He could’ve commanded it a hundred times by now and yet he’s never thought to. But here they are, inches apart, and Steven has some of the longest lashes Bucky’s ever seen.
He wants this boy so bad it hurts. He imagines that once he’s gotten what his body’s been craving for the last few years, the fire burning in his belly for Steven will finally be stoked, and peaceful slumber will return to him. His obsession will stop. He just… God Almighty, forgive him, he needs this.
So he swallows, holding Steven’s gaze, and asks quietly, “Did you enjoy what you saw?”
The blond seems to be magnetized; stuck in place by Bucky’s eyes burning into his. But there’s shame and that fear that Bucky had just seen, and they both slip across his expression again. Trying to pull his hand out of the water, all his cheeks can do is turn red as he sputters, “I – I didn’t – I mean I did, I – your Highness, it’s not, I… I’m sorry, I--”
“It’s okay if you liked it,” Bucky interrupts gently. He suspects well enough by now that the attraction he feels for this boy is reciprocated, and he wants Steven to know it. Moreover, the Prince wants to hear him say it. So he roams his eyes over the blond’s face and gives a tiny, encouraging nod. “You’ve never been touched like that before, have you?”
Steven just gulps, still staring at him helplessly.
“I asked you a question, boy,” Bucky presses; stern, but Steven knows him and his tone well enough now to know it’s also harmless. Bucky’s never gotten upset with him, even if the page has erred in his tasks.
Steven presses his lips into a tight line and then gives a shy shake of the head. Letting out a shaky breath, he answers, “No, your Highness; never in that way.”
Bucky suspected as much. Still, the idea that his hands will be the first to map out such smooth, alabaster skin is a heady feeling; makes Bucky’s pulse quicken and his dick stick straight up in the water between his legs. Nodding again, he leans in the slightest bit and whispers, “So much you don’t know… So much to learn… God, you’re such a sweet boy… Would you like to look at me? It’s just you and me, Stevie; no need for you to run away on me now.”
He starts to guide the page’s hand a little deeper into the warm water. When he feels the tips of skinny fingers bump into his erection, Steven makes a surprised sound and goes to pull away. Bucky knows what his concern is – has it confirmed when baby blues shoot at the opened frame of the bathroom, where it’s connected to the Prince’s bed chambers. Bucky lifts his free hand from the water and touches the side of Steven’s face, turning it back towards his.
“I’ve locked the door; while you ran the bath water,” he tells him, addressing what he assumes is the page-boy’s fear. “Everyone knows that I prefer my privacy when I am bathed. No one will enter without my permission."
Steven looks frightened and hesitant – but his pupils are dilating and the flush on his cheeks is spreading down his neck. Bucky looks away and stares down to where the blond is still awkwardly leaning on one hip. Between his legs, beneath his uniform, the erect silhouette of his cock is outlined in the crotch of his slacks. Bucky licks his lips, letting them stay parted as his breathing deepens. His heart hammering away, pulsing from what feels like everywhere throughout his body, he looks back to Steven and tightens his fingers around his wrist while still paying mind not to grip him too roughly.
“You’re aroused,” he whispers. “It’s okay… I promise I won’t tell anyone. I just… I need you to touch me. I saw you looking at my body when you’d stumbled upon me; saw the way your eyes drifted down to my cock…”
He directs Steven’s hand to his erection again, and though the fingers twitch when they make contact for a second time, Steven keeps staring back at him – his arousal becoming more and more apparent by the increasingly lust-drunk look in his innocent eyes. Bucky feels his hand hesitate and then close around his length. It’s such a blessed and welcome relief – to finally have this boy touching him in the way Bucky wants – that the Prince’s eyes momentarily closed as he breathes out a heavy exhale. When he opens them, his pupils are just as blown as Steven’s.
“Touch me like you would yourself,” he orders quietly. Steven doesn’t nod in affirmation nor shake his head in protest, but his hand does start moving… Slow, unsure at first. Bucky moans softly, never blinking. For someone so shy and inexperienced, the blond must be well-versed in knowing how to pleasure his own body, because the way he moves his hand along Bucky – twists his wrist and presses his thumb down on the tip, swiping it across Bucky’s slit – is amazing. It feels better than any time Bucky’s touched himself.
“Just… like that…” he says breathlessly, never tearing his focus away from those baby blues that stare back into his. Spreading his legs, he shifts a bit so his hips are canted up. Steven strokes him with a hint of lingering anxiety – like he’s still very much afraid they could be caught – but a sureness that only justifies Bucky’s suspicion that Steven’s wanted this just as much as him. It makes him feel a bit less guilty for the selfishness of Bucky doing this at all.
He supposes he could still stop…
But now that he knows the feeling of his Stevie’s touch, he needs so much more than that.
His brows furrow with a soft gasp when the hand around his cock slips down lower to lightly grab at his balls in a surprising display of boldness. Forgetting for a moment that he’s trying to appear none the calmer, he tightens his grip on the side of Steven’s face and scrunches up his nose, mouth falling open further. Leaning in, he presses their foreheads together, still staring into his servant’s eyes and getting lost inside of the patterns, the constellations of what remains of his irises.
Kiss me, he thinks. He could just tell him to do it… Steven would have to listen…
“Can I kiss you?” he asks instead.
Servants don’t get asked how they feel about things, so at first, the blond doesn’t seem to comprehend what Bucky’s asking him. But then understanding sinks in. Looking slightly lost and confused, he nods. Bucky tilts his chin up and captures his lips in a chaste kiss. Bucky can tell that this must be Steven’s first kiss, too – if the amateur technique is anything to go by. The younger boy’s lips are far too pursed and he’s pressing his mouth back too hard. Still, his lips taste like the little piece of chocolate Bucky had secretly pocketed after dessert and handed to his servant the moment they had first been alone. Bucky pulls back enough to lick his tongue along the tight seam, as if he’d be able to taste it.
“Relax, sweet boy,” he whispers. A quick, quiet moan stutters out of him when Steven whimpers softly in the back of his throat and squeezes his dick tighter. “Fuck, mm… You sure you’ve never done this before, Stevie?” he gasps. “You lying to me about tending your hand to another man’s cock?”
His heart unexpectedly skips a beat when the blond shakes his head quickly, looking wide-eyed and nervous, like the idea alone is preposterous… Like he can’t believe the Prince is even insinuating that he’d touch another the same way he’s touching Bucky. Like this has been reserved for him all along.
“No, Prince James, I swear it--” he says in a rush.
Bucky chuckles, his eyes drunken and heavily-lidded as he leans back in. “I’m jesting, Stevie,” he assures him. “You’re just really good at this.” Then he kisses him again, inhaling deeply through his nose. Sliding his fingers into golden hair, he grabs it and then lets go in an uncontrollable rhythm – very similar to the pleasure Steven’s unleashing onto his dick. Moaning in his throat as he takes in the feeling of the smaller boy’s soft lips back against his, he breathes, “Not so tight” when he tilts his face to the other side, and “Just follow my lead” when he tilts it back again.
Within a minute or so, Steven’s mirroring his moves and giving himself over to the Prince directing their kiss. When he first lets his lips part so Bucky can slide his tongue inside of his mouth, the blond sighs softly – just the quickest, most innocent little thing – and Bucky’s heart flutters again. Bucky can’t put his finger on what it is about Steven that’s making his body react to such an extreme. This boy is an addiction…
Perhaps giving into his weakness and indulging in it wasn’t the smartest choice.
The longer his Stevie jerks him off, the more feverish Bucky’s feeling. Eventually, he untangles his fingers from his hair and has his hand slid between Steve’s thighs, massaging his cock from over his uniform. Steven jolts at first, unfamiliar with this kind of contact from another person, but then completely falls apart for it, as if the second Bucky’s hand touched him, a switch in him flipped and now he’s desperate to experience all of the pleasure the Prince is feeling merciful enough to give him.
Panting into each other’s mouths, Bucky commands, “Let me take your clothes off… I want you in here with me.”
It’s probably been months since his servant has had a proper bath. Such luxuries aren’t available in their quarters, although every living space in the gardens (housing anywhere from two to four servant families, depending on the sizes) comes with a bucket, a cloth, and soap. After all, all workers are expected to be clean and appear as prim as possible when in the castle, in the presence of the nobles.
Steven always looks as clean as if he was part of the middle class; hair always sitting just right, clothes void of most wrinkles (though Bucky isn’t sure how), and skin free of any dirt. But up close like this, there is a smell to his skin that Bucky knows is due to being just a tad dirty under the surface. He wants to clean this boy’s body so his skin smells like lavender… So he smells just like Bucky.
Steven meets every one of his kisses and nods. He asks innocently, “May I remove my hand so you can undress me?” and Bucky laughs with surprise because what else was he expecting to happen? Steven seems to be a boy of many talents, but shedding his clothing without stopping from stroking Bucky’s cock isn’t one that Bucky was unrealistically expecting of him. His Stevie is so precious…
“Of course,” he says, chuckling with a giddy grin.
He feels the loss and hears the splash as the blond’s hand pulls from the surface, and then Bucky’s turning over so he can sit on his knees on the underwater ledge. Steven straightens – pretending to mask the soreness in some of his muscles now, after having been positioned on his side for so long – so Bucky makes a mental note to rub those out for him once he’s joined him in the bath.
Bucky has a bit of an unhealthy infatuation with his page-boy’s uniform, so he’s almost reluctant to remove it, but he does. He gets to see his servant’s body for the very first time as each article of clothing gets shed. He’s even smaller out of his clothes; his limbs are stickly, with knobby knees and ribs prominently jutting from under a sea of soft-looking, flawless skin. Lowering his eyes, Bucky takes in the sight of his cock. It’s a good size – larger than he’d been expecting, but not big enough that Bucky will have any difficulty getting it all the way into his mouth, if Steven will let him.
All the while, the blond struggles with his growing nakedness. It’s very obvious that he’s uncomfortable in his own skin; must not see himself as any kind of handsome. When Bucky removes his knickerbockers, he turns his face away and stares hard at the wall, not wanting to watch the Prince taking in his form. When Bucky gently orders him to lift his arms above his head and he does, Bucky slips his shirt off. Steven immediately wraps his arms around himself, trying to cover up. Bucky just pulls them away and gives the trembling body a few kisses across his collarbone, mumbling against the skin for his Stevie’s ears, “I like the way you look… I bet you’d feel so good in my hands…”
That seems to relax him a bit; enough for Bucky to kiss up his neck while he wraps toned arms around the slighter boy’s waist. Hauling his page to him, he tilts himself back and maneuvers Steven into the water; settling back down on his rear and resting his back to the wall so the blond can settle in his lap. Steven surprisingly freezes when his body sinks into the water, and Bucky worries he’d suddenly moved things too quickly. But then the blond’s mouth falls open and he moans – and Bucky realizes he’s probably never had a warm bath in his life.
The sound goes straight to Bucky’s head. He wants to hear his Stevie make a sound like that because of him. So, hugging him close, he kisses him roughly. Tentative fingers touch either side of his jaw as the blond kisses back. What Bucky wants to do right now is an endless list… He wants to get his hand around Steven’s dick, but he also wants to get back out so he can suck it… He wants to bring the boy to his bed and get him under the duvet so he can brush his lips all over his body; lick over his tiny pink nipples and get his fingers inside of him so they can make room for Bucky’s cock.
He knows that he shouldn’t be doing that yet, though. Steven’s job – literally his only purpose in life as the good Lord gave it to him – is to tend to Bucky and take care of all of his needs. Bucky’s never needed to do that for another person, nor has he ever wanted to.
Maybe it’s because he knows Steven’s entirely new to this; is pure and chaste and untouched. Whatever the reason may be, Bucky’s never wanted to take care of another person… But he wants to now.
“Wait, wait,” he breathes. A small smile crosses his lips when he tries to pull away and finds that the blond just chases his mouth back again. They both look drunk; their eyes as glassy as marbles and their gazes slightly unfocused. Bucky leans back in and kisses him quickly before twisting a bit to take the soap. Scooping a bit of the flowery stuff from the marble case, he keeps one arm wrapped around his page’s back and tells him to bend back to wet his hair. Steven doesn’t seem to understand how to do as he’s asked at first, so Bucky helps him. Once his hair is wet, Bucky watches with a boyish smile while Steven keeps trying to wipe the water out of his eyes. Then he lathers the soap in his hands and starts washing the boy’s hair.
It’s far more erotic than it should be. He gets the impression that Steven’s never had anyone press their fingertips to his scalp and massage in the same way he’s done to the Prince and the King in the past, because his face seems to be in a constant state of pleasant surprise as he twitches in Bucky’s lap and moans softly every few seconds. Bucky had started to lose his erection for a few seconds there, but the sounds getting trapped in his servant’s throat cause all the blood to rush back between his thighs again.
After he spends a good five minutes or so with his hair, Bucky rinses the suds out – just like the blond does to him on a nightly basis – before soaping up the cloth and cleaning the boy’s body. It looks positively divine when the skin is shiny with water, and Bucky can’t stop staring. Every instinct in him wants to skip these pleasantries and pound into him until the frame of his bed breaks. But Steven’s so innocent-looking and seems to be liking this so much that he can’t bring himself to hurry things up so he can get what he wants.
When he brings the cloth underwater though and starts cleaning around his inner thighs, he brushes against the boy’s own erection and Steven gasps. I’m going to touch you, Bucky thinks. Again, he’d just need to say the words… It’s his birthright to get what he wants…
But instead he asks, “Can I…?” as he looks down into the water between them. Steven gets a bit tense with nerves, but then swallows hard and nods again. The brunet leans back in and caresses their lips together. “Tell me you want it,” he orders, voice low.
“I…” Steven tries, but then only manages to trip over his words some more. He attempts to give up, closing his eyes and setting his jaw. There’s a glimmer of that fire Bucky had always thought he’d seen. This is a small act of defiance.
So he grabs the blond’s jaw with gentle but sturdy fingers. The act makes the other boy’s eyes fly open again – and maybe there should’ve been fear, but instead, all there is as he stares back at Bucky is wanting. “Tell me,” Bucky repeats firmly. Wrapping the cloth – and his hand – around Steven’s sex, he gives it a languid, full stroke, making the blond whimper. “Tell me you want me to stroke your cock.”
“I…” Steven’s words get cut off with a low little moan, and then he takes a few deep breaths. “I… want you to touch me, your Highness.”
Bucky growls and crushes their lips together, taking pity on his beautiful little page and finally fucking his fist over him. Steven gasps again and twitches, before wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck and squeezing his eyes shut. “You want me?” Bucky presses - hisses against his mouth - and the blond nods, already half out of it.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Please…”
“Touch me back.”
Steven uses the hand opposite the one Bucky’s using to find the Prince’s erection again and together, they work to get each other off. Their tongues beat quick and hectically, Bucky swallowing every tiny moan his Stevie releases, while the other does the same with Bucky’s groans. When Bucky breaks away so he can lick down his throat and nudge Steven back enough to start darting his tongue over one of his nipples, the blond fists a hand in Bucky’s hair just as Bucky gives him a particular rough jerk and whines, “Oh, please… My Lord, more…”
Bucky moans loudly against his chest – having not expected the sudden title... Finally getting to hear it after all these years. Unable to help himself, he pinches the tiny, perky nipple with his teeth, and the young servant cries out. The walls in the castle are made of a smooth, polished stone and stand thick enough that virtually no sounds escapes any given room. It’s good, Bucky thinks, because he wants to get him screaming.
Bucky quickens the pace of his hand. “Call me that again,” he pleads, moving to the neglected nipple and sealing his lips over it, sucking roughly.
Steven whimpers high in his throat. He’s shaking so badly in Bucky’s grasp. “M-My Lord…”
“Fuck, yes,” Bucky exhales under his breath. He tweaks that nipple with his teeth, too, and then licks at it a few times with the very tip of his tongue before finding Steven’s lips again. He hums throatily when the hand around his own cock keeps twisting right at the tip. “I want you in my bed,” he growls. “I want to fuck you. I won’t tell – I swear I won’t, you have my word. Please, Stevie, please let me have you.”
He’s never begged for anyone in his life.
The blond’s only response is to moan shakily into his mouth as he tries to roll his hips with awkward movements into the Prince’s hand. It’s a strange thing… This is confirmation in and of itself. Bucky knows that Steven wants it; this much is very clear. And in the grand scheme of things, his page could outright refuse and Bucky could take him anyways. But he’d never do that to anyone who didn’t want it, and he so badly needs Steven to want it. Want him, as badly as the feeling sets his own body on edge.
“I need to hear you say it,” he says insistently. “Stevie, I need to know you want this. I won’t progress any further otherwise.”
“I want it, my Lord… I… I want… Oh my God,” the other boy whispers, before dropping his head back and moaning brokenly.
Bucky bites his lip, the admission making his head spin. Nodding, he lets go of Steven’s cock so he can wrap both arms around him and keep a sturdy grip of his slippery body as he rises from the water, steps them out of the bath, and strides quickly to his bed. It’s a bit tricky because he has to free one hand to yank his duvet down, but then he’s depositing Steven onto the silk sheets. Crawling in after him, he does exactly like he’d fantasized about in the past: slides on top of him and pulls the thick duvet over their bodies to conserve the heat about to radiate off of their skin at the close contact.
Steven rests his head on the soft pillow and, for a moment, closes his eyes and hums at the feeling of the Prince’s luxurious bed. Bucky wonders what sort of bed he has to sleep on in the servants’ quarters. He’s never bothered to actually see their living conditions.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks eagerly. Steven opens his mouth to answer but then promptly closes it. He must be feeling as though he’s becoming too informal with the young Prince; getting too close to the line where he stops seeing his place as being below Bucky’s and regards them as some sort of equal. But he nods. Bucky, feeling uncharacteristically desperate to please this boy, then says, “You’re welcome to sleep in here with me if you ever wish it. I’d give you my blessing. I mean… If you’re ever unhappy with your current arrangements…”
Steven opens his eyes and replies firmly, much stronger in tone than Bucky’s ever heard him speak, “I will stay with my mother. Thank you.”
“I… I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just under the impression you might want…” Bucky sighs, frowning. He’s starting to feel a little confused. He’s never been shut down before. Is this what no feels like? It’s a little maddening – or maybe that’s just Steven. “I… apologize,” he forces himself to say; another thing he isn’t used to admitting out loud.
Baby blues soften beneath him. Seeming to realize how he’d just spoken to his Master, Steven’s cheeks turn scarlet and he shakes his head, assuring him quickly, “No, I am the one who’s sorry – I was out of line, I just… My mother needs me, your Highness. I cannot abandon her, no matter how much I’d enjoy laying with you at night.”
“You would?” Bucky asks.
“Yes. I just… I’m sorry, I cannot.”
Bucky gives him a small smile and brushes his hair out of his face. “I understand. That’s alright.”
“Thank you, Prince James. For bathing me, also. You don’t need to continue touching me if you don’t want to anymore,” the blond adds shyly, mirroring the Prince’s little smile. His, though, looks so self-deprecating.
Bucky frowns. “Do you not believe you deserve to feel pleasure? Was that not good for you?”
I can do better. Bucky does not understand why his page is suddenly making him so eager to please.
“No, it was. That was…” Steven inhales deeply, closing his eyes as if consumed at the memory of how Bucky’s hand felt wrapped around him. But then he looks pained and says, “But we are from entirely different worlds. I’m not worthy of someone like yourself.”
“That’s a fucking lie,” Bucky says sternly, clutching onto the side of his face. The blond’s legs are still wrapped around him loosely and if he stops to let himself feel below the waist, their cocks are just barely grazing each other. He leans down and kisses Steven. “You are worthy of many great things,” he insists. “Do not be so sure that I am not one of them. Perhaps it is I who is undeserving of…” He swiftly cuts himself off. He doesn’t say things like this; doesn’t feel them. He isn’t about to start now, even if the thought in his mind leaves him baffled and unsure.
So instead, he starts gently rolling his hips down, to get his Stevie used to the sensation of Bucky rocking their sexes together. He keeps his lips busy along the servant’s jaw, knowing he’ll do everything he can to keep the insatiable hunger inside of him at bay – to not advance upon Steven in a frenzy and ravish him like he’s always wanted to just to slate the ache of his cock. He’s known this boy – at least to some degree – since childhood. Steven is precious to their family, even if he’s but a slave. He has a responsibility to make his first time a memorable one.
Steven’s short, blunt nails dig into his back as he mewls softly at the friction. “I’m going to take you,” Bucky whispers into his ear. “Slowly… Gently… Open you up with my fingers until you can properly handle my cock… If you wish for it to be harder or faster, you tell me. I’ll give it to you. Do you want this?”
“Yes,” Steven breathes; eyes closed and neck already arched, driving the back of his head into the pillow. Bucky feels him undulating his little body back against his. “Yes, my Lord…”
“Can you please call me Bucky?” he asks… Kisses his way to the other side… Nips ever so softly on the blond’s earlobe. “Even if only once…”
Steven bites his lip, his brows creasing and creating a little wrinkle between them. Given what they’re already doing, the consequences if discovered would already be far harsher than calling him that. So he opens his eyes and meets the Prince’s gaze as he licks his lips and then tries it. “Bucky…”
Bucky groans. It sounds so much better in his voice than he could’ve ever imagined. He thrusts his hips down particularly hard, and as Steven’s body jolts up and then falls back down from the force, his eyes roll up beneath his heavy lids and he says it again, “B-Bucky…”
“Yeah, just like that, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs. He watches his face intently as he tilts his pelvis around until he feels them properly lined up, and then presses down harder whenever he rolls himself downwards. “I like the sound of your voice…”
“My ma…” the page starts to say, and then inhales sharply and bites his lip. Clearing his throat, he tries again: “My ma sometimes just calls me S-Steve… I don’t actually like ‘Steven’…”
“Really?” Bucky’s glad he knows this. He guarantees he’s the only person in the castle who’s aware of this information now – even the King calls the young servant ‘Steven’. “Then I’ll call you Steve – and Stevie. You’re my Stevie, aren’t you, sweet boy?”
“Yes,” Steve moans.
“Yeah,” Bucky exhales. He kisses down the blond’s neck and chest, quickly coming up with his strategy. Steve seems to get progressively tenser the lower he peppers those kisses, so he keeps murmuring, It’s okay… Trust me… AndSteve must, for whatever reason, because he focuses on his breathing and eventually gets himself to relax for Bucky. When the Prince settles between his legs, he throws them over his shoulders and gives Steve’s inner left thigh a rough bite, making the page squirm with hoarse cry.
“Mine,” Bucky husks possessively, turning his face into the blond’s leg and latching his lips to it, sucking vehemently. He does it until he has Steve writhing beneath him, and there’s a large, angry red blotch on the skin. He pulls back to admire the mark – his real branding on his Stevie’s skin – and then kisses it. “You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else touching you.”
Why does he suddenly hate the idea of such a thing; fills him with an unfathomable amount of jealousy? He has no idea how to answer that question.
“No one,” Steve pants. Bucky’s heart is pounding so wildly that he feels it might burst. He mouths the young boy’s balls and then quickly wraps his lips around his leaking cock, sucking right down to the short thatch of pubic hair. Moaning in his throat, he starts bobbing his head, already loving the taste of his Stevie. Steve throws his head back and fists his hands into dark hair.
“No one else, oh God, n-no one else but you,” Steve babbles, nighly incoherent. “Yours – oh, Bucky! I – ah, I’m yours, just yours… Oh my God…”
Bucky snarls a deep hum around the dick in his mouth and sucks him faster. Not wanting to remove his lips or tongue from his beautiful page for even a second, he slides two of his fingers into his mouth as he drop back down Steve’s cock. Lapping his tongue over them a few times, he shoves his hand behind Steve’s sac and feels around until that familiar heat touches his fingertips. When he pushes his index finger against that (so fucking tiny) tight ring of muscles, he opens his grey eyes and glances up to Steve’s face.
Steve’s eyes open and snap downward. He looks scared, so Bucky gently circles his asshole soothingly – reassuring him when he can’t give voice to his words. Just when he thinks Steve’s changed his mind about the whole thing, he gives the smallest of nods. So Bucky starts pushing his finger inside, and it’s so hot and snug and so tight, fucking Lord… He watches Steve’s face scrunch up right before he grunts, grits his teeth, and collapses his head back to the pillow. It’s so fucking arousing to see, that Bucky moans and ruts against the soft mattress to try and provide some relief for his own dripping erection.
Once he’s gotten his Stevie used to this – maybe after a few more times, a few more nights together – Bucky’s going to clean him all up again in the bath and take his sweet time properly washing his ass. He can only imagine the way this boy would look… Golden hair dripping wet and his pale skin beading with sweat and water, scented oils and salt - whimpering while Bucky fingered him, nice and fucking deep.
He would love to see one day just how many of his digits his beautiful boy could take up his body.
But for now, he’s mindful to keep it as gentle as possible. He lets the minutes pass as he does nothing but coerce the resistant muscles to gradually relax; soften as he’s able to slide it back and forth so effortlessly that he can squeeze in the other. Steve whines whenever the Prince scissors those fingers, forcing his walls to expand, and when he crooks them in search of that one little spot that he knows from experience makes it all worth it and finds it… Steve’s back arches from the bed and he cries out Bucky’s name.
Patiently preparing him, Bucky kisses his way back up flesh, protruding ribs and sharp collar bones, until he and Steve are once again kissing in a state of need and delirium. He’s able to thrust both fingers all the way to the second knuckles without much difficulty, and even though he could stare down and watch the way Steve stares back up at him absolutely debauched for presumably the rest of his life, his body is so riled up that it’s growing distressed.
“I want you,” he tells him. “You’re ready – I can feel it. Your body wants me so badly; keeps sucking in my fingers. So greedy – you’re so greedy, fuck, I love it… God, Stevie, I’ve wanted you for so fucking long. You’re so beautiful, look at you – so sweet, baby, you’re my sweet little boy; so fucking delicate for me.” He knows he’s rambling now. He doesn’t even understand half of the things he’s saying.
He just knows they feel honest, whatever the content may be.
Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though. On the contrary, every word spilling from the Prince’s mouth hooks him deeper, judging by the look of worship etched on his face. He never takes his eyes off of Bucky’s; just holds onto the back of the bigger boy’s neck and stares up at him, doe-eyed and trying to fuck himself back down on Bucky’s fingers. These tiny, pitchy breaths push from his lungs whenever Bucky thrusts them back in. Bucky’s bedded more people than he can now count, and he can’t remember the last time someone was so exhilarating for him to hear – see like this…
So he pulls his fingers free and kisses his Stevie’s temple sympathetically when the blond makes an uncomfortable face at the sudden looseness in his gaping little hole. Getting out of bed, he locates his recently replenished supply of olive oil and brings it back with him. When he sets it down on the table next to his bed and goes to slick his fingers to work it over his erection, he notices the way his page is staring at his flushed cock.
Glancing down at it and then back up at his face, the Prince says, “You stare… Do you wish to touch it again? Or… put your mouth on it…?”
Steve nods distractedly; breathes out, “Yeah,” and completely forgets to adds the respectful title to the end of it – your Highness, Prince, my Lord. Hell, even ‘James’ or ‘Bucky’. It’s like he’s so turned on for Bucky that he’s completely forgotten about proper ceremony. Bucky doesn’t mind; he likes when people look at him like this – when he’s fawned over. He especially likes feeling his Stevie looking at him like that.
Since all he got was a nod, Bucky isn’t sure which suggestion the blond was agreeing to, until Steve scrambles to the side of the bed - to Bucky - and starts kissing his hip bones… Back and forth, nervously - like he knows what he wants but he’s biding his time to gather the nerve to try. The Prince pets his fingers through golden hair, now messy from being tugged and raked through, and watches him affectionately. His beautiful Stevie is so tiny… Eager… Unlearned… Angelic… So pure and ready to let his Master steal his innocence with greedy hands.
Steve’s hands are on his hips – fingertips touching the firm muscles of Bucky’s ass – and his hands are just as greedy.
“Let me help you,” he offers, since he notices Steve continue to steal glimpses at his cock but hesitate to proceed further. Tracing the pads of his fingers along the boy’s jaw, he tilts his chin up so Steve’s looking back up at him. Brushing his thumb over Steve’s swollen bottom lip, he presses gently, tugging it down, and instructs, “Open your mouth for me.”
He does, unblinking, and Bucky smiles. “Very good, sweet boy. Remember to breathe. Do not use your teeth; just suck, that’s all you need to do. Just, let me…” Wrapping his other hand around the base of his erection, he guides it to Steve’s waiting mouth and pushes it just the tiniest bit between his lips. “Give it a little lick. See how you like the taste.”
He watches Steve’s eyes drop back down and then close. The tip of his tongue flicks out and brushes against his tip. Withdrawing his cock, he gives Steve the room to close his mouth and lick his lips, playing with the tiny bit of precome he’d lapped up and absorb how it is on his taste buds. At first, the blond’s brows crease and he makes a soft, inquisitive sound as he swallows. It’s hard to gauge his reaction, but the level of concentration he’s putting into it is so charmingly adorable that Bucky really hopes he likes it.
Baby blues re-open and Steve peers up to meet his eyes shyly. “You taste good,” the blond admits quietly.
“Do I?”
He nods.
“You want more, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs, stroking his cheek with his thumb.
“Yes, my Lord, please…”
He’ll swear it in front of God Himself, Bucky doesn’t know how he got so lucky with this one. He coaxes his mouth to open up again and then pushes himself back between Steve’s lips, feeding it in deeper this time. He’s seen his page-boy’s bad health enough times over the years to know better than to try fitting the entire length between those blood-red lips, so he only moves in halfway before letting go of himself and moving both of his hands to the back of Steve’s head.
Nudging him a little, Steve starts to draw back until his lips touch the bottom of Bucky’s cockhead, and then he slides it back down half the length. There’s very little technique and Steve really has no clue what he’s doing. But he’s trying so hard, and Bucky finds his lack of education endearing. It softens his heart and makes him want to do nothing but praise the boy – even if the ministrations were awful.
In reality, they’re anything but. Bucky’s had more experienced people suck his cock and bring him to climax in the past. And yes, maybe it’s felt better with others, but to know that he’s introducing Steve to this world – these brand new sensations that are meant to bring nothing but pure, unadulterated ecstasy – makes this one of the best he’s ever had, lack of experience be damned.
His head falls back and he moans, long and low and breathy. He pets Steve’s hair; sometimes, tightening his hold on either side of his head and urging him to suck faster or when to slow down. When his greediness gets the better of him, he holds the page still and thrusts his cock as deep into the back of his throat as he can. Steve gags – sputters helplessly around the thickness of his dick and squeezes his eyes shut as they prickle with tears – and Bucky immediately pulls back.
“I’m sorry,” he pants. “Apologies, I… I just wanted to try that once - I’m sorry, I should have asked first…”
Steve gives him a confused look and pulls his head back enough that Bucky falls from his lips. Voice raspy – and oh fuck, it makes Bucky weak in the knees – he replies, “You’re my Master. You do not need to ‘ask’ a single thing from me if you do not want to… My duty is to you and the royal family. Whatever you command, I am to give you.”
Bucky’s stomach drops about as quickly as he suddenly feels his heart sinking. A sickening dread makes his throat tight, and grey eyes widening, he stares at Steve in shock. “You never wanted this…” he says slowly. Jaw dropping and feeling as if he’s about to vomit, he lets go of the blond’s head and starts to pull back, retreating.
Steve reaches out quickly and grabs his wrist. “No, wait!” he exclaims. “Wait… You misunderstand me… Come back here, please.”
Bucky isn’t sure he can believe him. Bucky always gets what he wants, and there’s no way Steve hasn’t realized that over the years. Bucky thought he’d been giving him a choice, but apparently the page had still felt nothing but obligation to give his consent. All that had been was a hollow offering. Is this what it feels like to suddenly want to cry? This can’t be heartbreak – that’s ridiculous. Steve’s nothing but a slave – inconsequential in society and easily replaceable.
Except he isn’t. And he isn’t just a slave, he’s… He’s his Stevie. He’d told Bucky that he’d never allow anyone but him to touch his body like this. He’d… He’d agreed when Bucky proclaimed, Mine.
This hurts. Bucky isn’t used to hurting. He’d genuinely believed Steve had wanted this (him).
He hears the blond quietly ask, “My Lord?”
He chooses not to answer; still feels too sharply stung to meet his gaze. But then Steve gives his wrist a gentle tug and tries again. This time he says, “Buck…”
Bucky’s powerless to resist that. He slowly looks back to Steve’s face, but his expression is slightly guarded. Steve gives him such a gentle, apologetic look… Pulling the Prince back closer, he says, “I didn’t mean it that way. I… What I meant was…” Releasing a frustrated little huff while he tries to compose the right words, Steve frowns and looks away in thought. “All I was trying to do was assure you that… you never need to apologize with me. There isn’t a thing you could do to me that I would not want – not like this…”
Bucky’s heart leaps into his mouth. His skin feels like it’s burning up… And he’s suddenly very self-conscious about whether or not his page can feel the light flutter of his erratic pulse beneath the skinny fingers wrapped around his wrist. There are one million things he wants to ask, but instead he says nothing. He wants to hear what sort of truths Steve will trust him with, without having to be ordered to say them first.
For a few seconds, the blond seems to expect the opposite; waits for the Prince to say something in response. But when Bucky remains silent, Steve just shakes his head a bit and then tugs him a little closer.
“I’ve… You’ve always been there, for as long as I can remember…” he confesses quietly. “I know I should not voice such things… I hold no childish daydreams of a reality I can never have, nor would I ever expect you to want… me… I just…” Bucky stops breathing when Steve slowly looks back up to him and the blond looks confused and sad; scared and vulnerable.
“I want you,” Steve whispers. He brings Bucky’s hand to the back of his head and holds it there. Eyeing Bucky’s cock again, he licks his lips and then locks blue with grey. “I want you, Master.” Before Bucky knows what’s happening, a hot mouth is back around his sex… Suction, warm cheeks, a wet tongue… He scrunches up his nose and stutters out a soft, barely audible cry as he watches his servant suck him almost desperately.
The hand over his keeps pressing down, as if to give permission to guide him like he had been before. Then Steve’s trying to take more of his length further along his tongue, and he couldn’t be spelling it out for the Prince if he tried any harder – so Bucky gives in; grabs him by the hair and stills him again so he can start fucking into the back of Steve’s throat. Steve starts choking softly again, and after a half minute or so, tiny little tears roll down his cheeks whenever he squeezes his eyes shut tighter.
But every time Bucky tries to stop, the blond just presses more firmly down onto Bucky’s hand clutching at the back of his skull… Stares up at him with wet, bleary eyes – blue irises nearly swallowed up by black… And moans softly, as his way of telling Bucky that he’s okay; to keep going. It feels so good and Bucky starts panting so harshly that he feels lightheaded, as if trapped in a fever dream. His body won’t hold out much longer if they keep this up, and he has no intention of reaching his orgasm before he’s had a chance to be inside of his Stevie and help to get him off.
It’s a fucking unheard of thing to think. Unless for procreation or with your wife, Bucky – as a man – is not supposed to pay mind to anyone else’s pleasure but his own. Yes, he tends to stray from that belief because he has a personal weakness for bringing his partners pleasure. But even then, in the past that has hardly been a generous thing – it’s mostly done to stroke his own ego at the knowledge that it’s because of him and his talents that he provides those pleasures.
But with Steve… God help me... What is happening to him? He’s wealthy, he’s powerful – he’s fucking royalty. He has absolutely no obligation to anyone when it comes to sex to be concerned for anyone’s well-being but his own. He’s the ultimate alpha in terms of his social standing. Steve’s at the very bottom. So here are the facts:
Bucky is Steve’s Master. He has every right to fuck him as hard and as brutally as he wants, and even if the page did not want it, he cannot disobey the Prince.
Bucky is Steve’s superior. Sex is about the power dynamics – there are the active participants (those who fuck) and the passive ones (those who get fucked). The pleasure is meant only for the active, dominant participants. Bucky, of course, is the exception to this rule when he chooses to bottom, since he is pretty much the exception to everything in Ethrendale. But here, right now, Bucky could take what he wants and make it last as long or as short as would be necessary to reach his climax and pump his seed into his servant’s body. Steve’s pleasure is inconsequential. Moreover, Bucky shouldn’t care about it.
But he does. God, he does. He thinks he might even care about it more than his own right now. And he can find absolutely no reasoning to justify such insane thoughts. If his pleasure was all that mattered, he’d keep his cock buried in his page-boy’s mouth. He’d probably only need another minute or so until he fell apart and had Steve gulping down his orgasm.
That’s not what this is about, not tonight. Instead, he pulls out quickly and then bends down to crush his lips to Steve’s in a kiss. At the same time, he crawls back onto the bed. Steve throws an arm around his neck and holds the side of Bucky’s face in the other, kissing back as together, they shift around so he’s lowering down to his back again. Bucky, never detaching his mouth, follows his movements and hovers over him once Steve is comfortable.
He dips his fingers in the olive oil and then quickly strokes his cock, both boys staring down and watching as the slick mixes with Bucky’s precome, leaving the flushed skin shiny. Bringing the tip to Steve’s opening, he settles down on top of him and then stares into his eyes - a silent question, looking for permission. Steve’s shaking again, but he whispers, “Do it… I want you to…”
So he does… Starts pushing forward and watches Steve’s face pinch up with discomfort as he strains around Bucky. There are a few seconds of struggle, but then his muscles give and Bucky slips inside of him. Just getting the head in there is a glorious feeling - difficult, because the boy’s body is so tight that it feels almost too good, but glorious, yes. Bucky needs that hot suction all around him. So he takes it slow but consistently; working every inch of himself into Steve until his hips are flush against the blond’s ass.
Steve trembles violently, whimpering as he gets used to the penetration. Instead of thrusting right away, Bucky moves his hips in tiny movements from side to side; circles around a bit. He knows his poor Stevie is in pain, so he kisses around his face and breathes, “You’re so good, so good, my sweet little boy – look how nicely you fit around me. I’ll take care of you, I promise…”
I’ll make you crave me as badly as I’ve craved you – you’ll never go a day without aching to feel me like this again… I’m going to make you need me…
When Steve lifts his head and kisses Bucky’s mouth, Bucky starts to move. He has to keep his thrusts shallow at first. But every movement lets him bury his cock a little deeper; gets his page used to it just a little bit more. Steve groans and wheezes through grit teeth every time Bucky drives all the way into him again. However, his hurt, pained noises bleed into gasps… Needy sighs… And Bucky notices that Steve kisses him harder, with less finesse, whenever he does something that seems to feel good.
He wants to play with every position he can think of. He wants to straighten up and turn Steve’s legs to one side to squeeze his cock further… He wants to flip them over once the blond can handle it so he can be ridden… Steve’s so tiny that Bucky could pick him up fuck him while he stands; holding Steve up in his arms… His waist could fits just perfectly in his hands; Bucky could get a nice grip if he had the boy on his hands and knees… Or maybe he wants him up against the wall, or in his lap; face-to-face so they can possess more kisses…
He stays the way he is and continues rocking in and out of him, with Steve’s heels digging into his lower back; thighs squeezing Bucky’s sides and locking him in place. He wants to destroy his Stevie – and he could, he could, it’s right there for the taking – but he can’t. Not this time. If Steve asks Bucky to give him more, he’ll deliver in a heartbeat. But it’s Steve’s first time, Bucky can’t mess this up. He needs to give this boy a reason to want to come back.
Bucky realizes he’ll never have it in him to force Steve to do anything he doesn’t wish to do, even though he can. He wants Steve to want him back on his own terms. Anything less won’t feel right. It won’t be enough.
“How are you?” he asks breathlessly, never breaking his stride. “Are you alright?”
Steve presses their foreheads together, his chin tilted down. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing roughly through a strained jaw, but he whispers back, “Yes… Feels… Bucky…”
“Am I going too fast? Too hard?”
“No,” Steve answers, shaking his head.
“Okay.”
When he kisses Steve, the smaller boy moans brokenly against his lips and attempts to start fucking himself back against Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s about to see if he’s trying to ask for something when Steve suddenly pleads, “Deeper…” The moment he starts pressing himself in as far as physically possible, Steve’s back arches and he cries out.
“Stevie… I want to fuck you… Really fuck you – I want your body to have no choice but to come for me…” Bucky tells him. He punctuates his desire with a particularly sharp thrust, to give the servant a taste of what he’s talking about; to see if he can take it. If Steve doesn’t want it, it’ll be tough, but Bucky will stop himself. He just really hopes Steve will say--
“Yes, oh, God, my Lord,” Steve moans, nodding. Starts repeating feverishly, “Fuck me, take me, m’yours, I… mm…”
Bucky’s eyes roll up into his head as he moans loudly. How many nights had he dreamed of having Steve beneath him like this, speaking to him so wantonly and begging for Bucky to claim him? He’s ached for this page-boy for as long as he’s known how to want – and right now, he doesn’t care where Steve ranks according to his kingdom’s standards. In this moment, he’s the only thing that matters to the Prince. Snarling, he clenched his teeth and starts fucking into him with fervor.
The first thrust probably hurts his Stevie, but he feels gangly arms and legs wrap around him and cling frantically nonetheless. The sound of his body smacking against Steve’s would probably deafen them if their own noises were not louder. It’s Steve that sets Bucky off – first he’s crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. But then the Prince shifts a bit – repositions his knees to better anchor himself against the mattress – and this way, he’s able to thrust deeper and faster at the same time. Suddenly he’s hitting that spot that turns the younger boy’s cries into loud, overwhelmed gasps.
Bucky watches in amazement as Steve’s eyes fly open and he stares off, detached from reality and lost somewhere in a stasis of bliss. So Bucky just keeps thrusting, keeps fucking that sweet spot, and those gasps beneath him transform into passionate, broken whines. They’re not as loud as the cries had been, but they cut through the Prince about twice as deep. That’s around the time when Bucky finds himself burying his face into Steve’s neck, groaning with every breath that leaves his lungs.
He loves when his beautiful page rakes his nails down his sweaty back, drawing thin pink marks into the skin. He loves the way Steve clings to him; so small under his body and feeling even smaller when he curls all around him like this. He isn’t sure how long they continue like this… It’s so easy to lose himself inside of his Stevie; even easier to lose his grip on the concept of time, of reality… Of anything beyond the boy in his arms.
“Fuck your hand, precious,” he orders, lifting his head enough to kiss at Steve’s bitten, plush lips. “Look at me while you do it… I want to see you when you come… Ah, fuck… You’re going to say my name; want you to let go for me and scream it… No one will hear you, don’t worry… Our little secret… Fuck, baby, Stevie, auh…”
It really isn’t all that long once Steve wraps his hand around himself and begins stroking quickly. Bucky pushes himself up to his knees so he can grab his page-boy’s hips and lift his ass from the bed. Burying himself all the way inside of him, Bucky keeps Steve’s waist lifted – his skinny body on an angle – and begins to pound into him this way. He gets such a spectacular view like this; can just look down and see all of Steve… His hand working his cock, the way his chest rises and falls, the look on his face… Whenever the boy can’t help himself and closes his eyes, Bucky slows down and gives him a brutal, bordering on painful thrust to get his attention.
“I told you to look at me,” he orders. His voice is nothing but a gravelly husk. Steve immediately meets his eyes again and whimpers. The pain of Bucky’s cock drilling into him like that gets his hand moving even more eagerly. So Bucky breathes out his name and resumes moving. Faster… Faster… Harder, deeper… Keeps aiming for his Stevie’s sweet spot and matching the volume of the blond’s moans whenever he hits it and those walls clamp down around him.
“My Lord, my Lord,” Steve starts panting. “I’m… I… Hmmm!” And then he’s pushing out this wobbly, almost distressed-sounding noise. But there’s so much precome drooling from his slit – so flushed, almost purple every time it peeks out from the page’s fist – that Bucky knows it’s nothing to be concerned about.
“Let go for me,” he manages to say between large gulps of air and trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes. “You’re safe in here, I’ve got you, precious. Give in to it… Oh… Oh my God, yes,” he whispers to himself. Batting Steve’s hand away, he takes over stroking the boy’s cock. With his hips angled into the air the way they are, Steve can watch back… Watch his Master taking over him; twisting and tugging along his erection… The hunger in the Prince’s eyes… Steve reaches above his head; one hand fisted in the sheets, the other, gripping the frame of the bed. Bucky thinks he’s already completely obsessed with watching Steve unravel.
“Mm… mm – mm, mm, oh! My… Ah! Oh – oh! Oh my God, oh my God! Bucky – BUCKY!” Unable to help it anymore, he throws his head back and closes his eyes as he sobs his pleasure into the vacant space of the room, his orgasm finally hitting him. Bucky’s so enthralled with the look on his face that he almost misses entirely the way his cock looks while it spits out his release. But then he sees his servant’s bony chest getting streaked up with white and it gets his attention.
It’s one of the most exquisite things he’s ever seen. When a shot of his sweet boy’s climax splashes over one of his delicious little nipples, Bucky’s balls draw up tight and he starts moaning quicker and higher in his throat. Pleasure crashes over him seconds later and he starts to come, too. Crying out softly, he swoops down and tries to channel the intense sensations licking through every fiber of his body by sucking on that nipple and licking away his Stevie’s seed from the skin.
It’s never felt this incredible – not for as long as he can remember, anyways. He’ll have time to dwell on that and worry about its implications come morning.
For now, Bucky’s floating too high, too strung out on the endorphins releasing into his brain and body to over-analyze it. He just knows he likes it. After his orgasm ends, they continue to lie there for a few minutes. Bucky licks away the come from Steve’s chest and then they waste some time kissing lazily, saying nothing while they catch their breath. Eventually, he gets up reluctantly to fetch the cloth from the bath in order to clean the page’s leaking rear. Bucky takes his time with that task. If he purposely draws it out so he can mouth around the boy’s inner thighs again and drag his tongue back and forth along his softened dick, it is what it is.
He’s the Prince, after all. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants. Steve doesn’t seem to mind.
Bucky can feel the mood start to shift the moment the serotonin and other addicting chemical releases they’d felt during their sexual high start to abandon them. He’d gone back into the bathroom to discard the cloth in the cooling water, but when he returns to his bed chambers, he’s surprised to see Steve getting off of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, confused.
“I should get re-dressed,” Steve says quickly. He’s sparing glances to the closed bedroom door. “I should go.”
“Steve…” Bucky says, a frown forming on his face. “Wait--”
But the blond is already setting his sights past the Prince, to where his clothes are strewn on the bathroom floor. He starts to step forward when Bucky panics. In his panic, he gets more aggressive in his tone than he means to.
“You are not permitted to leave your Master until I’ve dismissed you!” he almost shouts. His voice is unsteady; seems almost scared. Pointing to the bed with a trembling hand, he orders, “Get back on the bed!”
Steve had flinched at Bucky’s yelling. He’s staring back at the Prince with wide, unbelieving eyes. Neither know why they’re both acting so strangely. Realizing that he’d just been out of line, Bucky shakes his head and approaches his page; holding out his hands to give him warning that he intends to touch him. This way, Steve only goes a little tense when Bucky’s big hands palm his bare shoulders.
Bucky opens his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say. The only thing he can settle on is to say quietly, “Please… I do not want you to go just yet. You can put your clothing back on if you wish to, just…” He sighs, looking away as his mouth twists up. He’s confused. “I don’t know what I’m asking you for… Lay with me? Just for a few minutes? Then I’ll release you from your duties and you can return to your mother for the remainder of the evening.”
Steve looks up at him, searching his eyes. He looks confused, too. “Why?” he eventually asks. Why are you doing this? Why do you want that? Me?
Bucky knows that’s the real question.
“I don’t know,” he admits softly. “I will probably return to my normal self by morning. I just do not want you to part so soon.”
“I have no intention of telling anyone,” Steve says, “if that is your concern.”
Bucky narrows his eyes at him, feeling a little annoyed by such a comment. “I don't know whether or not to take offense at my First Servant thinking so little of me.”
Steve sighs. “Apologies, your Highness. I think it’s just… If we were to be caught--”
Bucky’s annoyance melts away as quickly as it came. He had a hunch that this was the issue, but now he knows for sure. Cupping the boy’s face, he steps in and silences him with a gentle kiss. “No one will ever find out,” he assures him again. “The secret dies with me if you can say the same.”
Steve holds onto his wrists, his eyes still closed. Slowly, he opens them and then nods.
“Will you lay with me now?”
“May I put my uniform back on first, please?”
“I would prefer your body be on display like this so I could continue to look at you… But yes, go ahead.”
The night clothing the blond had laid out for him before the bath is on the floor, having been knocked off the bed in their commotion. Normally it’s Steve’s job to dress him, but he pulls on the clothing himself while he waits and then climbs back into bed. When Steve emerges, he’s back to dawning that adorable outfit. Bucky lifts one arm as an invitation. Steve looks to the door and hesitates just a tad, but then he’s crawling in beside him and resting his cheek on the Prince’s chest.
It takes a few minutes of stroking his hair, the skin of his neck, kissing his forehead, and engaging him in conversation, for the younger boy to think less and less about the threat of being walked in on. Eventually, his body relaxes against Bucky’s and it feels more like what they’d shared while being intimate. Except the silence is a little more awkward. Bucky doesn’t want it to be awkward… His Stevie might not want this again if he walks out that door feeling uncomfortable around his Master.
So he thinks fast. He clears his throat and forces an easygoing smile.
“Have you ever tried grapes before?” he asks. He knows that Steve brings him a bowl filled with the fresh fruit every day after breakfast, for the Prince to snack on throughout the day if he feels peckish. He’s not surprised when Steve lifts his chin to glance at the fruit sitting on his table, and then meets Bucky’s eyes, giving a little shake of the head. Bucky’s peaked his interest.
Bucky’s smile expands as he twists a bit to retrieve the bowl. Resting it next to him, he plucks one of the grapes from its stem and then holds it in front of the blond’s mouth. Steve eyes it and then parts his lips, allowing Bucky to put it into his mouth. He watches Steve’s face as he rolls the fruit on his tongue and then bites into it. Baby blues light up at the flavour, and he hums out a little, “Mm…”
Grinning and feeling pleased with himself, Bucky pops a grape into his own mouth and asks as he chews, “What do you think? Good?”
“Yes,” Steve answers honestly. When he sees Bucky’s smile, he returns it shyly and chuckles. He reaches his hand out to the bowl but Bucky makes for it first.
“No, here – let me.”
And then they fall back into silence while the Prince hand-feeds his servant. Things feel much more comfortable now, and when the bowl runs empty, Bucky just pulls his Stevie to him tighter and goes back to carding his fingers through damp, golden hair.
He’s going to regret this later, he knows he is.
Things feel peaceful, perfect, until there suddenly comes a loud knock on his door. Both boys freeze, and before Bucky knows it, Steve’s leaping off the bed and smoothing down his clothing quickly. Bucky just stares at him, wide-eyed and thrown off, before he calls out, “Yes?”
“James,” the King’s voice answers from the other side of the door. “Your mother was expecting you nearly an hour ago – you two were to discuss a few matters regarding the upcoming celebration. I sent a guard to retrieve you but you did not answer. Why am I being sent to fetch my son myself? And why is your door locked?”
The two boys share a terrified glance and then the Prince is getting to the floor, too. He’s about to go unlock the door when he realizes that the page’s hair is still not completely dry. Running to Steve, he grabs his wrist and whispers, “Go into the bathroom and start draining the bath water. If he sees you, I’ll provide an excuse. I will take the blame. Go.”
Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. Turning, he runs from the room and Bucky looks back to the door. Heart racing, he tries to appear calm as he goes to the door and opens it up. His father is waiting patiently on the other side - but taking one look at his son’s appearance, the King’s eyes narrow slightly.
“I got carried away discussing my excitement for the party with Steve…n,” he catches himself.
“You still have not answered why the door was locked.”
Bucky throws on his best exasperated face and rolls his eyes. “Father, I will be a man in but a few days, remember? I do not wish for anyone to enter and see me while I bathe - I am not a child anymore.”
For a second, he isn’t sure his lie will be bought. But his demeanour makes the situation seem nothing out of the ordinary – his explanation provided, believable enough – so the King nods after a few tense seconds before turning to go.
“Dismiss Steven and go see your mother,” he orders. “Be prompt, if you will. She has been waiting long enough.”
“Yes, sir,” Bucky answers. His father walks away and Bucky watches until he turns the corner at the end of the hall. He quickly closes the door again, releasing the breath he’d been holding. Leaning against the door, he stares ahead, frowning. Steve’s head peeks out from around the corner of the bathroom, and he looks terrified.
“Did he…?”
“No,” Bucky assures him. “I gave him reasoning and he accepted the lie. You’re safe.”
“I need to go,” Steve insists, averting his eyes to the ground and hurrying towards the door.
Bucky bites his lip. Yes, he knows he has to. He doesn’t want him to, but…
“Wait, before you go…” he suddenly says, moving from the door and jogging to his treasure chest. He can feel how anxious the page is; shifting on the balls of his feet at the door and clearly wanting nothing but to leave. Bucky isn’t sure why he’s doing this, but he finds the fox skin pouch with his personal stash of coins and counts out ten denarii. Running back to Steve, he takes his hand and places the coins into his opened palm. “Take this,” he encourages. Steve takes in the sight of the money, his eyes bulging from his head.
“What--?!” the blond starts to sputter.
“Take it,” Bucky presses, closing Steve’s fingers over the coins. “Hide it in your shoes. Find a place for it once you’re alone where no one will know.”
“Master, I cannot take this,” Steve says, frightened. “If it were to be discovered on me - my King would order for my head!”
“I would make sure the blame fell on me,” Bucky argues. He nods, closing his hands over Steve’s. “I’d say that I ordered you to part with them. Nothing bad will happen to you – I’ll make sure of it.”
Steve gives him a pleading look and then makes a frustrated sound. “Why are you doing this?” he demands weakly. “Why?”
“I… I said I don’t know, alright?” Bucky answers. He really doesn’t. It’s starting to sink in just how many mistakes he’s just made tonight. He hates that this might've ust been another one. Sensing Steve’s stubbornness, Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes, saying, “Fine, here.” He grabs the denarii from Steve and tosses the coins away behind him. They scatter across the floor. They stare at each other in silence and then Bucky's gaze softens.
“If you will not accept this gift from me, then... Then you are going to accompany me to the market tomorrow, and you will let me buy you...” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Buy him what? He isn’t supposed to spend his money on anything extra for the servants. “Grapes,” he settles on. He thinks and then adds, “And chocolate. Grapes and chocolate." He isn't even thinking of his words when he continues quickly, really on a roll now, "We’ll eat it together so you don’t have it on your person when we return to the castle. And you won’t fight me on this, understood? Consider this an order.”
Steve looks so confused, it’s almost heartbreaking. Bucky wishes he had an answer – even one for himself would be comforting. Once he’s alone again, he’ll be able to let everything crash down on him and wonder what the fuck he’s just gotten himself into. In the meantime, he’s just desperate. For what, he isn’t sure.
Something in him says it’s probably for Steve. He’ll try to ignore that voice for as long as he can.
“Alright…” Steve finally concedes - a little begrudgingly, his expression guarded. There’s that fire again… “Do not expect to dote on me like this all of the time,” he mutters as an afterthought.
A corner of Bucky’s mouth can’t help but turn up. “Are you giving me orders now?”
Steve’s cheeks go red. Frowning, he meets his eyes and doesn’t seem to know what to say – especially after seeing Bucky’s growing smile. Suddenly, Bucky watches the boy’s mouth purse. Steve tries to fight it, but then the blond is sprouting the tiniest smile back. Stubbornly, he does his best to resist giving into it, making Steve look like he’s tasted something sour.
“Maybe,” he jokes after a long pause.
Bucky’s heart does that very disconcerting thing again where it skips a beat. Putting on a cool face, he nods and straightens. “We’ll have to work on that,” he replies. “You know, if you intend to treat me as though you can give me such commands, you should call me ‘Bucky’ whenever we’re alone. In fact, consider that an order, too. I expect you to call me 'Bucky' from now on, whenever we’re by ourselves. No more ‘your Highness’ or ‘James’, understood?”
Steve looks like he’s about to argue but then thinks better of it. Looking back to the door, Bucky knows their time is out and the page has to get going. Before he opens his mouth to excuse him for the night, the blond asks quietly, “What about ‘Master’, or ‘My Lord’?”
Bucky shivers. Fuck… Retaining his nonchalance, he pretends to think about it and then answers, “I will allow those… on special occasions only.” Such as if I have you spread out beneath me. They both know that’s exactly what he means. “But otherwise, it’s ‘Bucky’.”
“Okay…”
They stare at each other for a moment, and the Prince realizes that neither of them know how to properly say goodbye now. Usually Bucky would just dismiss him distractedly in the past, or say goodnight with a small smirk, and then the blond would shyly echo the sentiment back before skittering away. Now, he feels the urge to kiss him again.
He probably shouldn’t, though. So this time he doesn’t.
“You may go now,” he says.
Steve nods too quickly, already opening the door. “Goodnight,” he replies.
“I beg your pardon?” Bucky asks swiftly, half-joking and half-serious.
Steve freezes and then glances over his shoulder. “Goodnight… Bucky,” he adds in a whisper.
Bucky grins. “Goodnight, Stevie,” he whispers back. He can see the pink in the page-boy’s cheeks as he turns quickly and leaves the room. Bucky’s smile vanishes the second he’s alone… Gets replaced with a frown. Staying where he is for a few minutes, he stares off but sees nothing as he replays everything that just happened in his mind. When he finally moves, it’s to go pick up the strewn denarii from the floor and put them back where they came from.
Slowly, he pads back to the side of his bed and sits on the edge. He stares ahead and replays everything again. He needs to go see his mother; every second he wastes, lost in his thoughts, the longer he’s keeping her waiting.
That doesn’t make him go any faster. Instead, he turns his head and looks to where his and Steve’s bodies had been tangled together less than an hour before. Reaching out, he touches the little dip in the soft mattress. He’ll be himself again by morning. He won’t spend any of his money on his servant; those were just false promises, said in the moment because he wasn’t of his right mind.
It doesn’t matter how happy and surprised and beautiful Steve’s face had looked when he’d had his first taste of that grape. Bucky won’t be phased when he wakes up to the new day; won’t feel his knees get weak when he recalls the little smile his servant had given him, or the way he said his name… When giving himself over to Bucky, or before leaving…
He’ll be himself again by morning. He’ll tell himself this all night if he has to. Bucky always gets what he wants, and this was just… another one of those things. Nothing more. He won’t stay awake all night, lying in that exact spot and breathing in the lingering smell of lavender and replaying what happened for the hundredth time… He certainly won’t consider that maybe this time, he bit off more than he could chew… Went up against what he thought was nothing more than a harmless cat, only to realize it had the heart of a lion all along.
It’s not even a possibility that Bucky Barnes, Prince of Ethrendale, could actually have real feelings for Steve Rogers, the servant. Absolutely no way.
He’ll be himself again by morning.
Yes, he’ll keep telling him this all night if he has to.
(He has to.)
