Chapter Text
The club had a distinct aesthetic. The red and black paint scheme was fairly standard for a BDSM club, but Club Hydra had taken their weird tentacle logo and run with it. From stencils on the walls to a wire and metal art piece looming over everything, it was a bit much. Steve and Tony's usual haunt, SHIELD, was closed for unspecified issues so they had made their way across town to broaden their horizons.
“So did you want to play early or wait?” Steve offered, standing behind Tony as they scanned the space. There was a good crowd of people, which was a good sign. Clumps of people were scattered through the main space with a larger group at one end.
“I think I’d rather wait and get a feel for the place before I take off my pants.” Tony was loose and relaxed against Steve in a way that felt only about 60% performative. His usual mix when in a new space.
“Sure, let me know when you’re ready, or if you’d rather tie tonight,” Steve agreed easily, heading towards the bar to pick up some soft drinks. There was a second floor balcony that overlooked most of the downstairs play space and that looked like the best place to linger while they got a feel for the space. Steve tried to look innocent as he waved Tony up the stairs ahead of him, but accepted the eye-roll and casual smack he got on the shoulder as a reasonable cost for the view.
Once they got up a level, settled against the railing, Steve realized the larger group of people had a focus. There was a show on and he was beautiful.
There were actually two men on the stage. The person doing the tying was all in black with a white X slashed across his T-shirt, but it was the person being suspended who had caught Steve’s attention.
He was gorgeous. His long body hanging from a single suspension line, gleaming skin only interrupted by a brief pair of skintight black shorts, his straining toes just an inch from the relief of the ground. There were other ropes on his body, a hip harness, a thigh wrap, and cuffs dangling off his ankles, but they were just remnants of what had been done, nothing that would help him in what he was currently doing. The only thing left to hold his weight was the chest harness folding his arms behind his back. Two bands of rope crossed his chest and arms, a web over top of that made a little cross of a knot at the base of his throat, and a wrap of rope pulled tight around his lower ribs.
That was a hard position, but amazing. Steve could feel his own breath coming shallower in sympathy as the man started to tire, started to struggle just a little. His shoulders and torso flexed to shift his weight around in what was just not enough rope to ever be comfortable. His hair fell away from his face, and Steve saw that what he’d thought was shadow was actually a black mask covering the lower half of his face. But now Steve could also see the strain and concentration in the tension around his eyes and he added that to the tension in his toes reaching for relief, the twitching in his fingers flexing and rolling, and Steve suspected that this man was very close to the limits of his strength. Steve knew intimately how that rope, how that position, would make breathing a struggle and every moment an eternity.
The person doing the tying was off to the side of the stage, half watching the man in rope, but mostly watching the crowd that had gathered. Steve instantly disliked him. How could you look away when you had someone suffering so prettily for you?
But before Steve could get too judgy, maybe the ignoring was part of the scene, the top stood up, kicked a small block of wood across the stage until it was under the bottom’s straining feet. It wasn’t big, and only a couple inches high, but it gave the man in rope the ability to take some of his own weight. Instantly the man’s head drooped in relief, then tilted back again as the muscles of his leg stood out in sharp definition. Steve suspected that knot near his throat meant that he could easily choke himself if he didn’t keep his posture.
Crouching, the rigger untied the rope from one foot and started brushing his hair back. The strain between the bottom’s eyes lessened at the soft touch, before returning with a vengeance as the rigger closed his fist, roughly tying the rope into his hair. Using that handle, he caught up the ankle again, and started slowly pulling the man’s foot towards his head. The bottom struggled to keep his balance as the curve being forced into his back changed his center of gravity. Steve could see the strain in his neck now carrying the weight of a leg, could see the toes on the block go up a little higher as his hips shifted back. When he’d hit the limits of flexibility, the rigger tied off the line.
Steve frowned, not liking the pressure that would put on the man’s neck.
And then the rigger pulled out a cane.
The first strike hit the inner thigh of the bottom’s supporting leg. He immediately lost his balance on the tiny block. His bound leg jerked, instinctively trying to close to protect himself, yanking at his head in a way that looked incredibly painful. He barely had time to recover before the next strike hit.
Steve had to look away, fists clenching with the desire to intervene. He leaned into Tony where he was watching a flogging on the other end of the room. What was going on on the stage was… beyond his risk profile. Tony looked back at him, likely cued by Steve’s tension. Steve jerked his head towards the stage, “That top’s a jerk.”
Tony grunted as he turned to fully watch, and Steve turned back to the flogging because he couldn’t start punching. “The bottom’s amazing though,” Tony mused.
“Deserves better,” Steve muttered as Tony turned away from the railing and pulled Steve away to explore the rest of the club.
--
It was a nice space, a refitted restaurant if Tony had to guess. There was enough play to keep things interesting, and enough space that you could move around without worrying about accidentally interrupting a scene. The vibe was a little intense, but that might have just been remnants from the performance.
It was finished now, and as Tony walked into the main area he saw the bottom was sitting alone off to the side of the stage. The chest harness was a pile of neatly bundled rope beside him, and he was slowly picking the hip harness apart with trembling fingers. Tony frowned, he hadn’t seen half as much of the performance as Steve, but it didn’t seem fair that he was untying himself alone.
Tony glanced around, noticing the top at the bar, chatting and laughing with a crowd and that felt even worse. It wasn’t really his place to step in, but on the other hand, they were here to meet people. He nudged Steve, “Hey Cap, I’m gonna go make friends.”
Steve followed his line of sight and nodded approvingly. “Looks like you might be going to cause trouble.”
“I’m good at multitasking.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
Tony gave him a quick kiss then slipped off into the crowd. Steve would always have his back.
The man just finished with the last rope, as Tony started across the room, adding its careful coils to the pile beside him and then slumped. Tony hesitated, waiting to see if maybe this was the end of the scene, if his partner or anyone else was finally going to go over to him. But after a minute or two of the man staring vacantly into a crowd who was pointedly ignoring him, Tony decided he wasn’t going to get a better chance and made his approach.
“I just wanted to say, that was amazing. It’s nice to see more rope bottoms built like us,” Tony started. There weren’t that many guys into the bottoming side of rope.
He got a blank stare and now that he was closer Tony had a better sense of just how massive the guy was. Tony felt fairly confident in his own body but they weren’t really in the same category. This guy was in Cap’s category and prior to this Tony had thought Steve was a category of his own.
“I mean, more muscular people?” He backtracked. “Uhh not women? Um no. I’m just gonna stop now.”
Well, there was a flicker of amusement there, so at least Tony had that. He decided to quit while he was ahead. “Anyways, I just wanted to say I know how hard that scene just now was, and it was impressive.”
Tony started to move away when he was interrupted by a low wry voice. “All we do is hang there and look pretty.”
Okay, that was a thing that Tony wasn’t going to let sit as is. Rope bottoming was a skill, damnit. “Yeah, no. We don’t just hang there. There’s like 10,000 things we do to keep ourselves safe, keep the scene good, and make the tops look good. Tops are nothing without us.”
Tony saw the man’s eyes widen slightly, and he grinned, ready to continue his favourite rant but then the other guy shut down again.
“Why are you talking to my Asset?” a voice came from over Tony’s shoulder
“I was just complimenting the scene.” Tony stepped to the side, shifting smoothly away from the voice but keeping both men in sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Steve starting to edge a bit closer.
“I also get tied,” Tony added, because that usually made the insecure Doms less defensive when he was talking to ‘their’ partners. It was even half true. It worked this time too, the man’s demeanor shifted immediately from aggressive to interested.
“Oh do you?” He wasn’t subtle as he leered his way down Tony’s body before landing on his face again. “I’m Crossbones. And this is my Asset.” Crossbones snapped his fingers, pointing to the floor beside his feet. The man he called Asset crawled his way over. “He’s shy.”
“You can call me Ironman.” Tony said. He usually followed that up with a suggestive wink, but he didn’t want to give the guy the opening.
“We should play tonight.” Guess the lack of an opening didn’t matter. Crossbones’ offer sounded more like a statement than a request, and Tony did not want to play tonight or any night. Tony glanced around and Steve materialized out of the crowd, eyes flat and shoulders set firm. He must have been listening.
“I’m here with my Sir,” Tony demurred, reaching out to draw Steve into the conversation. “Sir, this is Crossbones and his Asset.”
Crossbones took that exactly as Tony expected: irritated, but conceding to Steve’s authority. Tony, like Steve, could play with whoever he wanted as long as he was available for any scenes they had planned together. But they both knew that there were some people who didn’t like being told no, so if either of them ever asked permission, the answer was going to be no. It was often smoother than getting into the fight.
Steve just lifted his chin. “I’m Cap.”
“Enjoy your night,” Crossbones said abruptly, apparently no longer interested now that he wasn’t going to get any fresh meat. Tony let Steve pull him away.
“Well, we’ve confirmed he’s an asshole,” Steve said, and that was an understatement.
“His partner was untying himself,” Tony hissed. He knew Steve had seen as clearly as he had, would understand just as well as he did, but he couldn’t really get past that point. The dangerous looking rope could be put off to differing risk profiles, but after such a hard scene the untying was practically a reward. It was the point where he could enjoy the rope without having to constantly judge his safety levels, and melt into all the happy hazy brain chemicals of rope space. And maybe that was also negotiated, but Tony couldn’t imagine being left to just… manage himself. “And he calls him his Asset! That’s not a name, that’s barely even a noun!”
That might be getting a little too judgy but then Tony glanced over his shoulder. Crossbones was still holding court, the Asset was kneeling at his feet. He was listing slightly towards Crossbones’ legs, seeking contact Tony guessed from the vulnerable look in his eyes. Then Crossbones grabbed a handful of his hair to pull him back into proper posture, and Tony decided that he could judge as much as he wanted.
“Did you want to play tonight or do you just want to get out of here?” Steve’s voice drew his attention away, and Tony hesitated. He really wasn’t comfortable here, but he was incredibly curious about the Asset. He didn’t want to leave him.
“Maybe we can just do something simple?” He leaned into Steve’s chest, let himself be wrapped in those strong arms. “Maybe something within Asset’s eye-line?”
He could feel Steve’s pleased hum deep in his chest. “Are you having some ideas?”
“I always have ideas, you know that. You up for being tied?”
--
Tony smoothed out the last ounce of tension between Steve’s eyebrows with the short piece of rope he was using as added texture to his touch. Steve was mostly in his lap, a slack pile of smooth skin and red rope in the cozy nook of what Tony guessed used to be restaurant booths before the space became a BDSM club. It was awfully nice not to have to defend his space, or worry about getting stepped on when doing floor rope. He could just focus on Steve and on finding new ways to make him make those little happy sighs. Tony looked up to see Asset staring at them with a mix of envy and longing. Tony met his eyes with a smile.
The Asset looked away.
--
“Crossbones doesn’t deserve him,” Tony said, the moment he closed the door to the car, giving them some level of privacy after the club.
“Crossbones doesn’t deserve anyone.” Steve let his head fall back against the headrest. He still felt pleasantly hazy from the rope, but that was tinged with the memory of sad eyes watching him every time he looked up.
“Right.” Tony started the car. “So we’re going to continue to go to that weird shitty club and continue to demonstrate to a certain person-”
“All the people,” Steve murmured, not really being able to help himself. Tony didn’t miss a beat.
“-and all the other people, that there are better options until they choose to leave of their own free will and leave Crossbones with nothing but his own hand to play with.”
“Yeah.” The word came out on a breath, and Steve felt the last of the weirdness of the evening melt away. They had a plan. They could do something. “We’re gonna do that.”
Notes:
All comments are welcome! Including keyboard smashes and emojis :D
You can find me elsewhere on Dreamwidth at oper-1895, tumblr at oper1895 and very occasionally twitter @oper_1895
Chapter 2: Taking Advantage
Notes:
Well, a year and a half later, here's chapter 2?
Thanks to the people still commenting and patiently waiting! I've got another 13K drafted, so it should take less than 18 months to get the next chapter out (I'm gonna keep this bar really low). I just wanted to get far enough ahead that I knew I probably wouldn't need to go back and make changes.
There's still no schedule though, so I recommend taking advantage of the subscribe button :DMany many thanks to TheVoidHuntress for plot wrangling and betaing on for the rest of this ❤️
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Did you get the shots?”
Brock’s words barely penetrated the exhausted haze in Bucky’s mind and he didn’t hear the response. He couldn't see Brock, twisted as he was in the suspension, but he felt someone touch the lines keeping him in the air and prayed that it was enough. Not that he could do anything about it if Brock wanted more, his role in today’s activities was to fulfill the aesthetic.
But he was being lowered so he focused on breathing, trying not to anticipate the relief of the ground as he got closer; he knew by now that that just led to the crushing disappointment when he didn’t actually come down. It wasn’t his place to have any opinions about how a scene should go. It was best to just surrender to Brock. That was what he was supposed to do anyway; he was here to submit.
Still, it felt good to reach the ground. The strain of the suspension eased as more of his body was supported by the floor until he was slumped into an exhausted pile, his brain fizzing with the sparkling chemicals and fading adrenaline. God, this was good. This is what he did it all for.
Brock even let him have the time of two deep breaths to savor the moment before he was unceremoniously tugging him upright.
“Come on, I don’t have all day.”
Bucky struggled upright to allow Brock to untie him more easily. Before he knew what was happening, he was alone on the floor of the stage, surrounded by discarded rope, and Brock and his photographer buddy were already halfway to the door.
“You’ve got two hours before we gotta open the club tonight. You know what to do,” Brock ordered casually as he slipped out the door.
Bucky let out his breath in a shudder and carefully stretched out his arms and shoulders as he took a moment to himself, lying on the cool wood of the stage with the smell and feel of jute still imprinted into his skin.
He liked the club, it was familiar both in its quiet potential before the crowds and the loud buzzy excitement of a full house. Between working at Brock’s garage, going to the Crossfit gym owned by one of his buddies, and living in Brock’s social circle, he spent most of his life around people who knew who he was. But it was still different to be at the club on a Saturday night, with the crowds and the people, the buzz of new faces, and the atmosphere of fun and excitement.
He had to admit a certain satisfaction with being allowed to show off how good of a submissive he was and make his Master look good, but he also got to people-watch for the rest of the evening and that was almost better. It was fascinating to watch the new people flutter nervously around the edges, occasionally growing brave enough to try a spanking bench or flogging station. The regulars who came with bags of toys and a plan for the evening. The pickup players who cruised through the crowds looking for interest, and Brock’s friends, the core group who kept a close eye on the whole situation.
There’d been a new couple showing up recently who had caught his eye. One blond and the other dark-haired, they were a striking couple, but they looked like casual regular players. People who enjoyed the scenes, but didn’t live the lifestyle. They weren’t True players, but he liked watching them; they always looked like they had so much fun. Sometimes, he just liked to watch them and imagine what it would be like if those soft smiles and gentle touches were directed toward him.
But Bucky knew that wasn’t for him. He was a rare True Submissive, Brock had explained not long after they’d met. There’d be people who played differently than they did, who treated it all as a game. They weren’t True Submissives or True Dominants and could never really understand what he and Brock had. He’d tried to play with other people not long after Brock had found him. Brock said it was important that he experience other Doms so he understood how special he had it with Brock. And it was true, that play had been disappointing, awkward, and painful. It was nothing like the scenes he had with Brock.
He’d had a different life before, but that went off the rails. Brock had found him at rock bottom and had been there to pick him up and show Bucky his true nature.
Now he had his schedule and he didn’t need to worry anymore. Brock managed his schedule and provided him with a place to work, and all Bucky had to do in return was do as he was told. His life was so much better now that he’d given control over to Brock. He had never been in better shape thanks to the specific exercise and nutrition plan, the apartment was consistently immaculate, and when Bucky was good, Brock would take him out and show him off. Bucky owed Brock everything.
The problem was that Brock was getting busier and busier. The garage. The club. All the glad-handing and meetings with people required to run the club. He used to stay around for a while after playing, now he was more likely to be out the door the moment the rope was off.
But all Bucky could do was be better. So now it was time to get to work.
He winced as he sat up, his left arm still feeling strange. It had started halfway through the photoshoot when Brock had done a quick transition that twisted and pulled sharply. He’d mentioned it, but Brock said everything was in a good spot so Bucky just tried to put it out of his mind so Brock could get his photos. Brock regularly told stories about how many people he’d had the chance to train under, he knew what he was doing. Bucky didn’t want to complain.
But now… his left hand hung limp. He tried to pick up a piece of rope, frowning when he couldn't grip the strand in his strangely numb hand. That was going to be a hassle, but he still had to get his work done. He picked up the rope in his right hand and wove it carefully through the fingers of his left to give it enough tension to straighten out the curls as he coiled it back up.
He loved this part when all the hard stuff was over, and it was just him and the rope. The smell and the sound soothed him as he carefully inspected each piece of rope, one arm’s length at a time. It was important to check it after a scene, to look for areas of damage and wear, clean any debris that got picked up from the floor, and let the tension in the twists settle back to neutral. After inspecting each piece, he carefully coiled it and put it away. He ought to oil it sometime soon, it was looking a little dry, but it could wait a couple of days.
Maybe Brock would let him do it tomorrow as part of his Sunday Chores. That was Bucky’s favorite time for rope maintenance, after the big Saturday night scenes, but Brock often had actual chores that needed doing, or he had corrections to give Bucky about his performance at the club.
He let the time drift into the rhythm of the rope as he settled back into his body.
--
He’d almost taken too long, messing around with the rope. His arm still wasn’t working properly, so he tried to tuck it away as he pulled chairs off of tables, adjusted the lighting, set the temperature for a crowd, and all the hundred other things he had to get done before the door crew showed up. He didn’t have time to dawdle.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Brock asked as Bucky deftly pulled a chair off a table one-handed, and let its own weight flip itself around so he could set it in place.
“I’m sorry, Sir, my hand isn’t working properly.”
“Show me.”
Bucky held out his left arm, his hand hanging limp and useless. Usually, when he felt numb or weak after a scene, it faded within a couple minutes. Maybe some numbness would linger up to a day. But this hasn’t improved at all. He must have really fucked something up.
Brock gave him a cursory inspection and then scoffed, “Well you screwed that up. I was going to perform with you tonight, but I can’t have you up there injured.”
“No, Sir,” Bucky agreed, feeling his heart sink. Hopefully, it would clear up by tomorrow, or else this was going to significantly impact his ability to serve Brock, and Brock was already less likely to play with him. He had already done a bunch of meal prep when Brock had been out with friends on Friday, so he could get by for maybe a week if he planned properly.
“We’ll put you in the box tonight. It’ll be good for you to keep quiet while you’re injured.”
Bucky tried to keep his face neutral. “Yes, Sir.”
The box wasn’t his favorite thing, it was essentially an upright coffin with a one-way viewing window. Not only was he not going to be able to show off this evening, but he’d also be shut away from watching anyone else. But Brock was right in that it was good to keep quiet when injured.
Just before the club opened its doors, Bucky went to the box without protest. He supposed he deserved it, for letting himself get injured. At least he could still hear the party.
--
They had been coming regularly, mostly to watch the Asset, who was a very very good partner. Tony could see how he was managing himself to make Crossbones’ shitty rope look as good as it did. He was also a heavy masochist, dopey and soft after pain. Crossbones didn’t deserve him and Tony didn’t understand. It was bothering him.
As far as Tony could tell, they had some kind of high-protocol dynamic. The Asset was usually ignored between scenes, either left in a corner or kneeling at Crossbones’ feet like a prop. And that would be fine. Tony was all for some good protocol play and parties were an excellent time to do it. It made sense that they’d have a heavy dynamic at parties. But…
Hydra had an excellent advertising campaign aimed at the club crowd who wanted to walk on the wild side, which was bringing in enough new blood to keep the place hopping. They couldn’t push too hard on any strict protocols and keep that group. And when he’d asked around, gently probing around the Asset, there’d been one distinct theme to the responses; ‘He’s a True Submissive.’
Crossbones and his crew couldn’t push the One True Way as heavily as they probably wanted without pushing away the occasional players who were keeping the lights on, but there seemed to be layers. The regular players Tony would see at any club, had seen some of them at SHIELD, with a range of skill and intensity but generally, everyone looked like they were having fun. And then there was Crossbones’ group, the Strike Team, who were playing an entirely different game.
As far as Tony could tell, once you were in that group you were 24/7, or you were never seen at the club again.
But now he recognized the look in Crossbones’ eyes as he made his way across the room. Tony was surprised it had taken him this long to get curious and start asking around.
“You weren’t entirely forthcoming when we first met,” Crossbones said as he came up beside Tony and Steve.
“We’re just here as regular partygoers,” Tony said distractedly, scanning the area for the suspiciously absent Asset.
“But you’re not, are you? You’re the famous Sigh Ropes.”
“That we are.”
“I’ve been meaning to get a handmade set for a while.”
Of course, he had. Their rope-making business had started as a personal project that had slowly grown to take up as much time as they had to give it. They offered machine-made, machine-assisted, and fully handmade rope. The handmade had a certain cachet, being a pain in the ass to make, and was priced as such with a limited number of sets available each year.
“The waitlist is significant for those,” Tony demurred.
“I have a thought," Crossbones began, and Tony braced himself, could feel Steve tense beside him where he was busy scanning the crowd and pretending Crossbones didn’t exist. "My Asset. I’ll loan him to you for a while in exchange for a set. He can be very useful; that could free up some time for you to work, provide a little stress relief...”
Steve gave Tony an excited little elbow that was probably harder than he intended but he knew what Steve was thinking though - this could be the opportunity they’d been waiting for. A chance to get to know the mysterious Asset away from this club and Crossbones. But first, details. “How big of a set?”
“Dozen pieces, 9 meters.”
“How long is he available each day?”
Brock stared at him assessingly but answered easily enough. “From 6:30 to midnight Monday to Friday. Saturday from 8 am until Sunday at midnight.”
"Not much time for himself."
"He doesn't need time for himself."
“One month,” Tony proposed. That’d give them time to actually make the rope, feel him out, and maybe teach him something if it was a happy dynamic and he actually wanted to make a set for this jerk.
“Fine, but he’s here every Saturday from 6 pm to 10 am Sunday. I need him for the party.”
Tony grinned, feeling a flutter of satisfaction and a thrill of anticipation. “Cap?”
“Done.”
“I’ll have him delivered to you on Monday and will email you his limits. There aren’t many." Crossbones stepped back with a grin, "I’ll let you gentlemen get back to your evening.”
Tony watched Crossbones walk away, tracking him across the room through the crowd. He stopped near a tall wooden box and Tony nudged Steve as Crossbones opened the box. There was the missing Asset, shoved in a space barely wide enough for his shoulders. Tony gritted his teeth as the man wavered slightly, listing towards the now open door. Crossbones stopped his movement with a hand on his throat, pinning him against the back of the box.
Crossbones held him there for a moment, then Crossbones stepped back, and turned away to talk to one of his set of groupies as he shut the door. Only Steve and Tony saw the Asset’s hand come up, reaching out for a moment before the door was shut in his face.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch anyone more,” Steve mused beside him.
--
Bucky felt his heart start pounding when he heard Brock enter the room. He couldn’t see, he was in his proper waiting position, back to the door, facing the wall. This was where he spent at least half an hour every evening, waiting in the playroom, available if Brock wanted to play. And for the first time in weeks, Brock was here. Bucky kept himself carefully and properly still. Perfectly positioned.
Brock hadn’t been interested lately, but Brock had said they could scene after the photoshoot. And Bucky had spent yesterday evening at the club in the box because of his injury. This could be it.
It was Brock’s right, of course, to choose when they played. Bucky was here to serve Brock. So he didn’t begrudge Brock the evenings that he’d wait, kneeling, until the timer went off. It was important to not have expectations, that wasn’t his place. Besides, the waiting had a certain type of satisfaction. Not as much as actually getting to scene, but Brock had said that keeping to a schedule was important. And if nothing else, it gave him time to plan grocery lists.
But today, Brock was here. Bucky knelt with his hands folded neatly behind his back barely daring to breathe.
“Are you still defective?”
Bucky’s stomach sank and he tried to clench his hand, a futile hope. It didn’t respond. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir,” he said to the wall.
“That’s okay. You can still be useful,” Brock said, casually but Bucky could hear him walking towards the door. Bucky bit back the wash of disappointment. “I’m loaning you out for a month. Evenings only, I still expect you to keep up with all your chores. I’ll update your calendar.”
Bucky bit his lip, and exhaled carefully. It was Brock’s prerogative to scene with him or not. It wasn’t his place to make any decisions. “Yes, Sir.”
He heard Brock shut the door as he left.
The alarm hadn’t gone off yet. Bucky figured he had somewhere around twenty minutes to try and remember what was left in the crisper.
--
“Tony!” Steve bellowed. He could hear cursing from the other side of the loft and suspected Tony was looking at the same thing he was.
“His limits are mutilation and haircuts?!”’ Tony yelled back, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was also looking at the limits list for The Asset that Crossbones, Brock as he had signed, had sent along.
“He needs to be ‘kept in his place’ and ‘shouldn’t be spoiled with too much attention?” Steve read incredulously, only slightly softer as Tony came into the room.
“Time should be rigorously controlled,” Tony bit back, waving his cell phone at Steve.
“‘Order comes through pain’?”
“Fuck him,” Tony said, viciously
“Fuck him,” Steve agreed.
Notes:
All comments are welcome! Including keyboard smashes and emojis :D
You can find me elsewhere on Dreamwidth at oper-1895, tumblr at oper1895 and very occasionally twitter @oper_1895
Chapter 3: Making Friends
Notes:
So you'll notice two things:
1. Less than a year between updates! The bar is on the ground, but I cleared it!
2. This now has a defined number of chapters. I have all my fingers crossed but I should be able to get this posted before/around the new year. Many thanks to TheVoidHuntress for the final beta push to get this over the finish line!
Chapter Text
“I love you,” Tony said as Steve walked out of the kitchen. Steve was practically glowing, backlit as he was by the sunlight streaming through the wide windows and Tony took a moment to admire the view before reaching for one of the two coffee mugs Steve was carrying.
“Was that for me or the coffee?” Steve grinned.
“You, obviously you, my best beloved.”
“You’re laying it on a little thick there,” Steve said, but he leaned in and accepted a kiss from Tony in exchange for the mug so Tony counted it as a win. He inhaled the rich scent of the coffee and snuggled in a little closer to Steve once he sat down. They were going to have to talk about their plans this morning but that was for after coffee. This little morning ritual was their time to just be with each other.
Still he couldn’t help but think about the Asset. He knew that a good chunk of his impulse was the desire to rescue the man from his situation, but they really had no idea what was going on with him and White Knighting never helped anyone. On the other hand, not taking advantage of this opportunity felt like a waste. It didn’t really feel like the man needed rescuing so much as he needed information and a different perspective. Those were both things that Steve and Tony could offer in good conscience. But it could be a delicate needle to thread…
“Coffee done?” Steve’s voice interrupted Tony’s thoughts and he blinked the world back into focus again. He looked down at his mug and was mildly surprised to find it empty. He leaned forward to put it on the coffee table next to Steve’s.
“Yeah, I’m done.”
“Ready to talk about it?”
Tony sighed, “As ready as I’m going to be.”
“We don’t-” Steve started, but Tony waved him off.
“No, I want to, it’s good.” This wasn’t a problem that was going to go away if they ignored it. “It’s just a mess.”
“Yeah it is. But I think I’ve figured out the root of the mess: all that stuff in the club about True Submissives, True Doms.” Steve started slowly, like he was still feeling his way through the idea.
“You think he’s been told he’s a true submissive.”
“And I think he believes it. I don’t think Brock does, but I think the Asset believes it. But I don’t know what to do with that.”
Well that was an interesting detail, and made some things make a bit more sense. But if he’d bought into that whole idea, where he was inherently submissive and needed to be controlled by a Dominant… “How can we negotiate with him if he doesn’t believe he can say no?”
“Exactly.”
That was the rub of it. The instructions from Brock were nothing, and if they couldn’t trust the Asset to negotiate in good faith with them, and not some fabricated version of them as Doms, how could they play with him? But if they rejected him, who knows how Brock would respond to that. Who knew how the Asset would respond to that. Maybe he’d wanted to play with them and this was just the framework that he wanted to play within? They needed more information, and Tony knew who might have it. “I think we should call Natasha.”
Steve grinned at him. “I’ll give her a call.”
–-
The diner was mostly empty in the post-lunch pre-dinner gap, so Natasha would have been easy to spot even without her fiery red hair. She was waiting for them with a pot of tea and a plate of fries and didn’t waste much time with pleasantries, barely letting them sit down before she started. “So you’re playing with the Asset?”
“We have the opportunity to play with him,” Steve clarified. “We haven't fully decided on what to do with that.“
“What do you know about him?” Tony asked. Natasha had web spread throughout the scene. If anyone was going to have actual information it was going to be her.
“Not much, but I have heard about him. Rumors mostly, but the foundation they’re built on is substantiated. From what I’ve heard, Brock picked him up at a pretty rough point in his life, and gave him some structure and stability and then twisted him all up around that. He works for Brock’s buddy, works-out at Brock’s other buddy’s gym. Brock’s got him convinced he’s a true submissive and would never be happy in any other relationship. He’s subservient to Brock, I’m sure you’ve seen that.”
Tony could see Steve nodding along beside him. “That whole True Sub thing was what we were afraid of. What about when he’s not with Brock?”
“That’s been harder to find. But he’s loaned out occasionally, Nick had him for a night, some protocol event he needed serving staff for. Brock didn’t show, I’m guessing the rules about appropriate conduct were too restrictive for him,” she said, her voice laced heavily with derision. “But Asset showed with Brock’s apologies. He did well, and, most importantly for you, told some guy who was getting too handsy to back off and respect the rules.”
“The rules of the event, not his personal rules?”
“Yeah, Nick noticed that too. But he still enforced a boundary with someone, even if it was using an outside reason as an excuse.”
“That’s something,” Tony said, feeling a little more optimistic about everything. Maybe he thought he only had to obey the orders of True Doms and he was perfectly within his right to tell him and Steve to eat shit. That’d be useful.
“We could put up some appropriate conduct posters up,” Steve mused.
“Might be a little condescending if we’re wrong?
Steve shrugged. “It is a workspace and we have hosted parties there. It’s reasonable to have some standards. Throw some rope dust at it and it’ll look like it’s been there for years.”
“Worth a try I guess. Do you anything else that’d be useful?”
Natasha sighed. “Not much. He’s polite and well mannered. He really does seem to enjoy playing, I don’t think Brock’s manipulations would be nearly as effective if he didn’t get something from it.”
“Alright,” Tony said. He’d been hoping for more, but feared less. “He’s coming over tomorrow after work. Comfort levels. Go”
“I’m comfortable with him helping. I’m comfortable with hanging out with him. I still really don’t know how I feel about play,” Steve said carefully.
“Yeah. Same. Okay, let’s play it out.” Tony leaned forward on his elbows. “End goals?”
“Show him there’s something better than Brock.”
“Good goal,” Natasha said, leaning back to sip at her tea. “That doesn’t involve playing with him. It could be playing in front of him?”
“Yeah, I like that.” Steve said, nodding. “But see how he is with Brock. You’ve seen the limits list. If he actually likes to play, what are the chances he’s going to interpret not being played with as a punishment?”
“Reasonably high,” Natasha admitted. “I don’t think Brock’s wrong in identifying that kink really works for the Asset.”
“So, we keep things low key,” Steve said. “We’re getting him to cover the work while we make Brock’s set. So we let him work-”
Tony opened his mouth to protest but Steve cut him off.
“-if he wants. We’ll pay him even if we have to hold that in reserve for him. Give him the choice to leave too. If he’s really into the True Sub thing then the work will probably hit the same as service and we get to know him and go from there. We have a month.”
That didn’t sound terrible. Steve was right that the combination of some helpful tasks around the job, plus the general ropey environment, and heavy praise would probably keep it from feeling like a rejection. “So, best case scenario is he shows up, we negotiate, everyone’s happy. Comfort levels with that?” Tony asked.
“The usual,” Steve confirmed. “Worst case scenario: he seems coerced.”
“Let him work or let him leave. I don’t think rejecting this offer and sending him back to Brock will do anyone any good.”
“Agreed.” Natasha took a slow sip of her tea. Tony felt a little more settled now that the unknowns were a little more known. There would be no way to make this safe. But safer counted for a lot. He looked over at Steve who grinned at him, and reached out to squeeze Tony’s hand.
“No one’s going to do anything that they’re not comfortable with.”
That was the foundation of everything, even if they had to keep a closer eye on the Asset to make sure it stayed true for him.
–-
“Oh hey, right on time,” Tony said, backing away to let them man in, feeling a weird mix of anticipation and apprehension. “I’m Tony. Come on in. Leave your shoes on. Steve’s upstairs, we’ll do intros there.”
The Asset blinked at him, but followed willingly enough as Tony led him through the open area of the warehouse up to the living space. It wasn’t huge, used mostly when they couldn’t be bothered to make the trek back to their home after playnights, or when they didn’t want to worry the neighbors. But they’d held a couple of parties here, and it was well stocked. There was a functional kitchen, a heavenly bathroom, a couple of reasonably sized bedrooms and a big open living space.
Steve was just finishing setting up the snacks on the coffee table with a couch on one side, cozy armchair on the other, and a smattering of cushions across the floor. They were probably overthinking it, but they wanted to make sure that the Asset had options. Steve looked up, smiling in that earnest kind of way that made people want to confess their secrets.
“Hey, I’m Steve. Have a seat. Help yourself to the food.”
The man looked confused still, but he folded himself down onto the cushions and eyed the food warily before picking a couple nuts and some of the raw vegetables to put on his plate. But he didn’t eat anything. Instead he just watched them, eyes narrowing as they also sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch. It was important that everyone be on the same level of negotiations, metaphorically or not.
Tony popped a bit of fruit into his mouth, wondering if maybe the Asset was waiting for his hosts to start eating, but he just sat there placidly with precise posture. Well, might as well get this started.
“I’m not sure how often you get ‘Loaned Out’ or what the usual deals are but this is the first time that we’ve had a session negotiated by someone else, and that’s kind of weird for us. But we’ve got lots of time. So first, this is just getting to know each other and making sure we were all on the same page. Is this something you regularly do?”
The Asset eyed them a little warily, but he didn’t hesitate before answering. “It happens occasionally. I’m happy to serve however my Master wants me to.”
It was a very precise answer that didn’t tell Tony much. “Okay, not sure how much you’ve been told, but we run a rope business, hence the…” Tony trailed off, waving his hand vaguely towards the work floor. “Crossbones wants a set of our rope and has given you to work with us in exchange.”
The Asset’s eyes went a little flat. Tony paused, trying to figure out what might have triggered the change. Steve gamely picked up the thread of conversation
“But we want you to have a good time here, so we’ll let you know some options and you can let us know if any of them sound good to you.”
“I’m not sure if you were fully informed-” The asset started his voice low and careful, and he was staring determinedly at his plate. “-but I’m currently defective.” He held up his left arm, and his hand was hanging limp and unresponsive. Radial nerve injury. Wrist drop.
“You can send me back if you want.” The Asset said into the silence.
“We’re not going to do that.” Tony said, feeling anger coiling in his chest. Steve put a calming hand on his shoulder and Tony let himself settle. It could be nothing. It was a risk everyone should be aware of, especially doing the things that he’d seen the Asset doing, and while sometimes an injury was just bad luck, it could also be someone being an inconsiderate asshole. And he didn’t trust Crossbones.
“What happened?” Steve asked.
“It was a photoshoot on Friday. I wasn’t good enough. It’s getting better though and I’m getting better at working around it.”
“With Crossbones?” Tony was glad that Steve asked and he wasn’t surprised when the Asset nodded in response.
Of course it was Crossbones. The absolute asshole. And of course the Asset thought it was his fault. Tony instantly regretted giving him the benefit of the doubt. From now on, everything was Crossbones fault unless explicitly and definitively proven otherwise.
Steve inhaled, then let out a slow breath. While he looked calm, Tony knew that if he suggested dropping by to punch Brock in the face, he’d barely have time to get the words out before Steve would be in the car. But as satisfying as that would be, it wasn’t going to help anyone. Instead Tony continued talking, brushing past the moment of awkwardness like it had never happened.
“Okay, first, you were definitely good enough. I’ve seen you in rope. Second, We’re not going to send you back unless you want to go back. We’ve seen you at the club and this was an excellent opportunity to get to know you better, and thirdly, there’s a bunch of different things that need doing, so let's talk a bit about what you like to do and what we like to do and see if we can find the overlap.”
-–
“Well, that went weird,” Tony said, settling against the railing overlooking the shop floor beside Steve.
“It wasn’t the usual,” Steve admitted, not looking away from where the Asset was contently sorting rope. They’d tried to negotiate, and the Asset had been… agreeable. Steve had dabbled in the occasional 24/7 weekend, and had friends in the scene who had a more full time dynamic but there was still room in those dynamics to meet as equals. Steve was pretty sure that the conversation they just had wasn’t a meeting of equals. But the Asset had nodded along seriously when they explained the rules of the shop and Steve thought that maybe he’d seen a bit of relief in his expression. It was still so hard to tell though. “What do you think?”
“He did admit that he likes rope. That looked honest.”
That was true. He’d lit up, subtly but definitely, when they had brought up rope, and with that reference point they’d managed to put a couple more activities into the likely pile for if they felt comfortable enough to play.
For now, the man in question was currently sorting through a bin of rope, soft contentment on his face even as he fumbled with his left hand. The bin was offcuts, pieces not long enough to be sold as standard. They usually bundled these together by colour and offered them for sale at their live events - shorts were always useful but the hassle of inventory kept them from offering these online- but they’d been putting off the chore of going through the bin and sorting and bundling lengths. It’d probably keep him busy for a couple days, and there was no rush.
The Asset had come with a User’s Guide that detailed his skills, his strict nutrition plan, and a listing of rules and associated punishments, along with a brief outline of his schedule. There was a note that withdrawing attention and ‘icing him out’ was particularly effective, so Steve was very glad they had decided a way to use him and wondered if sending the Asset to them was a punishment in itself.
The schedule modifications had shown that his work day had been shortened to allow for the hours he was spending with them, an accommodation for his injury apparently. But they didn’t cut his gym time or his expectations that he’d complete all his chores. Tony had pulled up the addresses on the schedule and confirmed their suspicions. Club Hydra was a section of a larger strip of buildings, the Crossfit Gym that was in the same strip, along with the garage where he worked, all owned by Brock and his cronies.
He didn’t know what Brock thought he was doing, sending him here when he knew that the Asset was injured, but he had guesses and none of them were complimentary. There was no way they were going to send him back before this was done. If nothing else they’d be able to give him time to rest and heal.
Chapter 4: Poking Holes
Notes:
Note some updated tags! I think that's covered to the end of the fic now.
Chapter Text
Brock was on the couch, beer in hand, and looking for a blowjob when Bucky got home and Bucky was happy to sink to his knees. Brock hadn’t shown much indication of wanting to interact with him since the injury and Bucky didn’t want to waste the opportunity.
But Brock didn’t say anything. No praise, no hint of what was going on. Bucky tried his best to draw it out, to make it good, but it wasn’t long before Brock became impatient with him and Bucky simply opened up to let Brock fuck his face. After that, it didn’t take long, but Brock was satisfied and Bucky waited for… something. Anything.
But Brock still didn’t say anything, he just stood up, finished his beer and walked off to the bedroom shutting the door behind him.
Bucky was left kneeling by the couch and wondering what he had done wrong.
Things used to be fun here. Sure it was hard work, but that was because he was a True Submissive. Fulfillment came from hard work. And in return he had the moments of transcendent bliss when the world went away and all he was was his body and his Master.
It was a far cry from where he was now, alone on his knees on rough carpet, with a bruised throat, surrounded by empty beer cans.
But there was no point in wallowing. Bucky pushed that all down, went to the bathroom to clean up, then went to the closest to pull out the bedroll they stored there. If Brock didn’t invite him, he wasn’t allowed in bed or on the furniture. He rolled it out and tried to think of how considerate Brock had been, making sure that Bucky would still be comfortable. They’d picked this out together, when they were building their life together. Bucky had been proud when Brock had explained the rules, and explained how Bucky was someone unique, someone special.
Curling up on the thin mat, it was hard to remember how to feel special.
–-
The next morning Brock didn’t say much, but that was normal. Brock wasn’t a morning person, that’s why it was Bucky’s job to get everything ready for his day. He rushed through the meal prep so it would be all ready for Brock this evening and carefully weighed out his lunch to make sure he was hitting the macro requirements Brock had set. Brock didn’t need lunch today, he’d be eating out for lunch all week, so that was one less thing on Bucky’s to do list. It was nice of Brock to do this, so Bucky didn’t have to work as hard while he was recovering.
But everything was just hard. He did his best at the gym despite the sensation of failure as he struggled through a modified version of the day's workout. He kept his head down during work, and rushed home early to get Brock’s dinner in the oven before he finished the chores for the day.
It took longer than he thought, everything was taking longer than he thought, but he was taking dinner out of the oven when Brock walked in.
“You’re gonna be late” Brock sniffed, sitting down at the couch with a sigh.
“I’ll eat on the way.” Bucky could just have one of those protein bars that Brock approved of in the car. Cutting food was hard. It’d be easiest anyway.
“I won’t be here when you get home. Might not be back before the morning. I expect you to keep to your routine.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Bucky said as he carefully plated Brock’s dinner one handed. It took two trips to bring him his plate and his drink, but Bucky was only running a couple minutes late when he finally got out to his car. Without the protein bar. He let his head thunk against the steering wheel and gave himself a moment.
He’d missed meals before, it was fine. There might even be food again at Steve and Tony’s. It was just the change in routine that was making this hard. He could do it. He just had to give himself time to adjust. Everything would be fine.
–-
Steve was watching as Tony led the Asset up the stairs, only absently noting that the Asset was late. That wasn’t a problem, probably a benefit really. This rope business was a hobby that spun widely out of control, not a full time job, so while they could find things for the Asset to do, they didn’t have a month worth of work for him. Late wasn’t a problem.
But Steve wasn’t quite sure the best way to tell him that, not with the faintly harried look on his face combined with a tinge of fear. Brock was probably a stickler for punctuality.
Steve could hear Tony talking before they crested the top of the stairs, but Steve didn’t notice what he was saying. He was busy tracking the expression on Bucky’s face as he scanned the living room and looked… disappointed? Not disappointed, more like a pessimistic expectation was met. Steve glanced around the room and tried to figure out what it might have been. There couldn’t be much, there was only one day of experience. But yesterday they had food. Steve could fix that.
“Hey, welcome. I’m just gonna grab some snacks and then we can chat.”
He could see Tony was thrown a little, they’d just had dinner, but he followed Steve’s lead easily enough and kept the light chatter going while Steve slipped back into the kitchen. No one would go hungry in their house.
–-
No one made any comment on Bucky’s lateness.
Bucky had thought they’d just give him a list and let him get to work on the floor, now that he knew what was going on. But instead Tony brought him upstairs and Steve disappeared into the kitchen to bring out food, then they just sat and chatted for a while, discussing what they did that day and what their plans were for this week. And they included him in the conversation, just like he belonged there.
It felt good to have someone appreciate what he was doing for Brock, and ask him how his day had gone. And he was grateful for the food, it was harder without a scale but he could estimate pretty well by now. Bucky would still hit his targets for the day and Brock would be happy even though he was probably annoyed that Bucky needed help to do it. He was supposed to be self-sufficient. But he was still getting used to the new routine. This would be fine. He could still make it work.
After food, Bucky went down to the floor with the list of tasks they’d generated together. He’d been loaned out for work before, but usually it was either scut work that no one else wanted to do, or the type of play ‘work’ that he was good at. Either way, he usually spent much more time on his knees.
Instead these two had laid out clear expectations of actual legitimate work. It hadn’t required a lot of brain power so far, but it was better than things like scrubbing grout with a toothbrush, or digging holes just to fill them in again because his temporary owners liked the way he looked when he was sweating in the sun.
And there was a kind of soft comfort to the work, it wasn’t the grind of the garage where there was always more work and it was never done well enough. Steve and Tony were generous with their praise, careful with their instructions, and the posters of rules around the place gave a kind of comfort. He knew what to expect. A True Submissive always followed the rules. He didn’t know when the Submission would come into the work, but they were Switches. Maybe they didn’t know how to do that with him. Maybe it would just be this for the month. That wouldn’t be that bad.
He still got to spend the day touching rope, and that was always good. Just the smell of it was enough to make something in him go still and calm, and just maybe he could carry some of that back home with him to soothe the sting of Brock’s increasing strangeness.
Brock didn’t come home a single night that week.
–-
On the fourth day Tony answered the door, looking rumpled, shirt buttoned wrong, and hair a mess. “I’m sorry!” He said before Bucky even had a chance to blink.
“Tony?” Steve’s voice echoed from upstairs.
“I’ll be right back!”
“Okay,” Steve acquiesced, soft and slurred.
“I’m so sorry, Steve got the afternoon off and we lost track of time. He’s still coming down.” Tony ran his hand through his hair again, pushing it well past his usual artful tousle into outright dishevelment. “You can come in if you want, dinner’s in the oven, or go somewhere else. I’ll give you cash. We’ll tell Brock whatever you need if that’s a concern.”
Coming down from what? But either way Bucky didn’t have anywhere else to go. “It’s fine.”
“Okay. Good. Great.” And Tony turned and went back upstairs.
Bucky followed him cautiously, not entirely sure of what to expect.
He wasn’t expecting Steve propped up on a plastic-draped adjustable table, draped in a disposable sterile sheet, with a sharps container next to him.
“Heeey,” Steve slurred at him, grinning wide.
“I’m so sorry, needles don’t usually hit him this hard.”
There was a sealed clear plastic bag of bloody disposable towels, and a surprisingly large number of empty needle boxes.
“Do you do needles often?”
“Needles are great,” Steve announced, and Bucky guessed that was all the answer he was going to get, as Tony immediately turned his attention back to Steve.
“Yeah, they are,” Tony agreed, running his hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve smiled up at him. “How are you doing?” Tony peaked under the sheet, and, apparently satisfied that nothing was bleeding beyond the existing bandages, pulled it off to dispose of it before helping Steve into a clean, dark shirt.
Bucky had done needles before. Brock didn’t like them, all the procedures around blood made it awkward to do at the club. They had some nice photos though. He remembered the sweet burn of pain, the sensitivity of the skin over the needle. How it lit him up.
He remembered feeling like Steve looked. Glowing at the attention he got as Brock paraded him around the one time they did it in public.
But afterwards, Brock had taken them out, wiped him down, and Bucky was handed a pile of band-aids in case anything started bleeding again, and he was left alone while Brock did his thing, because that was how it went. He was supposed to be self-sufficient.
Tony, meanwhile, was wrapping Steve in a blanket, carefully leading him to the couch. Bucky just stood to the side, watching while Tony bustled and made sure Steve had a tray with water and snacks on the side table closest to him, but as soon as Tony sat down next to him, Steve tipped over into Tony’s lap, away from the carefully laid out preparations.
Tony sighed, but he looked fond as he nodded towards the tray. “Do you mind?”
Bucky carefully relocated it to the coffee table where both Steve and Tony could reach, then sat down on the chair on the other side, feeling awkward and uncertain.
“Sorry about that.”
“Is all this...'" Bucky waved at the blankets, the snacks, the contact, "usual?”
“Well, aftercare of some sort is a requirement when we play. Sometimes it’s a little bit lighter, but Steve went flying pretty high today.” Tony’s voice was casual, easy. “And it's not just for the bottoms. I need to know my partners are okay, physically and mentally.”
“Same me,” Steve mumbled into Tony’s thigh.
“Same with Steve when he tops,” Tony confirmed. “It’s pretty standard.”
“I won’t… we don’t do that.” Bucky said, and he didn’t say ‘true subs don’t need aftercare’ which was Brock’s line. Aftercare was only for the people who treated it as play. But the number of needle packages didn’t look like the casual players at the club, who just wanted a little slap to their tickle...
“Well, it doesn’t have to look like this for everyone after every scene. Aftercare is just whatever you need to come back to your baseline. It can just be some conversation, or water, or a bit of time in the same space. Or cuddles, or sex, or praise. Whatever.” Tony leaned forward to snag a couple berries.
“He used to want those sugar bomb whipped frothed pumped monstrosities from Starbucks.” Steve murmured from Tony’s lap, sounding fond.
“And now you’ve converted me to berries and cheese.” Tony replied as he brushed the fruit against Steve’s lips. Steve didn’t even open his eyes, just opened his mouth, trusting that whatever Tony was giving him was going to be good. Tony had leaned back into his chair, head tilted to the ceiling, looking pleased and satisfied with Steve curled against his lap Tony’s hand in his hair.
And something in Bucky suddenly ached. Brock hadn’t been around, so Bucky had slept alone. He’d barely spoken to Bucky all week. He knew he was supposed to be self-sufficient, he wasn’t supposed to burden Brock with his wants. But he wanted that. He wanted to not have to drag himself out of the haze to take care of himself. He wanted someone to keep him safe and let him enjoy the afterwards. He wanted someone to feed him berries and pet his hair.
He needed to not be here. “You want me to finish packing those orders?”
“If you want. You don’t have to do anything though.”
“I’ll come back up for dinner.”
That’d give him some time to get his head straight.
–-
Dinner that night was quiet and competitive. But even with the distraction of the play, Steve and Tony had still put together the meal full of foods that Bucky could eat with his nutrition plan. Even though Bucky doubted Brock even noticed that Bucky was still trying.
He wasn’t made for normal relationships, he tried to tell himself. He was a True Submissive who could never be fulfilled by anyone but a True Dominant. It was nice that these Switches had found something with each other with their play but Bucky would never be satisfied here.
He kept telling himself that all the way home.
The apartment was dark again when he got home. Aside from the one silent blowjob, Brock had been either away every night this week. He knew it was the Dom’s prerogative to do whatever he wanted, and the Submissive's role to follow the rules.
Bucky sighed, and quietly started cleaning up in preparation for the next morning. Back when he’d started, this was full of a quiet joy of service. Now it was starting to feel like work. Less than work. The work he did with Steve and Tony felt better than this.
Could a Sub be a Sub if their Dom didn’t even notice them anymore?
Bucky hesitated when he went to the closet, the thin mat and sparse blankets weren’t compelling. Brock wouldn’t know if he slept on the bed. Or the couch even. But in the end he couldn’t trust that this night would be the night that Brock came home.
It took him a long time to fall asleep. Brock arrived the next morning in time to demand coffee and breakfast before they went off to work.
–-
“This is cruel and unusual, Steve,” Tony said, sighing as he hauled another spool of rope over to where they were working. It was for a good cause, he knew. This batch was being sold at cost to SHIELD so they could sell it online, to make up for the lack of income while they were closed. But still, they’d been at it for a while. “It’s Friday night.”
“We promised we’d get the stock order delivered tomorrow Tony, would you rather get up early and finish then?”
“Yes,” Tony muttered, feeling a little belligerent. Then he paused and actually considered the answer. “Yes. Actually, yes. I’d rather do this tomorrow morning. Everything’s made, there’s like an hour of cutting and packaging. We promised delivery before 10 and that’s lots of time.”
Steve was gaping slightly, but then smiled slowly, and dropped the rope he was starting to bundle. Started clearing off the station.
“Hey Asset,” Tony called across the room. “Come ‘ere. We’re taking the night off!”
He looked up, a little bewildered from where he was filling boxes.
“You want pizza? Or... Salad? We could hard boil some eggs for protein?”
The Asset was walking over to them slowly, cautious and a little wary, “I like pizza.”
Tony blinked. He knew pizza wasn’t on the list of approved foods, but he tried not to react outwardly. “Great, pizza for everyone. Come on upstairs. We’ll put on a movie. We might even break out the fancy sodas.”
And the Asset hovered around the edge of the room while the couch was rearranged to face a blank wall, and a small pile of cables and electronics appeared and Tony had just made Netflix appear on the wall when the pizza arrived.
The Asset ate half a pizza with a look of pleasure that was almost sweet, then fell asleep halfway through the movie.
--
Steve and Tony were already making good progress on the final packing when The Asset arrived. So Steve just swapped off with the Asset, leaving him to fill the boxes while Steve carried them out to the truck and they fell into the rhythm just as easily as if he’d been with them for years.
“Right on time,” Sam said, grinning as he greeted Steve with a hug.
“Would we be anything else?” Tony asked as he popped open the back of the truck.
“Well,” Sam hedged and Tony rolled his eyes.
“Would Steve be anything else?”
“That’s the truth.”
The Asset reached to grab a box, but instead Steve shoved a clipboard into his hands. “Here, you take care of the paperwork.”
That got him the narrow eyed look that said the Asset knew full well what Steve was doing, but he didn’t push back so Steve pointed him towards where Coulson was setting up the SHIELD information table, and instructions to feel free to wander when he was done, and went back to unloading.
The location was slightly incongruous, a hotel ballroom with spanking benches and crosses set up on dated industrial carpet, but with SHIELD temporarily unavailable and Hydra off the table, there were limited options to host this educational event. Plus the hotel was a neutral, unintimidating space.
And the open double doors leading into the room from the outside were a convenient way to load in the bulkier gear. And as someone who had lugged his share of spanking benches up flights of stairs, Steve appreciated a location that was designed to offload equipment.
“You wanna help me carry some of this around to Coulson's car?” Sam said, “We’re not going to sell off of it today and we don’t really have the space to spare for boxes around the table.”
“Yeah sure,” Steve said, and left Tony to handle the dolly while he and Sam lugged the extra across the parking lot.
“So, the Asset?”
“He’s on loan,” Steve replied and when Sam’s eyebrows went up Steve huffed, amused. “Yeah.” and thankfully Sam left it at that.
When they came back to the ballroom, Steve scanned the room for the Asset and was pleased to see him talking with Coulson. A stack of pamphlets were sticking out of the Asset’s back pocket and Sam gave Steve a nod before drifting over in that direction. Steve let him go with a small salute, and wandered over to where Tony was on the other side of the room helping Clint set up some of some of the larger pieces of equipment.
“You want to go?” Tony asked, Steve snuck a glance at the table where Bucky and Sam had their heads bent together over Bucky’s left arm while Sam pointed at something on the table. Probably his nerve diagrams. Sam was a paramedic and often ran safety classes, he was an excellent resource for Bucky and Steve was loath to interrupt them.
“Not yet,” he said, nodding his head towards them. “Need a hand?”
“Always,” Clint cut in, grinning and Steve let himself get roped into helping with some of the heavy lifting. It didn’t take long with the three of them and it wasn’t long before they were all set.
“So,” Clint asked, back carefully to the Asset. “Natasha told me. How’s it going?”
“He’s a good worker,” Tony said, “that’s as far as we’ve gotten.”
“We mistimed a play session though and he came while I was still coming down.” Steve felt himself flush. It had been a stupid mistake. They should have set alarms. They were supposed to be being careful.
But Clint hummed. “That might be a good thing. Don’t be afraid of showing him that you have fun.”
Steve opened his mouth but then he noticed the Asset drifting over in their direction and redirected. “Have a good time?”
The Asset turned back to look over at the table, “They have a lot of information.”
“Hell yeah, they do,” Clint agreed. “SHIELD was my intro to the scene proper. I’d messed around a bit, but they were the ones who made it real and safe, you know? Turned the fantasies into something real.”
“They weren’t my first intro, but it was pretty early on. Changed everything.” Rope had been a practical thing before Steve had seen Sam flying in suspension.
Clint was nodding knowingly, “Where would any of us be without the Falcon’s Flight School?”
“Probably a lot more injured.” Steve said without thinking, then held back a wince when he remembered about the Asset’s injury.
But the Asset didn’t seem to take offense. “Sam had a lot of information.” he said quietly. “Brock said he told me everything I needed to know but Sam had more.”
“Sometimes people don’t know what they don’t know, you know?” Clint said, easily and Steve was grateful at how quickly Clint navigated through that potential landmine. “But now you know. You bringing home some pamphlets for him?”
The Asset flinched slightly, as if to hide the stack of paper stuffed into his pocket and Steve redirected Clint to a discussion about the demos planned that evening, and watched the Asset relax as the conversation drifted on.
–-
Bucky knew that he was never going to show Brock the pamphlets. Maybe he could figure out a way to give the information that didn’t come off as controlling, but he knew a direct reveal would not go over well.
Everyone in the room had been so eager to share information and it did seem like good information. Maybe if he’d known in advance he could have avoided his current injury and he wouldn't be in this mess with Brock. Hydra had classes, but they were for the Doms only. Brock had said that the Doms were the ones who needed the techniques, and that had made sense at the time. Submissives just needed to submit, and that didn’t need to be taught. It was intrinsic. A proper submissive would just know what to do. And Bucky had very much wanted to be a proper submissive.
Still very much wanted to be a proper submissive.
At least he was pretty sure he did.
But now he had a pocket full of information, given to him by a man who was involved in the scene enough to have a 24/7 live-in submissive, and who wanted Bucky to learn. Bucky wasn’t even his and he was trying to help him. But it hadn’t felt pushy, not in the way that some of the Hydra crowd would get when providing guidance, even though he was so blatantly and confidently dominant.
Tony and Steve had been different: they were switches, they were obviously just casual players, and how could they be anything else? But Coulson…
He didn’t know what to do with that. But he wasn’t going to do anything tonight, that much was for sure. He needed time to figure out how to bring this up. Everything was too delicate right now and he didn’t want to risk irritating Brock before Saturday night.
Up until recently, the Party was the one time that Brock would pay attention to him, would scene with him. Even on the quieter nights he could sit with his head in Brock’s lap or follow along behind him and just be part of something. People were impressed by him. He shouldn’t be searching for other people’s approval, but… it was nice to be seen as something good.
But things hadn’t been normal recently and he didn’t know what Brock was going to be doing tonight. Last night someone else had been heading out when Bucky had gotten home and Brock’s ropes had been strewn across the floor of Bucky to clean up.
It wasn’t like he’d forgotten he was injured, Sam had explained what was going on and how Bucky should avoid any situations where he could be further injured while he healed which fit in with how Bucky had been behaving. And he knew Brock’s prerogative as a Dom was to do whatever he wanted, so he could play with someone else. But there were lots of things they could do that wouldn’t bother Bucky’s arm.
Instead, Brock had turned to other people.
And at the last party, Brock had put Bucky in the Box.
It felt like he was being replaced, and that was all the more reason to not rock the boat by bringing up this new information. but he didn’t know what he could do about it. He was a submissive, all he could do was be as good as possible and hope that Brock noticed.
He just wanted a little more certainty.
–-
Brock wasn’t playing with Asset. He was playing with a lot of other people though, bouncing around the club all night, always with a new partner. And the Asset was crawling along behind him all night, leashed to the side of whatever equipment Brock was using. Otherwise, he was ignored.
“This was hard enough to watch before we knew him,” Tony ground out, face tight as he stared out over the crowd.
“We still don’t know he doesn’t like it,” Steve started to hedge, but Tony could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t like this any more than Tony did.
“Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”
“We need a solution to this.”
“We can’t force him to do anything.”
“Yeah, I know. You wanna do play or should we just leave.”
“I want you to turn my brain off.”
–-
Brock wasn’t paying Bucky any attention, so it was easy to watch them at the spanking bench once he noticed they were there. They’d been there for a while, judging by the colour of Tony’s ass and thighs, and they way he was was scrabbling at the bench, instinctively trying to push away at each strike even as he came back into position every single time. He was just base desires, pushed beyond rationality, just wanting more. That was familiar, even if it had been a while…
But Bucky could also hear the soft encouragement of Steve, the gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. That wasn’t as familiar. He tilted his head, trying to hear over the noise of the club.
Steve lifted a cane from the table and tapped it against Tony’s thighs. A warning of what was to come. A threat. “Five of these, then you’re done,” Steve said, and Tony whined into his gag in response.
Steve wasn’t gentle. He was implacable, laying those five marks in tidy parallel lines, uncaring of the existing marks. Tony was biting into the gag, his entire body straining away.
It looked like what Bucky was used to. He could feel himself flush, a sympathetic response, his body remembering the bright shining clarity of that moment when the pain was too loud to feel or think about anything else and it washed the brain clean. He found himself counting along with Steve as it built and built to the moment of freefall. When Steve was done, he set the cane aside, and Tony was done and there was no more input. Just the perfect quiet moment.
And he watched as Steve carefully and gently caressed Tony’s skin. Pressing kisses into Tony’s sweat damp hair and down his back. He watched Steve carefully uncuff Tony, massaging muscles. He watched how Tony wasn’t alone.
After a while, they moved over to another bench and gently Steve carefully held a bottle of water to Tony’s lips and fed him a handful of dried fruit. While Tony chewed, Steve pulled an instant cold pack out of his bag and snapped it active before laying it against Tony’s thighs. Tony hissed then laughed, startled. The laughter dissolved into giggles, Steve took the water bottle back as Tony dissolved into hysteria while Steve looked on. He looked fond. They looked loved.
Brock jerked Bucky’s leash and it was time to move on to the next thing.
At least Brock was paying attention to him.
Chapter 5: Making Space
Chapter Text
With his cut hours, Bucky almost managed almost two weeks before he ran out of work he easily could do with his limited mobility. His strength was coming back, even if it was slow for Brock’s preferences, but he was still clumsy. Up until now Brock had been happy to let Bucky fumble his way through work at the garage every day. But now it was Thursday and Bucky was struggling and Brock had been pissed at him since the morning. Bucky didn’t know why, Brock was barely interacting with him. But it was still Bucky’s fault.
“Waste of space,” he heard Rollins mutter as Bucky's wrench clattered to the ground again.
“He is, isn’t he?” Brock agreed, suddenly standing right next to Bucky. “Well if you’re not going to be of any use, then you don’t need to be here. Get out. Be back for the party.”
Bucky felt the cold lump of rejection form in his stomach, but he knew arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“Yes, Sir,” he said, backing away from Brock, angling towards the back room where his coat and wallet were, but Brock cut him off. “No. Out.”
There was a dangerous thread in his voice. Bucky went.
It was a dreary March day, just starting to drizzle. The parking lot was dark and empty and Bucky took a deep breath of the chill, damp air. He couldn’t stay out here.
There was only one place he could think of to go.
--
“Steve, check the door cam,” Tony said as soon as Steve answered his phone. His voice was tight with urgency. “I was checking for a delivery, but Asset’s there. How soon can you get there? I’m scrolling back, I think he’s been there for hours.”
Steve blinked at his phone, looking at the figure huddled in their doorway for a second before closing his sketchpad. “I’m heading home now. 10 minutes.”
“I’m stuck in meetings. I'll be home as soon as I can but it’s probably not going to be any sooner than usual.”
“That’s okay. I can handle it. Pick up pizza on your way home? Pepperoni and that goat cheese one again. He kept staring at it after you let him have a slice.”
“Got it.”
“Okay, gotta go now. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Steve’s studio wasn’t far from their loft, but the drive felt like forever. The huddled lump didn’t move when he pulled up, and for one heartstopping moment Steve thought the worst, but then Steve was kneeling in front of him and the Asset was looking up, trying to say something but shivering too violently to get out any actual words. His bright blue eyes, rimmed in red, stood out starkly against pale skin. How long had he been here before they noticed? He wasn’t even wearing a coat. The doorway at least provided a bit of a wind break it didn’t help the creeping cold damp.
Steve reached down and there was a brief moment of hesitation before the other man reached up and let Steve help him to his feet. He was still trying to talk, explain or apologize Steve couldn’t tell, but none of that mattered. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up. Anything else can wait.”
Steve wasn’t quite as good at the constant chatter as Tony was, he found himself falling into the patterns of a scene gone wrong. Assess the problem, explain what you’re doing to solve the problem. Easy yes or no questions. Reassure. Breathe. The Asset had stepped away from him as soon as Steve had gotten him upright, so Steve didn’t press, just held the door open and ushered the man inside.
“Aside from the cold, is there anything that’s going to get worse if we don’t get to it in the next ten minutes?”
The Asset shook his head. No. Perfect.
“Okay, I have clean warm clothes up in the loft. You can have a shower if you want, but you need to get changed.” The straightforward plan seemed to settle something and the Asset followed easily enough, declining the shower but drying off and changing into some of Steve’s clothes. Steve left him to it, tossing a couple of extra blankets onto the couch before slipping off to the kitchen to get coffee and cookies. The pizza would probably arrive with Tony. He wanted to get something warm into the Asset sooner than that.
When he came out, the Asset was wrapped up under a blanket on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.
“You wanna talk about what happened?” Steve prompted as the silence stretched out.
“Brock kicked me out.” The Asset’s face was neutral, but Steve could tell it bothered him despite the mild words, which was a good thing. He should be bothered by this. No one’s partner should just kick them out. “Not forever. Just until the party.”
Like that was much better. “Well, first problem first. You can stay here.” You can always stay. Steve thought, but that might be a little too much. “We’ll give you a door code and you can come over whenever.”
“I don’t want to put you out-”
“You won’t. We have an actual place that’s not always full of rope dust. It’s just a little bit out of town, so this is a convenient crash pad. But it’s got two bedrooms so you can have a real bed and everything.”
A ghost of a wry smile flashed across the Asset’s face. “Thanks.” Then he sighed in an exhalation that was almost a deflation. “And you can call me Bucky.”
“Sure Bucky,” Steve said. “Can Tony use that name or do you want to wait on that?”
And he looked surprised at that clarification and that made Steve’s heart ache. “Tony can too, that’s fine.” He stared back down into the mug. “I’m not his Asset anymore.”
“Did he tell you that?” Steve said carefully. Smothering his instinctive celebration that Bucky - Bucky!- was getting out. But if it wasn’t his choice...
“No, but I can see where it’s going.” Bucky took a pull of his coffee like he looked like he wished it was something stronger. Steve wished it was too, but they didn’t keep alcohol here. “We haven’t played outside the club in months. And then Saturday night… He’s always got someone new around him. I’m getting old. I should have seen it coming, but… ”
Steve took a breath. Watched Bucky stare down into his coffee. “Were you happy with him?”
A wry little smile flickered across Bucky’s face. “I was, I think. I need what he gives me.”
“I think what he gives you is something that’s more from you than him. You can find it somewhere else.”
“With who? I’m a True Submissive. I’m not gonna be happy with someone who just plays.” Bucky scoffed, and Steve could hear Brock in his voice. “No offense,” He added after a beat, and Steve waved it away.
“So we’re just players?”
“Yeah, Brock explained. There’s people like me who need to play hard, it’s a lifestyle, and then there’s the people who are just like tourists. They just want to play. You two, I see you. You’re skilled, and you’re good, but… I need more.”
“How much of the scene have you seen outside of Hydra?”
Bucky just shrugged and tilted his coffee mug slightly, watching as the liquid rolled around.
“Tony’s going to come home soon, we might as well wait and talk and talk more then. But in the meantime, wanna touch some rope?”
“Yes.”
They didn’t bother to go downstairs. Steve opened a closet and started pulling out bundle after bundle, tossing them on the floor of the living room. “We don’t need to work tonight. This is our rope, and we’ve been good at keeping up with our regular kits but some of this is used less often. I’m just going to oil it, inspect it, and then let it hang it over the railing to let it relax a bit. Do you want to join me?”
Steve knew there was still enough work to do for paying customers, they had a whole stack of kits to condition in order to replace what they’d sent to Coulson, but tonight was a night for something more personal. Steve pulled out the bundles of their rope, each tied up in cloth. They had, well, a lot but each had their purpose. They had rope for places where they didn’t care if it got messy, rope for classes when they’d be sharing it around. Rope for suspensions, natural rope, colorful rope…
“We’ve probably got too much rope,” Steve said, now that he was staring at the whole pile. It had been a long time since he’d seen everything at once. They should maybe do something about that. “But every piece of it has some purpose. Every piece of it holds good memories.”
And what was the point of running your own rope business if you couldn’t have rope for every possible situation? Steve picked up the first bundle and pulled it open. This was the rope they usually taught with, a multi-coloured bundle so people could see what each rope did at the end of the harness. He tossed it towards Bucky then went back to the closet for the oil and rags.
“Do you want to start with that? You know how to oil the ropes. Same as downstairs.”
Bucky nodded and Steve watched for a moment to make sure he wasn't going to have any problems. But his hand was getting better, and he was getting better and working around it. Keeping a soft tension of the oiled cloth was easy enough while his right hand pulled length after length through.
Steve grabbed the next bundle. A kit in bright red that they’d dyed specifically for a performance because Steve had loved how the colour looked against Tony’s skin. Steve let himself fall into the meditation of pulling rope between his hands and the scent of the rope combining with the jojoba oil.
They worked in easy silence, falling into the easy rhythm of it and slowly creating a wall of rope draped over the railing, until Steve pulled open their main suspension bag. This was just a mess of ropes, apparently they hadn’t bothered coiling it properly after the last time they played.
He set the oil aside and found an end to start separating it from the tangle. It wasn’t looking great. He tutted slightly as he freed a second rope.
“This was our main suspension kit. But I think we might need to retire it.” It wasn’t bad, but there were multiple ropes now with fibers popping out of the cords. The rope was only strong with all the pieces working together. It wasn’t a good sign when things started to fray like this.
He held it out towards Bucky, “See? It probably won’t fail the next time, but it’s going to fail sooner rather than later.” He fished around in a drawer to pull out a lighter, burning away the tufted fibers. “It’s the easiest way to get rid of excess like that. It only burns down to the twist. See? But it doesn’t fix the issue.”
Bucky set his own rope aside to watch Steve as he went through the rest of the bundle, pointing out the areas of wear and concern. One of the ropes was in rough enough shape that he set it aside, but the rest were still serviceable.
He reached for the oil, caught the flash of confusion on Bucky’s face. “I thought you were retiring the rope?”
“Yeah, it’s too worn to trust for suspension.”
“So why are you oiling it? Why not just toss it?”
Steve paused. There were layers here, he wanted to make sure he answered properly. “Because there’s lots of good memories in this rope. And just because it’s not good for suspension doesn’t mean we can’t use it. This piece is extra battered, so I’m going to cut it down into short pieces, but the rest will just switch to a non-suspension kit. I’m not going to just get rid of it. It’s so easy to work with now, it feels amazing on my hands.”
He nodded towards the burnished gold kit that Bucky was currently working on. “That used to be a suspension kit too. Now it’s one of Tony’s favorites to tie with when we want to do something soft.
“That’s why we have all of this” Steve laughed, gesturing to the rope covering almost the full length of the railing. “It’s hard to get rid of something that holds so much love… when the closet starts getting full, we donate to beginner classes, or friends' art projects. Nothing is ever useless.”
He let that sink in while he finished oiling that kit, handing each piece over to Bucky to drape over the railing. Once done, he set the oil aside and flopped down on the touch. Tony would be home soon.
“Now come on, the rope needs to relax and so do we. And Tony will be home soon and he’s bringing pizza.”
--
They were having lunch the next day when Bucky cleared his throat, awkwardly. “You asked if I wanted to watch, and I think I’d like to see.”
Tony grinned, not bothering to fight back his immediate response. “Is there anything in particular you want to see?”
“Coulson said… High Protocol?” Bucky said, like he was still feeling out the terms, but Steve was happy to see the acknowledgement that he’d taken the pamphlets to heart.
“We can do something like that,” Steve offered. “That kinda thing shines best at a party but we haven’t done it in a while, and I like it. Do you have any preferences as to who’s in which role?”
“I’m Submissive.” Bucky said, but the bluntness of the response was tinge with a wry little twist, acknowledging the obviousness. “No preferences other than that.”
“Tony, does topping work for you?”
“Yeah it does,” Tony grinned, “And if you’re good, we’ll pull out the wand.”
Steve beamed.
“Is there anything in our usual sandbox that you don’t want to do tonight?” Tony asked.
Steve took a moment, considering where he was physically and mentally. “Nope, I’m feeling pretty good.”
“Over to you, Bucky. What are you in the mood for?”
There was a longer pause that Steve took, which was encouraging. But in the end his response was simple; “I miss knowing what to do.”
“I can do that,” Tony replied, some of his earlier enthusiasm softening into empathy. “So if we do this, we need aftercare. Our basics are food, downtime, and physical contact. Do you have any preferences?”
“I don’t know.” He looked frustrated, but Tony just kept going.
“That’s okay, we can tweak it. Does ice cream and low-key movies sound good to you?”
They knew those were things he liked anyways and Bucky nodded.
“And we’re just going to keep things simple with plain language. There’s no reason to get fancy, I’m going to take any ‘no’s or anything that sounds or looks like a no as a reason to stop and check in, okay?”
Steve nodded because it was important to not assume and Tony waited until Bucky had also agreed before clapping his hands. “Alright then, let’s plan.”
--
Bucky was sitting so prettily, it made Tony’s heart sing. He was still wearing Steve’s sweatpants, but had taken off the shirt before kneeling by the couch on Steve’s cushion, watching Tony for a sign he might want his drink. Tony had taken the time to put on a suit, purely for Steve’s sake, but it looked like Bucky was also appreciating feeling underdressed in contrast to Tony. He had simple rules for this evening. Default position is kneeling at Tony’s feet. He was to fetch anything Tony wanted, and watch. Tony was keeping a close eye on the clock, in another five minutes he’d find some reason to give Bucky a chance to stretch his legs.
Tony let his eyes flicker to the glass of water on the table, and Bucky presented it to him. Tony rewarded him with a nod and a smile and he saw Bucky go soft. Perfect.
Steve meanwhile was starting to tremble. Maybe his default position of a wall sit was a little mean but Tony knew that Steve liked the challenge. Normally he’d be naked for these evenings, but tonight Tony didn’t want anyone getting the wrong ideas. So instead Steve was wearing one of Tony’s favourite outfits of Steve’s; sleek dark navy short shorts and a brown leather harness.
The harness made his shoulders look miles wide with his hands behind his head. The shorts rode up high on straining thighs.
“Up on your toes.”
Steve clenched his jaw, but shifted up onto his toes, making the angle just a little bit harder, making his calves bunch. God he was gorgeous.
“Good boy.”
A tiny whine made its way past Steve’s gritted teeth.
“Remind me of your protocols.” Tony rolled the glass to hear the ice cubes clink.
“Your boy’s eyes will remain on the ground. Your boy will remain in this position unless your boy has other duties. Your boy will follow all orders. Your boy is always your boy.”
“Good boy. Come over here.”
Steve was only shaking a little as he stood up. Tony sent Bucky off to the kitchen for a couple new glasses along with the large tray and as Tony directed Steve into position, on his hands and knees with careful corrections until his hips and shoulders were level. By that time Bucky was back with the tray and Tony carefully balanced it across Steve’s back.
“The second glass is for you.” Tony said, and Bucky’s eyes flickered from the glass, to Steve to Tony and back to the glass. He knew how Bucky’d be reading that; Steve was serving them both. Tony was putting Bucky between him and Steve in the hierarchy. But he also knew that Steve didn’t even flinch at that. And he knew Bucky would see Steve’s calmness and the utter lack of threat Steve felt.
Bucky took the glass, and Tony let him have that moment until Bucky nodded to himself. Tony wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t looking for it.
He let himself feel this moment briefly, splayed across the couch, with one boy at his feet, the other as the table. Yeah, life was good.
Bucky was sipping awkwardly at his water. Watching Steve, sneaking glances at Tony, but not fidgeting. Nothing to indicate he wasn’t happy to kneel for at long as Tony wanted. But that wasn’t the scene that Tony wanted to show him. He’d seen them be calm. He needed to see them more. And suddenly Tony had the perfect idea. Steve was going to squirm beautifully. It was going to be great.
--
It was nice to kneel again. The past weeks had been… complicated. Exhausting. Trying to juggle all his responsibilities for Brock in half the time was draining on him.
So kneeling now, a single simple task, was like a drink of cool water on a hot day. He needed this. Even if all he did tonight was kneel at Tony’s feet, it was nice.
But they told him that this was going to be something more, even if he wasn’t going to be participating in it. So he wasn’t too surprised when Tony stood up, looking imposing in his suit.
Tony had left them and Bucky could feel the tension of uncertainty thrum, but he caught a glimpse of Steve’s face, tilted to the ground as Tony had placed him, but bright with happy anticipation so the stress didn’t have a chance to take root in Bucky. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he trusted the dynamic that he’d seen between Steve and Tony.
And sure enough, Tony came back with a blindfold, a leash and a crop. At Tony’s orders, Bucky removed the tray from Steve’s back and returned it to the kitchen. By the time he was back, Steve was blindfolded, the leash clipped to the back of the harness, and Tony was casually slapping the crop against his own thigh.
“Come on” Tony said, grinning, “Since you’re gonna be here for a while, I’ll give you the proper tour. Hands behind your back, one step behind my left shoulder.”
Bucky got himself into position and watched Tony put on a show. Steve was out in front of them, Tony leering blatantly and surprisingly lovingly at the view as he directed Steve with liberal smacks from the crop. They must have done this before, and often enough that Steve was familiar with taking guidance in that manner. And all the while Tony talked, telling Bucky about how they got the building, all the renovations they did. Steve’s thighs were nicely pink by the time Tony finally directed them down the hall leading out of the main room.
When Tony guided Steve into the next room, Steve almost balked, hesitating at the threshold until Tony gave him a smack of encouragement.
“Do you have any hobbies? Steve likes to paint. He’s really very good.”
Steve was flushing red underneath the blindfold, shifting awkwardly until Tony placed a casual foot on his neck, and Steve bowed forward, pressing his face into the ground. Bucky could see how that was a bit of a kindness, allowing Steve to hide his head into his hands while Tony expounded on his skills, gesturing around the room with the crop like a conductor. “This one’s my favourite. There’s just something about the colours…”
The blush had spread down into Steve’s chest as Tony continued to expound on his skills and Bucky tried to remember the last time Brock had sounded that proud about something Bucky had done. He certainly sounded proud enough when talking about his own skills. He’d sounded proud when he talked about what he could do to Bucky. Bucky just wasn’t sure he’d ever sounded that proud about Bucky.
Eventually Tony took pity and stopped talking shifted everyone’s attention to the tall wall of built-in bookshelves. “Do you like to read?”
“Haven’t had much chance,” Bucky said absently, distracted as Tony gently tapped Steve’s groin and Steve flexed, raising his knees just an inch above the floor and holding, hovering on his hands and toes.
“Well you're on vacation for a couple of days,” Tony said. Bucky almost scoffed at the phrasing. Vacation. Sure. but he recognized the kindness in it. Bucky could be a friend visiting for vacation. He didn’t have to think about the messiness of his personal life.
“You have a chance now. Pick some.” Tony said, and absently picked out a nice heavy hardcover that he placed on Steve’s back. “If you want.” He pulled out a couple more, creating a slightly unbalanced pile.
Bucky glanced at the shelf. There was a surprising mix, but it didn’t seem to be in any particular order. The shelf he saw contained theoretical physics, engineering, and some raunchy looking romance novels, some that looked like non-fiction kink. He grabbed a book at random and turned back as the books that had been balanced on Steve thumped to the floor and Steve whined.
“Alright, back down to your knees. Let’s try again.” Steve lowered himself, gasping as he could relax once again, and Tony restacked the small pile of books onto his back, and they started the slow process back to the living room. Steve did admirably well. Crawling carefully to keep his back flat but eventually the pile slipped.
Tony tisked. “Back to the start.”
After the third time the books slipped, Bucky braced himself. He knew how this would work with Brock, repeating over and over until either Bucky was exhausted and Brock got bored watching Bucky fail. And then he’d take his punishment.
“I’m literally asking you to do what an inanimate object can do. Is it so hard?” The words were harsh, but Tony’s voice was more teasing than biting. Steve just looked determined as Tony restacked the books. This time, he was slipping something between them as he went. Bucky blinked curiously. They were leather coasters, Bucky realized, they’d provide a little bit of friction between each book.
He didn’t think Steve noticed them, nor did he notice the little bracing support of the crop, keeping the books better aligned as they carefully made their way back to the couch. When they finally made it, book stack intact, he looked proud and satisfied.
“Good boy,” Tony said, sounding proud, even though Steve hadn’t really succeeded at the task. At Tony’s direction, Steve knelt up, subtly rolling out his wrists, hissing as he sat back on his heels, putting pressure on his cropped thighs. Tony leaned forward to take off his blindfold, kissing his forehead. “Rub my feet.”
Steve beamed.
This was not an uncommon activity for Bucky. Brock used it as a way to keep Bucky out of the way while still being useful.
Steve smoothed careful hands down the fabric of Tony's pants, down to his shoes. First tracing the textures of laces over skin-warmed leather, before untying the knots. Carefully, precisely, he loosened the laces just enough to ease each shoe off, tucking the laces neatly inside before setting them aside.
That done, his eyes flicked up to Tony's face, glancing up through thick eyelashes as he spread his knees, making room for Tony's right foot as he slid forward slightly, to delicately rolling Tony’s pants up and out of the way, revealing the almost sheer bright red tops of Tony’s socks.
Steve paused and grinned as his explorations revealed sock garters, the elastic, shooting a delighted look up at Tony before pressing a kiss to the bare skin between sock and elastic.
"You did this for me?" Steve murmured as he smoothed his hands over the elastic hugging Tony’s calf.
"I had a thought," Tony replied, voice soft and fond.
“Thank you.” Steve looked up to meet Tony’s eyes, tilting his head back to display the long line of his neck, the flush high in his cheeks.
“Hmmm that’s nice. Don’t look away.”
“Yes, Sir.” Steve said, letting his fingers find the top of Tony’s socks again. He kept eye contact as he unclipped the garter, tugged Tony's sock down, inch by careful inch until he had to lift Tony’s foot to his chest, cradling his shin in his hands to finish the task without looking away. Tony shivered as Steve slipped two fingers behind his ankle bone, splitting around his achilles tendon as he slipped his fingers into the sock to ease it around Tony's heel.
"Perfect," Tony breathed, pressing his now bare foot into Steve's chest, and Steve let him do it. Arms loose at his sides, palms up, task momentarily forgotten as Tony slowly pushed. Steve’s abs flexed to keep his balance, to keep providing just enough resistance against Tony to carry the weight of his leg, to stay exactly where Tony put him until Tony backed off, let Steve come back upright with the same steady pressure.
It was perfectly smooth, the give and take. Two people who knew each other.
Tony let his foot drop then, resting it teasingly high on Steve's thigh, and Steve reached for Tony’s other leg. Still holding eye contact. He lifted Tony’s leg from the beginning, letting it rest on his shoulder as he rolled up the pant leg. It was beautiful and agonizing. The air practically crackling between them as Steve turned his head, keeping his gaze steady, to place a kiss on newly revealed skin of Tony’s ankle.
And then Steve dug his thumbs into the ball of Tony's foot and Tony groaned, low and deep, as he let his head drop back. Steve smiled to himself, the edge of a smirk in his grin as the moment broke and he shot a sidelong look at Bucky.
It had never felt like this when Bucky had done it. It had been a chore, like his other chores and whatever satisfaction he got out of it was entirely from him. This looked like something else entirely.
Maybe the feelings he got from kink would be different if they were reflected between the two of him. Maybe it wasn’t about things being done to him, maybe it was things done together. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone in this.
--
Tony could feel Steve’s heart beating slow and steady under where his foot was resting against his chest.
He’d seen Bucky’s eyes go flat when Steve had failed, then switch to confused pleasure when Tony gave the extra little assist Steve needed. He was learning. That was good.
Tony groaned as Steve dug his thumbs in perfectly. Let Steve see how pleased he made Tony.
Steve had been perfect. He’d been perfectly attuned to Tony’s directions.
He’d earned his rewards. Tony reluctantly pulled his feet from Steve’s hands. Kissed him again to remove any sting
“Go get the wand.”
--
The violet wand was Steve’s favorite thing. The flickering lightning, the smell of ozone, the knife sharp buzz across his skin. It was a sharp pain, intense, but just surface level. It didn’t register as a threat, it just felt like sensation and Steve could just revel in it as he squirmed underneath the mylar tassels Tony was holding over his chest.
Tony wasn’t even moving it. If he could just make himself stay still the needle-like prickles would stop, if he could move into it and stay there the jolts would ground. But there were so many potential points drifting just above his skin it was impossible to keep still. Every breath set off a new cascade of prickling sparks across his skin and he was lost in it, writhing.
And then Tony moved the tassels away, and Steve had a chance to catch his breath. He pried open his eyes to watch Tony watch him, grinning goofily at each other. They switched pretty regularly, but they both had certain preferences. And Tony loved this wand, with its mad scientist case of glassware and accessories. And Steve loved Tony like this.
But Tony was winding down now. He set aside the accessories and just reached out to draw patterns of lightning across Steve’s chest with his finger, setting a lazy meandering path up Steve’s body until he reached Steve’s head. When he sunk both hands into Steve’s hair Steve made a sound like he was dying and he didn’t care because the buzz combined with the pressure of fingers massaging his scalp and the tug of his hair and it was so good it was so good and perfect.
He dragged his eyes open, still moaning and rolled his head to see Bucky, to share with him how good this was.
And Bucky’s face was blank behind wide eyes.
Steve didn’t hesitate. “Red.”
--
Tony stepped back immediately, flipping the switch off, and Bucky’s eyes went even wider. The spike of adrenaline helped push back the happy haze but Steve was still trying to figure out what the next steps were when Bucky shot to his feet.
“No!”
“It’s okay, Bucky. I’m okay. We’re okay.” Distantly Steve knew that this jolt out of headspace would cause problems later, but that was a future problem. Tony had now noticed Bucky, he’d figure it out.
“We’re all okay.”
“I’m sorry!”
Steve was struggling to get off the floor, and Bucky was stiff, still wide-eyed. Tony was wavering between the two of them and Steve waved him off. He’d be fine. Bucky was in trouble.
Tony straightened up decisively. “Okay, everyone to the couch. I’ll get the ice cream.”
And there was a brief lull as Tony dumped what was practically the entire contents of their freezer on the table with a handful of spoons, then threw blankets at both Bucky and Steve. And that derailed whatever had set Bucky off enough that he started to look a little less wild.
Tony elbowed his way into the middle of the couch, tugged Steve in close and Steve let himself sink into the warmth and love that was being wrapped in Tony
“Thank you for safewording. Thank you for trusting me. Can you tell me what went wrong or do you want to talk later?”
“Bucky…” and he couldn't really get out more. Couldn’t get out the way Bucky’s eyes had shone fear and Steve all knew was that he had to stop it.
“That’s fine.” Tony soothed. “You did good. You’re so good.” He turned to Bucky and Steve saw Bucky flinch back. But his eyes were flickering between the two of them, focused on Tony’s hand on Steve’s shoulder.
“Bucky, are you okay?”
“I- I don’t” Bucky stammered.
“That’s okay,” Tony soothed. “You don’t have to do anything now. If you want to talk, you can talk, but all we have to do right now is sit here and breathe. Everything’s okay.”
Steve closed his eyes and let Tony’s calming monologue wash over him. A couple minutes to breathe and let his body stop sparking and then they’d deal with this. But right now he just needed a bit of time with his Sir.
–
When Steve opened his eyes again, Bucky was curled under a blanket with a tub of ice cream, watching Steve with a wrinkle between his eyes.
“You okay?” Steve said, voice rough. He pushed himself up a little and accepted the carton of ice cream that Tony passed him. The cold was an extra layer of grounding, the sugar would help the slump he was feeling.
“You safeworded.”
“I did.” Steve agreed. “It didn’t look like everyone in the game was enjoying it, so I safeworded to end it.”
“I was fine.”
“Were you having fun?”
Bucky chewed at his lip, looking torn, and he didn’t respond, just ate another spoonful of ice cream. “You didn’t have to say a safeword though. You could have just said stop.”
“No, you’re right. I wasn’t really thinking though. Instinct? Habit? It’s the same thing though. Same response.”
“Do you have a safeword?” Tony asked, trying another tack.
Bucky nodded, “Freight car.”
“What does your safeword do?”
“It’s withdrawing consent for the relationship.”
Ah, there it was. Steve should have thought about that, brought Tony’s attention to it another way. Or they should have had this conversation earlier. This wasn’t how he wanted their first scene to end. He’d fucked things up…
Tony pressed the cold carton of ice cream against Steve’s cheek, startling him out of his thought spiral. “You did everything right. Don’t worry.” Then he turned to Bucky, “Our safewords just end that scene. Then we do aftercare and when everyone’s feeling up for it, we talk about what happened so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again. Do you want to tell us what happened?”
“Not really.”
“Do you want a hug?” Steve didn’t know what made him ask it, maybe it was the disconsolate way that Bucky was sitting on the chair, alone, mashing his ice cream with the spoon rather than eating it.
Bucky looked at him, startled. Steve could see the yearning in his eyes, but also the fear. “Anytime you want one, offer’s open.”
“In the meantime, do you want to watch a movie?” Tony asked. “You can sit anywhere you want.”
The advantage of the screen/projector combo was that you could see it from anywhere in the living space. Everything was already set up, so it didn’t take much for Tony to pull up the selection screen. “It’s Studio Ghibli unless you have a preference? Steve’s a bit of an animation nerd.” That got a flicker of a smile out of Bucky.
Tony hit play and turned down the lights.
There was a shuffling sound, and Bucky crawled out of the chair to sit down on the floor between Steve and Tony. He tilted his head into Tony’s thigh, sighing a little as Tony dropped his head to Bucky’s head.
And Steve thought maybe this was a success.
Chapter 6: Putting on a Show
Notes:
More nice things for Bucky! Mostly... ;)
Chapter Text
Tony woke up to the sound of clattering in the kitchen. Steve was still warm and sleeping next to him, it wasn’t that. But they had a house guest. Tony carefully extracted himself from the bed and padded into the kitchen to see Bucky standing by the stove.
He looked rough; His face was neutral but his eyes looked dead and moved like he was pushing through water. But he was also determinedly prepping… omelets?
“Good morning,”
Bucky hadn’t heard him, he startled badly, and looked up and some of the deadness was replaced with fear but even that barely made its way through the exhaustion. It looked like everyone was dropping today. Perfect. This was going to make the drop off at the club tonight a disaster.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, making an aborted movement that Tony thought might mean he wanted to drop to his knees. Instead he hovered awkwardly. Tony waved him off, made his way to the coffee maker which was already prepped.
“No worries, but you didn’t have to make breakfast.”
“It felt better to be useful.”
“Yeah, Steve gets like that too when he’s droppy. Needs to do something. I just want to wallow, but to each their own.”
“Droppy?”
“Yeah when the scene leaves you with an emotional hangover? Feel shitty and everything is terrible?” He was trying to muster the brainpower to explain more, but Bucky was nodding knowingly. He knew the thing, just not the term. That was fine.
“I’m good at omelets. Do you like anything in particular?” Bucky turned back to his prep, his back a line of exhausted misery, but Tony could read the desire for privacy. The coffee was done enough, Tony poured it quickly.
“If it’s in the kitchen, it’s good. I’m going to get Steve up. Let me know if you need anything.”
--
Steve woke up to an empty bed, and scowled at the sun streaming in the windows. The bright sunshine was incongruous with his mood and part of him felt like it should be grey and raining. If he was going to be miserable, the world should be miserable .
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, I thought I’d be back before you got up.”
A mug of coffee was put on Steve’s bedside table and Tony got back into bed, sitting up still but his legs were warm against Steve’s back.
After a few moments of debating between wallowing in his misery and or doing something about it, Steve rolled over and snuggled into Tony’s thigh. It was a nice thigh. And in this position Tony let his hand drop into Steve’s hair and Steve was willing to admit that maybe the world might not be completely terrible.
“Bucky’s making breakfast,” Tony said, gently massaging Steve’s scalp and it took him a moment to process the words.
“He doesn’t have to. We could–” Steve hesitated, because he didn’t want to cook and Tony was… acceptable, but Steve wanted good food this morning “–order something?”
“He said he likes to feel useful.”
“Yeah, okay.” Steve let himself have a few more moments against Tony’s leg then sat up to reach for the coffee. Half way through the mug he felt like he could face the world outside their bedroom and shuffled slowly after Tony.
Bucky was waiting for them, kneeling by the stove, his palms open and up on his thighs. He didn’t look up when they came in, just kept staring blankly at the floor. And Steve wanted to fix that, to reach and offer and help, but he was wrung dry. So instead he dropped to his knees beside Bucky. He couldn’t offer much right now but he could be a warm body, a companion.
And there was something calming about the position. His mind went gently blank, exhausted yes, but he was aware of the person next to him, the heat of Bucky’s body, the rhythm of his breath. He found himself matching it.
He didn’t know how long they stayed there. But eventually he felt Tony’s gentle hand on his face. “Come on, this floor’s too hard for kneeling.”
“Are you ready for breakfast?” Bucky asked, his voice rough.
“Ready whenever you are,” Tony answered, and he held out his hands to lift them to their feet.
--
Breakfast was delicious but subdued. Tony mustered up praise for Bucky’s cooking and gratitude for the service, Steve rallied enough to agree, but they weren’t at their best. Tony wasn’t feeling it quite as much as Steve, but the weight of having to carry these two through the day was feeling like a lot. It wasn’t like the drop was unexpected; the abrupt ending skidding into panic, even bolstered by aftercare, was bound to lead to this. But he wanted to do better by Bucky. This was their first big scene. This was supposed to be them showing him it could be better. And they’d fucked it up.
That weighed heavily on Tony. This was his responsibility to fix. He tried to rally, tried to find the energy to care. But Bucky laid a hand on his arm, and stood to collect the plates.
It shouldn’t be him, he looked as wrecked as Steve, but he was choosing this.
“You’ve got this droopy aftercare routine down pat.”
“Yeah, well. I can’t exactly keep taking days off. And Sunday is the day when I get most of the week’s prep done.”
Tony sat with that one for a while. “This happens often?”
Bucky looked at him, brow furrowed. Puzzled. Like he was trying to figure out what Tony was asking. “Yes?”
Their conversation was starting to get Steve’s attention. “Bucky, do you feel like this every time you play?”
“Not every time,” Bucky said, slightly defensively. “But most.”
Questions could come later, when everyone was feeling less delicate.
“So what do you like to do? Steve here will be out for a run later today, good endorphins. I like the creature comforts, good food and warm blankets.”
Bucky just blinked. “It just goes away eventually”
“Yeah but like, what does your body want right now?”
Bucky looked like he hadn’t ever considered that. Tony let him sit with it for a while. He wasn’t going to press. Then Bucky let out a slow breath.
“Can we just sit?”
--
It was one of the better days Bucky had had in a while, despite its beginnings. Tony, as it turned out, had been perfectly happy to stay curled up on the couch and stay in contact with him as much as possible.
When Bucky had started to feel antsy from that, Steve had invited him out on his run. The sun was shining, the air was perfectly crisp and Bucky had just been keeping up, but Steve then had pushed himself a little faster. He’d said he was just trying to make sure he could lead Bucky through an unfamiliar route, but then Bucky had to speed up to keep up with him… by the time they got back to the loft they were almost sprinting, both breathless, laughing and sweaty. Tony was there to throw towels at both of them, griping about Steve’s sweaty hugs, but he’d hauled Bucky in as well, just like he belonged there.
This was so much better than going through this alone.
By the time Bucky had to head to the club, he was feeling better than he’d felt for months.
--
Letting Bucky leave to go to the party was one of the hardest things Tony had done.
They debated not going, neither of them were really in the mood, but they didn’t want to leave Bucky alone even though he’d seemed fine by the time they called the cab to take him back to the club.
It took them a little longer than usual to get themselves ready and out the door, and they saw him the moment they stepped into the club. Part of them had hoped that Brock would continue the theme and ignore Bucky for the evening. They were half right. Brock was ignoring him. The problem was that no one else was.
Bucky was strung up in the center of the club, arms spread and attached to the ceiling, ankles cuffed to the floor. He was wearing just his mask and a brief pair of leather shorts. His back was red and welted. His eyes were wide open, but he was twitchy, flinching as people bumped into him, groped him, smacked him.
“Free entertainment tonight!” Someone crowed at them as Tony and Steve made their way across the room. “Apparently the Asset’s hasn’t been productive this week and needs to earn his keep.”
“Oh yeah?” Tony asked, trying to keep his voice neutral as Steve stiffened beside him. “How does this work?”
“Do whatever you want. If he entertains you, put your tip in his shorts. Just the tip," The man leered. “Sometimes they’ll let him down for party games. It’s a good night.”
“Huh. Why is he so twitchy?”
“Oh yeah, they put blackout contacts in. Like a blindfold except it doesn’t hide his expression. Neat right?”
“Yeah,” Tony said, “neat.” And he let Steve pull him to the edge of the crowd.
“Hey Cap. You wanna do some rope?” Tony asked, looking pointedly at the beam above the Asset’s head. “I mean, I’d tie you, but I feel like your… presence might be more… inspiring.”
Steve’s teeth flashed white in the dark club. “You wanna cause some trouble?”
“Gonna make some friends.”
--
Steve shouldered his way through the crowded room. He wasn’t sure if this was going to hurt or help with Bucky, but they couldn’t just stand there and watch this for the rest of the evening. They couldn’t fix it, but they could hopefully give him a break.
They had enough of a reputation now that people backed away and gave them space once he tossed a strap over the beam. They knew Steve wasn’t shy with enforcing his playspace with his rope ends.
Steve set up a couple more straps - one on either side of Bucky. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he wanted coverage. Tony was taking his time, stripped down, making a bit of a show of his warmups. That was good but Bucky was tense, Steve could hear his deliberate breathing as he tried to figure out what was going on.
That was something he could solve. Tony stepped into Steve’s reach and kissed him fiercely. Steve pushed back, taking advantage of his height to bend Tony backwards. His grin meant the kiss was too much teeth, but Tony met him there and they both came up panting. They were going to have to do something dramatic, something center stage worthy, so no one complained that they were taking their toy. Steve had some ideas.
He grabbed Tony behind the neck, manhandled him around until he was almost chest to chest with Bucky.
“Hey handsome,” he heard Tony purr. And only because Steve was watching for it he saw the softening in Bucky’s stance, the flash of pleased surprise, though still tempered by caution.
“You can touch me if you want,” Tony muttered softly, and Steve was pleased to see Bucky slump slightly into Tony.
Steve readjusted his plans.
--
Bucky hated the contacts.
It was one thing to have a blindfold on, but that had some layer of protection at least, combined with the mask, it let him hide. The contacts just left him feeling exposed. Not that it took much to feel exposed when he was strung up in the middle of the room.
He tensed as he felt more people approach, bracing himself. The crowd around him was quieting, shifting away and Bucky’s heart sank. That was never a good sign. The last time Brock had done this, someone had gotten the bright idea to cane his feet, which had, apparently, been an excellent show. He really hoped this wasn’t the prelude to a repeat of that. It was hard enough already to not damage his left arm any more than he already had.
He smelled the first. A whiff of jute and familiar oil. There was a faint stirring of hope, quickly quashed, but then rushed back when he heard
“Hey handsome.”
Tony.
“You can touch me if you want.”
He couldn’t help it, he slumped slightly into Tony’s warmth, let himself have a moment.
“Hold this for me?”
That was Steve, and a soft hank of rope was draped around Bucky’s neck, the scent and weight providing comfort.
Tony’s arm wrapped under and around his left arm tied off somewhere above and Bucky groaned as the muscles in his shoulders unclenched, just a little.
“Let yourself go,” Tony murmured, his head tucking into Bucky’s neck and making him shiver, “we’re gonna dance.”
Bucky still wished he could see, but the warmth of Tony’s body against his kept the darkness away. Steve’s confident footsteps as he circled them, carefully tying a loop of rope above Bucky’s hips, but not around his front. He must have included Tony in the loop, a suspicion that was confirmed as Steve catching Tony’s right hand low in Bucky’s back, pressing the two of them together. Cozy, snuggling.
“Brace yourself,” Steve muttered, and then there was a hiss from Tony, and his chest was pulled away from Bucky’s, the rope around his hips tightening as Tony moaned happily. There was a breath in that moment, Bucky braced and counterbalanced Tony’s weight, and Steve did something with Tony’s leg. There was a pleased murmur from the crowd, and a happy whine from Tony.
Bucky took a moment to try and read the movements, try and put together the rest of Tony’s body from the pressure of the rope and the feel of his body, and he realized Tony was being dipped. Supported by the rope against Bucky’s hips rather than his arms. It’d be pretty, Tony’s lean body arched against Bucky’s stability. The right leg was probably tied into Tony’s back, something to keep his balance back, to force him to stay where Steve wanted him.
“Good,” Steve whispered, his fingers tracing the rope across Bucky’s lower back and Bucky felt a tiny surge of pride.
Steve continued and the rest of the crowd fell away. Bucky lost himself to the dance. Tony’s warm strong body against his, both of them lead by Steve’s confident rope. He could feel the tremors of Tony’s effort, his breath against Bucky’s skin,
And all the while Steve left the hank of rope around Bucky’s neck, grounding him.
--
Steve considered where they were. Bucky was strong and solid, the decorative ties up his arms were helping him support himself a bit more evenly. He’d lost the tense anticipation from earlier, and was looking like he was enjoying this. He’d occasionally tilt his head into the rope Steve had left around his shoulders, nuzzling into the scent.
Tony, was looking pretty close to done, dangling from the calf binder like he was hanging from Bucky’s left hand. Most of his weight is in the waist line. Steve took a moment to strip off his shirt, gotta keep the show going, and stepped forward again. He carefully, slowly lowered the waist line, untied it quickly while Tony panted through the new pain of his full weight into his calves.
Steve knelt, putting his head near Tony’s face “You wanna go up by wrists or chest?”
The wrist would be flashier, but it was risky. He needed Tony’s active participation in that.
“Wrists,” Tony panted. So Steve took up the tension, fed the line from Tony’s wrists to the hardpoint he slipped another couple inches to the right. Steve waited until he had a grip on the knot of his wrist tie, waited until he saw the tension in Tony’s shoulders. Then he pulled. He hauled downwards dropping his own body as Tony flew up. Suddenly flowing from inverted to horizontal, his body stretched between his wrists and calves.
Steve scrambled to his feet, saw Tony grinning fiercely as Steve locked off the wrist tie, quickly picked up into the chest harness so Tony didn’t have to work so hard.
And there he was. He’d gotten the positioning pretty good Tony was splayed out, face up, draped across the top of where the Bucky was tied. He looked like Bucky was holding him aloft. Arched over his hands. It was a very pretty picture.
But it couldn’t last forever. They were coming up on an hour and he could tell Tony was starting to feel it. Steve started the slow process of bringing Tony down, lowering him step by step. He could see Bucky start to brace himself again.
Tony’s feet hit the ground.
Steve tried to draw out the untying as long as possible, but the crowd was starting to get restless. He slowly unwrapped the rope from around Bucky’s arms, but once that was done he couldn’t stall much longer. He rested his forehead against Bucky’s, slowly removed the hank of rope from around his neck.
“We’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning.”
It was all he could offer.
--
Bucky was feeling expectedly miserable as he dragged himself out of bed the next morning, careful not to wake Brock. He’d brought Bucky into bed with him last night. For the first time in a long time, he’d fucked Bucky. But It didn’t feel like the comfort that Bucky had thought it would be.
He knew where it was coming from; Brock had seen that Steve and Tony wanted him, so now he had value. The thought sat sick and heavy in Bucky’s stomach as he prepared Brock’s breakfast, ignoring his own. He ached everywhere, his hand was maybe worse, he’d slept like shit. He didn’t want to put in any more effort than he had to this morning. Besides, Tony and Steve would have food. Probably.
He left the breakfast ready for when Brock woke up. He hadn't wanted to be woken and Bucky didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse that Brock was still sleeping when he left. But Bucky felt his mood lift slightly as let himself into the loft.
There was a tray on the table. Bucky had a vision of what felt like ages ago, watching Tony carefully feeding Steve fruit, and the feeling of want. He remembered them at the club, the gentle care then even with dried fruit. He was absently aware of Steve and Tony sitting on the couch, but it didn't really register. His mind felt like a skipping record, stuck on the tray of bite sized food. The want had rushed back and he felt so delicate now that it looked like he could have it. But it was hard to hope. He didn’t have enough to have this taken from him.
Tony stood, careful and slow, crossed into his line of sight to draw his attention. "Hey, Bucky."
Bucky blinked, made himself take a deep breath and refocus. He knew how to deal with this. He just had to do it.
"Hey," his voice only shook slightly.
"We're just going to have breakfast. No big deal. There's like fruit and pastries and stuff."
Bucky nodded. He must be looking pretty off to have Tony talking to gently and he tried to focus. He followed Tony around the couch revealing both a cushion on the floor and a space on the couch. Steve smiled at him and Bucky dropped to his knees, feeling a cautious, disbelieving thrill.
“But this is also aftercare, because we played with you last night, and this is how it should go.”
A soft flannel shirt was draped over his shoulders. He clutched at it, their scents mingled, he couldn't tell who had worn it last, and leaned back into Steve's legs, resting his head against his strong, warm thigh.
"You deserve good things, Bucky."
That… didn’t seem right, but Bucky nodded anyway.
Steve was carding his hands through Bucky's hair, Bucky let his eyes drift closed. This was nice, even if it was just this, this was nice.
But then cool pressure against his lips and the scent of sweetness.
"Open up," Tony said softly.
Bucky opened his eyes first, seeing Tony's dark eyes sparkling and then going slightly cross-eyed to see the strawberry Tony was holding.
"Open up," Tony said again carefully, an offering not a demand.
Bucky closed his eyes and opened his mouth, let Tony feed him the sweet-tart strawberry, and it was everything he had ever hoped it would be.
Chapter 7: Finding Home
Notes:
This grew a tiny little epilogue so the chapter count has increased by one. The main story is finished here though!
The epilogue may or may not be out by christmas, but it should be done by the New Year. I just didn't want to make everyone wait any longer ;)
Chapter Text
Things were different for the next week. After Saturday, Brock was talking to him again, fucking him again. They still weren’t really scening but that was because they didn’t have time. Brock was paying attention and that counted for a lot. Bucky’s daily efforts were acknowledged, his Dominant there in his daily life again.
But it didn’t feel like the comfort it used to be.
It was still a relief to leave for Steve and Tony’s loft.
--
“There’s not really any action that’s inherently submissive,” Tony was saying from where he was lounging on the couch, half propped against Steve, “It’s all about intent.”
“I don’t understand.” There was a stack of books in front of Bucky, Tony and Steve’s eager supplements to Bucky’s initial stash of pamphlets.
“Well the obvious is a blowjob. On one hand, having your mouth invaded is submissive. On the other hand, you have your teeth around someone’s dick.”
“There are things they can do about that,” Bucky said, remembering his training on how to properly deep throat.
“Okay, how about a demo.” Tony looked up at Steve, and… softened. His tongue darted out, wetting his lip, then he let his eyes flicker to the bowl of grapes. “Steve, please?” He asked, opening his mouth, all soft lips and tongue.
Steve picked up a fruit and held it up to Tony, who wrapped delicate lips around his fingers, taking in the fruit and licking Steve’s fingers clean. “Thank you, Sir.”
Then he winked, and his body language shifted. It was cocky and insouciant.
“Steve,” Tony said. He looked at the fruit and raised a pointed eyebrow. “Please.”
The please was more of a formality than an entreatment. And Steve shifted too. The fruit was presented as an offering. Tony nodded and allowed Steve to feed him.
“Thanks, babe” Tony said, falling back to neutral with a wink. He grinned over at Bucky, “See?”
“I’ve tied Tony as the submissive before,” Steve said. “I’ve tied him as a top, and as a dominant. Same rope. Different vibes. So there’s nothing that you can’t want because you’re submissive.”
--
Bucky drifted through the rest of the week, brain whirling. He was reading more than working, but Steve and Tony were encouraging him, and they didn’t seem busy so he tried not to feel guilty. There was just so much information out there.
Steve and Tony were there every time he had a question, but they were just as likely to point him in the direction of someone else, some book, some website or person, than they were to answer him themselves.
Bucky was starting to see a lot of things more clearly.
--
Saturday was a shunning.
Bucky gritted his teeth and stayed in his corner. It was easier that way to pretend like he wanted to be here, and not see the wave of people avoiding him whenever he moved. Brock had been so sweet to him all week, he’d thought that they might do something interesting this evening, but instead he’d told everyone in the club that Bucky was off limits for everything. No one was supposed to even acknowledge his existence.
It hurt. He didn’t want this. He thought that Brock could see his value now, and while he didn’t have many friends there were people in the club he liked. And he might as well be invisible. The worst was that Brock didn’t tell him he was doing this scene. Bucky just had to figure it out from the way that people’s eyes passed over him, the way they just casually drifted out of his range before he could even get close.
He’d almost rather be in the box.
“Rough night?”
Bucky blinked, the first time anyone had spoken to him all evening and it was Rollins, Brock’s slimy friend.
“You know, I’d treat you right, if you wanted to be mine.”
Bucky didn’t even know what to say. Rollins had followed Brock around, eager to be just like him. But where Brock had a certain charisma to go with his Dominance, Rollins wasn’t quite able to carry that. Bucky looked up as Rollins sauntered away, trying to look like he just wanted to be elsewhere, but Bucky could also see how Brock’s attention had shifted towards his corner.
Trying to steal him away, but not willing to make a direct play. Sleazeball.
Bucky was then jostled out of his corner by a couple looking for a corner to fondle each other in, they almost landed on him, as if he wasn’t there and he was pushed back into the main circles of the club where he couldn’t pretend anymore.
Brock must have noticed him hiding because every time he tried to settle somewhere, someone else needed that chair, that corner, that piece of equipment. And if he tried to find somewhere out of the way, Rollins was there and the look on his face when Bucky walked away from him was almost worth the evening. He was probably supposed to be so desperate for any attention that he was willing to entertain Rollins. He thought maybe the Bucky of three weeks ago might, but then again he was so desperate to be good that he wouldn't dare.
So Bucky just drifted around the club like a restless ghost, until Steve and Tony arrived.
“Do you want us to do anything?” Steve asked, his jaw tight. Bucky actually had to take a moment and think. He glanced around the room, Brock was chatting up someone young and bendy looking by the bar. Blond, thin, and female, she looked like a proper Submissive. She looked like everything Bucky wasn’t.
“We’ll throw a fit if you want. I’m excellent at causing a scene and Steve here can pull up righteous indignation like no one else.”
Bucky thought about it, he really did, but his entire life was in these walls. “I could use a chance to sit?”
“We can also do that.” And if Tony was disappointed that he couldn't throw a fit, it didn’t show in his voice. They just set themselves up in front of a corner, not so close as to attract Brock’s attention, but cutting off the angle of approach. Bucky let himself slide down the wall and buried his face in his knees, and let the comfort of the sounds of Steve and Tony’s rope remind him that he existed.
--
“You know,” Coulson said as he waited for Sam and Steve to finish unloading the boxes into the newly renovated SHIELD. Bucky was still on light duty despite his arm being almost completely back to normal, so he was just in charge of making sure the boxes ending up in the right rooms “SHIELD is opening again in a couple weeks and we need staff. Security, cleaning, education. Lots of different roles... Feel free to reach out if you’re interested or you know anyone.”
“What happened to your old staff?” SHIELD looked completely different from HYDRA. Instead of sticking with one theme, there were rooms. Some were bright, light. Others were rich and warm. But the overall tone was welcoming and flexible.
“We found some… undesirable elements had infiltrated us. Had to clean house.”
That sounded ominous. “Shutting down was a pretty dramatic response when you just needed to fire a couple people.”
“We didn’t know how many. And it was an excuse to renovate.” Coulson grinned, looking surprisingly chipper. “Sometimes you just need to make a mess.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone looking.” Bucky said, but he knew what the offer was. Bucky’s entire life was wrapped up in Brock right now. This was an out. He just didn’t know if he was ready to take it.
“You do that,” Coulson said, then he drifted off towards where Clint was struggling with a stack of boxes. “We have helpers, Clint, you don’t need to carry everything.”
There was a clatter and then Clint was trying to keep the balance of the remaining smaller stack. “Awww, boxes.”
Bucky found himself grinning as he wandered off to see where Steve and Tony had gotten off to. That had been the last of the boxes from the truck, and he’d been promised pizza.
--
Bucky was quiet in the days after they set up SHIELD. Maybe he, like them, could feel the beginning of the end. This Saturday they were going to bring Bucky to the club and that could potentially be the last they saw of him. SHIELD was opening and would start to take up their time again.
Maybe they could try to get out to HYDRA once a month instead. Just to keep in touch.
But those thoughts were for later. Tony threaded the twine onto the hooks, pacing the rope walk back and forth until he had enough set to twist into the three-ply yarn that was the beginning of their rope. Right now, they had promised handmade rope, and couldn't put it off much longer. He started spinning the yarns by himself, carefully monitoring the twist and tension and tried not to think too hard about what this rope meant. He should have done this earlier, before he got attached.
But that couldn't have happened, he was attached from the beginning. He’d never wanted to make this rope for Brock. But he still felt like he’d gotten the best out of this deal, so he wasn’t going to renege.
“Steve?” He called, once he was satisfied with the yarns. This next part needed more hands, and despite everything he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Steve and Bucky head down the stairs.
Rope worked best in sets of threes. He didn’t want to think about how much more balanced his life had felt since Bucky had settled into their lives. It was too early to put that much pressure onto him. He had to figure out who he was himself.
But with Bucky cranking to twist three strands into one rope, and Steve maintaining the counter twist at the other end, Tony carefully pulled the topper back through the newly created rope. Always paying careful attention to making sure that the twist was perfect. Crossbones could choke on it for all her care, but Bucky would be in this rope. He deserved the best.
It took the day to carefully twist together nine pieces of rope. Then Steve took over, burnishing the rope around a pole, then carefully singeing off the fuzz before working in a rich combination of oil and wax. Every completed piece felt like they were one step closer to the end.
Steve caught him looking, and shot him a rueful and slightly wobbly grin. They were both going to be messes after Saturday.
But this rope was going to be worth Bucky.
--
“So this is it,” Steve said. Brock had met them at the door this time. They were hovering awkwardly, not sure if they wanted to go in this time. They’d said their goodbyes already back at the shop, and this was just going to get awkward if it was drawn out too long.
“Can I ask something, Sir?” Bucky was the perfect picture of subservience as he turned to Brock.
“You can ask,” Brock said.
“Can they tie me? Just once. As a goodbye.”
“You got a kit?” Brock asked, “Because you’re not using mine.”
“Oh we’ve always got rope,” Tony grinned toothily. Steve wanted to kick him because this was not the time to get Brock’s back up. He didn’t want to ruin this.
But Brock just stepped away from the entrance to the club, gesturing extravagantly. “Then be my guest.”
--
“You can undress to the level you’re comfortable with.” Steve said quietly as Tony unpacked the rope.
They were off to the corner, on one of the areas with the padded floors. He was a little surprised. He’d half expected one of the dramatic suspensions like Steve had done the night with the blackout lenses. But he didn’t put too much thought into it. He trusted them.
The club was almost empty, just a few volunteers and staff running around. Normally Bucky would be helping, but not tonight. He had better things to do right now.
He skimmed down to his boxers, wanting as little as possible between him and them. There was a thump as Tony dropped the bundle of ropes, and then Steve was guiding Bucky down to his knees, following him until they were kneeling together, facing each other. Steve reached out, lifted one of Bucky’s hands up his chest, then mirrored the action with his hand on Bucky’s chest, and together they just breathed. He could feel the steady slow thump of Steve’s heart, could feel his breath rising and falling under his chest. Unconsciously he found himself mirroring him and settling into himself. The bustling movement of the club started to drift away along with the awareness of Brock’s presence.
Then Tony was kneeling with them, perpendicular to them. Completing the triangle. He slowly drew a length of rope through his hands, the beautiful golden rope that Steve had said used to be suspension rope, but now it was Tony’s favourite for when he wanted to be soft.
Bucky wanted to be soft.
Tony’s fingers were deft as they tied a quick cuff loosely around Bucky’s extended arm.
“We’re not going to do anything complicated. We’re just going to be,” Steve said, accepting the rope from Tony.
Bucky thought that it would be overwhelming, a show of dominance, and skill. He thought, when he asked this, that he would be overwhelmed by them. That this would become a proxy fight. But they didn’t even seem to care that Brock was watching.
Steve pulled the rope, drawing Bucky’s arm across his body before passing it off to Tony who was now behind Bucky. The rope pulled him backward and Bucky went with it. Before he even started to be concerned about his balance, Tony was there, supporting him as he twisted the rope carefully around Bucky’s left arm, pinning his arms into a hug and passing the rope back to Steve.
They moved smoothly and easily on their knees as they flowed around him. They didn’t use anything more than the one rope and their two bodies as they pulled him into shapes and it shouldn’t have felt so overwhelming, but it did.
He lost track of who was holding what, he lost track of what his body was doing. They were paying attention. Every time they pulled a sound out of him, every time he softened into the rope, they noticed and used it, layering moment on moment until Bucky was nothing more than three bodies and one rope.
--
He came back to himself slowly. A gentle rise as he slowly became aware of the lack of movement. There was still rope on his wrist, a loose coil draped across his skin. His head was in someone’s lap. Someone else was tracing patterns against his skin with… the brush of fibers at the end of the rope.
He felt like he’d just had the best massage. He felt like all the good kinds of drunk. He felt clear-headed for the first time in years.
“That was a good scene.” The words fell out of his mouth without checking in with his brain and he got a watery smile from Steve and Tony’s fingers carding through his hair.
“I’m glad.”
“I should get dressed now.” He didn’t want to leave this bubble, he was becoming more aware of what was around them. He could feel Brock looming in on the edges.
Steve helped him sit up, and then it was the three of them kneeling on the floor, facing each other. Tony held Bucky's arm, Steve carefully untied the rope, then coiled it carefully before laying it in front of Bucky.
“Do you want to keep it?”
Bucky stared down at the piece.
“No,” He said, and rushed through the next words when he saw their faces fall. “I want you to keep it, so you can use it on me again, someday.”
“We’d like that.” They looked so happy. Just because of the potential of someday.
Bucky got dressed again in a daze, Steve and Tony were taking forever to re-bundle the rope considering they’d just used one piece, but he supposed that they weren’t eager to get back to the real world either.
But the real world came to them anyway.
“Alright, you had your moment,” Brock growled, grabbing Bucky’s arm “Now come on, you’ve got work to do.”
Bucky blinked. He looked up at Brock, looked at the club, and felt nothing. He closed his eyes, took a breath and knew what he had to do.
Steve and Tony had been so careful to explain to him that he could always say his safeword and they would do everything they could to support him in the aftermath.
Brock had informed him that a safeword ended the relationship.
He opened his eyes and looked up at Brock's face. “Freight car.”
Then turned to follow Steve and Tony out of the club.
--
Bucky was quiet on the car ride home, staring distantly out the window. Steve glanced at Tony, who looked like he was buzzing in the vaguely panicked excitement of what had just happened. But Bucky looked like he was still a little stunned so Steve just laid a hand on Tony’s thigh and let the silence continue. They’d let Bucky take the lead on.
They weren’t far from the shop when Bucky broke the silence. “I can find somewhere to stay.”
“Bite your tongue,” Tony responded immediately. “If you want space, we’ll take you wherever you want to go, and we'll even pay for a hotel if you want. But our house will always be open to you.”
“Do you want to come back with us?” Steve asked. He couldn’t imagine what Bucky was going through, he deserved some space if that’s what he needed.
There was a long pause from the back seat, then– “Yes.”
“Then we’ll be home in five.”
Once home Steve and Tony settled onto the couch, loitering in open invitation in case Bucky wanted to talk, but Bucky didn’t seem like he was ready to process anything. He just drifted through his evening routine in silence.
He paused before he went into the bedroom and stared at them for a long moment before speaking. “I’m sorry that I never got to be tied in the rope.”
“I’m not,” Tony huffed. “I’m gonna make a set for you that wasn't made with sadness and regret. What color do you want? I think you’d be gorgeous in navy.”
Bucky blinked. Tony waved off his lack of response. “Something to talk about later.”
“Okay. Good night.” Bucky said, and Steve waved as Bucky disappeared.
“So how are we feeling about this?” Tony asked after the door shut.
Steve took a deep breath and considered. This wasn’t a complete remedy, but Bucky wasn’t with Brock anymore and it had been Bucky’s choice to leave. Steve wasn’t going to pretend that would solve everything, but it could only go up from here. He reached out to grip Tony’s hand and grinned. “I think we’re feeling pretty damn good.”
--
Bucky looked down at the plain white and unexpectedly thick envelope waiting for him next to his dinner plate. The day had been busy with figuring out logistics of what next?, but Steve and Tony had insisted on feeding him. “What’s this?”
“It’s your pay for the past month. We run a proper business. Our accountant isn’t going to take ‘A Dom loaned us his sub’ as a line item.”
Bucky took the envelope hesitantly. Coulson had been in here earlier while Steve and Tony were out, reiterating the job offer, and pointing out that there was a small apartment above the club since it’d be handy for them to have someone to live on-site, in order to open up for the private rentals, yoga clubs, and alternative community groups that would be using the space all hours of the day.
Clint, Sam and a woman named Natasha had also offered access to their networks for finding work. He had options now. It had been a long time since he’d had anything like that.
Bucky pulled the envelope closer. “Thank you.”
--
“So I heard that HYDRA got shut down.” Steve said as he helped unload the final boxes of SHIELD’s latest rope order.
“I also heard that,” Coulson said, cool as anything.
“Heard someone dropped the building inspector on them.”
“Sam just had a conversation with a friend at the fire department. And then somehow the Fire Marshal heard things. And then someone at the city got involved. If they didn’t want to be closed down then they shouldn’t have been doing so many illegal things.”
“Sounds about right.”
--
It had been a hectic couple of weeks, but Bucky’s new rooms at SHIELD were bright and clean, and his.
He moved into a room furnished with offerings from his new network of friends, carrying a box of clothes he had picked out himself, and was immediately greeted by a colorful fruit basket on the table.
He set the box of clothes down in the bedroom, then pulled the card out from where it was tucked in the plums, and saw Steve’s familiar handwriting: Don’t forget that you deserve nice things.
Bucky felt his heart clench. He knew he needed time, he needed to get past the relationship he had been in before he started anything new. But he did deserve good things, and now had the freedom to find them for himself.
Chapter 8: Epilogue
Notes:
This one fought me so hard! I just wanted to write a little cap-scene and then well, it became this XD
I hope you enjoy all, and thank you to everyone who's been so patient with me and this fic. Happy New Year!
Chapter Text
The armchair Steve was sitting in wasn’t quite a throne, but they did their best to set the scene in the small room they called their library. They’d covered the coffee table with a tablecloth, filled it with bread and cheese and fruits, and scattered pillows around as seating. Steve was in the only chair in the room, wearing a loose white shirt unbuttoned and tucked into tight black pants and sleek leather boots. The lights were low and warm, not quite candlelight but it would work well enough for setting the mood.
It had been a year since Bucky had first shown up at their door, offered as a gift by an uncaring master. Tonight they’d be celebrating with an echo of that story.
He sat up a little straighter when the door opened, trying to project an air of an expectant, benevolent ruler, and lost track of it a little when he saw Bucky. Tony had done an amazing job. Bucky was tied in an intricate body harness with diamonds of navy rope stretching across his torso, moving and flexing with every breath. His arms were tied behind him, the thick bands of rope holding them there emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and strength in his arms. Tony stepped in behind him, his hand careful support on Bucky’s shoulder and as they came fully into the light Steve could see the gleam of the golden accents strung onto the rope. Bucky was breathtaking, and all the more gorgeous for the careful joy Steve could see in his eyes.
“For you, my Lord,” Tony said. Somehow he’d found a cape that he flared dramatically as he guided Bucky down to his knees in front Steve’s ‘throne’. “A gift most precious.”
Bucky flushed, ducking his head at the praise. Tony tutted slightly and reached down to tangle his fingers into Bucky’s hair and pull his head back up. Bucky let out a soft whine and Tony tightened his grip until he got a proper moan.
Steve extended his hand. They were just out of reach but Bucky shuffled forward on his knees with surprising grace, balanced by Tony’s hand in his hair. Steve waited to see what Bucky would do, and felt himself flush a little as Bucky pressed delicate kisses on each of his fingertips, then nuzzled into Steve’s palm.
“This is indeed a worthy prize,” Steve said around the unexpected rush of emotion, toying idly with Bucky’s hair.
“Only the best for you, Sire.” Tony took his spot to Steve’s right, leaning casually against the wingback of Steve’s chair.
“What’s your name?”
“James, My Lord, Bucky to some.”
“It’s a good name. And what shall we call you here?” Bucky had been going by B for the past year, no longer the Asset, still figuring himself out. Now he was ready to find himself again.
“Gorgeous?” Tony suggested with a grin. “Treasure? Beloved?”
Bucky pulled his head back. Steve could see him flexing into the rope and wondered if he could still feel the contrast between the smooth metal of the accents and the texture of the rope. “I was alone before you brought me here. I feel like a wolf who has found his pack.”
“Then our Wolf you shall be,” Steve said, leaning forward to press a kiss into Bucky’s forehead.
“Thank you, my Lord,” Bucky said, his face flushed and eyes bright.
“He’s very well trained and has been drastically underappreciated where I found him,” Tony said, “If my Lord would allow, I would like to show him off for you.”
Steve grinned at the eagerness in Bucky’s face and Tony’s twinkling eyes. These two had a plan and Steve knew he was going to enjoy every moment of it. He waved a hand airily. “Please. Show me what you can do. If you do well, I’ll reward you.”
“What kind of reward, my Lord?” Bucky asked.
“Whatever you want,” Steve said, honesty breaking past the admittedly thin veneer of his character. “You can have whatever you want.”
He caught Bucky’s fond eye roll before Tony stepped in, drawing Bucky, their Wolf, up to his feet.
Steve reached for a bunch of grapes and settled back to watch the show.
–
Bucky was gorgeous in rope.
The harness Bucky had worn into the room had been enough to suspend from so it didn’t take long for Tony to have Bucky’s body rising elegantly into the air. With a cuff around the ankles, and supportive wraps around his thigh, Tony manipulated Bucky’s body with ease of familiarity but Steve barely noticed the rope.
Bucky’s eyes had drifted shut the moment the line drew him into the air, but he was still attuned to Tony, stretching towards him whenever he was within reach, and Tony was staying close. Steve got to watch Tony watch Bucky as he let Bucky fall into a new shape, keeping a close eye on the contortion, careful to keep it from becoming too much. This was a night for celebration not a night for challenge.
When Tony started the process of lowering Bucky to the ground, Steve knew he could have stayed there as the distant Lord on his throne. But Tony looked up at him and winked and Steve thought that maybe this Lord was a little more hands-on.
He stood up and in two long strides, he scooped Bucky right out of the air. He felt more than heard Bucky gasp in happy surprise, then his eyes popped open and he grinned at Steve.
“Everything good?” Steve whispered as Tony finished untying the uplines so Steve could walk off with his prize.
“All good,” Bucky confirmed.
“Great,” Steve said, then rolled back into character. “I want to unwrap my prize now.”
Bucky wasn't light, but Steve could manage to cradle him close for the couple of steps needed to get to the cushions and Steve was never going to miss an opportunity to make Bucky feel treasured. He set him down gently and started the process of untying. He wasn’t in any rush. Tony had had his chance, now it was Steve’s turn to play.
Steve reached for the first rope and then, for a little while, it was just the two of them. Hands and rope and skin and breath. He kept it easy, but they both knew that easy didn’t have to mean soft with Bucky so Steve tightened as he loosened, deliberately searching for the moments that he knew would make Bucky gasp, letting Bucky feel his body and stay in the moment that was them together. This close, practically breathing each other's breath, Steve could feel every one of Bucky’s reactions, could feel him tense as the sensations edged into pain, then soften into what Steve was doing, trusting him. Submitting to them. He hoped Tony got in the tying at least half of what Steve was getting in the untying. He hoped Bucky was getting everything he wanted.
When the last rope came off, Bucky didn’t move, just stayed limp and relaxed where he was with his head pillowed against Steve’s leg. Steve felt something bump his shoulder and looked up to see Tony holding out a glass of water.
“Did we wear our Wolf out already?” Tony asked.
Steve tapped the straw against Bucky’s lips who didn’t even bother to open his eyes, just opened his mouth and took a long drink before answering, “I’m here, my Lord.”
“What would you like for your reward?” Steve brushed the hair out of Bucky’s face, then helped him up to a kneel when Bucky started to try and push himself upright.
Once Bucky was settled, Steve asked the question again and this time, Bucky had an answer.
“Food from your table, and a place at your hearth,” Bucky said, because he was good at these characters. Maybe because now that he was out of the pit that Brock built, he could see it for the game that it was and he knew what he liked to play.
But Steve had done his research too. He nodded at Tony, who passed him a smaller tray, with a small loaf of bread and a plate of salt. Steve tore off a small piece of the bread and dipped it in the salt. Bucky looked at it then looked back at Steve and Tony with wide eyes.
“No matter how you came here and what you were before, now you’re our Wolf. We offer this to you as hospitality for a weary traveler and honored guest.” This was just a game. This didn’t have to be a game. Bucky could take it however he wanted, but Steve and Tony knew what they were offering.
“Food from our table, a place at our hearth, and a chance to see what the future brings,” Tony said as Bucky took the bite of bread and salt from Steve’s fingers.
“Welcome to our pack, Wolf.”
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