Chapter Text
Bucky’s been watching Blondie on his failed date since the guy walked in with pink cheeks and a hesitant smile. He waited by himself at his two-top table for forty minutes, periodically checking his phone and watching the door, before giving up with slumped shoulders and moving to the bar.
He dragged himself to Bucky with his tail between his legs and a hung head low for a moment before ordering a whiskey sour. Now he’s staring at the bar counter with a dejected look about his face, seemingly in denial that he has been stood up, waiting as Bucky fixes his drink. It’s too bad; Blondie is nice looking. Clean-shaven, handsome face, and pretty baby blue eyes. He thinks whoever stood this looker up must be real dumb in the brain.
Bucky gives the guy a once-over; he looks nice in a navy button down and grey slacks, no wedding ring, and built like a brick shit house. His shoulders are so wide and his pecs are so big that the poor shirt he has on is straining. Bucky almost feels bad for the article of clothing but he enjoys drinking in that stretch over muscle too much.
“Rough night?” Bucky asks as he makes up Blondie’s drink. The man is clearly discouraged, his eyes sad and lips in a small frown. Poor guy.
Blondie sighs deeply and thanks Bucky when his drink is handed to him.
“Stood up,” he says, voice low but meek. Bucky wonders if he was on the verge of crying. “Again.”
Ah, that explains it.
“Well, I’m happy to have your company. What’s your name?” He asks, trying to be friendly. Flirty bartenders get bigger tips, sure, but Bucky may be hoping for a little something extra.
“Steve,” says the guy.
Bucky smiles wide and offers his hand. Steve takes it and with a shake he replies, “Bucky.”
Steve gives him a little half smile before taking a sip of his drink. His eyes flutter and Bucky notices just how pretty his long eyelashes are around those big baby blues. Bucky knows he makes a damn good drink. He used a good whiskey for him, and isn’t planning on charging him for the premium. Maybe that’ll give him some brownie points.
“You make an excellent drink,” Steve compliments. Bucky is doing the stereotypical bartender thing where he polishes his highball glasses and raises a brow.
“I’m excellent at a lot of things,” he replies, aiming for sultry but when Steve gives him a smile, Bucky cracks a laugh.
They tease each other with playful eyes for a moment before Bucky gets hailed down to make some drinks by a waiter.
The night progresses a bit, with Bucky juggling the few people at the bar along with shmoozing over Steve. He makes sure to bend over extra enticing-like when he “accidentally” drops his jigger. When he looks over his shoulder to see if Steve is watching, he finds a hot look of seriousness on his face.
It’s encouraging. Bucky’s not too shy or self conscious, but Steve’s got that goody-two shoes American boy look to him; he’s blond, sure, but he looks innocent. Like he hasn’t had a dick in that pretty mouth before. Bucky’s looks aren’t always to every guy’s tastes; he’s got longer hair pulled back in a bun and a single stud on the right side of his nose. (Not to mention the piercings under his shirt.)
Steve looks like he could have been married with kids by 25; got that wholesome look about him, like he works in marketing and has a house with a yard despite them being in New York. Maybe Bucky shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, because he watches Steve watch him out of the corner of his eye all evening, feeling drunk off the dark and hungry look on his face. Maybe Bucky’s in luck, then.
Three whiskey sours later, Bucky has a little free time after making a round of the house punch cocktails for a table of giggling college girls. He settles himself in front of Steve on his elbows, tilting up a smirk at him.
“Shame for a nice lookin’ guy like you to be stood up like that,” he says conversationally. Steve downs the rest of his whiskey sour and sets it gingerly down on the bar.
“Maybe not,” he says, dragging his eyes all over Bucky.
He can’t help but duck his head and laugh a little nervously. Sure, he’s great at talking to people because it comes with the job, and he surely gets out enough to be comfortable with flirting and making moves. But Steve’s gone from cute, sad guy to this blindingly hot serious guy that gives him super-heated looks over the rim of his glass like he’s trying to undress Bucky with his eyes.
And maybe he is. And Bucky can indulge in the butterflies it gives him, okay?
“What time do you get off?” Steve asks, clearly trying to be smooth and it almost hurts Bucky not to let out a nervous giggle. He glances over at the clock above his sink. It's only 10.
“Midnight, unfortunately,” he says, but then picks up Steve’s empty glass. “But that’s at least more time for another drink?” He asks hopefully.
Steve seems to be debating internally with himself. He checks his phone, and then shrugs and nods.
“That’d be great, yeah,” he says.
Bucky’s about to have a good night.
✰✰✰
Bucky does have a good night.
After getting out of work, Steve nearly slams him up against the brick wall outside in a heated and fierce kiss. Bucky immediately moans, fisting his hand into the hair on the back of Steve’s head and making sure his lips don’t leave his.
Steve’s grabbing him all over, and the way he manhandles Bucky makes him hot under his collar. Maybe he’s got a thing for guys that are strong enough to toss him around.
When Bucky is about ready to drag Steve into the alleyway and drop to his knees on the dirty city pavement, Steve huskily murmurs that his apartment isn’t too far away. Bucky can taste the whiskey on his tongue and he feels light as a feather when he commands Steve to take him to bed right then.
Steve obliges.
They stumble into Steve's apartment, the hallway dark and quiet. Bucky trips over something that makes a jingly noise but he can't pay attention to anything other than Steve's lips on his neck. Steve shushes him, and quietly leads him to his bedroom. Once he's got Bucky inside, he locks the door. He distantly wonders if Steve has a roommate, but the thought quickly flies out of his head when Steve's big body is back on his.
Bucky’s night goes from good to fucking fantastic when he finally gets Steve undressed and sees how big he really is. It should be a crime to be this built, especially when Bucky really only runs a few times a week and does basic push-ups and crunches. He’s not self-conscious about his body by a long shot, but Steve is something else entirely.
“Oh, what’s this?” Steve questions softly, sounding awed. Bucky’s just finished stripping, and Steve is clearly drawn to the little bars pierced through both of his nipples. Steve’s eyes don’t leave his chest, and instead he reaches out and thumbs over one. The gentle brush of his fingertip makes Bucky shiver, his cock throbbing where it is bare between his legs.
He pinches the nub without warning and Bucky startles a moan.
“Mmm, sensitive?” Steve questions, eyes still fixated on where his thumb is playing with the piercing.
“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs breathlessly, his own gaze unable to leave Steve’s gorgeous body. His muscles are so defined and big, and his cock so thick that Bucky almost wants to cry that it isn’t in him already.
He drops to his knees right there and shows Steve just how excited he is.
Bucky’s not timid; he knows how to give a good blow job. He knows that guys love to watch him open his mouth wide, let his tongue hang out so they can see their cock resting on the wet muscle. He makes a show of it, making sure to look up often while he laves around the head and then deepthroats him in once smooth swoop.
Steve is quiet as Bucky works his cock, pulling out all of his sloppy skills and tricks. Though when he fists Bucky’s hair and his hips flinch and push his cock even further into Bucky’s throat, he lets out a quiet, low moan and it’s the hottest thing Bucky has ever heard. For a man to be so reserved, to be clenching his jaw and working his throat muscles to stay quiet and in control, only to let slip a needy little whine?
Well, Bucky melts into a puddle on the floor.
“Ohh, baby you feel so good,” Steve purrs above him, and the endearment makes Bucky shiver. Steve’s hand is threaded in his hair, messing up his bun, but it gives him plenty to hold onto.
Bucky enjoys the feeling of being guided, opens his mouth wide and relaxes his throat as he takes Steve down as far as he can go. He moans a little, feels his saliva dripping down his chin, holds his breath as the head of Steve’s cock pokes him in the back of his throat before pulling off and taking a few deep breaths.
“Fuck,” Steve swears, and it’s music to Bucky’s ears.
Steve steps back off then, and in the dark of the bedroom he helps Bucky up and practically flings him onto the bed. He’s trying to catch his breath, swallowing around the sore little tingle from having his mouth and throat used, when Steve starts talking again.
“You got a preference? I like to top,” Steve asks as he climbs on after him, somehow producing a bottle of lube and a condom. Bucky can’t really see anything in the dark, but he can feel the bottle fall next to his thigh and hears the crinkle of the packet.
“God, please fuck me,” he begs, voice gravely from having Steve’s cock shoved down his throat. Steve practically growls in response and flips Bucky over roughly so that he’s on his stomach. Bucky can’t help but whine at the treatment, feeling small and light compared to Steve’s heavy bulk.
Bucky’s got height, but he’s always had a runner’s body. Between doing track and soccer in high school and for the three years he’s been in college, he’s built for speed and endurance, not necessarily strength. But Steve—Steve’s packed-on muscle, clearly into heavy and repeated lifting. The idea that Steve can pick him up easily, manipulate his body and put Bucky where he wants him without breaking a sweat, well, it hits a feral part of himself he usually tries to overlook.
“I was hoping you’d say that, pretty boy,” he says, voice rough like gravel, before using his big, rough hands to hoist his hips higher. Bucky’s not proud of the squeak he lets out, but it quickly turns into a whine when Steve’s hot hands grope at his now-exposed ass.
“Goddamn, sweetheart,” Steve swears, massaging the fat of his ass and giving the right side a biting slap.
The endearments are getting to Bucky; sweetheart, pretty boy, baby. It’s all Bucky can do to not start whining and crying out for more. Steve’s clearly older than him, at least in his early thirties, and the age difference does nothing to quell how hot Bucky finds older, bigger men. He has to bite his lip to keep himself from murmuring out the one word Steve makes him really want to scream.
He falls face-first into the mattress, grabbing onto the fabric under him and moaning into it as Steve uses a dry finger to rub around his hole. Steve’s manhandling him again; those big hands touching him wherever their owner decides, squeezing at his ass and pulling his cheeks apart before giving another smack or two.
Bucky is practically vibrating out of his skin; he’s a whining mess, trying so hard not to say what he wants to. He buries his face into the sheets, biting down into the blankets to keep himself from crying out. Steve ticks every one of his boxes; he knew it when he first laid eyes on him at the bar, knew it the moment Steve started flirting back with him.
“What happened to that sassy mouth I got so fond of? Hmm, baby?” the older man prompts as a slick finger slides right inside of him. Bucky moans into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut and the back of his neck going hot from the treatment and the question.
He’s barely used to the one finger before it's being pulled out and replaced with two, making his achy hole stretch deliciously. The pads of the fingertips go straight to rubbing his sweet spot hard, fingers guided directly to it almost as if Steve could see inside of him. It makes Bucky shake apart and wail into the bed.
“Thought I asked you a question, baby boy,” Steve rumbles from behind him, dark and dirty while he takes Bucky apart so sweetly with his fingers.
Bucky gasps and turns his head to the side so he can breathe, trying to catch his breath from how much moaning he’s been doing into the blanket below his face. The bun on his hair is loose from Steve’s tugging on it earlier, and he can barely see through the flyaways to look up to Steve when he rasps:
“Keep callin’ me baby and I’m going to hav’ta call you daddy,” he threatens emptily, eyes glued to Steve’s face to gauge his reaction. His throat is burning to cry out the name, to beg to be fucked, but he knows from unfortunate experiences that it isn’t every man’s cup a tea—he’s been mocked plenty for it; often asked, ”What, do you have daddy issues or something?”
His cheeks feel like they're on fire, shame fizzling in his gut like a sparkler set aflame. He waits for the scoff, for the ”Ew, don’t call me that.” But neither ever come; instead, Steve’s eyes seem to darken, his chin tips down and eyelids droop a little as he stares Bucky down. The fingers inside of him rub mercilessly down on his prostate and it makes Bucky whimper from the intense feeling of it.
“Say it,” Steve demands, and Bucky is feeling a little distracted by the teasing in his hole to respond quick enough. He blinks up, confused for a moment, and it’s apparently a moment too long because Steve’s reaching down with his free hand and returning his fist to the mussed bun of Bucky’s hair.
He grips his hair tightly and uses his fistful to angle Bucky’s head so that he’s facing him.
“Say it, baby boy,” Steve nearly hisses at him, low and dangerous and it makes Bucky’s spine shiver.
“Daddy,” he moans, giving Steve—and himself—what he wants. Steve groans at the name, a third finger slipping in with the other two as they fuck him. It feels so good, both Steve’s fingers and to be able to say it out loud, and it makes him whine and beg to be fucked already.
“Daddy, daddy, I’m ready—please, please,” he begs frantically, pushing his ass back on Steve’s fingers and shivering at how Steve’s hand tightens in his hair before letting go. He receives a sharp smack to his asscheek for his trouble, and it makes his body flinch up and then melt into the bed.
“Wasn’t I lucky to come across you, hmm baby boy?” Steve asks him, sounding appreciative and downright seductive. Bucky hears the rip of foil from the condom wrapper followed by the uncapping of the lube bottle a moment later and it makes him let out a little whine.
He’s not expecting the slap to his wet hole, and it makes him yelp and jerk away for a second before settling back down on his quivering knees. Steve hums behind him, and then Bucky feels what must be Steve’s cockhead tapping against his entrance.
His face is burning from the treatment; he’s glad the lights are off because he’s sure he’s beet red from the demeaning treatment. There’s a wet noise from the smacks, and then without warning, Steve fucks his cock into him halfway.
It makes Bucky wail into the bed, trying to be at least a little conscious of his noises. He earns himself another thwack to his ass from Steve’s hand for it, and then Steve’s pulling out a bit and fucking in deeper than before.
It takes him a few thrusts, in and out and in and out, to get his thick cock in all the way to the hilt. Bucky feels like his body is quaking apart from it, his ass spasming around the intrusion and not able to help himself from clenching down around such girth. He’s no virgin, but it’s been a few months since he’s gotten this lucky and it’s been even longer since he’s had someone as big as Steve, but he’s obsessed with the achy stretch and how full he feels.
“Goddamn, baby boy,” Steve swears under his breath before giving Bucky’s ass another hearty slap. Bucky moans a quiet, “Daddy,” in return, and then Steve really starts to fuck him.
What amazes Bucky is how quiet Steve is, even as he’s railing Bucky through the bed. The bedframe makes no noise, surprisingly. Nor does the mattress creak. The room is absolutely quiet save for their heavy breathing and the little moans and whimpers Bucky can’t help himself from making.
Steve’s quietness and the silence of the room makes him feel like he should be quiet, too, even though Steve never expressly told him he couldn't make noise. Still, Bucky holds his breath, pushes his face into the mattress, and stifles his moans the best he can while getting the life fucked out of him.
It’s no easy feat; Steve feels huge inside of him, lighting him up inside like a goddamn Christmas tree from every nerve and sweet spot that cock presses against. The filthy slap slap slap of Steve’s hips hitting against his ass is the loudest thing in the room; the quiet squelching from the amount of lube Steve used a dirty harmony to their shared song. His rim is burning from the stretch and the heat of Steve’s body, but Bucky’s feeling like this might be the best fuck of his life so far.
“Taking my cock so well, baby boy,” Steve’s hushed voice says, words falling out around his heavy breathing. “So tight and hot, look at you. Like you were made for this dick, weren’t you. Hmm, baby? This lil’ hole made for daddy’s cock?”
And holy shit Bucky is on fire.
He practically cries into the sheets, nodding as best he can as he holds onto the blankets below him tightly. He’s not sure how much longer he can hold on; he wants to reach down and touch himself and get himself off so badly, but daddy didn’t tell him how he wants Bucky to come yet. He probably could come on just Steve’s cock, and the thought of it makes heat coil so hotly in his belly he feels like he is on the verge of snapping.
“That’s right, this hole was made for daddy’s cock,” Steve hisses, giving Bucky’s ass another loud smack as he drives in hard and deep, over and over. The bite of the smack makes him clench down as Steve fucks into him, making it feel like Bucky’s being split open on Steve’s cock. Bucky’s almost starting to feel a little numb from the friction of it, but the deepness Steve gets inside of him is so prevalent, every inch of him demanding to be felt.
Steve’s hands wrap around Bucky’s hips, gripping him hard and using his hold to pull Bucky back onto his dick as he fucks into him. He’s starting to feel stupid from it, eyes rolling back into his head, loosing awareness of everything besides Steve, inside him and around him. He moans weakly, throat going scratchy from the repeated “Daddy, daddy, daddy, fuck me so good, daddy,” he’s crying into the bedsheets.
His orgasm blindsides him. Steve fucks all the way in hard and then starts to grinds down into him, and suddenly Bucky’s coming like a freight train barreling down, his entire body derailed as he falls face-first into the most intense orgasm of his life.
He’s vaguely aware of Steve’s hand pressing his face further into the mattress, likely to quiet his loud moaning as he shakes apart. He’s spasming around Steve’s dick, which is still grinding deep into him. His thighs are trembling, feeling so weak and unsteady he’s not sure how he’s still holding himself up. His cock is emptying itself where it hangs heavily between his legs, indifferent to soiling the bed below it.
Steve finally stills inside of him, and Bucky, though thoroughly fucked with buzzing nerves, swears he can feel Steve’s cock twitch inside of him. He’s groaning low and long, but still quiet, almost like he can’t let himself be loud. It makes Bucky shiver, so used to men that are loud and abrasive. But Steve is quiet, and gently pulls himself out after a long moment.
When Steve walks away from behind him, Bucky collapses onto the bed, weak legs no longer able to hold himself up. He lands directly into the wet spot he made, but he can’t bring himself to care. He just had the best sex of his life; he needs to bask in this feeling instead of being grossed out by the cooling cold come all over his front now.
He jerks awake at the feeling of a wet cloth between his cheeks, and his startling makes Steve chuckle behind him.
“Fell asleep already, did you?” he teases. Bucky barely has the energy to turn his head so that he can see Steve, and he suddenly feels shy from how wild the sex was and how intimate Steve is being by cleaning up his most sensitive area.
But Steve makes no comment, nor does he pull a face as he delicately cleans Bucky’s rear and thighs from lube and sweat. Then, he’s directing Bucky to turn onto his back, and he clears up Bucky’s front.
Before pulling away, he makes eye contact with Bucky and leans down to kiss the navel of his cleaned belly, pressing smiling lips there before standing back up and walking stark naked into what must be the master bathroom. Bucky sighs dreamily as he watches Steve’s bare ass move.
He’s tired, both from the intense sex and the long shift he worked at the bar. He’s not sure where Steve’s apartment ended up being in relation to his own house, but he’s grumbling about the Uber he’s about to dish out for to get home while trying to ignore how much he doesn’t want to go home.
But it’s only courteous, because it’s not like Steve invited him to stay, or that this one-night stand is anything other than it is. He finally works up the energy to sit up, wincing at the twinge from his ass, when Steve walks back in with only boxer briefs on. He expects Steve to say something like, “I had a really nice time,” which is so stereotypical (though Bucky understands the alternative, “You were a really good fuck,” is much too crass) when Steve completely surprises him and says:
“Oh, it’s late, you’re welcome to stay.”
Bucky glances up, mouth hanging open a bit in surprise. Steve just smiles down at him and uses one of his big, warm hands to smooth the flyaways from his face.
“C’mon, baby, you already fell asleep. I don’t feel comfortable with you making your way home this time of night when you’re so tired. My bed is comfy, share it with me,” he offers.
And Bucky—well, he can’t bring himself to decline.
So after he excuses himself to the bathroom where Steve sets him up with a guest toothbrush, Bucky lets his hair down, cleans up, and climbs into bed fully naked. Steve wraps an arm around him and slips off to sleep quickly, and Bucky can’t help but follow. What results is the best sleep of his life, though he isn’t sure exactly what caused it; either the thorough fucking, the cloud-like mattress and pillows, or being wrapped up in Steve’s hulking embrace all night.
✰✰✰
There's muffled voices somewhere that wakes him from his very peaceful sleep. He hasn't slept this well in a while—if ever—and he slowly stretches and feels that wonderful ache of well-used muscles. He sighs happily and turns towards the center of the bed, smiling to himself as he remembers how great last night was.
He doesn't usually stay the night when he hooks up with guys, but Steve's bed is super comfortable and Steve was warm next to him when he got pulled into his arms. It’s hard to say no to a hot guy who fucked your soul out of your body and his perfect bed, especially after working a long shift.
He notices he’s alone when the muffled voices grow a little louder, and he realizes it’s not talking, but arguing. He faintly makes out Steve’s voice and a woman’s voice, but he can’t figure out what they’re saying. He blearily blinks his eyes open, thinking maybe he should get dressed and take his leave.
He sighs heavily, sinking into the covers while debating whether he should get up. This bed is so comfortable, and the sheets are the expensive kind that are soft and stay cool despite the body heat. He imagines Steve splurged because the man is a furnace.
He finally grumbles to himself to turn over the edge of the bed, ready to slip out and run to the master bathroom to get ready, when he opens his eyes and is met with—
A child.
She scares him, standing there staring at his caterpillar shape, Bucky being cocooned in the big comforter. His soul nearly leaves his body, but she doesn’t say anything, and she’s clearly harmless. She has chestnut brown hair pulled up into pigtails, with wide blue eyes and a Blues Clues shirt on. She looks like she can’t be older than five.
“Why are you in daddy’s bed?” she asks him in her cute little voice. Bucky opens his mouth, suddenly very aware of how naked he is under the covers. He stutters, mind jumping between how the fuck he’s going to answer this kid and holy shit Steve is actually a daddy what am I doing with my life?
“Uhh... your daddy and I had... a sleepover,” he says, words sounding ridiculous to his own ears but he’s been around Becca’s evil spawn enough to know he can’t just say, ”Your daddy railed my soul out of my body last night.”
She scrunches her mouth and squints real hard at him.
“Daddy’s never had sleepovers before,” she says skeptically. Christ, this kid is sharp. Bucky feels himself start to sweat. How does a toddler turn him into a bumbling idiot first thing in the morning?
“Yeah, well, I’m daddy’s… special friend. Which is why I was able to spend the night.” He’s digging himself into such a deep hole. Hopefully somebody buries him.
She looks like she’s thinking for a moment, when Bucky suddenly blurts, “I like your shirt.”
Immediately, she lights up and looks down at her shirt. “Thanks! I love Blue and Magenta, they’re my favorite.”
He nods, liking the easy change of subject. “Mister Salt and Misses Pepper are my favorite,” he supplies.
She then smiles widely and starts going on a long tangent about how much she loves Blues Clues and oh, Bear in the Big Blue House is her second favorite, but also Dora the Explorer is also her favorite. Bucky does all he can just to nod along while vividly aware that he is naked in bed, ass still sore from last night, while also needing to piss so bad he feels like he’s about to burst.
Thankfully, that’s when Steve pops in and gasps.
“Sarah!” he scolds, rushing in to put himself between the toddler and Bucky. “Sarah, come on, it’s breakfast time, you shouldn’t be in here,” the giant man says as he herds out the little girl.
She peeks around her father’s bulging thighs in his tight jeans to wave goodbye to Bucky. “Bye, Daddy’s Special Friend!” she yells, nearly at the top of her lungs. Bucky groans and hides his face against the mattress, and he hears Steve’s chastising voice as the bedroom door closes and Bucky is alone again.
He glances out from his cocoon to make sure no other children are lying in wait for him, and then he jumps out of the cloud-bed to run into the master bath fully naked, scooping up his clothes on the way and locking the door behind him. He questions his life decisions for a good thirty seconds before saying fuck it and opting for a quick shower. If he’s going to do the Walk of Shame in front of Steve’s kids, he may as well be clean for it.
He rushes through a shower, ignoring how good Steve’s soaps smell, and after he’s dried himself off he ties his hair up into a damp bun and redresses in his clothes from the night before. He’d feel shame if Steve hadn’t fucked it out of him.
The bedroom is thankfully empty when he exits the bathroom, and in the light of day he finds a long hallway littered with a few kid's toys and two kid’s bedrooms; one is clearly Sarah’s if the Disney princess bed sheets are anything to go by, and the other is clearly a teenager’s based on the boy band posters and the “KEEP OUT” sign on their open bedroom door.
He creeps into the living room and finds that it’s connected to an open-concept kitchen. The apartment is clearly an upscale one, which Bucky gathered from the look of the outside from what he remembers last night. He assumes Steve’s a single dad considering he was invited to sleep over, and Sarah didn’t say anything about a mommy—or another daddy.
But that doesn’t prepare him for coming face to face with four sets of bright blue eyes when he steps into the kitchen, and only two of them are familiar.
Bucky feels like a deer caught in the headlights. Sarah waves at him as she stuffs what looks to be a pancake into her mouth, sitting at the chic dinner table between the living room and the open kitchen. A teenager with similar features sits next to her and scowls at him. In the kitchen, Steve is standing next to a blonde woman who smirks at him.
“Bucky! Would you care for some breakfast?” Steve asks him brightly, as if Bucky didn’t just fall into his little picturesque happy family breakfast. He’s starting to feel like a fucking homewrecker when the blonde woman pulls a purse onto her shoulder.
“Okay, I have to go, I have a hair appointment at ten,” she says before walking over to kiss the tops of the girls’ heads.
“Bye Auntie Sharon!” Sarah yells. The teenager gives the woman a nod and goes back to picking at her breakfast.
Steve kisses the woman’s cheek with a hug and waves her off. Sharon salutes Bucky with a wink before turning down the hallway that Bucky must apparently go to get out of this horrible, defining moment of his life.
Steve sets his eyes back on him and walks up to him while drying a plate with a clean dish towel.
“Sorry,” he says in a low whisper. “Sharon was supposed to keep the girls until noon, but apparently had a last-minute change in her schedule or something… I didn’t mean to like, surprise you with my family. But you’re welcome to stay for breakfast.”
Bucky stares at him with wide eyes, sure he’s giving away every single deep fear he’s feeling on his face. Steve seems to sense his apprehension and gives him a kind, yet sad, smile. He wonders if this is why Steve was stood up twice. It’d make sense; single parents aren’t a hot commodity in the dating scene. But Steve is nice, and fucks like a dream.
And yet, Bucky thinks as his eyes land on the teenager still scowling at him from the dinner table.
“Sorry, I have brunch plans with friends. But uh,” he gives a wink to Steve and a little smile. “Had a nice time.”
He hates that phrase. But he uses it for lack of anything better to say. Steve seems to get what he means. Thanks for the hot hookup, your cock is amazing, but I don’t do kids. Steve hangs his head a little low, but that smile doesn’t leave his face, even if it looks a little sad.
“Get home safely,” is all Steve says, and Bucky is making his retreat. Sarah says bye to Daddy’s Special Friend one last time, and then Bucky walks out the door of Steve’s life.
Or so he thinks.
✰✰✰
He’s at the grocery store, of all places, when he runs into Steve. He just got out of his afternoon Thursday class at NYU when he decided to swing by the corner store near his apartment on campus when he very nearly runs into a very familiar-looking toddler.
It’s Sarah, and she’s running into the aisle that Bucky’s walking out of. Shs runs into his legs and bounces off of him like she’s made of rubber. She lands on her butt and winces, but doesn’t cry, because she looks up and her face splits into a big grin.
“Bucky!” Sarah yells happily, and then gets off the floor like she didn’t just ricochet off of him like a bouncy ball. She runs back into his legs but this time hugs him at his knees, and he’s not sure why his heart trembles a little. She’s cute, whatever.
“Uh, hey kid. Where’s your dad?” he asks, looking around and not seeing Steve, Sharon, or the scowl-y teenager anywhere. He feels a little prickle of nerves at the idea of seeing Steve again. They had a one night stand, sure, and he didn’t really want to date a single dad, but Steve was definitely something else.
(He may have masturbated to the memory of getting fucked a few times since Sunday. He misses the dick, sue him. Don’t think about dick with a child present, dammit.)
Sarah leans back from her tight hold on his knees to look up at him with her bright blue eyes and smiling face. She’s missing a front tooth, which is new from when he saw her on Sunday.
“Daddy’s making sp’getti for dinner!” she yells gleefully. Bucky nods.
“Okay so…. Pasta aisle?” he asks. She nods, and then sits down on his left foot while hugging his leg. “Ohhhhkay I guess I’ll just.. take you there, then?” he guesses. She nods quickly and then giggles.
He heaves his child-laden foot forward, and Sarah laughs maniacally while holding onto his limb like a leech. It’s actually pretty funny, he thinks while he slowly but surely makes it out of the canned goods aisle and down the little ways to the pasta section. Sarah has a contagious laugh, and he finds himself chuckling along with Sarah when they finally make it to the aisle.
Except it’s empty.
They both stare down the empty aisle, and then simultaneously look at each other.
“Thoughts?” he asks her. She shrugs and then re-secures her arms around his leg. He looks around and thinks maybe he should have gotten Steve’s number after all.
Then, he hears Steve frantically calling for Sarah from the aisle back where they came.
“Alright, c’mon you gremlin. Your dad’s worried about you, let’s go find him,” he says, holding his free hand down for her, his other occupied with holding the small shopping basket.
She giggles at him and shakes her head, holding his leg tighter. He straightens and sighs, but gets to work heaving her back towards where they came.
“Daddy!” Sarah calls with a laugh. It makes Bucky chuckle.
“Da-ddy, where’d you go-o?” Bucky sing-songs, which makes Sarah cackle even more. They’re rounding the corner to the aisle, Bucky halfway through singing, “Da-ddy,” again, when they come face to face with a worried looking Steve.
“Oh,” Steve says, glassy blue eyes widening at the sight of Bucky with his daughter. “Hi, Buck,” he greets dumbly.
“Hi,” Bucky replies, mouth still not settled from the wide smile Sarah put there. “I, uh, seem to have gotten a leech stuck on me.”
Then, his eyes trail down to where Sarah is latched to Bucky’s leg, and Steve’s smile dissipates.
“Sarah Rogers, I am so upset with you. How many times have I told you not to run away from me in the store?” he demands, though even his Disappointed Dad voice is soft and lacks any hard edges. It melts Bucky’s heart a little.
“Sowwy, daddy,” Sarah says in her cute little voice and looks up at Steve with her big, sad, puppy-dog eyes. Bucky watches Steve deflate. He’s easy, apparently; give him those big eyes and he gives in right away.
“Uh, sorry about all of this. Uhm, you look—you look good,” the big blond finishes lamely, but it’s sweet in its sincerity. Bucky looks down at himself; he’s wearing an NYU track and field hoodie from their season last year and some comfortable jeans that are rolled up to his ankles. He looks like a normal college student, but Steve is looking at him with hearts in his eyes.
He feels bad when Steve looks like he gets ahold of himself, shaking his head a bit and leaning down with an outstretched hand to help Sarah off of Bucky’s leg. She shakes her head and tightens her grip.
“It’s no problem. She’s cute,” he says, looking down at his little leech. She smiles that toothless smile at him and his insides go wobbly again. “You look good, too,” he comments. And Steve does, look good that is. He’s wearing a button-up and khakis, much like the outfit he wore at the bar on Saturday night. Bucky has fond memories of Steve taking his outfit off.
He swallows thickly and laughs, not knowing what else to say. This is awkward. He turned Steve down. He doesn’t want to get involved with a guy who has kids. Bucky’s only 22 years old, he doesn't have his shit together. Guys like Steve who have a family and a nice house and probably a nice job to pay for said house usually only want sex from young disasters like Bucky.
But Steve is looking at him… like that. And Sarah is still wrapped around his legs, laughing like a weird hyena-child hybrid that’s somehow keeping a smile permanently glued to his mouth. And he finds, strangely, that he doesn’t mind one bit. Steve looks genuinely happy to see him, and Sarah clearly has no stranger danger after only one short meeting.
Maybe…
“Dad, they didn’t have free-range eggs so I opted for the organic. I figured you can afford it if it means eggs from better treated—oh.”
The spell is broken and Bucky is faced with the teenager. She looks a lot like Steve, in some ways. Bucky can tell Sarah and her are both Steve’s daughters; they have his eyes, and his charmingly crooked nose, though it looks artful on all of them.
The teenager resumes her scowling at Bucky, and sets the carton of organic eggs in the basket Steve is holding.
“Margie, you remember Bucky. My… friend,” Steve says, looking a little sheepish.
Margie crosses her arms over her chest; she’s wearing ripped skinny jeans, a Queen t-shirt, and a flannel shirt that’s rolled up her forearms. She’s clearly younger than Bucky, but he feels a little odd staring at her when she’s wearing similar fashion to what he’d find on his campus.
“Yeah, your new hot, young slice. I get it,” she sneers. Bucky’s mouth falls open at her bluntness, and Steve hisses her name and then is quick to turn and apologize to Bucky.
“Margie, that is not appropriate. Buck, I’m so sorry. Margie, you need to apologize to Bucky right now,” Steve says, looking back and forth between the two of them.
Margie rolls her eyes and turns away from them. “Why would I apologize? I didn’t say anything that isn’t true. He’s practically my age,” she seethes. Bucky winces. He can’t imagine she’s too happy to see her dad with a younger guy, especially if Steve and their other parent didn’t have a great separation.
Steve starts whispering harshly at Margie and then they start whisper-arguing with each other, both giving wild gestures with their hands and looking a little crazed the longer it goes on. Bucky and Sarah watch them for a moment, and then Sarah’s looking up at him from where she’s still sat on his foot and asks,
“Bucky, are you a slice?”
It catches him off guard so bad that it makes him laugh out loud, and he’s ignoring Steve and Margie in favor of kneeling down to Sarah’s level and poking her on her nose.
“I guess so, Sarah. Hey, I gotta get going, but it was really nice to see you again,” he tells her. Her smile drops, but then intensifies when he pokes her again. She giggles happily and lets go of him finally, and he helps her stand up.
“Bucky, you have to come back and have a sleepover with us!” she yells.
Steve makes a choking noise and Margie says, “Gross,” and all Bucky can do is hide his face and laugh. He gives Steve a salute, mimicking what Sharon did to him on Sunday, and waves goodbye to the little family he’s somehow become entwined with.
He gets the feeling it won’t be the last time he sees any of them, so turns to go buy his things and leaves the corner store with a smile on his face.
✰✰✰
That Saturday, Steve comes back to his bar.
It’s late when he shows up. He looks a little embarrassed about it, but seems to calm down when Bucky greets him with a warm smile and a saultry, “Welcome back, stranger.”
He sits at the bar and orders a whiskey sour. The bar is busy as it usually is over the weekend, but it’s past ten already and Bucky gets out soon. He already knows why Steve’s here, and doesn’t make it awkward by asking and making Steve explain himself. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s glad Steve showed up, even if he’s still a little in denial that he likes Steve as more than just a hookup.
Steve waits for him when they close up, and falls into step with him. The bigger man looks shy and nervous, clearly unsure if he’s welcome, so Bucky threads his arm with Steve’s and squeezes his bicep a little.
“Maybe we should go to mine tonight, hmm daddy?”
And they do go to Bucky’s. He had conveniently texted Natasha to be scarce as soon as Steve arrived at the bar, and she thankfully made herself very scarce and left the apartment empty for them.
Bucky does not dwell on what Steve might think of their shitty little college apartment and drags him in the dark to his bedroom, where he deposits Steve on his bed before promising to be back in under five minutes so he could run and take a shower and get nice and clean. When he returns, Steve is lounging on his bed with every button of his shirt undone, leaving smooth skin and rippling muscles on display, and his pants zipper unzipped with his underwear-clad erection bulging out from the opening.
Bucky wants to lick him from head to toe.
But instead, Steve turns into the domineering, manhandling daddy he was last weekend. He sits up on the bed and pulls Bucky to him. He practically tears the damp towel off of him and then holds Bucky’s face while he devours him with his mouth. After a soul-sucking kiss that gets Bucky thoroughly in the mood, he lays Bucky onto his bed, pushes his thighs up so far he bends Bucky in half, and then eats him out.
For a full thirty minutes.
Bucky’s brain is pudding by the time Steve is done licking and sucking and kissing his rim. Steve’s fingers have been stuffed into him for the last five minutes, and lube is somehow produced and generously applied so that Bucky is lax and wet like a cooked noodle.
Steve keeps him bent in half when he settles on top of him, legs wrapped around Steve’s hips. Steve’s knees get under Bucky’s own hips to lift his ass up, and Bucky can’t help himself from tucking his face into the juncture of Steve’s neck and reaching around to hold onto Steve’s shoulders.
He’s fully covered, secure under and around Steve’s body. There’s no stopping his moan when Steve pushes into him; his ass opening for Steve’s cock and welcoming it home. Steve groans hotly in his ear, and keeps pushing in slowly until he’s fully seated.
“Missed this tight lil hole,” he murmurs into Bucky’s hair, and the dirty talk really does something for Bucky because he trembles from the words. “Mmm, you missed daddy’s cock?” Steve asks.
And Bucky’s—breathless, suddenly. Because he did. He missed Steve, in general, but especially for his cock. He whines and nods, but Steve makes a disappointed noise and emphasizes it with a hard thrust.
“Nuh-uh, baby boy. Use your words. You miss daddy’s cock?” He punctuates every other word with a hard thrust, starting to build his momentum. Bucky’s already falling apart, muscles jumping and cock drooling on his stomach, the rough hair of Steve’s chest and belly scraping against his own hairless stomach and pierced nipples with every movement.
His nipples feel achy from Steve’s chest hair, and the stretch of his hole around that cock is making his head dizzy. Yes he missed daddy so very much.
“Miss’d you, daddy,” he slurs, but the last syllable turns into a whimper when Steve fucks in harder. He practically growls in Bucky’s ear and then hikes Bucky’s hips further up into his lap, making his cock feel even deeper than it is.
“That’s right, baby boy. Lemme treat this lil hole properly, hmm?” Bucky’s nodding before he’s even registering it.
Despite their position, Steve sets a devastating pace. Bucky’s been on edge since Steve folded him in half and stuck his tongue up his ass, but he’s legitimately not sure how long he can last with how hard Steve is fucking him. He’s held down and folded, completely at Steve’s mercy, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Steve’s still quiet, but he’s murmuring a filthy string of words into Bucky’s hair. It makes Bucky go cross-eyed, feeling even more tightly strung than he had the first time they were together. Steve has a mouth on him, whispering the dirtiest of talk he’s ever encountered in his sexual escapades, and he can’t help but admit he loves every second of it.
“Feel so good on daddy’s cock, you were made for this, weren’t you Buck? God, you open up for me so well. So eager, aren’t you? Love it when you daddy fucks you, hmm? Love daddy’s cock fucking you? You feel it deep in you, sweet boy? You wanna come on daddy’s cock?”
Over and over, Steve mumbles filthy things to him, and all Bucky can do is whimper and moan and nod and agree. “Yes daddy, love this cock so much. Daddy, fuck me deeper. Daddy, love your cock in me. Daddy, daddy, daddy, fuck that pussy—”
Steve comes first suddenly, surprising the both of them. He nearly growls into Bucky’s hair where his face is pressed, low and reverberating and right in his ear. It makes Bucky shiver from how hot and primal it is, hearing how good Steve feels as he milks his cock by fucking in deep and dragging it out with little thrusts while he empties into the condom.
After a long moment, he finally pulls out. He slides the condom off and pitches it into the garbage tin next to the bed and stares headily down at Bucky.
Bucky’s legs fall open, not able to hold them up anymore. He’s a little disappointed he—
“Oh—! Uhhnn daddy—!” he cries, but Steve doesn’t respond to him. He’s three fingers deep into him, pressing his fingers up and rubbing harshly at his prostate with Bucky’s cock down his throat. Bucky grabs onto his hair for a lack of better things to do with his hands and trembles from the violence from his sudden orgasm.
Steve rides him through it, albeit gently. He swallows him all down, keeping him held firmly in his mouth before pulling back and giving the oversensitive head of his dick little kitten licks. His fingers kindly circle that spot inside of him until he’s done spasming, and soon Bucky’s whining from the overstimulation.
Steve pulls out and off of him, hands and words going from hard to soft so quickly it almost gives his dizzied brain whiplash. Steve is already settling next to him, pulling Bucky into his arms and telling him sweet little things about how good he was, how good he felt, and how thankful Steve is for being able to have him like this.
It’s a lot more tender than his hookups usually go, but by now he’s gotten pretty used to Steve; he cleans him, and holds him, and presses nice little kisses down his neck. Bucky’s forgotten how nice it is to just be with someone, lying with them and sharing body heat after sharing their bodies with each other.
Steve clearly doesn’t expect to stay. He goes to the bathroom and comes back half dressed, pulling his shirt closed. Bucky’s still lying down naked, though wiped clean with the handy baby wipes from his dresser drawer. Bucky reaches out and hooks finger through one of Steve’s empty belt loops.
“Gotta go home?” he asks, looking up hopefully at Steve. The older man returns his gaze, and pauses from fixing up his shirt.
“Not necessarily,” he replies, clearly not wanting to mention the kids. Bucky assumes it means that Sharon has them for the night, and he doesn’t know how he feels about how much he’s gotten to know about this family already.
But there is only one thing he really cares about or wants in this moment.
“Stay? If you don’t have to go?” he asks, a little embarrassed by how unsure he sounds. But Steve just smiles down at him and starts undoing the buttons he’s just done up.
“Okay,” he agrees.
And that’s that.