Work Text:
Zemo’s fingers fumble over the flat keys of his laptop at the firm but teasing brush of a hand against the bathrobe-covered swell of his ass.
And not just any hand. One made of Vibranium plates that moved seamlessly; quietly, and possessively.
“James.” He warns; trying to focus on the screen in front of him, a half typed out email mocking him silently.
Bucky hums as he continues on his way past where Zemo is leaning over the kitchen table to the fridge; opening the door and grabbing the carton of orange juice and pouring himself a glass, before putting the carton away. “I didn’t do anything.”
Zemo rolls his eyes at the blatant lie. “You know exactly what you did. You also know I need to write this email to Sam.”
He hears the audible swallow of Bucky’s strong throat as the super soldier downs the chilled juice, letting out a satisfied gasp. “I thought you said you could multitask?” Bucky drawls, putting the empty glass on the side and coming up behind him; the hot length of him from the hips down pressing up against the peachy squish of Zemo’s ass and his thighs.
“Multitasking as in I can think about plans for missions whilst I’m having my breakfast—” He sighs, pressing the backspace button as he realises that the last few words he’s typed out make no fucking sense. “—not whatever it is you and your dick have planned.”
Bucky clicks his tongue and leans over his back; nuzzling at the nape of Zemo’s neck, large, mismatch hands splayed wide and possessively around his hips. “You saying you don’t want me to eat you out?”
His fingers spasm again at the thought of Bucky’s extremely talented tongue licking at his hole. He groans and tucks his head against his chest in defeat. Bucky knows he can never resist an offer like that. “Fine. But I need to finish this email.”
“That’s fine.” Bucky stands back, and Zemo clears his throat; eyes skimming over what he’s written, knowing that he still has at least a couple more hundred words he has to write to finish his report summary of their latest mission for Sam to add to the final write up.
He lets out a deep breath—in relief and disappointment—as Bucky backs off. He starts typing again, getting lost in thought as he thinks of the best way to say he just had to decapitate the Hydra asshole, without it coming across as inflammatory, as Sam calls it, when he jerks, feeling Bucky’s hands smooth up the backs of his thighs, pushing his bathrobe up to bunch around his waist.
“Keep typing.” Bucky murmurs; breath tickling the skin of his ass, as his thumbs skim over the heavy weight of his balls, up his taint, to spread his cleft and expose his tight, pink hole. He lightly slaps his hole making Zemo yelp. “I said keep typing.”
Zemo’s hands tremble as tries to type out actual words; biting his lip and swallowing down a guttural moan as Bucky buries his face in between the pale, freckled cheeks of his ass and starts devouring him.
He moves his fingers over the keyboard; eyes unfocused not even paying attention because Bucky was swirling his tongue around the puffy, puckered furl of his hole; wrapping his lips around it and sucking on his rim making him feel blood-flushed and slightly insane. He knows though that if Bucky hears the light pit-pitty-pat of fingers on keys stop, then so will his tongue, and Zemo cannot have that.
He types furiously; doing it by touch alone. He’s pretty sure only 80% of it is in English. Sam will just have to work out what he means for the rest.
His cock is hard and heavy between his legs; precum beading at the tip, threatening to spill onto the floor with how desperate he feels.
“Please, James.” He whines, pressing keys at random now.
The super soldier nuzzles his face deeper into his hole and pushes his wet tongue inside him; moving his Vibranium hand to wrap around the length of his cock, stroking it up and down slowly.
Zemo’s legs tremble where he stands; his release winding its way up his spine and burning in his gut. Bucky squeezes his plump, wet cockhead the same time as he fucks his hole with his tongue, and Zemo falls.
He spurts rope after rope of pearly white onto the floor as Bucky pumps him for all he can offer; licking and slurping at his hole until he’s a whining, shivering mess that has slumped further over the kitchen table; the soft swell of his cinnamon-speckled tits half-spilling out of his rucked up robe onto his keyboard.
“Fuck.” He pants.
Bucky chuckles behind him and unzips his jeans. Zemo stays there splayed out and exposed as Bucky tugs at his cock a few times, moaning as he feels the splash of Bucky’s come against his greedy, twitching hole second later; drops of it sneaking past his softened rim to fall inside him.
“And you say you never make a mess in the kitchen.”
Zemo huffs, because he clearly didn’t mean that in the context of being eaten out by his terrorising partner when he’d said that previously, and slams at his keyboard in frustration. His eyes widen when he hears the little swoosh sound indicating his email has been sent, and he hangs his head. “Great, just great.”
“What is it?”
He goes to his sent items and sighs seeing the email he sent to Sam; first half of his email clear and detailed, the second half making no fucking sense. He even signed his name as Nemo. Nemo. Like the fucking fish.
He just gestures at the screen and Bucky laughs a few seconds later once he’s seen what he’s sent.
“This is your fault, you know.” He grumbles; grimacing as he stands up and come drips down his thighs.
“You saying you didn’t enjoy it?” Bucky quirks him a smug eyebrow.
“No. I’m just saying it’s your fault.” He sniffs haughtily. “Now hand me some paper towels so I can clean up.”
“Yes, dear.”
+
“Zemo, what the fuck was that email you sent me, man?” Sam asks when he enters their safe house the following day.
Zemo purses his lips and refuses to make eye contact with Bucky who is smirking where he’s skulking in the corner of the living room. “Sorry, Sam. The cat jumped up and walked all over the keyboard, managing to hit send before I could stop him.”
“Oh right.” Zemo turns and escapes to his room; biting back a laugh as Sam’s voice suddenly becomes louder. “Hey, we don’t have a cat!”
+
(Bucky adopts a white cat he names Alpine, two days later. “Just in case you ever need an alibi in the future.” He says when Zemo asks him why they suddenly have a cat in the house. Zemo just rolls his eyes, but inside he’s impressed with Bucky’s forethought. He always did love a competent man).