Chapter Text
Two Years Later
“I thought you said you were going to knock my socks off.”
Steve groaned, cracked open another water bottle, and drank it down in one go.
“You said you could do it.”
“I can,” Steve whined, “but I’m only human.”
“You are no such thing,” Bucky admonished from his perch in Steve’s lap, then pinched his nipple to emphasize the point. “You said you could fuck me stupid ten times on my birthday. You promised.”
All around them the bedroom of their brownstone looked halfway like a frat comedy set and halfway like a warzone. Lingerie, feathers, handcuffs, and a ridiculous amount of food covered many of the undestroyed surfaces. The bed, which was one of the destroyed surfaces, was covered in hardened trails of red wax.
Steve was sprawled on the couch, his chest almost as red as his cheeks, which were nowhere near as red as his cock, which Bucky was trying valiantly - and failing - to get hard again.
“It’s not even close to midnight,” Steve panted, then squeaked as Bucky’s teeth fastened around the nipple that his left hand wasn’t pinching. Being mean to Steve’s tits until they were nearly too sensitive to touch almost never failed to get Steve hard.
Bucky released the nipple in his mouth with a wet pop and twisted it with his human fingers. “We’re only on seven, it is eight o’clock, and we’re meeting your friends for a surprise party for me in half an hour. If you can’t get me to ten, you owe me another present, Rogers. Otherwise you’re going back on your word.”
“I’ll call off the party,” Steve whined. His face scrunched up in pain and his dick perked up a little as Bucky cupped big handfuls of his chest and clamped on like a vice. “You hate surprises.”
“I do hate surprises,” Bucky said calmly. “But I love presents. And if you can’t give me what I want, maybe someone at the party will. Maybe Natasha loves me best.”
“Bucky,” Steve moaned, “just a little while and I’m good to go.”
“No,” Bucky sniffed. He sat back and crossed his arms and had to hide his amused grin as Steve looked bereft at the loss of painful stimulation to his chest. “You fuck me now or you give me a better present. Those are my terms.”
Steve put his hands down on the - apparently torn - couch cushions to adjust their position, and Bucky felt a little flutter in his stomach at the casual display of strength. When Steve was sitting more upright he lifted his hand, which was holding a plain gold ring.
“How about this? Is this a better present?”
Bucky’s jaw dropped. He’d thought that was only an expression, but suddenly he found himself catching flies. It took a second for his brain to come back online but when it did it was pissed.
“Steven Grant Rogers, you are never allowed to propose to me again. You are fucking terrible at it.” Bucky snatched the ring out of Steve’s hand and slid it onto his left ring finger without looking at it any further.
“If you wanted a good proposal, you should have done it yourself,” Steve said smugly. He threw Bucky over his shoulder and cheerfully smacked his ass when Bucky yelped. He stomped his big dumb feet all the way down to the second floor, where he tossed Bucky into an audaciously large pile of rose petals on the guestroom bed.
Bucky was trying to come up with some words to match his indignation when Steve started climbing into the bed with him and pulling Bucky’s legs open over his thick thighs. He was hard again, and smug about that too.
“Your friends are going to be here in half an hour!” Bucky finally managed to squawk.
“They’re your friends too,” Steve replied, pressing two thick fingers into Bucky’s aching, loose hole, and pulling them back wet. “And no, they aren’t. There’s no party. You hate surprises.”
“And yet!” Bucky shouted, pointing at the band around his vibranium finger.
Steve shrugged. He dragged Bucky’s legs up over his shoulders and lined up his cock. “You hate surprises,” he said, fucking into Bucky with a single thrust that left his eyes rolling back in his head, “but you love me.”
And Steve was smug about that too.
THE END