Work Text:
“So we agree, then? You’ll get your man—”
“Woman,” Bucky corrects.
“Whatever, your woman,” Steve continues, “inside Rumlow’s operation, and when we have the information needed we take him down together. You know you don’t have enough soldiers to do it on your own, don’t you dare try to leave me out of this or I swear to the Lord above you’ll regret it.”
“Sweetheart, relax.”
The ‘sweetheart’ grates on Steve still, but it’s hard to stay mad at the man who just fucked him sixteen ways to Sunday and left him wanting more.
Of course, that’s the problem—he already wants more, and from the way Barnes is lounged, still in his underwear and smoking a cigarette, a smirk on his face, the bastard knows it.
“Steve,” he says now, softly, and Steve looks up from putting his shoes on. “C’mere.”
He goes willingly, trying not to look too eager as he straddles Bucky’s lap.
“What?” Steve asks, pulling the cigarette from Bucky’s hand and taking a drag from it himself.
“Fuck,” Barnes breathes, watching Steve’s lips curl around the paper.
“Already did that, in case you forgot.”
Bucky’s hands slide from Steve’s thighs to grip possessively at Steve’s ass.
“I could never forget this,” he says.
Steve takes a deep drag before plucking the cigarette from his mouth and bracing his hands against the back of the bench seat behind Barnes. He leans in, and Bucky tips his head up, mouth falling open in anticipation. Steve exhales, blowing the smoke into Bucky’s parted lips.
“Good. Because next time it’s my turn.” Steve closes the scant distance between them, bringing their mouths together.
The noise that Bucky makes—half moan, half groan, but all desire—is enough to stoke the fire still simmering in Steve’s gut for this man. But he knows they’re pushing their luck with how long they’ve already been in this room, and sooner or later someone is going to come knocking, despite the explicit instructions they’d each left with their lieutenants. Samuel and Clint were both fairly level-headed, but even they could lose their patience when pushed enough.
“When can I see you again?” Bucky asks, breathless, when the kiss finally breaks. Steve laughs, dizzy and lightheaded from lack of oxygen.
“I’ve got a safe house in Flatbush,” he answers. It’s one he’s willing to expose, but more importantly, it’s halfway between their two turfs, and Bucky will hopefully recognize the offering for what it is: compromise without question.
“Saturday?” Bucky asks.
“God, what are we doing?” Steve muses.
“Either the smartest or dumbest thing either of us have ever done, would be my guess. Saturday? Yes?”
“Yes. Nine o’clock. Directly across from Our Lady of Refuge.”
“I know the area.”
“Good. Now get dressed before our men break down that door.”
Bucky laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. Steve longs to run his hands through Bucky’s hair, tug on the brown lengths shot through with silver and mess up the always perfectly coiffed locks. He vows to do so on Saturday when they’re not concerned with maintaining their appearances.
Three hours earlier…
“Are you sure about this, boss?”
Steve sighs. It’s not the first time Sam has asked him this question in the last hour, let alone over the past week. It’s not even the first time that Steve has asked himself the same question.
“I told you. I don’t see what other choice I have. I need Barnes’ help. He’s willing to meet. I’m willing to agree to his terms.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, I’m aware. You’ve made that very clear.”
“I trust the Romanians about as far as I can throw them, is all.”
“Yes, Sam.” Steve smirks as he slides his arm into his jacket. “I just need to feed Barnes’ oversized ego a bit, make him think that he’s getting exactly what he wants instead of the other way ‘round, and it’ll all be fine.”
“I still think you’re crazy for agreeing to meet with him alone, just the two of you.”
“Hey, if I die, at least you’ll know for sure who did it.”
“Would you stop joking about that?” Sam cries, flinging his arms into the air in exasperation.
“He’s not going to kill me, Sam.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Steve pauses a moment to think of the best way to answer that. He doesn’t have a good answer. But he’s sure of it.
“He just won’t. I feel it in my gut.”
“You feel it in your gut. You know, you’re too goddamned stubborn for your own good. It’s gonna get you killed one day.”
“Yeah, but it won’t be Barnes who does it.”
Sam sighs dramatically and looks up to the ceiling, as if he’s talking to the Lord Himself. “Honestly, I don’t know why I work for you. It’s not like you ever listen to me anyway.”
“I do listen, Sam. I just don’t always take your advice.”
“Again. Why am I even here then?”
Steve laughs and pats Sam on the shoulder. “Because you’re my friend.”
“A friend who doesn’t want to see you dead,” Sam grumbles.
“I know. And I appreciate that. I do. I just don’t see any other options here.”
“Come on. Let’s get your dumb ass to Bensonhurst.”
The ride over is quiet. They arrive at the restaurant five minutes early, pulling up right alongside Barnes. Good, Steve thinks. He’s not going to be a dick and keep me waiting.
“Gentlemen!” Their host greets them with far more enthusiasm than is necessary.
“Fury,” Steve replies, nodding his head once in acknowledgement.
“Please, come inside.”
Steve and Barnes walk through the doors side by side, with Sam and Barnes’ man—Barton, if Steve is correct—doing the same behind them. The main seating area is empty, which is to be expected, considering that the restaurant is officially closed today. One of Fury’s men steps forward, hands raised expectantly.
“Arms out, please,” he says. The man is small, unassuming. Certainly not threatening looking at all. He looks more like a banker than a made man.
Steve watches as Barnes lifts his arms and spreads his legs, complying with the pat down. He follows suit, and the man’s very thorough frisking is impressive. Not thorough enough, though, if he—
“Barnes has one knife at the small of his back and another high up on his left inner thigh. Rogers also has one on his right inner thigh,” he says, stepping back to resume his place at Fury’s side.
Well.
He hadn’t missed, after all. He must be the elusive Coulson, Steve thinks.
Barnes smirks as he shrugs, a completely unrepentant twinkle in his eyes when he hands over the blade at his back.
"And the other one?" Sam growls.
"I mean, if you all want me to drop trou right here to remove it, I certainly don't mind. Pretty sure that Rogers would enjoy the show," Barnes answers, winking at Steve.
Steve calmly reaches into his pocket and wraps his fingers around the handle, pulling the knife out from the custom sheath sewn into his pants.
"Oh, neat. What other surprises you got hiding in there for me?"
Steve sighs at Barnes' crude attempt at humor, exhaling heavily through his nose while remaining silent. He crosses his arms and looks at Barnes expectantly.
"Ugh, fine." Barnes reaches into his pocket and extracts the second blade in much the same manner as Steve had. It’s not like Barnes even needs the knives. Everyone knows that the man was a champion boxer—legitimately, not fixed fights—before he became the head of the Romanian family. He could easily take a pound of flesh from Steve with his bare hands, despite Steve’s own fighting abilities.
Once they are disarmed, Fury and his men step aside. He holds an arm out, indicating the private room at the back of the restaurant, and once again Steve and Barnes enter side by side.
The doors close behind them.
For a moment, they stare at each other. Steve is overly aware of how close they are when he realizes he can smell Barnes’ cologne. It’s a mix of bourbon and vanilla, with a hint of a musky undertone.
With a deep breath, Steve forces himself to step away.
His… appreciation of Barnes’ looks won’t do him any good right now, and he needs to remember that they’re here for a reason. And also that they’re supposed to be civil acquaintances at best, enemies at worst.
Even if he’s adding the scent of Barnes’ cologne to his mental database for use later that night when he’s alone in bed.
“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting,” he begins, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offers one to Barnes, who accepts, and produces a lighter quicker than Steve can retrieve his own. Etiquette demands that Steve accept the light. He leans in, inhaling as the tip of the paper flares in the flame. Before he pulls away, Steve lifts his eyes, only to find Barnes staring right back, an unmistakably hungry look in his eyes.
Steve is so fucked.
He turns quickly and paces away. His only hope is to keep some distance between them and avoid looking at the man as much as he can get away with.
“How could I turn down the chance to finally get you alone?” Barnes returns, his voice all smooth confidence.
Steve sighs. “Barnes. We’re here for serious business.”
“Oh we absolutely are, I agree.”
“We need to do something about Rumlow. He won’t follow the rules and keep the drugs away from the schools. Teenagers are getting hooked on that shit he sells.”
“Of course. Whatever you want from me, you can have it.” Barnes slides his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.
“Stop being an ass!” Steve shouts, frustration getting the better of him as he stomps forward until he’s right in Barnes’ face.
In the blink of an eye, Steve is spun around and bent in half. His face slams against a table with Barnes’ weight on him, pinning him down, one hand fisted in Steve’s hair as the other pins one of Steve’s arms behind his back.
“I’m being deadly serious, Rogers. If I wasn’t willing to help you, I wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting,” he growls. “And besides. There’s only one kind of ass in this room that I’m interested in, sweetheart.” Barnes rolls his hips to punctuate his words, rubbing his groin against Steve’s ass.
Steve struggles against the hold, jerking his free arm back to try and elbow Barnes in the side. He lessens his grip enough for Steve to twist around, only to find himself once again pinned to the table, this time with Barnes’ hands around his wrists.
“Why are you fighting it? I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“Don’t flatter yours—”
His words are cut off by the press of Barnes’ mouth against his. As much as he secretly wants this, he can’t let Barnes think he’s won so easily. Steve bites down on Barnes’ bottom lip until he tastes the tang of blood.
Barnes pulls back with a wince, but recovers quickly.
“That how it’s gonna be? We can play it that way if you want. Fight me all you want, you can’t hide your interest from me, sweetheart.” He grinds against Steve, calling attention to the fact that Steve is just as hard as Barnes is.
“Stop calling me that!” Steve hisses.
“Sure thing. Soon as you stop pretending you don’t want me.”
Steve clenches his jaw as he glares up at Barnes, who is running his tongue along his bottom lip, licking up the blood from Steve’s bite.
“Can’t do it, can you?” he asks, smug, when Steve remains silent. “What, you want me to apologize? Say I’m sorry for antagonizing you? For not letting you be a stick in the mud and just be all business? C’mon, Rogers. When are you gonna lighten up? Live a little? Have some fun? You’re always too goddamned serious. Always have something to prove.”
“Barnes…”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Steve licks his lips as he takes a deep breath. He could yell for Sam, and end everything right here. Or…
Or he could take advantage of the situation. Be greedy, do something for once that isn’t a calculated decision, isn’t thought out and analyzed. He could use this time, this meeting, for something more. Something he’s denied himself for far too long.
“Shut up and fuck me.”
Barnes’ eyes go wide, as if he really hadn’t expected for Steve to agree, let alone to ask for it. But it doesn’t take long for him to act, and this time when their mouths meet Steve welcomes it, kissing back with the same desperation that Barnes now has.
They fumble at each others’ buttons, until finally they part and Barnes starts pulling his clothes off. Steve does the same, and then suddenly realizes there will be no comfortable way for them to do this. Especially when he gets sight of the size of Barnes’ cock.
He doesn’t care.
If they never do this again, Steve wants to feel it, remember it for days.
Barnes looks around and grabs a small decanter of oil from the table nearby.
“Lemme see that pretty peach of yours, sweetheart.”
Steve turns and bends back over the same table, spreading his legs wide as he shoves his ass in the air.
“Damn, Rogers,” Barnes says, with a low and appreciative whistle. “Look at that. So pink and small. I can’t wait to see it stretched out around me.”
“Christ, Barnes, do you ever shut up?”
“S’pose you might as well call me Bucky now, don’t ya think?” The words are accompanied by the push of a finger inside Steve’s tight hole. “Relax for me, Steve, breathe, let me in,” he adds, in a surprisingly soft tone.
“It’s been a while, fuck, gimme a break,” Steve replies through heavy breaths. He won’t admit that Barnes is only the second man ever to have this kind of power over him, and normally their positions would be reversed.
Instead, he tries not to think about how his name had sounded coming from those lips.
“There you go, gotta loosen you up. Can’t be making you scream in pain, don’t wanna get interrupted, now do we?”
Steve stifles a moan when a second finger slides in and grazes over his prostate.
“Ba— Bucky,” he gasps, unable to contain himself when Barnes’ free hand closes around his cock, working him in rhythm with the fingers pumping in and out of his ass.
“Fuck,” Bucky moans. “God, that sounds—say it again.”
“Bucky!” Steve’s startled cry flies from his lips before he can quiet himself, too shocked by the press of two more fingers at once. “Oh God, yes, that feels so good, oh, there, yes,” he babbles, feeling his sack draw up tight as he’s about to come.
“Sorry, doll, but I can’t wait much longer. Gotta get inside you.” As suddenly as he’d started, his fingers withdraw. Before Steve can say anything, the fat head of Barnes’ cock is pressing at his rim.
“Breathe, Stevie, let me— ohhh fuck, yes.”
Bucky moans as he slips in, his hands gripping tightly to Steve’s hips.
Steve clutches the edges of the table, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he fights to hold in his own moans. He’s only halfway successful; his cries of pleasure become trapped in his throat and turn into high pitched whines as Barnes bottoms out.
“Fuck, you feel even better than I’d imagined.” Bucky’s voice is strained, a harsh whisper giving sound to thoughts that Steve is pretty sure weren’t meant to be spoken.
“You gonna move, or just admire it all day?” Steve taunts, turning his head to the side to raise an eyebrow at Barnes. It has the desired effect, inciting Bucky to snap his hips and drive his cock even deeper into Steve. He laughs softly, not even trying to hide his smirk.
“Was tryin’ to be nice, since you said it’s been a while,” Barnes growls, glaring at him.
“I don’t want it nice. I want to feel it.”
Steve watches Bucky’s nose flare as he inhales sharply.
“I can do that,” he promises with a slight nod of his head.
Barnes starts up a punishing pace, and soon Steve has his face buried against his arm, teeth digging into his own bicep to muffle his cries. Skin slaps against skin as Bucky drives into Steve, splitting him open, forcing Steve’s body to make space for his thick cock.
He feels his orgasm building, and reaches down to take himself in hand.
“No,” Bucky growls, grabbing Steve’s sack and squeezing tightly. “You come when I say you do.”
Steve hisses at the sharp pain, which doesn’t relent until he drops his cock. Bucky doesn’t fully let go, however. Instead, he tugs on Steve’s sack, forcing him to rock back and fuck himself on Bucky’s cock. Steve whines, moving back and forth as Bucky controls his movements just by pulling on his nuts.
It’s humiliating and Steve likes it far more than he’s willing to admit.
His cock throbs, full and flushed and leaking steadily as his orgasm threatens.
“Please,” he whispers.
Bucky makes a pleased sound. “Look at you. So desperate for it. Bet it won’t even take that long, will it?” he taunts, moving his hand up to wrap around Steve’s length. “C’mon doll, I ain’t gonna do all the work here.”
Steve groans as he pushes back, working himself on Bucky’s cock while sliding through the tight grip of Bucky’s hand. He just gets a decent rhythm going and is on the precipice of release, when he’s suddenly stilled by Bucky’s free hand on his hip, holding him firmly in place.
Steve makes an undignified whimper and clenches reflexively, nearly sobbing with the need to come after being brought to the edge and denied for a third time.
“I’m gonna come, and leave my mark so far up inside you that I’m running down the inside’a your legs for days.”
“Fuck,” Steve gasps.
Bucky takes his hand from Steve’s cock and settles it on his hip. He doesn’t wait for Steve, doesn’t give any other instructions, and begins fucking into him with a renewed sense of urgency, chasing his own orgasm. Steve’s frustration is punched out of him as moans and cries with every jolt of his body from the force of Bucky’s thrusts. The edge of the table digs into his thighs, and between that and the strength of Bucky’s grip, he knows he’ll have bruises.
Barnes grunts as he slams into Steve and stills, pressed hard against Steve’s ass as he comes. He twitches his hips, trying to drive himself in further as his cock pulses inside of Steve.
He lays there, eyes closed, willing himself not to beg, when a hand clamps over his mouth. His eyes fly open, only to fall back closed as he moans with relief when Bucky’s other hand starts stripping his cock.
“C’mon, Stevie, I know it’s there. Lemme feel it. Want to feel that ass tighten around me. Wanna feel you come while my cock is still plugging this hole— fuck, yes, there you go—”
Anything else Bucky has to say is lost behind Steve’s cries. It’s a good thing that Barnes had covered his mouth, because Steve’s orgasm hits him like a sledgehammer. He comes for what feels like forever as the strongest, most intense orgasm of his life surges through him like napalm.
“There,” Bucky pants, his breath ghosting over Steve’s cheek as he leans over him. “That’s better. Now we can discuss business.”
~end
