"Great and terrible standards," Bucky murmurs as his hands seek out what Sam has implied; there's a sucked-in breath when he realizes what he's being shown and told about, as his fingers meet the rounded perfection that is Sam's ass. "I've met me."
He pinches Sam on the ass. "I did, in fact, bring the silk rope." He is never using a different rope on Sam, despite how much he likes it when Sam complains yet acquiesces to what they both want. "And a few other things as well."
Can they start walking? Otherwise Bucky might just pick Sam up and make his own way to the balconies.
It skirts the edges of the things that bind Sam, as so many things between them do. Sam can't tell Bucky he's fae, can't break the masquerade. But when he says men he means Man - as in human. Knows Bucky won't understand. Wishes he would.
Instead, Sam takes the hand the touched and pinches his ass, and leads Bucky towards the stairs.
"I've been good. I thought of you a lot, and never once touched myself."
Sam throws a heated look over his shoulder. Lets Bucky sit on that - on Sam having gone without for three months, just so that Bucky could claim it all tonight.
"Do you have rules for me to follow or break tonight?"
Bucky groans, a combination of lust and slight regret. That he's Sam's taste? Not exactly. That he is, in fact, a terrible man? Most definitely.
But the look that Sam tosses him over his shoulder, combined with the reality that Bucky also hasn't managed to talk his way into anyone's bed (or flex his muscles alone, that used to be a good one) hits him like the champagne at this party often does. A light touch but a strong kick to the head.
Sam is handsome, and strong, amazingly flexible. He's funny and caring and listens even to the things said offhandedly.
But he saved himself. For three months. For Bucky. On purpose.
Some tiny shred of hope that he's not completely stupidly one-sidedly head over heels for Sam, who wears masks that look like they're crafted from feathers, blooms in his chest, and then he realizes he's been asked a question.
"Ah," give him a second, Sam, there are stairs, and your ass moving up them, and you're holding his hand and maybe this means something to you too? Because you were looking for him. Because you waited, for him.
"I'm going to keep you very full tonight. Enough that you might want to tell me to stop. What is our word for the evening?" In case Sam wishes to actually stop (hasn't happened yet, but Bucky was taught that such things are good manners when you're fucking someone nearly senseless multiple times in an evening).
Which is another thing, actually. Bucky is pretty sure when they started this, nearly a year past, he and Sam had sex once, maybe twice a day. But sometime between now and then they managed to work their way up to several sessions in a night. Which is wild. Granted, they don't tend to talk to anyone else for very often, dancing with other partners and spending time eating before they find another place to indulge themselves. But how did that happen?
Sam turns, at the top of the stairs, and Bucky is momentarily blinded by lust as he sees the piercings on Sam's nipples and remembers other gifts he brought for the man of his dreams.
Sam means that - he knows he could, knows Bucky would be a good man and stop what they're doing. But Bucky doesn't know yet that he fuels Sam with every drop of cum he fills Sam with. That it's a precious gift to Sam. That Sam is insatiable not just in the hypothetical. It can be dangerous for a human to give in to fae whims - there have been those who perished trying to keep pace with a horny fae. If Sam forgot himself, he could put Bucky on a bed and ride him for days without needing a break - but without affording Bucky one either.
Bucky's lucky that Sam actually likes him, not just his cock, not just the pleasure he gives so endearingly, foolishly and freely.
It's why they can do this so much more often these days. Sam's magic reacts instinctively, makes Bucky stronger, more virile. Subtle thickens his cock and fills his balls. Encourages his body to spill more of itself into Sam, bury parts of Bucky so deep they can never be taken back.
"You promise that so lightly. Will you make me drip?"
And he turns at the top of the stairs, sees Bucky's eyes catch on the subtle golden glint beneath the near sheer fabric of the tunic. Smirks. Casts a glance around - nobody up here, and nobody at the bottom of the stairs. Sam doesn't let go of Bucky's hand, but reaches up, makes Bucky cup one pec so he can fondle it. Then tugs his collar down and sideways. With Bucky standing two steps below, Sam's tits are on face level, and Sam is clearly offering himself to Bucky's mouth. Tugs him forwards, wants Bucky to get his pierced nipples stiff and wet and sensitive.
"I will whine the way you like if you please me well."
He's got it bad. Offers gifts to Bucky - the taste and feel of his tits, the sound he makes that Bucky covets so much - and wishes the man could see them for what they are. Wishes Bucky could want Sam in all the ways in which Sam wants Bucky - in passionate lovemaking, in sweetest courtship, in blissful mating.
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Date: 2022-12-16 05:19 pm (UTC)He pinches Sam on the ass. "I did, in fact, bring the silk rope." He is never using a different rope on Sam, despite how much he likes it when Sam complains yet acquiesces to what they both want. "And a few other things as well."
Can they start walking? Otherwise Bucky might just pick Sam up and make his own way to the balconies.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-17 12:28 am (UTC)It skirts the edges of the things that bind Sam, as so many things between them do. Sam can't tell Bucky he's fae, can't break the masquerade. But when he says men he means Man - as in human. Knows Bucky won't understand. Wishes he would.
Instead, Sam takes the hand the touched and pinches his ass, and leads Bucky towards the stairs.
"I've been good. I thought of you a lot, and never once touched myself."
Sam throws a heated look over his shoulder. Lets Bucky sit on that - on Sam having gone without for three months, just so that Bucky could claim it all tonight.
"Do you have rules for me to follow or break tonight?"
no subject
Date: 2022-12-17 07:13 pm (UTC)But the look that Sam tosses him over his shoulder, combined with the reality that Bucky also hasn't managed to talk his way into anyone's bed (or flex his muscles alone, that used to be a good one) hits him like the champagne at this party often does. A light touch but a strong kick to the head.
Sam is handsome, and strong, amazingly flexible. He's funny and caring and listens even to the things said offhandedly.
But he saved himself. For three months. For Bucky. On purpose.
Some tiny shred of hope that he's not completely stupidly one-sidedly head over heels for Sam, who wears masks that look like they're crafted from feathers, blooms in his chest, and then he realizes he's been asked a question.
"Ah," give him a second, Sam, there are stairs, and your ass moving up them, and you're holding his hand and maybe this means something to you too? Because you were looking for him. Because you waited, for him.
"I'm going to keep you very full tonight. Enough that you might want to tell me to stop. What is our word for the evening?" In case Sam wishes to actually stop (hasn't happened yet, but Bucky was taught that such things are good manners when you're fucking someone nearly senseless multiple times in an evening).
Which is another thing, actually. Bucky is pretty sure when they started this, nearly a year past, he and Sam had sex once, maybe twice a day. But sometime between now and then they managed to work their way up to several sessions in a night. Which is wild. Granted, they don't tend to talk to anyone else for very often, dancing with other partners and spending time eating before they find another place to indulge themselves. But how did that happen?
Sam turns, at the top of the stairs, and Bucky is momentarily blinded by lust as he sees the piercings on Sam's nipples and remembers other gifts he brought for the man of his dreams.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-17 10:24 pm (UTC)Sam means that - he knows he could, knows Bucky would be a good man and stop what they're doing. But Bucky doesn't know yet that he fuels Sam with every drop of cum he fills Sam with. That it's a precious gift to Sam. That Sam is insatiable not just in the hypothetical. It can be dangerous for a human to give in to fae whims - there have been those who perished trying to keep pace with a horny fae. If Sam forgot himself, he could put Bucky on a bed and ride him for days without needing a break - but without affording Bucky one either.
Bucky's lucky that Sam actually likes him, not just his cock, not just the pleasure he gives so endearingly, foolishly and freely.
It's why they can do this so much more often these days. Sam's magic reacts instinctively, makes Bucky stronger, more virile. Subtle thickens his cock and fills his balls. Encourages his body to spill more of itself into Sam, bury parts of Bucky so deep they can never be taken back.
"You promise that so lightly. Will you make me drip?"
And he turns at the top of the stairs, sees Bucky's eyes catch on the subtle golden glint beneath the near sheer fabric of the tunic. Smirks. Casts a glance around - nobody up here, and nobody at the bottom of the stairs. Sam doesn't let go of Bucky's hand, but reaches up, makes Bucky cup one pec so he can fondle it. Then tugs his collar down and sideways. With Bucky standing two steps below, Sam's tits are on face level, and Sam is clearly offering himself to Bucky's mouth. Tugs him forwards, wants Bucky to get his pierced nipples stiff and wet and sensitive.
"I will whine the way you like if you please me well."
He's got it bad. Offers gifts to Bucky - the taste and feel of his tits, the sound he makes that Bucky covets so much - and wishes the man could see them for what they are. Wishes Bucky could want Sam in all the ways in which Sam wants Bucky - in passionate lovemaking, in sweetest courtship, in blissful mating.