Chapter 8
After breakfast, and a breakfast blowjob, and a post blowjob fingering, Steve went back to his apartment to draw a bath and take his meds. He could feel his joints acting up again, and he knew if he didn't soak in scalding water he was going to be completely stiff tomorrow.
The incandescent high of the night before was wearing off, revealing the bitter reality underneath; the uncertainty of a new relationship, the weaknesses of his body, the way Bucky had gotten a little quiet after Steve admitted everything.
He'd eaten enough breakfast that he was groaning and then they'd both come, sure, but Steve wanted to crack his head open and crawl inside. He knew he was probably overthinking things. This was the phase at which most of Steve's relationships ended; the sex turned into feelings, and then he admitted all of his feelings in excruciating clarity and detail, and the other person expressed themselves in their own way, and then Steve freaked out and ended things, or ghosted them.
But this was Bucky, and that made everything both worse and better at the same time. Everything was more fragile, more important, more meaningful, more delicate than it had ever been before.
Not everyone thought the way he did. He knew that. Sex was so simple and straightforward. Even weird kinks and fetishes had their roots in pathology, back to the first time he'd seen Bruce Bogtrotter eat an entire chocolate cake in Matilda and he'd had a funny feeling. Everyone was constantly at a disadvantage for not being able to see into each other's heads, and Steve mitigated that by overexplaining his thoughts. While it mostly just frustrated people, and even made him come off like some kind of know-it-all, at the end of the day his intentions and motivations were perfectly clear. And he still had to guess at what the other person was feeling.
Is he disappointed I'm not Steph anymore? What would things be like if I could be that person for him? What if I can't be enough for him? What if he can't be enough for me? If our relationship would make us unhappy one day, should we hold onto our relationship out of obligation to our younger selves?
The weekend passed and he could tell it was going to be a low-energy week. He warned Bucky ahead of time, and the older man offered again to get him anything he needed, but Steve wasn't sure how far in he really wanted to be. The work week was starting, after all, and not everyone could have completely flexible hours like Steve's.
He hadn't eaten all day, however, joints too inflamed to prepare himself something, and he contemplated asking Bucky if he felt like coming over and making them dinner.
It was a bad look for his brand, he thought half-joking, half-self-deprecating. He might give Bucky the wrong idea.
But eventually his fatigue got the better of his independence, and he ended up texting Bucky.
Steve: You working rn?
Bucky's reply came just a few minutes later.
Bucky: Finished work early. What's up?
Steve: Do you feel charitable
Bucky: For you baby? Always x
Steve: Would you come over and make me dinner
Bucky: OFC! Whatcha in the mood for?
Steve: Anything :(
Bucky: Is it open? I'll be right there
Steve: Let yourself in the balcony
A moment later, Steve heard the glass door slide open and Bucky stepped through. Steve was burritoed up in bed, one hand out and scrolling art TikToks.
"Hey," Bucky called, the sound of plastic crinkling. "I don't cook a lot, but I had some burgers in the freezer I could make."
"You're perfect," Steve told him, and he meant it.
Bucky grilled them in a frying pan, having brought his own seasoning and buns from his apartment. Steve let him take control of his kitchen, shouting out an occasional location when Bucky needed plates or chips. In forty minutes, Bucky had prepared one burger for Steve, and three juicy burgers for himself.
Steve sat up and put something on TV while they ate their burgers in bed. He could only manage about half of the burger, his stomach doing flip-flops. He half-heartedly gave Bucky the remaining half, hoping he wouldn't need to run to the toilet if he had to vomit again.
"What if this is all I can give you in the future?" Steve asked, unable to keep his thoughts to himself anymore. "All my illnesses are only likely to get worse. What if I can't be there for you when it matters? What if you get exhausted because you'll always be the one doing things for me, and I can't give you that energy back?"
Bucky paused and set down his third burger, wiping the ketchup of his hands with a napkin. "All I ask is that you be as open as you can with communication. As long as you're putting in an effort to be honest with me, that's all I can ask for."
Steve sighed. He believed Bucky believed it, now, but it might not always be enough.
Bucky went on. "I can't promise how I'll feel in the future. But I care for you a lot. I don't mind staying in, or spending time mostly at your apartment, or doing things for you on days when you can't. I know you're really independent. You always have been, and I've always wanted to respect that. But there's nothing wrong with accepting help when you need it."
Steve's deepest fear was becoming a burden, and he knew that was just the capitalism talking, telling him he had no value unless he was being productive. "If it ever gets to be too much, I don't want you to stay with me just because of our past, okay? We've already-"
Bucky cut him off. "Steve, if things get tough between us, I'm not going to stay with you because of some sense of guilt over the lost time from our childhood." Steve's heart sunk. He knew it was the right response, what was healthiest for both of them, but the child he'd been had been clinging on to the fairytale ending where they rode off into the sunset. "I'm going to stay with you because I love you," Bucky continued, breaking his promise at 16 to only say it if Steve said it first.
Steve, for once in his life, was speechless.
"I'm not just saying that because I love who you were. Or I love you only on your days when you're capable of the most. Or because I love how you make me feel. I love you for who you are, now, and I'm going to stick around when things get difficult. Unless you tell me to leave, I'm going to be here with you."
Steve hugged the larger man with all of his strength. "I won't tell you to leave," he whispered into Bucky's shirt, holding back tears. "I want you here with me."
"I know it's early still. You don't have to say it back until you're-"
"I love you too," Steve told him. "And stop interrupting me. It drives me nuts."
Bucky laughed. "How else am I supposed to get a word in? If I just let you go, you'll put me to sleep."
Steve laughed and promised to try and give Bucky more opportunities to speak up.
"What does that make us?" Steve asked when he was sitting on Bucky's lap, giving him a belly rub after finishing his three and a half burgers. "Boyfriends? Lovers? Partners?"
"All of the above," Bucky answered, arching up to kiss the blond and pushing his full belly up into Steve's hand.
Steve was feeling a little subby, a little desperate and needy after being so vulnerable. He was craving some validation, and although a part of him was telling him not to push it, Bucky had told him to accept support. "My Daddy?" he asked quietly. He'd already called him Daddy, but that was different. He called 20 different strangers on the internet 'Daddy' every week. He wanted Bucky to be his Daddy, his only one.
Bucky was wheezing lightly from all the pressure against his lungs, and Steve sitting on his lap probably didn't help either. "Of course, doll," he told him, and Steve's panties got wet. He was wearing a light pink thong, completely lace with a heart-shaped opening in the crotch for easy access. He'd dressed this morning knowing it was a low energy day, and he wasn't positive he'd be up for sex, but thongs were comfortable and he wore them just as much for his own comfort as for sex.
"You want to hump my belly, baby boy?"
Steve whined involuntarily. "Please," he whispered.
Before he crawled up, Bucky grasped a thick hand around Steve's neck. "Get a collar, honey."
Steve squirmed down on Bucky's leg, damp patch working through his booty shorts and onto the brunet's thigh. "I'll go into subspace," he told him.
"Not asking," Bucky commanded. "Color?"
"Green," Steve stuttered out immediately, hopping up and getting a collar that matched his panties. He had several, but this one he'd bought himself instead of one that had been gifted by a viewer. It was pink pleather with white fur lining the inside, and a holographic o-ring on the front that Bucky could pull. He gave it to Bucky, and stood patiently beside where he sat on the bed, allowing him to put it on.
"Take off your shorts and shirt."
Steve wasn't wearing a bra. Even with his muscular pecs, they didn't fully fill out a bra the same way, and they weren't comfortable under clothes. Those he wore primarily for filming purposes.
Bucky took off his shirt, leaving his shorts on, tented with his cock. He put the collar on around Steve's neck snugly, but not the tightest it could go.
Almost instantly, Steve dropped. The edges of everything blurred slightly, like a photograph taken with vaseline smeared on the lens. The colors, too, were smeared, almost like being drunk. He could hear Bucky talking to him, but couldn't make out all of his words. They were fuzzy like he was listening to TV on the brink of falling asleep.
"Color, baby?" Bucky repeated, the shorter sentence easier for Steve's hazy mind to hold onto.
"Green," Steve muttered again. He couldn't really consent in subspace, not fully. He didn't go into subspace on livestream, but he often faked it. He knew from past experience that he'd snap out of subspace if he was uncomfortable, like the one time a guy tried to put it in his ass without prepping him first, but as long as he was feeling safe, he'd likely respond positively to anything. He didn't remember everything after he came out of subspace; the broad events in general, but not a lot of the details. But he trusted Bucky.
Bucky patted his tummy, and Steve crawled up. Bucky put one hand on the blond's hip, thumb digging into the flesh over his iliac crest, his other hand around his neck with his forefinger sliding into the metal ring. The pudgy digit fit, just.
Steve's world shrank, sensations and thoughts simplified. It was the only time his mind wasn't busy with six different trains of thought; the constant narration of his actions, the commentary about his actions, plans for tomorrow, two songs of completely opposing genres stuck in his head, and the embarrassing thing he'd done seven years ago. He gripped his peach-polished nails (complete with a little peach emoji sticker on the middle finger) into Bucky's shoulders, throwing back his head and allowing his body to take control. His clit rubbed against the apex of Bucky's full tummy, sliding in the slick he'd produced. It didn't take him long to come, thighs squeezing irregularly as he neared climax. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Bucky's, panting and lazily grinding down as he recovered. Bucky was uttering praises to him, but the words were coming from far away. He couldn't manage an articulate response, but he gasped out a few affirmative sounds in case Bucky was asking his color. After the first orgasm had passed through his system, he geared up for another one, adjusting his position higher on Bucky and moving his legs from kind of kneeling on either side of Bucky to wrapping around behind him. The older man wasn't quite fat enough for Steve to fully sit on top of his gut like that, so Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck, shoving his face in his modest chest. Bucky mouthed at his heart-shaped nipples, and Steve whined and thrusted forward. Bucky must've gotten tired of holding up Steve's weight, because he leaned back against the pillows at the headboard. Steve adjusted his angle and kept fucking, moving his hands down to cup Bucky's moobs. He came again in a few minutes, and continued humping through his second orgasm to coax out a third. Overstimulated, the fourth orgasm was slower to come. Bucky was moving beneath him. The bigger man had removed his shorts at some point, naked and jerking himself off while Steve rode him.
"Can… can I sit on it?" Steve asked with some difficulty, wanting Bucky inside him immediately.
Without answering, Bucky picked him up easily, lowering his gaping and sopping hole down onto his cock. "Fuck yeah," his words came into Steve's ears in a moment of clarity as he adjusted. "Your little cunt is so tight for me. Good girl."
"No," Steve moaned in protest. No? his brain answered. He called us good. Why not good? He was trying to grasp at his thoughts before they slipped away. "Not a girl," he complained.
"No, not a girl," Bucky agreed. "But you're my girl."
I can be his girl, Steve thought. Cis men called other cis men little girl for humiliation purposes all the time in porn. "O-okay," he muttered, pussy clutching around Bucky's cock.
"Good girl," Bucky responded. "Of course you're my girl. Look at these tits." He thumbed Steve's nipples. He didn't have full sensation of both of them after the surgery, but he didn't have full sensation of anything right now so it didn't matter. Bucky kept his hands on Steve's hip, lifting the lighter man up into the air and fucking up into him. Once he tired of that, Bucky arched his hips off the bed, lifting Steve with him and sending his belly rippling.
"Ohmygod," Steve moaned, eyes glued to his midsection. He swore he could see new stretch marks there. He was saying something without being fully aware of his words, and he was half-conscious of the fact he should be careful what he said, but not aware enough to actually stop himself from speaking. Whatever his comments, Bucky didn't seem to mind, nearing his own climax.
"No, no," Steve begged. "Almost… I'm almost…"
"Come for me," Bucky ordered. "Come now."
"Can't," Steve whined, fucking down as hard as he could, filthy sounds filling the apartment. He was getting rubbed raw in the best way, overstimulated from wringing three orgasms out.
Bucky grabbed his own tummy with one hand. Steve watched transfixed as he jiggled it, the soft flesh moving in slow motion, tits wobbling above it in tandem. He imagined Bucky bigger, much bigger, so big he couldn't ride him and still have his knees reach the mattress. He imagined him so big that his belly would rest on the bed on all fours, climbing on top of him, suffocating him with fat that covered him from his groin to his neck, lifting up his fat pad and his belly so he could sink his dick into Steve's cunt. So big he couldn't reach his own dick to jerk off without leaning to the side, laying back on the bed and ordering Steve to blow him, so big he'd have to lift his massive belly out of the way so Steve could wrap his lips around his dick, so big the base would be covered in more fat, reducing the overall length until Steve couldn't deepthroat him anymore, so big his tits would wrap around his sides and crease his back in two huge rolls, so he couldn't even put his arms down the whole way, so big his neck would disappear entirely and his bearded chin would lap over his collars, so big he'd eat six regular meals a day and wake up during the night to have a few snacks then, too.
Steve came with a cry, clutching into Bucky's moobs hard enough to bruise, and Bucky was coming, too, filling up his aching cunt with his seed. Steve tried to roll off, but Bucky held him there, riding out the orgasm as the blond whined from overstimulation, begging for Bucky to give his pussy some relief.
After he was satisfied, Bucky let go, and Steve laid on his back beside him. Bucky sat up on one arm, hand dipping three fingers into the mess of come in Steve's vagina, thumbing his clit.
"Please," Steve begged, his tdick jumping. "Too much." It was so sore but it felt so good.
"One more, baby boy," Bucky urged. "Come one more time for me."
"Can't!" Steve exclaimed, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, but not pushing Bucky's hand away.
"Yes, you can. One more time."
It would take a while. Bucky seemed content to finger him until he did. He kept up the same motions, rocking his fingers in and out of Steve, teasing at the roof of his vagina while he circled his clit, careful not to rub the head too hard.
Steve closed his eyes and let himself relax into the sensations. He drifted back into fantasy, imagining Bucky eating an insane amount of food, an entire table laden with a feast. He imagined turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, all the Thanksgiving fixings, pineapple ham with cherries, 24 oz steaks, racks of ribs, dripping, juicy burgers, platters of chicken wings, and further down the table, desserts; three-tier chocolate cakes with chocolate frosting, cheesecake, carrot cake, apple, blueberry, and cherry pie, ice cream sundaes, milkshakes to wash it all down, weight-gain powder cake mix shakes, boost drinks mixed with heavy cream, cans of whipped cream. He fantasized Bucky eating it all, belly bloating to mythical proportions, food enough for week disappearing into his hungry mouth, metabolism working double-time to process all the calories, fat crowding onto his already heavy frame, gaining before Steve's eyes, growing out of his imaginary chair and getting stuck on the armrests until they snapped off, the chair following suit as the legs broke, and still he ate like a starving man, devouring everything on the table until his gut rested on the ground in front of him.
He felt like he was the wettest he'd been in his life. Bucky's fingers were squelching in and out of him, increasing intensity as he drew nearer to his fifth orgasm.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy," Steve chanted, bucking his hips into the air both to try and escape Bucky's fingers and to bring himself to completion. Just as he thought he might not be able to come again so soon, the fifth orgasm tore through him, building like a white hot fire that burned through every vein in his body. He arched his back into Bucky's touch, both his hands clamped over Bucky's, making embarrassing sounds as his cunt fluttered open and shut around Bucky's fingers.
After the haze of the last orgasm dissipated, he was still in subspace, warm and light and hovering above the bed by at least a few miles.
"We need to shower, baby," Bucky told him.
Steve allowed himself to be stood up slowly, muscles in his legs twitching from so many orgasms, and Bucky lead him into the shower. He stood under the hot water, limbs limp and hanging like a doll. Bucky washed him up, cooing soft praises on uncomprehending ears.
Steve grinned, eyes heavy lidded and sleepy. "Tired, Daddy," he told him.
"I know, baby boy. Almost done," Bucky promise, shampooing his hair even though he didn't really need to. But it felt nice, strong fingers massaging his scalp.
Without warning- or maybe a warning that Steve hadn't heard- the water turned off, and Steve was surrounded by several warm fluffy towels. He stood statuesque as Bucky patted all of him dry, and then he was lead back to the bedroom. He waited for orders as Bucky changed the sheets on the bed, and once his daddy allowed it, he laid down on bed, cuddled up beside his lover, and fell asleep within seconds.