Indulgence

Steve had woken up at 5 a.m. every morning since he was seventeen. He didn’t even need an alarm any longer, but it was futile to try to sleep in. No matter what time he went to sleep, his eyes open at 5 nearly on the dot every time.

So when, for the first time in at least fifteen years, Steve opened his eyes to see “6:27” blinking back at him, he nearly thought he was dreaming.

He could feel by the way Bucky’s arm was slung over his shoulder that his lover was still in bed, and most likely asleep because of his breathing pattern. There was an alarm set on the clock for 6:45, when Bucky really needed to get up for work, but by that point Steve usually already had his morning five mile run and shower.

Steve knew that he must have been a beast to take care of last night (he was always annoying when he was drunk, and doubtlessly Bucky would have cared for him without a second thought, one of Steve’s most favourite things about him), so he decided to make Bucky a big breakfast in gratitude. He shut off the alarm before it could go off. It was Saturday, anyway, so Bucky must have forgotten to take it off.

By the time Steve got to the kitchen, he was feeling horribly guilty about the night before. He always ate so much food whenever he was drunk, and judging by the painful cramps in his gut, last night was no exception. He usually stayed away from beer because he was such a lightweight, and the drunker he was, the weaker his inhibitions, and he would return to old habits, years of dedication and discipline gone in a moment. But since he apparently never half-assed anything, he added chocolate chips to the pancakes.

*Not like it would matter. Apparently, if he was making a pig of himself, he might as well eat with purpose. After this mood of regrettably destructive behaviour passed and he was feeling more like himself, he would work out twice as hard and cut his diet back a few notches—both to punish himself and get his system back to normal.

He’d never made pancakes before in his life, and had only eaten them a few times, when his ma would make them for his birthday when he was younger. He wasn’t quite sure how they would turn out, but he was almost as good at following directions as giving them, and the orange text on the box that proudly proclaimed 3 EASY STEPS seemed simple enough.

Steve felt two arms hug him from behind, putting the slightest bit of pressure on his stomach, and it felt nicer than he’d care to admit.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, spinning around and kissing Bucky.

Bucky smiled into the kiss. “No hangover?” he asked as they pulled away.

“Nah. Bit of a headache, nothing serious. I’m making pancakes,” he said in an attempt to change the conversation. *He’d like to pretend that all of last night never happened. Well, if it wasn’t for the voice in his head hissing that he’d probably eaten enough calories for a whole day, racking up numbers like it always did, a brutal four-digit death sentence.

“I see!” Bucky exclaimed, shocked and a little pleased. They almost never ate breakfast together. “Want me to make bacon?”

Steve wasn’t a vegetarian, but he would never dream of going near something as fatty and greasy as bacon. *Still, the cruel voice whispered that since he was being such a slob, adding more calories to the pile hardly mattered. “Sure, why not. I’ll make scrambled eggs, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had finished, and were sitting at their counter on the kitchenette. Steve had five pancakes the size of his plate, four eggs, and six slices of bacon, with two tall glasses of milk. If Bucky was surprised by the sheer amount of food Steve was downing, he didn’t show it.

Steve reminded himself that it was still a hearty breakfast, and, if nothing else, it should give him enough energy to kill a sweet set of reps later at the gym.

After breakfast, he was about to announce his intent to head out, when Bucky gently pushed him on the couch. “You cooked, I’ll clean. Here’s the remote, find something for us to watch.”

Falling into a reclining position made the contents of Steve’s stomach shift uncomfortably. He miserably picked up the remote and began flipping through channels, listening to the sound of Bucky whistling behind him. At that point in the morning, it seemed that nothing but the food network was on. Ugh, like he needed more food. He could swear his stomach felt swollen with everything he ate.

*1580 calories, give or take a hundred, his mind helpfully added.

*He wanted to throw up. Maybe that would help. But Bucky was in the apartment, and he didn’t want to worry him. He suddenly wished that he could have said earlier that he did have a hangover, so he could have an excuse for vomiting.

About fifteen minutes later, when Steve was halfway through some odd chef competition show, Bucky joined him with a bowl of popcorn to snack on. Somehow, it ended up on Steve’s lap, and by the end of the episode, it was empty.

Bucky was paying so much attention to the show that Steve could tell he wasn’t watching at all. When they first started dating, it was almost impossible for Steve to pick up on Bucky’s signals, but once he began understanding them, they were impossible to miss. First of all, it was a commercial for a vacuum cleaner, and the apartment complex they lived at had a maid clean the rooms on Mondays. Secondly, Bucky’s erection was nearly perpendicular to the brunet’s body, sprawled out comfortably on the couch.

Steve chuckled. “Now, baby?” he asked in a tone of incredulity. He didn’t know what managed to turn Bucky on in between waking up, washing the dishes, and now, but he’d missed sex last night, and he intended to take care of his lover for a nice anniversary present.

Bucky snapped his focus away from the television and to Steve as soon as he spoke, and the blond could see him practically squirming in the couch. He whimpered in response.

“Use your words,” Steve reminded him, leaning forward (putting uncomfortable pressure on his midsection, but that was beside the point) and placing his large hand on Bucky’s neck in a subtle sign of control.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back and he tilted his head in submission. “Yes, Steve, please, now. I’ve—“

He was about to go on, but Steve had gotten what he wanted. He pulled Bucky forward into him, crashing their lips together. Whenever they played this game, whenever Steve turned his dominance on like a tap, he could feel that there was some part of Bucky that was being held back, but he wanted it to come out organically. They had certainly talked out every single other aspect of their relationship and how their dynamic was to work in public versus in private that Steve wanted Bucky just say it when he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Gonna fuck me?” Bucky asked, pulling back and biting his lip, sitting on Steve’s lap.

“Know how fucking pretty you look like that?” Steve growled, running his thumb over Bucky’s nipple.

“Don’t change the subject,” Bucky panted, his pupils so large his grey-blue eyes looked midnight with lust.

Steve flipped Bucky over roughly, and pinned him down with a hand at his throat. “I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do. What do you say?”

Bucky shuddered in response and choked out an apology.

It was amazing how this never failed to turn Bucky on. Not that it didn’t turn Steve on… he was happy to play this part if it was what Bucky wanted. He remembered when this sweet, unassuming architect had stolen his heart the first time, how vulnerable his eyes looked when he confessed what he needed Steve to be. Steve accepted this responsibility as carefully as he could. He didn’t want to let Bucky down, almost as much as Bucky didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Louder,” he said, more softly this time.

“Sorry,” Bucky repeated in a hushed whisper.

Steve knelt down over him, and kissed his cheek, always aware of how much power he had, how much power Bucky wanted him to have. He slowly pulled the brunet’s briefs down, marvelling at the perfect curve of his lover’s ass. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, d… yes.”

Please, Bucky, please. Just say it. Steve was almost sure what he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to assume anything. It always needed to be said, with the two of them.

Steve had the condom on and prepped Bucky in record time, needing to feel that intimacy of being inside of him. It was the only time when he felt he knew exactly what the other was thinking, and was sure Bucky’s thoughts matched his own.

 He slid his cock inside Bucky and felt the brunet’s hips snap as he cried out in pleasure.

“More, keep going,” Bucky begged. Usually Steve didn’t go the whole way in in one movement, but he continued on until he was buried to the hilt. The feeling of giving Bucky exactly what he wanted was ecstatic.

Bucky had been lying mostly flat on the couch, but he lifted his ass into the air, and Steve sat up on his knees and braced his arms on Bucky’s hips. Bucky set the rhythm, arching his back and sending a rippling motion through his ass cheeks that made Steve’s precome betray his usually impressive habit of taking his time. But Bucky was so needy this morning, biting his own forearm to muffle the sound as he fucked himself back on Steve’s dick. His pace became frantic as he neared orgasm, and Steve took over. “Shh, it’s okay, Bucky,” he whispered into his ear, holding his hips and moving his member in and out of Bucky’s tight little hole. He was still full from the enormous breakfast (and accidental snack) that he’d consumed, so his range of motion was limited, but Bucky came soon after he took control.

After Bucky climaxed, he took a moment to catch his breath as Steve pulled out, then flipped over. “You didn’t come,” he remarked.

Steve sat back, stretching his legs out, still hard as a rock. “So take care of it.”

Bucky happily occupied himself with blowing Steve, while the blond relaxed and allowed his stomach to settle.

After he came, Bucky swallowing his entire load like a champ, he curled up right around him like a sated cat, resting his hand right above Steve’s belly button.