[ He can't help the shiver of pleasure it gives him when Steve's fingers card absently through his hair, the way they have other times when Bucky is naked on his knees, warming Steve's cock with his mouth as he attends to something else--a phone call, a meal, a report. He never feels quite so kept as he does in moments like that. He nuzzles Steve's cock with his lips, his mouth watering in an almost Pavlovian reaction, his own dick starting to ache, starting to harden in his pants. He likes those times when Steve treats him as his plaything, an object for his pleasure, but he likes this, too, the gentle intimacy between them, being trusted with Steve's cares and his secrets. ]

And you're thinking that if you had taken charge that never would have happened. [ Bucky suggests, easing open the buckle of Steve's belt, unfastening his trousers. ] But you can't be everywhere at once. [ He draws Steve's cock out to the open air, still mostly soft but harder than it was a few moments ago. Bucky presses his lips to the head, closing his eyes, and takes it a little into his mouth, sucking gently. His eyes lift up to Steve's face as he pulls free after a few moments, letting the spit-slicked crown tap against his chin. ] You'll fix it tomorrow. You'll make some calls, go see them in person if you have to.

[ He ducks his head for a moment to press his mouth to Steve's hip in a soft kiss. It's a strange feeling, this sudden shyness, especially for a whore. ] I'll come with you, if you want.