[ He can feel himself burning all over by the time he removes the last piece of clothing, already half-hard with the humiliation of it, the sensation of being utterly owned. Bucky's performed in front of others before, accompanied someone to a party or club where he was meant to be groped and showed off, but never like this, with a magnificent collar fastened around his throat and the eyes of the richest men and women in Europe taking him in with unabashed jealousy, envying Steve his beautiful whore. Never with Steve wrapping his warm hand around him as though declaring his claim, so that Bucky gasps and jerks into his touch and leans back trembling against him, wanting. He can feel his cock filling out with every moment that passes, the weight of diamonds heavy around his throat and Steve's firm hand so beloved.
Bucky shuts his eyes for a moment and then opens them again as Steve moves away, relief flooding him when he gestures for him to follow, even if he is to do it on his knees. He sinks down, legs shaking, face flushed hot with shame as he feels all those watching eyes at his back, as he crawls to Steve's side; he's sitting with his business partners, men Bucky has met before, shaken hands and talked with over drinks or in the midst of a glittering gala. They're looking at him too, admiring him. Seeing him as he truly is, as Steve's prized possession.
He lays his head against Steve's thigh and doesn't try to hide himself. Beneath the seething tangle of pleasure and humiliation there is pride, too, because he belongs to Steve, because Steve Rogers is a better man than any who have ever set foot in this room. Bucky knows it; Bucky would do injury to any man who dared to deny it. He loves him beyond anything, beyond his pride, beyond his own life, beyond everything he gave up to cross an ocean with Steve and be with him always.
Bucky turns and nuzzles into his lap, slowly, with soft, hot lips. Let them all watch, let them see how much he loves his master. ]
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Bucky shuts his eyes for a moment and then opens them again as Steve moves away, relief flooding him when he gestures for him to follow, even if he is to do it on his knees. He sinks down, legs shaking, face flushed hot with shame as he feels all those watching eyes at his back, as he crawls to Steve's side; he's sitting with his business partners, men Bucky has met before, shaken hands and talked with over drinks or in the midst of a glittering gala. They're looking at him too, admiring him. Seeing him as he truly is, as Steve's prized possession.
He lays his head against Steve's thigh and doesn't try to hide himself. Beneath the seething tangle of pleasure and humiliation there is pride, too, because he belongs to Steve, because Steve Rogers is a better man than any who have ever set foot in this room. Bucky knows it; Bucky would do injury to any man who dared to deny it. He loves him beyond anything, beyond his pride, beyond his own life, beyond everything he gave up to cross an ocean with Steve and be with him always.
Bucky turns and nuzzles into his lap, slowly, with soft, hot lips. Let them all watch, let them see how much he loves his master. ]