[ It's far easier to tuck his flushed face into Steve's lap than to try to meet the gaze of his business partners that keep sliding covetously towards him even as they carry on low conversation, or to let himself be aware of all the rest of the club around them, how eyes keep straying towards their table, men and women who could buy anything they desired in the world envying Steve his beautiful whore. They couldn't buy him. There isn't another man in the world that Bucky would give what he's given Steve: his heart, his very life and all rights to his body. And Steve would never share him, he's sure of that. The others can look, but they can't touch.
Steve tugs him closer so that he can feel the swell of his cock under the silky fabric of his pants, and Bucky obediently nuzzles against it, pressing soft, slow, hot kisses, tracing the shape of it with his lips. He's breathing in Steve's scent, the erotic musk of his arousal, his desire, and his entire body is trembling, eager for a taste. A part of him can't believe what he's doing, can't believe that he's naked on his knees with his face pressed into his lover's lap, a collar of glittering jewels clasped around his throat: as clearly a pet and a prize as any marking could make him, belonging utterly to Steve. Shame burns in his skin, stings his closed eyes, and under the humiliation there is such abject wanting, to be used, to exist only for Steve's pleasure.
Finally he reaches to undo Steve's belt with fingers that tremble slightly, needing no prompting. He knows exactly what's expected of him, his lips parting around the silky, broad head of Steve's cock as soon as he tugs it free of his trousers, his mouth sinking down on it, the heavy, delicious shaft filling him up, pressing down on his tongue. Someone's envious sigh isn't lost in his ears--look at him, Steve's beautiful whore, willing and eager for his master's pleasure. ]
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Steve tugs him closer so that he can feel the swell of his cock under the silky fabric of his pants, and Bucky obediently nuzzles against it, pressing soft, slow, hot kisses, tracing the shape of it with his lips. He's breathing in Steve's scent, the erotic musk of his arousal, his desire, and his entire body is trembling, eager for a taste. A part of him can't believe what he's doing, can't believe that he's naked on his knees with his face pressed into his lover's lap, a collar of glittering jewels clasped around his throat: as clearly a pet and a prize as any marking could make him, belonging utterly to Steve. Shame burns in his skin, stings his closed eyes, and under the humiliation there is such abject wanting, to be used, to exist only for Steve's pleasure.
Finally he reaches to undo Steve's belt with fingers that tremble slightly, needing no prompting. He knows exactly what's expected of him, his lips parting around the silky, broad head of Steve's cock as soon as he tugs it free of his trousers, his mouth sinking down on it, the heavy, delicious shaft filling him up, pressing down on his tongue. Someone's envious sigh isn't lost in his ears--look at him, Steve's beautiful whore, willing and eager for his master's pleasure. ]