bakerstreet | Only 3 choices

Color me impressed.

[Smirk meet smirk. They're incredibly close now, legs nearly entwined where they sit. After his knuckles are brushed, Zemo opts to rest his elbow on the bar top and prop his chin in that hand, not taking his eyes off Bucky for a single moment.

His other hand ends up creeping towards Bucky's knee, fingers surprisingly steady as he gives an experimental rub there.]

Mm, please. [A slight nod towards the bottle. He'd love a drink, so much so his hand trails up to Bucky's thigh, clearly pushing his luck here.]

[Success sends a hot thrill through him, almost as much as it does making an impossible shot. Especially because a guy like Zemo would be harder to pull in: the guy has it all. Money and power, which means you had to put in more work to grab his attention.

His own breath catches at the clever hands curling along his knee, but unlike before, he doesn't think about knocking it off. Instead his own stomach goes tight with a dark swoop, dick giving a first hard throb, and under Zemo's touch, he lets his thighs part like a dream, sliding Zemo's hand up along the inseam to rest dangerously close to his fly as Bucky delicately pours them each a glass.

Zemo's first, of course, which Bucky offers him. Bucky's mouth quirks in a faint smirk]

I aim to please.

Edited (typoed a name) 2025-05-26 01:45 (UTC)

[Oh he nearly groans as that hitch of breath reaches his ears. It's confirmation enough that all this playfulness is certainly doing something else for Bucky, and Zemo's smirk grows even more mischievous.]

Keep up the excellent work and I'll see to it you're rewarded handsomely.

[A slight nod of thanks as Zemo picks up his glass, and then he holds it aloft to silently initiate a clink before indulging in that first sip. Still, his other hand is preoccupied, lost between Bucky's thighs, blunt nails grazing against the fabric of his trousers, fingers occasionally grasping and squeezing. His movements are slow, languid, secret and undetectable from any passersby.]

[And that gets a little crack in Bucky's act, eyes widen and growing darker, looking a little shaken, hip doing a sharp jolt upwards into Zemo's touch; just the praise and promise of reward for a mission pulled off perfectly.

Bucky has to bite his lip to try and actually master himself, remember his training. He manages to cover it up gain with that easy air about him like he just happened to run into an old buddy and not the closest thing he's had for a handler, for orders, since Project Insight went down.]

That so?

[and he clinks his own glass with Zemo's like it's a normal toast. His face stills stays smoothed out when Zemo's hand settles between his thighs only to meet with a half hard bulge. He smooths his own hand over Zemo's forearm, rubbing along his knuckles as he leans in like he's sharing a secret, shifting against the touch working him over]

You got no idea, pal. I bet I could be so good for you.

Edited 2025-05-26 05:56 (UTC)

[That’s lovely. Zemo’s gaze darkens, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he presses his palm down hard against Bucky’s crotch. It remains there, beginning to gently rub.]

Mm. [He bites back a chuckle, so smug about his little victory here. Yes, the recovery time was admirable - but he still managed to get under his skin, coaxed what a response out of the other man. And that’s something worth celebrating.]

I’d love to find out. [The wriest smile as he puts his glass to his lips and takes a drink. He savors it, humming softly before speaking again. He might as well be purring like a motor now, the hand on Bucky’s bulge moving in slow circles.]

[His breathing grows rougher as a sure palm grinds down on him, cupping him as Bucky works up against Zemo in tiny little rolls as if seeking for any friction, any pressure he's allowed to have. Bucky's thighs close a little to trap Zemo's wrist there, unable to look anywhere else but Zemo as he watches the other man's throat work as he takes his time savoring his drink.

His dick's starting to ache here, nudged insistently against his fly in a throb under Zemo's hand, but Bucky plays it cool and takes a slow sip of his own, savoring the smoothness as it goes down and the warmth it sets down his throat.

Metal fingers dip below the bar to toy with Zemo's belt buckle, nimbly working the tine free of the hole in a soft clink of metal. Not that he's planning on working him right here at the bar, but it's real tempting if it means Bucky can get more of that praise and direction washing over him. What had started as showing Zemo up ends up morphed into something else.]

I figure a guy like you's got a ritzy place. How about a change of scenery?

[slowly he's got Zemo's belt slid open, cool metal sneaking in to stroke along the skin over his waistband]

Edited (typoed at end) 2025-05-28 05:32 (UTC)

[Each reaction, no matter how small, only motivates him further. Dilated pupils, harsher breathing, the not-so-subtle way those hips begin to move. Zemo's startled by those strong thighs giving his wrist a bit of a squeeze, and he breathlessly chuckles to himself, feeling foolish about it, but quickly recovering and giving Bucky more of that friction he so desperately wants.

He keeps working on his drink, idly swishing around the contents of his glass between sips. Not daring to look away from Bucky's face even as he feels his own belt being toyed with beneath the bar top. Such frisky behavior. In public of all places. Zemo likes that.]

Mm, you figure correctly. [A slow, single nod.] Finish your drink darling and I'll take you wherever you want to go.

[Never mind the way Zemo visibly shivers at the feeling of metal against his bare skin dear god. If he wasn't hard in his trousers before...]

[Here he thought he wasn't getting it up anytime soon - especially when it seemed a chore these days, like his heart wasn't in it. But all it takes is Zemo's hand working him over under the bar with sure hands, like he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. No pussy-footing around. Turns out that's all Bucky needs for the serum to get his motor running fast, because it doesn't take much for the blood to race to his cock.

His own fingers brush up against Zemo's shirt, his palm sliding up against his stomach in a shock of cool metal before skating back down to dip teasingly past his underwear's waistband just to feel the shiver go through him. But he doesn't slide his touch down further. Not yet. Not here.

Bucky swallows hard, eyes growing darker with arousal at the pet name. Something he'd never allow earlier, but it runs different under this game they're playing. In reply, Bucky knocks back his shot in a smooth swallow; helps since he can't get drunk so fast these days, but he's suddenly too impatient to wait.]

That a promise? I mean, I'm expecting the Ritz here.

[The more he's touched, the more he begins to unravel. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep himself in check, to stop his back from arching and his body from unconsciously leaning in for more of that lovely contact. Zemo downright squirms on the bar stool, letting out a shaky huff of aroused annoyance. His foot slips from the rung it's been resting on, and he nearly topples over.]

The Ritz? [He scoffs, looking almost offended. How dare.] I can do much better than that.

[He finishes his drink, setting the empty glass down on the bar perhaps a bit too loudly. And he doesn't bother fixing himself up - let his belt remain unbuckled, his coat can hide the fact quite easily.]

Come along. [Bold as ever, he grabs hold of Bucky's hand, tugging him to come down from his stool and walk with him.]

[ooc: going to change to prose on my end if that's cool]

Maybe Bucky kind of likes the idea of making a guy like Zemo finally squirm, and all without actually touching him yet; just plenty of teases everywhere but the bulge starting to throb against his fly. Some targets might be into that. But that seems much too easy for Zemo. Too direct. With a powerful man like Zemo, you wanted to tease, keep it just out of reach. Make him want what he doesn't have. And judging how even Zemo's starting to fidget in his seat, it's working perfectly.

"You're gonna do better than the Ritz? Come on, it's the classiest joint I know!" Bucky snorts.

He probably has been somewhere nicer at this point, but a lot of missions blend together after awhile. Bucky lets his gaze linger on just how...messy Zemo already looks. He'd never go out like this, belt unbuckled, shirt rumpled up along his hip even if the coat'll hide it.

Bucky grins, dazzling and bright as he lets himself get tugged off, trotting obediently after Zemo until they slide into the fancy car of his waiting around the corner. Bucky whistles as he slips into the seat, as if he hadn't reluctantly ridden in the same car getting here. The old him would've been impressed. And men with money like nothing more than showing it off.

Now Bucky settles into a lazy sprawl, knee touching Zemo's as he makes himself more comfortable than he had getting here.

"Real nice car you got. Private driver and everything." And a privacy screen, Bucky notices, eyeing it meaningfully.

Edited 2025-05-30 03:06 (UTC)

[ooc: no it's not.

jk. 😉]

Whether Bucky has realized it or not, he's discovered the baron's weakness, the one thing guaranteed to dissolve him into a puddle of useless nothingness while tightening his trousers to levels of dangerous discomfort simultaneously. Zemo is full of lust but, more importantly, he is full of yearning. And being mercilessly teased by the object of his unhealthy obsession, no matter the context, is the worst sort of fuel for any fire.

Nothing else matters but those beautiful blue eyes, that cocky and oh so confident attitude, every touch no matter how slight, the feeling of cool metal against burning hot skin. Who cares about a messy appearance when all the baron wants is to be messed up even more, taken apart piece by piece until there's truly nothing left but the blinding whiteness of pleasure.

He pulls Bucky into the car with him, slipping his coat from his shoulders nearly as soon as he slides across the backseat. It's left abandoned in a pool smooshed against the door on the opposite side. There's no need for it when he's already feeling quite overheated.

Their knees bump, and Zemo leans into it without hesitation, leans closer to Bucky and reaches out to grab hold of him by the front of his shirt. Unable to look away, he continues to stare straight ahead with heavy-hooded eyes, blindly groping around for the button that will put the privacy screen up and leave them to it.

"It's not even my favorite one," he comments offhandedly before reluctantly turning his head and calling up to the front before the panel is shut completely. "To the Aman, please. Take your time."

Because there's no way he isn't going to get what he wants before they pull up outside the lobby. Not when he's this worked up.

His full attention is back on Bucky and he's practically pulling himself into the other man's lap, determined to go in for a kiss. So pathetic and desperate for it by this point. Please don't make him beg.

Bucky can't even imagine owning more than one car. Back home, his family could only afford the one. And the collection Bucky saw earlier probably was only a small fraction of what Zemo owns. But he can see why it's Zemo's favorite. It's roomy, posh, expensive looking without looking gaudy.

How often has Zemo done this in one of his cars? The driver doesn't seem all that surprised, just seems to get the message with the kind of cool professionalism that says, yeah, maybe this used to happen a lot. Bucky keeps himself in an easy sprawl until the privacy panel slides up with a click, while he lets his eyes just drop down to Zemo's mouth and shamelessly stay there like he's imagining how it'll taste. Lets him feel the heat between them.

Normally, if this had been a real mission as the Soldier, he would've cozied up to his target by now. Maybe take his time spreading the the man's fly open with gloved hands, before bending over his lap, long hair brushing against slacks as he lathed kitten licks along the shaft he'd draw out, to tease the target until he was straining and nearly out of his mind before the car stopped. People got stupid, got careless when they were riled up that bad. Funny how much of your brain gets sucked right down to your dick.

So he's not expecting Zemo to get impatient. Bucky grunts, a flush going down his face as Zemo practically crawls over him, greedily dragging into a kiss that's half-bruising and so hot that Bucky moans into it, eyes fluttering closed as he works Zemo's fly open, metal fingers dipping inside to knead gently at him as he parts his lips to welcome Zemo in.

The baron's assets are stashed all over the world at this point. The wealth that hasn't been seized by various governments safely tucked away in case of emergencies - or... whatever this little rendezvous happens to be. It's not an ideal way to live, but it's proven its usefulness time and time again. Zemo always has a place to go, always has resources available with a simple text or call.

It's been a long time since he's engaged in such intimate activities with anyone. He's what most would refer to as touch-starved, the years in prison only adding to the condition. And being on the receiving end of Bucky's little demonstration is driving him wild.

He ends up straddling Bucky's lap with a fluid motion, not leaving room for protest or much of anything else. He's seated properly, his thighs firmly locking the other man in place where he sits, the material of Bucky's top still twisted in his fist.

That moan sends shivers of delight through him, and he sighs against those lips, daring to suckle at Bucky's lower one just to be a tease. His hips jolt a moment later, and Zemo has to hold back a whine as metal meets flesh once again. Their kiss swallows up any other noises he starts to make - more pathetic than the last, really - his tongue probing deep and seeking to mingle. He's downright shuddering now, so hot and hard against that palm, unable to stop himself from rocking a little into the touch.

When he finally comes up for air, his lips are swollen and he's oh so breathless, face flushed from all the exertion. Zemo's gaze flicks upward, their mouths still pressed flush. There's no way he's pulling back, not even for the briefest moment. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" he murmurs. "Simply perfect..."

The shirt digs into Bucky's muscles when Zemo drags at it, like he's thinking of tearing it off before they even get somewhere actually decent. Or maybe if he has it his way, grinding out an orgasm for them both right on his lap. You'd think a guy like Zemo would have some patience, but it turns out even that has its limits. Bucky just rolls his hips up in a lazy roll, like he's in no hurry, savoring the friction he never allowed himself outside of this. If this was a true mission, he'd take his time. Drag it out, make the target go stupid with want.

Interest makes his belly go tight and his dick strain against his fly as he rocks against Zemo, welcoming the slick press and slide of Zemo's tongue as he sucks on it with a soft moan, losing himself in the feel and taste of the other man's mouth and the heady desire each touch drags out of him.

It's easier for some reason. Bucky had given dating a try: it felt weird in person when everyone's so normal, even weirder on the apps, which are somehow worse than newspaper adverts back in the 40s. He'd given up after awhile. Maybe it's because Zemo's already seen him at his worst, and he doesn't have to try to act like a full person in front of him. It helps when Zemo's bar is low: just don't be the kind of super soldier he hates. He's probably the only one out of the lot that didn't even want the serum.

Bucky strokes him carefully, in no real hurry, meant to give just enough pressure and friction to get him hard, but not enough to drag him to the finish line anytime soon.

A pretty flush sits on Bucky's face as he admires the way Zemo's mouth looks swollen, his own looking tender and pink. Bucky's mouth quirks; it's not the first time he's heard it. If this was a mission, it'd wash right over him. Just another sign he was maneuvering the target where he wanted him. But now it sends a thrill of pleasure through Bucky.

A cool thumb strokes over the slit in the blunt head of Zemo's cock, as Bucky looks up at him through dark eyelashes; the kind of look that's always brought men to their knees, now Bucky aims it at him like a weapon. "Bet you say that to all the fellas. You're a real dish yourself. The full package and then some."

Between all the crawling and clawing - yes, Zemo's being grossly impatient. He'll be sure to apologize for such rude behavior once he's back in his right mind - but he won't shy away from paying compliments where they're due. A generous amount bordering on the obnoxious.

He's already gone stupid, the flirting and touching at the bar making his head swim. But now that they're alone in his car, he doesn't feel the need to restrain himself. He's focused on his desires, on whatever this is, and keeps tugging on Bucky's shirt and whimpering into heated kisses while his hips go wild.

Bucky knows what he's done, has every right to despise the man straddling his lap. But he doesn't. He's tolerating Zemo at the very least, allowing him to do this. Humoring him. And he's even responding in kind. The baron can feel him harden in his jeans as they grind together in the backseat like a pair of teenagers. It can't be genuine, right? No matter how badly Zemo wants it to be.

Is he leaking already? Yes. It's embarrassing. The cool metal of Bucky's hand, just the mere concept of being touched by such a powerful prosthetic - it's overstimulating in the best way possible. His lips part and a soft gasp hitches in his throat, his hips bucking hard against that hand as he's teased.

"No." He swallows, giving the slightest shake of his head. "Just you." And he dares to let his guard down, the dumbest smile spreading across his lips as he's caught up in the other man's sultry gaze. Amidst the arousal impairing his judgement there is a certain truth to what he says and it hangs heavy.

If this were a real mission and Zemo a target, he would've been so easy to take out right now, Bucky thinks. Sometimes he can't help it. Doesn't matter how much therapy he's had. Sometimes he just can't help slipping back into looking at the world couched in missions and parameters and HYDRA's framework. And Zemo would be a very easy target now. He's so eager that it's messing with common sense, makes him think entirely with his dick. With the other men, it took longer, more work to get them to that point.

Bucky goes with it; let's his shirt get stripped off in a long arc of muscle in his lean body. Turns out when HYDRA doesn't have him, Bucky just doesn't take care of himself as much as they did, which means he's no longer built like a tank but something more feline and dark grace as he takes Zemo's full weight.

Maybe if he weren't so screwed up, Bucky'd have the common sense left to hate Zemo. Easy for Zemo to say it wasn't personal, but when Bucky's life got upended, nearly killed multiple times. It's personal. It should feel personal and he shouldn't want Zemo's touch on him. But here he is, half-hard from Zemo's touch working over him and chasing after his mouth, swallowing up the filthy sounds he makes with a hot slide of his tongue against his as he carefully pumps his cock, a metal thumb rubbing the clear fluid all over the rosy head.

Every other time he tried to make time with someone, it felt like a chore. Like he was going through the motions. But Zemo for some reason makes him feel so alive that Bucky's latching on with both hands.

"How can I believe half of what you say?" Bucky husks against his mouth.

If this were a real mission? It would be a wonderful way to go - all hot and disheveled in such a beautiful man's lap. Much more preferable to being caught out on the battlefield or in the middle of some chaotic underground firefight.

Before he knows it, he's casually tossing Bucky's shirt behind his own head so it can join his abandoned coat in a rumpled mess. And his hands run up the other man's bare torso, fingertips tracing over the defined muscles along the way. There's a difference, yes, from the first time they met. Bucky's not as bulky anymore, nor is his physique barely contained inside his clothes. But he's still a gorgeous specimen, perhaps even more so now. By comparison, the baron's almost all soft from too many years of imprisonment, all scarred up from various near-death experiences. And there's something breathtaking about that, he thinks to himself, once his hands have made it up to Bucky's broad chest.

"You don't have to believe any of it," he replies with the softest puff of air. "I can't force you to do that." His hands are slipping up and cupping Bucky's face now, holding him still between kisses. "But I'm sure I could convince you somehow?"

That last part comes out as a question, and there's that look again - the one that screams mischief - accompanied by a nip to Bucky's lower lip. Zemo keeps wriggling and squirming in the other man's lap, but steels himself the best he can. He can't be pushed over the edge this quickly. Not when there's so much fun to be had and so much convincing to be done.

The kisses stray from Bucky's lips to his jaw, and then they trail further downward. Zemo's mouth lingers at times, his teeth nipping at the other man's pulse point, the crook of his neck. He lavishes Bucky with attention and heated, open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

The driver doesn't skimp on the AC. It doesn't take long at all for Bucky's nipples to pebble in the cool air and under Zemo's roving touch. The guy doesn't paw at him like some of the other men, clumsy or too rough, but instead - Bucky's breath hitches, dick throbbing in his fly- as clever hands feel out the play of lean muscle like it's as valuable as any sculpture in a museum. Something to be treasured, admired.

Metal fingers brush against Zemo's skin as he helps him out of his shirt, letting the cool kiss of vibranium skim against his sternum as Bucky takes him in, his palm skidding down a path of scars that speaks of Zemo's time in black ops. Prison's made Zemo soft, or maybe he spent all that time plotting and not pressing weights to pass the time: knowing Zemo, it's option one. He's no slouch in field work but Zemo's best weapon is his mind.

All it takes is Zemo speaking. Bucky's attention drags back to him: can't help himself no matter where they are or who's around them. When Zemo speaks, he commands the room.

"I heard you're very convincing when you want to be," Bucky's eyes slip half closed, face tilted up towards Zemo and grey eyes gone dark with arousal, dick twitching when Zemo nips at his lower lip. He sucks it between his teeth and top lip as if to chase after the phantom ache of teeth, rocking up against Zemo as if he means to rut against him the entire ride or until Zemo loses it as he pumps at him like he's got all the time in the world. Whichever comes first.

Bucky tilts his head to the side with a uneven, ragged moan as Zemo's mouth works its way down towards his jaw, the graze of teeth urging Bucky's hips up in a jolt and hard grind that leaves him breathless.

Zemo's hesitant, showing the faintest hint of resistance as the other man pulls at his light sweater. But he’s lulled by the cool, smooth touch of metal that hits his skin, dissolving into visible shivers, biting back the softest moan - and he untangles himself from Bucky just long enough to shuck his shirt and carelessly add it to the clothing pile.

Squirming some more, Zemo nearly loses his balance entirely as he finds himself arching into that shudder-inducing touch. Breath hitches, a throaty little moan slipping past his lips. Putting his hands on Bucky's face and holding him like that - it serves a double purpose. The baron can ground himself easily, get his lustful panting under control, focus on something else that isn't the way they keep rutting against each other.

He makes a soft humming noise, idly brushing a thumb along Bucky's cheekbone, quite enjoying the view of his soldier moving beneath him like that. Slow and steady, he mustn't rush despite his underlying impatience.

“If you’re good..." Zemo begins, the statement trailing off along with his kisses. "I can show you. You can learn firsthand.” He punctuates almost every word with another press of lips to skin, peppering in a gentle nibble for flavor. Fingertips ghost down Bucky's front as hands head towards his belt, sure to stop and tease a rigid nipple just because.

"How does that sound, hm?" His gaze shifts and he peers up at Bucky, pupils blown.

He honestly can't remember the last time he was this turned on and actually present for it. One thing to perform for a mission and do whatever it took to accomplish it, another to be hungry for the next touch. Now Bucky's entire world practically narrows down on the man on his lap, holding his face tilted to look at him and only him, with the grey turned so dark with arousal as he tilts his face into the thumb caressing along a cheek gone flushed.

Bucky drags Zemo's fly open more, a warm hand settling between them to pump at Zemo's cock while he squirms under him when those hands work their way towards his belt; only Bucky rocks up a little hard as they circle a nipple, teasing it, before continuing downwards to where Bucky's dick's already straining a thick line between them. Between them, it's easy to feel the way his cock lurches when Zemo lays the parameters out.

Now Bucky nods eagerly, working Zemo in long strokes that culminate with a thumb circling along the rosy head, pressing up with a sharp gasp into the kisses as if he'd been starved of them.

"Sounds perfect," Bucky pants out. He barely remembers he's supposed to be putting up that front. "Like a real gas."

Only 3 choices

"appreciate" the "finer" things

Zemo's got a skill and taste for it

😏

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Zemo being too good for the Ritz, excuse you, that's what Bucky thinks would be top tier back then

well he's sorely mistaken!!

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