"Anything?" And oh, that's heady. That's a risk. He could ask for anything his hungry, twisty mind could think up, make Buck grovel like a misbehaving dog, and he'd do it. He can tell. So far past desperate that even talking is too hard for him, hands in his own hair like he's gonna pull it out so he won't break one of the rules he gave him. He remembers he's not meant to touch himself and for that? Steve's proud.

It's not easy on a normal night but when he's doped up, bloodied and...

Fuck he's never thought about painting Bucky's lips up before. He likes the normal flush and give, doesn't want anything waxy on his lips when he bites them but it looks. So. Good.

Some kind of wrong, several shades of obscene and now it's Steve that has to slide a hand down and adjust himself in his slacks. Tucked away because if Buck's bare skin rocks against him when they move on, he'll lose his goddamned mind. "Better."

So goddamn hard to keep that disinterested drawl going when Buck looks like this. Sounds like this. "Remind me- who do you belong to again?"

Buying time more than anything as he works out a cramp in his wrist. When he gets Bucky up here he needs to be able to swing hard, make him really feel it.