Entry tags:

Yes, Master~

Consensual Control

Content Warning: Dubcon

Sex is fun. Sometimes, sex involves power dynamics. The master and the servant. The dom and the sub. Or, perhaps, something stranger. This is a meme for characters exploring the space defined by these power dynamics, without either party being forced into it against their will. It's a game, and the only winners are the ones who have a good time.

Of course, this being an RP meme, we can get a little surreal with it, too.

BDSM Rules. No outside enforcement of the dynamic; you just both agree to the rules. The safest version of this, because if you don't like what happens, you can just stop. For added fun, bring some costumes and role playing into it.
That's an Order. One of you is high enough status that the other can't freely disobey their orders. They wouldn't use that power against you, of course... but what if you asked them to?
Winner takes all. Like the first one, but with a PVP element. Have a fight, or a gamble, and wager yourself on the outcome. To the winner go the spoils, to do with as they please.
Hypnosis. Have you ever wanted to get hypnotized into being someone's sex toy? Now you can. Hypnosis is super real, and it puts you into a sort of trance that your partner can use to control you every thought.
Super Aphrodisiac. If you drink this, you'll be so overcome with lust that you won't be able to control yourself. What happens after that is out of your hands. Bottoms up.
Body control. The result of some kind of hypertech or magic ritual. For a fixed period of time, if your new master gives an order, your body will follow it automatically, with or without your permission. Depending on the version, they may even be able to control your sensitivity, or make you climax with a word.
Use your imagination. Got an idea along the theme that isn't on the list? Make up your own hook! I'm not your daddy.

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"You tell'n me you got no more self control than an animal, Buck?" The eyeroll is audible, nails digging into Bucky's scalp enough to make his displeasure plain. "We both know that's a load of bull. First you act out, now you lie to me about it?"

There's no warning for the next slap either, a light backhand, casual and dismissive as anything. It takes work to push back against Bucky's grip, to sit down enough that he can't get to his cock at all, perched only somewhat awkwardly against his abdomen. Further back and he'd get poked by his dripping cock. Further forward and his skinny frame would get in the way of Bucky's well earned punishment.

"Just can't help yourself? Just can't help yourself. Guess I gotta teach you better. Been too soft on you, clearly-" So he gets mean with it. Digs in his nails and scrapes down Bucks' collars to his ribs, right over his chest and back up. Slaps his tits afterward just to see them start looking red, perky and painful. "Keep up like this and I should put you over my knee, how's that sound? Should give you a few solid whacks until you learn to apologize when you fuck up instead of trying to lie to cover your ass."

Steve would be lying if he pretended it wasn't some kind of power trip, getting to do this. To be this mean, this cruel, and watch how Bucky's cock twitches to hear it. That he gets to be a big ole bastard and Buck gets his rocks off on being treated like he's noth'n more than an inconvenience. He's damn glad he scooted away from Buck's panting lips- if he was still close he'd have rocked right in and shot off way too soon- which would probably make Buck shoot off, but also make him too goddamn smug for his own good.

"Well, yeah, it kinda feels like it right no-!" Bucky starts. Whatever that fella slipped into his drink's just about destroyed most of his common sense, and rendered everything that might end in blowing a load really sounds like a great idea. Bucky hadn't thought of anything past two seconds of getting Steve's dick a little deeper or trying to cozy up to him for more.

He only gets halfway through that sentence when the next slap comes out of nowhere. Bucky yelps with surprise. It doesn't knock his face to the side like the first one; it's lighter, easy, but also so much like an afterthought that humiliation clenches tight in his chest. Like he'd been dismissed. Or not worth something harder. Imagine expecting a punch in a bar brawl and you only get a slap, like a doll hitting you. The sound he makes is a filthy one, fingers clenching on air when Steve suddenly pulls back. Where?

Steve's weight settles a little on Bucky's stomach and ribs, making the next breaths coming a little shorter. Even though they're starting to play rougher, Bucky still feels around and settles his hands on Steve's waist just to help steady him so he doesn't happen to pitch off.

Clear liquid beads up from the the head of his cock as Steve's disappointment washes over him, and - Bucky arches with a guttural, long, ragged moan as blunt nails drag up red welts down his chest, sure to leave marks throbbing under his shirt even when he goes to work next. Bucky jerks under Steve, squirming on the toy as Steve's palm comes down on his pecs, nipples pebbled and chest looking flushed - even has fingerprints left behind in places.

Bucky throws his head back on the cushion, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps for air. He might lose it if Steve puts him over his knee, but at the same time, just the image of it leaves him leaking. And he takes a gamble. "I don't know, if that last one is what you'd call a slap, I might not learn anytime soon. Should talk to the owner, he's got a breeze coming through here."

"You're such a brat. Why am I even bothering?" Steve has to consider his next steps carefully- balance isn't always his friend, neither is leverage and force, but Buck's got him steady enough. He's not gonna fall off the sofa without a fight and that curls something warm and sweet around his chest as much as every whimper, moan, and thrash hooks around his cock like a hand and squeezes.

Their balance is precarious, but he might be able to use that to his advantage. And that'd get him good and pathetic, getting kicked off the furniture like a misbehaving hound. If Buck didn't like this half so much he wouldn't dare. If it was any other dandy under him they'd have a talk about what was too much and what hit just right- but he and Buck have been wrestling and play fighting since they were in short pants. There's a decade of knowing he can pull from to make sure the lines he crosses are lines that are good to cross. It means pushing farther than he usually does, harder, meaner, and it feels a twinge of remorse as he pulls himself up enough to plant his shoe against Bucky's hip and shove.

The effort makes him wheeze, but it'll be worth it to roll his bratty ass right off the cushions and onto the floor. Oughta jolt his body around that toy good, give him that same stinging dismissal some small part of him craves.

No idea why that is and Steve doesn't know how to talk about it, can't even begin to ask. But they've got distance. He can breathe. Lock in. Spread his legs wide and lounge on the sofa like a king on his throne and nudge at Bucky's balls with the toe of his shoe. Doesn't kick or stomp, just gives them a little prod. "You can come up here when you say you're sorry. I'm not touch'n you till then."

Suffer the consequences of your greed, Barnes.

The second the sentence leaves his mouth, Bucky belatedly wonders if he went too far. He never gave Steve shit for being weaker than the average bird. And Bucky didn't really mean it either. Steve's first two slaps were hard enough to leave Bucky's cheeks stinging, the last one hitting Bucky in a different way deep down that he doesn't know why it makes him ache. Makes him want more.

Hand starting to lift towards the blindfold. Bucky opens his mouth to maybe say something - maybe, put a pause on the game, apologize for real to Steve. That was a low blow, he didn't mean it.

Bucky doesn't get further. Steve suddenly shifts, and Bucky's taken completely by surprise when Steve's shoes - always a size or two too big - shoves him right off the couch. With startled curse, Bucky crashes into the floor with a grunt that chokes off into a broken keen as the toy inside him's jostle and shifts; ends up biting his tongue as his jaw knocks against the ground, the tang of iron on his tongue making him somehow even harder. Bucky lies there at first in a stunned pile.

Kicked off like he wasn't worth anything but the floor. Bucky's eyes squeeze shut at the stab of lust the rakes through him, and limbs shaking, he pulls himself up to kneel at Steve's feet. Or where it might be, he can't tell. A sheen of sweat all over the muscles in his back capture the light and trail down to his ass, which jumps when Steve's shoe nudges up against his balls hanging heavy between sleek thighs. God, he wants to roll his hips back, drag the plug against his shoe.

He ducks his head, fingers sinking into his hair and pulling like he needs the pain in his scalp if Steve won't give it to him. "How am I'm supposed to make you believe me?"

Edited (missing word) 2025-06-02 07:21 (UTC)

It might be too much. A hair too far, for a second he thinks he sees genuine distress in the crease of Bucky's brow, the purse of his lips and that's never the goal. He wants this to be fun, to be hot, to be a fantasy. A world where Steve's got all the power he could ever want and Bucky has to do what he says the way he says it and nobody will think twice. No one will judge. That's what this club has become for him and if it's not working-

But then he whines just right, gasps and stumbles and oh he's something perfect. Even this rough he still wants more.

Spreads his thighs in open invitation, trembling through every breath and graceful, graceless shift of his muscles. Every bruise and scrape an angry red against his skin and again, his hands itch for his pencils.

This'll brand in his memory for later. He's got so much to work with, he's gonna need to do an eight pager just for this, for them. "You gonna apologize or are you gonna kneel there and whine like the pathetic whore you are? Cuz you still haven't said sorry. It's not hard to follow rules, Buck. I don't give you many. Don't I treat you nice? Give you the attention you want? And you still gotta act out."

His foot bounces idly, light little tap, tap, tap's against the heavy weight of Bucky's balls, nowhere near hard enough to sting, just to bring his attention to all the stimulation he's not getting. That he won't get till he says he's sorry.

"Apologize and beg for forgiveness. Then I'll think about lett'n you up."

Thank God, Bucky thinks with what little brain cells he's got that the drug hasn't stolen. I didn't ruin things, hurt his feelings with that stupid crack.

Bucky ducks his head, broad shoulders hunching like he needs to brace himself against the harsh truth spilling out of Steve. Steve's right. He didn't even give him that many rules today. And yet Bucky keeps pushing, sometimes when he doesn't entirely mean to, because he always wants more. Practically starves for it. He can't get this with anyone else - well, maybe he could get something close, but he doesn't trust anyone as much as Steve. He'd never ask this of a dame. And even if another fella wanted to, it's really not the same.

The sofa creaks under Steve: Bucky can imagine him sprawled out, all scrawny limbs and suspenders hanging from his hips that Bucky kind of wants to snap on his chest just to watch the red mark bloom. He might look lazy but so sure of his power that he doesn't need to lift a finger or act up in a room to get everyone's attention.

He huddles there, flinching as Steve's foot taps against his swollen balls. A threat or a promise or something inbetween. He can't tell. And it's all the touch he's getting. Bucky can't help nudging back against the next one, sending the tip of Steve's shoe skidding further up against him for a moment.

Bucky presses his mouth in a thin line, a smear of blood staining it like lipstick Bucky's dick juts out angrily from his crotch, flushed an angry red and drooling as Bucky struggles with what to say. Or remember the English language when he can barely think of anything but his aching cock, Steve settled out of reach behind him, and the delicious aches and pains his nails left on him.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to be good for you, but I fuck up sometimes," Bucky drags out. His knuckles have gone white with how hard his grip is in his own hair as he fights the urge to jerk himself off. "I'm sorry, so goddamn sorry. I'll do anything, just forgive me. Please. I'll do anything."

"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.

Bucky nods furiously. Yes, yes, anything.

Maybe tonight he would've ended up giving a blank check to anyone else who caught him once the drug really set in. But with Steve, he actually, honest-to-God means it.

When Steve's approval skims over him, the stressed lines in Bucky's spine and shoulders eases up as he droops a little, curled up on the floor like that's where he belongs if he's just no good for Steve. Steve's marks litter Bucky's body like he's collecting souvenirs, but there's also something that looks suspiciously like a forming bruise of that other man's broad hand where he'd squeezed Bucky's ass too hard, sitting right next to the toy still buried inside Bucky's hole.

Something in Bucky perks up though. Steve's going a little easier, giving him another chance. Bucky's knuckles crack as he gentles the grip on his hair, and just… lets his head droop, forehead resting on the floor as the tentative hope blooms in his chest. It's the easiest damn question in the world.

"You," Bucky groans against the floor. A trail of sweat rolls down his thigh, glistening in the warm light. He clenches his fists, even blinded, he can feel the heady weight of Steve's gaze anchored on him. "I belong to you. No one else. Just you."

"That's right. Just me. But you still have someone else's marks on you." Letting his voice scrape low, letting some genuine heat and irritation, some anger that a fella got so fresh with Buck, cheated to do so, and marked up what was his brings a dangerous rumble. Black kinda bitter, the first edge before he pitches into a new fight.

No one to swing for right now though. Just Bucky, kneeling and perfect and pathetic at his feet.

"...go on and turn 'round, lemme see your face." He wants to see exactly how miserable and sorry Buck is. Doesn't want to see that deepening bruise of a stranger's hand on his property (definitely need to get Buck a collar if they keep coming here), just the perfect panting picture of Bucky's lips, the furrow between his brows, every scrape and welt he's put on him.

That'll make it easier to plan where he'll put the next set.

Once Bucky's facing him his shoe lifts, nudging under his chin carefully, tipping his face up. "Tell me again. Who do you belong to?" Just to make it stick.

Steve's actually pissed off under there, the heat of it raking along Bucky's spine, and he presses his forehead harder against the floor in response. And who's fault was that? Far as Bucky sees it? It's all his. It boiled down to Bucky just having to play games trying to get Steve green. They wouldn't be in this mess If he hadn't been fucking around and joined Steve right away.

Steve's right. He's got a lot of making up to do.

Bucky turns in place, taking care not to lift his head higher than Steve's knees. Even with Steve's tie covering his eyes, Bucky really does look sorry, eyebrows drawn together, face warm with a flush spreading down to his collarbones, and the smirk that always seems to hover at the edges isn't anywhere to be found. Steve's nail marks and pinches stand out in stark relief against his skin like cross country roadmaps: he doesn't look anything like the man who'd swanned into the club earlier.

Although he could knock Steve over any day of the week, now Bucky somehow looks a lot like he's trying to make himself look smaller and still, even though it looks like his dick's killing him here.

Bucky makes a brittle sound when Steve tips his face up with just the tip of his shoe. Like he's not worth anything else until Steve decides they're golden. His teeth sink into a lower lip made cherry-red on one side. "You, Steve. It's always gonna be you."

"Who decides if you get to come?" He leans forward, hand combing through Buck'y hair honey sweet before knitting at his nape and urging his face up. There's a black, ugly hunger in him that's growing- wants to see Bucky sob. Weeping and breathless, wants to see him ruined and that ain't any kinda way to treat your boy, is it?

But Buck keeps pushing.

Maybe he needs the reminder.

Needs grinding down into the dirt so he can be appropriately grateful.

"Who decides if you get any attention at all, huh? If you've earned it? Who should you be tripping over yourself to make happy?" Him. He's the one with all the power Buck is willing to lend him and oh- every time they play tgat line seems to go further and further over the edge.

It's when Steve gets casually mean but somehow manages to sneak in these gentle moments in between that makes Bucky go weak at the knees. Makes a guy want to follow Steve into all sorts of trouble for even a scrap like this. It's not like Steve's like this all the time; if Steve really was cruel and dismissive, Bucky sure as hell wouldn't want him as a friend. But it's the fact that when they're fooling around like this and Steve drags it out like a locked chest hidden in the back of a closet that gets Bucky's cock practically drooling on the hard wood floor beneath him.

Bucky doesn't know why that is, just as he doesn't know why Steve throwing him to the ground does so much for him, or dragging him through the mud, calls him every name imaginable and punctuates with a slap. What's that say about him? Steve, he gets. He gets to feel powerful, in control in a way he isn't whenever he's out on the streets. But Bucky? Bucky's too afraid to look deeply at his end, just as he's relieved that Steve never brings it up in the light of day. Bucky wouldn't be able to look him in the eye if he did. It's safer like this. They fool around here, play their games, and once it's done, it's business as usual, like nothing happened

Bucky lets his head get dragged upwards by a hand tangled in his ear, eagerly tilting his face up towards Steve's face like a flower seeking the sun. His lips go slack on a breathless whimper, the angle making his scalp smart.

"You do, Steve. You're the only one who gets to decide," Bucky pants out, shifting his weight just to feel the toy inside him. It's not enough. "You're right, I got so much to do to earn it. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Clearly you need remind'n. It's not your job to think so damn hard, Buck. Not your job to do anything but what I tell ya. But I've been lax, I guess. Given you too much room to think, wind yourself up." Gentling his grip on Bucky's scalp, Steve tugs forward until he's resting against his knee. Like a perfectly trained hound

He doesn't know why this works, just that it does. "S'awright. You don't know any better, I'll sort you out."

He's had enough time to get himself under control now, to rub tge cramp outta his wrist and thigh, will his cock to settle some. Buck gets a little bit of that petting and approval for a moment longer before he gives his hair a light tug.

"Come on up, Buck. Gonna put you over my knee. Give you ten good hits, then if you're sorry? I'll let you come. But you gotta make me believe you mean it." He doesn't think that'll be a problem. He'll, Buck might shoot off while getting spanked.

"Yeah... don't need both of us with a hand on the wheel," Bucky's voice goes softer at the edges. It's like something nice and easy, almost dreamy settles all over Bucky's face and the lines of his shoulders.

It's not like they've sat down and talked this stuff over. He might not survive it if they did. In fact, better they don't. Why ruin a good thing they got going? Besides; Steve's his best guy, and he already seems to know what Bucky needs before Bucky himself figures it out.

Like right now. Bucky doesn't get up, instead eases forward to plaster himself up against one slender leg, wrapping an arm around his ankle like he needs the anchor while he rests his cheek on his thigh and just…kind of sinks into the caresses Steve allows him. His tongue and jaw still smart, but the gentle touches are a balm to the pain that Bucky nuzzles into with a relieved sigh. Steve's not completely sore with him.

Just not enough to spoil him before he's earned it. Bucky goes with the urging, teeth grit on as the toy ends up jostled when he stretches himself in a graceful line across Steve's legs. He has to brace himself with his arms and knees too - Steve's slender all over, and the last thing Bucky wants to do is crush him or something while Steve's setting him straight, hard cock brushing against Steve. Bucky's ass curves up like an offering, the other man's hand bruise practically taunting him.

Buck has so much he has to carry when they're back home in the real world. Bills and rent and paying for their food, tagging in on laundry when Steve's too ill to handle it, keeping what fixtures that do function in their apartment from falling apart. If like this he can take some of that weight from him, Steve will. If there's every any way to make things easier, he'll do it.

Never expected something half so sinful, half so fun, and half so rough to be what Bucky needs.

little scraps of softness between the stings and it's easy to hold his temper as Buck nuzzles him like this is all he could ever want in the world, painfully hard dick or no. Graceful even when he climbs up, all lean limbs and trim waist, slim hips and a sinfully plush ass. It's a problem.

So's the mark on him that Steve didn't put there.

A growl he can't suppress roils in his stomach, one lean hand slipping up to cover that mark, glare evil dark. "If there weren't rules against fight'n I'da laid him out for this."

As it is? He'll settle for making sure Buck's steady before he starts swinging. Now there's no warning, no holding back, and it's not like he can actually hurt Bucky even if he tries- but he swings with everything his little twig arms can manage, hoping it gets Buck to squirm all pretty and indecent.

Bucky's dick twitches where it's pressed against Steve, Steve's throaty growl working its way down every nerve. Bucky should feel more bad about it than he is that the fella laid it on him. Probably will later tonight. But now there's a tiny part of Bucky that's secretly glad the jackass did, because Steve glowers down at it like it's personally offensive. Turns out Bucky got Steve green after all, even if he hadn't meant for it to go so far.

"Mmmm, if I can't stop you from street brawling, the hell's a couple rules gonna do?" Bucky murmurs, low and eager.

He shouldn't like Steve raring for a fight this much. Most of the time he doesn't, because Steve's gonna get himself killed. But it's different right now, knowing it's because Steve's feeling like someone crossed into his backyard. Gets all territorial and extra bossy. (Although he hopes Steve doesn't actually do it. For one, the guy would paste him across the floor)

THAWCK! Steve's hand suddenly descends on one cheek so suddenly and so hard that Bucky's shouts echo in the room. There's no way the door muffles it all, but it doesn't matter at the flash of pain that Bucky squirms away from, grinding against Steve's leg. Another rains down on the other cheek, right over the bruise the guy left behind, and Bucky nearly chokes on the yelp.

Bucky gasps, can barely pant out. "Fuck, Steve! You take up boxing behind my back? Holy hell!"

"I get banned, I don't get more jobs. Don't get paid good money to come here and draw their performers. Don't get free nights in one of their rooms or tickets for drinks." There are benefits to behaving here, specifically, that outweigh his anger.

For once.

No other club seems to be run half as nice, have such good booze for cheap, interesting performers, or so many dandies that actually like Steve. It's strange. Normally it's safer, too, but he'll talk to the owner after he's worked the rest of this out of Bucky.

He feels pretty good about how hard he's swing'n until Bucky starts to really bitch and moan about it and he stops, staring down at the red mark blooming over that other man's bruise squeezed into Bucky's ass. It's not like either of them have desk jobs, but he doesn't- pain's one thing. He doesn't wanna actually HURT Buck. "Too much?"

It's not the confident sneer he usually puts on- his fingers rest feather light against the small of Bucky's back, game put on pause until he's sure this is good. He's never tried play'n quite this rough with Bucky before and knowing the line is good. He can work with boundaries- but there's worry under everything.

Bucky's bracing himself for the next one, only it never comes. Why'd you stop?

He cracks an eye open that he doesn't remember closing, only to remember it doesn't matter because he's got Steve's tie blocking everything out. Even though Steve's palm is spread so gently he can barely tell it's there, Bucky still hones in on it sitting at the small of his back, while his cheeks already throb from the smacks. Just two. Out of a full ten. And he'd take more if that's what Steve decided he earned, even if it kills him. Plus Steve basically challenged him to it.

And Bucky's not about to tap out first.

Shaking his head, Bucky fidgets uselessly on Steve's lap. His laugh has a cracked note to it. "So you do know when to pick your fights. You just chose not to out there."

Bucky reaches behind him, patting around until he comes upon Steve's slim wrist. Silently, Bucky guides him back to press his hand not only against the mark the guy left on him, but he presses it down hard, making it hurt. He's good. You're good. More, please.

A faint huff twists out of Steve at Bucky crack'n wise. They're okay. He didn't brake whatever this thing they're building moment to moment is, the subtle reassurance is more than enough to have him squeeze the bruising on Buck's ass. Okay.

They're good. He wants more. He'll get it.

"Good boy." Soft and achingly fond for a moment. Tipping his cards from his chest more than a little that Buck read that worry and reacted without losing momentum. Anyone would be lucky to have him- but he's Steve's. There's a moment to breathe and he leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the small of Bucky's back, reward and affection both.

Time to get back to it.

Nails dig in, scraping across sensitive skin, dragging into the bruise before he hauls back and swings- two more, just as hard, rocking Buck's cock against his thigh. "That's four."

His ass flexes under the fingers clenching into tender skin, Bucky pushing his hip silently up into Steve's pam just to feel the pressure. It's not that he doesn't like the soft stuff. It's just that it feels so much better on the tail end of being put through his paces, like putting fancy spice on a hearty roast. He's good, Steve. Really good.

Bucky sinks back down onto his lap with a soft hum when Steve brushes a kiss along the base of his spine, looking as pleased as any old alley cat in the perfect patch of sun. The perfect lull right before…

He arches under him as nails drag across skin gone a little tender, Bucky inhaling sharply through his teeth as Steve digs them into the bruise in five points of blunt pain until - Bucky jerks as Steve's palm comes down hard and mean as before, with an audible crack that nearly drowns out the cry ripped out of him as fresh pain blossoms all over his cheeks, which quiver a little in the aftermath as his muscles tense and relax.

"Unngh, holy god," Gritting his teeth, Bucky has to brace himself with a hand on Steve's thigh, fingers spasming on his slacks as he can't help but rock forwards to chase the friction against his dick. Four. Out of ten. Christ.

"Not cry'n uncle yet, are you?" All that whining, the twitching, the yelling as every time he's swatted but good- and he holds out. "Didn't think so."

And there's so much warmth and pride in his voice for that. A little of that hungry heat, that he wants more of this, that he can take this much and still be so goddamn hard. So goddamn pretty. It's distracting. "Look at how pink you get, Buck- oh. Wait."

Steve's laugh is just on this side of cruel. Blindfolded Bucky has no idea the ruin he looks, the mess he's become. At the end maybe he'll let Buck see what he's done but for now it's just the warm dark and the sharp crack of his hand. He doesn't stop after two the next time, gives him a solid three spanks, watching his ass quiver and jiggle, knowing damn well how it'll make the toy on him jolt.

How it's gotta grind against everything good on the inside with every blow.

"Over halfway through. Think you learned your lesson?"

"No, sir," Bucky blurts out. Doesn't even know where that comes from either. But no way in hell is he tapping out.

This time he hears the shift of fabric as Steve swings his arm up, and this time he braces himself. The breath gets knocked out of him when Steve's palm cracks against him, forcing his cock to rub against him and smear a damp streak against the fabric of Steve's pants. His ass, if Bucky could turn back and see it, is starting to flush a pretty pink. Even working it's way up to cherry red with each blow.

Steve's laugh ripples hot like someone wave a candle close to his skin. Bucky's eyebrows come together, mouth pressed into a thin line that's a little uncertain, a little suspicious, because what the hell's Steve plotting now? It smooths out on the next as the next blow lands, and Bucky takes it like a champ, head hanging and dark hair drifting across his temple, with Steve's skinny legs digging into his front.

On the last one hit, though, Steve's fingertips just barely tag the toy's plug. Pushes it harder into him and jostles it. The effect is instant: Bucky spasms under him with a splintered moan, shaking under Steve as the pleasure-pain flare so fierce that his cock fucking throbs and his balls ache, his dick drooling on Steve's leg.. Everything gets tight, so close, so dangerously close.

"Steve, I'm gonna...I'm close, real close," Bucky's grip goes bruisingly tight on Steve's thigh with the effort it's taking to try and hold himself back as he tries to warn him. "I'm tryin' to learn, but I'm close."

Edited (typoed) 2025-06-03 04:07 (UTC)

Oh.

Oh. that twists something sharp edged and hot in Steve's chest. Other boys whine and plead and pant but he's never told them to call him sir before. Never thought of it, never wanted it. But just once tripping off of Bucky's lips and he has to swallow down all sorts of filth he thinks might get it back.

"You sorry yet? Remember Buck- I gotta believe it. Think you can say you're sorry well enough I'll let that happen?" He's trying, and it hurts, that grip on his thigh, enough that he can feel the bruise bone deep already. Makes him hiss and snarl, makes his nails dig in deeper against the reddening skin of Bucky's ass.

That's gonna be a mark he'll have to work around later, hell, it might take a soak for him to not end up black and blue. "Either we keep on just like this- or I take the toy out. Finish you up that way."

Three more swats and then he'll probably let Bucky grind himself off on his thigh, some part of him that can't help but want to spoil him stupid thinks he's earned it. The rest, god, the rest wants to keep mark'n him up. Make him beg like a dog for the barest shred of his attention.

Bucky's trembling under Steve's fingers dig into the meat of his ass, precome seeping into Steve's pants to plaster it against his skin. He's so close he can practically taste it. He's so close that Steve's saying…something, and at first it sounds far away, happening to someone else, because the throb in Bucky's cock and the rasp of fabric against the red shaft practically echoes in his head. The heady lust's clouding his head again, makes him feel stupid; like what Steve's saying is a foreign language.

"I'm sorry, so goddamn sorry," Bucky practically wheezes as the next swat rains down on him, followed by another. Another near the toy, another aimed hard at the hand print. He really does want to make it up to Steve, he's really trying here. "Told you I'd make it up to you, I-"

Bucky's face twists in agonized concentration under the blindfold. He can't even figure out which he wants on the choice Steve's offering him. He's hot all over. Can't think of anything else but the toy shifting inside him, or the sheer heat radiating after each blow. Steve's asking him something. He'll expect an answer, so what's it gonna be?

Bucky never gets to make the choice. He can't hold back on the next swat, can't control it any longer. Instead he thrashes over Steve's lap as everything suddenly snaps, and he comes hard pinned against Steve's leg, smearing splashes of come between him and Steve's thigh. Some of it even arcing up to dot Steve's fly as Bucky shakes apart with a wrecked moan.

Can't think, can barely speak, all he's good for right now is rutting and coming, rocking against the toy that's caught up tight in his body. Holding him open, grinding against his prostate, snug as anything as it forces him into another orgasm.

"Goddamn it Buck-" It takes so much effort to sound disappointed rather than panting hard. If he's lucky Buck won't feel how he's full hard and twitching against his own fly from how gorgeous he is, how loud he's crying out. Even the faint pressure of come staining his slacks feels searing in the aftermath. This is part of why Bucky's got a blindfold. He can keep his face stern or his voice even when Bucky's all twisted up like this- but not both.

Steve's eyes are blown dark and glassy, lips bit red to avoid groaning, to help swallow back every whimper wanting to crawl outta him just from watching.

Anyone would shoot off if they had James Barnes spread across their lap like this, singing like a call girl, painting them bitter white. Only thing saving Steve is his bum body. "If you can't control yourself, you don't get to keep this-"

His hand skims against Buck's hole, gripping and twisting, removing the toy in one long, slick pull. "Making a mess- I was gonna let you come. You were doing so well."

And now all he's done is disappoint Steve.

Consensual Control

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