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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This room's already pretty great just with the toys alone. Maybe he could even dance here. (Bucky's not sure about grabbing a drink or not though - maybe if he's just drinking with Steve). And if Steve gives the go-ahead, maybe he can fool around a little with a guy or two. Thing is, Bucky's already pretty sure it just won't hold a candle to Steve. And there's no way he'd dip back in for seconds with someone else.

"Just not too full," Bucky tells him, hoping Steve reads between the lines. Just because he could swing a full dance card most times doesn't mean he's going to.

But now - Bucky props himself up on his elbow, even though doing that much sets a tremor to his muscles like he can't hold himself up long, so he can look Steve in the eye. But even though he feels so damn weak, Bucky still manages to find the strength to drag Steve lower by the suspenders.

"You're telling me some goons tried to force you?" Bucky asks tightly. Worry's seemed some of the color out of his face: because this is one of his worst nightmares, Steve getting into trouble without anyone to watch his back. One thing to get in an alley scrape, but any of these guys could've snapped Steve in half. "Have I seen 'em around? Do I know 'em?"

And by that, he means he might go busting heads. Just point him at them.

"Not too full." He murmurs, tweaking Bucky's ear. "Your card, your call."

Steve's is more a list of hopefuls- they know he's not around as often as other regulars, that he's preoccupied with a specific grey eyed beauty better than any Dame, and no one gives him a hard time about it. Might, now that they've seen Bucky in person, watched him get all growls and possessive.

But who wouldn't be?

Steve's mind is drifting in happy exhaustion, content to catch his breath before he gets them cleaned up when Bucky pulls him down.

"Wha- Bucky..." worry makes him pale, makes him stern, and Steve's eyes flick off to the side to avoid that serious stare. "...yeah. Remember last year when I had that 'bad fall?'"

Got in a fist fight in another club, got beat pretty good. One of the queens patched him up, helped him get home. It looked worse than it was, but it had looked pretty damn bad. Bloody lip, black eye, bruising on his ribs, shoulder, and neck. Only reason Buck didn't go ballistic was Steve hiding under the sheets citing a migraine until the worst of the bruising went down. "I'm Fine, Buck. Ain't seen 'em since. Don't worry about it."

Edited (additional steve getting his ass kicked details. ) 2025-06-04 21:43 (UTC)

"Goddamit, Steve, the hell were you thinking?" Bucky grits out. It's hard to drag up the energy to be as pissed as he should when Steve fucked him mindless. Or look serious enough when he's naked, covered in marks. But it's just enough for the Bucky to glower up at him. Especially when Steve's eyes dart to the side; the guy's not great at lying, even a white one, which means he just got caught in one. "You barely got out of bed that time. You were hurt that bad?"

Steve had huddled in darkness while Bucky tiptoed around the apartment after work and tried to make sure he had medicine and food, but also dead quiet without too much light.

Of course Bucky can't be there all the time. Steve wouldn't want him either; Bucky's not his keeper. And sometimes they got parts of their lives that the other guy just isn't a part of.

"Any of those guys could've really hurt you," one thing to get into a fight, another when Steve could've been taken advantage of. Fear needles up his spine, even after the fact. With a grimace, Bucky gently knocks his knuckles into Steve's side: you idiot, it says. But he can't keep himself up much longer, so Bucky slumps back again onto Steve's lap. "If you do see 'em, you better point 'em out to me. Swear you'll do it."

"Not that bad- was hid'n that I was bruised up, is all." He hadn't been pissing red, hadn't been coughing up anything other than the usual, it just looked bad. Felt worse, but he wasn't gonna die of it. Of course Buck's not gonna trust that and he's gonna have a hell of a time if he wants to get to any other club aside from this one-

Christ.

Steve's shoulders slump, the last of that easy confidence drifting away, irritation chipping at what he felt he put together for them tonight. Shouldn't have fessed up, that's all. "It was fine. I'm fine. Besides, I'm not going back to any of those clubs, got a good thing here."

And they pay well enough for him not to circle around anymore when they do have work for him.

His hands smooth through Bucky's hair, eyes gliding back to his, pinched and contrite. "...m'sorry I didn't say anything Buck."

But he's not promising to point them out.

Bucky gives Steve a long, hard look that says he knows that's BS. One, Steve's 'wasn't that bad' isn't the same as everyone else's idea of it, and two, that Steve's making no promises. He knows Steve like the back of his hand too, which means once Steve decides on something, he's not budging for anything or anyone. Even his best friend. So Steve'll probably take those SOBs names or faces to the grave if that's what he's set on.

"I guess you said something now," Bucky sighs, and tries to bury the frustration welling up. "Look, I don't want you getting hurt. That's all."

Steve puts this together for him, really took care of Bucky, and he doesn't want it ruined. So Bucky rolls gingerly onto his back and rests his head again on Steve's lap, eyes drifting half shut as he slowly relaxes back into the fingers working through damp hair. That's all he's got the energy for at least. You wouldn't think a tiny guy like Steve could put you through your paces, but it turns out Steve can really wreck a guy.

Bucky tugs Steve down by the shirt gently, urging him to bend over as much as his spine can handle. Their lips brush as Bucky tilts his jaw up, 'cause he does want to smooth this over. "Thank you for doing all this for me. I didn't know how much I needed this."

That stare is more guilt inducing than any lecture from his mother or sermon from church. It's a rare thing when bucky is genuine upset with him and he's earned it- and damn if he hasn't earned it. Bucky's right to worry, even if Steve would rather he didn't.

Best way to help would be to find less trouble, not keep picking fights. "...if they show up here, I'll tell you."

Not if they pass em on the street, not if Bucky sees them at the docks- you don't out people. Even if they're jackasses. But they start that shit here... he'll tell Bucky and not make a thing of it. Won't pick another fight. He remembers more than once the warmth radiating off Bucky's hand in front of his lips, making sure he was still breathing.

"I know, Buck." Keeping him safe wasn't Bucky's job, but they look out for each other. He pulls Steve outta dumbshit fights- Steve makes sure he rests.

For a long moment it's calm and quiet, Steve breathing, marinating in having done well for Buck. Takes nothing to reel him in, the soft kiss actually makes Steve a little red. Everything he said abd did and this is what flusters him, Bucky getting sweet. "You've been pulling double, triple shifts for awhile. I thought you'd like something nice. Haven't even told you the best part yet."

Which is the best he'll get out of Steve: Steve's way of compromising.

It's better than nothing. Though… if Bucky knew who those guys were, it wouldn't matter about keeping their preferences private. You can have plenty of fun, which involves actually respecting people who said no. Without kicking the shit out of them for daring to say no. So why do these clowns get to walk around on the streets, getting to live their lives after hurting Steve that bad? For trying to take advantage of him. If Bucky knew who they were? They'd be dead men walking. Bucky'd come after them, smear them into a red paste somewhere. Doesn't matter if they work next to him or if they were standup guys to Bucky. Doesn't matter if they acted like perfect nuns to everyone else.

But for now, Bucky wants to savor this thing between him and Steve. Who knows when they got another chance?

Bucky breathes a soft, satisfied sound against Steve's lips as he kisses him soft, sweet, and slow, enjoying the too-plush feel of Steve's lips and the taste of him as Bucky lazily dips his tongue against his. He meant every word; Bucky hasn't felt this relaxed in ages. Although… "There's a best part? What could be better than earlier?"

Steve loses himself in the softness of the kiss, humming into it. Maybe he could enjoy this side of things a little while longer? Maybe. "Mm. They got a hot water tub."

So after everything- bucky can have a good soak. "And it's private.. Got some nice soap too."

The towels are better than they have back home, but most are. "Soon as you can walk we can head that way. No rush."

Working Bucky over was a large part of what he wanted tonight, but getting him somewhere he could really relax? That was the best thing, for Steve. Maybe he'll get a little bit of a soak in himself later, when Bucky's done.

Bucky's thumb traces the corner of Steve's mouth as if to encourage a smile there. Especially when he barely smiles outside of these walls, because he's always got a shield up between him and the world. They don't get so soft like this back home. Maybe because it does in fact, hit closer to home. But it's okay here. Feels safe enough to do it.

He lights up. Bucky looks a lot like someone told him they won a car just then. "A real hot tub? All to ourselves? Pal, why didn't you lead with that?"

He's never been in one in his life. Closest he's ever been to that kind of money is just walking outside the Ritz.

And after the gauntlet Steve put him through and his shift today, it's a real dream come true. Steve really is spoiling the hell out of him. A little too eager to be patient, Bucky pushes himself up, wincing as the first aches and pains roll through him. When he gets to his feet, he sways a little, but offers a hand to Steve. "What are we waiting for? Up and at 'em!"

"Because then you wouldn't let yourself rest!" Steve huffs, shaking his head as Bucky proves him right. Eager for anything that feels good, especially if it's a little fancy. "Alright, alright-"

Standing hurts- the bruising on his hip and thigh aching, the nerves in his lower back all knotted up- but it was worth it. Easy.

Anything for Bucky.

"You gonna walk out in your birthday suit?" He audibly pops his back with a wince, caught up in Buckys energy. Best thing in the world, watching him get all excited about anything. Why else agree to go on so many double dates that never end well?

"'Course not, especially when I get a chance at my first hot tub!" Bucky beams.

Especially when he never figured he'd ever step foot near one in his lifetime. The only way Steve could one up this is to get them a stay at one of those fancy hotels where you'd always see the glitterati pull up in their limos and expensive cars with real drivers, dressed sharp in clothes that look like they'd only be worn once. Probably has silk sheets and everything, complete with room service.

It's not like he doesn't want to curl up with Steve and doze off. It's just that he's temporarily got a second wind back as he (a lot more carefully than himself) helps Steve up, though he slows down a little as he catches the way Steve's already hunched over. Bucky's hand drifts to Steve's lower back, digging his knuckles in to try and massage some of the tension out.

"You think they haven't seen it already in a place like this?" Though Bucky's also limping over to the folded towels: one of which he wraps around a lean waist, the other he tosses to Steve. "We should charge them extra for a show though."

"You think you're kidding but they got rooms like this with windows. Fellas pay to watch, club gets a cut. One of the queens upstairs does that every other saturday." Which is why they almost always smell a proper roast on Sundays drifting down from the open window. It's something to think about.

He's not sure how comfortable Buck would be with that, though. Then again he wasn't sure how comfortable Buck would be with any of this and he's taken every left turn like a champ. Steve shakes his head with a laugh and gathers up their discarded clothes, flipping his towel over his shoulder. "It's just down the hall."

When he opens the door there are wolf whistles and applause aplenty- that doe eyed boy from before tucked in his booth stares at Bucky with open envy- another bigger fella pats Steve (gently) on the shoulder on their way past. "Good giv'n it to him, Rogers."

Rolling his eyes, Steve's arm circles Bucky's waist, guiding him back down the hall past a small sauna to the hot tub proper. One or the other gets run most nights, rarely both. "Told you they were listening, Buck."

[ooc: Sugar Baby Bucky is the dream life at this point for him, but sadly later Bucky doesn't think he deserves it :( ]

"Huh. Must pay good money," Bucky says thoughtfully; he'd always wondered how their neighbor swung enough money to have a real roast on the regular. It beats working three jobs that don't pay all that great, or coming home smelling like a dock or engine oil, and at least you'd have some fun doing it. "Always figured it's better to work smarter, not harder."

Bucky slings an arm over Steve's shoulders again, dragging him against his side. Partially because he can't get enough of the way his best friend just fits like a dream against him. The other is because maybe Steve could use something to lean on. One thing for Bucky to take his licks, since he bounces back easier than Steve.

When they come out, Bucky doesn't expect the reception they get, because he slows, eyes wide. Sure, Bucky talks a big game, but as soon as the wolf whistles come out and the actual applause, followed by the eyes all over them, Bucky flushes bright red and ducks his head, letting Steve walk them down the hall as it feels like half the club's looking over Steve's handiwork left on Bucky's body. Though a tiny part of him's damn proud to put that envious look on that other guy's face. You can have Steve, but he'll be comparing you to Bucky.

"I didn't think it'd go right through the walls so loud," Bucky's face looks like it's on fire as he walks unevenly into the room.

"I've had offers." Other pretty boys or big men that think they'd get a solid payout playing with Steve. Doing art for the club is one thing, fooling around is another, but mixing the two?

He isn't sure he can do that. Not without being so aware of the eyes on him, the need to perform not just for who's kneeling, but everyone watching. He shrugs off the thought, tucked close to Bucky and glad for it, locking the door behind them. Big ole tub, tiny shower for scrubbing up first in the corner, rules posted on the wall. No jizzing in the hot tub, mostly.

It fucks up the pipes.

Clothes go on a hanger and Steve nudges Bucky to the shower, a little line of soaps available for his perusal. "Pick something that smells nice."

After weeks at the docks or covered in engine oil? Bucky deserves it.

"I mean, if it makes good money," Bucky says, sounding thoughtful. Better than working three back-breaking jobs. So long as it doesn't come back to bite anyone's ass outside these doors, why not? Besides, he likes it even better knowing he'd get Steve with him, and that the other guys are stuck just watching.

There's always this ugly feeling in his stomach at Steve getting all these offers, but he tries to shove it under a rug or something. Steve's business is his business, until he wants to make it Bucky's. It's just the thought of all these other men pawing at Steve or kneeling for him that gets under his skin.

Well, they aren't here now. The place is nice, real nice. And Bucky lets Steve herd him to the showers, though he pauses to go through the soaps. The one he picks is nice and woodsy, masculine without being overpowering. Stepping in, Bucky turns the facet and is so goddamn relieved that warm water at the perfect temperature comes out instead of the tepid stuff back home.

Bucky makes space for Steve, an eyebrow arched. Joining the party, Rogers? Is what that look says without so many words.

"Dunno if I could keep my head in it." He shrugs. "But if you ever wanted to... I'd think about it."

Easier to hedge it like that than say the only way he would ever us if he had Bucky under his hands. The rest of the world vanishes to nothing when he's got him all soft eyed and sweet, he wouldn't think of the eyes on them at all. Just on Bucky.

Steve takes a moment just to watch Bucky, half hooked smile on his face, eyes bright and fond up till he's called over. This is Bucky's treat, not his-

But he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth, stripping down to walk over, bruises blooming lurid and deep on his hip and thigh already, the one high on his throat already going purple. He'll have to keep inside till that fades out.

Shuffling over he leans into the cool tile, letting all that warmth soak into his spine with a sigh.

"I might be up for it at least once," Bucky tells him as he gives Steve some extra room. Like he's trying out a new dish and not offering up to put on a show with Steve for a bunch of strangers. It's got an appeal; except for out there where Bucky had been caught off-balance, the rest of the time Bucky loves getting eyes on him the moment he enters a room.

And better yet, maybe it'd drive that pretty doe-eyed guy off while he's at it, people see that he can't wind Steve up the same way. Maybe show everyone else that maybe they got a piece of Steve, but it'll never be that big a slice.

Pressing the soap into Steve's hands, Bucky's slick fingers gently touch the bruise blooming on Steve's thigh, then skate up to the one on his hip before gently nudging Steve's jaw up so he can get a good look at it, making a soft sound of concern. Other than the handprint the stranger left on Bucky's ass, Steve's the one who bruises quicker than him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lay it on you so hard," Bucky murmurs, hands dipping down to frame Steve's narrow hips. "They look like they hurt pretty bad…"

"We can talk about it, maybe pick a night." Something to think about, get a little extra cash, maybe use it to get a new radio. But that's for another day, right now there's just steam warm enough to soothe hos lungs and Bucky happy as a kid in a candystore. Something about all that joy just... it hits as good as any moonshine, having that smile pointed at him.

Having a little more of his time, his attention. Can't beg for it, though, can't seem needy. Last thing he wants is for Buck to get tired of putting up with him.

"S'just sore." He hisses faintly under his breath, leaning into the stroke rather than away. Working the blood put from the bruise helps more in the long run. "Kinda planned on being laid up the next few days, got some art jobs to keep me busy."

Keep him off his feet and outta public, safe where bucky doesn't have to worry about him so much.

Water slicks his hair against his scalp, clumps his lashes together as he tips his face into the stream. "I'm OK. Really, Buck. Kinda like that I get you that wild."

Tilting Steve's jaw to the side, Bucky winces at the bruise tucked under his jaw. Just visible enough Steve can't exactly go around town without questions being asked; it's not like he's got a good excuse like Bucky has. "We didn't have to go so far if it'd get this bad for you."

Steve doesn't like being mother-henned, but Bucky just can't help fussing over him anyway, gently kneading the outer edges of the bruises like maybe it'll help. Now that his dick's not running the show, Bucky's left with the realization of how much taking care of him ended up taking a toll on Steve. That Steve gets so run down with the effort that he gets laid up for it, as if he already doesn't spend so much time stuck in bed or cooped up at home.

Letting Steve up, Bucky snags the soap from him and works a good lather into his hands, though he doesn't work on himself first. Gently, he works it through blond strands, taking care to work the tangles out and not to get any suds in Steve's eyes, taking his sweet time to gentle massage at his scalp. He looks good like this. Maybe too pretty for his own good, but for some reason, it seems safe to actually really look at him this way here.

"You're the only person who gets me going that bad," Bucky tells him. Sure, he'd been with some spitfires before, but they hadn't gotten bossy with the perfect amount of mean streak tempered with softness that drives him wild. "One day you'll be the death of me, Steve."

"I was gonna tie your wrists to something but forgot." That usually keeps it from happening. "Then you were just so damn sweet for me..."

It's hard to deny Bucky anything when his eyes go all soft and distant, when he really gets floating. Especially with how mean he has to get to get Bucky in that place to start. Feels a little bit like an apology, actually works more like Chiaroscuro. Sharpness and sweetness, a firm hand and a gentle voice. Contrasts that make everything a little bit more.

Maybe it's that artist's eye and knowledge that really gives Steve his skill in this, knowing how far to push, how much to give before offering up a reward. Always making the boys that kneel work for it. But Bucky?

Bucky is his favorite canvas. Always will be.

His eyes stay shut, tilting into the scrub of Buck's hands. Normally the doting gets eye rolls and fussing right back but...he's tired. He worked pretty damn hard to make sure this was good and not scary for Buck, even with him gett'n drugged. So he'll let Bucky dote a little. "Nah, pretty sure it'll be the other way 'round, Buck."

"Holy hell, that's…" Bucky's fingers scrape a little rougher against Steve's scalp, sucking in an uneven breath through his teeth; he would've liked that - being tied up - a helluva a lot too. Just means they can save it for next time. "We'll get some ropes or something next time. Maybe even dig up some cuffs."

Hopefully this joint has some, 'cause the ropes seem easier to get than handcuffs. But now that Steve's brought it up, the idea seems better than better. If orgasm number five wasn't practically guaranteed to put him or Steve in the grave, Bucky'd want to give it a go. And maybe if he does good enough, he'll make Steve decide he doesn't need to bother with those other guys. Or maybe a lot less.

Bucky works patiently at his hair before easing Steve around so he can start working the suds along his sharp shoulders, lingering at the sweep of his collarbones. With Steve's eyes closed and him turning into putty into his hands, it seems safe to lean over and brush a gentle kiss against an ear. Something soft, quick, and not so much trying to get Steve riled up as it is just wanting to touch him, curl around him for the rest of their lives. All the stuff you couldn't actually have. But this club seems a world of its own, and his folks haven't gotten on Bucky's case to get married yet, so…

"Well, we can't have that," Bucky nuzzles against him. He hides a grin against his hair. "I figure it's like boxing. We'll just have to train a lot and work up to it."

Steve's head lolls as Bucky works him over, slumping into him more and more than he does the tile. It might be cool but Bucky's- he can't help but be drawn to him. Gravitate toward him, especially with his walls down and his guard nonexistant. Slurring softly like he's the one cockdrunk Steve murmurs-"Got a list."

Tucked away for a rainy day. "Things I wanna do to you."

Every time they do somth'n together it gets longer and longer, tucked in the back of one of his journals. There are things on there he'll never be able to do, he knows. Can't hold Buck down, not really. Can't hold him up against the wall, can't really do a lot of things that others take for granted but...he can work out what he's able. See how much everything costs him to try, figure out how much energy he'll need to actually do them and how long he'll need to recover. It's a lot of mental gymnastics but- Buck's worth it.

Bucky's always worth it.

A soft little half hook of a smile curls on his lips when Bucky leans in like that, kissing his jaw sweet as pie. Like they're lovers for real instead of just screwing around. A small part of him does want that but-

Steve's got to be a realist. One day a dame will make an honest man out of James Barnes and he'll...survive. It's what he's best at. "They got toys for that, you know. Been sav'n up for one, for you."

For nights when he can't manage.

Bucky's more than happy to let Steve lean against him, head tilted back like they can be something more than just guys who sometimes fool around. It's hard to remember that when Steve's face goes soft around the edges like he's daydreaming.

Brushing another kiss along the other side of Steve's jaw - the unmarred side, Bucky smiles into the soft skin there."Oh yeah? Hope it's a mile long."

He sweeps the wet hairs straggling into Steve's face back against his head, brushing one more kiss along the nape of his neck before he guides Steve to turn and face him again, guiding more suds down his front and lingering to delicately rub circles along nipples that Bucky's always loved when they perked up. Just enough to tease and feel them harden, but they have to be done. No funny business. Especially when Bucky's not even unsure that the drug's in his system can't can't actually set him off again if he gets turned on too much.

How they're making it back home after this is anyone's guess. "So don't open my birthday gift in front of decent company? Got it. 'Course you could give it to me early, so I can start training."

"Two miles." Steve sighs easily, little curl of a smile growing at how damn sweet Buck's being. Clearly he just needs to treat him a little more often when he works hard and that'll get him a slice of this. How long they can get away with it he's not sure but...

There won't be a dame alive that'll let it keep on.

He pushes that thought aside just as he reaches up to push away Bucky's hands, nipples peaking under the heat and slow rub of his fingers. "Cut it out, Barnes, don't get fresh when neither of us can do anything with it-"

Bucky can try if he wants but Steve? Trying again will give him more than an attack, it'll give him an arrhythmia. He already knows that for certain.

Pulling back to finish rinsing perfunctorily he shakes his hair like a dog while stepping away from the shower to the tub, squinting at the instructions for temperature. "Gonna give it to you on the sly, when you least expect it."

"Two miles. Greedy bastard," Bucky laughs, warm and rich under his breath. Two miles. Like that doesn't have Bucky already eager to find out what's on that list of Steve's. After all, if Steve's spent all this time honing up this other skill of his in the clubs, he'd like to experience it for himself.

Bucky rolls his thumb one last time on one nipple then Steve's knocking his hands away, but not before Bucky can see how pert and bite-able they look now. But Bucky holds his hands up in surrender -okay, Rogers, I give - even if he doesn't look all that sorry about it. What? You got great nipples. Real works of art.

While Steve steps away, Bucky tends to himself, working the suds all over and for once, not in any real hurry to beat the shower temperature for when it goes from tepid to balls-freezing cold. That's the problem with coming out to a place like this. You could get used to having nice facilities.

Here's Steve telling him to cool it, and yet he drops that. Bucky's face goes warm at the thought; Steve ambushing him with it, whatever it is, or maybe he'd wake up to it. And doesn't that paint a pretty picture? "Just make sure you do it when I don't have work the next morning." A silent blank check if there ever was one.

Edited 2025-06-06 03:47 (UTC)

Consensual Control

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Bucky has expensive tastes, okay, and not the means to enjoy it. Tragic

Born to be a sugar baby, forced to be a laborer.

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