Трудно отрицать, что
заявка адская, но первое исполнение...
ИДЕАЛьНОЕ.
Всё на месте - никто не забыл запятые и орфографию, никто не забыл про характеры героев, никто не забыл про Мусорник...
ИДЕАЛьНАЯ комбинация ангста, насилия и хладнокровного издевательства, и флаффа.
Обожаю Мусорник.
Читаю второе исполнение.
upd: Слишкам многа букафф, потерял интерес. В комментах пишут, что хорошо написано, может, еще вернусь почитать... Но какой-то там Баки... нытик...
Сохраняю первое.
Еще плюшку за краткость, ибо и читать легко, и сохранить легко, и вообще сестра таланта.Be The One You Need
“If you’re sure…” Bucky lets the words trail off, because he can’t quite fathom the lengths to which Steve’s willing to go for him. What he did to deserve this man, he doesn’t know. But here, safe in the darkness of their room, he can try to make Steve understand.
“Tell me what you need.” Steve tugs Bucky close.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” He settles his hand more firmly around Bucky’s waist. “I want to. I want to give you what you need. Tell me.”
“I… A safeword.”
“Carter,” Steve says without hesitating. He’s been thinking about this, Bucky can tell. He’s approaching it like he does a mission, putting the intel together, turning that keen tactical mind to the challenge of fulfilling Bucky’s needs.
Bucky lets himself think they could actually do this. He calls up the fantasies, long worn thin with the replaying, and takes stock of the essentials. “You should struggle.”
“Okay.”
Bucky can practically see Steve taking mental notes. “Actually struggle, Steve. There’s something about having to subdue you…”
“I get it. I can do that.” Steve presses a kiss against his neck. “What about talking?”
Bucky swallows. “I’m not sure what might come out of my mouth. It probably won’t be pleasant.”
“Now this I can’t wait to hear,” Steve chuckles.
Bucky echoes the laugh, but then trails off. In the moment, his words might not seem funny at all. “If you want to stop—“
“The safeword, I know.” Steve shifts in the dark, turning over on his side to prop his head up with his hand, even though he can only see the shadowy outline of Bucky. “Now, what about me? Aside from struggling. Do you want me to talk? To try to get you to stop?”
“Yeah.” Bucky presses his face against Steve’s shoulder. He’s already getting hard, just from imagining that.
“Tell me what else.”
Bucky can start to see it: Steve under him, all that power in his control, helpless. His breath falters.
“Bucky.” Steve’s hand brushes through Bucky’s hair. “I love you. I’m going to be fine.”
--
In the end, Bucky has to restrain Steve. He’d borrowed restraints from Stark’s lab: thin but incredibly strong bands Stark’s been working on for Banner. Steve got in a solid kick, bloodying Bucky’s lip, but he’s on his back now, trussed up like a chicken with his feet above his head, and his arms tied to the headboard. He looks faintly surprised, like he didn’t expect to actually be helpless. Bucky pauses, asks, “Is there anything you want to say?” But Steve shakes his head, leaving the safeword unspoken.
Steve had subsided briefly, when he discovered he was trapped, but now, as Bucky inserts two slick fingers, he starts to struggle again, squeezing tight to try to keep himself from being violated.
“Shhh.” Bucky pets a hand down Steve’s thigh, tracing the path of the ropes. “This is good for you.”
He digs his fingers into Steve’s thigh, just above the ropes, and that makes him arch his back. The fingers slide in deeper.
“Don’t,” Steve gasps, and Bucky lands a stinging backhand against his cheek.
“You’re not giving the orders anymore,” Bucky hisses. His dick twitches as the outline of his hand turns red on Steve’s check. He jabs his fingers in, hard, which wrings a pained grunt out of Steve.
There’s so much he could do to a man, tied up helpless like this. Break his fingers one by one, and his toes. Cut fine, pretty lines up the backs of his thighs. Paddle him until his ass is a brilliant red. But there’s nothing quite as brilliant as that first moment of penetration, that point of no return when the victim realizes that this is happening, that the soldier can do as he wants, that he cannot be stopped. He is powerful, he is in control, and he is allowed to take his pleasure.
“Say you want it.”
Steve clenches his teeth, the same look he adopted whenever bullies demanded something of him.
“Say it.” Bucky twists his metal fingers inside Steve, sliding them unerringly to make Steve twitch on his hand. “Your body knows what it wants.”
Steve’s cock is hardening against his stomach. Bucky leans in to give it a solid lick. Then he wraps flesh fingers around it and squeezes, hard, even as he presses up with the hand that’s inside of Steve. A pained yelp echoes off the ceiling. “It’s going to happen, whether you want it to or not. I’m going to break you open. Wreck you. Stretch you so wide my come leaks out of you. Maybe after I’ve ridden you I’ll make you take my hand.” He slides his thumb against the metal palm, sending vibrations through his arm down to the tips of his fingers and creating a grating sound. “You’ll look so beautiful spread like this, gaping open. I bet I can make you cry.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet,” Steve snaps.
“Oh no? That’s not enough. You want more.” Bucky adds another finger to the two already stretching Steve. Steve gulps in a breath and holds it as Bucky works a hand over Steve’s dick in time to the fingers sliding into his ass. “Maybe I can bring some friends. Would you like to stay here, tied up like this, and taking anyone who wants a ride? I could leave you here for days. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to charge, since you’ll be so used up once I’m finished.”
Bucky uses that twist at the top of the stroke that he knows Steve loves, and Steve bucks up against his restraints, swallowing a cry.
“Or maybe I should keep you all to myself. I could train you to be a good slut for me. You’d get down on your knees and beg without a second thought.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“No? Try to stop me.” Bucky slides his fingers out of Steve’s well-lubricated ass, and kneels on the bed.
Steve lashes out, his immense strength straining the restraints, but they hold. He screams as he thrashes, making Bucky’s cock harder than it’s been in months. “Stop! No!”
When Bucky leans in to line up, Steve spits in his face. Bucky pulls back, heart pounding with the joy of struggle, and slaps Steve hard. It feels so good that Bucky delivers a few swats to Steve’s ass, and his thighs, and squeezes a hand tight around his dick until he howls, “Please! Stop! Don’t, please.”
“Learn to be more polite,” Bucky growls. He snatches Steve’s ripped shorts from where they were tossed aside in the struggle, and shoves them into his mouth. He takes a second to grab the red handkerchief from the bedside table and press it firmly into Steve’s hand, where he can grip or drop it—their nonverbal safeword. Then, being sure to go slowly enough to read every reaction of Steve’s body, he pushes in.
It’s perfect. He holds Steve’s hips hard enough to bruise as Steve struggles beneath him, shouting mangled protests into the makeshift gag. Pleasure that at any other time comes with terrible frustration is allowed here. Here, he is in charge, and he can have release.
He speeds up. Steve’s face is flushed, and the color spreads down his chest. Bucky slams into him. He doesn’t have to hold back. He can take what he needs. The pressure builds inside of him, months of thwarted tension rising in an unstoppable wave. Beneath him, Steve screams and writhes.
Then the crash of breaking wood shatters the moment. Bucky is in the air before he realizes he’s been hit, but he gets his bearings in time to land in a semblance of a roll and come up on his feet. Natasha is coming at him, weapon on her wrist buzzing with electricity. He sidesteps the threat, prioritizing defense, because Steve is helpless on the bed. Barton is there, with a knife.
Bucky moves to eliminate the threat, but Natasha is up again, kicking his legs out from under him. He flips back onto his feet and smashes her into the wall. He doesn’t have time—Steve can’t defend himself. He—
Barton has managed to cut one of the restraints, and Steve has pulled the gag out of his mouth. “Stop!” He grabs Barton’s arm, preventing him from drawing his bow. “Nat, stop!”
Bucky turns to see her freeze with a knife in her hand, inches from his back. He raises his hands slowly and steps away from her. Barton moves to block his path to the bed, until Steve says, “Okay, let’s everyone calm down.”
“That’s going to be difficult until we know you’re okay,” Barton says. Natasha still has the knife raised, and her eyes don’t waver from her target.
“I’m fine. Bucky’s fine. We were… This was all…Uh, for fun,” Steve finishes in a mutter.
Natasha’s eyes flick to Barton, then back to her target. “Really. What’s your safeword?”
“Carter,” they both say at once.
Natasha lowers her knife. “So, you’re not being attacked,” she says to Steve. “And you haven’t had your conditioning triggered.”
“No,” Steve says, sounding much less patient, now. “How did you even--?”
“Jarvis.” Barton says.
“I’m sorry, sir,” comes a contrite voice out of the walls. “Your vital signs, combined with the conversation triggered a safety alert.”
“Oh yeah, you gotta put those on custom settings before you roleplay.” Barton rubs the back of his neck and offers Bucky a weak smile. “I can show you sometime.”
“That would be great.” Bucky turns to Natasha. “Are you--?”
“I’ll be fine.” She rolls her shoulders. “A bit sore, but fine. And we’re leaving.” She speeds towards the door, with Barton hot on her heels.
“But thanks,” Bucky offers. “We appreciate the thought.”
Natasha nods, and closes the door.
Bucky stares at the ceiling, hoping the shame will pass sometime this week. From the bed, he hears Steve start to chuckle, and looks up. “What?”
“Well, I thought that was going pretty well, until the real violence started.”
Bucky feels his cheeks heat. “So you were alright?”
“I promised you I’d let you know if I wasn’t. I trust you.”
“Thanks.” Bucky presses a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before he starts working on the knots. “Even if we didn’t finish, I really…”
Steve’s newly freed hand wraps around Bucky’s neck and holds him close. “It was what you needed. I know. I saw.”
Bucky takes a deep, shuddery breath and nods against Steve’s shoulder.
“And next time will be better,” Steve says.
“There’s a next time? After all this?”
Steve tightens his hold on Bucky. “I’ll give you what you need. Always.”
@темы:
Мусорник,
Наблюдения,
Слэш,
Фанфики,
Отношения