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ladysif8 · 7 months ago

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Lucky To Have Daddy

•Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

•Rating: Explicit

•Tags: College Student Bucky Barnes, Lawyer Steve Rogers, Baby Boy Bucky Barnes, Daddy Steve Rogers, Younger Man/Older Man, Established Relationship, Friday the 13th, Bad Luck, Anal Fingering , Anal Sex, Riding.

•Summary:

Bucky’s always had a streak of bad luck, but when things go wrong, there’s one person who can always make it better—his Daddy, Steve. 😏💙 Whether it’s missed ferries, broken computers, or just a rough day, Steve’s there to take care of his baby boy in every way.

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The skyscraper stood as an imposing sentinel in the heart of Manhattan, its sleek black facade a sharp contrast against the gloomy, rain-soaked afternoon. Shield Justice Partners LLP —was a monument of power and prestige, its dark glass exterior reflecting the city’s endless hustle. Bucky didn’t spare it a second glance as he stalked through the revolving doors, soaked to the bone and shivering from the relentless downpour outside.

Rainwater dripped from his hair, plastering it to his face, and his soaked sneakers squeaked obnoxiously against the pristine marble floors. The lobby was an architectural marvel, all polished stone and high ceilings with abstract sculptures jutting out at odd angles as if to remind everyone stepping inside that they were entering a realm of wealth and influence. A massive chandelier hung overhead, its crystals catching the artificial light in a way that should have been dazzling but instead just felt harsh and unwelcoming.

Bucky felt like a drowned rat amidst the opulence, the kind of out-of-place that made his skin itch. His day had started spiraling the second his eyes opened to a crack of sunlight slipping through Peter’s dingy curtains. He’d bolted upright, panicking when he saw the time, and the frantic rush had left him scrambling through his bag for essentials he’d apparently forgotten, like his wallet and phone charger. The ferry had left without him, and so had his chance of making it to class on time.

By the time he finally arrived, drenched from the rain that had started just as he’d stepped off the ferry, he was already thirty minutes late. His professor hadn’t even bothered to look up as he slunk into the back row, too ashamed and soggy to make excuses. Then there was the library fiasco.

Bucky trudged into the library with Peter, still bleary-eyed from their back-to-back lectures. After hours of Engineering classes, all Bucky wanted was to wrap up his midterm paper and finally cross something off his to-do list. They found their usual spot in the corner by the large windows, where the rain outside streaked down the glass in thin rivulets, a constant reminder of the miserable weather.

Peter had wandered off to grab snacks and came back, balancing two coffees and a bag of chips. He set a large cup in front of Bucky, steam curling up from the lid, filling the air with the warm, rich smell of caffeine. Bucky mumbled a quick thanks, barely looking up from his screen as he typed furiously, his fingers moving at lightning speed across the keyboard. The clock was ticking, and he could almost hear the seconds slipping away. He was so close to finishing, just a few more paragraphs, but his brain was threatening to quit on him.

He reached for the mug without thinking, setting it down on the very edge of the table as he grabbed for his notes, eyes never leaving his laptop. But fate, as it turned out, wasn’t on his side today.

One careless elbow nudge, and suddenly, the mug was teetering. Bucky’s heart dropped into his stomach as he watched it tip over, the dark liquid spilling out in what felt like slow motion. Coffee cascaded across the table, soaking into the haphazard pile of notes and papers before finally pooling under the laptop. He tried to snatch the cup upright, but it was too late. The liquid had already seeped into every crevice, and with a flicker and a sickening pop, the screen went black.

“Shit!” Bucky yelped, his voice echoing louder than intended in the otherwise quiet library. He lunged for his laptop, fingers jabbing at the power button in frantic repetition. “No, no, no.” His voice cracked, the words coming out as a desperate plea. He mashed the button again, praying for some sign of life, but the screen remained dark and lifeless. Hours of work—unsaved work—gone in an instant.

He slumped back in his chair, running a shaky hand through his hair, wetting the strands with his own coffee-stained fingers. The smell of burnt circuits mixed with the sharp bitterness of spilled coffee stung his nose. His pulse pounded in his ears, a drumbeat of frustration and disbelief.

Bucky glanced around, catching the sympathetic looks of a few nearby students. Normally, he’d flush with embarrassment, but today, he didn’t have the energy to care. He was too tired, too angry, too everything. He yanked a handful of napkins from his bag and tried to mop up the mess, but the dark stain had already spread, soaking into the table and the edges of his soggy notes. It was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon.

He pressed his forehead to the table, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could block out the world for just a minute. The cold, sticky coffee seeped into his sleeves, but he barely noticed. All he could think about was how much he needed a break, a do-over, anything to rewind the last five minutes. But the damage was done, and the day was only getting worse.

Peter hovered nearby, awkwardly holding a damp stack of napkins he’d grabbed in a panic. “I’m really sorry, man,” Peter said quietly, but Bucky just waved him off, too exhausted to respond. He could feel the frustration bubbling up, hot and relentless, but all he could do was take another shaky breath and try to hold it together.

It was just one of those days—the kind where everything that could go wrong did. And as the rain continued to patter against the windows, Bucky couldn’t help but feel like the universe was having a good laugh at his expense.

As Bucky stumbled through the lobby of the Shield Justice Partners LLP, every step felt heavier than the last. All he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep off the cursed day that seemed determined to bring him to his knees. His phone was still dead, a useless brick in his pocket, and his stomach growled loudly, a constant reminder that he hadn’t eaten anything since the coffee disaster. Despite the building’s overly aggressive heating system, he couldn’t shake the chill from his soaked clothes, and he shivered as he moved.

The guilt of showing up at Steve’s office unannounced weighed heavily on him. Even though he knew Steve wouldn’t mind and would probably just be relieved to see him, Bucky still felt like he was intruding. He clenched his jaw, pushing back the frustration and exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him and headed toward the reception desk.

“Hey, Viv,” Bucky mumbled, lifting a hand in a half-hearted wave. He tried for a smile but only managed a grimace, his spirits too dampened by the day’s string of misfortunes.

Vivian raised an eyebrow, taking in his sodden appearance. “Rough day, huh?”

“Understatement of the century,” Bucky grumbled. “Steve around?”

“He’s in a meeting,” she said apologetically. “Should be done soon, though.”

Of course, he was. Bucky forced a tight nod, muttering his thanks before trudging past the sleek rows of glass-walled offices, their inhabitants all looking far more put together than he did. His sneakers squelched with every step, leaving a trail of water droplets on the immaculate carpet. When he finally pushed open the door to Steve’s office, he let it shut behind him with a satisfying click, muffling the distant chatter of high-powered attorneys.

Bucky tossed his wet bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the plush leather couch, letting out a heavy sigh as he sank into its embrace. He pulled his knees up to his chest, staring out at the rain that beat against the windows in rhythmic taps. The office was a sanctuary of calm amidst the chaos—a polished oak desk with a neat stack of files, a small potted plant Steve insisted made the space feel "homier," and the familiar scent of cedarwood and peppermint that clung to everything Steve touched.

Bucky closed his eyes, trying to focus on the steady sound of the rain instead of the gnawing hunger or the sting of his drenched clothes against his skin. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

Steve stepped out of the sleek conference room, the door clicking softly behind him as he walked into the bustling hallway. Natasha and Sam flanked him, still animatedly discussing the finer points of the case they had just gone over. Sam’s hands moved with emphasis as he laid out his argument while Natasha nodded along, her eyes sharp with focus. Steve listened, nodding thoughtfully and adding his own insights as they made their way through the busy corridors of Shield Justice Partners LLP, where the hum of conversation and the steady rhythm of clicking heels filled the air.

“Think we can push the judge on this one?” Sam asked, half-joking but clearly invested in the idea.

“Maybe,” Natasha replied with a slight smirk. “As long as we don’t put him to sleep first.”

Steve chuckled, feeling the weight of the meeting start to lift. As they passed through the crowded lobby, he gave Natasha and Sam a quick nod. “I’ll catch up with you both later,” he said, parting ways and heading directly toward Vivian’s desk.

Vivian, always composed and impeccably organized, glanced up from her computer as Steve approached. She was sorting through a small stack of papers, and she gave him a warm smile.

“Hey, Steve. How’d the meeting go?” she asked, sliding a folder in his direction.

“Went well,” Steve said, flashing a brief grin. He handed her a stack of papers, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. “Can you file these depositions for me? Thanks.”

Vivian nodded, jotting down a quick note on a sticky pad. “Of course. And these came in while you were in the meeting.” She handed him a small stack of call slips, which Steve quickly thumbed through. He noted a few from clients, a couple marked urgent, and one from his brother.

“Thanks, Viv,” Steve said, folding the slips into his pocket. “Anything else?”

Vivian hesitated slightly, her eyes drifting toward the hallway leading to his office. “Actually, Bucky’s in your office. He got here a little while ago.”

Steve raised a curious eyebrow, his gaze following hers toward his closed office door. “Bucky? Didn’t know he was stopping by,” he said, his tone a mix of surprise and mild concern. He thanked Vivian again before making his way down the hall, weaving through the maze of desks and glass-walled offices with purpose.

As Steve approached his office, he noticed the door was shut, the blinds drawn—a small sign that Bucky wanted some privacy. Steve paused outside, hand hovering over the doorknob for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He took a breath and turned the handle, pushing the door open quietly.

Inside, Bucky was curled up on the couch, his clothes soaked through and plastered to his body from the relentless downpour outside. His wet hair clung to his forehead in messy strands, and a small puddle was forming beneath his boots. The exhaustion and frustration on his face were palpable, even as he tried to find some solace in the soft cushions. The contrast between his drenched figure and the polished, orderly office was striking, and Steve’s concern deepened as he took in the scene.

Steve stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. “Hey, Buck,” he said softly, careful not to startle him. “Rough day?”

Bucky stirred, his blue eyes weary and unfocused. He let out a tired sigh, sinking further into the couch cushions. “You have no idea,” he muttered, his voice low and defeated.

Steve crossed the room and settled down beside him, immediately feeling the chill from Bucky’s soaked clothes seep into the air. He reached over and began to gently push Bucky’s wet hair back from his face, his touch tender and soothing.

As Bucky looked up at Steve, he couldn’t help but notice the contrast between himself and the older man. Steve was dressed in a navy Hugo Boss suit, the white button-up shirt stretched across his broad chest and left open at the collar. His blonde hair was neatly styled back, and his beard, streaked with dark blond and a touch of gray, only added to his commanding presence. Steve looked every bit the epitome of success and strength—a striking figure with massive muscles that made Bucky feel like a mere potato in comparison.

Bucky’s bottom lip began to tremble, his breath hitching as he sniffled once, then twice, before he finally broke. In a sudden, desperate movement, he launched himself into Steve’s lap, his arms wrapping tightly around the older man’s torso as he buried his face into Steve’s stomach. The warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace were what he needed—what he’d been holding out for all day.

Steve didn’t hesitate, his big arms instinctively wrapping around Bucky’s smaller frame, pulling him close. “Shh, it’s okay,” Steve murmured softly, his voice low and soothing. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Bucky’s head, his lips lingering there as he held him.

Bucky shuddered, the floodgates finally opening as a sob escaped him, his body shaking with the force of it. “Daddy…” he whimpered, his voice muffled against Steve’s neck, the word coming out as both a plea and a comfort. Steve's heart clenched, his grip tightening protectively around Bucky as he continued to whisper soft reassurances, holding him as if he could shield him from all the bad days in the world.

Steve tightened his hold on Bucky, gently rocking him back and forth. “Daddy’s here,” he murmured softly, his voice full of reassurance as he kissed the top of Bucky’s head. The steady motion seemed to calm Bucky just a little, though his grip on Steve remained tight, as if letting go would send the world crashing down again.

But the moment was interrupted by the loud, almost comical growl of Bucky’s stomach. Steve paused, pulling back just enough to look down at Bucky with gentle concern. “Buck, have you eaten today?”

Bucky’s body tensed, and the tears that had slowed came rushing back in full force. He sobbed harder, burying his face deeper into Steve’s neck as the guilt surged through him. He knew Steve always got onto him when he forgot to eat, and today, of all days, he had to forget his wallet at Peter’s. Sometimes, school got so overwhelming that meals just… didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he clutched Steve’s suit tighter, trembling in his lap. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to forget my wallet. I just got so caught up and—” His words were jumbled, choked by sobs and the weight of his exhaustion.

Steve’s heart ached at the sound of Bucky’s apology. He cupped Bucky’s face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, his tone soft and comforting. “I’m not mad. Daddy’s not mad at you. We’ll get you something to eat, alright? Just breathe.”

Bucky nodded weakly, the tension in his body slowly easing as Steve’s steady presence reassured him. Steve continued to rock him gently, whispering soothing words, knowing that sometimes Bucky just needed to be reminded that he wasn’t in this alone.

Eventually, Steve had to pull away as his office phone rang, the shrill tone breaking through the quiet moment. He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple before gently untangling himself from the younger man’s arms.

“I’ve got to take this, Buck,” Steve murmured, his voice still soft as he handed Bucky his cell phone. “Why don’t you order us some lunch? Get whatever you want.”

Bucky, still sniffling but calmer now, nodded as he curled up on the couch. He took the phone, feeling the warmth from Steve’s hand lingering on the device as he scrolled through the food delivery app. He flicked through the options, his mind still foggy from the emotional drain of the day, but when he saw the menu for his favorite Mexican takeout place in Manhattan, he made up his mind. Chips and queso. That was a safe bet, right? No one could be sad while eating chips and queso.

As Bucky scrolled through the options, his fingers hovered over the familiar dishes that always brought him comfort. After a day like this, he needed something warm, cheesy, and filling to make up for the absolute disaster his morning had been.

For himself, he settled on his go-to: Pollo a la Playa, or “chicken on the beach,” as he called it. A perfectly grilled chicken breast smothered in gooey queso served with a side of rice and a mountain of tortilla chips for dipping. The thought of that creamy, melty cheese oozing over the chicken made his mouth water. It was exactly what he needed to lift his spirits, at least a little.

Then came Steve’s order. Bucky let out a quiet sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he added the usual "double fajita combo". Steve always had to be that person—the one who customized everything: no tortillas, no rice, just the chicken and steak with extra veggies. Bucky pictured the massive plate arriving, filled with grilled peppers, onions, and perfectly seasoned meats, and couldn’t help but shake his head. Only Steve could turn a perfectly good fajita into something that resembled a health-conscious plate, but Bucky loved him for it anyway.

He finished placing the order, feeling slightly better now that lunch was on the way. At least with chips, queso, and a heaping plate of Mexican food, things might start looking up.

Bucky kicked off his soaked shoes, watching as they thudded softly against the polished wood floor, leaving a small puddle behind. His socks squished uncomfortably, but he didn’t care. Barefoot, he padded over to Steve’s enormous mahogany desk, the smooth surface gleaming under the soft, warm light of the office. The room was just as grand as Steve himself—dark leather furniture, shelves lined with thick legal volumes, and the subtle scent of polished wood and cologne lingering in the air. It was impressive, a perfect reflection of Steve’s steady, commanding presence.

Steve was still on the phone, leaning back in his high-backed leather chair, his broad shoulders filling out the navy Hugo Boss suit he wore. His deep voice rumbled through the space, confident and calm as he spoke to the client on the other end of the line.

Bucky, feeling a sudden surge of affection and a desire to be close, hesitated for only a second before gently nudging Steve’s chair back. Steve glanced down, smirking, when he realized what Bucky was up to. Without missing a beat in his conversation, he slid his chair back just enough to give Bucky room.

Bucky carefully climbed into Steve’s lap, curling up against his strong chest, feeling the warmth of Steve’s body seep through his damp clothes. It was instant comfort. Steve, still talking on the phone, wrapped one arm around him, his large hand moving up and down Bucky’s back in slow, soothing circles.

The steady rhythm of Steve’s touch, combined with the low rumble of his voice, lulled Bucky into a state of peace. He rested his head against Steve’s shoulder, closing his eyes as the stress of the day melted away. The deep, soothing timbre of Steve’s voice felt like a lullaby, pulling him closer to sleep with each word.

Bucky was on the edge of dozing when the soft click of the door opening barely registered in his foggy mind. He almost didn’t hear Vivian as she slipped into the office thirty minutes later, balancing their takeout bags in one hand.

“Your lunch, Steve,” Vivian whispered with a knowing smile, her gaze flicking to Bucky, who was curled up comfortably in Steve’s lap.

Steve gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks, Viv. Go ahead and take your hour lunch,” he said, his hand still moving rhythmically over Bucky’s back as he wrapped up his phone call. Though he was speaking into the receiver, his attention never fully left the boy nestled against him.

The rich scent of Mexican food began to fill the room, and Bucky stirred slightly, blinking drowsily as the familiar aroma tugged him back from the edge of sleep. He shifted a little, his cheek pressing against Steve’s chest, before he let out a soft yawn, clearly fighting the urge to fall back asleep.

“You smell that, sweetheart?” Steve murmured with a small smile, gently coaxing him awake. "Lunch is here.”

Bucky blinked a few more times, then mumbled, “Mmm, smells good,” his voice thick with sleep as he began to sit up, the warmth and security of Steve’s lap still making it hard to fully wake up.

Steve wrapped up his phone call with a calm, professional goodbye, his voice steady as he hung up the receiver. He glanced down at Bucky, who was softly snoring again, his face pressed against Steve’s chest, his breath warm and slow. Steve couldn’t help but smile fondly, threading his fingers through Bucky’s messy, damp hair, pushing the unruly strands out of his face.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve murmured softly, gently rocking him in his lap. “Time to wake up, baby boy. Lunch is here.”

Bucky made a quiet, groggy sound in response, mumbling something unintelligible as he burrowed deeper into Steve’s chest, reluctant to move. Steve chuckled, his deep laugh vibrating through his chest and against Bucky’s cheek. Without disturbing him too much, Steve leaned over, opening the containers of food that sat on the desk nearby.

The rich, mouthwatering aroma of grilled chicken, warm rice, and creamy queso filled the room, instantly overpowering the scent of the rain lingering in Bucky’s soaked clothes. The smoky fragrance of charred peppers and onions from Steve’s fajita platter blended perfectly with the cheesy goodness wafting up from Bucky’s Pollo a la Playa. Steve’s stomach grumbled in anticipation, and he smiled to himself, glad that he’d ordered something hearty for both of them.

Bucky’s meal looked like pure comfort food—the grilled chicken breast was smothered in a thick, golden layer of cheese sauce that glistened under the overhead light. The rice was a bright, fluffy yellow, nestled beside the chicken, with crispy tortilla chips arranged along the edge of the container, perfect for scooping up the creamy queso that had pooled to one side.

Steve’s own fajitas looked equally tempting—the sizzling pieces of steak and chicken sat on a bed of roasted bell peppers and onions, their smoky, charred edges glistening. He’d skipped the tortillas, of course, because he had to be that person, but the meal still smelled heavenly.

Steve carefully speared a juicy piece of Bucky’s chicken, the melted cheese dripping from the fork. He added a scoop of rice on top, the grains sticking together under the weight of the sauce. Smiling down at Bucky, he held the fork up to his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Come on, baby boy,” Steve coaxed gently, his voice soft and reassuring. “You gotta eat.”

Bucky stirred, blinking sleepily as his eyes slowly opened, still half-lidded and unfocused. He was clearly still out of it, but the smell of the food was enough to pull him from the haze of sleep. He let out a little sigh, then opened his mouth just enough for Steve to slip the fork in. The moment the cheesy, flavorful chicken hit his tongue, Bucky let out a quiet hum of approval, too tired to respond fully but clearly enjoying the taste.

Steve chuckled softly, watching Bucky’s expression shift from groggy to content. He rubbed gentle circles on Bucky’s back with one hand while preparing another bite with the other.

“That’s my good boy,” Steve murmured, holding up the next forkful. “We’ll get you fed, then you can rest some more.”

Bucky gave a slight nod, too sleepy to speak, but the way he relaxed against Steve’s chest said enough.

Steve ended up feeding Bucky half of his food, alternating between bites for himself and offering forkfuls to his still-drowsy boyfriend. Bucky sat quietly, gratefully accepting each bite, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away. After a while, Bucky perked up enough to gently push Steve's hand away.

“I got it,” he muttered softly, still nestled in Steve’s lap. He picked up the fork and began feeding himself, though he stayed exactly where he was, refusing to leave the comfort of Steve’s warmth.

Steve let him settle in, one hand still rubbing slow, soothing circles on Bucky's back. "So, you gonna tell me what happened today?" he asked, his tone casual but full of concern.

Bucky sighed, setting his fork down on the edge of the container. His belly was nearly full, the warmth of the food spreading through him, but now he was left with the weight of his miserable day. He shifted slightly in Steve’s lap, leaning back against the broad chest behind him.

"Missed the ferry this morning," Bucky began, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. "I was so exhausted. I overslept, so I was late to class. Forgot my wallet, too. I left it at Peter’s. Then, my computer crapped out at the library, thanks to a nice, big spill of coffee all over it. And then it started to rain, and the forecast called for clear skies today.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, his hand pausing briefly before resuming its comforting path along Bucky’s spine. "Ah, that’s why you looked like a drowned rat earlier?"

"Yeah," Bucky sighed, his voice full of frustration. "Everything went wrong today."

Steve’s heart softened at the sound of Bucky’s sigh. He pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, his beard brushing against Bucky’s hair. "Sounds like you had a rough day, baby," he murmured. "But it's over now. We’ll get you through this.”

Bucky shifted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He was dry now, warm and full, content in Steve’s lap despite everything. He leaned into the kiss, the steady beat of Steve’s heart beneath his ear calming his frazzled nerves.

“I’ll take you to get a new computer after work," Steve said, his tone firm yet gentle. "Don’t worry about that. We’ll get you set up again.”

Bucky let out a quiet hum of gratitude, the offer taking some of the pressure off his shoulders. “Thanks, Daddy,” he mumbled, his voice soft but genuine.

Steve just smiled, giving Bucky’s back a final rub. "Of course. You don’t need to thank me for that. Just focus on getting through the rest of the day, alright?"

Bucky nodded, biting his lip, the warm, fuzzy feeling of comfort and security spreading through him. He could feel the soft, steady rhythm of Steve’s heartbeat beneath him, the warmth of the food settling into his stomach, and the safety of Steve’s lap enveloping him. The combination was soothing, but it also had an unexpected effect. As he wiggled slightly, adjusting himself on Steve’s lap, he felt a stirring in his jeans that he couldn’t ignore.

He glanced up at Steve through his lashes, his blue eyes half-lidded and soft with a mix of vulnerability and affection. The feeling of Steve’s warmth was intensifying, and he found himself inching closer, trying to find a more comfortable position. The gentle pressure against Steve’s thigh only made him more aware of his body’s reaction.

With a sweet, almost shy smile, Bucky murmured, “Daddy…” His voice was soft and tender, carrying a hint of need and affection.

Steve’s breath hitched slightly at the sound of Bucky’s voice, the way it rolled off his tongue with that particular inflection. He looked down, meeting Bucky’s gaze with a mixture of surprise and affection. He could sense the shift in Bucky’s demeanor and the subtle hint of desire in his eyes.

“Yeah, baby boy?” Steve asked, his voice low and gentle, a hand now resting possessively on Bucky’s hip. His fingers stroked soothingly along the seam of his jeans over his thickening cock. “You feelin’ needy, sweetheart?” Steve’s voice was low and rumbly, filled with a mixture of tenderness and an underlying current of desire.

Bucky’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and he nodded slowly, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he took in Steve’s words. “Uh-huh,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling with a blend of embarrassment and longing.

Steve’s gaze softened with understanding. “Go lock the door, honey,” he instructed, his tone gentle but firm, carrying an unmistakable hint of command.

Bucky shifted reluctantly from Steve’s lap, his movements slightly awkward as he stood up, still feeling the lingering warmth of Steve’s embrace. He padded over to the office door, his wet clothes making soft sounds against the polished floor. His hands trembled slightly as he turned the lock, his mind racing with the anticipation of what was to come.

Once the door was secured, he turned back to Steve, a mix of nervousness and eagerness written across his face. His heart raced as he approached Steve again, ready to embrace the comfort and closeness he craved.

Steve watched Bucky with a blend of affection and anticipation as the younger man returned to the center of the office. The warmth in Steve’s gaze was tempered by a gentle but commanding authority.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Steve said softly, his voice carrying a soothing yet unmistakable edge. Bucky moved closer, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked up at Steve.

“Strip for me, baby,” Steve instructed, his tone gentle but firm, allowing Bucky the space to comply at his own pace. “I want you to feel completely comfortable.”

Bucky’s hands trembled slightly as he began to undo the buttons of his soaked shirt, his fingers moving with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. He met Steve’s gaze with a shy, eager look, his cheeks still flushed with warmth.

As each button came undone, Bucky felt a growing sense of liberation, the weight of his dreadful day dissipating with every inch of skin he bared. His shirt fell open, revealing a slim, well-toned torso that drew a soft, appreciative hum from Steve. Bucky’s breath hitched at the sound, his pulse quickening with each beat.

Steve’s eyes followed every movement, his gaze intense yet tender. “That’s it, baby boy,” he murmured encouragingly as Bucky slipped the shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “You’re doing so well.”

Encouraged by Steve’s gentle tone, Bucky reached for the waistband of his jeans. The metal of the button seemed unusually cold against his thumb, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through him as he noticed Steve’s attentive stare. Slowly, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down along with his underwear, revealing more of himself to Steve.

Now standing in nothing but his skin, Bucky felt both exposed and exhilarated. The cool air of the office brushed against his bare body, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. His eyes remained locked with Steve's, seeking reassurance and finding it in the warm approval that glowed there.

Steve’s voice was a soft growl of appreciation as he surveyed Bucky's figure. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice heavy with admiration and desire. He patted his lap invitingly. "Come back here, baby."

Bucky moved forward, the carpet muffling his steps as he returned to Steve’s embrace. His nakedness against Steve's clothed form created a thrilling contrast of textures, and Bucky shivered with pleasure as he resettled onto Steve's lap, feeling the fabric of Steve’s slacks against his own bare skin.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him close, chest to back, enveloping him in warmth and strength. His hands roamed over Bucky’s

sides and chest, tracing lines and patterns that made Bucky's breath catch in his throat. The safety and affection in Steve’s touch reassured him, even as his body responded with growing need.

“There, settled?” Steve’s voice was close to Bucky's ear, a warm breath tickling him. His words were simple, but they carried the weight of their bond, grounding and calming Bucky amidst the storm of emotions.

Bucky nodded against Steve’s shoulder, his arms coming up to wrap around Steve's neck. “Yes, Daddy,” he whispered back, allowing all the tension to drain from his body.

Steve’s hand drifted lower, exploring the curve of Bucky’s hip before gripping firmly, anchoring him in place. The other hand continued its soothing motions across Bucky’s chest and stomach, each touch stoking the fire that was building within him.

“Good boy,” Steve murmured approvingly, feeling Bucky melt under his touch.

With deliberate slowness, Steve’s hands continued their exploration, now sliding down to caress Bucky’s thighs. His touches were like sparks, igniting flames along paths they traced. Bucky shuddered, his hips unconsciously seeking more contact, more of Steve’s warmth.

Steve obliged, his grip tightening just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through Bucky’s body. His other hand ventured upward again, teasing across Bucky’s chest and pinching a nipple gently between thumb and forefinger, eliciting a gasp from Bucky that filled the room with a charged atmosphere. Steve's fingers tweaked the sensitive bud a bit more firmly, drawing out a low moan from Bucky, his body arching instinctively into the touch.

"Sensitive here, aren't you, baby?" Steve murmured, voice laced with both amusement and deep arousal as he watched Bucky react to his ministrations.

"Yes, Daddy..." Bucky managed to get out, his voice breathy and laden with desire. His eyes fluttered shut as he surrendered to the sensations, trusting Steve to lead them through this intimate dance.

Steve’s smile was tender yet wicked as he continued his exploration, now tracing a finger down the center of Bucky’s chest and belly, stopping just above his groin. The anticipation built like electricity in the air between them, palpable and buzzing.

"Want more?" Steve asked though it was less of a question and more a confirmation of what he already knew.

Bucky nodded vigorously, his eagerness clear. "Please, Daddy."

Steve's eyes darkened with desire at the plea, his hands now moving with more purpose. He traced light circles around Bucky’s navel, then lower still, until his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin near Bucky’s groin. Bucky gasped, his body tightening in anticipation of further touch.

"Tell me what you need," Steve said, his voice a commanding rumble that vibrated through Bucky.

"I need you, Daddy," Bucky admitted, his voice thick with urgency. "Please touch me."

Steve nodded approvingly at the honest plea, his fingertip finally grazing the tip of Bucky's erection. Bucky shuddered, a low moan escaping him as Steve’s touch promised relief from the building pressure.

Slowly, Steve encircled Bucky’s length with his fingers, grip firm and sure. He began to stroke him gently at first, gauging Bucky’s reactions as he adjusted the pressure and pace according to the soft whimpers and sharp intakes of breath that Bucky offered in response. Each movement was measured and purposeful, drawing out the tension and pleasure coiling within Bucky.

"You're doing so well for me," Steve whispered his voice a soothing balm as he continued to stoke the fire within Bucky. His thumb brushed over the sensitive head with each pass, eliciting small cries from Bucky that filled the quiet office with an intimate symphony.

Bucky's hands clutched at Steve’s shoulders, his grip tightening as waves of pleasure washed over him. The world narrowed down to the sensation of Steve’s hands on him and the comforting weight of Steve’s presence beneath him. No other thoughts persisted; there was only here and now and the overwhelming tide of pleasure that Steve orchestrated with expert hands.

"More," Bucky pleaded breathlessly, caught in the throes of building ecstasy. "Please, Daddy."

Steve increased the pace, his strokes becoming more insistent and firm. Bucky arched into the touch, his body responding eagerly to the relentless rhythm set by Steve. The room was filled with the sound of his labored breathing and the soft noises of pleasure that spilled from his lips.

With a deep, guttural moan, Bucky ground his hips against Steve's lap, feeling the heat and hardness of the older man's cock pressing firmly against his plump ass. A desperate whine escaped his lips as he arched his back, craving more of Steve's touch. "D-daddy," he whimpered, his voice needy and pleading. "I want your cock," he begged, his body trembling with desire.

Steve's breath hitched at the raw urgency in Bucky’s plea, his own desire flaring hotter in response. "You want that, baby? You want to feel me inside you?" His voice was deep and rough with his own need, yet he maintained the control and steadiness that Bucky relied on.

"Yes, please, Daddy, I need it," Bucky breathed out, his eyes glassy with desire and trust as he looked up into Steve's face.

With a gentle but firm grip, Steve eased Bucky off his lap, guiding him to stand before him. His hands were tender as they roamed over Bucky’s body, squeezing his hips reassuringly before gently turning him around. "Bend over the desk for me," Steve instructed softly, giving Bucky a light pat on the hip to nudge him into position.

Bucky complied eagerly, bending over the sturdy oak desk that had witnessed many of their private moments. The cool wood pressed against his heated skin, sending a shiver through his body. He rested his chest and cheek against the smooth surface, turning his head to look back at Steve with anticipation gleaming in his eyes.

“Fuck,” Steve growled, his hands gripping Bucky's ass with bruising force. He spread the younger man's cheeks apart; his eyes fixated on the puckered entrance of Bucky's body. “Jesus Christ, baby boy,” he muttered, tracing a thick finger along Bucky's sensitive rim and eliciting a guttural moan from him.

Steve flings open his top desk drawer, revealing a half-empty bottle of lube. The snick of the bottle cap echoes through the room, sending shivers down Bucky's spine. As the cold drizzle of lube hits his heated rim, Bucky's toes curl, and his back arches, a guttural moan escaping his lips. A rush of pleasure courses through him as Steve's touch ignites a fiery sensation within him.

"You know the rules, Buck," Steve's voice is low and dangerous as his pointer finger circles relentlessly over Bucky's quivering entrance. The sharp sting of Steve's hand on his ass makes Bucky gasp, his body arching in response.

"I'm talking to you," Steve snaps, grabbing a handful of Bucky's hair and yanking him back. Bucky moans, feeling a mixture of pain and pleasure shot through his body.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he manages to whimper out.

"You don't get to cum yet," Steve growls, pressing his finger harder against Bucky's fluttering hole. "Not until Daddy's cock is buried deep inside you."

Bucky can feel the pressure building in his body, the desperate need to release, but he knows better than to disobey Daddy's orders. He nods vigorously, his face flushed with the intensity of his desire and the effort to obey. "Yes, Daddy."

Steve nods slightly, satisfied by Bucky's submission. He applies more lube, slicking his fingers thoroughly before easing one inside Bucky. He watches intently as Bucky's body relaxes slowly to accommodate him, a low groan of approval escaping his lips at the feeling of being filled.

"Good boy," Steve praises softly, his voice steady and calm even as his own body aches with need. He begins to move his finger slowly, preparing Bucky with patience and care, adding a second finger only when he feels Bucky relax under his touch.

Bucky's breath hitches as Steve finds just the right angle, pressing against that spot inside him that makes his entire body jolt with pleasure. "D-daddy," he stammers out, pushing back against Steve’s fingers, seeking more of that overwhelming sensation.

"I've got you," murmurs Steve, his voice thick with arousal as he works his fingers deeper, stretching and preparing Bucky meticulously for what's to come. The slow, deliberate pace he sets is maddening but necessary, building anticipation to an almost unbearable pitch.

Bucky moans loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the office. Each thrust of Steve’s fingers sends waves of pleasure crashing through him. "Please, Daddy," he begs again, his voice breaking with need.

"Almost there, baby," Steve reassures him, slipping a third finger inside. The stretch is more intense now, burning slightly but overwhelmingly good. Bucky pushes back against him, desperate to take more.

Steve leans down over Bucky’s back, his breath hot against his ear. "You’re doing so well for me," he murmurs, his voice laced with pride and desire. "Just a little more."

With his free hand, Steve reaches around to grasp Bucky’s throbbing erection, stroking him in time with the slow, deliberate pace of his fingers. The dual sensations send Bucky teetering on the edge of oblivion; his entire focus narrowed to the feeling of Steve's fingers inside him and around him.

"Steve… Daddy, please," Bucky gasps out, his voice desperate and thick with arousal. "I can't hold on much longer."

"Hold on for me, baby boy," Steve responds firmly, the authority in his voice making Bucky shudder with a mix of compliance and anticipation. He quickens the pace slightly, his fingers stroking deeper and harder, pushing Bucky closer to the brink.

The room is heavy with the scent of their arousal, the only sounds being Bucky's desperate moans and the slick, rhythmic movement of Steve's fingers. Steve watches Bucky’s every reaction, from the way his back arches to meet each thrust to the biting of his lip in an effort to stifle his cries.

"You're so good, baby. So perfect," Steve coos, his voice a mixture of admiration and lust as he continues to work his fingers inside Bucky, feeling him clench around them. "That's it, just like that."

Bucky's hands clench into fists against the desk, his knuckles whitening with the effort to hold back, to obey Steve's command. The pleasure is almost too much, overwhelming in its intensity, and he feels on the edge of something monumental.

Then, without warning, Steve pulls his fingers free, leaving Bucky feeling suddenly empty but tingling with anticipation. He hears the sound of Steve unbuckling his belt, the metallic clink thrillingly ominous. A rush of desire floods Bucky's system as he hears the fabric of Steve’s trousers rustle as they drop to the floor.

Steve's body is tense with arousal as he sits in his chair, his hand wrapped tightly around his throbbing, flushed cock. It feels like steel in his grasp, ready to pound and ravage. He groans at the sight of his boy, bent over his desk, presenting himself to Steve.

"Come here, baby," Steve husks, his voice thick with primal desire.

Bucky stands up straight, turning to climb onto Steve's lap, but he is stopped by the older man's strong grip on his waist.

"Turn around for me, baby," Steve commands, his eyes blazing with lust. Bucky obeys, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness as Steve arranges him so that his back is to him. Steve's hand is still slick from stroking himself, and he grips Bucky's hip firmly as he guides him back towards him. Bucky can feel Steve's hot breath on his neck, and it only adds to the intense sensation that is building within him.

Steve positions Bucky carefully, ensuring that he is perfectly aligned. With one hand steadying Bucky at the hip, Steve uses the other to guide his eager, pulsing member to the place where they both needed it most. He positions himself at Bucky's entrance, the head of his cock pressing insistently against him. Bucky takes a deep breath, grounding himself in the sensation, preparing for the stretch and fill that he both dreads and craves.

"Ready, baby boy?" Steve's voice is heavy with desire, a gentle rumble against the charged silence of the room.

Bucky nods, his breath hitched in his throat, unable to trust his voice. He pushes back slightly, signaling his readiness and eagerness—a silent plea for relief from the throbbing need within him.

Bucky lets out a guttural moan as the thick head of Steve's cock presses against his burning rim, stretching it to its limits. He bites down on his lip hard enough to taste blood, bracing himself for the inevitable intrusion. Steve's finger trails teasingly over his sensitive rim, igniting a burning fire within Bucky's body.

"That's it, sweet baby," Steve purrs, his thumb caressing Bucky's hip in soothing circles. "Open up for your Daddy." With each word, the pressure against Bucky's entrance increases, and he can feel himself stretching and readying for what's to come. "Let me in, my beautiful boy," Steve growls in Bucky's ear, sending a thrill of both pleasure and fear through him.

Bucky's response is a ragged breath, his body trembling as he feels the first breach. The intrusion is slow but relentless, Steve taking every care to ensure it’s bearable, even as it overwhelms Bucky with its intensity.

“Daddy,” he gasps, his fingers clawing desperately into the leather armrests of Steve's desk chair. Beads of sweat form on his forehead as he tries to hold back tears, but the pain in his chest is too much. He can feel his heart racing, and he struggles to catch his breath as he pleads for mercy. He feels himself being filled, stretched, claimed in a way that sends his senses reeling and his mind blanking out everything but the sensation of being utterly possessed by Steve.

"Good boy... so good for me," Steve murmurs as he carefully sinks in deeper, his voice a steady stream of praise and encouragement.

With each slow, deliberate movement, Steve's presence inside him becomes more pronounced, the feeling so intense that Bucky's thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. The pain of the initial stretch fades into a dull throb, overtaken by a surge of pleasure that courses through his veins like wildfire.

"You can take it, baby. I know you can," Steve breathes out, his hand moving from Bucky's hip to caress his flushed cheek. He turns Bucky’s face towards him, capturing his lips in a deep, possessive kiss that steals the breath from both of them.

As Steve's massive cock plunges deep into Bucky's searingly hot hole, Bucky gasps for air and arches his back, surrendering to the sensations coursing through his body. Steve's lips rain down kisses on Bucky's neck, igniting a fire within him that threatens to consume them both.

Bucky lets out a strangled moan as Steve adjusts himself inside him, stretching him to his limits with his monstrous horse cock. He can feel every inch of it filling him up, claiming him as his own. With each thrust, Bucky's knees are forced over Steve's forearms while his strong fingers grip onto Bucky's inner thighs, his feet perched on either on Steve’s massive thighs, he’s holding Bucky open, making him feel vulnerable.

Despite the intense pleasure surging through him, Bucky can't help but blush deeply at how exposed he is, his body trembling and slick with sweat. He knows he must look like a mess, but in this moment, with Steve taking him so completely, he couldn't care less. All that matters is the overwhelming desire coursing between them and the undeniable love they share.

Steve adjusts his grip, tilting Bucky's hips just so, finding that angle that makes Bucky cry out—a sharp, keening sound that fills the room. "There, baby. Right there," Steve murmurs, his voice low and triumphant as he hits that spot again relentlessly.

"Steve—Daddy!" Bucky's voice breaks on the word, tears of pleasure-spiked pain and overwhelming emotion leaking from his eyes. He feels broken open, remade under Steve's careful ministrations. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure radiating through him, building a pressure that threatens to undo him completely.

Steve's hot breath tickles Bucky's ear as he leans in closer, his voice a commanding whisper. "Let go for me, baby boy. I've got you," he growls, his thrusts becoming more urgent and intense with each passing second. Bucky can feel the release building inside him, just on the edge of exploding. "Show daddy how good you are at making that pretty cock bounce," Steve demands, his words sending shivers down Bucky's spine as he obeys with ferocious determination.

Bucky's fingers dig into the leather with a vice-like grip, his toes curling against Steve's thighs as he uses every ounce of strength in his core to ride the massive cock impaling him. He thanks the heavens for his rigorous gym routine as he bounces up and down on the massive cock pounding into his insatiable ass. The heat and pleasure coursing through his body is almost too much to bear, but he grits his teeth and bounces up and down with determination.

"That's it, baby," Steve groans, his eyes fixated on Bucky's flushed face and bobbing cock with each thrust. "Look at you, honey."

"Ngh," Bucky moans.

The sounds of their bodies colliding fill the room, the wet slap of his cock against his stomach mixing with Bucky's grunts and Steve's groans of ecstasy. Bucky can feel himself losing control, the coil of release tightening in his gut as he rides higher and higher toward climax. He can barely hear Steve's encouraging words over the pounding of his own heart, but it only adds fuel to the fire burning within him.

Mercifully, Steve takes pity on him and begins to meet his thrusts with an animalistic ferocity. He plunges into him with unbridled force; each thrust driving deeper and harder until they merge into one being, consumed by their primal desires.

As the pace quickens, Steve's grip tightens, and Bucky's breath becomes more ragged and desperate. His world narrows to the feel of Steve inside him, the powerful strokes that drive into him relentlessly. Every nerve ending screams with a mixture of pain and pleasure, blurring into a sensation so overwhelming it borders on transcendental.

Steve's voice, once smooth and controlling, now carries a ragged edge of need that matches Bucky's own. "Come for me, baby," Steve commands, his hand snaking around to grasp Bucky’s throbbing cock firmly. "Let me see you lose yourself."

With a strangled cry, Bucky feels the dam break within him. His body tightens around Steve like a vice, pulsating with every thrust as he spills himself over Steve's sinewy hand and onto his own heaving stomach. The release is cataclysmic, ripples of pleasure tearing through him as he rides out the waves with loud, broken cries. His entire being is alight, every cell singing with the release as Steve continues to thrust into him, prolonging the aftershocks that ripple through Bucky's sensitive body.

Steve's own groans grow louder and more urgent, and with a few final, deep thrusts, he finds his release. He buries himself deep inside Bucky, his body shuddering against him as he pours himself into the heat of his boy’s body. Panting hard, he collapses back into his chair.

Steve strokes Bucky's damp hair back from his face, his touch gentle after the storm of their passion. He leans down to plant a soft kiss on Bucky’s forehead, murmuring soothing words that blend into the heavy breathing filling the room.

“You did so well, my boy,” Steve whispers, pride and love evident in his voice. The tenderness in his tone is a stark contrast to the commanding growls that had echoed earlier. He carefully shifts them, mindful of Bucky’s spent body, easing him off his lap and onto a more comfortable sitting position beside him.

Bucky leans against Steve, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder, feeling drained yet enveloped in a sense of complete contentment. The harsh panting slowly subsides into steady breathing as they both come down from the high of their climax.

Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky, drawing him close and grounding him with his comforting presence. The two sat in peaceful silence, their breathing in sync as the soft hum of the building’s heating system filled the quiet. Steve’s warmth provided Bucky with a sense of calm, but after a while, Bucky began to shift uncomfortably.

Noticing his fidgeting, Steve chuckled softly and reached into the bottom drawer of his desk, retrieving a package of sensitive baby wipes. “You seem a little restless, sweetheart,” he teased, his tone gentle and affectionate. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Bucky murmured with a small, relieved smile as Steve began to clean him up. The cool wipes soothed his skin, and Steve’s touch was tender, each movement deliberate and caring, ensuring Bucky’s comfort.

Once they were both cleaned up and the leftovers disposed of, Steve kissed Bucky softly, brushing his lips against his forehead. “Why don’t you settle in for a bit? I’ve got a few more hours of work to finish.”

He handed Bucky his phone and wallet. “Look at some computers while you wait.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Bucky said, nodding. He stood on his tiptoes to give Steve a quick kiss before heading over to unlock the office door. He padded over to the couch and curled up comfortably, pulling up the Apple Store website and scrolling through the latest models. The day might have started out rough, but as Bucky relaxed with Steve nearby, he could feel his luck beginning to change. He was lucky to have such a wonderful Daddy.

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