[a day late but i was up to shenanigans yesterday so have a fill for @bottombuckyweek2025 day 4: impact, praise, AND swallow! part of dctctcverse, post-war, pure filth 😇] "Think you deserve it?"
"Yes," Bucky pants, broad chest rising and falling, on display thanks to Buck pinning his arms where they're crossed at the small of Bucky's back, Buck's knees bracketing Bucky's hips from behind.
Curt stands between Bucky's knees at the edge of the mattress and hums. "Tell me why."
Bucky swallows, eyes screwed shut. "I—got off in the shower alone, got sloppy at the bar, mouthed off yesterday—"
"Mm," Curt hums again, considering, traces his thumb along Bucky's wet bottom lip and cuts off the flood. Bucky's mouth drops open at the barest amount of pressure, and Curt slides his thumb in, presses it down on Bucky's tongue. He's so good, just takes it, some of the tension seeping out of his face as he closes his mouth around the digit. "What d'you think, Buck?"
Buck hums too, but doesn't look up, which would usually earn him a slap, if just a light one to get his attention. For now it's okay, seeing as he's got his nose buried in Bucky's sweat-mussed curls, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses to the line of his shoulder. "Doesn't sound all that outta the ordinary to me," he murmurs into Bucky's skin. His other hand moves slow on Bucky's dick, where he's been holding him on the edge for twenty minutes at least.
"Me neither," Curt replies, lazy, like the heat of Bucky's mouth around his thumb isn't making him twitch in his shorts. Bucky makes a noise, protesting, and Curt just shoves his thumb in deeper, waits for Bucky to start sucking.
"You do deserve it, though," he adds, and Bucky goes lax in Buck's grip, moans around the digit like it's a relief. Curt lets him suck once, twice more, then pulls his thumb out to smear spit along his cheek. Bucky turns his head to chase it, but Buck keeps him steady even when he whines once Curt's hand is out of reach. "Ask me why."
The "why" that falls out of Bucky's mouth is agonized, halfway a sob, and Curt can't help but lean down to kiss him. Tangles his fingers in Bucky's curls to keep him still while Curt fucks his dropped-open mouth with his tongue.
"'Cause you want it, and you're mine," Curt growls into his mouth, and Bucky whimpers. "And my boys deserve everything they want." He straightens up, keeps a hold of Bucky's hair. "Ask again."
"Please, Curt, please, I want it—"
The slap of his open palm against Bucky's cheek is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the moan that rips out of Bucky's chest. He sags in their hold, and Buck lets go of his cock to wrap his arm around Bucky's waist instead. "Easy, John," he murmurs, mouth still pressed to Bucky's shoulder. "Don't pop that socket."
Curt can't help the snort at the thought of trying to explain just how Bucky's bad shoulder got dislocated again to a bunch of nurses. But he shakes it off as Bucky straightens back up and leans back on Buck's chest. "Again?"
Bucky swallows, head tilted into the hand Curt's still got twisted in his hair. He nods, and follows it up with another "please" before Curt can tell him he needs words.
"Atta boy," Curt murmurs, low and pleased. Bucky shivers. He's got that hazy look, the one that says he's floating, brain turned off. Curt catches Buck's eye and tips his chin down, waits for Buck to start jacking Bucky again and times the hit to the upward stroke of Buck's fist.
Bucky's head turns with it, another groan snapping out of him as his hips snap up into Buck's hand. Curt watches his eyelashes flutter, all clumped together from the tears he hasn't let spill over just yet. Can't help but press his thumb to the corner of Bucky's eye, wipe them away.
"You take it so pretty, sweetheart," he says just to watch Bucky shudder. Sometimes he argues with the praise, but he's deep enough now not to. Instead he just bites his lip, eyes slipping closed.
Behind him, Buck hums his agreement, setting his teeth to Bucky's shoulder and sucking a mark into the flushed skin. "What was on your mind in the shower, darlin'?" he murmurs against Bucky's skin, slowing the motion of his hand so Bucky can string two thoughts together to reply.
It takes him a minute, but he gets there. "This," he pants, eyes still squeezed shut. "How t'get it."
"You know how, baby," Curt says, gentling his grip on Bucky's curls and brushing away the tears flowing freer now. "Just gotta ask, and we'll take care of you."
Buck nods, nose brushing Bucky's jaw, and adds, "We wanna."
Bucky's breathing stutters as he turns his face into Curt's hand. He can hide while he chews on that—he's heard it before, but sometimes he needs reminding, that he can have what he wants even if his head tells him he can't, or that he shouldn't want it in the first place. That the two of them love him enough to figure out what he needs and how to give it to him without anyone getting hurt, inside or out.
They've all had enough of that already.
Bucky opens his mouth against Curt's palm, breathes wet and warm. "Please."
Curt has to swallow hard. He brushes his knuckles over the red blooming on Bucky's left cheek, feels the heat of his blood thrumming under the skin. Hot, but not too hot. The right's flushed too, except for the thin line of white scarring ringing Bucky's orbital. No jostling that side of his skull, not even if Bucky begged. And he's tried it. But he knows better about that too, now.
Bucky shudders again, a needy noise hitching in his throat, but he leans into the touch. That decides it for Curt. "One more," he says, and raises his voice over Bucky's responding whimper, "so finish him off, Buck."
"Yessir," Buck rumbles, before he speeds his strokes up. Bucky tips his face up, expectant, but there's nothing hurried or anxious in his expression. He looks calm, steady. Gorgeous, even with tears tracking down his cheeks. Like a statue in church, one of the saints enraptured. Beatific.
Curt's palm stings when he lands the slap, but it's not important. Bucky's mouth dropping open on a moan, the trembling in his thighs, the relief coloring his face as he comes over Buck's fist—that's what matters. Curt cradles his skull as he shakes through it, hand caught between Bucky's head and Buck's shoulder, and something in him settles, a key sliding home in a lock.
"Perfect, Bucky, you did so good," he breathes, planting his palm on Bucky's broad thigh and leaning in to brush his mouth against Bucky's, before dragging his lips across the bright red of his cheek. Bucky moans, weak and worn out, but doesn't flinch away or tell him to stop. "Always so good for us, huh?"
"Took it so well," Buck says, letting go of Bucky's wrists to curl his arm around Bucky's waist again, back to nosing at Bucky's hair, kissing his neck. Bucky leans into it, reaching forward and back to tangle his fingers in both their hair, still shuddering like a leaf in a storm.
He doesn't have to pull either of them in 'cause they're already there, Curt's knee up on the mattress between Bucky's thighs, Buck pressed even tighter against Bucky's back. Curt might've worried about it being too much, the both of them leaning heavy on Bucky while he's still catching his breath, but by now he's pretty sure Bucky'd drag them both on top of him any chance he got, pressing him into the mattress or the wall or the floor, as long as it meant he kept them close.
Buck's usually the first to disentangle himself, and that's what Curt assumes he's doing when he shifts. This time, though, he just brings his hand coated in Bucky's come up and drags his tongue over his fingers, slow and wet, and lifts his brows at Curt when he catches him staring.
"Share," Curt says without thinking, and wraps his fingers around Buck's wrist, tugs Buck's hand to his mouth and does the same, swallows and grins when Bucky's chest heaves against his with a gasp.
"God."
"Nah," Curt replies, "just us."
Buck snorts, and it lights Curt up, the both of them curled into each other and into him, exactly where they belong. He and Buck still have to get theirs, but like the sting in Curt's palm, it's not important compared to the flush on Bucky's face, crawling down his chest. The brightness of his eyes as he looks back and forth between the two of them.
"Come here," he blurts out, moving all at once, nudging Buck further on the mattress behind him, pulling Curt with him. They tumble back into a mess of limbs, legs tangled together, Bucky murmuring, "Come here, let me—" against Curt's mouth, then Buck's, pressing his thigh up between Curt's and his ass back against Buck.
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Curt gets out, and means it more than anything else he's ever promised in his whole life.
