How they'd gone from Dick saying the cereal milk ice-cream Bucky had got him tasted like come, to having Dick on his knees in front of Bucky -- well, Bucky wasn't sure how that happened, exactly, but here he was, leaning back on the couch, trying to keep his breathing even. His metal arm made fluffy shreds out of the cushions, while its flesh-and-blood mate threaded through Dick's silky black hair, guiding the other man into some semblance of a rhythm over his cock.
Apparently Dick owed him one for the ice-cream, or something.
Really, Bucky thought, as Dick did some swirly thing with his rough tongue on the head that had to be illegal in several states, he would have been happy with just pancakes. Dick made a mean stack -- apparently Batman's butler had taught him a thing or two about cooking breakfast, on top of supplying him with a home-made, secret recipe syrup that had won even Nat over -- except Dick hardly ever utilised his talents and preferred to content himself with a bowl of sugary cereal and cold milk, instead.
Or, apparently, to clench his hands into Bucky's hips, hollow his cheeks out and suck like he enjoyed the feel of Bucky's thick, hard length on his tongue, like --
Bucky bit down on a curse, and then a groan, and had to keep himself from clawing Dick's scalp bloody. It wasn't fair to complain about the lack of pancakes. After all, this was for -- for scientific purposes. Dick, being a good little Bat-detective and all, had needed to test out his theory and Bucky could hardly leave his fellow ex-sidekick in the lurch. The reasonable thing to do was volunteer himself. Yep. To provide a sample and... maybe assist in getting one from Dick later, if necessary.
Or something. Bucky couldn't really think about it clearly while Dick's warm mouth, still sticky from the ice-cream, bobbed up and down his erection. Blowing steamy breaths and lapping up and down in what could only be described as a Bat-like determination that would make Bruce proud. Not that Dick's grim and stubborn mentor would ever hear about any of this, because even the Winter Soldier knew better than to piss the Batman off.
And on that note:
"Definitely a good thing we didn't invite Nat or Steph to this particular sidekicks' breakfast," Bucky said out loud, though even to his own ears, his voice seemed to waver. The air seemed to vibrate with suppressed tension; thrumming in his blood, right down to the hot wetness of Dick's mouth between his thighs.
Dick made a rumbling sort of noise in his chest, probably as much of a laugh as he could manage while doing what he was -- and his bright blue eyes, when they rolled up to look at Bucky, glittered the way they did every time he flashed one of those megawatt Nightwing smiles. Yeah, Bucky thought vaguely with a shiver, as Dick pulled him in deeper, right into the hot recess of his throat, definitely better not to mention any of this to Batman.
"Dick--" With a note of warning his voice, barely pushing the word out -- it was hard when Dick had taken him so far in that the tip of his nose brushed right up against Bucky's navel, almost tickling it. Bucky was just barely managing to keep from thrusting in; his heart seemed to pound harder with the effort of holding himself back. It was difficult to think of anything other than the incredible heat and wet friction around his cock, Dick's strong hands on his hips, the musky smell of their mingled arousal strong around them. Bucky wasn't sure if he enjoyed that feeling of losing control, or if he was terrified that something of his old programming would kick in, and he had to shove a little at Dick's hair, urging him to disengage.
And Dick did pull away somewhat, with an obscene slurping noise that had to have been unnecessary. Except he didn't so much let go as dig his fingers further into Bucky's skin and suck harder at the throbbing, sensitive head of Bucky's cock.
It was too much -- Bucky couldn't keep himself from making a strangled sound as he came, still in Dick's mouth, eyes falling tightly shut. As he forced them open again, he could see and feel Dick pulling away. His full mouth was bruised and red and covered in a mix of saliva and residual ice-cream and come that made for strangely arousing sight. Bucky shuddered, the intense pleasure of his orgasm still rippling its way down his spine and right to his finger tips.
"What's the verdict?" he managed to ask, somewhat shaky and breathless.
Swallowing loudly, Dick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yep," he said, his voice hoarse but smug. "Cereal milk ice-cream tastes like come." His lips twisted into a crooked grin. "Or like yours, anyway."
Something about the way he said it -- a lingering heat in his words, maybe -- made Bucky's heart skip a few beats. He clamped his robotic arm around Dick's, pulling him up for a bruising kiss to try and wipe that irritating grin off. He'd only had the smallest lick of the cereal milk ice-cream earlier, since Dick had demolished most of it, but as he tasted himself in Dick's mouth, Bucky thought he could see the similarity. Sweet, creamy. Or maybe some of that was just Dick. All neat flips and golden smiles all the time, same as when they were kids starting out, where Bucky had proven to be full of hard lines and bitterness.
When they broke apart with a loud smack, a string of saliva still connected their wet mouths. It was filthy and heady and made Bucky tighten his grip over Dick's arm. "Your turn, green pants."
Dick let himself be dragged up onto the couch. "I can't exactly taste myself if you're the one-- oh--" as Bucky pushed him onto his back, and straddled his hips, before pulling down his jeans and boxer briefs.
"You need another sample," he said, smirking as he gripped Dick's cock firmly, eliciting a very satisfying gasp from the other man. "And I want pancakes."
