cicatrize | Duplicity IC Inbox [ un: jbenjamin ]

Duplicity IC Inbox [ un: jbenjamin ]

you've reached jack benjamin. clearly, I have better things to do.

audio ○ text ○ video ○ spam etc

[ wow, that actually worked. well that's much easier than kid gloves, and jack smirks against steve's ear, before pressing a too sweet, too light kiss to be really sincere against steve's cheekbone (see: the single kiss jack ever gives rose benjamin). the arm wrapped over steve's neck loosens, and instead, he gets a slightly too sharp pat against his cheek. ]

Good boy.

[ he hand in his hair releases as well, sweeping down to cup under steve's chin instead, tilting his head far enough back that jack can watch him closely, eyes impassive, only a vague smirk on his lips. yeah, this'll be fun.

more tugging steve's face in than leaning over himself, jack captures steve's lips, kissing him slow and languid, but with a bite to it, teeth sinking in against the fullness of his lip, like testing the give of the skin, before he pulls back and away. actually away - he pushes up from the couch, and meanders off to the front door, setting the lock. nobody needs to be wandering in on this later. ]

Wait there. I'll be back.

❰ it's an uncomfortable way to kiss someone, to be sure — steve's at an awkward angle, he has to elongate his neck in order to reach jack's lips and that stretches his muscles in such a way moving his jaw is kind of difficult — but steve sort of likes it that way. his spine is still zinging slightly from the frisson of electricity that went through him at jack's sarcastic "good boy", and he lets jack do whatever he wants, move him however he needs — it's different than it was with bucky, more deliberate, but steve's finding he can enjoy that too. he's choosing this, rather than being swept away by it. maybe jack can push him into subspace, maybe he can't, but it feels good to reclaim his own body by choosing to cede control of it.

jack gets up and walks off and it knocks steve off balance, tipping him gracelessly onto his side. he likes that too, he thinks, the way his comfort seems to have turned into an afterthought for jack. steve pushes himself back up to sitting and raises an eyebrow at jack, but does as directed and remains seated on the couch. he only moves to take another sip from his glass — it's still half-full by the time jack returns, and steve is only barely beginning to feel a buzz. ❱

Do you have any limits I should know about, things you don't want me doing? ❰ he calls, twisting around in his seat to try to see where jack's gone. ❱

[ playing dominant may not be the most emotionally fulfilling thing for jack, but god it's fun. he catches steve toppling over out of the corner of his eyes (doesn't look back, that's not the game, and it's not what steve needs). this is basically a gift dropped in his lap, able to help out steve while indulging his less wholesome side, and getting to touch that body in the process. yeah, seems about like his birthday.

as he rummages around in another room, he calls back his answer - ] Follow directions. Don't break anything. That's really it.

[ there isn't much steve can do to him with this kind of set up, jack thinks, and he doesn't plan on giving steve much room for freedom besides. he considers telling him to stay quiet, but he likes steve talking right now. considers making a 'sir' protocol, but that's a little much, and they aren't here for what that kind of thing fulfills. steve needs a good, solid push, and jack's thinking he knows how to make that happen.

when jack comes wandering back into the living room, still dressed entirely in his suit from work, he's whistling the tune from Kill Bill, and flipping a hammer in one hand, end over end, a fairly large nail in the other hand. ]

Don't worry, it's not for you. [ every word that drips form his lips seems to come with some level of amused mocking or sarcasm. at least, every word that isn't a command. these are flat, simple, leaves no room for argument, nothing about them sounding like suggestions. the wooden haft of the hammer taps at the top of Steve's shoulder as jack passes by, on the way to the wall. ] Strip.

❰ that image — jack walking out with a hammer and nail, whistling a jaunty tune, is enough to make steve laugh, popping the tension that remained in the room like a balloon. he's still grinning as jack reassures him, but the smile falls somewhat at the command.

it takes a moment for steve to begin to comply, but eventually he sits forward, unlaces his shoes, begins to pull them off. he strips slowly, giving jack time to do whatever it is he's doing and join him, kicking his shoes to the side and starting on his belt. he doesn't hesitate on his shirt, only pauses a second before shoving down his pants and underwear at the same time — he used plenty communal showers in the war, that this nudity is happening in a different context only makes him nervous for a second. once he's bare, he turns to look at jack, hands on his hips, eyebrow raised.

well? did he do good? when are you getting undressed, jack? ❱

[ surprise, booboo. he's not. :')

as steve's stripping down, jack's clearing out space next to a wall, suit jacket shrugged off and tossed on a nearby chair for the sake of movement, then standing up close to the wall, raising a hand, let's see, Steve's about 3 inches taller than him, then if you push up on your toes... yep, should be right here. great - that's where the nail goes in, and jack hammers it in, leaving about three or four inches of the it still exposed, whistling as he works. by the time he's done, steve's zipper sounds, and jack turns just in time to see his pants hit the floor.

god in motherfucking heaven, it should be criminal to be this gorgeous. of course, none of that shows on jack's face, just an arched brow over assessing eyes, as he glances over him, pacing closer as he idly swings the hammer in one hand. jack doesn't look over his face - he knows what steve's face looks like. he's inspecting his body, as he paces a slow circle around him, ringed hand reaching out to brush against steve's abs, down to his hips, entirely bypassing his cock as he lets the touch fall away, circling around to his back. ]

Well that's entirely unfair. [ steve has the ass of a chiseled marble statue, and what jack wouldn't give to bend him over the couch and rail him, but that ass is bucky's, and that's just so painful knowing it's right there. ] Big brother gets all the best toys, doesn't he?

[ that said just before a loud smack rings out in the apartment, jack's hand slapping hard against the firm muscle of steve's ass, enough that a reddish-pink shadow is left in the wake of it. no one said he couldn't touch, right? so, yes steve, you did good. finishing his inspection, jack comes back around to steve's front, hands pulling at the knot of his tie as he gives another command. ]

Hands. [ give them. they're his now. for the next however long they're doing this. ]

❰ so here's the thing.

ever since steve got the serum, people have been looking at him as an object. phillips wanted him sent to a lab to be studied, brandt wanted him to be a walking bonds advertisement, fury wanted him to be a weapon to be pointed at shield's enemies, tony wanted him to be a whipping boy for his daddy issues — everyone wants him to be something other than what he is. something inhuman, untouchable, both more and less than all of them at the same time. it's something you get used to, whether you want it or not, going into every interaction assessing what want this person or that person is looking for you to fill. steve has never once enjoyed it, merely accepted it.

there is an element of discomfort as jack looks him over, but it's not the treatment that's bothering steve. or, it is, but it's bothering him that it isn't bothering him. if anything it's making his heart beat faster, his skin prickling everywhere jack touches him. he's just an attractive body to jack right now, no thoughts about what's in his head, no expectations to fill save those jack specifically gives voice to, and it should be bothering him so much more than it is. jack circles around, calls him a toy, and steve inhales, sharp and confused by the way that goes straight to his dick —

and then jack's hand slaps hard into his ass, and steve stiffens as his jaw drops. he's not — that's not something he likes, or he's pretty sure it isn't, but his dick's gone from mostly flaccid to half-hard in the space of the second it took for the impact to filter up to his brain.

what the fuck is going on?

he holds out his hands when jack demands them, silent, brows drawn together in confusion, and doesn't meet jack's eyes. it would feel wrong.

why would it feel wrong? ❱

[ dismissive as he's being, when Steve's eyes cast away, jack watches his face, the small frown, the crease between his brows, and a glance down shows how his cock has started to flush out, about halfway to thick where he'd had nothing before jack took to inspecting him. So, what does this tell him? This is part of what Steve's wanting to test - the arousal and attraction to things he doesn't understand, doesn't agree with, maybe? The idea of submission, of liking it, of getting something from it sexually, perhaps emotionally. If it were sexually only, Jack doubts he'd be so disturbed by it. It rings familiar, to a time when he still had the ability to deny desires that were intrinsic to him. ]

'I like it, but I don't.' [ jack breathes out, like he knows that voice, as he tugs his tie free from his neck with a smooth jerk, then takes to wrapping it around Steve's wrists, ] 'I want it, but I shouldn't.' Sucks, doesn't it?

[ yeah, he's been there. enjoy that suffering, it blows in the kind of way crushing shame blows. With hope, he'll at least remember what he and Bucky kept insisting on for jack - it's okay, there's nothing wrong with you, etc etc. He jerks the fabric tight around Steve's wrists, looping it over and around, binding him up and wrapping the slack over the middle a few times make a sort of fabric chain about a inch or two wide between, before he ties it off. A boy scout would be proud.

When he glances up, though, Jack catches the hurt in Steve's eyes, and he knows this isn't like doing something with any other sub. Steve's having a genuine crisis here, and jack drops the play for a second, lifting Steve's arms to duck underneath them, and press himself up against Steve's bare body, arms looping around his back to sweep over his skin, tilting up to kiss him soft and sweet and apologetic. he doesn't speak it, doesn't want to interrupt what's happening, but they can take a break for a second. he didn't really get to kiss Steve properly before, anyway. ]

Edited 2018-10-27 23:54 (UTC)

❰ steve's head jerks up at jack's words, an expression somewhat akin to horror flitting over his face to hear it all said aloud. the worst part is it isn't even as though jack is wrong about any of it — he's cut straight to the core of steve's insecurity and shame, and even if he doesn't seem to be making fun it still makes steve want to... to hide, or to leave, or to fight, maybe. anything to get him out of this situation where his own private shame is being observed and called out. it doesn't even matter that steve knows that jack has experienced his own version of this — if he knows how it feels, why put words to it? why put it out into the world, make it real? jack's supposed to be helping him, he's supposed to be pulling steve out of his own head, not shoving him further into it —

before steve can get too worked up, jack's expression softens and he ducks into steve's arms, and that, that is why jack was the only person other than bucky steve could imagine coming to for this. he can be mean, yes, he can find your buttons and push them viciously, with expert precision... but in the end he doesn't really want to hurt anyone. there are lines he won't cross, not on purpose, and if he finds he has he'll turn around and place himself back on the right side again. where before steve had only tensed further under jack's gentle touches, now he relaxes, nudging his nose against jack's before kissing him back. it's sweeter than the one on the couch, more equal, and it works to settle his abruptly rattled nerves. it's as much apology from jack as it is gratitude from steve, gratitude that he hadn't chosen wrong, that jack cares to get this right, that he won't use this to hurt or humiliate him.

well, much. not any more than steve wants him to, anyway.

after a long moment of simple, soft kissing, steve bites into jack's lower lip, sharp — he's okay to keep going, jack can be mean again. maybe later they can actually talk about their shared experience of shame over something intrinsic — it'd be a long way off, if steve even could ever bring himself to articulate his feelings, but if there's anyone who might have something insightful to say it's probably jack — but right now they're in the middle of something, and steve is committed to seeing it through. ❱

[ it's a good moment, a necessary and healthy one, he thinks, especially with how jack looks at himself when doing this sort of thing on occasion. it helps to assure this is play, that steve does mean something to him, that his pain does. they hadn't had many serious conversations after steve's babysitting him, and all that jack screamed and seethed at him during that time. all of which he's yet to apologize for. perhaps, after this, he can touch on it. express his gratitude for what he and bucky have been to him, though he'd done absolutely nothing to deserve it from them. jack's never been good at putting these things into words, despite all the lies he can spine and parts he can play. when it comes to anything of genuine meaning, he's at a loss. so he does this - he runs his fingers up steve's spine, cups the back of his neck, and kisses him with all the confused gratitude and intent of repayment, for caring for him when he'd been vulnerable and broken.

and then this bitch bites him. jack snorts a short laugh muffled against steve's lips, and yeah, okay, he gets it. we'll get on with it. time to play again, and the hand at his neck pushes up into steve's hair, gripping his hair much less kindly than he'd done on the couch, yanking steve's head back and to the side. ] Do we need to find a muzzle for you? Maybe a gag. One that holds those pretty lips open.

[ and since he already has the nice grip, jack holds onto him there, ducking back out of steve's arms and turning sharply back to his work. Jack drags Steve behind him as he heads back toward the nail wall, ending with a giving him a sharp shove towards it, jack smirking as he crosses his arms, watching. ]

Get on the wall.

[ Jack's eyes cast up towards the nail he'd just hammered in, indicatively. that's for you, dear. ] Don't damage my tie. Don't pull my nail free.

[ if the measurements are right, steve should be able to hook the tie around his wrists over the top of the nail and hold it there so long as he stands on the very tips of his toes, straining his body as far as it can go. it's more about control than restraining. ]

Edited 2018-10-28 01:53 (UTC)

❰ steve grins against jack's lips as his fingers slide from steve's neck up into his hair, even laughs a little through the yank — it stings, but not enough to actually hurt. it's just... nice, kind of, to be able to go between this and something softer. it feels more like a controlled descent than the freefall the encounter with bucky had been. he's choosing this, he's choosing jack, and that makes it feel less like he's losing himself as he does it.

a muzzle is right out (bucky's eyes sharp over black mesh, terrifying and out of control and vicious), but the mention of a gag — that makes steve's eyes darken, and he darts his tongue out to wet his pretty lips. yeah, maybe. if he can forgive himself for wanting it, that sounds... yes. something to note for later.

he follows behind jack, still grinning, even as jack's grip on his hair smarts and he stumbles a little from the awkwardness of the drag. he hadn't understood the point of the nail until now, and steve breathes in sharply as he realizes — he'll have to stretch so tall to be able to fit the tie over it. he'll have to be so controlled in order not to tear the tie or rip the nail out of the wall. it's perfect, some part of him thrills, that same part that was so pleased when bucky forced himself down his throat, that fights so hard to prove himself and push his own limits. there's no hesitance or concern about this, just his eyes lit up and bright as he wonders how long jack will have him stand there, what else he'll want him to do while he's there —

it's not part of the game, but steve can't help turning to jack and pulling him into a brief, searing kiss — you're so fucking brilliant, kid. and then he walks to the wall, puts his back to it, and stretches up on his toes, arms high above him, until he gets the tie over the nail. his calves won't begin to burn for a while yet, but steve lowers himself just a little anyway, testing how much he can allow himself to move — not at all, really, is the answer, the nail straining as soon as he drops less than an inch. pushing himself back up onto the tips of his toes, steve licks his lips again, eyes not leaving jack.

what now? ❱

[ god, steve's painfully beautiful, even with his head yanked to the side, with that stupid grin on his kiss swollen lips, with his laugh that sounds low and rich. if he weren't on a mission right now, he'd just shove him down on the couch and kiss him breathless instead. focus, jack. to the wall, and steve looks overjoyed, even jerks him into another kiss and jack has all of the brief second to get his own grin under control and get back into the game, lifting a hand to touch his lips to cover the last of that smile with a look of distant offense and calculation. while steve settles himself up on the nail, jack turns, glancing around his apartment until his eyes land on a thick scarf discarded over the back of his desk chair. that'll work.

pacing back to him, he's wearing a dangerous smirk on his lips, sharp and cruel as he snaps the cloth in his hands. getting back to steve, it goes around his eyes, covering them soundly, as jack checks to make sure there's no gaps he can see through. as he ties a knot behind steve's head, he's hissing next to his ear: ]

Cheating... little... prick. [ the last word emphasized by the knot jerked tight and snug. letting his hands fall, jack leans back, but close enough steve can still feel his breath against his skin. ]

Congratulations. That's an hour. Which works out perfect - my show's on. [ hovering close for a second, jack glances down over steve's chest, the bow of his back to keep stretched, the taut muscles in his stomach. Starting just below his collarbones, jack digs his nails in against his skin, hard enough to leave bright red lines behind, even if he's not breaking the skin, and jack drags them down, along his chest, over his nipples, past his ribs, down his stomach, just an inch to either side of where cock juts out from his hips, and cuts the path off sharply, curving inward and off his body just below where his balls hang heavy. it leaves such pretty red tracks behind on steve's pale skin, and jack tries to burn the sight of it into his mind. you know, for the spank bank. ] If I hear even a thread snap on that tie, or that nail hitting the floor, you start all over again.

[ while that's one part reminding steve of the rules, it's another telling him he'll be in the room, just over on the couch, watching the TV. the penthouses are nice in that they're an open floorplan, the front door leading into a sitting room and study (the wall Steve's pinned to), leading into the living room, leading into the dining room. He can be across the house and still have an eye on Steve. a hand slaps down against steve's throat abruptly, jack dropping his body weight in against it as he leans in, and presses another searing, brief kiss to his lips, near exactly like the one steve stole, before jerking back and completely away, not so much as his exhale touching him. ] Don't miss me too much, sweetheart.

[ then, only the sounds of jack's retreating footsteps, the popping of a beer cap being removed, the rustle of fabric when he sits on the couch, and the TV switching on. you're on your own, stevie.

well, mostly. jack's not going to leave him completely unattended, that's just boring, and honestly, he's watching steve more than he is the television. a convenience of the blindfold: steve doesn't know that. nor does he know jack pulled over the stack of a couple textbooks he originally stood on, to set the nail, in front of steve, so he can easily hover at the same height as him without steve watching him look ridiculous. he knows that serum means it'll be a long while before the ache really starts to set into steve's limbs, and he wants him pressed.

of course, he doesn't completely leave him there bare for interaction and stimulus either. at the first commercial break, jack paces back over, leaving his shoes on for steve to hear the tap tap of them approaching. doesn't touch him at first, just pauses next to him, inspecting, looking over the tie, the nail, the pressure on his feet. he doesn't say anything either. after a minute or so, steve will feel jack's lips, feather light, against his side, just brushing along. checking if he's ticklish, honestly, and when steve's muscles jerk even slightly, he pauses on the spot, and bites down against him. it's the first thing he's doing to upset steve's concentration and control, so he pulls back right after and gives him a moment to right himself. this is how the game works, and he wants steve to win, but he wants him to do it over the most difficulty he can handle. ]

Edited 2018-10-28 04:30 (UTC)

❰ of all the things steve expected jack to bring into this, a blindfold was not one of them. he watches jack approach, eyebrows raised, a small smirk on his face, and dutifully leans his head forward to allow jack to more easily tie the scarf around it. mark this down as another thing steve was fairly sure wasn't a thing for him which he's rapidly changing his mind about — taking away his sight just makes steve's other senses more heightened, particularly his hearing. jack hisses accusatorily in his ear and steve shudders, tilting his head toward where he thinks jack's lips are —

and then jack steps back, and steve takes a deep breath, shifting his wrists. the tie slides silken along his skin but doesn't tear, and the nail remains solidly in place.

he's not expecting jack to touch him, so when jack's nails alight on his collarbones steve jerks, then forces himself back to stillness nervously. each touch heightens the sensitivity of his skin, builds anticipation for where else his nails might go — they dig into his nipples and steve yelps a little ah as his hips twitch forward and a blot of precum drips out the head. he's getting harder, he can feel it, and when jack's hands get closer to his cock steve almsot believes he might take it in hand, jerk him off, force him to control himself through it... but he drops his hands, and steve moans, bobbing just a little on his toes.

jack's not going to be with him for the whole hour. god, that shouldn't hit him as hard as it does, shouldn't shoot straight through his dick and make the muscles of his stomach jump as steve forces himself to remain in place — he'd wondered why jack wasn't undressing, now he knows why. he doesn't have too long to think about it before jack's hand drops with all the weight of his body onto steve's throat and he steals his remaining breath with a kiss. it's enough to make steve feel floaty, foggy — not quite to the point he was with bucky, but almost there — and then jack walks away, and steve tries to follow him before remembering his place (his place) and just stands there, panting, now hard as a rock and leaking precum like a fucking sieve.

it takes a few moments for steve to get his breathing back under control, but after that all he can do is stand and wait. wait for jack to decide to come back to him — or, wait for jack to return his attention to steve, because jack himself is only a few feet away. steve can hear the tv going, though it's difficult to make out any of the words. that's more due to how scrambled his own head is than anything — the volume's plenty loud, but steve can't bring himself to concentrate on anything except for how hard he is, and how the stretch in his calves and arms is uncomfortable but not painful (yet, but it'll be an hour, maybe after an hour), and he can feel the air from the fucking heater on his skin, and jack is just a few feet away. fully dressed, unconcerned about the naked, hard man trussed up against his wall. like steve is just a feature of the room, a decoration. it's the headiest realization steve's ever had, and it pushes him further into the fog the more he thinks about it.

the tv's been switched to commercials for a few seconds by the time steve is aware of the change, but he hardly cares about that when he can hear jack coming closer. his erection's been flagging, ten minutes without any stimulation making him wilt, but just the sound of jack's heels on the floor is enough to make it twitch again. steve can feel jack's presence next to him but can't feel him, and he's about to ask jack to touch him jack does, lips brushing along his sides. it's nice.

or it would be nice, if jack didn't find the ticklish spot on his ribs that makes steve nearly shriek, jerking away from the pressure. the tie doesn't tear and the nail doesn't move, but it's a near thing, and steve tenses, gritting his teeth and curling his toes as jack bites into the same spot. it's the first part of this that's made him shake, and the relief that floods him when jack pulls back and lets him relax is almost goddamn sexual, that's how good it feels. ❱

You're a dick, ❰ he murmurs, but there's no bite to it, he's still floating. ❱

[ it's great steve has that blindfold on, because jack's free to grin at that comment, as his eyes watch steve's flushed, aching cock bob as he shakes, precome dripping, a small dot smeared on jack's shirt. trust him, steve, this hurts him a lot more than it hurts you. he reaches down, running his thumb through that small circle of dampness on his shirt, before bringing it up to his lips to taste, eyes closed as he drawls out the next bit. ]

And you're about to get another hour if you don't start being a little more appreciative.

[ look at all the nice things he's doing for you, steve. giving you a pretty space on the wall, putting his lips on you, letting you borrow his tie and his scarf. and now, pacing over to his side, to run his palm down the back of steve's shoulder blade, a smooth motion down the curve of his back, over his hip, and down to his ass, where it slows, lingers, squeezes just to feel the muscle tense. ]

Maybe I should just leave you here. Tied up and waiting. Dripping and ready. [ the last part is punctuated by a single finger, starting at the root of steve's dick, and tracing up the underside of it, dragging through the slick precome that's run a little river down his cock, all the way up to his crown, briefly lighting over the slit before pulling away. ]

Might be nice. Come home from work, use you however I want. [ jack steps in, body to the side slightly, so steve can't rut against him, and his lips find steve's skin again, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his chest, down to a nipple he licks over. jack's teeth scrape against the sensitive skin, before he sucks it between his lips, swirls his tongue over the flesh, then pulls off again to purr his words out against steve's body. ] Touch you, taste you. Fuck you into the wall. Relieve some stress.

[ jack waits, glances back up to the nail, examines steve's face, his body, how he's holding up. but he doesn't move away from him this time. if anything, jack presses closer, until steve can feel his against his hip, his dick rock hard through the thin fabric of his slacks. another caress up steve's back, and down again, as he waits him out, let's him center.

finally, a hand comes to circle his poor, neglected cock, soaked with steve's own fluids that slick the slow, lazy stroke jack gives him. one turns into two, and jack's palm twists sweetly around his cockhead, his lips on his skin again, sucking up red welt over his ribs. he keeps a steady rhythm, then speeds up gradually, more and more, until he can feel steve about to come and—

his hand is gone, body is gone, lips are gone. jack step completely back from him, leaving steve deprived entirely of touch and any sensation besides the wall at his back, the cool air on his skin and the ache in his body. ]

Show's back.

[ and off he goes. see you in another ten to fifteen minutes, steve. by the way, welcome to edging.

just to rub it in, and because he knows steve can hear him, after he flops back onto the couch, the zipper of his slacks sounds, the metallic clanking of his belt being undone, and then, after a moment, the slippery-wet sound of jack stroking himself languidly with steve's precome still coating his hand. ]

❰ that palm against his back feels... almost better than anything else ever has, or at least steve is so attuned to it that it feels more. he's not really worried about spending another hour up here, not yet, the threat too nebulous for him to feel much concern, but he does want to please jack. he wants jack to keep touching him. it's so overwhelming, to want it so badly and to feel it so much and not know what jack's doing, and steve turns his head into his arm, nudging against it while trying not to twitch too much.

an impossible goal, it turns out, with jack still talking and touching his cock like that. steve can't help the breathy, quiet little grunts being pushed out of him by his own overworking lungs, and his hands fist above his head, then flex, then fist again. fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows jack wouldn't do it but for a second he wants him to, wants to be the toy jack pulls off the shelf when he's feeling lonely. no responsibilities, no wars to fight, nothing to do but please jack and keep himself blank while he waits to be needed — and he would be needed, because jack cares about him. not just a toy, a prized possession.

it's difficult to get the leverage necessary to grind his hips upward, and pointless, too, because there's nothing to grind into, but steve's hips begin working of their own volition and he pants into the skin of his underarm. jack keeps talking, and steve's cock is so hard he almost feels like he's going to come now, without being touched at all — and then jack steps against his side and steve's hips jerk, he pushes himself just a little higher, biting his lip against the moan that threatens to leave him. there are lips on him, slowly making their way down his chest, and when they reach a nipple steve gasps, head dropping hard back against the wall. his cock still works the air, searching for some kind of friction —

it's clear, during that little moment of pause that steve is fine. or, well, turned on beyond belief, so hot and hard his dick's almost flushed purple — but mentally, he's fine. a flush has spread from his cheeks down his chest, his nipples are tight and hard and as red as the rest of him. his lips are wet and swollen from being bitten and licked so much.

he looks wanton. desperate. not quite in subspace, but riding the razor's edge.

jack steps in closer, presses himself against steve, and steve almost sobs with relief, trying to rub his cock against jack's chest — jack takes pity on him, takes him in hand, and steve moans, mouth slack. it's so good, he's so close, it will only take a few strokes — jack sucks at the skin of his ribs and that makes it even less, he's so fucking close he's gonna come, he's gonna come, he's gonna —

jack steps away and this time steve does sob, body tight, held at the precipice for a few moments before it starts to ramp back down. wildly, he almost tears his hands off the nail and just says fuck it... but that would disappoint jack, and much as steve wants to come he wants to please jack more. so he stays, uncomfortably hard and uncomfortably stretched out, panting into the tv-broken quiet.

and then there's the sound of jack's zipper and the quiet, wet sound of jack stroking his own dick, and steve's mouth waters. ❱

I want — ❰ jesus, is that what his voice sounds like? all breathy and far away? ❱ I want to taste. Please.

❰ maybe if he asks nice jack will let him, next commercial break. ❱

[ next commercial break is goddamn right.

jack doesn't respond, acts as if he hadn't heard him, as if steve never spoke. he doesn't get his attention right now. as much as that voice makes his breath hitch, his cock jump in his hand, and his heart thud in his chest. not even mentioning what he said. this show isn't even near worth watching when steve's over there, sobbing for jack to put his hand back on his cock. just his hand, and god, he's such a gorgeous piece of work like this, unraveling and shaking and fucking pleading for him.

the show can't pass fast enough, and as much as jack would like to charge over there, cut steve down, and let him take as much a taste of his cock as his throat can handle, when the commercial break comes and he stands, tucking himself back into his briefs and setting his pants right again, it isn't towards steve that he walks.

instead, it's back further into the house, and he's whistling again - the tune from Kill Bill because it amuses the shit out of him - so Steve can hear where he is, how far away, and when he starts pacing his way back out. this time, he does head towards him, and if Steve's listening close enough, he can hear Jack's breathing is labored, as if he's carrying something heavy, because he is. to be exact, two fifty-pound dumbbells. there's a thud as one is set on the floor, and the other he takes in two hands, lifting it up and setting it onto one of steve's shoulders, the bar fitting snugly between the muscle of steve's arm and his neck. then, the second one, on the opposite shoulder. after making sure they're balanced there, he steps back, satisfied. for jack, his shoulders would be dead in seconds holding them there. for steve, it should only be an extra minor annoyance. another level of something to concentrate on.

the bigger concern is keeping them there. if they fall, they're heavy enough to do some serious splintering to jack's nice, hardwood floors. and you don't want to do that, do you, steve? after a pause, surveying his work, jack finally answers steve's request. ]

What do you want to taste, Steve?

[ yes, he heard you. no, he's not giving you what you want yet. not until he gets a little more in return. ]

❰ steve takes the time between commercial breaks to try to calm himself down, at least enough so that his hard-on doesn't hurt anymore. he's... mostly successful, but it's a difficult proposition when he can hear the way jack's breath hitches and his hand strips his cock. for someone who'd never seen another person's dick in a sexual situation until a couple weeks ago, steve is rapidly finding himself obsessed with them — he wants to be on his knees in front of jack, or stroking him, anything.

so yeah, he's still fucking uncomfortably hard by the time the commercials hit, but he's at least able to breathe normally. his calves and arms are just beginning to feel a hint of strain, but it's nothing he can't ignore. steve waits for jack to come back over, tensing a little in anticipation...

but jack walks away. steve can't see him but he can hear him, can hear his whistling getting further away, and steve groans, thumping his head against the wall behind him. paradoxically, his dick gets a little harder at the abandonment.

when jack begins to return, steve lets out a breath of relief — though that doesn't last long. as soon as jack hears the thump of the dumbbell he tenses, and he almost jumps out of his skin when jack settles first one then the other in the crooks where his arms and neck meet. it's fucking cruel, and rude, and steve just rolls his shoulders slightly to test their lay so he can make sure not to drop them.

fucking hell, jack is good at this. steve's almost entirely underwater by now, only hanging on by the barest amount of irritation and worry he still feels. ❱

You, ❰ is steve's immediate answer, and then the realization that that won't be enough for jack. there's a moment of hesitation, a nervousness that he still hasn't fully been able to evade yet, before he licks his lip and says ❱ Your cock. I want to suck you.

[ jack has to swallow back a groan when steve tells him just exactly what he wants, a shudder coursing through him, and it would be so easy to just tell him yes and let him down and finish this quickly. but he still isn't where jack wants him to be, and they aren't done yet.

stepping up close, jack's hands come to steve's cheeks, kissing him too sweetly over his cheek bones and jaw and lips, speaking in a soft, sugary tone. that is a lie. ]

I know you do, and I'm sure you'd be great at it. But how do you plan on doing that from up there? [ asked mock-innocently, like Jack doesn't know full goddamn well that steve can't suck his dick while he's strung up on the wall. but that's exactly what he means - he's not going anywhere yet. one of his hands sinks lower, over his throat, and tightens, pressing the back of steve's neck against the wall, pressure rapidly building. ] I said an hour, Steve. And I meant an hour.

[ He's not Bucky, and he's not spoiling you. you're doing so good, steve, just keep going. ]

Thirty more minutes. Do well with these, and maybe I'll reward you next time.

[ 'these' being the dumbbells. jack releases him, letting steve breath, and moves away for a second, grabbing a chair to pull back over in front of steve, taking a seat not a foot or so away from him. after a moment, steve will feel jack's touch against his swollen dick again, brushing so so light along the underside of him. his hand circles the head of his dick, not pressing in firm enough to mean anything in advancing his state, but his thumb does brush idly against the leaking tip. and the hand stays just there, not moving. ]

Now. Fuck my hand.

[ if steve's guessing jack might pull off him right when he's about to come again, he'd be right. he's still telling him to do it, so steve had best do it, if he wants to get his lips on jack's cock some time tonight. ]

❰ steve g r o a n s, disappointed and frustrated and desperate, but he doesn't say anything. he leans into the sweet little lies of jack's kisses, trying to catch jack's lips and pull him into a deeper kiss, but jack pulls away and steve can't really move all the much anymore. the dumbbells aren't heavy, really, but they're not all that stable either, and too much movement one way or another could send them tumbling off of steve's shoulders.

jack's hand closes around steve's throat and he chokes, tensing to keep from trying to rock his hips. he's swimming, he's almost under, steve can practically feel the fog settling in —

and then jack lets go and steve gasps in a breath, shuddering and still aware, even if only by inches.

maybe it is only bucky. maybe jack can get him close, but bucky's the only one who can really take him down. that'd be okay, steve wouldn't hate that so much — bucky his as much as he is bucky's. they're two halves of one whole, they couldn't do anything that would hurt each other. bucky wouldn't use this against steve ever.

steve's so caught up in his own half-aware thoughts that when jack's hand circles around his dick he jumps, making the dumbbells wobble and his calves finally give the barest bit of a twinge as he has to resettle his muscles in ways that strain the tie and the nail the least and him the most. how the fuck is he supposed to fuck jack's hand like this, without dropping the dumbbells? yeah, yeah, the point, his head, but still. taking a deep breath, steve rolls his hips forward, carefully, less fucking into jack's fist than sliding through it. it takes a moment for him to catch a rhythm that doesn't endanger the tie, or the nail, or the dumbbells, but once he does the motion of his hips gets dirtier, more obscene, as he works himself back up to his peak.

please don't pull away this time, he's been good, he's done everything that's asked of him —

when jack pulls away this time, there are actual tears in steve's eyes. ❱

[ jack's always been a fan of 'the longer you wait, the better the pay off' when it comes to things like this, and in truth, he could be a lot more cruel than what he's giving steve right now. but that's not what this is about. like at the beginning - he wants steve to win, but with the highest difficulty he can stomach. that means waiting a little longer.

he's at least kind enough to raise back up to steve's height, passing a thumb under his eyes to wipe away whatever tears might've escaped, as he presses his forehead against his. ] You're doing so good. Just a little more. [ he whispers, and kisses him softly, sweetly, promising he's almost done. he won't go the whole hour, jack decides, but he won't cave after he just told steve 'no' either. with that, he leaves, and it's back to the TV.

the show plays, and jack couldn't tell you what happened in that fifteen minutes if you held a gun to his head. he's entirely too busy deciding what he's going to do with the man near writhing against his wall right now, pleading to fuck his throat on jack's cock. in the end, he decides he is cutting it short. 45 minutes is enough, and steve's still so new to this. time to put him under.

there's no games when the commercials hit and jack gets back up. as he paces over, he's tugging at the buttons of his shirt, prying it open and dragging it off his shoulders, discarding it somewhere between the couch and steve. he reaches for the dumbbells immediately, and silently takes them off, setting them aside. ]

Turn. [ a short, curt command, and his hands on steve's shoulders help him to pivot around without dropping his arms until he's facing the wall, and jack's pressing his body flush against his backside. his belt buckle jangles as he tugs it open, and there's that sharp, sliding sound when he yanks it free from his slacks. soon after, the leather passes over steve's shoulder, lays against his adam's apple, and loops back around to his back, where jack threads the end through the open buckle. ]

I know I can't fuck you. I know you're Bucky's. [ Jack grinds out, as if assuring steve that it isn't what's about to happen, voice strained and harsh, as he wraps the end of his belt around his left hand, then pulls it tight, cinching in around steve's throat fast and hard. slacks fallen low on his hips, jack's cock is only separated by the damp layer of his boxer briefs when he grinds up against steve's ass, the throbbing hard line of his dick lining up perfect with the velvet soft seam between steve's cheeks. his right hand reaches around to take steve's length in hand, jerking him firm and fast and merciless. jack may as well be fucking steve for how hard he's rutting against him, and it's a good fucking thing he made sure to keep his briefs on, because he's right up against steve's hole, and if a slip were to happen, it would hurt like a bitch for the virgin in the room.

with each roll of his hips, jack pulls back harder on the belt, twists his palm around Steve's cockhead, and despite the chaos of it, he's counting seconds in his head, keeping track of how long steve's going without air. with hope he comes quickly enough jack doesn't start to get worried - don't be scared, steve, he's not pulling away this time. you won the game, you get to come. and once he does, before he's even halfway through spilling hot over jack's hand, he leans up to growl next to his ear - ]

Break the fucking tie, Steve. [ he knows you can do it, just shred the stupid piece of shit, jack has a million ties, and he doesn't even like that one much. ] Break it and get your mouth on me.

❰ maybe he should be ashamed that it's jack's gentle praise that makes him catch his breath again, but steve can't bring himself to feel it right now. it's there, somewhere, abovewater or beyond the fog, but for now it's so far away as to be unimportant, even if he's not quite under yet. jack says he's doing good, jack says just a little more, and steve shudders in acquiescence, drawing strength from the press of jack's lips to his. he still whines, just a little, when jack pulls away to return to the couch, but it's more of a cursory complaint than anything. jack is testing him, he's testing himself, and if he can't handle half an hour of this then... well, he can. that's all there is to it.

again, steve takes the time between commercials to try to recenter himself. it's harder, he really wants to come, he's never been denied like this before, but he tries. he tunes into his body, feels the stretch and the tension of his limbs, the precarious balance of the dumbbells, the aching hardness of his cock. it's been a long time since steve has really checked in with his body like this, and it's a good reminder. proof that no matter how many times he looks in the mirror and sees someone else, this is his body. it's wide and strong and tall in all the ways he never used to be, but it's the body he's used to kiss bucky and jack and peggy and tj, and it's the body he uses to fight for the things he believes in.

it's his body, and he likes it, even when it doesn't always feel like his. he'll have to thank jack for reminding him of that.

the commercials begin, and steve turns his attention outward again, straining to hear jack's movements. there's the quiet shift and swish of fabric, maybe he's getting undressed? his steps stop in front of steve and one by one the weight of the dumbbells is lifted off his shoulders. steve rolls his shoulders, but doesn't have time to appreciate the new freedom before jack gives him an order, one he frowns at but follows with jack's help. it feels... strange, somehow, to be turned to the wall, ass out, but before steve can worry too much about that there's the sound of jack's belt buckle. he is undressing, finally, thank —

the leather of the belt slides over steve's shoulder and encircles his neck and steve just straight up stops breathing, before jack even starts tugging he just stops breathing and falls under.

he's — floating, or he's sinking, or something, he doesn't know. he doesn't need to know. he loses time for a moment or two, static filling his ears and his mind going blank. he comes back to himself just in time to hear jack call him bucky's and steve nods — he is, he's bucky's, jack is helping him right now but it's bucky he belongs to, it's good jack knows that —

the first time jack ruts up against his ass steve gasps and shudders, tries to curl in on himself but he can't do that without pulling down on the nail and he remembers, no tearing the tie, no ripping out the nail. his hands scrabble at the wall, nails dragging through paint, and when jack gets a hand on him he keens, tensing and pushing back and then forward, he can't choose whether to fuck himself back on jack's cock or forward into his hand the result is an uncoordinated, desperate rocking. these noises keep being punched out of him with every thrust, these sharp, wild breathy noises, sex noises, made even dirtier by the belt around his neck and the way he almost gags on them. jack isn't going to fuck him but steve wants him to, moans every time the head of jack's cock batters at his hole. it's so much, it's overwhelming, steve's stopped even trying to keep up with jack and is just standing there for him to use.

his orgasm catches him entirely unawares, choking into his own arm one moment and shaking apart the next. it's the most intense orgasm steve has ever had in his life, almost euphoric from the lack of air, and he whites out for a long moment before he comes back to himself with jack growling in his ear. it takes steve a long moment to follow the command, tremors running through his body and his mind swimming, but as soon as he can process language again he flexes his wrists, snapping the tie. he twists around to face jack and falls to his knees in one smooth motion, sighing deeply in satisfaction — fuck, he loves being on his knees — and reaching to pull jack's briefs out of the way. as soon as jack's cock springs free steve's mouth is on him, sucking him down as far as he can. ❱

[ the silk soft fabric of the tie binding steve's wrists snaps like nothing more than paper, and jack's cock throbs watching it, knowing the kind of insane strength steve has in him. and a second later, seeing that man carrying around so much power drop to his knees at jack's feet, holy fucking lord, the sight of it leaves him so light headed and aching that jack shoots a hand out to brace against the wall, still warm for steve's body pressed against it. ]

Fuck, Steve, you're so goddamn good. You did so, so good. [ and jack's honestly proud of him, he pushed through all the crap he submitted him to. there's an ache in jack's voice, straining because he wants him so damn bad. when steve's lips are finally around his heavy, leaking cock, and he watches him take his dick as far down as his throat will let him, the moan jack lets out is loud enough to carry to Vanessa's across the hall. his mouth feels like heaven, and jack's fingers twine in the gorgeous gold of steve's hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but even still, he can't help rhythmically carding through the strands, damp with sweat as jack combs it back from his face adoringly, encouraging.

jack wants to be careful, doesn't know how well steve can handle his gag reflex, but his hips still roll forward, easing against the back of his throat, cupping the back of steve's head to pull him further down on his dick, careful careful so careful not to hurt him. once he feels himself push past, though, that's all jack needs, a keening sound punched out of him at the sudden tight, tight squeeze of steve's throat around him. he fucks deep into him, loving the slide of steve's lips along his shaft, and the color bright on steve's cheeks when he pulls back only to thrust back into him. ]

God alfuckingmighty, you look so incredible. I could watch you do this all damn day. [ Jack rambles, because he talks, it's just what he does, letting steve go at his own pace intermittently to let him catch his breath. his hand at the back of steve's head, his thumb rubs massaging circles just behind steve's ear, in between the times he strokes his hair back, periodically curling tight in his hair again when he wants to pull him back down, take control, and fuck his throat again. ]

Just like that, all the way down.

Edited 2018-11-02 08:43 (UTC)

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