#Dom/sub Undertones | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 5461

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

8. Banana-Dulce Cheesecake

Bucky

It occurs to him to tell Steve about the kiss later that night, when Steve is three fingers deep in him and Bucky wants some leverage to make him get in him already. He’s told him four damn times already to move things along.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, making an effort to control his voice so that Steve doesn’t know just how well he’s getting at his prostate like this. “If you don’t listen to me and get your dick in me in the next fifteen seconds, I’m tying you up and riding the dildo while you watch.”

Steve’s rhythm falters and his eyes widen, because he knows his husband and he knows it’s no idle threat. Sexual denial is one of Bucky’s favorite cruelties. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, okay.” His fingers leave a sad absence inside of Bucky, but he gets right to work in reaching for the lube bottle to slick himself up.

“Aht, forgetting something?” Bucky raises his eyebrow and watches Steve huff in exasperation as he stretches across the bed to reach for their beside drawer. Bucky takes the opportunity to smack his ass, enjoying the slight jiggle and the clenching muscle. “Good boy,” he purrs, as Steve comes back with a condom in hand.

Even when he’s fucking Bucky, Steve isn’t allowed to come inside of him. Only Bucky gets the privilege of leaving a load up inside his husband's ass, a possessive reminder left behind to slide out, slow and filthy. He watches Steve roll the latex down his dick and then give himself a few indulgent pulls with the lube. He's red and throbbing, and Bucky can tell by the way he keeps sucking his bottom lip back into his mouth that he’s feeling very sensitive. “That feel good, Honey?”

“Nngh.”

“That’s enough. C’mere.” He hooks his heels in behind Steve’s ass to urge him forward. Steve drops his dick and climbs over him, settling into the spread of his legs and reaching down to line himself up. Bucky feels the wet drag of his cockhead over his hole.

Obedient boy, he thinks with a smirk. But it slips off his face when Steve starts to push in. He inhales sharply through his nose and closes his eyes as he focuses on letting Steve in. “Ungh,” he grunts quietly, brow furrowed at the stretch.

“You okay?” Steve’s hovering, not pushing any further. Waiting for permission.

Bucky swallows and nods, because he is okay, but goddamn. Sometimes he forgets just how big his Stevie really is. (No better reminder than to have it shoved up his ass.) “Yeah,” he pants, sliding his hands up the backs of Steve’s arms and feeling up the tension in his triceps—he’s straining so beautifully, trying so very hard to hold still for him. It makes Bucky melt when he opens his eyes again and gets a look at the beautifully pinched expression on Steve’s face.

Oh, his golden boy.

“C’mere, you,” he husks, pulling him down by the jaw for a kiss. It forces Steve’s cock a little bit further into him, and he groans at the stretch. “Ff-uck, uhn, Ssteve.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

He shoves his tongue into Steve’s mouth like it’s payback for the way he’s invading his body right now, the lewd, wet swipe of his tongue a counterpoint to Steve’s dick. Bucky just wants to get inside his man, any way he can. Steve makes a filthy, tortured noise when their tongues roll together, and Bucky relishes it. He growls and drives their mouths together again and again, making it sloppy, taking Steve’s breath away, tongue-fucking his mouth before he gets any real chance to start fucking him.

“Buck,” Steve breathes, the word wet on his lips as he holds himself still. He’s looking so pleadingly at Bucky, near-pained self restraint and begging eyes that make Bucky want to destroy him. “Please. I gotta. Gotta move.”

Bucky feels that ever-familiar dark thrill zip through him. “Yeah?” he asks, mock sympathy lacing his tone. He strokes Steve’s hair. “Is that what you want, big guy? You wanna bury that fat cock up in me? Wanna go to town?” Steve nods, of course he does, and Bucky forces one more harsh, unyielding kiss onto him before he pulls back and relents. “Okay Baby, push it in a little. Go slow. Make yourself feel good.”

Steve sags with relief, instantly sinking deeper into Bucky’s body. He goes slow like he’s been told, easing in each of the seven plus girthy inches he has to give, and since Bucky’s just put up with God knows how much time and lube and fingers softening him up for this, it doesn’t hurt.

It’s just so fucking much.

Steve waits once he’s settled all the way inside, because he knows he needs permission to start thrusting. Bucky strokes a tender thumb just under his eye, taking the time to soak up his expression, his pretty features when he’s feeling good like this. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, y’know that?”

Steve grins shakily and knocks their foreheads together. “That why you married me?”

“Mmm. Had to do somethin’. Couldn’t let somebody else get at you.” Bucky grinds up, feeling Steve’s hot length rub inside him, so big. “Oh, Honey.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tersely. “Fuck, Bucky please. Say I can. C’mon Baby.”

Bucky nods, and that’s all the permission Steve needs. He starts moving, thrusting into Bucky with short, deep rolls of his hips. Steve’s a goddamn savant when it comes to getting at Bucky’s sweet spot with his dick, and now’s no exception. Bucky hisses as sparks fly up his spine, his balls pressed deliciously by Steve’s pubic bone every time he rocks in deep. It’s so damn good. “S-sumthin happened today,” he says, stuttering over his words in a way he almost never does.

“Mm.” Steve starts necking at him, humming in acknowledgement. “What?”

“With Mary,” Bucky grunts. “I—nnh—I kissed her.”

Against his neck, Steve makes this tiny, appreciative sound that just about makes Bucky's blood boil. His hips jolt down in an uncontrolled thrust. “Yeah? She liked it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, a dirty thrill shooting through him at this: at talking about someone else while Steve fucks him. Talking about her. “Yeah she did. She felt so good, Stevie. Felt so nice in my arms.”

Steve groans again. "Tell me."

“Wanted more, God, I wanted to squeeze her, y’know? Trap her. Right up between me and you.”

“Fuck, Bucky. Uhn.”

“Yeah.” They’re grinding filthily now, all firm and deep, skin slapping quietly, Bucky’s legs wrapped up around Steve’s waist to draw him in hard again and again. “I wanna do something about it,” he pants. “Want to have her.”

Steve moans and nods, his face pinking from the effort, from the thought of the three of them together. This, the idea of the two of them in a three-way relationship with a woman, used to be one of their biggest fantasies that they’d talk about. “Can we?” he asks, looking to Bucky for permission. Always to Bucky. It gets him hotter than anything, so in love with his man.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching down to grab handfuls of Steve’s flexing ass, urging him on. “Yeah we can. We’ll take her apart. Fuck her so good.”

“Oh, God. How?” Steve’s back to kissing on his neck while he grinds into him, dirty pants against sucked-wet skin going straight to Bucky’s dick. “Tell me.”

“Mm, I dunno. Maybe you can hold her, huh? Hold her open while I go down on her. Or maybe we’ll—ugh, shit—maybe we’ll both have her at the same time, yeah? You behind her and me in front, taking turns dipping our cocks in her ‘til she screams.”

Steve groans, his hips slowing and his head sinking over Bucky’s shoulder—He’s close and doesn’t want to come.

Bucky bites sharply at his neck. “Did I say you could stop? Keep fucking me.”

Steve, trooper that he is, whimpers and gets back to it. Bucky grits his teeth, angling his hips into the thrusts just right so that his prostate is getting it good. “Aw, fuckyeah. Like that, Honey, juust like that. Shit. You’re gonna make Daddy cum, y’know that?”

Steve whines, his hips stuttering at the words. Bucky rarely calls himself “Daddy” when they’re together, it’s usually something he only utters when he’s domming a sub. But with Steve topping like this, Bucky needs the extra dominance. The growled words get to Steve too though, and he starts to come, shoving harder and uncoordinated. “Ohn ... shit,” he whimpers, the high pitched, desperate sound of it making Bucky’s cock pulse dangerously.

He growls and smashes their mouths together, shoves his flesh hand down between their bellies and grabs himself, starts stroking off hard and fast as he feels Steve’s jerky final thrusts. They finish seconds apart, with Steve still grinding his orgasm out as Bucky’s cock starts shooting up his belly and over his knuckles. “Uh, ughn, godyeah …”

They slump against each other with exhaustion once it’s done, panting against skin and reveling in the aftershocks. Steve eventually takes the initiative to pull out, getting rid of the condom and snuggling back up against Bucky’s side. Bucky hums and wraps his arm around him, pressing a kiss to the edge of his temple. “S’good,” he mumbles, letting Steve pull the blanket up to cover their legs, even though they haven’t even wiped off yet. It feels too good to move right now.

“So,” Steve says a few minutes later, his voice softened and lax from the afterglow. He’s got his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest, and Bucky begins to play idly with his hair. “The Mary thing.”

Bucky inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling underneath Steve’s cheek. “Yeah. The Mary thing.”

“What’s the plan?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, picturing various scenarios in his sated brain. “Hell if I know.”

Bucky

Steve’s already back from his ass-o’clock morning jog and putzing around the kitchen by the time Bucky has finished dressing for work and emerges from the bedroom. He hears (and smells) the coffee pot percolating, and sighs gratefully as he walks into the kitchen to join him. “Mornin’ babe. Thanks. for getting that started.”

Steve gives him a cheerful peck on the lips as he passes to open one of the upper cabinets. “There’s a piece of cheesecake in the fridge for you,” he says.

“Cheesecake?” Bucky’s slightly distracted by the shape of Steve’s muscular back through his tight Under Armour top as he stretches to reach his preferred to-go mug. “For breakfast?”

“I may have mentioned that it’s your favorite dessert of all time.” Steve shoots him a knowing smile when he turns back around. "Enjoy the view?"

"You know it," Bucky says, shameless. "I'll have to have a talk with her about making cheesecake. The first step is admitting you have a problem, and I have a problem."

Steve snickers and goes to grab the coffee pot and fill the mug. “At least take it to work with you for lunch. She’ll be bummed if you don’t.”

“Sure.” In the fridge, Bucky discovers a clear plastic clamshell box with a single slice of cheesecake inside. Previously unaware of any hunger, his stomach suddenly turns over in a growling vote of confidence for the cheesecake. “Damn,” he mutters, reaching in and pulling the clamshell out. “So that’s what the banana threats were for.”

“Yep.” Steve chuckles. “I already had a piece. And Buck:” He turns around and looks at him with theatrically wide eyes. “It’s really good.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” Bucky checks the time on his phone, decides that he has enough time to sit down and eat it there before he leaves for work. He goes to grab a fork from the silverware drawer. Seated on the stool at the breakfast bar, his eyes slide shut as the first bite of dense, creamy goodness slides over his tongue. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” he moans. “Caramel.”

“I know, right?”

He opens his eyes again and gives Steve a withering look. “We’ve gotta set some boundaries for ourselves. Or she’ll have us rocking dad bods in no time.”

Mary’s laugh sounds from the hallway just before she appears, dressed in sneakers and workout clothes. “With the way you two work out? Yeah right.” She shoots a cheerful finger gun in Bucky’s direction. “And it’s dulce, not caramel.”

“Oh. Well I stand corrected, then.”

“Basically the same thing as American-style caramel.” She makes a face. “Which hardy counts at all. Just wait until I make you a real caramel. Where the sugar’s actually cooked dark enough to taste.” She nods with an adorable amount of conviction. “Your mouth’ll know the difference.”

“I’m sure it will,” Bucky drawls, looking her over with the same sort of appreciation that he’d just done with Steve. Mary wears leggings on a regular basis, which is always very enticing, but her gym leggings are even tighter, and it’s a total cocktease. Bucky waits until she has her back turned before he lets his gaze drop to her hips and ass. Jesus, help him. “You going to the gym?” he asks, knowing that it’s her day off.

“Yeah,” she huffs, going over to grab her jacket from the catchall. “I’ve gained so much weight since Halloween, it’s not even funny. Got about fifteen pounds to work off now. Blegch.”

Bucky actually puts his fork down, he’s so disturbed by the casual way that she throws it out. “What?” he says, and Steve echoes him with a stifled noise in his throat that basically means the same thing. “Fifteen pounds?” He lets his eyes drag over her body, mouth agape. “Mary, wait.”

“What?” She’s shrugging her jacket on with a humorless laugh. “It’s true.”

“No it is fucking not,” Bucky snaps, and at hearing his tone, she stops laughing. “Mary,” he says sternly. “You do not need to lose any weight. And certainly not fifteen pounds. Jesus. That’s ludicrous.”

She turns around with an incredulous expression. “Seriously? I literally just heard you complaining about dad bods. Have you seen yourself? And you’re gonna talk to me about what’s ludicrous?”

Bucky frowns at how defensive she’s gotten and how fast. “Mare,” he says, trying to soften his tone. “You look great. Now I’m fine with you going to the gym if you want, but let’s not get out of hand, here.” Something about the tense determination in her features sets off alarm bells in his head. “You should wait to go to the gym with Steve when he goes in the afternoon,” he decides, making it an order. “You don’t need to be going by yourself.”

Her entire face screws up. “Excuse you,” she scowls. “I’m not a child. I can go to the freakin’ gym by myself.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I want you to wait.”

For a split second, he sees her expression smooth over at how calmly and firmly he’s said it—her own natural submissive reaction to a direct order from him. But that quickly bleeds back to astonished anger. “Sorry, Daddy, but I’m ready to go now. I already took my pre-sup and I’ll just waste it if I—”

“Pre-sup?” he hisses (forcing himself to ignore the ‘Daddy’ thing—holy shit). “What supplements are you taking?”

“None of your business!” She laughs meanly, and Bucky sees Steve shift out of the corner of his eye at how quickly this is devolving. “Jesus. I’m a grown woman, Bucky.”

“I know that, Mary,” he grits. “Now take your coat off and wait for Steve.”

“No.”

“Have you even had any breakfast?” he growls.

“I don’t like to eat before a workout,” she says, grabbing up her purse from the catchall.

“Mary,” Steve pleads, looking worriedly at Bucky. “You should have something for fuel. C’mon, let me make you a piece of toast at least.”

She huffs, shouldering her purse and heading for the door. “You guys’ bread has like a hundred and thirty calories a slice. No thanks. I’m fine.” She unlocks the deadbolt and reaches for the doorknob.

Bucky lets loose his full Dom-voice when he warns, “Mary, don’t you open that door.”

Her shoulders visibly tense, as if she’s fighting off the full-body urge to obey him. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she says, then pulls open the door and leaves.

Bucky stares, furious. “A couple of hours?!” The barstool’s legs scrape against the floor as he hastily pushes out from the counter, intending to go after her.

“Babe, wait. No.” Steve stops him with both hands on his shoulders. “That’s not a good idea.”

“She just willfully disobeyed me!” Bucky snarls. “I can’t let that go!”

Steve’s fingers curl over his shoulders in a squeeze and he ducks his head to fix him with a meaningful look. “Buck, hey, take a deep breath. You’re not handling this well.”

The message is clear. This is the way Steve talks to him when he’s trying to calm him down from domspace—and not the good kind of domspace, either. Bucky jerks away from his hold, but Steve arches an eyebrow, and so Bucky takes a few deep inhales and exhales, glaring at his husband the whole time he’s doing it. “She can’t get away with behavior like that,” he reiterates once he’s done. He forces his tone to be more calm so that Steve can’t hold it against him. “That was out of line. She needs to be corrected.”

“I know,” Steve says, still looking at him cautiously. “But we don’t have a discipline plan in place, so what’re you gonna do? Go grab her in public and drag her back here kicking and screaming?”

Bucky's jaw works in frustration. “No," he grits. "No, that won't work."

“Good. I'm glad you can see that.” Some of the tension releases from Steve’s shoulders, and Bucky instantly feels bad. Poor Steve. He’s already married to one erstwhile/sometimes mental case, and now he’s got another one on the extreme opposite end of the spectrum to deal with.

“Sorry,” Bucky says tightly, turning away in embarrassment. He can still feel the ticking of his pulse in his veins, and the desire to control pulled tight throughout all his muscles. “Sorry,” he says again, going back to sit at the breakfast bar.

“It’s okay, Babe.”

He scoots back in to the counter and grabs his fork, moodily spearing another bite of the cheesecake. His thoughts still linger on the showdown with Mary as he chews, and after he swallows he mutters, “The hell’s gotten into her?” Normally she’ll go soft as a stick of butter the second he starts talking sternly at her, but this time she’d seemed to actually harden against him the more he tried it.

Steve comes over with the to-go mug, emptying a Splenda packet into it. “You think it has anything to do with you kissing her?”

Bucky frowns, not having considered that. He shakes his head grumpily. “No. She’s been coming down every night. It doesn’t make any sense for her to be acting like this."

“Okay, but Babe … maybe we should try to get her in to see Linda this week. See if there’s something she needs that we’re not—”

“What she needs is a quick trip over my lap,” he growls, left hand flexing. “She’s bratting.”

“She does like to go to the gym,” Steve hedges, but he shuts up when Bucky shoots him a withering glare. “Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Damn right I’m right. Call the Center today. Try and get us in. The sooner the better.”

Steve nods. “And what do you suggest I do about her when she comes back?”

Bucky grunts and eats the last bite of cheesecake n his plate, vaguely aware that he would’ve savored it a lot more if he wasn’t so riled up over Mary’s behavior. “Just leave her alone. You’re right: we don’t have a discipline plan in place.” (Though he plans to correct that very soon.) “We’ll sort it out at this next visit. Linda already said she has strong indications for impact play.”

Steve winces. “Why do they need to put the word ‘play’ after everything?” Bucky shrugs, and Steve looks rueful. “You know she’s gonna throw a fit when you bring it up.”

“I know.” And he really doesn’t care. A dark thrill of dominance zips through Bucky at just the idea of putting Mary over his knee, of trapping her wrists at her lower back and holding her down, giving her a good spanking until she’s crying and grinding and sorry. “She’ll learn real quick that it’s what’s good for her. That girl needs consequences like a fish needs water."

“Uh huh.” Steve seems almost amused, but he holds up his hands again when he gets another glare from Bucky. “I’ll call and make an appointment, I will,” he promises. “But what about you, Babe?”

“What about me?”

Steve gives him a look. “You could stand to go in yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

His eyes slip down to Bucky’s left hand. “Babe ...”

Bucky looks down—Somewhere in the past few minutes, he’s bent the fork in his fist a little bit. Huffing, he sets it down.

“Take the morning off and go get a session in with one of the Pros,” Steve coaxes. “Spare your poor coworkers.”

Bucky scoffs and takes his plate to the sink to rinse it. “No. I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am,” he insists, giving Steve a warning look when it seems like he’ll argue further. “Steve,”

“Okay, okay.” Steve holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help.”

Bucky softens, feeling bad. “C’mere, you. Hey, I’m sorry.” He gives Steve a big hug, and then a kiss that’s equal parts possessive and apologetic. They part, and he smiles a little, nudging Steve’s nose with his. “You still having fun in the nuthouse?” he murmurs.

Steve ‘tsks’ at him for the joke and give him a chiding squeeze. “Yes,” he insists. “Now get going, nutso, before you're late. And don’t forget your coffee.”

Bucky gives him one last peck on the lips and then grabs his things. He puts his coat on and drapes his suit jacket over his arm at the door. “Try to keep her here once she’s back,” he says, frowning once again as he thinks about the “hours” remark Mary had made. “Ridiculous,” he mutters.

“I’ll head over to the gym in a bit. Make sure she isn’t overdoing it,” Steve promises. “Now go on, try to have a good day. Try not to make your secretary cry.”

Bucky huffs, though he is smiling a little as he heads out the door. He’s only ever made his secretary cry once, and Steve will never, ever let him live it down. “Bye Babe. I Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve

That evening, they bite the bullet and show Mary the letter that came in the mail: addressed to Bucky, from the circuit court of New York. It lists the court date for review of Mary’s case of custodianship.

Steve’s expecting a meltdown, but what they get instead is a morose sort of silence. He’s not sure he wouldn’t prefer the meltdown. Mary just sniffs and doesn’t talk much, picking her portion of dinner to smithereens before deigning to eat any of it. After their nightly tv time and Bucky's low key domming, she goes off to bed without bidding them goodnight like she usually does.

Steve wakes in the early hours of the morning, having to take a piss. He’s just flushed and is considering being naughty and slipping out to the kitchen to grab himself a slice of cheesecake, when he sees that Mary’s bedroom door is open. He sticks his head in to check on her, but she’s not in her bed. “Mary?” he whispers.

That’s when he hears soft noises coming from the kitchen.

It’s Mary. Steve stalls in place when he sees her, leaning back against the cabinets and face splotchy from crying. She’s dressed in her workout clothes again, hair messy like she’s already been out and back from another workout. Steve frowns worriedly when he spots her house keys and empty water bottle on the counter next to her phone. “Hey Mare,” he says quietly, so that he doesn’t spook her.

She sniffles as she sees him and hurriedly scrubs her face. “Oh. Hi Steve.”

“What are you doing up?” He takes a few cautious steps closer. “It’s late."

“Just wanted to get a snack,” she says, voice sounding tearful and pitiful. It’s such an obvious lie, Steve doesn’t even bother remarking on it.

“Were you at the gym again, Honey?” he asks. He’d had to intervene at the gym yesterday, when she’d been approaching hour number three with no signs of stopping. Now, he walks over and leans against the countertop’s edge right next to her. The room is dark, but he can just make out the silvery tracks left behind on her cheeks, the puffiness around her eyes. He smiles sadly at her. “You want to talk about it?”

Her expression pinches and she looks away. “No.”

“Okay.”

“... I went to the gym,” she eventually murmurs.

“Yeah, I cry at the gym, too. All the time.” Steve nudges his bare foot against her sneakered one. “Come on,” he coaxes. “I’m a good listener.”

“You’re a good tattletale,” she grumbles.

“Hey.”

“Well you are. You tell Bucky everything I say and do. And he’s always on me about everything and I just …” she huffs. “I just don’t want to deal with it sometimes.”

“Well …” Steve hedges, knowing that he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. “You could still tell me,” he offers. He lets his hand inch over on the counter’s edge and hooks his pinkie over hers. She looks down at it, then up to him. Steve’s mouth quirks. “Bucky can be a lot. I know. But he’s just trying to do what’s right. And you’ve gotta remember that he isn’t perfect. He has to live with this thing just like you do. Some days he handles it better than others.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Steve sighs. “Look, if there’s something you want to talk to me about, but you don’t want him to know, it can stay between us.” Mary looks over in surprise and Steve cringes. “Just ... promise me that you’ll talk it out with Linda, too?”

She hums noncommittally. “Walk me back to bed?”

“Course, Hon.”

She shuts herself into her bathroom and returns after a few minutes, dressed in pajamas and her hair towel dried. She seems surprised that Steve has stuck around when she sees him standing there, toeing the line of the doorway. "Oh."

“I didn’t know if you meant …” he shrugs. “Tuck you in?”

She smiles a little, though it’s sad. Steve thinks she might’ve been crying again in the shower. “Sure,” she says, tucking her head down. She gets into bed and Steve covers her with the blankets, then sits on the edge of the mattress for a moment. “So do you want to talk?” he asks softly.

She chews her lip for a long moment, and just when Steve thinks she’s about to turn him down, she whispers, “... I don’t think it’s working the same anymore.”

“What isn’t working?”

“The stuff with Bucky. The drops.”

Steve’s lips part in understanding. “Oh. I see.”

She nods and won't meet his eyes. “It doesn’t feel the same as it did before. Like it’s not as strong, or something. And it’s wearing off faster.” Her face pinches and for a second she really looks like she might cry.

“Honey?” Steve reaches to tuck her damp hair back from her face, and that seems to be what does it. She starts crying and turns into the pillow, hiding there as her breath hitches in tiny sobs. Surprised, Steve lets his hand fall to her shoulder, where he gives her a comforting squeeze. “Hey,” he soothes. “Shhh, it’s okay. It's okay.”

She shakes her head with a little whimper. “No it’s not. I th-thought they’d stop now. They did stop, for a while.”

“What stopped?” Steve asks, confused.

She sniffles, face crumpled up in distress. “I have bad dreams sometimes. That’s why I was up. Went to the gym to try and run it off.”

“Bad dreams?" Steve says, concerned. "You mean nightmares?" Sometimes Bucky has them too, so he's under no illusions about how debilitating they can be. "Mare?" he prods gently. "What are the nightmares about?”

She burrows further into the pillow, turning onto her side and curling up in a little ball. “Just stuff,” she mumbles. “From when I was a kid.”

Steve gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he has to really consider his words carefully before he speaks. He finally settles on a quiet, “Your dad?”

“... Yeah.”

Ouch. Steve swallows. “Honey … you really need to talk to somebody about this.”

She sniffles and shakes her head, and when Steve puts his hand on her shoulder again, she doesn’t try to shrug him off. “You promised not to tell Bucky,” she says.

Steve winces. “Yeah, I know.” Bucky and he already had a pretty good idea about this, but he doesn’t feel the need to point that out right now. “And you promised you’d talk with Linda,” he reminds. “It’s not safe for you to be sneaking out of here at night.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. "It’s just that ... the only thing that ever really made ‘em stop was getting drunk. And then with Bucky …” Her body shudders in a quiet sob. “But now it’s not working the same anymore! So what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, Mare.” Steve rubs her shoulder. “Shh sh sh, Honey, it’s alright. It’s a process. We just gotta figure out what works for you." He gives her a comforting squeeze. “We’ve got an appointment for tomorrow, okay? We’re gonna talk to Linda and figure this all out. It’ll get better, I promise.” He bends to kiss the top of her head, and soothes her with a gentle litany of murmured words as she cries. “It’s okay, Mare. We’ll figure this out. It’s all gonna be okay.”

She calms down after a while of that, and Steve gives her one last hug before he stands to leave. “Goodnight, Sweetheart. Tomorrow’ll be a better day, you’ll see.”

“Steve?” He turns back around to see her peeking at him from over the top edge of the covers. “On the dresser. On the top, there's a ... You can take it.”

He’s confused, until he goes over and sees the only thing that’s sitting on top of the room’s highboy dresser. His heart all but stops. Carefully, he slides it into the palm of his hand, dread filling his chest like cold water. “Mary,” he says, fearful. “Did you—”

“No,” she says. “But I was thinking about it.”

With a sinking sense of horror, he realizes what a massive mistake it was to tell Mary he’d keep secrets for her. “Mary,” he says warningly, “You know I can’t keep this from—”

“I’ll talk to Linda,” she says, looking at him with tearful, angry eyes that dig into Steve’s heart. “I gave it to you, didn’t I?”

Steve’s lips thin and he frowns, pained. “Where did you get it?”

“From work.”

“Why would they have these at your work?”

Mary squirms, looking embarrassed. “It’s for a lamé. For scoring the bread before it goes in the oven.”

Steve sighs and drops his hand, letting his fingers curl loosely over the razorblade. “There’s a limit to this, you know,” he warns. “I want you to feel like you can talk to me without worrying that I’m gonna tell him every little thing, but he’s still my husband. And that means that my responsibility is to him, first.”

Her eyes lower in defeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I know.”

“Hey.” He holds up the blade and gives her a pointed look. “And you can’t be doing this. Because at the end of the day, he’s still the one who’s legally responsible for you. He has to do what he thinks is in your best interest. We both do.”

She frowns and won’t meet his eyes, but after a moment she nods, and Steve believes that she means it when she mumbles a tiny little, “Kay.”

“Kay. You gonna try to get some sleep now?”

She nods, still tearful, but calmer. Steve gently bids her goodnight and heads for the door. When he’s almost got it closed, Mary calls out softly one more time. “Steve?”

“Yeah Honey?”

“Thank you,” she says, so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear. “I feel like … I just needed that. To talk to you.”

Steve’s shoulders relax and he smiles grimly, relieved to hear that he’s made her feel a little better, and that he’s able to be someone she can confide in. He even feels a little bit proud that she trusts him enough to tell him these things. It’s almost enough to take away his guilt over promising to keep secrets from his husband.

… Almost.

“G’night, Mary,” he says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Steve.”

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sarahowritesostucky · 6 days

Text

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 8

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted - a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

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I've gotten a couple of asks about the worldbuilding behind this fic. If you'd like to read a little more context about how things are in this world, my answers to the asks can be found here and here

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Part 8

"Extended Suppressant Use in the Omega Patient: a literature review" (Mueller et al. 2019)

The bathroom incident does not give Steve high hopes of an easy first week with Barnes. Many new students wind up requiring extra attention in their early days at the school, so Steve is honestly surprised when he isn’t paged that Tuesday with a similar fiasco. He’s outright impressed when Wednesday and then most of Thursday passes by with no incidents, either. Whatever Sharon’s doing, it must be working well.

Steve can’t say he doesn’t think about the boy regardless. He can’t help but remember their encounter in the bathroom; holding him down and dominating him into submission, pressing on his belly until he finally lost control. The sounds of the boy’s sweet whimpers are burned into Steve’s memory, the earthy and lightly floral hints of his scent still so easy to draw up in his mind. It’s a good thing that this is a busy week for Steve, otherwise he’d hate to think of how much more preoccupied he’d be by thoughts of his new omega charge.

As it is, his schedule is chock full, his time eaten up with all of his normal headmaster duties (which are considerable), seeing through the end stages of the Academy’s formal division between the girls’ and boys’ sides, and a renovation that they’ve got going on in the south wing corridor. All of that, coupled with the small squabbles that Peggy manages to come up with on an almost daily basis, helps to keep Steve’s mind occupied. And on top of everything, there’s still a lot to be done for the upcoming parents’ weekend.

He spends most of that Thursday morning dealing with matters directly related to the event that is, in essence, their biggest fundraiser of the year. All day, he's coordinating with his faculty; making sure that everything’s been ordered, scheduled, and arranged just how it needs to be to give the right impression to their guests, provide the right experience.

It’s crucial that all of the right people be well taken care of over the three day weekend, in order to ensure that their endowments to the school keep flowing in. Steve liaises with his staff over the details of the family picnic, the various assemblies and presentations that will be made, the planned activities for each afternoon and dinners that’ll be hosted each evening, and—perhaps most important of all—the formal presentation ball that caps off the weekend of festivities. This year they’re having a few ice sculptures flown in from Edinburgh. Silly in Steve's view, but a classic touch of extravagance that the guests will appreciate.

European nobility, old-money aristocrats, and even some high profile celebrities have been known to show up to the school’s annual matchmaking ball, always seeking amenable, traditional omega mates for themselves. And when your guest lists regularly include names like Vanderbilt, Kennedy, and Stark, good first impressions become very expensive and very necessary. Last term, a Greek shipping heir worth billions had scooped up one of the graduating class’ students, and once news of that had gotten around, enrollment for the next semester skyrocketed.

Steve takes great pride in the academic education provided by his school, but he’s also a realist: He knows that parents place high value on the promise of even a chance for their offspring to be so suitably matched. That, along with the behavioral outcomes the school is known for achieving, is a big reason why many families elect to send their sons to Carter Academy over other, similar schools on the continent.

With so much to get done, Steve doesn’t get around to eating his lunch that day until well into the afternoon. He eats alone at his desk—a decision that has very little to do with the fact that he can monitor the school’s video surveillance system from his desktop computer. It’s not because he wants to check up on Bucky and hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kid since Monday. Nope, not at all. Steve always uses the camera system to check in on the happenings around campus, it’s nothing new. And it’s good practice, anyway. A headmaster needs to be involved in his school for it to run smoothly.

If Bucky’s seventh period class is gym, and the gymnasium is the first area Steve decides to check, well that’s just happenstance.

He logs into the system and scrolls through the long list of camera views. He has the most heavily trafficked areas bookmarked, but there are hundreds to choose from, every inch of the Academy’s buildings and grounds monitored by the StarkTec cameras.

Carter Academy has its own dedicated security team to keep an eye on things, of course. Rumlow and his men do a very good job of making sure the close to three hundred hormonal teenage boys that the school houses stay in line. Every year there are inevitably fights, students caught in each other’s bedrooms at the wrong hours for the wrong reasons, or a few runaways who gravely underestimate the distance and terrain between Carter Academy and the nearest town. Nothing that isn’t always quickly remedied, but parents appreciate the close eye that Steve and the rest of his administration are able to keep on their children at all hours of the day.

He navigates to the camera views of the gymnasium and sports complex. The majority of students get scheduled for some sort of physical activity at the end of each school day. Exercise is important for omega bodies, and the gym period is thus positioned after all academic lessons have concluded, to allow for the running off of excess energy. It’s a time when their Handlers can take their well-deserved breaks. With only Mr. Odinson and the other Phys-ed staff looking after so many boys, gym period can get quite chaotic, and it predictably takes Steve a few moments to locate Bucky in the throng.

Eventually he sees him: loitering off to one side of the indoor soccer field, half heartedly kicking a ball back and forth with the Parker boy. He’s changed into his gym uniform, though he hardly seems to be exerting himself. Rather, he’s in deep conversation with Parker, which Steve is happy to see. Every first year student coming into Carter Academy usually struggles at first, but it’s always a good sign when they make friends quickly. Parker, who can normally be found bouncing off the complex’s obstacle courses, seems to have dialed it down a notch to hang out with Bucky, the two of them talking animatedly between themselves. Steve even catches Bucky smiling a time or two, which lifts his hopes that the kid will assimilate well into his new routine. Perhaps this won’t be as hard as he’d imagined.

“Sir?”

He flicks off the monitor when his secretary knocks at the door. “Yes?”

“Ms. Carter here to see you, Sir.”

Sharon comes in, and the two of them hold their pre-planned meeting about Barnes’ first days on campus and how Sharon has assessed his needs so far. Barnes is attitudinal, but Sharon seems to be amused by him, more than anything else. She hands over her recommendations for protocol, telling Steve that she’s not sure a male handler wouldn’t be in the boy’s best interest.

“Oh?” Steve raises an eyebrow as he’s perusing her checkmarks along the list. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve seen what a handful he can be,” Sharon drawls. “Not that I don’t think I can handle him, but he responds more submissively to the male staff, and I think he’s primarily same-sex oriented.”

“You think?” Bucky’s transcripts from his old school had noted that he was equally as promiscuous with boys as he was with girls.

“Yes. And after Monday’s bathroom incident, I think he might do better with a man.” At the mention of ‘the bathroom incident’, Sharon fixes him with a meaningful look. “He responded well with you.”

Steve nods, flipping through the assessment packet. “Yes, well I am the headmaster. They tend to kowtow faster to me.” He tries to think of which male Handlers he has available at the moment. Typically, he doesn't over-prioritize students’ attractions when placing them with a Handler, as romantic attachment is something to be avoided at all costs, but if it’s a behavioral issue that can be corrected with something as simple as the gender of an assigned Handler, then Steve will consider it. “Thank you Sharon,” he tells her, once they’ve wrapped up the meeting. “It sounds like he’s doing alright, so I’ll keep him with you for now.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Alas, yes.” Steve sighs and so does Sharon, mocking him in a friendly sort of way. When she heaves a genuinely heavy inhale and declares that she has to 'get back to the grind', Barnes’ seventh period is almost over, Steve steps in. “Why don't I take him off your hands for the evening?” he suggests. Sharon looks pleased, but not overly surprised, her knowing smirk making Steve feel the need to defend himself, “It’s been a few days now, I should check in with him.”

“Sure.”

Steve frowns at her continued smug expression. “He’s got an appointment with the doc I need to escort him to, anyways.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Sharon is still smirking when she bids him farewell, leaving the office to take the rest of her day off.

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes. Whatever. He’s not giving Bucky any more attention than he’d give any other troubled new student. He grabs the boy’s folder and rolls out from his desk, planning to head for the gymnasium complex and intercept him there.

… If he checks his reflection in the little mirror by the door on his way out, it’s only because he always does that and it's habit at this point. It’s the professional thing to do, to make sure one looks put together before heading back out in public. Certainly it doesn’t have anything to do with how he’s heading out to deal with Barnes. That’s just happenstance.

Seeing Bucky again after several days is refreshing, and seeing him being friendly with another student brings a literal smile to Steve’s face. This is a good sign. It bodes well for how Bucky will do adapting to his new life.

Peter Parker can be hyperactive and spirited, but he’s a sweet boy at heart with a solid head on his shoulders and a brain between his ears that he actually chooses to use more often than not. He’s done well in the Academy’s program, and he’ll be an excellent person for Bucky to attach himself to during his time here. Steve stands by the gymnasium door with a delighted smirk on his face, because he really couldn’t have chosen better himself.

The boys still have a few minutes left to their gym period when Steve gets there, so he leaves them to their uninspired soccer ball kicking and goes to touch base with Odinson in the athletic director’s office. Thor is all smiles and has nothing negative to say about any of the boys, as per usual, and Steve thanks him and tells him to make a note that perhaps Barnes could be encouraged to put a little more effort in and try out the parkour courses or the rock walls with Parker, moving forward.

He intercepts Bucky just as he’s coming out of the locker rooms. His hair is curling at the edges after having showered (amusing—the boy was barely exerting himself) and changed back into his regular uniform. The relaxed expression falls right off of his face when he sees Steve standing there. “Oh,” he says, coming up short. “You.”

Steve smiles indulgently. “Yes, I’m afraid. Me.”

“Hey Bucky I’ll see you at dinner maybe?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says distractedly, eyes still on Steve. “Sounds good.”

Parker heads off with his handler—Natasha, Steve notes, one of the very best and most dominant females he keeps on staff. "Making friends?" Steve asks.

Bucky ignores the question. “Why’re you here?” he asks mulishly, as Steve begins escorting him in the direction of the medical office. “Where’s Sharon?”

“Sharon’s taking a well-deserved break,” Steve drawls. "She and I had a progress meeting about you in my office, just now.”

Bucky gets tightlipped then and doesn’t say anything, but Steve can see the wheels and cogs turning in his head as he wonders what was said about him. “She had mostly good or neutral things to report,” Steve offers, figuring the boy could use some reassurance. “But of course, I already knew from our interaction on Monday that you're having some difficulties adapting to school protocol.”

Bucky scowls at the floor as they walk. “Just because I don’t like pissing in front of people every day,” he grumbles. “At least we get some privacy to shit around here. Go figure.”

Steve laughs, then decides to strike the fear of God into the boy by remarking, “Oh, that’s a privilege that can be stripped away, too, if needed,” as they approach the end of the hall where the medical offices are. Bucky’s eyes shoot up to him, wide as saucers, and Steve snickers. “Yeah, I know. A true case of a ‘this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you’ punishment, that’s for certain.”

Bucky all but ‘meeps!’ and Steve snickers and puts a hand on his back to guide him into the office. “Appointment for James Barnes,” he tells the receptionist, who immediately starts checking the computer screen.

Bucky turns on Steve, leery, as he gets a look at their surroundings. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

Steve ignores him until he’s gotten the go ahead from the receptionist and is guiding Bucky back towards one of the exam areas. “Just a check up. Standard practice for incoming students.” He pushes Bucky into the curtained off area and draws the curtain around to Bucky’s squawks of protest.

“What?! I don’t need to see anybody. I’m totally healthy.”

“That’s the goal. But we need to get you checked out, make sure there’s nothing that needs addressed.” Bucky opens his mouth to complain again, but Steve beats him to the chase, bending to pick him up by the waist and depositing his protesting butt onto the exam table. “Sit.”

“Hey!” Bucky’s scowling, but Steve doesn’t miss the light flush in his face at having been manhandled and reminded of his size and comparative weakness in the face of an alpha like Steve. He doesn’t try to get off the table at least, only shifting in annoyance and making the paper cover crinkle under his butt. “Could’a done it myself,” he grumbles.

Steve shakes his head fondly. “We need to get you examined. Behave, or I’ll have no problem with disciplining you while you’re under my care." Bucky goes tight-lipped at that. Steve nods in satisfaction. "Good."

“When’s Sharon coming back?”

“I told you: she’s been given a well-deserved night off. You’re with me until bedtime, young lady.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. What might’ve been considered affectionate a generation ago, now elicits only indignation and pushback. It’s sad. “Just behave for the doctor, will you?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but when the nurse arrives and introduces herself, he’s generally obedient as she runs through his medical history with him. He speaks more quietly when answering the questions about his sexual health, but Steve doesn't get the sense that he's lying—only that he doesn't want Steve to overhear. (Steve still hears everything, including the boy's very reluctant answer of having had "thirty something" past sexual partners).

Far from evoking displeasure, it mostly just makes Steve sad for the boy. Omegas may have very high sex drives, but they don't fare well in promiscuous situations. Bucky's lack of a reliable partner is probably one of the major contributors to his present mental health issues.

Steve remains quiet and allows Bucky his illusion of privacy on the other side of the curtained off area. The nurse listens to Bucky's heart and lungs, charts his blood pressure and other vitals, and takes a blood draw. It isn’t until she hands him a privacy sheet and tells him to undress below the waist that he kicks up a fuss. “What?"

“The doctor will be right in to do the pelvic exam.”

“What? No. Why?!”

Used to tantrums, the nurse completely disregards him and looks to Steve. “Headmaster?”

“I’ve got him.” The nurse nods and leaves, and Bucky starts to move to try and get off the exam table. Steve rolls his eyes and goes over and pushes him back into place. “Not so fast, son. Now if you can’t behave we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

“What’s the hard way?”

“Strapped face down on a bench,” he tells him, no-nonsense (though really, that's the easier way for omegas. He just knows Bucky will fight it more). “And that'll earn you a guaranteed spanking in my office, after.”

Bucky growls an angry little omega growl at him, “Why do I have to do this? What’s the friggin’ point?!”

With his hands clamped on Bucky’s shoulders, Steve bends down and gets in his face. “Because you were popping suppressants for two years, Honey. That stuff can cause all sorts of problems.”

“No it can’t!”

Steve ignores him and gives him a warning look to keep him in place. He reaches down and pulls one of the exam table’s metal stirrups out, which makes the kid even more visibly upset.

When Steve reaches under the skirt of his uniform to get his underwear down, Bucky growls and tries to kick him, nearly kneeing him right in the nose. Oh. That does it. Steve gives up on playing nice, standing up and grabbing him, using one hand to scruff him while he wraps the other around his waist. “Okay, bud. That was your one chance. If you’re gonna be difficult, we’ll do it your way. Let’s go.”

“Nngh! Lemme go!”

“Calm down, Honey. Stop fighting, it’s not going to work.”

The kid whimpers and goes limp for a few seconds from the endorphins of the scruff, but still wiggles in Steve’s arms once he’s manhandled him into the next exam room over—where there’s an exam bench quite similar in function to a traditional spanking bench. Bucky balks when he sees it. “No! Wait!” It takes laughably little effort to get the boy face down on the bench. Steve gets him strapped to it, and by the time he’s removing his underwear and securing his ankles, all the fight has left Bucky and he’s begging instead. “Please, Mr. Rogers. I’m really sorry.”

Steve grabs the room’s extra chair and pulls it over to sit by his head. “I know Buck. This won’t take long. Just try to relax.”

“Please lemme up. I’m sorry. I’ll go back. I’ll do it the other way, I will!”

“Can’t do that, Sweetheart. We need to check that everything’s alright and you’ve proven to me that you can’t be trusted to hold still.” He might’ve considered the request to go back and ‘do it the other way’, if he didn’t already know full well that the prone position is much more soothing for omegas to be in. “This’ll be better,” he promises. “It’ll help you stay relaxed. It feels nice to be strapped in like this, yeah?”

“But I don’t want tooo,” Bucky whines, not refuting Steve’s statement, and with less fight in him as he realizes that he’s been stripped of all control. “It’s embarrassing.”

Steve smiles sadly and pets his face. “It’s for your own good, Sweetheart. Something every omega has to do. The doctor’s just going to come in and use a tool to examine you and make sure everything’s alright. It’ll hardly take a minute.”

Bucky sniffles and turns his face into Steve’s hand, nuzzling his inner wrist and subconsciously seeking out the alpha’s scent for comfort. “Will it hurt?” he whispers.

Steve’s heart constricts—both at the question and the scenting behavior. “No, Honey. Of course not. Haven’t you ever had a reproductive health exam?” It’s supposed to be a standard part of healthcare after an omega’s first heat, but with only two beta parents in the home, Steve doesn’t know why he’s surprised. “It won’t hurt,” he reassures him. “Just relax down against the bench and be good from now on, and we won’t do a punishment spanking after, okay?”

“Really?” Bucky is clearly motivated by this promise, as he stops sniveling as much and nods when the doctor comes in. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Steve smiles and praises him,

“Good girl.”

The school’s doctor is a calm and friendly beta male, and though he doesn’t make any attempt to ascertain Bucky’s consent or opinion on what they’re doing there today, he does speak calmly to Bucky and talk him through each and every step of what happens, before it happens. Steve stays sitting right in front of Bucky the whole time, holding his hand and keeping his own wrist up by Bucky’s face so that the boy can continue to use his scent to self-soothe.

Bucky goes red in the face as soon as the doctor flips his uniform up and starts palpating and examining his genitals. Even though Bucky's almost certainly trying his absolute best not to get aroused, the faint scent of slick still hits the air after only a moment or two, and he cringes and whines in embarrassment. "Hngh ..."

“It’s okay,” Steve murmurs, trying to placate him with the words and a gentle rumble in his chest. “It’s completely normal to have a reaction. The doc's used to it. No big deal.” Frankly, for an omega to be touched between their legs and not become aroused would be cause for concern. They’re so sensitive down there that it’s to be virtually expected. But Steve can tell that this is little comfort to Bucky, who goes even redder in the face when the doctor hums in agreement and makes an additional comment about Bucky's arousal responses being healthy.

“I’m going to prep the speculum now,” he tells Bucky. “It’ll be cool and hard, but it won’t hurt you.”

Bucky whines in mortification, his eyes clenching shut. Steve shushes him and pets his hair, which he seems to like because he pushes into it and untenses somewhat. Steve knows the precise second that the speculum goes in though, because Bucky's eyes pop right back open and he makes a small, shocked sound of, “Oh!"

Steve cups his face and tries to keep his attention. “Hey, you’re doing so good,” he praises, swiping his thumb at the corner of the omega’s eye, right where an overwhelmed tear has broken out. “Doesn’t hurt, right?”

Bucky trembles and shakes his head. “N-no.” He whimpers when the doctor does something from behind, and then his eyes go a little unfocused. “Oh …” The next time he whines, it’s verging a little closer to a moan of pleasure than one of sheer worry. “Ohnn… nngh, just … mmm, s’weird.”

Steve tuts sympathetically, slightly aroused himself at seeing Bucky react this way. He clears his throat and tries to remain professional. “I know, Sweetheart, I know it’s a lot. Just hang in there for me.” He meets the doctor’s eyes from over Bucky’s back, shooting him an anxious look.

The doctor nods. “Everything seems fine, Headmaster Rogers. He’s just a little swollen.”

“Swollen?” Steve straightens, concerned. “Is it bad? He was on oral suppressants for about two years.”

The doctor smirks and shakes his head. “No, not that kind of swollen, Sir.”

“Oh.” Steve’s shoulders untense. "I see." He's maybe read a few too many medical journal articles since Bucky told him on Monday that he'd been on suppressants. "Good. That's ... good."

The doctor hums and looks back down, examining Bucky for another long moment before humming in approval and removing the speculum. Bucky’s back slumps and he makes another tiny noise—this time one of relief. “Is it over?”

The doctor pats his hip with an approving nod. “He’s a healthy boy. Nothing to indicate any lasting effects from the medication.” Over Bucky’s back, he meets Steve’s eyes again. “The risk for complications doesn’t go up very high until after the five year mark. We’ll wait on his bloodwork, but I expect it’ll all come back normal.”

“Oh, good.” Steve can’t help but be relieved. He’s definitely read too many articles, seen too many students come through the school's infirmary with much more serious side effects. “So no chance of infertility?”

“Very low,” the doctor reassures, even as Bucky makes a hurt little sound of concern over hearing that possibility. The doctor rolls his stool out from behind Bucky, pulling off his exam gloves and tossing them in the waste bin. “Nope. He looks perfectly normal, Headmaster, both inside and out. From the state of things I’d say he’s about midway through his cycle. So you can expect a heat within the next two weeks.”

Steve nods. “Yes, he reported as much. He's used an app for tracking on his phone.”

“Oh. Would you email that data?” The doctor is already standing and heading for the curtain that divides their little area from the rest of the room. “It’ll be good to have in his records.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, doc.”

“Of course.” At the edge of the exam area, he looks back at Steve. “Ahm … he’s fairly aroused right now.”

Steve smirks. “I know.”

“Right.” The doctor glances back at Bucky, then to Steve. “I can send one of the nurses in, if you have anywhere to be.”

Steve shakes his head and dismisses the man. “That’s alright. He’s mine for the evening. I’ll handle it.”

Reassured, the doctor nods and ducks out around the curtain. He’s barely gone for a second before Bucky’s shifting in place on the table. “Um, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve looks back down. Bucky is blinking at him, flustered and uncertain. Steve pats his shoulder. “You did really well, Bucky.” He stands up and goes behind him, over to the room’s glove dispenser. He pulls out one of the large sized nitrile gloves and pulls it on. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uhm. Okay.” Bucky can’t see him from his position, so he wiggles impatiently. “Can you help me to, erm, get off of here?”

“Hmm.” Steve walks over and sits on the doctor’s abandoned rolling stool. He rolls to Bucky’s side, popping into his field of vision and giving him a knowing look. “You sure you don’t want help with this first?” At ‘this’, he lets his gloved hand touch Bucky’s flank, edging closer to his exposed backside. He watches as the boy's eyes widen and his cheeks colors anew. “It’s okay to ask for help,” he reassures. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Bucky lies.

Steve arches an eyebrow. “You sure? Masturbation isn’t allowed. Did you remember that rule? You need to ask the staff if you need release.”

Bucky huffs angrily. “Why not? Why do we have to ask you guys? Why can’t we just—”

Steve taps his ass lightly, more to get his attention than anything else. “Submission, Honey. We’ve been over this already. That’s what everything here comes back to: learning to depend on somebody who can take care of you and give you what you need. You have strong sexual urges, and that’s okay. It’s completely natural. But you need to learn to turn to your alpha to get your needs met., otherwise they never fully will be.”

Bucky pouts. “You’re not my alpha.”

“That collar around your neck says different. And so does the paperwork your parents signed.” Bucky's face twists into a frustrated moue, stubborn little thing. Steve sighs. “Hey, I know you didn't choose this. I’m your official alpha right now, but one day you’ll find someone you actually want to be with, someone you want to marry and have a family with. All these rules you're learning are just to help you adopt healthy habits. So you can model correct relationship patterns.”

"I already do."

Steve snorts. "Honey, casually sleeping with 'thirty-something' people by your age is not a healthy relationship pattern."

"You just want us all to be lily white virgins."

Steve rolls his eyes as he rolls the stool farther back towards Bucky’s backside. "Certainly not. But hookup culture only serves irresponsible alphas and betas. It doesn't do anything to help you guys with your needs for bonding hormones."

"Another scientific study?" Bucky sneers.

"You got it." Steve looks down, a quick glance showing him what he already knew he’d find: a wet and swollen, little pink rim, clenching hard on nothing. He tuts sympathetically. "Oof. That looks painful."

“Hey, don’t … don’t look,” Bucky complains.

“Oh, hush.” Steve pats his butt—he really does have the sweetest little ass. “You’re very beautiful, Bucky. Every part of you is.”

That, right there, is Steve stepping over the line. Oh, he’s got no qualms about personally appreciating the form of an attractive young omega student, it’s only natural for him to find Bucky beautiful. What’s less appropriate is him commenting on it. Because, to be blunt, not every student in Steve’s care is traditionally attractive. Steve’s still responsible for helping them all equally, and thus it’s always been his policy to avoid complimenting students on their looks when possible. It avoids hurt feelings, subverts any competition between the students who are more naturally prone to jealousy over their shared Alpha headmaster.

But the words are out of his mouth before he can think better of it, and Bucky reacts obviously in the way that he flushes and squirms, instinctively pleased at being approved of in such a way. Steve decides that, since it’s just the two of them alone, he might as well let his guard down a little bit. Bucky’s shown a propensity for skewed thinking, after all, and he needs to be helped to form a positive self image. “You’ve got a lovely body, Buck. Even here.” At ‘here’, he lets his thumb dip a little further into his crack, not touching his hole, but pulling his cheek out enough to get a really good look at the sweet little clench of his rim. Steve hums appreciatively. “Just like the doc said: very healthy.”

Bucky whines and squirms. “Let me up.”

“I can do that. But you’re very wet, Honey.” Steve reaches down between Bucky's legs to glance fingers over his stiff little prick. “And hard.”

“Nnn.”

“You’re not going to have a very pleasant evening if I leave you like this. Are you sure you don’t want some relief?”

Bucky’s body stays tensed, his asshole blurting out more slick from Steve’s hand touching him even just that little bit. He seems to consider it as a real option for a moment, waffling over his decision, but eventually gets out a terse little, “No,” forcing himself to ignore what his body needs. “I don’t.”

“Really?”

“I don’t want you to do it,” he grits.

Steve sighs, not too surprised by that. Bucky’s still resentful of the one person who has complete authority over him. Steve'll probably be the last person he yields to. That’s the way it often goes with the bullheaded kids: they come around to their teachers first, Handlers second, and submit to Steve as their alpha last of all. It’s to be expected, but Steve can’t say he isn’t more disappointed than usual, in this case.

Because he isn't lying to the kid just to improve his self esteem: Bucky really is uncommonly beautiful. A handsome, small but strong boy who is exactly Steve’s preferred type when it comes to omegas. And his scent is … Well, all omegas smell lovely, but Bucky's scent is unusually fascinating.

Ever since that first day in Steve's office, when he'd submitted with such an easily provoked release, Steve’s wanted to get a better sense of him. This would have been the perfect chance to do that. Steve would’ve relished the chance to coax an orgasm out of him today, but if Bucky needs more time to truly relax into it, then he's willing to wait. Not like there won’t be plenty of opportunities in the future, once the boy's sexual urges have built up enough to have him eagerly submitting.

Steve closes his eyes and takes one last, indulgent inhale of that spiced, floral scent that’s only made stronger by the arousal. Viburnum, he realizes. That’s what it reminds him of. It clings to the edges of the earthy undertones of Bucky's scent, enhancing it to something truly alluring. Regretfully, Steve pats his hip and rolls away on the stool. “Okay,” he says, trying not to let the disappointment come through in his voice. “That’s alright, Sweetheart. I’ll have the nurse sent in to help you.”

“What? No.” Bucky twists his head in the restraints once again to look back at Steve where he’s removing the medical glove and standing up. His eyes widen when he sees the blue glove going into the waste bin, not having realized that Steve had donned it, having literally been prepared to finger him to orgasm. His mouth works helplessly for a moment, open and shut in a loss for words. “I don’t want anybody to do it.”

Steve walks back around in front of him and crouches down to his level, fixing him with a doubtful look. “Well that’s your choice, Honey. But you still won’t be allowed to touch yourself, you do realize that? If you change your mind after lights out tonight, then you’ll have to wait all the way until tomorrow morning to get a staff member to give you any relief.”

Bucky pretends to be unaffected, but Steve can see the brief flash of panic in the boy’s eyes at the prospect of going that much longer without an orgasm. “Fine,” he says, putting on a brave face. “I don’t care.”

Steve isn’t a fool. He knows that Bucky is almost certainly planning to break the rules and touch himself at the first available opportunity. Still, some lessons can’t be taught until mistakes are made and bad behavior corrected, so Steve nods and stands up to start unbuckling the bench’s restraints. “Okay, your choice, bud."

Bucky climbs off the bench once he’s able to, and Steve hands him his underwear to put on. His little prick is completely erect as he hurriedly pushes the uniform’s skirt back down, and he winces in discomfort as he pulls up the two layers of his underwear and gets them into place on his oversensitive body. “Ugh,” he huffs quietly. “Stupid.”

Steve chuckles, though he honestly feels more pity for the kid than anything. Bucky’s regret over having turned down an orgasm is so obvious it’s near palpable, his scent still rich with arousal. And just like Steve knows without a doubt that the back of the boy's underwear is already getting a wet spot, he also knows that he'll be checking the dormitory’s security feed later that night. With the level of certainty he has over Bucky’s plans to break the rules and touch himself, Steve figures he might as well start planning out what corrective measures they’ll inevitably be instituting as punishment.

“Come on,” he says, putting an arm around the kid’s shoulders and guiding him out of the room. “It’s dinner time. You must be getting hungry.”

Bucky says that he isn’t, but his stomach betrays him by growling loudly not two seconds after.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

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