A/N: *waves behind couch that I'm hiding behind* HEY THERE GUYS. So this is not TDDUP and it's not even AYS but... hopefully some of you will enjoy it. I know, I know, I have no business writing another escort AU when I've got a full length one in progress that hasn't been updated in forever but... I wrote one anyway lol. Mainly I just really wanted to try my hand at AU Stucky for the first time and this is what struck my fancy the most. So please, no anon hate. I know I've got other stuff to work on. It's all still not abandoned. I'll get there. In the meantime, have this fun little Stucky romp, if it's your cup of tea :)

My undying love and thanks to midnightwings96 for always being there for support and guidance even when I get on a kick with a ship she's lukewarm on at best lol I LOVE YOU, my undying love and thanks also to MorningGlory2 whose feedback was the highlight of my week and who actively feeds my Stucky kick and I LIKE IT lol I LOVE YOU TOO. And finally, to you lovely readers and followers, I love you all from the bottom of my heart and hope to have more for you soon on the TDDUP end of things, especially now that I'm done screwing around with this thing and have no reason not to buckle down and get back to it lol :D I LOVE YOU ALL AND SHALL SEE YOU SOON :)

The sound of the doorbell ringing made Steve freeze on his couch, chopsticks halfway to his mouth and eyes darting away from the TV mounted on the wall. He furrowed his brows and checked the time on his watch - 7:30 pm - and felt his knee-jerk suspicion grow deeper when a knock on the door followed the doorbell.

He wasn't expecting anyone. A delivery man, maybe, but this was well past standard delivery hours. Setting his box of takeout down on his coffee table and mentally preparing for all possibilities of who just might be on the other side of the door, he stood up and quickly strode towards it. His gun wasn't currently on his person but he didn't especially need it, particularly, so it didn't give him any reason for pause as he unlocked the deadbolt and then reached for the doorknob.

Maybe it was a neighbor. Could be a solicitor, possibly. Or one of his friends, he supposed, but he couldn't think of a single one who wasn't busy tonight. It was kind of why he was sitting at home alone eating Chinese food, after all.

He opened the door and was met with the surprising sight of not a solicitor or a neighbor or even an ex-prisoner with a grudge but rather an impossibly attractive stranger. Tall, dark haired and blue-eyed, dressed in dark jeans and a dark shirt and a black leather jacket, the man blinked at him as if in surprise of his own before half-stuttering, "Steve? Rogers?"

Steve furrowed his brows at the oddly nervous way the question was posed. "Who are you?"

The man looked him over, subtlety lost on him as his eyes lingered on Steve's somewhat new beard he was sporting, and to Steve's surprise he grinned and chuckled with all seeming nervousness gone, "Well damn. I wasn't prepared."

Steve's expression grew almost comically confused. "What?"

He simply shook his head, hands shoving into the pockets of his jeans as he bit his lip very briefly before replying flirtatiously, "Loki wanted to wish you a happy birthday and make sure it would be one you'd never forget it. So he sent you me."

Steve's mouth fell open slowly, fraction by fraction, brows set so hard on his face it was equally frightening and adorable. "Loki did what?"

Finally, the man rolled his eyes and sagged his broad shoulders a little, giving up the act for a moment. "Dude. I'm an escort. And I'm your birthday present from your pal Loki."

Steve's brows promptly flew so far up his forehead they nearly evacuated his face altogether. "You're an - are you serious?"

The grin returned, this man apparently finding Steve's reactions hilarious. "As a heart attack."

... He was gonna kill Loki. Loki was a dead man walking, wherever he was. He sent Steve an escort - a male escort - as his damn birthday present. It was so wrong on so many levels and he knew that Loki knew it, which made it all the more infuriating.

But the escort in question was just standing there, still wearing a little smile and appearing as cool as a cucumber while Steve panicked inside. "You gonna invite me in, Steve?"

Being addressed so casually like that by this stranger was enough to make Steve snap out of his daze and reply quickly, "No. You should go home."

The man's face fell, and Steve moved to quickly close the door so that he could go back to his couch and pretend that none of this had ever happened. But the escort quickly threw his arm between the door and the wall and exclaimed, "Wait! Wait, wait, please -"

"Listen," Steve said quietly, opening the door a little wider and shaking his head, "he wasted your time and I'm sorry." He then dropped his voice to a slightly scandalized whisper and muttered, "I'd never pay for sex, so -"

"Let me stop you right there," the man interrupted most definitely above a whisper, seriousness replacing the playful expression he'd worn when Steve had first opened the door. "I'm an escort. That means companionship, not necessarily sex. I'm here to show you a good time. Whatever that ultimately means for you - your choice."

Steve hesitated, quickly realizing that this conversation was not one that either of them needed to have in the hallway. He stepped aside and hurriedly motioned for the man to enter, and after he did Steve shut the door and started mumbling, "I'm gonna kill him. Gonna kill him. Son of a bitch I'm gonna kill him."

The man stood there, looking remarkably calm and nonplussed as he alternated between curious peeks around the apartment and looking at Steve with mild concern. Steve locked his door again - for reasons he couldn't really pinpoint - and then raked a hand through his hair before turning back to the escort in question.

The man smiled and held out a friendly hand. "So... I'm James."

Steve looked down at his hand and then back up, not meaning to be rude but finding himself too shook to participate in social niceties. "What did Loki tell you about me?"

James sighed and withdrew his hand, putting back in his pocket. "Well, he wasn't lying when he said you're wound up way too tight and need to let off some steam, obviously."

Steve glared at him, at this stranger who had no qualms calling him out. What a jerk. "He had no business sending you here. I was expecting a... a gift certificate to a spa or something."

Now it was the escort's turn to look confused. "A spa?"

"He told me he was sending me a birthday present," Steve muttered. "He said it was something relaxing. I was expecting a spa day or a... massage chair or something. Not a person."

James grinned again, apparently finding that quite funny. "Well, for what it's worth," he replied, getting that effortlessly flirtatious look about him again, "I'm way fucking better than a spa."

Steve stared at him blankly. He was in trouble. His heart was racing and he was beyond nervous, also furious with Loki and overall simply bewildered and confused, but there was one thing he knew for sure. "Yeah. I can't do this."

James' face fell yet again. "But -"

Steve simply shook his head, gesturing to the door. "I can't. Just go."

James furrowed his brows, now equally confused as he asked, "Are you straight? Is that the problem? 'Cause Loki said -"

"I don't know, I just -"

"You don't know?!"

"Yes, I know," Steve gritted out, eyes closed angrily and hands gesturing weirdly before he forced them to drop back to his sides. "Kind of. But that's not the point."

James eyed him and drew a deep breath as if to say oh boy. "Look, man, why don't you just calm down and breathe and... let me take you to get a drink."

Steve blinked at him. "What?"

"Take you. To a bar. For drinks," James explained as if to a small child, but with an amused tone to his voice that kept it from being insulting. "It's your birthday, right? So we can get you cake, too. I know a place."

Steve hesitated, unsure of even how to answer that. He was about to refuse and physically shove the guy out the door but then James held up his hands in a universally non-threatening way and added, "Like I said, s'just companionship, all right? Doesn't have to be anything else. But you're all alone on your birthday with apparently just takeout for company," he waved a hand towards the couch and coffee table, "and that's fucking sad. Nobody should have to spend their birthday alone."

Feeling a little embarrassed at that, Steve scratched at the back of his neck and shrugged. "Everyone was busy. It's fine. Some things can't be helped."

James nodded. "Some things can. So what do you say? Drinks, cake, and someone to talk to."

Steve took a deep breath, feeling crazy for even considering this for so very many reasons. But the truth was, while he fully understood why he was alone on his birthday and didn't hold it against anyone because they all really were legitimately caught up in other things, he couldn't pretend he wasn't lonely and a little disappointed. He felt silly about it, being as old as he was and birthdays hardly being the big days he used to anticipate as a kid, but it was what it was. And he didn't want to be alone.

"All right," he finally relented, bringing a smile to the escort's face. "Fine."

He was still gonna kill Loki, though.

"So," James said, leaning back on his stool with a glass of whiskey and looking quite pleased with himself, "glad you gave in?"

Steve feigned a sigh, lips slightly curling into a smile as he looked at the enormous piece of New York cheesecake sitting in front of him, next to his own glass of whiskey on top of the bar. The cheesecake came from a place he'd never tried before but James swore by, and he had insisted on stopping there on the way to the bar. It looked every bit as good as the man claimed it was, and Steve had to admit... it was already a huge improvement in his night.

But he wasn't about to admit that. "We'll see," he replied, shooting James a look that made him roll his eyes.

"Jesus, you've got that hard to get thing down," James noted. "Why don't you get started on that whiskey and loosen up a little?"

"Sorry," Steve shrugged, about to dig into the cake, "I'm still trying to process the fact that I'm sitting at a bar on my birthday with a..."

"... A what?" James asked with a grin and eyes that just dared him to call him something offensive.

But Steve would never do that, of course. Didn't even want to. He wasn't like that. "A stranger," he replied pointedly, a silent defense of himself.

"Ah. All right, well... let's change that then," James suggested, leaning one arm on the bar. "You already know my name. I was born in Indiana, grew up in Brooklyn. My favorite color's blue and I speak 4 languages fluently - English, Spanish, Russian, French. Oh, and I'm a Pisces, if you're into that kinda thing."

Steve blinked in surprise, forkful of cake in his hand briefly forgotten. "Four languages? Wow."

He shrugged. "Got a knack for it, I guess. So your turn. Tell me about yourself, Steve Rogers."

Steve hesitated and ate the first bite of cake to delay his answer, pausing immediately after it hit his tongue because holy hell. "God that's good."

He didn't notice the way James watched him take the bite, which for his sanity was probably a good thing. "Told you it would be," James said, reluctantly looking away from Steve's mouth and picking his drink back up. "I'm waiting, by the way."

Remembering the question, Steve got another bite ready and said, "I'm from Brooklyn too. I'm curious, though - did Loki happen to mention to you what I do?"

"Yeah," James nodded. "Said you're a workaholic, married to the job kind of guy. I think he said something about security. Security guard? Private security? Something like that."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. Of course Loki would make it sound as simple and non threatening as that. "Yeah. Homeland security." James looked at him curiously, taking another drink, and Steve added, "I work for the FBI."

James promptly choked on his drink, nearly spitting it out but forcing it down harshly just at the last minute. Then he started coughing hard enough for the bartender, a pretty little woman with aqua hair, to notice and slide a glass of water in front of him. He ignored it though and instead looked at Steve with wide eyes and said in a struggling, cracking voice, "You're a fucking Fed?!"

Steve tried not to burst out laughing, nodding and replying, "Yeah. Federal agent."

"What the fuck," James half wailed, eyes genuinely fearful as he looked at Steve nothing short of pleadingly. "Please don't arrest me."

"If I was gonna arrest you I would have done it already," Steve shrugged. "So relax."

He didn't seem convinced, eyeing Steve cautiously and taking a drink of the water, bringing his full voice back. "What kind of agent are you? Like a desk job kind of thing or..."

Steve shook his head, giving him a fleeting glance. "It's classified. But no, I don't have a desk job."

"Fuck," James said with wide eyes. "Classified? Seriously? Are you some high level action movie kinda shit?"

Steve laughed at that characterization. "Well I could tell you, but..."

"Then you'd have to kill me," James nodded, running a hand through his hair a bit miserably and managing to mess it up on top. Somehow it only made it look even better. "Yeah. Okay. Well this is... great. Ex-military though, right?"

Steve nodded. "That easy to tell?"

James shrugged. "You get to know the look pretty well when you see it in the mirror every day."

Steve hadn't hadn't pegged the man as ex-military himself, but in his defense he was still quite thrown for a loop over everything in general. "How long?"

"Couple tours," James shrugged like it was nothing. "You?"

"Same," Steve nodded, turning back to his cake. "Don't feel like I ever quite got out though."

"I don't think any of us ever do," James replied quietly. "Not really."

Steve nodded again, downing another bite and then turning back to James. He wasn't quite sure how to ask the question on the tip of his tongue, but he was too curious to hold it back. "How did you..."

James stared at him for a moment and then guessed with a small grin, "How did I what... end up an escort?"

Steve flushed with embarrassment and waved a hand nervously. "You don't have to answer that, I just -"

"It's all right," James chuckled, finding the man kind of adorable when he got nervous. "And to answer your question, I only do this on the side. I've got a day job."

"Oh. That's good," Steve replied, instantly furrowing his brows at himself and hoping he wasn't coming off as offensive. "I'm sure you do well for yourself."

"Yeah, why's that?"

Steve glanced at him to find a bit of a saucy smirk on his face, and Steve felt like his ears were going to burn off his skull. "Just... I don't... you know, you're..."

"... Jesus," James grinned, sipping his drink. "You can just say it, you know. I know I'm hot. You're not the first to think so."

Steve sighed and dropped his head down, smiling with more embarrassment and wondering what the hell was wrong with him. But James didn't mind, patting him on the shoulder with one hand and signaling for another round of drinks with his other.

"So what's your next question?" James asked. "Cause I can tell you're full of 'em."

Steve took a calming breath and decided so long as James was keeping the door open, he'd walk through it. "How do you know Loki?"

"He's a friend of mine," James replied. "Met him the same way I met you."

Steve should have assumed as much, really, but he hadn't. "Oh. So you and him..."

"Yeah," Bucky nodded. "Funny story there, actually. He paid for a Friday night with me and ended up turning it into a three day weekend. Could have taken off the rest of the month with what he paid me."

"Wow," Steve marveled, genuinely interested but also still embarrassed and Jesus, Loki. "Do you only do men?" His eyes widened in horror and he quickly amended, "Service men. Serve men? Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm just -"

That made James burst into an honest to God giggle. It was somehow still a masculine sound, however, and he replied through his laughter, "It's okay. And no, not just men. I do everyone." He then grinned and laughed again, and this time Steve did too.

"Okay, good to know," Steve chuckled, unable to shake the damn blush in his cheeks. Give him a terrorist cell to take down and he didn't flinch, but strike up a conversation with an incredibly attractive male escort and he was useless, apparently.

"It's not what you're imagining though," James added. "I mean, sometimes it is. Sometimes I just show up to a hotel room and leave a couple hours later and that's that. Other times, client just wants to show me off at some fancy party and get a blow job in the car after. Then I've got one lady who puts a collar on me and has me act like her pet, and I mean the whole nine yards - feeding, bathing, grooming, cuddling. All of that and zero sex."

Steve's eyes widened. "What?"

James grinned and shrugged. "She's a nice lady. I don't mind it, either. It's pretty relaxing and she seems to use it as some kind of therapeutic thing."

"Wow," Steve replied, having never heard of anything like that before. "Doesn't sound so bad."

"Not at all." James took a drink and then added an afterthought, "You'd also be surprised how much money people will throw at me just to come over and jerk off in front of them."

It was the absolute worst moment Steve could have picked to take another bite of the cheesecake. It was turn to choke and he did so magnificently, making James crack up laughing and slide his glass of water to Steve. He drank the water quickly and somewhat miserably, in dismay of his complete and utter lack of chill but he couldn't help it because now all he could see in his mind was exactly what James had said and -

"Well, I guess Loki was right," James concluded, leaning an arm on the bar casually again. "You're definitely not straight."

Steve, mostly recovered now, side-eyed his companion and asked, "The hell did he say about me?"

"... I think if I tell you word for word you might need CPR, but... basically, that you're a giant ball of anxiety and repression and that you need to either fuck or be fucked before you die of 'terminal frustration'."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm not that bad."

James raised a brow. "Really? Coulda fooled me."

Steve glared at him. "I'm not."

"When was the last time you had sex?" When Steve then paused and stared into the distance as he tried to recall, James them added, "If you have to think that hard to remember then it's been too long."

Steve shrugged dismissively, avoiding eye contact. "It's not a big deal. Really. It's not as important to me as it is to other people. I can live without it."

"I respect that," James nodded. "Still though. Everybody's gotta de-stress somehow. What about dating? Do you date?"

Steve actually winced a little at that particular question. "Sometimes. Never works out."

"That bad?"

"Not bad, necessarily," Steve shook his head. "One girl I dated ended up becoming my best friend. I just... suck at relationships, I guess."

"Yeah, well... join the club," James joked. "But you can worry about that another night. I'm here to keep it light and keep it fun."

"Yeah? Is there a survey I fill out afterwards where I rate how light and fun you were?" Steve asked, a bit of his sass returning now that some of his embarrassment had worn off.

James pretended to consider that for a moment, bringing his drink to his lips and telling Steve with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "No, but I have my own ways of gauging customer satisfaction."

Steve looked away, trying to ignore the slight shiver that raced down his spine. "And here I thought you'd clam up once you figured out I'm FBI."

"I probably should," James sighed, wincing like he'd forgotten about that little tidbit up to that point. "I blame you, though."

Steve turned back to him. "Me?"

"Yeah. You got a trustworthy kinda face," James shrugged. "Makes me wanna spill all my secrets. Maybe you should be a therapist instead of a Fed."

Steve laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "Yeah, no. I'm not a fan of therapy."

"Why not? Bad experience?"

Steve nodded. "Just didn't work for me. I don't know."

He was playing with the fork now, poking at the remaining cheesecake as James watched and then replied after a beat, "Well, the thing with therapy is you get out what you put in. You have to open up and do it because you want to, not out of obligation or making your nagging mom happy, you know? Gotta click with the therapist, too. I tried like 3 before I found someone I didn't wanna punch in the face."

Steve looked at him, this man who seemed so incredibly at ease and secure with himself and nowhere near as generally lost as Steve felt whenever he was forced to stop working long enough to actually think about it, and God Steve wished it could be the same for him. "Sounds like it worked for you."

"It's... not really as simple as that," James pointed out. "S'a work in progress, you know? You don't just wake up one day shiny new and fixed and stop going, stop working on yourself."

Steve nodded. "Well, I'm glad it's helped you out."

"Might help you out too if you give it another shot," James replied with a good-natured smile. "But I'll leave it at that. Light and fun and all that."

"Yeah, you're doing a terrible job," Steve teased. "Do you have a supervisor I can complain to?"

James chuckled and shook his head, retorting, "So I take an interest in the overall well-being of my clients - sue me."

"I don't think that would go over particularly well in court," Steve shrugged. "So I'll let you off the hook this time."

"Very generous, Agent Steve," James joked, earning a playful narrow eye from Steve. Then he gestured to the cheesecake and asked, "You gonna finish that?"

Steve looked down at the huge half-eaten slice and sighed, "No, I don't think I can. It's amazing but if I finish it I have a feeling I'll regret it. Don't usually have dessert."

James then grabbed it and slid it over, picking up the fork and digging in himself as he asked, "Why not? Not a big sweet tooth?"

"No," Steve shook his head. "Just don't think about it much. Also doesn't really help the whole staying in shape thing."

"Hasn't hurt me yet," James replied cheekily, downing a bite. "You shouldn't deprive yourself. Life is short. Too short to not let yourself have what you want." He took another bite, lips sliding over the fork and maintaining eye contact until Steve looked away, another blush creeping up his cheeks.

"That might be a dangerous mindset to have."

James shrugged. "Satisfying one, though."

Steve looked at him again, daring to meet that heavy gaze of his head on, and he just knew he was in trouble. He couldn't make sense of how he felt; on the one hand he felt remarkably comfortable talking to James, enjoying his wit and admiring his laid back but challenging nature. On the other hand, however, there was a nervous pit in his stomach that he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried, and it only got worse the more James toyed with him and flirted both subtly and blatantly.

The truth was obvious, but that didn't make Steve any more apt to accept it. He knew what he wanted, beneath his self-imposed layers of doubt and anxiety. James knew it too, and that was why he knew he was doomed.

Steve reached for his drink, mostly untouched, and downed it in one go. If his suspicions as to where the night was headed was correct, he was gonna need it. Otherwise he had a popsicle's chance in hell of not losing his shit.

Conversation remained easy as Steve had a few more drinks, the first two not doing much but the third making him feel a little tingly in his fingers. James kept their talk light, asking Steve what he watched on Netflix and then gaping in horror when Steve said he didn't have Netflix, only basic cable. That kept James going for awhile, giving an impassioned lecture on the invaluable awesomeness of internet streaming as well as several series that Steve had never heard of but were apparently the best things since the dawn of motion pictures themselves. He found himself laughing more that night than he had in ages, still knee deep in that odd mixture of anxiety and comfort, thoroughly enjoying every twist and turn of the conversation and finding himself genuinely caught off guard when James suggested they get the check and head out.

"What time is it?" Steve asked, slightly flummoxed and feeling just the right side of tipsy.

"Midnight," James grinned. "Lose track of time?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Steve said, not wanting the night to end just yet. Apparently it showed on his face, judging by James' next response.

"Well, I'm not about to turn into a pumpkin if you aren't. Back to your place?"

Steve nodded alarmingly quickly. James didn't make a big deal out of it or comment one way or the other, instead simply paying the bill - Steve argued hard, aghast at the very idea, but James was equally stubborn and eventually the exasperated bartender just rolled her eyes and snatched his card from him - and then heading out into the warm summer night to hail a cab.

The ride back was mostly silent, mainly because Steve felt far less comfortable in the presence of the cab driver even though he knew it was kind of silly. But James didn't question him and he passed the time by texting, apparently, though Steve didn't try to spy to confirm. Whatever he was typing, however, he did it rather furiously at some points while remaining perfectly cool otherwise. Steve silently debated what he was saying and to whom, which only partially distracted him from his increasing anxiety over what might or might not happen once they got back to his place.

It wasn't that he didn't want it. He wanted it, he couldn't be bothered to pretend otherwise anymore. It was the principle of it all. James, nice and easy and charming as he was, was ultimately just doing a job. And intimacy for Steve - nonexistent as it was - was not something he could reduce to a transactional thing. He didn't look down on others for doing so, didn't judge James for his choice of side work, but for himself... he couldn't fathom using another human being like that.

It left him in quite the pickle. He didn't want to keep depriving himself but he couldn't just ignore his nature, either. His dilemma prompted him to do exactly nothing, paying the cab driver and heading back ip his apartment door with James in tow, brain fixed firmly on autopilot.

They walked inside and his feet and mouth continued to work well despite his mental stalemate. He asked James if he wanted a drink and offered him the couch while he fetched him one. James happily accepted and Steve went about his kitchen numbly, screaming internally but functioning perfectly well on the outside. He was tempted to drink more himself but he didn't want to get drunk, knowing that wouldn't do a damn thing to help his already tenuous judgment.

He arrived at the couch with bourbon for James, water for himself. He sat down a comfortable distance away and cracked a smile when James said with his drink in hand, "Such a good host you are."

"Haven't forgotten my manners," Steve shrugged. "Mostly."

"Yeah," James agreed. "You're so polite you're sitting here having a drink with me when I know drinks and sitting around are the absolute last things on your mind right now."

Steve barely suppressed a sigh. This guy didn't play around or hold back his observations. He was glad, though - somebody needed to steer the night in one direction or another.

"But that's fine," James added, sipping the drink. "We can sit here and chat. Talk about the weather, baseball, my sister's Etsy shop. Like I said, it's whatever you want."

And that was exactly why Steve couldn't bring himself to take what he wanted. He could tell this man to get on his knees right there and he'd do it without so much as blinking, and that was why Steve couldn't do it.

"Except... you're not talking," James went on. "You're staring into that glass of water like it's a magic 8 ball and you're waiting for your answer."

Steve couldn't help but smile a little at that. Had it indeed been a magic 8 ball, he had no doubt as to what the answer to his unspoken question would be. Ask again later. Couldn't catch a break with anything these days.

"... You religious, Steve?"

Steve looked at James in surprise, furrowing his brows. "Religious?"

"Yeah. Is that why you're freaking out? Fire and brimstone and all that?"

"Oh. No," Steve shook his head. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" James asked softly. "Maybe I can help."

Steve drew a deep breath, his grip on the cold glass the only thing keeping him somewhat grounded. "It's... you're an escort."

It was the perfectly wrong thing to say. James' gently curious expression became flat instantly, a sort of disappointed realization dawning on his face as he looked away and muttered, "Well if you're that disgusted -"

Steve's face went up in horrified flames. "No, no, no - God, I swear, I didn't mean it like that."

James, on his way to getting to his feet, paused and shot Steve a skeptical look. "Then what did you mean?"

"I mean I'm... dammit," he groaned, running a hand over his face and feeling like a complete idiot. "I feel guilty, for one. Like I'd be taking advantage of you."

Offended expression softening by a fraction, James eyed him with slight exasperation. "You wouldn't be. I'm here for whatever you want. That's my job."

"And that's the problem," Steve replied, waving a hand for emphasis. "I can't do that. I don't have casual sex. I never have. Everybody else does and they love it. But I can't. It's not... not me."

James understood now. All the previous anger gone from his features, he didn't hesitate to reply, "Then that's who you are and there's nothing wrong with that. You shouldn't compromise for anyone."

Steve nodded, staring into his water glass again and letting the truth slip out from his lips at last. "But you make me want to."

The confession hung in the air between them, punctuated by the silence that followed and Steve's odd relief in having finally admitted it out loud. He wasn't sure what he expected next, but it wasn't James huffing out a laugh and letting his head flop back against the couch while he muttered, "You are the most fucking exhausting person I've ever met."

Steve didn't take offense to that. He grinned instead, knowing full well how true it was. He would know - he'd been exhausting himself his entire life. "Sorry."

"Don't be," James replied, leaning forward and placing drink on the coffee table before plucking the water glass from Steve's hands and doing the same thing. He turned his eyes on Steve and added, "Don't apologize for who you are."

James, still in his leather jacket, draped an arm over the back of the couch behind Steve and came closer but not too close, keeping just enough distance between them to keep Steve at ease. "I've got an idea."

"What's that?" Steve asked, watching James lick his lips absently and feeling like his ears were gonna burn right off his head.

"You have no idea what to do with me," James pointed out. "And that's fine. I'm also assuming you've never been with a guy before."

Steve nodded, blush growing even deeper. "No, I haven't."

"Not even a kiss?"

Steve shook his head. "Not even a kiss."

"But you've thought about it," James deduced. "A lot. For a long time."

Steve fought the urge to squirm under questioning, wishing he wasn't so damn embarrassed when he knew there was zero reason to be. "I don't know."

James' voice dropped down low and dangerous. "Yeah you do. Probably just depends on your mood what you think about to get yourself going. I'm the same way. It's okay to like everyone, you know."

"I know," Steve replied, forcing himself to make eye contact. "That's not the problem."

James nodded, appearing thoughtful for a moment as he looked Steve over. "So just... try me out. See how you like me."

Steve's heart somersaulted in his chest, possibly all the way up to his throat, and he repeated weakly, "Try you out?"

"Doesn't have to go anywhere. Doesn't have to end in any kind of sex or anything like that. Just... dip your toes in the water, you know? If you don't like it, if you're not comfortable, you won't hurt my feelings. I'll get it. But you'll never know until you try."

You'll never know until you try.

As it turned out, those words were exactly what Steve needed to hear. It took the burden off of his shoulders, took the indecision away and replaced with something simple, something that he understood. It wasn't all or nothing. He could just... give it a go. Try him on, see how he fit. Maybe he'd wanna put him back, but maybe he'd wanna keep him awhile. He'd never know until he tried.

"Okay," Steve agreed, quiet but resolute. He didn't doubt his choice, and James didn't question it.

"Good," James replied with a small, crooked grin. "Can I touch you?"

Steve's insides flip flopped in a way that almost made him let out an unintelligible noise, but he still managed to nod. James answered by placing a gentle, careful hand on his thigh, low enough to not be too much but high enough to display intent, and just that one touch had Steve's nerves on edge.

"I'd tell you to relax," James said with a wry grin, "but I don't think you can right now, can you?"

Steve shook his head. "No, probably not."

James smiled at him like he was adorable. "Can I kiss you, Steve?"

Steve either nodded or said yes, he genuinely had no idea which. Whatever he said or did, James smiled at him warmly and then began to lean in slowly, hand still on Steve's thigh and his other arm behind him. The closer he came the more Steve was able to catch his scent, leather and whiskey and bourbon and just the faintest touch of cologne, something dark and incredibly fitting, and it made his head start spinning faster than it already was as the distance between them shrank.

Steve closed his eyes just in time to miss the way James grinned almost fondly at him before closing his own. Then his hand crept up his thigh by just a half inch, grip fractionally tightening as he brushed his lips over Steve's so softly it took his breath away. He wasn't expecting anything so soft and so gentle, and it served only to send him into even deeper of a tail spin inside.

Then James did it again, pressing just a ghost of a kiss to Steve's willing lips, brushing the tip of his nose against Steve's feather lightly, and Steve was both floating on air and desperate to feel more. But James only teased him, treating him almost like he was breakable, and Steve chased his lips the third time that he drew away entirely too quickly. Their eyes opened and Steve found James looking quite pleased with himself, toying with him like that, and suddenly Steve's previously paralyzed hands came to life.

He reached out and grabbed James by the back of his neck and pulled him in, crashing their lips together in a real damn kiss that made him feel fireworks in his chest. James made a low, quiet noise of deep approval, hand leaving Steve's thigh to slid along his bearded jaw as he dropped the teasing act and kissed him back firm and eager. Steve was seeing stars, unable to remember the last time he'd felt like this and been this close to someone, touching them, kissing them, not alone the way that he always was. He felt their kiss throughout his entire body and was instantly, hopelessly hooked.

At the first tender, gentle swipe of James' tongue along his lower lip, a flash of heat raced down Steve's spine. Then James did it again and this time Steve met him halfway, the light brush of their tongues enough to make him groan deeply and feel himself harden fully in his jeans.

James pulled away after that, eyes dark and cheeks a little flushed as he met Steve's lust-addled gaze. His voice was low and damn near sinful as he asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"Come here," Steve demanded before his brain could even comprehend what he was saying, and James complied without hesitation. He climbed on to Steve's lap and then shed his jacket in front of him, tossing it on the empty side of the couch and then running his hands up Steve's shoulders. Steve's hands went to his hips out of instinct and James grinned at him, surely able to feel beneath him the effect he'd already had on Steve. But he didn't tease him about it, instead sliding both hands into his soft hair and kissing him again, long and hot.

It was so much better than anything Steve had ever imagined. Different from kissing and touching a woman in some ways and yet the same in others, all of it intoxicating and leaving him wanting more with every kiss and every measured, deliberate roll of James' hips against his own. He was so hungry, so deprived and on edge already that he knew he could come just like that and breathtakingly quickly if James kept it up. He knew what he was doing, knew it damn well, and Steve turned off his brain and happily gave himself over to the new experience.

James was kissing under his ear, nipping and licking and making a mess out of him as he murmured seductively, "What do you want me to do? You've got me all night."

And just like that, at those seemingly harmless, sweet words, Steve's brain came back to life with a roar and hit the brakes before he had a chance to stop it.

He had him all night. Because Loki had paid him. He was doing a job. None of it was real, no matter how well James played the part. It was one-sided by definition, artificial, pleasurable but empty.

James could feel the switch when it happened. He drew away from Steve's neck and blinked at him, at the sudden conflict and doubt mixed with desire so strong that it was painful etched on his face. "What? What's wrong?"

Steve hated himself for saying his next words out loud, but he couldn't help it. "I don't think I can do this."

"Why not?" James asked, thoroughly confused at the sudden left turn. He then blinked slowly and added quietly, "Did I do something wrong or -"

"No, God, no," Steve insisted, shaking his head. "No, trust me. It's just... I can't..."

"Can't what?" James pressed gently, genuinely just not understanding what could possibly be the issue.

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, trying to string together a set of words to explain what the hell was stopping him from having a good time. "You're being paid for this. You'd do whatever I ask you to do and I'd have no idea what you actually like or want to do, or even if you actually want to do anything in the first place. It's selfish on my part and I'm not... I don't like that. I don't wanna just use you."

James stared at him for a moment, still on his lap and hands still on his shoulders. He tilted his head slightly, furrowed his brows and said slowly, "You're afraid... I'm... faking it?"

Steve blinked back at him, surprised that he found that surprising. "I'm sure you sleep with people all the time that you don't really want to."

James' stare became flat. "Steve, have you looked in a mirror lately?"

Steve wasn't quite sure how to answer that. He wasn't an idiot and he knew plenty of folks considered him attractive, but that meant nothing as far as James as an individual with unique preferences. "But -"

"Oh, fucking hell," James rolled his eyes, leaning over and making Steve think he was gonna roll off of his lap and bolt to save himself any further headache. But instead he reached over and grabbed his jacket, rummaged through the pockets and then found his phone. He then straightened up and unlocked it, pushed something and then showed it to Steve. It was his app. "Look. See that? I'm gonna refund Loki his fucking money."

He turned the phone back around and starting tapping, and Steve's eyes widened in slight horror. "What? No! You don't have to - that's not what I meant -"

James merely shook his head and kept jabbing at the screen with his thumb. "It's already done. There. See?" He flipped it around again and Steve's eyes widened even further when he saw the refunded amount. James was not cheap. Then he locked the phone and threw it back towards his jacket. "Now I'm not an escort. I'm just a guy you met through a mutual friend. We went out, had some drinks, and now we're back at your place and I'm sitting on your lap because I want to, not 'cause I'm getting fucking paid to."

Steve suddenly couldn't breathe. What James had just done was so incredibly hot in such an unexpected way and he didn't know what to do with himself, what to say or how to proceed, but luckily James had it covered. He seemed to have a knack for that, knowing what to do while Steve flailed uselessly.

"Now that I got rid of the problem for you," James said, hands sliding up Steve's chest, "now can you tell me what you want?"

Steve had no idea where to start. He wanted everything, everything he could possibly fathom in that moment, and to spare himself the embarrassment of blurting something out he pulled James back in for another instantly hot, bruising kiss.

It was beautiful and perfect and yet not quite enough to stop Steve from pulling away abruptly and asking, "Are you gonna... can you afford what you just did? I don't wanna be the reason you're short rent or -"

"Steve," James sighed, "I promise you, I'll barely even notice the difference."

Steve raised an eyebrow. That was a hefty sum he'd returned. "Are you sure?"

"Do you wanna see my monthly budget and give me financial advice," James asked lowly, rolling his hips for emphasis in a way that made Steve clench his jaw, "or would you rather take me to your bed and fuck me?"

Something in Steve's brain short circuited, a thousand images each filthier than the next flashing before his eyes and the delicious reality of it all hitting him like lightning. His fingers, back on James' hips, flexed and he replied with a voice he barely recognized as his own, "You want that?"

He didn't ask it like he'd asked his previous questions, with that nervous edge that kept making James roll his eyes. Instead he asked it with a heat that made James grin and nod his head, leaning in and dragging his lips along Steve's jaw until he reached his ear. "Yeah, I fucking want that," he murmured, nipping at Steve's ear and making him shiver. "But I wanna take my time, too. I don't ever rush a virgin."

Steve groaned, James latching to an incredibly sensitive inch of skin just under his ear and sucking a Mark into it, replying through gritted teeth, "I'm not a virgin."

"In a way you are," James pointed out, licking over the mark he had left. "And I don't take it lightly. Gotta make sure I make it good for you."

"I a-appreciate it," Steve hissed, James biting down and making him want to crawl out of his skin in the best way possible.

"So whaddya say," James said, pulling back and admiring the flushed mess that Steve already was. "Wanna take this to bed, see what happens? If you want I'll even let you sit back and watch me touch myself, since that seemed to really get your attention back at the bar."

Steve almost moaned out loud just at the very suggestion. Almost. This man was utterly filthy and he'd never been with anyone like him before.

"Up," he finally croaked. "Get up."

James obeyed instantly, rising to his feet too gracefully to be fair. Steve stumbled up next, gesturing vaguely towards his small hallway and muttering, "Down there, second door."

James took off without another word, and Steve almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to keep up. Both of them tall men with rather long legs, the trip to the bedroom lasted only seconds and before he knew it, they were inside his bedroom and Steve was flipping on the light while James eyed his bed.

"King," he noted with approval, reaching down for the hem of his own shirt and pulling it up. "Good."

Steve opened his mouth to mutter something about not enjoying his feet hanging off smaller beds when the sight of the man pulling off his shirt made him stop dead in his tracks and stare with parted lips and a suddenly dry throat. He stared and might have even gasped out loud, walking closer and murmuring, "Oh my God."

The entire left side of James' back was covered in an utterly gorgeous display of ink from his spine to his side and wrapping around his arm to create a sleeve there. A beautiful, lethal-looking white wolf stood in contrast to a dark forest beneath a nighttime sky on his back, the shading and details utterly impeccable and dazzling Steve's inner art connoisseur. Before he even had a chance to think first he was touching the ink, pressing his fingertips to soft skin and tracing some of the lines on his shoulder blade as he marveled, "This is amazing."

James watched him over his shoulder, murmuring, "Thanks. Took over a year to finish it all."

"Did it hurt?" Steve asked, fingers sliding down James' shoulder and over his arm.

"Sometimes. But I don't mind pain with a purpose."

Pain with a purpose. Steve liked that and might have commented further had he not then leaned down and, on a sudden burst of desire and building courage, pressed a kiss where James' neck met his shoulder. Once he started he didn't wanna stop, hands sliding to James' waist and lips traveling slowly but increasingly open mouthed up his neck, James leaning his head to encourage him and reaching up to gently play with his beard as he did, scratching into it gently along his jaw.

"I like this," James said while Steve nibbled beneath his ear. "Wasn't expecting it. Loki said you were this clean cut pretty boy."

Steve chuckled. "He's been overseas too long. Hasn't seen me with it."

"He's missing out," James said, turning in Steve's arms and facing him again. "I mean, you're definitely pretty," he added, cupping Steve's face again and running his thumb over his lower lip. "But," he smirked, meeting Steve's gaze, "I don't think there's anything clean about you."

Then he kissed Steve once more and it was all hunger and passion from the beginning, no more hesitation or testing the waters, just pure want and need and the satisfaction of being able to take it. They stood there and devoured each other, hands wandering and touching and in Steve's case growing bolder, roaming down and groping his ass and finding it felt as good as it looked in his jeans. James groaned in approval and bit at Steve's lower lip, an act that prompted Steve to growl and, surprising himself, push James down to his bed with a rough little shove.

James bounced slightly against the mattress and grinned up at Steve, clearly pleased with how he was emerging from his shell more and more as the night went on. He bit his lip as Steve reached down and peeled his shirt from his shoulders, revealing a body that made James grin wickedly and breathe, "God bless America."

Steve tossed him a good natured glare and then issued an order. "Take your pants off."

"Gettin' bossy on me," James murmured, making quick work of shedding his jeans while Steve did the same. Steve kept his underwear on - boxers as opposed to James' boxer briefs - so James did too, making sure to toe the line of Steve's comfort level.

"You don't seem to mind it," Steve noted, kneeling on the bed and climbing up the length of James' body. He was so long and broad, well-muscled and toned and all hardness underneath soft skin and he was incredibly different from anyone Steve had ever been on top of before. He didn't have to worry about crushing him, didn't have to be delicate, and it was an intoxicating change. They were evenly matched and it allowed Steve a new sense of freedom and ease as their lips collided again and sent his senses spiraling even further than before. There were so many new points of contact, so much skin against his own skin and heat rising between them, and he couldn't help but groan into James' mouth and thrust his hips down against his own, looking desperately for friction.

James encouraged him with a hum of approval, moving with him and pulling his hips closer as Steve dragged his mouth down, determined to get his lips and tongue on every inch of skin that he could. His beard left a trail of redness along James' neck, collarbone and chest and across his ribs as Steve lost himself to the task, awash in the realization that he really did like this, liked James and his masculine body, and that his attraction to men wasn't only for fantasy's sake or something he liked the idea of but not the execution of. No, he was definitely into it, and the confirmation of this left him suddenly dizzy and almost giddy with the overwhelming need for more.

That need struck at an opportune time, considering where Steve realized he was and what was only inches away from him. His mouth had trailed down firm, defined abs and now he was nearing an elastic waistband and the last barrier left on James' body. He looked up, eyes trailing over the dashes of red streaking over smooth skin like his own personal work of art, then to James' hooded, lust-filled blue eyes as he breathed heavy and murmured, "Enjoying yourself?"

"I'm about to," Steve replied before taking James by extremely pleasant surprise and pulling the boxer briefs down, taking one short but incredibly satisfying moment to stare at the hard length that sprang before his eyes, then wrapping his hand around it and stroking slowly without hesitation, without a shred of doubt. James sucked in a sharp breath and seemed to almost flail for a moment, gripping the sheets and only letting go once he'd regained enough of his wits, and Steve couldn't help but grin.

"Fuck you warmed up to this fast," James exhaled harshly, watching Steve's hand move up and down leisurely, getting a feel for him.

That was the thing about Steve. When he was nervous about something or scared of it, he addressed that fear and uncertainty by diving headfirst into it, regardless of how crazy it made him appear to others. And when it came to something like this - something he very badly wanted and been curious about for ages despite how nervous it made him, his impulse to tackle it head on was tenfold.

And so, while James writhed gently under his grip and his legs twitched and shifted under the growing pleasure, Steve watched his eyes fall shut and decided to take a step further. He was high on it all, drunk on the sensations and newness, and he didn't think twice before leaning down and swiping his tongue across the tip. To say it caught James off guard was an understatement - he cursed satisfyingly loudly and his eyes popped open and shot to Steve as he jolted in surprise.

He said something, some kind of mixture of Steve's name and a curse and a moan, and the beautifully ragged noise made Steve really take the plunge, taking him slowly into his mouth and overloading both of their senses, just in entirely different ways. The very moment James was engulfed, sliding within an experienced but willing and eager mouth, Steve felt a tense hand slide in his hair and heard a strangled curse of, "Motherfucker fucking... fuck."

That made Steve laugh, even with his mouth as full as it was, and it earned him a gentle but sharp tug of his hair. His little chuckle then became a moan and he refocused himself, drawing back and opening his eyes to meet the other man's as he let his tongue slide out and taste him.

"That shy, blushing shit's just an act, isn't it?" James guessed, chest heaving as Steve teased him, not really meaning to but trying to take his time and get a feel for what James liked. Steve shook his head, telltale blush rising on his cheeks just before he sucked him back into his mouth, deeper this time as James groaned, "Could have fucking fooled me."

Steve then lost track of time, losing himself to the act and focusing all of himself upon on and on making it good for James, and by all indications, he seemed to be doing a good job. James was a responsive lover, generous with his noises of approval and gentle with what little guidance he gave Steve. He slowed him down a few times, tugging his hair to do so and keeping his eyes on him through most of it, and Steve liked the way that his gaze felt. It was only when he relaxed enough to take in almost all of him that James made him stop entirely, tugging far more harshly and pulling him off.

Steve looked up at him, eyes a little watery and cheeks flushed and lips swollen and shining, and he wasn't sure exactly what the hell happened next but whatever it was, it was fast and dizzying and within seconds he was fully naked and on his back underneath another man for the first time in his life. At least within that kind of context.

"You trying to fucking kill me, Steve?" James asked, not bothering to keep his weight off of him since he knew he could take it. Steve happened to like the feeling, hands drawn to his wonderfully broad back as James added before he could answer, "'Cause you are."

Steve tried to mutter an apology but James kissed him and cut him off, nudging Steve's legs further apart with his knee and then rocking down against him, making Steve moan helplessly into his mouth and hold on to him harder. As James built a rhythm Steve pushed back against every thrust of his hips, chasing the friction hungrily and wanting, needing more, itching to flip them and get back on top and take control but also enjoying being underneath him and having to follow his lead. He simply wanted damn near anything and would happily accept exactly that, so long as James was enjoying himself too. And God he was.

Steve didn't have any doubts as to the mutual attraction between them anymore, and not just because of the returned payment. It was as real as real could get, and he could see it on James' face and hear it in his low, rough groans and feel it in his increasingly sloppy, hot kisses. They were moving together and chasing every spark of pleasure and Steve knew he wasn't gonna last much longer but he wanted to, he desperately didn't want the night to end, but he couldn't bring himself to hit the brakes either.

James felt differently, however, breaking their kiss and breathlessly telling him, "I could come like this so fucking fast. You feel fucking amazing." Steve didn't say anything, couldn't say anything back, and he didn't have to because James wasn't done yet. "I don't want to, though. Not ready to stop."

"Me either," Steve managed to choke out, groaning with frustration when James slowed down, almost stopping altogether.

"Yeah? What do you wanna do next?"

Steve stared up at him, blanking at the answer. He could think of many, many things, and the idea of choosing just one seemed impossible. "I..."

James slid his left hand into Steve's now-messy blond hair, giving a lazy but delicious thrust of his hips before asking him with dark, hooded eyes, "You wanna fuck me?"

The words sent a shockwave through Steve, nearly making him lose it right then and there and bring the moment to an amazingly embarrassing end. James had mentioned the same thing earlier but here, naked in bed together and a hair's breadth from snapping, the idea was much more real and compelling and mouthwatering.

"Shouldn't... shouldn't I be polite and... offer... instead?" Steve mindlessly stuttered, unsure of what he was even saying and why the hell he was saying it at all, but James seemed to think he was adorable.

"Yeah, you would, wouldn't you? Gentleman and all that," James said with a hint of affection, tracing a finger along Steve's cheekbone. "But lucky for you, I've got my heart real set on you fucking me till I can't walk straight, so... I'm all yours."

That was all Steve needed to drop all pretenses of anxiety and give himself over entirely to instinct. His grip on the other man tightened and he flipped them over effortlessly, James letting out an approving little giggle as his head hit the pillows. Steve, both hands holding himself up, asked him in all seriousness, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking sure," he replied. "Unless you're getting cold feet on me."

Steve could have laughed at the very idea. "No," he all but growled before scrambling off of him enough to reach his bedside drawer, nearly toppling off the bed in his enthusiasm, and James had the gall to laugh at him. The jerk.

When Steve returned, dropping the necessary items into the sheet next to them, James had shifted up higher into the bed a little bit and was sprawled out comfortably, right arm behind his head and the left...

Steve froze, half on top of James again and half at his side, entirely speechless and entire body flushing at the sight of him lying there and casually touching himself, as if to pass the time while he waited patiently to get fucked. He was completely at ease and unfairly gorgeous like that, fully aware of his own sex appeal and how to use it to achieve what he wanted, and Steve was enthralled, jealous, and utterly overcome with lust all at once.

"Told you I'd let you watch," James shrugged one shoulder, working his hand slowly over himself. "Gotta keep my word."

Steve briefly met his gaze before letting his eyes fall back down again, transfixed by what was taking place before him. It wasn't just the act itself but the way in which it was unfolding, the fact that it was just for him and him alone, a gift from this fascinating man in his bed.

He loved it. But he couldn't let it go on another minute.

"That's enough," Steve said quietly but firmly, and he didn't have to reach out and stop him. He ceased almost the second the words were out, hand falling to his side and eyes locking with Steve's. "Now I've never done this before, and I want it to be good for you. All of it. So... help me?"

James grinned and relaxed against the bed, nodding and letting his legs sprawl further open as if in invitation. "Yeah, man. I've got you. It's not so different from what you've done with women."

"I know," Steve replied, moving between his legs and settling on top of him once more, faint blush touching his cheeks again. "Just... wanna be good."

"You're gonna be real good," James assured him, pulling him down for a kiss. "Can't wait."

Neither could Steve, so he kissed him again and reached blindly beside him to grab the bottle of lube, ignoring his sudden rush of nerves. James had nothing less than full confidence in him for some reason and it worked wonders for his own sense of ability, which was important for any new task.

But again, when Steve was unsure or anxious about a new situation... it only made him dive in all that much deeper. And as it turned out, James was right - it wasn't terribly different from what he had already experienced before. And he was the best teacher Steve could have asked for.

He started slow and James didn't rush him, letting him take his time and not teasing him at all for being overly cautious and careful not to hurt him, as if he really could with one lone finger. They kissed and breathed together through the readying process and Steve's nerves began to fall away once a moment or two had passed, feeling shivery and humming with the pleasant surprise that he still felt over doing this at all.

"Mm," James groaned when Steve was still only one finger deep, starting to rock down against his hand once he had adjusted to the intrusion. "More, you can give me more," he told Steve breathlessly, hand on the back of his neck as Steve rained kisses down his neck. "And deeper."

Steve lost his breath at the instructions and complied, adding a second finger and feeling the way James tensed beneath him but quickly relaxed and eased into it. He followed his instructions and went deeper, pleased when James groaned and rocked harder on his hand. "Good?"

"Mhm," James confirmed, eyes closed and lips parted, drops of sweat dotting his brow. "Very good."

"Good," Steve murmured, capturing his lips in a kiss that grew filthy almost instantly.

"Just a little more," James murmured against his lips. "You'll find it."

Steve didn't need to ask for clarification. He knew what he was looking for. He adjusted his angle and rotated his wrist, knowing it would be unmistakable when he got there. And he wasn't wrong.

The first time he brushed against the right spot, James all but shouted and nearly shot off the bed like a rocket. "Fucking fuck," he cursed, writhing and needy. "There. Do it again." Steve obeyed, adding a third finger when he knew he was ready and, after a few tries, finding the spot with ease. It reduced James to a puddle underneath him, whiny and sweaty and clutching him for dear life as he fucked down on his hand took everything he could until it wasn't enough anymore.

"I'm ready," he said breathlessly and needy, his own cheeks flushed and chest heaving. "I'm fucking ready."

"You sure?"

"Yes I'm fucking sure," James all but spat. "Fuck me, Steve."

Steve wouldn't dare keep him waiting. He pulled his hand away and shifted to get on his knees and get into position above him, still at least having the presence of mind to throw on a condom before he lost all ability to think. In the midst of that James asked, "Want me on my hands and knees?"

Steve's answer was immediate. "No," he replied instantly, settling between his legs and holding himself up with one hand planted next to the other man's head. "No. Wanna see your face."

James smiled at that, throwing a leg over Steve's hip as he reached down to line them up. "You like my face, Steve?"

Steve shot him a look. "I'm sure lots of people like your face."

"Yeah. But they're not usually so sweet about it," he replied with a lingering grin.

"Well they should be," Steve said. "Now be quiet."

James' eyes rolled shut and he half-whispered, half-groaned a breathless yes sir as Steve slowly pushed forward and sunk inside of him.

Steve had always prided himself on his self control. He had the most of anyone he knew and kept himself in check in nearly all areas of life to the point where it was almost unhealthy, but sometimes even he came close to snapping and giving into baser, unwise inner urges. This was one of those times, but he hung on and just barely avoided losing his entire mind as he forced himself to not move while James adjusted to him.

Steve kissed and nibbled on his jaw to distract himself while he waited, waiting until James started squirming to kiss his lips and ask, "Ready?"

James nodded and Steve exhaled with relief, starting to move slowly with measured, small strokes, because anything more would have been his end. He kept his eyes closed and breathed against James' lips, brow furrowed and body tense as he worked them both up. James rocked with him and let his hands wander everywhere within in his reach, usually keeping one hand in Steve's hair or on the back of his neck, holding him close.

Once Steve felt a little more in control and a little less precarious, he let the pace quicken a bit and was rewarded with a low, hungry moan against his lips. "Good?" Steve asked, opening his eyes and looking down at James, vulnerable and beautiful and, for the night at least, all his.

He nodded, eyes closed and biting his lip briefly and tightening his grip on Steve's hair. "So good. Just need more."

"I'll give you more," Steve assured him, laying a short kiss at the corner of his mouth and finding it nearly impossible to stop gazing at him. He couldn't keep his thoughts to himself any longer, tracing his jawline and telling him quietly and lowly, in a voice that he thought barely sounded like his own, "You're gorgeous, James."

His eyes flew open and he smiled up at Steve at those words, though he also looked a bit confused for a moment. Then he blinked twice and shook his head, replying, "Bucky. Call me Bucky."

Steve hesitated, rhythm slowing as he furrowed his brows and repeated, "Bucky?"

"That's my name," he explained breathlessly. "I mean, James is too, it's my first name. But nobody calls me that. Just use it for business. But you're not business."

Oh. Steve understood now. That made sense. He couldn't help but grin a little bit - damn right he wasn't just business - leaning down to kiss him and murmuring, "All right, Bucky." The name, slightly quirky and uncommon as it was, suited him somehow and felt much more natural, surprisingly, rolling off Steve's tongue.

James - no, Bucky - grinned into the kiss and held him closer, tighter, and Steve began to lose his motivation to hold himself back. Bucky had both legs wrapped around him now, using him to rock him down harder, encouraging Steve to just take him, but Steve knew once he started... God it was gonna be over fast. But he wasn't finished yet. He wanted to make Bucky shout again, so he started shifting their position and angle a bit here and there, moving one leg up higher, holding Bucky up more with a hand on the small of his back, determined to find the right position to annihilate him.

And once he did, Bucky let him know by shuddering around him and shouting again just like Steve wanted, curling around him tighter and chasing it with every nerve and muscle in his body. It snapped what was left of Steve's resolve and he finally gave in, throwing caution to the wind and fucking him like he'd wanted to for hours, fast and hard and exactly the way Bucky needed - the way they both needed.

"Steve," Bucky gasped helplessly, body flushed and overheating and red even without the aid of Steve's beard dragging all over it, "fuck I'm gonna -"

"Not yet," Steve admonished, voice trembling slightly. "Don't you dare."

Bucky whined with his eyes closed, panting and writhing and biting down on Steve's shoulder in an effort to contain himself. Steve moaned at the sting of pain, relishing it before yanking Bucky's head back down to the pillow by his hair and all but commanding, "Look at me, Bucky."

He opened his eyes immediately, nearly black with lust and need as they met Steve's, wordless pleas begging from within their depths. "You wanna come?" Steve asked, watching Bucky's eyes nearly roll in the back of his head immediately.

"God, please, Steve," he begged shamelessly, no qualms and zero hesitation. "I need it so bad."

"Yeah?" Steve teased, lips moving of their own accord now, words flying out with zero filter or thought of his own, everything now only need and instinct and filth. "You like this? You like me fucking you?"

"I fucking love it," Bucky replied, short nails digging into Steve's back while his other hand fisted his hair in desperation. "You're so good, Steve. Fucking natural."

Steve grinned, flushing with pride and something else, too. He gazed down at Bucky and couldn't help but tell him, "You're so fucking beautiful."

Bucky gave him that dreamy, almost silly smile in response, flushing even harder beneath him, and Steve couldn't delay him any longer. He cradled Bucky's face and gave him a long, filthy kiss before murmuring against his lips, "Go on, Bucky. Come for me."

It was an amazing thing, how quickly Bucky obeyed and proved how hard he had worked to hold out, following Steve's orders. He arched beneath him and let out a cry that Steve would remember forever, spilling untouched between them and setting Steve off himself in a white hot flash behind his eyes. He felt it through his entire body from head to toe, inside and out, in a way that he couldn't remember feeling before. It was unlike anything else, beautiful and perfect and long enough to make him lose all sense of time and logic as he collapsed in a heap on top of his lover.

Neither of them had any will to move or think or otherwise return to reality for quite awhile after, too lost in the pleasant haze and wanting to savor it as long as they could. Steve's head was on Bucky's tattooed shoulder, Bucky's arms thrown loosely around him and legs limp against the bed, the sound of breathing the only noise to be heard in the entire apartment.

Steve wished he could stay there like that and drift off, fall asleep and not move until the sun came up, but he'd never been able to do that with a lover. He cared too much to let someone else fall asleep in a mess - and this was a whole other level of mess than he'd ever experienced - and also wake up with sore limbs or a strained neck from passing out in a haphazard position. And so, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, eventually he slipped out of Bucky's body and extricated himself from his arms, looking down and grinning at the sated, instantly sleepy man in his bed.

He gave him a small little kiss on the lips and murmured, "I'll be right back." Bucky only groaned slightly in reply, not bothering to open his eyes, and Steve couldn't help but grin even more. Knowing that he'd fucked the man into such a state was a high he'd be riding for a long time, he was sure of it.

He wasn't gone for long. Within just a few moments he was back in bed next to Bucky, cleaning him up gently and wordlessly, at least until he glanced up and caught the way that Bucky was watching him. "What?"

Bucky, grinning lazily, shook his head. "Nothing."

Steve eyed him skeptically, tossing aside the small towel in his hand so he could run his fingers along Bucky's abs. "You're thinking something."

"I'm thinking a lot of things," Bucky teased. "Mostly that you're even hotter when you're not so wound up and... tense. You look good relaxed."

"Well thanks," Steve smiled, still absently tracing lines along his torso. "You too."

Bucky smiled. "So... what do you think? Was it everything you thought it would be? Being with a man?"

Steve shook his head, moving to lay down next to him, head propped on his hand while the other remained on Bucky's body. "Better."

Bucky grinned with pride. "I'd make a joke about another satisfied customer, but..."

"I still can't believe you did that," Steve muttered. "Gonna feel guilty about that for awhile."

Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Don't. Seriously. I won't even miss it."

Steve raised his eyesbrows in disbelief. "You're that well off?"

Bucky gave a lazy shrug. "I'm saving up. So I don't consider myself well off."

"Buying a house?" Steve mused, still unable to get his hands away from him.

"New studio," Bucky replied.

"Studio?" Steve repeated, curious.

"For my shop," Bucky replied, purposefully staying vague for the sake of amusement, which he didn't bother to hide.

"What kind of shop?" Steve pressed, grinning back at him.

Bucky chuckled like he wanted to keep him guessing but gave in only because he found him so adorable. "I'm a tattoo artist, Steve."

... Well now that made sense. "Oh," Steve replied, fingers briefly stilling in the center of his chest. "Wow. You stay busy, huh?"

"Always," Bucky grinned back. "Always got someone to work on."

Steve didn't miss the double meaning there. "And Loki called me a workaholic."

"It's not so bad when you enjoy your job," Bucky shrugged.

"No it's not," Steve agreed. And he did enjoy his work. He was making a difference in the world, even if nobody knew it. Nobody knowing was the point, after all. He helped keep the people safe, even when safety was just ignorance of danger.

"But everybody needs a break every once in awhile," Bucky said, reaching out and brushing his the backs of his fingertips against Steve's beard. "Right?"

Steve didn't reply. He didn't have to. Their eyes met and did all the talking for him, and the next thing he knew he was leaning in and Bucky was pulling him closer and their lips met once again, soft and sweet with an addictive undercurrent of heat. It was effortless, beautifully so, and Steve sank right into it without hesitation.

They kissed the moments away, unhurried and sweet, hands moving and running over now-familiar skin, no frantic need there to rush them. Steve loved it and didn't want it to end, didn't wanna fall asleep and miss his chance to have more of this man while he still had him in his bed. Thankfully, the feeling was mutual.

"So," Bucky said, casually sliding on top of Steve, messy strands of hair tickling at his eyes, "you got anywhere to be tomorrow?"

Steve thought for a moment before replying, "You know, I haven't taken a single sick day since I took the job."

"Really?"

Steve nodded. "Maybe it's time to change that."

"That's a good plan," Bucky agreed, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. "'Cause you're gonna need some downtime to recover once I'm done with you."

Steve grinned at him, relaxing beneath Bucky and letting his arms rest on the pillows next to his head, all but offering himself up to him to do whatever he pleased for the remainder of the night and quite possibly a sizable chunk of the next morning. And afternoon. Maybe even the evening, too.

"I'm counting on it."

Across the Atlantic ocean some hours later, a slightly hungover but somehow still flawless-looking Loki awoke in his bed amid a pile of attractive but misplaced limbs. He made a face and removed an arm from his middle and a calf from on top of his legs, the offending appendages belonging to the man and woman he'd entertained the night before. Lovely companions they'd been, but their bedsharing manners left much to be desired. But no matter - they'd be gone soon and he had a day to begin.

Which reminded him of his first order of business. Grinning to himself and reaching over to his nightstand, he grabbed his phone off of its charger and powered it on. He'd turned it off the previous evening but he had important matters to attend to now, specifically that of a certain pair of friends of his and their little night together.

As he waited for the phone to come on, he wondered if his plan had been as successful as he had anticipated or if perhaps things had gone awry. While his plans were always well thought out and well executed, he could not always count on others to be as reliable as he and as a result, some plans were more fruitful than others. Being a genius was quite a burden when so many others failed to recognize it.

And that was what made Steve Rogers so interesting. Initially Loki had mistaken him for being as bland as untoasted store bought white bread but, upon becoming better acquainted with him, he found that this was most certainly not the case. He was not bland but instead rather repressed and self-controlled within an inch of his life, to the point where Loki had to wonder if the man had ever had legitimate fun or a decent orgasm ever in his life. But lucky for Steve, Loki was his friend now and would happily see to making both happen.

He would have done it himself quite enthusiastically and at the drop of a hat, but the man was too damn stubborn and just wouldn't agree to it. It would be weird, Steve said. I wouldn't want to jeopardize our partnership at work, he said.

Well, fine. Loki would just do the job by proxy then. Enter his lovely escort friend James Barnes and Steve's 34th birthday, and another one of Loki's master plans was born.

Phone now officially back to life, there was only a few seconds that passed before he received a notification for no less than thirty six unread text messages. Brows inching up towards his hairline, Loki quickly swiped the screen to find each and every single one from Bucky,

The texts read like a story, and a damn good one at that. He started from the beginning and worked his way down, a mischievous grin on his face the entire time.

This better not be a waste of my time. If he slams the door in my face I stg I'm charging you double.

And I'm charging you triple if that pic you showed me ends up being from Google and this guy looks completely different

Then, all of ten minutes later:

Omg wtf I wasn't prepared

He looks nothing like his pic

The pic looked like a Sunday school teacher at a fucking bake sale but this guy is fucking huge and has the best fucking beard I've ever seen in my life fucking fuck me I hate you Loki

Loki paused. A beard? On Steve? Steve Rogers?

The next message included a photo, taken clearly covertly at a poor angle of Steve sitting next to Bucky in a cab and sure enough. He had a beard and he looked utterly magnificent.

Jesus Christ. Loki should have tried harder to get in his pants.

He's got a stick up his ass though, the next message read. You weren't kidding about that.

Anyway I'll leave you alone now fucker

Then, about 15 minutes later:

LOKI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP

YOU'RE DEAD TO ME

YOU SET ME UP WITH A MOTHERFUCKING FED

If I go to jail I swear I'm gonna sing like a motherfucking bird and take you down with me. I know you're in the mob or some shit like that you fucking little bitch

Loki laughed and rolled his eyes. He wasn't in he mob. He had mob connections. Big difference. He had connections to politicians and royalty as well - that didn't make him a world leader, did it?

I cant fucking believe you. You've done a lot of stupid shit but this just takes the cake. Ass.

I'm giving this guy five minutes and then I'm gonna go to the bathroom and find a window or air vent or something to escape from

He's hot but he's not worth going to prison for ten years hot

Nobody's that hot

Maybe he'll have mercy on me since I bought him cheesecake

Then, about 30 minutes later:

He seems cool. I don't think he's gonna arrest me. Seems lonely. I like him. Don't know if anythings gonna happen though, he's so nervous. We're headed back to his place now.

Stop laughing cause I know you're fucking laughing moron

Loki was indeed laughing. Ah, he knew Loki so well.

Either way I hope you know you fucking owe me you fucker. I don't care what ends up happening, it's not cool that you didn't tell me what he is. You made him sound like a damn mall cop but he's actually like some big fucking deal in the motherfucking FBI?

You're such an asshole I hate you

And you're not even answering me prob cause you're having some gross fucking orgy over there in London

Fucker

Complete and utter assface

This is worse than that time you tricked me into being your date for that weird BDSM ball thing

I'll call you in the morning to yell at you some more

You dick

But then, dated several hours later, there was a few more messages. The contents of those made Loki grin with delight.

... So I take it all back, except the stuff about what a fucking dickhead you are. You're still a dickhead.

He's... he's cool though, Steve. I like him. You were right about us being a good fit.

But I still hate you and I'm still yelling at you in the morning

Loki laughed and quickly typed out a reply, figuring Bucky would see it whenever he woke up. It was still before dawn in New York.

You're welcome, darling. I knew you'd like him. Happy to hear all went well. Look forward to hearing the details

And oh stop with the hate. You love me and you know it.

And that ball was enormously fun. Our night back at my place even more so.

Loki then moved to set the phone back on the nightstand but to his surprise, the screen lit up with a text back from Bucky already.

Fuck off cocksucker

Loki furrowed his brows, still grinning and replied, Still awake at this hour? My my you two crazy kids must be rather sore by now.

And btw is that supposed to be an insult? How embarrassing for you considering yours is a cock I've sucked. Repeatedly.

Bucky didn't reply save for a single eye rolling emoji. Incredibly pleased with himself and equally pleased as to how things had turned out, Loki tossed his phone back down and smoothly slipped out of bed, getting to his feet and strolling happily naked towards the warm and inviting shower waiting for him in his bathroom. He already knew it - it was going to be a lovely, wonderful day.

He was a motherfucking genius. There had never been any doubt but now, even more so - wow. What a motherfucking genius.