Sloth [slôTH]

(n.) reluctance to work or make an effort; laziness.
Synonym: Acedia

Kink: BDSM - Lazy Submissive

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POV Bucky in 2025 at his and Steve's new NYC apartment

The sun went down a while ago, I can't even remember when, and I don't really care to check the clock anyway. The TV flickers in front of me from the show I had been watching to some stupid commercial I've seen a hundred times this week.

I reach over to the side table to my right and crack open another beer that's been waiting there for me since I got up for lunch who knows how long ago. Now that it's winter, it's hard to know what time it is because of how early the sun sets, but it can't be that late considering that Steve has yet to come home.

Leaning back in the reclining chair, I take a big gulp of the amber fluid, savoring it for the taste since I know I won't get a buzz from the alcohol content given my abilities. It warms my insides, and I watch the TV yet again as my show starts up from the commercial break.

The front door lock turns and opens. I flick my eyes over to see that it's Steve in his uniform. Now that Thanos isn't a threat anymore, he's been working with some of the others to restore Earth to its pre-intergalactic-war glory. That means settling disputes, finding homes for displaced persons, keeping new threats at bay... a lot of hard work that I gladly opted out of. I needed the break after being tortured and used for the last 90 years of my painful existence.

These last two years have been all about taking time for me to simply relax.

"Hey Buck," he greets me, a smile on his face as he flicks on the lights. I squint and shield my eyes from the brightness.

"Hey," I reply, the first time I've heard myself speak today since he left at 7:00 am - well before I actually got out of bed.

I watch him start taking off his uniform. It isn't nearly as dirty as it has been on several other occasions, but I imagine wearing it every day gets tiring.

Suddenly his eyes fall on me, he's shirtless now and only wearing the pants he came in wearing. His body is sculpted like a statue and covered in sweat, a beautiful masterpiece wherever you look. He approaches me and I keep my eyes on his every movement, drinking the rest of my beer in one shot. He looks down at me from where he stands and scans my whole body.

"What?" I ask lightly, curious about what's on his mind.

He shakes his head making a face I can't read. "You haven't been working out with me lately," he mentions with a saddened tone, not at all what I expected him to say.

"I haven't gone since before the Blip, Steve," I tell him, not even noticing the fact of the matter until after he stated it.

"I know," he answers, hesitating a little. He waits a moment before speaking again. "You've... let yourself go, Buck."

I don't say anything to that, I just look at him as he looks down at the rest of me and away from my face. His eyes linger where my visible abs used to be, as I'm not wearing a shirt, at the stockier build I now possess and the ever-so-slight overhang at the waist of my grey sweatpants.

I look back at the TV and decide to ignore the path his eyes are taking now, resisting the urge in the moment to compare my sub-par body to his perfect one. "I could be back to the shape I was in a few years ago in quite literally a month, if not less. I won't, but I can."

"Right," he chuckles. "I don't mind, you know."

"Sounds like you do," I retort bleakly, looking back at him. He looks at me for a few seconds before walking over to the kitchen and out of sight momentarily; I go back to watching the TV.

I hear him come back in, but don't bother to look over. Without any notice, he approaches me and kisses me hard. His face is smooth and he tastes like vanilla lip balm, his tongue delving into my mouth which probably tastes like beer.

"Mmmm," he grumbles into my mouth, his hands holding my face and jaw and running through my hair.

It dawns on me that I've been horny all day, that I've simply been waiting for him to come home and do this very thing. Now that he's on me, I'm growing hard and I'm certain he knows how much of an effect he's having on me.

His hands trail down to my abdomen and his lips drag down my neck, sucking and kissing and biting until I'm panting and internally begging for more. He suddenly drops to his knees, dragging his fingers along the waistband of my sweatpants. My eyes flicker to his to see him focusing on the bulge pushing up against the fabric.

He pulls them down, exposing everything about me, and making me look down at myself as my dick springs up. He sloppily kisses my lower abdomen, and while the region isn't rippled with muscle anymore, it still feels fucking fantastic. His lips trail lower until he's slowly licking at the base of my dick.

"Steve," I warn, my voice quieter than I thought. A moan slips out as he runs his hands up my torso to my chest.

His mouth wraps around me and practically swallows me whole, the pressure he's creating in his mouth making my whole body jerk up to meet him harder.

"Fuck," I mumble, my hands making their way behind my head as I lean back a little further and enjoy the sensation. I let him do what he's doing, the good feeling only building each second.

He hums against my dick, sending a wave of pleasure through me, making me shudder. His hands are grabbing at anything they can, my chest, my abdomen, my arms... when he reaches my inner thighs I groan again, losing myself in the feeling.

My mind wanders. I felt the urge to grab him and fuck him, I want to make him scream my name and cling to me, but I also can't make myself move. His every movement is perfect and calculated, and I don't want it to stop.

When he reaches up and starts playing with my nipple, I almost cry out. It surprises me enough to make me start undulating my hips to meet the motions he's making with his mouth.

I look down at him to find his eyes already trained on mine. "Fuck," I mouth, my eyes rolling back as my head lolls against the chair beneath me.

Finally, my fingers entwine with his hair and I push him farther down onto me, his lips meeting the skin at my pelvis. "You feel so fucking good, Christ, Steve," I suck air in between my teeth. His movements grow faster, and I feel myself sweating in anticipation of his next movement.

I push my long hair out of my face and look down at him again. He must have pulled his pants out of the way a little while ago because he's touching himself in long and slow strokes. How the hell he's able to suck me off and fuck himself simultaneously is beyond me.

He moans against my skin more now than before, humming and picking up speed with his right hand. His left hand though, starts grabbing between my legs. When he finally starts massaging my balls, I jolt and lean into the feeling.

"Steve, fuck, don't stop," I whisper, not even wanting to hear myself say something like that, "don't stop," I repeat, quieter. Usually, that sort of thing is reserved for him, so hearing it from me only makes him start moving harder and faster.

I explode into his throat with a shout and feel him swallow on instinct. A string of curses fall from my lips, my hands holding onto his hair and pushing myself deeper into him with urgency.

My gaze falls upon him as I watch him pull back and come undone too, white ribbons spewing onto the sweatpants pooled at my calves. His face is pure beauty through orgasmic pain, and I can't help but stare.

When his gaze finally grows clearer, less hazy, and high from his orgasm, he looks me in the eyes.

"I told you," he starts, his breathing labored. "I told you I didn't mind. I meant it."

I wait, thinking over what he's implying. "Steve-"

"Buck, I'll always want you, I don't care what you look like," he interrupts. "But shit, this... I think I could get used to this."

"There is no way you prefer this to..." I don't know how to explain my previous body type as compared to my current body type. But then I imagined him in my position and realized I craved him in every form he could possibly have.

"You were hot then, you're hot now," he says, his eyes passing over my still naked body and dick glistening with his saliva. "Fuck, you're gonna make me want to do it again."

"Do your worst, Rogers."

And dear god, he did.