alteregos | if i ever leave this world alive ( closed to bucky )

if i ever leave this world alive ( closed to bucky )

[It's obscenely late, but it's easy to still find people roaming the streets. The majority of them stupid drunk, or just one of the two, stumbling back home or finding their way to one more bar so they can end the night in a pathetic haze of alcohol and neon lights. Petre remains perfectly sober when he brings his cigarette down from his lips, leaning back against the brick building where he's met his so-called friend many times before now. He knows the way here by heart, no matter where he's coming from. It's a visit he enjoys paying, and he's quite certain that this night will be no different.

Assuming Bucky can actually make it here alive.]

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[Just a subtle little gasp at the nip, breath hitching before lips stretch back to that same smile. He remains apparently motionless, lolling his head just enough to allow Bucky to continue his work, make his way to his mouth.

Wouldn't put anything past you. And he's quite right to feel that way, though he gets no chance to continue before Petre closes the distance between them. It's a kiss that's anything but chaste, moving that free hand up to grip the back of his neck, anchor him in place until his lips part and he sucks on his, dipping his tongue out to prod at his.]

Good thing you're smart.

[He turns away, takes a generous swig at his drink.]

Be a darling and put this on the table for me, will you.

[The kiss is only a little surprising, and it's only a moment before Bucky's pushing back into it fervently, opening his mouth and letting Petre in willingly. He moans softly and swallows when Petre pulls back, licking his lips.

Bucky takes the glass from Petre with a grin.]

Sir, yes, sir.

[He shifts and leans to set the glass on the table. It's the gentlest kind of order, but Bucky likes it, likes the casual bossiness as well as the more serious, intense commands. Submissiveness is not something he generally displays, and most people would never guess it of him, but it's something he likes to indulge in when he gets a chance.

Even if he's a sassy little prick about it.]

Anything else I can do for you, sir?

[There's an absentminded quality to the way he watches Bucky move, still undeniably present in the moment, slight surge of electricity running down his body, making his nerves feel just a little more alive. With both hands free to roam Bucky's body, palms and finger pads run up beneath his shirt, warmth against his skin, mapping out every inch of his muscles.]

You can start by taking this shirt off.

[A slow, lazy grin spreads across his face as Petre's hands slide up his skin, and Bucky bites his lip and reaches back to pull his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside with no care as to where it lands. It's his apartment, he'll figure it out later.

Once that's done he leans in again, hoping for another kiss.]

[He's happy to deliver. Appreciatively run his hand up from his waist to his shoulders, circling around to find his throat and hold him there without pressing his fingers too tight. Wouldn't want to hurt the soldier. Not yet, anyhow.]

And what can I do for you.

[He wouldn't mind the pain. It reminds him he's alive.

Bucky presses his lips to the demon's neck, scraping his teeth along the skin, ending in a quick bite.]

Fuck me. I don't care how.

[Upon Bucky's last word, Petre rolls his hips lazily into his, the prelude to what might just come next if they both behave, lips stretching in a grin with his eyes shut. Fingers dig into his hair indulgently, then he maneuvers Bucky to slide around him - his turn to sit down on the couch - and stands up to shrug off his jacket, unbutton his shirt and let both clutter the floor. He gets on his knees shortly after, parts Bucky's legs and moves his fingers to start undoing his pants.]

Tell me again how generous you want me to be.

[Bucky's breath hitches and lets himself be pulled around to sit on the couch, watching silently as Petre stands and strips, and feels how his heart pounds as pale fingers work at his pants.

His pulse racing in his ears, Bucky says what he knows is probably the stupidest answer he could possibly respond with, but he doesn't care.]

I never asked you to be generous, you offered that on your own.

I only said what you were thinking. Am I wrong?

[Yanking them down, he presses kisses to the skin on Bucky's navel, sucking lightly to dot more kisses down to his inner thigh. The fabric of his underwear remains, and it's with his mouth over it that he feels the curve of his bulge with his mouth.

Just for a moment. Then his eyes are right back up on his.]

Well?

[He swallows and hisses softly, his head lolling back slightly until Petre pulls back.

God, he's an idiot, he should just take what's offered, especially since it's rare for Petre to be generous, but as Bucky stares down at him, his cheeks starting to flush and his eyes wide, there is no part of him that wants it.]

I don't want your generosity.

[He sits up and grabs Petre by the back of the neck, pulling him close, his fingers gripping tightly.]

I want you to fucking take me apart.

[He braces himself when Bucky's hand slams down against the back of his neck, looking anything but scared. He should know that by now - there's hardly anything a man can do that'd strike terror in him. Anger is something he looks for, something he craves. It wouldn't be the first or last time he walked out of these encounters looking battered, if that's the road the soldier should take.

But what he wants is something else. To be taken apart. Driven mad, he supposes, so he can forget about the things he can't have. Petre called him Buck before. His reaction was rather telling.

A finger tugs at the elastic of his waistband, revealing hair, and more skin. Pressing the pad of his tongue on the base of his cock, he pauses to tease just one more answer out of him.]

Do you wish it was him.

[There's no question as to who the demon is referring to. Asking for clarification would be ridiculous. Bucky swallows and looks away.

Does he?

Often, yes. Very much so. He wishes a lot of things, yearns terribly, but he never... well. Very rarely ever sleeps with someone as a replacement for him.

Besides, he's fairly certain he wouldn't be as rough and cruel as Bucky wants Petre to be right now.

So he answers honestly.]

Right now? No.

That's a shame.

[He lifts himself and Bucky's hips just enough to start pulling the remainder of his clothes down. Reveal everything he wants, everything he's going to do.]

I was going to tell you to close your eyes and pretend.

[He snorts softly, lets his hips be lifted and his clothes peeled off. Bucky leans back, propped up on his elbows as he raises an eyebrow.]

Not sure that'd be enough.

It is once you don't know where up and down are anymore.

[Because Petre really does believe he's that good.]

[He hums a little, raising his eyebrows.]

Maybe I like keeping my eyes open.

No wonder I like you so much.

[as much as he liked letting anyone indulge in a lie... isn't it so much better when they see Petre exactly for what he is. And know what they're getting themselves into and do it anyway.]

You'll keep talking to me, won't you.

[he does enjoy the sound of his voice.]

[He laughs.]

Don't I always?

[He lifts his leg and draws it along Petre's side.]

You gonna get this started or what?

Why not.

[He tilts his head, massages Bucky's bulge beneath the fabric again before finally pulling the remainder of his underwear down and out of the way.

Petre licks his lips with his eyes up, then dips his head down, hand wrapped around his cock, to lick him long and thorough, right from the base to the very tip of the head. Once he gets Bucky to writhe under his mouth, he'll start to angle his head accordingly, take him in fully to cause some friction with his lips.

Better keep that promise to keep talking, Buck.]

[All of Bucky's breath exhales at once in a rushing, groaning gasp, his head falling back even as he tries to keep his eyes on Petre. His leg stretches and bends, sliding along Petre's side.]

God... I could... I could never imagine you were anyone else, you're too... you... burn too bright...

[It's not really dirty, but it's all he can think of.]

[He never did say he wanted it to be dirty. Words by themselves are usually enough to get him going, to inflate his ego and in turn hand over the sense of control both in the physical and psychological sense. To what Bucky says he responds with a moan, low and indulgent, dipping his head back down with soft, wet sounds. He occasionally comes back up to lick his lips, gather his breath and look right back at the other man while his hand continues his work.]

Yeah?

[Bucky bites his lip, chewing on it as he moans and collapses back onto the couch, unable, or maybe just unwilling to keep holding himself up.]

Yeah. It's like when you stare at the sun too long and then close your eyes and the light's still there. You fucking blind every inch of my brain.

[Short of murmuring a little chuckle, Petre returns the compliment with his best smile, breathing softly before dipping his head back down into the motion of his hand. Slowly he begins to take more and more of Bucky's cock, lowering further down until he makes it close to the base. He moans all the way through it, shuts his eyes to knit his brows before looking right back up at Bucky, not just to gage his reactions but to see whether they can get eye contact.]

[The feeling of Petre taking him in little by little, the vibrations of his sound around his dick make Bucky groan, and he has to really concentrate to keep himself from arching up into Petre's mouth.]

Oh fuck...

[His gaze is wandering, but out of the corner of his eye he sees Petre looking at him, so he pulls his gaze back to make eye contact with him. His breath hitches, gasping a little.]

Fucking hell, Petre...

[He knows. He knows fully well how much Bucky loves it, because he's done it time and time again to men with varying tastes and different names, all of which eventually gave in. Some of them after some protests, some of them even completely against their will. Isn't it so much better when it's like this? When he's getting words that ring pleasantly, words that borderline on devotion.

Palms running up his thighs, padding his hipbones with his thumbs, Petre finally decides it's enough and stops, mouth softly slack. He straightens up, leans over and gives Bucky a taste of himself for another hungry kiss. He's still hard, probably painfully close to coming.]

You want me to fuck you?

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