Work Text:
I’m home at last
And I’m soaking through and through
And then you handed me a towel
And all I see is you
-“Thank You” by Dido
You weren’t sure if there was a such thing as the Thursday Blues, but if there were, you certainly had a mean case of them tonight.
Squish, squish, squish, squish. You winced as rainwater oozed out of your tennis shoes on every step down the hallway, shivering and sighing to yourself as you finally managed to shuffle to the apartment door. You unclamped one arm enough to release your right hand from under your armpit and knocked. Several seconds later, it opened.
“Oh no,” James “Bucky” Barnes groaned as he beheld you sopping wet where you stood on his doorstep. “What happened?”
“A monsoon, apparently,” you told him through your chattering teeth.
“Shit,” he said, sympathy stamped all over his face. “I thought you said you were gonna take an Uber, girlie.”
He hustled you inside his apartment and shut the door. It took him a second to lock it because there were a ton of locks—which made sense, given his background—and then he headed for the coat closet as you explained yourself. “I was, but it turns out there’s a concert tonight and so there’s a huge surcharge, so I decided to just hoof it. Halfway through my walk, it came down like God was smiting the Earth with a frickin’ flood. Guess I should’ve expected it. Damn Thursday Blues. Achoo!”
Bucky returned from the closet with a huge, thick woolen blanket and draped it around your shoulders, scowling as he started rubbing your arms. “You could’ve called me. I’d have brought the truck over to get you out of the cold.”
You shrugged. “It was too late anyway. I was already soaked and it was only another four blocks here.”
He sighed. “And you call me stubborn.”
“You are stubborn, Buck.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m not the one walking through forty-degree New York weather during a monsoon. I think you’ve got me this time in the stubborn department.”
“I’ll be alright,” you insisted.
“Uh-huh. Another five minutes and your lips would be turning blue.”
You scowled. “Nu-uh. That would’ve taken ten minutes.”
“Oh my God, you’re the worst, I swear.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you along behind him. You couldn’t help feeling puzzled as you passed the living room and kitchen on the way to his bedroom.
“And we’re going where, exactly?”
“You need to get out of those wet clothes or you’re gonna catch a cold,” Bucky scolded. “I’ll put them in the washer and dryer in the meantime, but you need to get warm and dry first.”
He shouldered open the door to his bathroom and then flipped on the bathtub faucet, checking the temperature. “But—achoo!—I didn’t bring any clothes with me,” you protested.
He rolled his eyes. “You can borrow some of mine until yours dry, relax.”
“Bucky,” you whined, but he gave you a stern look.
“Quit being difficult. You’re the one who decided to be stubborn, remember? Consequences.”
You suppressed a groan. You knew that expression on his face well enough by now. You’d been friends for just under four months. You’d met at a bar watching the Superbowl. Some guy had tried to cozy up to you and wasn’t taking no for an answer until Bucky came up and pretended to be an old friend, which scared the insistent creep away. You’d thanked him and had begun to chat during the game, finding out you had more things in common with the former Winter Soldier than you ever thought possible. He was surprisingly easy company, despite his tendency to be sarcastic and moody at times.
You know, when he wasn’t demanding you get naked in his apartment.
“Fine,” you grumbled. “Can I at least take a bath instead of a shower?”
Bucky laughed in surprise. “I didn’t know you were a bath kinda gal.”
You shrugged. “It’s good for de-stressing every once in a while.”
He smirked, those blue eyes twinkling with good humor. “Want me to get you a glass of wine too?”
“Oh, shush.” You thought about it. “Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t say no to some hot apple cider.”
He chuckled as he stooped to pop the plug into the drain. “Got it. I’ll be back.”
Bucky left. You waited for the tub to fill—and to his credit, it was actually a nice garden tub big enough for someone his size—and then undressed. You were very glad to ditch the sopping clothing and step into the tub. It was the perfect temperature—nice and hot, but not scalding. He of course didn’t have bubble bath mix or anything, but the bathroom itself was clean and smelled like Irish Spring soap.
A while later, Bucky knocked on the door. “You decent?”
“Nope!” you said, cheerful now that you weren’t freezing anymore. “Butt ass nekkid, I am.”
You heard him chortle. “Ah, right. Want me to close my eyes or something?”
You shook your head. He was definitely from the forties. It showed sometimes. “I don’t care, Bucky, it’s your apartment, remember?”
A pause. He cracked the door and started to put the mug of cider on the counter, but you made a frustrated noise at him. “Oh, for God’s sake, Bucky, we’re both adults. I am not getting out of my nice bath and dripping everywhere to get the cider off the counter. Bring it here already.”
He heaved a sigh as he pushed the door the rest of the way open. “Always have to be difficult, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you sniffed, pulling your knees up so at least most of your naughty bits wouldn’t be as visible. Besides, washing yourself with his soap had created a layer of bubbles and steam, so most of you was hidden anyway. Bucky brought you the cider and kept his gaze rather pointedly aimed at your face. His cheeks were a little pink and you fought the urge to tease him about it. All that talk and he really was still a gentleman deep down. It was adorable. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I’m traumatizing you.”
“Oh no,” he said in perfect deadpan. “A pretty naked girl in my bathtub. I’m gonna die of a heart attack.”
You laughed into the mug before taking a sip. “Well, you are a hundred and six years old.”
Bucky snorted as he nicked your wet clothes and squeezed the water out in the sink before tossing them over one arm. He did pause significantly at your panties for a second and you blushed profusely. “Bucky!”
“What?” he said. “I didn’t know you wore Cheekies, that’s all. I always pictured you in Granny panties or something.”
Your jaw dropped. “You are so mean today.”
“Only today? I must be doing pretty good.” He left the bathroom and then returned with a fresh towel, a sweatshirt, socks, and a pair of his boxers that had a drawstring. “Enjoy your bath, girlie.”
You lay back against the headrest and sighed wistfully. “I shall.”
He chuckled again before closing the door. You took your time sipping cider and washing up. You climbed out and toweled off before slipping into the borrowed sweatshirt. Naturally, it swallowed you up and hung off your hands and arms given you weren’t the same size as him, but the shorts worked because the waistband was adjustable. The socks didn’t fit, so you left them there and then padded out of the bathroom barefoot instead.
Bucky was in the kitchen grabbing plates for the large pepperoni pizza already sitting on the coffee table in front of the flat screen. He flashed you a sly smile and an appraising look before offering a beer. “Don’t you look cute.”
“Why? Because I’m undressed or because I’m wearing your clothes?”
“Do I have to choose one?”
You rolled your eyes before taking a sip. “Insufferable flirt.”
“What?” he teased as he headed into the living room. “I’ve never seen your legs before. Sue me.”
“I am more than certain you’ve seen bare female legs before,” you told him as you flopped down on one end of the couch. “Mine are nothing special.”
“You’d think so,” he said as he sat beside you. He openly stared at them. “And yet.”
You choked down a laugh as you grabbed a slice of pizza. “Take a picture; it’ll last longer.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He grabbed a slice as well and then turned up the volume on the ball game. You both ate your fill of pizza and had a couple more beers each before settling in to finish watching the game. It was a regular thing between you as of a month or so ago, when sometimes the bar would get crowded and Bucky didn’t want to get recognized by someone, so he offered his place to you. It worked out great, since you liked the quieter setting, especially not having to yell things back and forth to each other.
And, to be honest, it felt nice that Bucky trusted you enough to be inside his personal space. You knew he’d been through a lot, so you’d taken things slowly, not wanting to pressure him at all, but he’d warmed up to you just fine. He loved trading barbs and playful insults back and forth, which was a normal part of friendships you shared with others. It made everything much more fun knowing he could take a joke and give one back just as good.
“That was perfect,” you said with a happy sigh as you flopped back against the couch pillow. “Thanks, Bucky.”
“Your total is $14.50,” he said, sticking his hand out as if expecting you to hand him a $20. You pretended to look innocent.
“But my wallet’s all the way over there in the laundry room.”
Bucky snorted. “Of course it is.”
“Oh, please, you’re a big fat liar anyway. I’ve offered several times to go halfsies on food and you always refuse like you’re my boyfriend or something. I don’t mind going Dutch, you know.”
“True, but you’re still a girl. Wouldn’t feel right if I made you pay for stuff.”
“Oh, Bucky, you’re such a gentleman,” you said in a faux wistful voice, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead dramatically. “I’m liable to swoon soon.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “Making fun of me, girlie?”
“When am I not making fun of you, Buck?”
“Point taken.” He set his empty bottle on the coaster and reclined to get comfy, but then glanced at you again. “You don’t have to sit like that if you don’t want to.”
“Hmm?” You hadn’t even noticed yet; your legs were curled up on your side of the couch, ankles crossed. “But then I’d be on your side.”
“You act like I’m a monk or something. I’m not gonna burst into flames if you touch me.”
You eyed him. “Do you want me to touch you?”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Phrasing.”
“God, you’re so obtuse when you wanna be. I’m trying to be polite. It’s your house, remember? I didn’t automatically assume you’re comfortable being touched.”
Again, he gave you that classic deadpan look. “I am comfortable being touched.”
You rolled your eyes for the millionth time and then stretched out your legs, ankles still crossed, over the rest of the couch, which put your calves in his lap. “There. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” With that, you both went back to watching the game for a while. During a lapse when they recapped the previous innings, he glanced down at your feet. “You’re not cold, right?”
“The socks didn’t fit,” you explained. “You have big feet.”
“Ah.” He must not have believed you, because he still reached down and touched your left foot, then frowned. “You are cold.”
“It’s fine,” you told him, exasperated. “I just have bad circulation; I’m not gonna get sick.”
Bucky peered at you, still disbelieving, and then sighed to himself. He scooted your legs back enough to put your feet in his lap and then, to your absolute shock, began to give you a foot massage. A really, really good one. Your mind imploded on itself. How did Bucky freaking Barnes know how to give top notch foot massages?
“And you learned to do this…where?”
He gave you a look as if you’d insulted him. “I’m a hundred and six. Why wouldn’t I know how to give a good foot massage?”
“I mean, you’re not wrong, it’s just…” You cleared your throat, blushing a bit. “It just has a certain context in modern times.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh.”
He stared at you. “Any chance you wanna tell me what that is there, girlie?”
You played with the hem of the oversized sweatshirt, too bashful to meet his gaze. “It’s a common seduction method between men and women.”
That sly look returned. “Oh, is it?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So you think I’m trying to seduce you right now?”
You scoffed. “Oh, please. If you were the least bit attracted to me, you’d have made a move by now.”
“What constitutes making a move in your world?”
“First base is usually a pretty clear indication,” you mused.
“Well, obviously, but what if a guy likes to be subtle about it?”
You arched an eyebrow. “I am the worst person to ever try that on. I don’t pick up on signals and body language at all. I need bright, blinking neon signs before I even remotely notice someone’s interested in me.”
“Wow. So you’re basically clueless, huh?”
“Hopelessly clueless.”
“Good to know. You know, generally speaking.”
You peered at him. He was back to watching the game, his hands still patiently massaging your feet. “Bucky.”
“Mm?”
“You’re being obtuse again.”
“Is that right?” he asked mildly.
“What are you not telling me?”
“Plenty.”
You groaned again. “Don’t pull the grumpy old man routine. I know you’re not telling me something and if you don’t say it, I’m going to pester you until the end of time.”
“Pretty sure we’ll both be dead before time ends. I mean, can time really end anyway? Wouldn’t that be the end of human existence and time marches on even after the universe is destroyed—” He brought up a forearm to block the throw pillow you smacked him with.
“Bucky, I swear, I’ll bludgeon you to death with your own throw pillow.”
He chuckled incredulously. “I feed you, let you take a bath, clothe you, and this is how you repay me?”
“Ooh, you are so—” You leapt forward with the pillow and whacked him repeatedly, which mostly resulted in him laughing at the aggravated look on your face as you attacked. He toppled over trying to escape and you just proceeded to pummel him until finally he surrendered.
“Okay, okay, I give!”
You lowered the pillow and pretended to glare at him. “Spill it, Barnes.”
He exhaled and fixed you with a calm, but affectionate look. “Did it ever occur to you why I stopped meeting you at the bar?”
“Yeah, you don’t like the noise and you don’t want someone to recognize you and start a fuss.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But that’s not the only reason why.”
“Okay.”
Bucky sighed, closing his eyes. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Say what?”
He pushed up on his hands. Which, coincidentally, put him inches away as you realized with a jolt that in your determination to beat him with the throw pillow, you’d actually straddled him on the couch. Your pulse shot into the thousands. You’d never been this close to him before and it wasn’t like you didn’t know he was utterly cute and handsome at the same time.
“I wanted to get to know you,” he said quietly.
“…oh,” you said, blinking at him in total stupor.
“I didn’t plan this from the start when we met,” he assured you. “It’s just…as we kept hanging out, I realized I like being around you. You’re a conundrum, you know. I know everything about you except what you think about me. Which is why I didn’t just jump right to asking you out. I wanted you to feel comfortable around me before I asked. I’m not the easiest person to get along with and I’ve got a shipping yard’s worth of baggage.”
His smile widened as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “And I think you’re cute and funny and awkward. Let the record show that this is me making a move on you and asking you out.”
He lifted his brows enough to give you a challenging look. “What’s your answer?”
You stared at him, still stunned by this revelation. “Fffffffffuuuuuuuuck.”
Bucky laughed. “Oh, good, that’s what I was hoping for.”
“Sorry,” you said, trying to gather your thoughts. “I told you I was clueless. I had no idea you liked me that way. I just assumed this is how you are with all your friends who are girls.”
You fidgeted some more, willing your voice not to crack. “I, um, I like you too. A lot, actually. I always look forward to hanging out with you. I just…never thought of you in the context of anything romantic because I didn’t want to accidentally get disappointed if you weren’t attracted to me. I thought I would’ve been presumptuous to assume you reciprocated.”
“Well, now you know, girlie,” he said with a playful smile on his lips. “It’s reciprocated.”
“Before or after you saw my bare legs?”
He shook his head at you. “Before, you little pest.”
You blushed harder. “Right. Um, so what happens now?”
“I leave that up to the girl currently sitting in my lap.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Thank God you like me, because now I can finally shut you up.”
You kissed him.
Oh, hell. Mistake. His lips were somehow even softer than they looked. And very full. And very plush. You held the first kiss for several seconds longer than you would have with any other guys. Because it wasn’t any other guy. It was James “Bucky” Barnes—your hilariously infuriating ex-spy friend who was handsome and sly and thoughtful and wow, now it was apparent just how much you really liked him.
You pulled back an inch and opened your eyes, worried about how he’d taken it. “Weird?”
“No,” he murmured, sliding one arm around your waist. “S’ good.”
He closed the inches between you himself this time, kissing you gently, clearly going slow so as not to overwhelm you. His hand rubbed along the small of your back and you fought down a moan; it felt fucking incredible. You cupped the side of his jaw, feeling the rasp of his five o’clock shadow, running your thumb along his cheekbone. The kisses flowed uninterrupted then, after those small touches, and your body relaxed into his lap as if it belonged there. Kissing him was the highest high you’d ever felt in your life. It was addictive. You just wanted more and more of it, of him, as startling as it was to think about now.
Bucky reclined on the couch and wrapped both arms around you this time, lightly stroking up and down your back over the baggy sweatshirt. You sighed into his mouth as he slid his thigh up enough to add pressure between your legs. Pleasure welled up from your core and spilled out into your limbs. Gently, he rested his hands on your waist and then slid them under the oversized sweatshirt, letting his palms graze across your sides up to your rib cage, but he stopped short of your breasts out what you assumed was gentlemanly respect. After all, you hadn’t even been on a single date yet.
And despite that fact, part of you honestly didn’t care.
Your own hands busied themselves dragging down the length of his chest to under his t-shirt. He hummed as your fingers smoothed over his cobblestone abs and made their way up towards his pecs. You were breathing harder, faster, exploring his naked skin, feeling scars along the way. It was odd—you usually weren’t this bold with a guy. You let him take the lead more often than not, but you wanted to touch and feel and taste. You’d been curious, deep down, about what it would feel like to be intimate with him. His dog tags jingled as your hands made it up towards his collarbones, the shirt bunching up around his midsection as you stroked his soft, scarred skin and felt like you couldn’t get enough of it.
You moaned for the first time when he drew his fingertips down the length of your spine from your shoulder blades down to your hips, unable to help yourself. It felt too good—that simple, sensual, intimate touch. He sighed against your lips, his voice octaves lower than before. “You feel good, sweetheart.”
“So do you,” you murmured, smoothing your fingers down his six pack. “That’s the problem.”
“Hmm?”
“Haven’t had sex in forever,” you confessed as you made yourself stop kissing him enough to explain. “And this feels really, really good. But we haven’t even gone out on a date. Having sex with you right now would be…irresponsible.”
“Mm.” He lifted his eyebrows, his expression teasing. “And we’re both the most responsible people in the world, right?”
You let out a whine. “I mean it. I want this—I want you—more than anything right now, but we don’t even know if this is going to work out. What if we’re not compatible as a couple? Hell, what if I’m a terrible lay because I’m so out of practice?”
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he reminded you. “You want to have sex before a first date? That’s great. You want to sit here and cuddle and finish watching the game? That’s great. You want to go back to being friends and never talk about this again? That’s great. We can do—or not do—anything and I’m good with it if I’m spending time with you. That’s all I want. Okay, girlie?”
You nibbled your bottom lip before answering. “Are you sure? I just…I don’t want you to think of me differently for sleeping with you like the minute after you told me you’re interested in me.”
He huffed. “Really? All the baggage I got goin’ on and you think I’m gonna judge you for it?”
“Well, you never know—”
He kissed you again, his tongue grazing your lower lip, the intensity of the kiss rendering you silent. He let go, his thick lashes brushing your cheeks as he looked up at you with a dangerous smirk. “What I know is that you’re not the only one in this apartment who wants to have filthy hot sex on this couch right now. If you knew even a fraction of the kind of stuff I want to do to you, you wouldn’t feel so guilty, baby.”
Oh God. Like you weren’t hot before. The way the term of endearment rolled off his tongue was nothing short of heavenly. “Like what?”
You were sure he could hear the eager tremble in your voice, but the way his smirk deepened made you think he liked it. His gaze wandered down your body. “For starters, marking up those pretty thighs of yours. That way every time you get undressed, you think about me. About how good I made you feel.”
You sank your nails into his abs a little harder, your own voice deepening with arousal. “What else?”
His fingers flexed where they rested on your hips. “Getting underneath this sweatshirt. Kissing up and down your stomach. Finding out just how sensitive you are. Teasing you nice and slow until you’re all worked up.”
You could barely get the next words out. “Then what?”
His blue eyes glinted. “Things I’ve only dreamt about.”
“Fuck it,” you muttered with the utmost conviction.
You leaned back on your knees and pulled off the sweatshirt. No bra. Just you underneath.
Bucky looked at you and licked his lips. “You are all kinds of beautiful, baby.”
He sat up and locked his mouth onto your throat, biting hard enough to elicit a deep, shuddering moan out of you. You clung to his shoulders as he kissed the mark he’d left and trailed down your neck to your collarbone, his big, heavy hands sliding around your upper body to just under your bare breasts. He cupped them gently as his hot mouth dripped kisses down over the soft flesh. He took your right breast inside his mouth first, sucking, circling the nipple with his tongue, his other hand lightly massaging the left one in rhythm. The cool metal of his left arm contrasted amazingly with how your skin felt as if it were on fire. He switched his hand and mouth, drawing more and more sounds out of you as he worshiped your breasts. He kissed your breastbone and rubbed his stubble against either side of your delicate skin, leaving it flushed from his attentions.
Bucky twisted around with his back to the couch cushions and settled you over his thick thighs, working his right hand inside your borrowed boxer shorts. You whimpered as his fingers lightly ran over your wet sheath, stroking with the middle one, his palm adding pressure of your clit. You almost wanted to pull away in shame of just how wet he’d made you just from kissing and touching your chest. You clung to his shoulders, too drunk from kissing him to say anything other than his name.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re in good hands, trust me.”
His middle finger delved inside you.
Your eyes crossed. Your breath came out in a shaky sigh. Oh, yes. There it was. Pleasure. You’d missed it rather badly.
He sighed against your throat, kissing one side, then the other, lightly sucking your ear lobe as he let the digit sink deep into you and then ease out again. He didn’t rush it; just settled into a slow rhythm as your inner walls adjusted to him gradually. Heat ate at your belly and climbed up your spine. You couldn’t help pushing your hips down against his hand to add more friction.
“Mm, that’s it, good girl,” he growled against the shell of your ear. “Just take it, sweetheart. Take it, it’s all yours, sweetheart.”
When you were relaxed and pliant, he pushed in a second finger. You yelped. “James!”
“Yes, that’s a good girl, keep going,” he urged, his fingers sliding faster and deeper than before, unlocking something hungry and desperate within you as he neared your spot. Your arms tightened around his shoulders as you ascended one thrust of his fingers at a time. You were close. You hadn’t been this close in a while, not by yourself, and certainly not with any of the recent guys in your love life. And yet he worked your body like he knew it all along, like he had a manual with your name on it and he’d read it cover to cover. You were soaring towards the climax, amazed anything could feel this good.
“Ah…James…I’m gonna…c-come…”
He caught your lips again and you felt the lustful smile on his. “Good. I want you to come.”
“But it’s—mm—it’s so soon,” you protested, though you were unable to stop rolling your hips to take his fingers in over and over.
He chuckled lightly. “No one’s keeping time, gorgeous. Let go. I’ve got you.”
Something about that gentle reassurance while he was making you feel this good set you off. You tried to resist it, but the pleasure overwhelmed you, got the better of you, made you surrender to the pulsing rhythm he’d found. You hit the climax on an exhale and clung to him for strength as your body let go of the tension it had been holding. Wave after wave of bliss flowed over your naked skin and seeped down into your overheated core. You were lost to oblivion for entire minutes.
And to think you’d almost said no.
You shivered as he slipped his slick fingers free and lightly circled your clit with them. He kissed you, his tone still teasing. “You good, girlie?”
You kissed him back. “Great.”
“Perfect. Hang onto me.” He wrapped your legs the rest of the way around him and carried you to the bedroom in the easiest strides, as if you were light as a feather. He deposited you on the edge of the bed and then took off his shirt, tossing it beside the bed. You didn’t dare look away, not when you’d been aching to see that barrel chest for yourself. He pushed the jeans off, leaving him in black boxers, and leaned over you enough to grip your legs under the knees. You giggled as he dragged you down the bedspread towards him and pushed your knees apart to let him in. He kissed his way down the inside of your left leg, stopping every so often to lightly nibble and suck at the delicate flesh until he left marks, only stopping once he reached the hem of your borrowed boxers. He did the same to your left leg and then straightened both out in front of you, his eyes finding yours as he gripped the cotton and pulled it off of you. You were naked in front of him for the first time. You couldn’t decide if you were more terrified or excited.
Bucky’s eyes ran down your curves at his leisure. He shook his head once. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, just like I thought you’d be.”
You blushed as he didn’t remove your legs from atop his shoulders, instead stooping that large frame down until with his face level with your—oh, hell. “James, I—”
“Don’t bother,” he purred as he slid his hands underneath you enough to grip a handful each of your ass. “Been dyin’ to get a taste of you.”
Without further ado, he dove in.
And it turns out he was just as adept at oral sex as he was at anything else.
“Oh, fuck.” You scrambled for the bedspread and grabbed fistfuls as his tongue traced your outline, swiping up the nectar that had collected, headed straight for your clit. He found it and ran the flat of his tongue over it, then circled around it with the tip, his plush lips forming a seal over it as he sucked. You thought your soul was about to exit your body. It felt beyond amazing. Life changing levels of good. The kind of good head you read about in erotica late at night after a frustrating day at work. Oscar worthy oral sex.
Worse still was the low, gratified growl that left him after that first taste. He licked his lips and smirked at you, his eyes half-lidded, his voice buzzing with lust. “Sweet like a plum.”
That got a full body blush out of you, the kind you didn’t even think was possible, but he didn’t let you dwell on it for long. He squeezed your ass in his big hands enough to cajole another moan out of you and slipped his tongue inside you. You collapsed to the bed, your spine arching, your head rolling back, crying out—but for more or for mercy, you had no idea. He found a quick, aggressive rhythm in no time flat, his dog tags clinking as he thrust his tongue inside you like it were his fingers from earlier, driving you crazy with pleasure. You twisted and writhed, light sweat beading on your skin, trembling as he pushed you to the brink of madness again.
He withdrew long enough to lick one of the kiss marks on your inner thigh, then rubbed his grizzled cheek against it to make you squirm. “You gonna come, baby?”
“Yes,” you whispered frantically.
He kissed his way up your leg to the next mark, grazing it with his teeth. “Say it for me, sweetheart.”
“I’m gonna come.”
“Good girl,” he purred as he kissed his way back down to your sex. “Come for me. You’re so sweet when you come.”
He pushed his tongue inside you again and the pulsing surge of it inside you was too much. You mewled as your body surrendered a second time—coming on his tongue and lips and devious mouth all at once. Bucky growled again without withdrawing and the vibration tingled up to your clit and set you off a second time. He lapped leisurely at your slick walls until you’d gone boneless on the bed, panting like you’d run a marathon, sex-drunk. Then he kissed each of your thighs and sat back on his knees, wiping his mouth with the bed spread as he watched you try in vain to catch your breath.
“You’re evil,” you slurred from under your heavy eyelids. “Pure evil, Barnes.”
Bucky chuckled and scooted you up until you rested comfortably on the pillows at the head of the bed. “Not the first time I’ve heard a woman say that.”
“And it won’t be the last.” You didn’t resist as he crawled up to meet you and kissed you. You ran your hands down the broad plains of his shoulder blades and over the flat, hard surface of his back. You hit the hem of his boxers and boldly reached inside to find your prize. And what a prize indeed. Bucky had a long, thick cock and he nipped your lower lip when your fingers encircled it.
“You bein’ a bad girl?” he mused as you freed him from the boxers and began to stroke him.
“Maybe,” you teased.
“Careful. Bad girls get punished.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want.” He sucked in a quick breath when you squeezed him near the tip. “I’ve always wondered if being a Super Soldier affected your stamina in bed, you know.”
“Is that right?” he asked with a sly smile.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, I can go all night, if that’s what you’re asking.”
You shuddered. “Good to know. Now roll over.”
Bucky lifted his eyebrows slightly. You gave him a more intense look. “I’m 0 for 2, Barnes. You’ve got to at least let me try to even the score.”
“I wasn’t aware this was a competition.”
“Have you met me?”
He chuckled again. “Smartass.”
Then he dutifully rolled onto his back. You landed astride his hips and then tugged off the boxers, keeping a steady rhythm of strokes. He settled against the pillows, watching you from under his lashes, his breathing measured but faster than usual. You definitely weren’t a sex kitten, but you’d still been around the block and you wanted to make him feel good too.
You bent and licked him from the bottom of the shaft up to the tip. He tensed and hissed. You heard some of the joints in the metal arm pop and concluded it was a good thing in this case. He wasn’t anything near small, so you didn’t try to deep throat him right off the bat; you swallowed the head of his cock and worked your way down a stroke at a time, keeping your fingers curled around the base. Bucky swore and slid his right hand to rest along the nape of your neck to encourage you. Once you’d gotten past the initial gag reflex, you took him inside your mouth to the root and sucked enough to hollow out your cheeks. He swore louder. The low groans had you wetter than wet and impatient, but you managed to stave off your own desire and kept going until he gripped your shoulder.
“Gonna come,” he whispered hoarsely, his pupils huge, his handsome face flushed. “Gonna come if you don’t stop, baby.”
“It’s okay, I want you to,” you whispered back, moving his hand back to its perch along your nape. He swallowed hard and nodded, letting you work. You kept going faster and faster, craving more and more of his sultry growls until his cock throbbed hard and he spilled come down your throat. The moan that left him was long and hushed and you’d remember it for the rest of your life. You kept your eyes open enough to see him in his ecstasy and committed the sight to memory. Maybe it had been a while for him too. All you knew was that you’d do anything to hear those sounds out of him on a permanent basis.
You weren’t the least bit surprised he was still rock hard even after you let him go. You wiped your mouth clean and crawled up to meet him, using the same tone he’d used with you. “You good, Barnes?”
He let out a hoarse laugh and caught your arm, flipping you onto your back. His knees nudged your thighs apart as he planted his hands on either side of you, pure mischief in those wintry eyes. “Better than ever, sweetheart.”
You didn’t resist a moan as his heavy body flattened you to the bed, his cock aligned with your slit, all that firm, smooth skin and hard-packed muscles yours to touch and taste. You couldn’t help rubbing up against him anywhere you could touch him, too excited, too thrilled, too ready for more. Every kiss set you aflame. And you were fine burning to ashes for him.
“Tell me,” you whispered against his lips. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you,” he whispered, kissing the edge of your lips. Then he kissed the other side. “I need you.”
You kissed him. “Me too.”
He pushed inside you.
And it was glorious.
He’d made you beyond ready for him, so his cock slipped in easily and fit to the hilt. He stretched you deliciously. The sound that escaped your lips was somewhere between a mewl and a groan—just an animalistic noise after being conquered by a mate. Your nerves crackled and fizzled with long-awaited pleasure. The tightness at your core eased finally after not being satisfied for so long.
Above you, Bucky exhaled hotly and dragged his gaze down your naked body to where he’d just pierced you, licking his lower lip. “Perfect. Fuckin’ perfect.”
You held onto his forearms as he pulled out, slowly, savoring the way it made you tremble and almost beg him to come back to you. The next thrust arched your spine and made your toes curl. “Fuck!”
His lips captured yours and the two of you took off into flight.
He fucked you steadily, not too fast, not too slow, just hard enough, chest to chest, your bodies sliding over the covers in sync. He breathed soft curses into your ear, your hair, always adjusting to a spot that made you moan harder and dig your fingernails into his wrists. You couldn’t help chanting his name in delight as he pounded you into submission, feeding that lustful want within you with every stroke.
He hit just the right spot and lightning shot up your spine. You cried out and locked your legs around him, whimpering, “Gonna come, gonna come, James, mm, please!”
“Watch me,” he purred. “Open your eyes, baby. Watch me when I make you come.”
You shivered underneath him, your thighs tightening around his waist. “James, please.”
“Be a good girl,” he murmured. “Be a good girl and watch me, sweetheart.”
Your resolve weakened. You opened your eyes to see him there above you—handsome, disheveled, vulnerable, aroused, an image you’d certainly never forget for the rest of your life. He kissed you, sliding his right hand around your throat to hold you still as he kissed you while he fucked you. “Mm, that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl, so fuckin’ wet, baby, you feel so good to me. Come. Come for me.”
The climax hit without warning. One minute, you were there beneath him and then you were off into the atmosphere, saturated in pleasure from head to toe. Nothing compared. It was a sweetness you couldn’t comprehend.
Above you, Bucky growled softly and sped up his thrusts, hitting you dead center, drawing impassioned cries from you as it built you higher and higher to another breaking point. He ground out your name as he came inside you not a moment later, his cock searing hot as he spilled into you again and again.
You ended up in a heap on the bed, both gasping for air, your hearts thudding in sync. Gradually, you calmed and returned to awareness, your arms around his neck, sifting your fingers into his thick, dark, damp brown hair as the afterglow wrapped around you like a warm blanket.
Bucky sighed wistfully against your neck. “I guess you were right about foot massages. They’re pretty damn effective, huh?”
You burst into giggles. “Shut up, Barnes.”
Bucky grinned as he pushed up on one elbow and kissed you. “I know a good way to do that.”
You giggled harder. “I’m sure you do. But shame on you for seducing me. Now I have to take another bath.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, who took whose shirt off first? I believe that was you, girlie.”
You blushed. “Alright, fine, I’ll take 30% of the blame here, but no more.”
“Oh yeah? It’s all on yours truly, huh?”
“Yup. Unless you want to blame it on the Thursday Blues.”
“Sounds good to me.” He spared a cursory glance at the bathroom. “Do you want your bath now or later?”
You eyed him. “What are the odds you behave yourself if I spend the night?”
He pretended to think about it. “Slim to none.”
You shook your head. “Then you owe me a bath tomorrow morning, Barnes. Now, where were we?”
He grinned. “I believe you were shutting me up.”
“Why, yes, I believe I was.”
FIN