Work Text:
The laboratory is your sanctuary.
You know the place of every vial, every beaker. You know the name and chemical formula of each of their colorful contents, and you know precisely what would happen upon combination because you’d seen each reaction a thousand times. It was an effort now to find combinations you hadn’t seen.
You know the command code for each of the robots and computers which work tirelessly in perpetual research, mindless beings that you built because you have so much going on in that head of yours but only two hands to put every idea into practice.
You eat and sleep here. You think you’ll die here, one day. The thought doesn’t bother you much.
You live and breathe the lab. You live and breathe your work.
A doctor - no, not the medical kind, but an academic doctor, which you imagined, delusionally, to be the superior kind - working in a place every scientist in the world aspires to, with the kind of budget that you could only dream about. And you’d only gotten here because of your dedication to your work. And also probably for your supernatural ability of perfect memorization, although you hate when people use that as an excuse to dismiss your hard work, so you never really bring it up unless you have to.
So no, you had no room in your life for other things.
And, you know, you could make a reasonable argument that you were working for a good cause. That’s what the Avengers had always stood for, wasn’t it? Protection of the innocent, justice for the wronged? Despite recent controversies, you were inclined to agree. You’d met most of them, and you can tell that they genuinely care, even if recently they’d been arguing about the how to execute their work.
You heard that recently, that argument had turned bigger than just a simple disagreement. That some of them had even left, in the name of some kind of morality mission. Some kind of incident in Lagos with Wanda, then the Sokovia Accords. The assassination of a Wakandan king. The Avengers, split.
Whatever. It was all just noise, distraction to the work. You never really paid attention to any of it.
The only times you purposefully sought out human interaction was asking Friday to ping Banner or Stark to come in and review your work, ask questions which might expose the holes that your sleep-deprived brain might have missed. You didn’t necessarily mind working with them side-by-side, but they both knew that more often than not, they were just objects in your way. And it was just so hard for you to consider their comfort in your space when your head was so full of theories.
You were eating one day in the lab, waiting for an agonizingly-long upload to complete on your laptop, when Stark storms in without a greeting. This was unusual - Stark was often an emotional being with frequent, angry tantrums, but it was rare for him to be quiet.
“Hello?” you offer, and it’s like he doesn’t even hear you as he hurriedly rifles through a tool drawer full of USBs. None are labeled, on account that you just memorized their contents individually and would rather use your time for other matters, and Tony has chastised you for this before.
“Why haven’t we labeled any of these-”
He’s mumbling to himself when the ceiling of your lab caves in.
You’re only given half a second’s warning before concrete flies at you. It’s just out of range of directly falling on you and crushing you, but still your hands fly to shield your face as the force of fallen debris knocks you backwards.
Your back slams against the far counters, and you’re winded.
You hear Tony calling your name, his voice desperate. Through the haze of smoke and rubble, you see the glistening of red metal, and you know he’s already suited up.
Blinking, you recognize a body on the giant slab of floor which fell - Vision. Vision is an entity you’d always been deathly envious of, with a mind like a computer and a body which didn’t need to waste time on mortal necessities like food and sleep. Even now, he just stands and looks around to see where he ended up, as if it was all just a major inconvenience to experience a force which would have killed anyone else instantaneously.
“Mr. Stark,” Vision starts, spotting him.
“Vision?” His voice has a slight robotic sheen to it, emanating through the Iron Man suit. “Whatever you’re about to tell me better be worth the million it’s going to cost me to repair all of this. And the inconvenience to our special brainiac's research.”
“It’ll be more than a million, Sir, as I seem to have fallen at least six floors,” Vision says. “But unfortunately the more pressing matter is that of Wanda.”
They exchange a look - as much as non-human faces could.
Tony comes to you and helps you up. “Friday, full body scan,” he commands, and you feel the lasers roaming up and down your body. Your head is pounding, and your hand strays to touch a piece of your hair, which comes away wet with red. You can feel a sharp pain on your arm.
“Oh, god,” you moan, looking around.
“You’re alright. Nothing we can’t get fixed up,” Tony reassures. “Mild concussion, some scratches-”
“My work.”
“Oh.”
You look around at the destruction, and can feel actual, real tears pricking the corner of your eyes. Everything was gone.
“Look, as much as I would love to sit here and weep with you, it looks like an emergency vacation to Germany is imminent.” Tony looks around to meet Vision’s eye. “Who was it? Nat?”
“Clint, actually,” Vision sighs.
“Friday, load up the quinjet.”
“On it.”
Tony says your name, but you still can’t look away. You can see smoke rising, and you know that a combustion is inevitable.
“She’s in shock,” Tony says. “We’ll have to bring her. Can’t leave her here alone. I don’t trust her not to kill herself trying to fix it all alone.”
“That would not be wise,” Vision warns. “It is likely Germany will be catastrophic-”
“We have to move now. Get everyone. Everyone.”
You feel your vision wavering, the figures with once hard edges turning blurry. Your knees buckle, and you end up falling into Tony’s metal arms.
You close your eyes. You can’t live in a world without your research, so for now, you’ll pretend it still exists in a dreamless unconsciousness.
* * *
You wake up in a plane. Specifically, the quinjet. You are alone.
You stand, taking in your surroundings. Someone had bandaged your arm, where you had sliced open, and your head no longer pounded. You look down, and see you’re wearing some kind of hospital gown. How long has it been? You don’t like the sensation of not being able to remember. You remembered everything, but apparently even you weren’t immune to amnesia from injury.
You go to the control center in the front of the plane, and look out of the glass horizon. The quinjet is parked inside of an airport hangar. Did Stark say Germany?
Suddenly, you see figures racing towards the ship. You let out a sigh of relief - they can take you home.
You’d had some time to think it over. And really, it wasn’t so bad. You could start over. And thinking about how much work there was to be done with that, it was honestly kind of exciting. The worst part of it was just waiting for the construction to be completed on the building.
The figures race closer, and you jolt when you see a building crumbling behind them, the smoke from the rubble chasing. It is two men, but neither of them are wearing the characteristic red design of Tony Stark. They get closer, and you see that it is Captain America, and another man with a silvery metal arm. They’re being chased by a man who looks like… a cat?
Then, the figures stop. You lean forward, and see that actually, Natasha is blocking their way. She says something you can’t hear, then shoots a stun-lazer at the cat-man, who crumbles upon impact.
They run past her. You can hear boots hit the loading doc, racing inside.
Something was definitely wrong, and you are absolutely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Voices approach the control room, and you turn around just as Steve and a stranger stumble in. Their eyes land on you, and freeze.
Steve is always good at carefully concealing his emotions, but now he looks stuck. A deer in headlights.
The stranger, well… wow.
Your eyes land on him, and it takes your breath away.
He’s gorgeous. His face was all hard lines and rough edges, framed by long, unruly dark hair, and light blue eyes like pearls of ice. His body looked perfectly carved from stone, all rounded, thick muscle along his broad chest.
Your heart flutters. You’d never felt this feeling before.
Attraction?
It was scientific, obviously. He exuded so much masculine sex appeal that your body was having a natural reaction. You weren’t necessarily keeping track, but you must have been nearing your ovulation, and that probably accounted for some of it. You knew all of this.
So why can’t you tear your eyes away? He stares at you, and you feel naked beneath his gaze.
“Steve?” He says, and his voice sends chills down your spine. His voice is husky, deep.
Steve Rogers says your name. “I… didn’t know you would be here.”
“I didn’t know I would be, either,” you say.
You sound stupid. Why did you say that?
“We need this ship,” Steve says. “To go to Siberia.”
“Siberia?” you echo. “For what?”
“I’m sorry, but we can explain on the way there.” He gently pushes past you to sit in the pilot’s seat, and the stranger follows him.
When he passes you, you are overwhelmed with the scent of him, like sweat and smoke and pines. His eyes don’t leave you, and when he’s so close you think you might touch, you feel literal sparks of anticipation spreading across your skin.
He sits in the seat next to Steve, and looks out at the windshield.
“Sit down,” Steve commands. “Put on your seatbelt.”
“What is this-” you mumble, but Steve wastes no time pushing the quinjet into motion. You stumble, and quickly find your way to a seat on the side and strap yourself in. “Hey, can you take me home?”
“No,” the stranger says, and you’re stunned into silence.
You look out of the window as you fly, and notice the absolute chaos of the airport outside - as well as the bodies which litter the floor.
The Avengers had fought… each other?
“Oh my god,” you mutter. “What happened?”
Steve says your name, introducing you to the stranger, and tells him about your occupation at the Avengers Tower. “And this is Bucky.”
“Bucky? You mean James Barnes?” You recognize the nickname. Steve had told you once, a long, long time ago, about a friend he’d had in his past, and when you say you can remember everything, it really meant everything. Every conversation, every memory. The interaction had reappeared in your mind when you saw the name on the news, but you never had the chance to ask anyone about it. “Aren’t you the guy who's wanted for that assassination?”
“I forgot that you can do that,” Steve sighs.
“If you’re Tony Stark’s personal scientist, shouldn’t you know all of this already?” Bucky retorts.
“Why would we talk about you?” you ask, and it’s a genuine question even though you know it could come off as rude.
“She’s extremely dedicated to her work,” Steve offers as an explanation.
Bucky just clicks his tongue.
Steve gives you the context on the way. He says that he would take you home, but he’s a wanted man. You assume this means that you are either a hostage, or an accomplice, depending on how you felt about the situation.
But his explanations make sense. For once, you’re seeing a side of things other than just scientifically.
So you decide, for now, that you’ll go along with them. You’d always liked Steve, and this stranger was hot. So it was probably fine. You couldn’t work while your lab was being repaired, anyways.
Eventually, you land in Siberia. They tell you you can wait on the ship, and you’re fine with that.
You don’t end up actually waiting very long. You thought it might take a day or two, but they return in several hours.
Steve is calling your name even before he gets on the ship, and you press the button to lower the loading doc and meet him in the storage compartment. Your mouth falls open upon seeing Steve, basically dragging Bucky back in, who is badly injured and missing his metal arm. A gash of wires is in place where it looks like it’d been ripped off.
“Mission failure?” you ask.
“No, actually,” Steve grunts. “Just a change of plans. Can you fix him?”
“Me?” You furrow your brow.
“Yeah. Aren’t you a doctor?”
“Yes, but not a medical doctor-”
“Please.”
The look in his eyes makes you weak. He is desperate.
You turn to Bucky. “Okay, just lay him down. I’ll try what I can.”
“Thank you.”
Steve helps you arrange him. Bucky is not unconscious, but heaving weakly, with eyes pinched shut. Steve leaves you to go pilot the ship, and you’re left alone with him.
You find a rag and some water, and come back to him.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, before you even touch him. “Just some bruises.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” you say, as you lightly dab the towel to wipe away the blood on his temples. He stills under your touch, the creases in his forehead slowly disappearing.
He hisses, when you hit a particular cut and pull away. “Sorry,” you say. “Look, I tried to tell Steve. I’m not a medical doctor-”
“No,” Bucky groans. “It’s fine. Don’t stop.”
Your breath catches, but you continue to dab at his head, more so cleaning him than curing with shaking hands. Once you get most of the blood and dirt away, you go off to find a basic first aid kit and come back.
“I’m going to use some alcohol wipes,” you say. “On some of your cuts.”
“My chest-” he wheezes, his only arm raising to indicate. “Here-”
“I can’t see it,” you sigh. “I’m going to have to take this off.”
“S’ fine.”
You take the scissors from the first aid kit and slowly cut away at his shirt, pasted to his body in a combination of blood and sweat.
You expose his chest. God, he was huge. In terms of muscle mass, you mean… He was just a beautiful, beautiful man. You couldn’t look away, your hand with the alcohol wipe suspended over him as your eyes scanned the entirety of him.
“Hey,” he says softly, and you’re jolted out of your stupor.
“I’m so sorry,” you mumble awkwardly, your face turning red. But you go back to work, cleaning the deep cut on his upper chest.
“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” he mutters, in between sharp inhales of preparation.
You can feel him watching you as you work. “What did Steve say your name was, again?” he asks, and you feel a flutter in your stomach.
This was so strange. Why were you reacting this way to him? A man has never been able to distract you so badly. You’d been away from the lab for too long.
You tell him your name. He nods, with a grimace. “And how come I’ve never seen you, or heard about you?”
“You heard Steve. I’m dedicated,” you roll your eyes. “They make fun. But I just prefer to stay in my lab.”
“If I was as brilliant as you, then I probably would, too,” he says, and the compliment sends sheets of warmth along your skin. “I wish I was smart enough to devote myself to something other than killing.”
You blush. “I… I’m sure you’re plenty smart.”
“Well, you don’t know me too well yet.”
Yet.
“Well, to a normal person, what you do is probably a lot more exciting than what I do,” you say.
“You’re not a normal person?” he asks.
“I don’t think I ever have been,” you smile.
He stares at your face, the upturn of your lips, like it’s the first time he’s seen anyone do it. Then, he smiles back at you.
You can feel your heart melting.
“You should try it sometime. There’s a lot more to life than work.” Bucky closes his eyes. “At least, that’s what Steve keeps telling me. It’s something I’m working on, myself.”
“Thanks for the advice.” You clean away the last of the blood on his chest, then look up. “By the way, where are we going?”
“Probably wherever that guy’s from.”
You look to where Bucky is pointing, and see the cat-man. He is sitting and watching the pair of you from across the cargo room, silent and stoic.
“How long was he standing there?”
* * *
The four of you go to Wakanda. It is nothing like you could have ever imagined.
Even just upon entry, seeing the way the landscape folds away as you fly into a mountain… You used to think you were the luckiest scientist in the world. Now you know you were very, very mistaken.
The cat-man turns out to be the new Wakandan king. They call him the Black Panther, but his name is T’Challa. He takes you to a great research center which serves as their hospital, and you are introduced to his sister, Shuri.
They take in Bucky and begin the quick work of healing him. Their machines are incredible. You’d thought that the robots in Avengers Tower were advanced, but coming here and seeing everything made you feel as though everything you’d ever believed in was a lie.
Shuri learns of your ability with memory, and upon hearing your name, exclaims in joy: “I know you! I’ve read your research on Hole Theory! Has Stark kept you locked up in his tower this whole time?”
She leads you away to go talk about your research, together - but you send one last glance back to Bucky, sleeping on their worktable as doctors stitch him back up, and some deep part of you hopes desperately that you’ll have a chance to speak with him again. Soon.
Some time passes.
Steve tells you that you will likely have to lay low here, for the time being. Stark has painted you out to be a hostage, and if you were to go back now, you would never be able to quietly go back to work by yourself, what with how much government authority has infiltrated the Avengers operations.
You don’t even care. You divest yourself into work, only here, in bigger and better labs with more assistants to help. Shuri sets you up, and you find yourself becoming close friends with the Wakandan princess. You continue writing up your research, and just delay the publishing for after you’re out of the spotlight. If that time will ever come.
You don’t see Bucky for a while.
Not until one day, when you’re sitting outside in a small garden. Shuri finally found out about your nature to never leave your workspace, and commanded you to go outside for an hour. She’d mentioned something about going into the town, getting a coffee or something… and as the princess, you couldn’t really decline. But an hour was way too long to do nothing, so you just sat amongst the flowers, thinking.
You hear footsteps approaching, and turn to find Bucky.
“You,” he says, his blue eyes lighting up. “Hey.”
“Hello.” You lift a hand to shield the sun from your eyes, to see him.
He looks good. Healthy. His hair is long, but at least brushed through. He wears regular clothes, and a prosthetic arm which looks practical rather than dangerous.
“You found my spot.”
You look around. “Your spot?”
“Yeah. Mind if I sit?”
You shake your head, and he comes to take a seat next you in the grass. You can feel your heartbeat quickening, and his presence is so overwhelming, in the best way possible.
“It’s beautiful here,” he says.
“Oh yes,” you say, but you’re only thinking about the lab in your response.
Bucky chuckles. “Is this your first time out here?”
“Here? Well… yes,” you admit. “I’ve been spending most of my time working with the princess.”
“Working? You’re on vacation, doll,” he drawls, and the nickname makes you blush.
“If you knew the things they’re working on, up there,” you say. “You would never be able to stop.”
“Yeah? What kind of things?”
You look at him. “They have machines that can build artificial skin and stimulate regeneration in seconds. That’s how they fixed you. Isn’t that amazing?”
He meets your eye, and he’s silent for a moment, thinking. The sunlight makes his skin look bronzy, and you can’t stop staring at the little details of his face. You want to memorize every line. And you can, and probably will.
“Let me show you something.”
He stands, and offers his hand to help you up.
You take it, and where your skin touches his, you ignite.
He doesn’t let go.
“Show me what?” you ask, nervously.
“Just come with me,” he says, and leads you down the path towards the town. “I’m taking you out.”
“Out?” you repeat, but obediently follow.
The pair of you walk towards the outskirts of the city. Even the architecture is so beautiful, painted in bright colors and illuminated with vibrant lights. You’re acutely aware of how he never lets go of your hand.
He ducks into a building, and you find that it’s a restaurant. The aroma of spices overwhelms your nose as you enter, and your mouth begins to water instinctively. It seems to be a popular place, with plenty of customers chatting at tables and smiling.
He leads you up to the front, and orders a dish you’d never heard of before.
“And for you?” The waitress at the counter asks.
She’s beautiful, with dark skin and gold makeup lining her eyes. You’re thinking now about how you must look - pale and disheveled, in clothes you’ve been wearing since yesterday.
“Oh, I…” You look up at the menu. “I’m not sure.”
“Here,” Bucky says, and orders something for you.
He pays, then leads you up some stairs to the roof of the building, where you find that there are more tables.
He even pulls your chair out for you, helps you into your seat. You look out at the skyline, and beyond where the sun seems to begin to set.
You bite your lip.
“I’ve only been here once,” Bucky says. “But even then I knew it would be so much better to share this experience with someone.”
“I think I’m underdressed,” you mumble, looking at the bodies around you.
“You look beautiful,” he says. “I mean, you look like you.”
You look up, and now he seems like he’s feeling a little nervous. You see him fidgeting with the tablecloth, biting his lip.
“Well, you don’t know me too well, yet,” you repeat the words he spoke to you on the ship, when you were first coming to Wakanda.
“I want to,” he says, and you feel like the entire world takes on a new color.
“Why?” you ask, and you can’t help yourself. “None of it makes sense to me. You don’t know anything about me, and we don’t share similar interests. I’m not attractive-”
“I would disagree with that one, doll,” he smiles.
“-and I’m certainly not someone who has had enough experience to be able to navigate this sort of thing-”
“Sweetheart, slow down,” he says, waving his hands.
You just blink at him.
“Look,” he starts. “Your feelings aren’t something that can be quantified or calculated. If you really want an explanation… I just feel like I’m somehow drawn to you. I know that’s kind of ridiculous, and doesn’t make any sense, but…”
“No,” you say. “I think I do understand.”
And you do. Because you felt it, too.
That pull, whenever you first saw him. A feeling so strong, so new, that you didn’t know how to react.
He smiles, but looks down at the table.
“I know that you know I’m not a good guy,” he sighs. “You know what I’ve done. I mean, I’m the reason you’re considered a hostage and the entire UN is looking for you-”
“The UN?” You gasp.
“Uh, yeah,” he shrugs. “Sorry. I guess I thought you would have already known that.”
“No, I-” you say, shaking your head. “No, that doesn’t bother me. I just… I’ve never done this before.”
“This?” Bucky indicates with his finger. “Been on a date?”
“This is a date?” You blush.
“I’d like for it to be,” he says shyly. “But if you don’t, then it’s completely fine - I can take you back to the lab.”
“No,” you say, and for the first time you mean it - you don’t want to go back. “It’s a date.”
“Alright.” He smiles, and it lights up your world. “To be honest, I haven’t been on a date in… well… decades.”
The waitress eventually brings you your food, and it tastes like nothing you’d ever experienced before - mostly because you hadn’t, since most of your food in the past was for convenience or sustenance, rather than enjoyment. You and Bucky talk for the rest of the evening about a thousand things - you feel like you could have talked to him forever.
But eventually, like all things, the night comes to an end. It’s dark, and you’d already watched the mesmerizing sunset over the Wakandan skyline, and Bucky asks to walk you back to your place.
Not to the lab, but to your room, which you’d barely spent any time in.
Your heart was racing. The date went very well. Did that mean he would come in? What would happen then?
This has never happened to you before.
Your thoughts are racing when you finally reach your door. You turn to him.
“I…” you stutter, and you lose all sense of logic when you look into his blue eyes. “I don’t know what usually happens now.”
He just smiles down at you, and you feel incredibly shy.
“Well,” he starts. “First, I’m going to tell you to have a good night. I’ll tell you that I want to see you again, and that I hope you’ll want to see me, too.” He raises a brow.
You nod. “Yes, I want to see you.”
“Good. And then I’m going to kiss you, and then I’ll leave, because I really like you, and I want to take things slow. Is that okay?”
You nod again, ever-so-slightly tilting your head up. “Yes.”
“Good.”
He cups your chin gently with his hand, and you close your eyes, bracing yourself. But what comes is not like the sheepish, emotionless kisses from flings you’d had in the past - Bucky’s lips claim yours, and you fall into the kiss like you’re falling into the sea.
He’s slow and deliberate and gentle. And you can feel yourself curling into his touch, your body leaning into his, as he deepens the kiss. His hand leaves your chin and goes to support the back of your head, snaking through your hair and leaving you with goosebumps on your skin.
You open your mouth, and his tongue slips in - you can’t suppress the resulting whine which escapes your throat, and he suddenly pulls back.
Your body is pressed against his. You can feel the hardness forming where your stomach meets his crotch, and you blush.
“Bucky?” you ask, and it sounds like a plea.
“I have to go, pretty girl,” Bucky replies. “I want to take this… seriously. I want to do it right.”
You smile. “I understand.”
“Goodnight, doll.”
“Goodnight, Bucky.”
You stare at his shadow as he walks away. You don’t know how you could possibly go back to work after this.
* * *
The next day, Bucky brings you flowers.
You’d never received flowers before. He appears at the lab, in front of your workstation, with the bouquet in hand, and you can feel your face blooming into an expression of joy.
You take your goggles off. “Hey.”
You can feel the stares of the scientists around you, and you’re suddenly shy - but Bucky is staring at you, and you feel so on fire, that you just put down your things and take his outstretched hand.
“Is now a good time?” he asks, looking around at the self-important faces.
“It’s always a good time,” you grin.
You hear Shuri call your name from across the room, and turn around.
She turns the corner and spots the pair of you, her brow furrowing in question. “Oh, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t know you were visiting us.”
“Yes, I, uh,” he tries. “If it’s alright with you, Princess, I was just going to take out-”
“Of course, of course!” Shuri starts waving the both of you out. “Take her out! She is spending way too much time in here, not enough time out there. I have a beautiful country, please go see it.”
You get into the elevator with him and send a smile to Shuri.
“I would have never expected James Barnes-” you hear her say, just as the doors shut.
That day, Bucky takes you to another restaurant. You eat another delicious meal that you didn’t know the name of. He takes you home, kisses you outside of your room again, then leaves.
He does it all over again the next day. And the day after that.
It’s an agonizing process, every time. Each day, you get closer and closer to just begging him to come in.
Each night, you see his restraint getting closer and closer to snapping.
Finally, it does.
He kisses you outside of your apartment, and now you are the one deepening the kiss. You take his face into your hands and press your body into him. You whine into his mouth with high hopes.
You feel his arms on the small of your back. Then, as they crawl lower, and lower.
“Please,” you whisper into his touch. “Oh, Bucky.”
He pulls away briefly. “Are you sure?” His eyes are alight with pure need, and you can feel him hardening through his clothes.
“Yes,” you sigh. “I’ve never been more sure.”
“It’s your first time, though, isn’t it?” He asks, and suddenly he sounds nervous.
You blush. “Yes.”
“Well, your first time should mean something-”
“It will, Bucky. I… I want it to be you,” you mumble.
“I don’t have protection,” he murmurs.
“I don’t need it,” you shake your head. “I just want to feel you.”
He looks into your eyes and sees all the confirmation he needs. So, you lead him into your room.
You go together to your bed, at once nervous but still so needy for his touch. He continues to kiss you, the hand on your back now snaking up your shirt to unclasp your bra, and you break for a moment just to take it and your shirt off.
His kisses leave your lips to slowly trace down your jaw, and then the side of your neck. You like the way his tongue feels drawing circles onto that sweet patch of skin, and you whimper. With a hand, he reaches for your breast, using his thumb to trace small circles around the peaks of your nipples.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your skin. You shudder.
“Bucky,” you whine. “Please. I need more.”
“More?” He chuckles. “You’re so needy, doll. Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you tonight, okay?”
He gently leads you to lay down, your hair splayed out around you on the pillowcase. You stare up at him and watch as he takes his own shirt off to reveal the wide expanse of his chest - a great statue of muscle, the very definition of masculinity. He takes his pants off until he’s left in just his underwear, fisting at the hard outline which only makes you shiver in anticipation.
Then, he works to get your own jeans off, sliding them down your legs to reveal you in your soaked underwear. With his thumb, he swipes at the fabric, eliciting a whimper from you.
“You’re so wet for me already,” he mutters. “You ever been touched like this before?”
“No,” you say. “Never.”
“Mmph.” He grunts, rubbing at you through your underwear, just staring at you with eyes glazed over in lust. You sigh, and he moves the fabric to the side, then uses two fingers to run down the length of your slit, coating them in your wetness.
“Oh!” You gasp, the sensation of his touch sending sparks of pleasure down your spine.
“That feel good?” He asks, rubbing his fingers now up the slit until he reaches your clit. He draws slow, agonizing circles around your weakest spot, and you completely melt into his touch.
“Oh, god,” you moan. “Bucky. Please.”
“Please what?” He asks. “Tell me what you want.”
“I…” you whimper, but you’re still so shy.
He takes his fingers away from you and puts them into his mouth to taste you, and it’s so vulgar, so sexy, that you can’t control yourself.
“I want you inside of me, Bucky,” you beg.
He takes his underwear off in response, and you stare at the length of him in awe. His cock is big, and thick in girth, and you can just about imagine the way he’ll stretch you completely open. His red tip is already beading with glistening pre-cum, and you want to taste him so badly, want to wrap your lips around his thickness-
“No, sweetheart,” he smirks down at you. “You want me to fuck you. Say it.”
“Bucky,” you sigh. “Oh, please, fuck me Bucky-”
With a grunt, he nudges his cock at your entrance, coating himself in your slickness. His hands hold open your legs, and you feel him just barely entering the tip into you, and you gasp.
“Nice and slow for you, okay?” he says, pushing himself deeper.
You feel him completely filling your walls, stretching you along his length, and you bite your lip from the pain. But the pain slowly melts away to mind-numbing pleasure, and you can’t help but rut at him, wanting, needing the friction.
He starts slow, easing you into his thrusts, but his cock is so big and deep inside of you that you can feel yourself already weakening. Your moans turn into full-on exclamations of pleasure. “Oh, my god.”
“You can be as loud as you want, doll,” he groans. “Let everyone hear how good I’m fucking you.”
“More, Bucky,” you moan. “I need more.”
He uses his thumb to circle at your clit while slowly pushing into you, and your whole body shudders. You can feel his stare on your skin, watching your every reaction to his touch, devouring your sounds, as he starts to move in and out rhythmically.
“Since that first time I saw you, I’ve wanted to do this,” he groans, staring at where your bodies connect. “Wanted to feel you tightening around me. Wanted to fill you up.”
You can sense his self-control dwindling, as his thrusts become rougher and rougher. He puts a hand on your lower stomach, and the slight pressure pushes his thrusts into that perfect sweet spot inside of you, and you cry out his name.
“That’s right, pretty girl. Cum all over my cock.”
As the pleasure builds inside of you, you can feel your pussy pulsing on his length. His thrusts turn into pounding, the sound of the slapping of his balls on your skin filling the room. The release is ecstasy. You think you genuinely see stars as he rides you through the entirety of your orgasm.
“Shit-” You feel his thrusts turning into rugged, uncoordinated motions, getting faster and faster until finally, you feel his warm release filling your insides.
He slumps over you, completely weak, his softening member still inside of you.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs, chest heaving. “I… I was going to pull out, but-”
“No, I… I wanted it inside me,” you say. “Oh, Bucky, it was so good.”
“Yeah?” He smiles. “Better than what you got goin’ on in that lab of yours?”
“Oh, god,” you laugh. “So much better.”
Bucky swipes a stray strand of hair out of your face. “I’m so glad I met you,” he murmurs. “Want to see you like this forever. Ruined beneath me.”
You smile. “I’m yours, Bucky.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And you mean it. For the first time in your life, you have a different priority than work. You want Bucky. You want to belong to him, and you want him to be yours.
You don’t know what drew him to you, or you to him. But by now you know that none of it matters. Every moment you’ll ever spend with him, you’ll remember forever. And you’ll cherish those memories for the rest of your life.