Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Dry Humping

Bucky Barnes, you think as you grind your hips down onto his, looks really fucking pretty when he’s close.

You’re both still fully clothed, him in his jeans and t-shirt, you in your top and skirt, and his hands are on your hips, helping you to move against him as he tilts his head back against the sofa, eyes clenched shut, a rough ‘baby doll’ falling from his lips. His breathing’s picked up and he’s pushing his hips back into yours, his hard-on perfectly aligned with your heat, and he groans, low and deep, as you continue to rock against him, sloppy, that rhythm you’d built up losing itself to desperation as you chase that coil winding itself tight in the pit of your belly - the same coil, you know, that’s close to giving way inside of him.

‘Come on, baby,’ you coo, and you remember belatedly you’ve never called him anything other than Buck or Bucky before, and you wonder briefly if you should have spoken about this before you ended up making out on your couch like there’s no tomorrow, him pulling you into his lap at the first opportunity he got. You lean into him, licking the shell of his ear, relishing the gasp that leaves his throat. ‘I got you, baby. I got you so good.’

He grunts, and suddenly his hands are firm on your hips, stilling your movements. You lean back and blink at him in surprise.

‘You ok?’

His eyes are still screwed shut and he nods once. ‘Yeah,’ he says, his voice sounding tight. ‘Just - need a minute. It’s - it’s been a really long time.’

You reach up and card your hands through his thick, dark hair. ‘It’s ok. Whatever you need.’

A half-smile and he leans into your touch, humming appreciatively. His breathing deepens and you know he’s trying to bring himself back down from that high and reanchor himself, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. He opens his eyes and rests his apologetic baby blues on you.

‘Sorry. That was - a lot more than I thought it would be.’ He tries to laugh it off, but he looks awkward and you can’t help but press a chaste kiss against his forehead.

‘It’s ok,’ you say. ‘Wanna stop?’

‘Uh,’ he says. ‘No. But - just maybe need to - take the foot off the gas a bit. Unless you want me fucking ruining my pants like a teenager.’

‘Mm. Sounds hot.’ You giggle at the colour that appears on his cheeks. ‘Teasing, baby.’

He closes his eyes. ‘That word is not helping, either,’ he mumbles, but there’s a smile on his face and no bite to his voice. You lean in close to his ear again, your breath hot against his skin.

‘Baby,’ you whisper, dragging out the syllables as you roll his hips against his, and he groans out loud, his grip firm again as he holds you, stops you from moving.

‘Fuck, baby doll,’ he chokes, and there’s a desperate edge to his voice that goes straight to your core, ‘you got me so close already, sweetheart. Fuck.’

When James Buchanan Barnes moved into the flat opposite yours six months ago, you hadn’t originally given him much thought. You weren’t really a get-to-know-your-neighbours kinda person, generally keeping yourself to yourself, and the idea of someone new living across the hall from you wasn’t - you thought, anyway - going to have a massive impact on your life.

Until one morning when you were running late for work - fucking stupid phone with its fucking stupid alarm clock - and you’d bolted out of your apartment, simultaneously trying to eat a bagel while also trying to lock your front door, before sprinting down the corridor - until you reached the corner and crashed into a very solid, six-foot-tall neighbour coming from the opposite direction.

‘Whoa, girlie,’ he exclaimed as you collided with his broad chest. He reached out and grabbed you just in time to stop you from falling over, steadying you as you re-found your balance. His steely gaze examined your face methodically, checking for injury, before flicking from your now dropped bagel, then back to you. ‘You ok? Places to be?’

Wow. Who knew your neighbour was so fucking hot? With his perpetual five o’clock shadow, short dark hair, sharp jawline, chiselled cheekbones and a set of baby blues that saw right through you. Plus he was fucking stacked. Who was this guy, and what romcom god had decided he would move into the flat across the hall from yours?

‘Sorry,’ you manage, trying to shake yourself out of your lusty stupor. ‘’M late for work. Wasn’t looking where I was going.’

‘Hm.’ He gives you one final once over before letting go of you and taking a step back. ‘Better to get there in one piece, girlie, than not at all.’

You pout at him. ‘My name’s not girlie.’

He chuckles at your indignation. ‘What is it, then?’

You tell him. He gives you a half-smile.

‘’M Bucky.’

When you two bumped into each other the next morning in exactly the same place, he laughed and said, ‘We should probably stop meeting like this.’

‘Are you suggesting there’s some other way we should meet?’ you asked, surprised by your own boldness.

He evidently was too, if the quirk of his eyebrow was anything to go by, but he bounced back and replied just as smoothly:

‘What did you have in mind, girlie?’

You met him for a drink that night, at a bar round the corner from your apartment block. It was there that you learnt that Bucky Barnes is a stoic motherfucker with a dry sense of humour, old-fashioned in how he always opens doors for you, always orders your drink first. He was, you couldn’t help but think, endearing in his awkwardness, the way he avoided your eye when he spoke about himself, picking at the label of his beer bottle; the way he ran his gloved hand through his hair when he felt self-conscious, unsure of how to answer the question you’d just asked. You felt proud of yourself for being able to make him laugh, and by the end of the night you measured your success in how much tension had eased in his shoulders since you had both arrived a few hours before.

When he settled up your tab that evening without even asking you - just went up and flat-out paid for it - you crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at him as he sat back down opposite you.

‘What?’

‘You didn’t need to do that.’

‘Do what?’ he asked, perplexed.

‘Settle up.’

‘Oh.’ He looks vaguely sheepish. ‘Is that not the done thing anymore?’

‘I mean - I dunno what you do back in Brooklyn, mister, but round here we split our bills. Now it means I need to pay you back, which means you have to see me again.’

He gives you that lazy half-smile that makes you feel like you have a flock of butterflies in your belly.

‘Maybe I want to see you again.’

Fast forward six months and a short-lived friendship that comprised of countless dinners, movie nights, and time spent in one another’s company, and here you are, dry-humping him on your sofa.

Funny how things work out.

You knew he liked you. Knew by the way he felt comfortable enough to let himself into your apartment unannounced, the way his body eased as he sat back on your sofa, the way he looked at you with a softness in his gaze he didn’t have for anyone else. You liked him too, and you didn’t make any secret of that, teasing him, calling him sergeant in response to his affectionate nickname of ‘girlie’ that he still insisted on calling you.

But you also knew he was a broken man who was still scrabbling to piece himself together. You didn’t know everything - it wasn’t something Bucky proactively spoke about - but you weren’t stupid: you knew he used to be the infamous Winter Solider, knew he had received a pardon for his previous crimes, knew he had more than his fair share of demons to tame. A couple of your friends had questioned how sensible it was to get close to him, and to be fair, you saw their point: he was, quite literally, programmed to kill, his entire body designed for it, broad and intimidating in its size, capable of overpowering you with next to no effort if he fancied it.

He wouldn’t, though. You knew he wouldn’t. You trusted him more than he trusted himself.

Maybe that’s why, after six months of shoulder bumping, soft smiles and half-hugs, Bucky had thrown caution to the wind and had tugged you onto his lap at the start the first commercial break during whatever movie it was you’d decided to watch that night.

He’s still holding your hips, eyes still closed, trying to even out his breathing. You place gentle butterfly kisses across his forehead, carding your hands through his hair, gently running your fingernails across his scalp. He sighs in contentment and leans into your touch, his furrowed brow easing and his mouth parting slightly in bliss. He groans slightly.

‘Feels nice,’ he practically purrs. You smile and tug at his hair lightly, earning a grunt in return.

‘You doing ok there, sarg? We can stop whenever, you know.’

‘Hm.’ He scrunches up his nose in frustration. ‘I - don’t know. Don’t want to stop, but - it’s been - a really long time.’

‘How long?’ you ask softly, thinking you probably should have had this conversation before you ended up where you are this evening.

‘Uh.’ He grimaces. ‘Don’t laugh.’

‘’M not gonna laugh, Buck.’

He huffs, eyes still closed, a delicate pink in his cheeks. ‘Forties,’ he mumbles, so low you nearly miss it.

‘You know,’ you say, and wait until he cracks an eye open to look at you. ‘They say you can’t grow your virginity back, but in this instance -‘

‘You said you weren’t going to laugh,’ he protests. He smirks in retaliation as he wriggles your hips atop of him and you whine at the friction.

‘I didn’t,’ you gasp. ‘Just teased ya a little. That’s all.’

He grunts, but he stops moving your hips anyway. ‘Whatever, girlie. I used to be good at this shit, you know.’

‘Is that right,’ you rib.

‘Mmm-hmm. Didn’t have phones back then, dollface. Had to rely on previous customers to spread the good word on the street. If you know want I mean.’ He winks at you and you roll your eyes at his cocky, playboy attitude.

‘Player.’

He laughs. The colour in his cheeks has faded, and the rise and fall of his chest has slowed. ‘Maybe a bit, yeah. I was a kid, though. Just wanted to - chase skirts and have fun. Never meant no harm to anyone. Never left anyone unsatisfied, either.’

‘Bucky.’ You shove his firm chest as he gives you another wink, exaggerated his time. ‘I don’t wanna hear about your past conquests.’

‘Ah, don’t worry about ‘em. None of ‘em can hold a candle to you, anyway.’

‘Bet you use that one on all the ladies.’

He laughs, leans forward and kisses you sweetly on the lips. ‘Nah. Just one.’ He gives your hips a squeeze. ‘Thanks, girlie. Appreciate it.’

‘It’s ok, sergeant. You decided if you want to stop now?’

He lets go of one of your hips and runs his hand awkwardly through his hair. ‘I - don’t want to, but - probably - should.’

You feel an overwhelming urge to pull the big, beefy man you’re siding astride of right up close to you so you can comfort him properly. ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed, Buck.’

‘Ah.’ He shrugs, faux-nonchalant, avoiding your eye. ‘Says you. Bet you have guys falling at your feet.’

You snort inelegantly. ‘Sure, Buck. They’re lining up outside my door.’ You pause, then add: ‘It might not have been seventy-odd years for me, but it’s still been a little while. Like - nearly a year.’

‘How does a pretty thing like you don’t have any suitors for a year?’

‘Suitors. My god, Buck.’

‘Stop taking the piss,’ he huffs, and you place an apologetic kiss on his forehead.

‘I dunno. Got busy with life. Then - you know - this sexy ex-Avenger moved in across the hall and I was just smitten from day one, ya know?’

‘All right, all right. All the cheap shots.’

You laugh and kiss him, full on the mouth, and his response is adorably chaste, softly pressing his lips against yours, his tongue a gentle swipe against your lower lip, mapping out the roof of your mouth almost lovingly as he holds you to him, rubbing circles into your sides with your thumbs. He breaks it off and looks up at you shyly, a look of reverence in his eyes that makes you blush.

‘If you don’t mind, I - would like to keep going. Just - can’t promise - that I’m not going to embarrass myself.’

You giggle and kiss his lips lightly. ‘It’s not embarrassing, Buck. It’s flattering. You think I’m hot.’

‘Fuck,’ he moans, pushing his hips up into yours. ‘Fuck sweetheart, I do, I really, really do.’

A brief thought crosses your mind. This isn’t going to be a casual fling for Bucky - he’s too vulnerable, his sense of self not robust enough to shield itself from another person in this way. He hasn’t said anything and you haven’t asked him, but you know if you carry on tonight this isn’t just the long haul: this is his re-sexualisation, re-claiming that part of himself he hasn’t had a chance to take ownership of since finally starting to move on from his Winter Soldier days.

And you know what? You’re completely ok with that.

More than ok.

You roll your hips against him again, pushing against the hardness in his jeans, the friction against your lower half making you gasp. He’s already starting to pant, picking up where he left off, his head falling against the back of the sofa as he helps guide your hips, the pace quick, rough and dirty, just how you like it - and, judging by the way he’s holding you, so tightly he might bruise you, it’s just how he likes it, too.

‘You ok, baby,’ you coo, pressing yourself against him, your chest right up against his, hands back in his hair. He moans something that vaguely sounds like your name, eyes closed, and fuck he looks so pretty.

‘Sweetheart,’ he chokes. ‘I - I can’t - ‘m so close.’

‘That’s ok, baby,’ you soothe. You take his hands and encourage him to place them firmly on your behind so he can push you against him in just the way he needs. ‘That’s ok. You look so fucking pretty right now, baby.’

He’s so fucking vocal and it’s turning you on no end, helpless pants and jumbled curse words falling from his kiss-bitten lips as he holds you, grinding you firmly against his pelvis, and that - you’re not going to lie - is doing a pretty good job at helping you along to your own finish. But Bucky - it’s pretty clear to see - is much further down that road than you are, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his upper lip, and you have no intention of catching up with him: this is about him, his pleasure, the start of his re-sexualisation.

Besides, you muse, feeling dizzy at the thought: there are going to be plenty of other opportunities for you to get off with him involved.

You’re right up against his ear again, and you can hear his breath catch as he quivers on his edge, his entire body tense below you.

‘Come on - let go for me. Let go for me, sergeant.’

With your face pressed into his neck, you feel rather than see him come: feel his hips stutter, feel his hands tightening on your behind, feel the breathy groan leave his chest. You nip his neck lightly, resisting the urge to bite him firmly and leave a mark, wondering vaguely if that would embarrass him or not; resisting the urge to look up at him as he climaxes beneath you, sensing that might be too much for him, might feel too exposed, and instead you focus on maintaining the pace that he needs to ride out his high.

His hands move back to your hips and he slows you, easing your pace before bringing you to a gradual stop. You lift your head and can’t help but bite your lip as you admire the fucked-out look on his face: peaceful, relaxed, a little drunk on oxytocin. You push a few rogue strands of hair from his face.

‘Hey,’ you tease.

‘Hey,’ he says. He frowns and closes his eyes. ‘Fuck. ‘M sorry. I swear - I used to be good at this.’

‘Mmm. You said,’ you smirk playfully. He huffs and turns his head to the side, opening his eyes and looking at something far-off in your apartment.

‘Hey.’ You cup his chin in your hands and tilt his face back towards you. ‘Don’t sweat it, sergeant. You’re fucking pretty when you come.’

‘I should be saying that to you,’ he grumbles, but he doesn’t resist you when you kiss him, a reassuring press of your lips against his.

‘Imma big girl, Buck. I can take care of myself.’

‘Make me feel even better about myself, why don’t you.’

You laugh affectionately at the look of disdain on his face and run your hands through his hair until he groans and closes his eyes, leaning back into your touch.

‘Bucky?’

‘Yeah?’ he murmurs, distracted by the feel of your fingers running lightly across his scalp once more.

‘It’s ok, you know.’

He grunts. ‘Easy for you to say. I’m a one hundred year old man and I feel like a goddamn virgin all over again.’

You place a featherlight kiss on his jaw, the stubble tickling your lips. ‘And I’m flattered you chose me to be the person you lose your virginity to the second time round.’

‘Yeah?’ He opens his eyes to look at you, shy, tentative. ‘I can’t promise I’m not a little rusty, but I never had any complaints back in my day.’

‘I’m sure you’re probably better than most the guys I’ve ever slept with, sergeant.’

He closes his eyes again and groans. ‘Don’t say that name in vain.’

‘Why no- oh. Oh.’ You feel a feline smile creep across your lips as realisation hits: it’s the last word you said just before he came. ‘Bucky Barnes. You kinky fuck.’

‘Yeah, and what. Don’t tell me you don’t like it too.’ He wiggles your hips against him and you gasp, suddenly reminded of your own arousal.

‘Tease.’

‘Mmm. You want some help with that?’

You think about it for a second. You could ask for his help. You could ask him to finger you, watch you as you finger yourself, or flat out ask him to eat you out; but all three of those options sound way too intense for the patchwork man sitting underneath you, looking at you like a puppy, eager to please. You kiss him on the forehead.

‘I’m good, sarg.’

You start to climb off him but he grabs your hips and holds you in place, frowning at you.

‘That is not how this works.’

‘Oh?’ You can’t help but laugh breathlessly, a little overwhelmed by the promises that statement is loaded with. ‘How does it work then?’

‘We both get something out of this,’ he states. ‘It’s a two-way street. Not sure what kind of sex you’ve been having if you think it’s anything otherwise.’

‘Buck,’ you say. You cup his face and run your thumbs across his sandpaper jawline. ‘Just because I didn’t come doesn’t mean I didn’t get something out of it. I got to see you lookin’ all pretty just for me. Trust me: that’s good enough.’

He shakes his head. ‘You’re full of shit.’

‘Thanks,’ you say, mock-cheerful, clambering off him before he has a chance to grab at you again. ‘Go on. Go grab some other pants and come back. We got a movie to watch.’

He stares at you as you get up and walk to the kitchen, flicking the kettle on, preparing a mug for both of you. You sense his eyes watching you and turn back to face him.

‘What?’

‘Girlie,’ he says slowly. ‘I don’t - this isn’t - fuck.’ He rubs a hand across his face in frustration. ‘What I’m trying to say is - you - this isn’t - standard. For me, I mean. Like - fuck. I wanna show you exactly what you deserve.’

‘And you will.’

He blinks at you, thrown-off by your matter-of-fact tone.

‘If you think that’s the only time I’m ever going to look at that pretty orgasm face of yours, Bucky Barnes, you are sadly mistaken.’ You wave a teaspoon at him, the one you’d got out to fish out teabags with. ‘Now I’ve seen it, I wanna see it again. And again. And again. So relax.’ You smile at him reassuringly. ‘We got plenty of time to get you back up to speed, old man.’

You turn around and busy yourself making hot drinks, letting out a tiny yelp of surprise as he suddenly materialises behind you and hugs you, enveloping you in his big arms and burying his nose in your neck.

‘Thank you,’ he says, his voice muffled, a little shaky.

You hum and place your hands on top of his. ‘Looks like you’re stuck with me,’ you tease.

‘Looks like I am,’ he says, but his voice isn’t teasing, instead full of gratitude and affection that makes your heart swell.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Phone Sex

You wake up the next day to a text message from him.

Hey, girlie. Had to head out early this morning, wanted to knock and say goodbye, but didn’t want to wake you. I’ll be back in a couple of days, promise. Sorry - was kinda unexpected.

Anyway. Was thinking about taking you out for dinner when I get back. My mama did raise me to be a gentleman.

See you soon, girlie. Check in on Alpine for me? You know where the key is.

Also can’t remember if I said this last night but you look really, really fucking pretty when you’re on top of me.

I’ll stop texting you now. Is this why the kids warn about double-texting?

X

You giggle to yourself. Who knew six-foot-tall, sexy-as-fuck ex-Avengers could be so fucking cute?

Hey, sergeant. Don’t ever worry about double-texting me. Look after yourself - I’ve only got one of you. Can’t wait to be wined, dined, and royally fucked by you.

<3

You wait a few minutes and laugh when your phone buzzes again.

You’re a fucking tease, girlie.

Go have a cold shower, sarg.

Your fault. Call later?

Yes. Definitely.

<3

*****

It’s late by the time he calls and you’re curled up in bed, about to turn your light out.

‘Hey,’ he says, and you shiver at the purr in his voice. ‘Didn’t wake you, did I?’

‘No, not at all. Late one?’

He snorts. ‘Yeah. Out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere with Sam. He’s scoping somewhere out, so thought I’d hang back and give you a call.’

‘Ah,’ you say, smiling to yourself, ‘cutie. Does that mean you’re home alone?’

‘Mmm. Something like that. Would hardly call this fucking dive we’re in ‘home’, though, girlie.’

You laugh softly. ‘So,’ you say, stretching out the ‘oh’ sound. ‘What you’re saying is that you’re all alone right now.’

There’s a long, long pause.

‘Baby,’ he says, and his voice has dropped at least two octaves. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing right now,’ you murmur, sighing as you trace your fingertips up and down the inside of your ticklish thigh.

‘Hm. Why do I not believe you.’

You can’t help but giggle. ‘What would you like me to be doing, sergeant?’

‘Fuck.’ His voice is hoarse and his breathing has picked up already. ‘Baby - you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.’

‘Come on, sergeant,’ you coo, fingers toying with the tie of your sleep shorts now. ‘You can do better than that. You got me all hot and bothered. You gonna leave me this way?‘

He grunts and you hear the muffled sound of his zipper being undone, this jeans being pushed roughly down his thighs.

‘You in bed?’ he murmurs, and there’s a slight hitch in his breath, and you shudder at the thought of it being because he’s just taken himself in his hand.

‘Yeah,’ you whine, hand shoved in the front of your shorts now, and fuck you’re so wet already just at the thought of him getting hard because of you. ‘Yeah, I - I am.’

‘Fuck, baby - you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?’ His voice sounds almost pained when he says ‘touching’, stretched thin with desire and want.

‘Maybe,’ you whine, and he groans in return. ‘But you are too. I know you are. Does me touching myself get you off, Bucky?’

‘You doing fucking anything gets me off, sweetheart. Fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful darlin’. I can’t get over that you’re mine.’

You let it a whimper and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he responds.

‘You like that, baby? You like being mine? All mine and no one else’s. Fuck, baby - say you belong to me. Say it.’

‘I belong to you,’ you choke out, and part of you feels beyond embarrassed to be getting yourself off on the phone to the sound of his voice and the dirty thoughts running rampant in your mind - but a much, much bigger part of you is too turned on to care. ‘You, I belong to you, Bucky. Please.’

‘Tell me what you’re doing,’ he begs, voice throaty with arousal. ‘Tell me how you look after yourself, doll.’

‘I - I - ah, Bucky,’ you stammer, face suddenly warm at his husky tone.

‘Don’t be going shy on me, baby,’ he coos. ‘You started this.’

‘I know,’ you mutter hotly. ‘Just - didn’t expect you to commit to it so hard.’

‘Maybe shouldn’t make me so hard in the first place, girlie.’

‘Bucky.’

He chuckles, his breath catching ever-so-slightly around the edges of his laugh. ‘Come on, baby. Tell me what you’re doing with those pretty fingers. You teasing yourself with them? Imagining them being mine?’

‘Y-yeah,’ you say, finally putting the phone down next to you and putting it on speaker and use both hands on yourself. ‘Yeah, I - I am.’

‘Good. Me too. Just imaging you pushing your fingers inside your pussy and -‘

You pull a face, and you must have made a noise or changed your breathing or something, because he pauses, and asks: ‘You don’t like that?’

‘Uh,’ you mumble, thoughts slowed by the arousal still coursing through your veins. ‘I - don’t like - the actual - words. It’s a big turn-off for me. I’d rather keep it… vague. If that’s ok.’

He chuckles softly. ‘Course, girlie. Whatever works for you.’

‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Do you have any preferences when it comes to - dirty talk.’

‘Hm. Not really. I like it when you make noises in response. Genuine noises. Not - overblown, fake ones.’

‘Yeah?’ you say, your voice shaky and unstable with want.

‘Yeah.’ His breathing has picked up, and you can’t help but make an obscene noise at the thought of him stroking himself, stroking that part of him you were grinding yourself against just 24 hours ago. Was he big? He definitely felt big yesterday. Another sound escapes your throat at the thought of him inside of you, how full he would make you feel, and you hear him grunt in response.

‘Yeah,’ he praises, ‘yeah, just like that. Just - fuck, keep going, baby, keep making those noises for me, let me hear you. Let me hear you.’

‘Bu-Bucky.’ You can’t hold back any longer and rub the sensitive spot at the top of your heat frantically, shoving the fingers of your other hand roughly into yourself, and you’re so wet that they easily slide inside, and you can’t help but feel vaguely disappointed at the sensation, because you know that Bucky’s rough fingers would definitely feel better, and what about the fingers on his goddamn left hand, how would that feel inside of you -

‘Come on, baby.’ His words are punctuated by heavy pants as he builds himself to his peak. ‘Come on. ‘M getting close, baby, just thinking about being balls deep in you - fuck, bet you’re so tight and wet, tell me how tight and wet you are honey, I know you’re fucking yourself on your fingers right now, think how much better it will feel with me inside of you -‘

‘Yes yes yes - just - fuck, Bucky, come on.’ You sit up, imaging what it would feel like straddling him with him inside of you, fucking yourself down onto your fingers now. ‘Wanna come around you so, so bad, Bucky, please.’

‘Fuck, baby, ‘m so close, you get me so hard honey, fuck, come on, come for me, come for me -‘

And you do, your walls clenching around yourself, grinding yourself into your hand as that knot in your belly gives way, the sound of Bucky grunting harshly into the phone as he follows you off that edge, the thought of Bucky Barnes climaxing because of you intensifying your release tenfold, the feeling of bliss all-consuming as shudders wrack your body.

You slump over, humming in contentment at you come back down from your high, grimacing as you remove your fingers from yourself and wipe them unceremoniously on a corner of your sheets.

‘You ok, girlie,’ Bucky murmurs, sounding soft and sleepy in his post-orgasmic haze.

‘Yeah. Fuck, Bucky. You’re a dirty talking motherfucker.’

‘Hey. You started it.’

You giggle breathlessly. ‘You ever… done that before?’ you ask shyly.

‘What, phone sex? No - old man, remember?’

‘So did I just take your phone sex virginity?’

He laughs. ‘Yeah. Something like that.’

‘Mmm.’ You lay back in bed, feeling dozy on all the feel-good hormones flooding your limbs. ‘Stay on the phone?’

‘Ah. Baby. I need to… yeah.’

You feel a swell of satisfaction in your chest at the thought of you being the one who helped him to make that mess. ‘Boo.’

‘I’ll come back,’ he promises. ‘Lemme clean up. And I’ll come back.’

‘Ok,’ you say, pulling the duvet up around yourself, feeling warm and content. ‘Don’t take too long.’

‘I won’t, girlie.’

You’re almost asleep by the time he gets back, and you drift off listening to the low rumble of his voice as he tells you about his day, rough around the edges with - you know - affection for you.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Mutual Masturbation

Two days go past, and you don’t hear anything from him, and you try to ignore the disappointment brewing in your gut. He’s working. You know that. He’s out there fighting bad guys and probably hasn’t even had a chance to look at his phone, has definitely got a million more important things to do and think about, so you swallow your stupid emotions and try to carry on about your life.

You’ve just got changed into your sweatpants after a long day at work when there’s a knock at your door. You sigh, tying your hair back in a scruffy bun as you get up to answer whatever fucker is disturbing your quiet evening in.

He’s leaning against your doorframe, looking like heaven and sin combined in his black leather jacket and mussed up hair.

‘Bucky!’

You squeak and launch yourself at him; he laughs and grabs you awkwardly, cupping your face as he kisses you deeply, holding you to his warm body. You pull away and look at him as he continues to cradle your head, frowning at the gash on his cheek, the dark circles under his eyes, the yellowing bruise on the underside of his bearded jaw.

‘What the fuck, man,’ you mutter, tracing your fingers disapprovingly over his skin. He grunts and closes his eyes at the sensation.

‘Yeah,’ he grumbles, ‘everything kinda went to shit.’

‘That why I haven’t heard anything from you?’ you ask teasingly.

‘Something like that. Sorry, girlie. Didn’t mean to worry you.’

You press a chaste kiss to his soft lips. ‘It’s ok. I know you’re a big superhero busy saving the world.’

‘Yup,’ he says deadpan, ‘I’m definitely one of the good guys in all this.’

‘Stop it. You’re my good guy.’

He grins at you. ‘Can be your good guy or your bad guy, whichever you want me to be, girlie.’

You roll your eyes and he laughs, reaching down and grabbing your behind and lifting you up, causing you to yelp and wrap your arms and legs around him. He staggers a bit but maintains his balance, holding you firmly as he shoulder barges his way into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him, then carrying you into your bedroom and laying you down on the bed, his lips finding yours hungrily.

‘Look,’ he pants, coming up for air and nuzzling the side of your neck. ‘I know I said I’d take you out for dinner. I know. And I will. Promise. But - can I take you out for dinner tomorrow and fuck you tonight? Because I really, really missed you. And I really, really want you naked right now.’

‘Oh my god,’ you say, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

He grins and tugs his shoes off, kicking them off at the end of the bed before he’s back on top of you, his body pressed fully against yours, and you wrap a single leg around his waist and press firmly, getting him to roll off you so you’re both laying side-by-side, your leg still around him, your hands in his hair and his playing with the hem of your T-shirt, grazing the skin of your tummy, the heat of his right hand contrasting with the cool of his metal one. You whimper and push yourself against him, and he grunts as you find his hardness and grind yourself against him.

‘Easy, baby,’ he says, gripping your hips lightly. ‘We got time.’

‘But want you now.’

He smirks at your brattiness, and you reach for his leather jacket, unzipping it, and he sits up and shrugs it off, lobbing it onto the floor, leaving him only in his form-fitting, dark T-shirt. You swallow hard as you stare at him. Fuck. You’d definitely given him a sneaky once-over more than once before, enough to gauge that he was fucking built, but this was the first opportunity you’d had to look at him up close, albeit through a t-shirt. His six pack has its own fucking six pack.

‘You ok there, girlie?’

You find yourself blushing at his teasing tone and he chuckles, laying back down next to you, reaching for your top again. You sit up and pull it up and over your head, followed by the soft bralette you’d been wearing, wrapping your arms around yourself as you’re hit with a sudden wave of shyness. He hums softly and pulls you back down next to him, rubbing your upper arms until you let go of yourself and place them back around his neck.

‘You’re so pretty,’ he murmurs, and you wish he’d take his top off, too, but you don’t want to push, because if he hasn’t slept with anyone since the 40s, that means no one will have seen where his fake arm joins his body, and that - you already know - is going to be a big deal for him.

So instead, you let him cup your breasts with his hands, mapping the contours with his fingertips, let him kiss and nip his way down your neck and across your chest, lying half on you now, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You arch your back into him as his teeth lightly graze you, his metal hand gently pinching your other nipple, the combined sensations making you gasp and moan. He’s fully on top of you now, pushing a thigh between your legs and moving it back and forth; you feel him smirk as you rub yourself shamelessly against him, desperate for any kind of friction as he teases you shamelessly.

‘Want you,’ you beg, reaching for him, and he’s back on your neck again, sucking a hickey into your skin.

‘We got all night baby,’ he murmurs.

‘I’ve literally thought about nothing but your dick for three days straight,’ you huff. ‘I might die if I wait any longer.’

You reach for his jeans, but he catches your wrists. You look up at him in confusion; a light dusting of pink colours his cheeks.

‘I - just - let me.’

He lies next to you once more, arching his back in a way that makes you bite your lip as he undoes his trousers and pushes them down his thighs, leaving him in a pair of navy boxers. You can’t help but moan slightly as you notice a small damp patch right at the front of his underwear and you realise he’s fully hard already.

He closes his eyes briefly. ‘Don’t,’ he says, and there’s a slight strain to his voice. ‘Just - gimme a minute.’

You push his hair off his forehead and he moans lightly, leaning into your touch. His breathing is already heavy and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his upper lip.

‘Bucky,’ you murmur, your voice sounding husky even to your own ears. ‘Fuck, baby, how close are you already?’

‘Too fucking close,’ he groans. He tilts his head back, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, looking almost pained.

You bite back a moan. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already drunk on the thought of you. ‘Bucky. I want you so bad, baby.’

‘Ah. Honey - don’t.’ He bites his lip harder and blushes fiercely. ‘Fuck’s sake. I feel like I’m sixteen again.’

‘It’s ok, baby.’ You cup his face and kiss him lightly. He is, you know, touch-starved and desperate; anything you give him is bound to send him careening straight off the deep end. ‘Let’s just slow down for a bit. Ok? No pressure.’

‘Yeah. Yeah - ok. Thank you,’ he fumbles, smiling at you awkwardly. ‘Fuck. This is your fault.’

You giggle. ‘How is this my fault?’

‘You’re just -‘ He gestures up and down your semi-clothed body vaguely - ‘really fucking hot. Ok?’

You glance down at yourself, naked from the waist up, still in grey sweatpants from the waist down. ‘You must’ve got hit on the head at some point these past couple of days,’ you tease, pulling him in for a kiss.

He grunts, kisses you back chastely, bringing his hands up to your chest once again, grinning as you sigh into his mouth. ‘You good there, honey?’

‘Fucking - tease.’

‘Hm. Speak for yourself.’

You roll your eyes and lean into him, your breasts pressed up against his chest, enjoying the way his eyes go a little bit wider.

‘I like it when you call me honey.’

He groans, deep and guttural, and before you know it he’s pulling you on top of him, your heats perfectly aligned as he fists his hands in your hair and kisses you like the world depends on it, his kisses messy and frantic, his tongue desperate to explore every corner of your mouth and claim it for his own. His hands are everywhere, sliding up and down your sides, skating across your back and shoulders, before finally coming to rest on your behind, encouraging you to move against him, to grind against his bulge hard and fast, matching the franticness in both of your touches. You still have his fingers in his hair and you tug gently, relishing the way he grunts into your mouth with the sensation, and you press your chest right up against his, whimpering at the rub against your now-sensitive nipples, moaning into his mouth as every nerve-ending becomes hyper-sensitive and your whole body cries out for more from him -

‘Ahh. Baby - wait, wait wait, fuck.’

You stop as he grips your hips bruisingly, stopping you in your tracks. Beneath you, Bucky tilts his head back and moans weakly.

‘I - ah, fuck baby. I - I can’t. I’m gonna fucking finish and we’ve barely even started.’

‘Hey, hey. It’s ok, Buck. It’s ok.’ You lift your hips, shifting your weight onto your knees, and scratch his scalp in a way that makes him lean gratefully into your touch.

‘’S been a long time,’ he murmurs, his cheeks hot with embarrassment, eyes closed.

You place a light kiss against his forehead. He needs to build up. Needs to remind himself what it’s like to be touched; needs to get himself back to a point where he isn’t going to get completely overwhelmed when those pleasurable sensations start coursing through his veins with an intensity that he isn’t used to.

He needs time, he needs patience, he needs someone he can trust.

You feel almost light-headed at the thought of him choosing you as that person.

‘Hey, Buck?’

‘Hm?’ His eyes are still closed, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into your still-clothed hips.

‘Maybe we could do something else.’

His blue eyes - pupils blown wide with arousal - look up at you, and he furrows his brow in confusion. You feel yourself blush with the intensity of his gaze.

‘If me - touching you - if that’s too much, then - we could just - get ourselves off. You know. Mutual masturbation.’

He pauses, the circles on your hips slowing as he considers your proposal. ‘Yeah?’

Another kiss on his forehead. ‘Yeah. If - you want to.’

‘There’s lots of things I want to do with you, girlie.’

‘Mmm. Right back at ya, Buck.’

He grins, some of his cocksure attitude returning, he slips his hands into the top of your sweatpants, toying with the elastic of your underwear.

‘If you’re happy to, then that - that sounds good.’

‘I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.’

You climb off him awkwardly and lie back by his side, the two of you facing one another as you both kick off your lower garments and throw them to your bedroom floor. You can’t help but stare at his lower half, his T-shirt - still on, and him removing it is, you know, a conversation for another time - skimming his hipbones, his cock standing proudly erect against his lower belly, hard and weeping slightly. Male genitalia isn’t exactly pretty, in your opinion, but if there was someone’s who came damn close, it would be Bucky’s, slightly curved, the vein running proud along the underside, his pubic hair neat and trimmed. It lies flat up against his hard stomach, right up to where you guess his bellybutton is, and he’s definitely not lacking in girth, either. Fuck - it would look so good disappearing inside of you, filling you right up until you can hardly think straight with how full you feel.

‘Like what you see, girlie,’ he teases, and you feel your face heat up as you drag your gaze away.

‘Mmm. Know something, sergeant?’

He shakes his head, a slight smile on his face as he traces lines up and down your naked side.

‘You’re fucking pretty. Everywhere.’

He closes his eyes briefly and huffs out a hot breath of arousal. ‘Thanks, honey. Right back at ya.’

You hook a shin over his to give yourself a better angle and trace your hand down your tummy, feeling yourself flush as you trail closer and closer to your centre. Fuck - you’re the one who proposed this. You’re the one who needs to take him by the hand and guide him through this, and yet a rush of self-conscious embarrassment is threatening to pull you under and derail your entire plan. You clench your eyes shut, suddenly feeling painfully shy, and you feel his fingertips grazing your chin.

‘Hey,’ he whispers. ‘It’s only me.’

‘I know,’ you mumble, and when you finally open your eyes to look at him, your heart swells with the softness in his gaze. ‘Just - feels - like a lot. You know?’

‘Welcome to my world.’

You laugh breathlessly, a rush of heady courage resulting in your hand finally finding its way to that spot between your thighs, your fingers starting a slow and familiar rhythm. Bucky grunts, not breaking eye contact with you, and you know by the way his breathing hitches and the shift of his hips beside you he’s touching himself, too.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses, his eyes closing briefly before locking back into yours. ‘Fuck. One day ‘m gonna love you right, darlin’. I promise.’

You place a shaky kiss on his lips, before resting your forehead against his. ‘It’s ok, Buck. This is enough for me, for as long as you need.’

He groans and tilts his head back, his sharp pants hot against your face. ‘Uh. Fuck. Why are you so good to me.’

‘Because I’m yours,’ you tease. Seeing the way he responds to your words - obscene noises falling from his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he tries to maintain some degree of self-control - makes you feel light-headed with power, greedy for more, but you’re starting to feel breathless yourself as you start to squirm against him, coaxing that knot to build inside of you. ‘I’m all yours, sergeant.’

The grunt that escapes him is harsh and desperate all at once, his hips pushing sharply against yours. He reaches up roughly with his left hand and presses the palm lightly against your mouth.

‘’M gonna come if you keep talking like that.’

You keep your eyes locked onto his and lick his palm with your tongue, tilting your head slightly so you start out at the bottom of his wrist and end right at the top where his digits start. The metal is cool and your tongue dips into the minute grooves between plates on its journey from base to tip. He takes a sharp breath and moves his hand so two of his fingers are pressed lightly against your lips, never pushing, waiting for you and your consent. Your tongue flicks out and you tease his fingertips just as you tease yourself, probing your entrance delicately, edging yourself closer and closer to that final peak.

‘Honey,’ he says, and you shiver, because it sounds like a fucking whine and Bucky Barnes is whining with unrestrained need and want and desire all because of you.

You take his fingers in your mouth and suck, never breaking eye contact, hollowing out your cheeks as you swirl your tongue around the digits, bobbing your head lightly as you continue your torture of him. You’ve shoved your fingers fully inside of you now and you can’t help but moan: you’re fucking wet and close and all you want is to come for him, just like he wants you to, come around your fingers with his left hand in his mouth and his right hand on his dick and your name in his mouth like it’s a fucking prayer and he’ll die if he fucking stops. The babble falling from his throat is hoarse and rough around the edges with desperation: desperate for you, desperate to come, desperate to hold back until you’re there yourself.

‘Come on, pretty baby, touch yourself, touch yourself for me, show me how you look after yourself, how you fucking stuff yourself and make yourself come all over your fingers -‘

‘Fuck, honey, look how hard I am for you, that’s what you do to me, baby, you make me so hard all I can think about is you and fucking you until all you can say is my fucking name -‘

‘Can’t stop thinking about you, baby, can’t stop thinking about how much I want you, wanna bend you over and make you mine, fuck you until it’s only my name you can say and you fucking come around me and honey - fuck - fuck, please -‘

‘Bucky,’ you yelp, clenching around your fingers, and your orgasm is so intense you feel it give way the backs of your thighs, the base of your spine, the pit of your stomach. He shudders just as you do, and you moan as you feel warmth splashing against your tummy, his hips thrusting helplessly against you as he rides out his high alongside you. He groans as you both slow your movements, easing yourselves through orgasm, and when those last shivers leave your bodies he tilts his head and kisses you sweetly on the lips.

‘Thank you,’ he says, and the sincerity in his voice almost breaks you.

‘You don’t need to thank me,’ you say gently, nudging his nose with yours. He hums with gratitude and glances down at your bodies, grimacing at the rapidly-cooling liquid on your abdomen and his t-shirt.

‘Uh - sorry.’

You laugh. ‘I was expecting it.’

He grins in embarrassment and hesitates before tugging off his stained t-shirt and using it to roughly wipe at your damp skin. He unceremoniously lobs it off the bed and onto the floor, his cheeks pink as he settles back beside you, fully naked now.

‘Can I touch it?’ you ask softly.

He nods once, and you reach out and run your hand along the join of his metal arm with his upper body, a rough and bumpy seam marred by scar tissue and uneven healing. You bend down and place a single kiss on the roughest part, causing him to shiver and reach for you, pulling you into his warm chest.

‘You’re pretty all over, sergeant,’ you tell him as he holds you, tracing absent-minded lines up and down your spine.

He grunts in vague disagreement, but he drops a kiss on your head anyway.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Eating Out

You end up ordering takeaway and curling up on the sofa together, Friends reruns on TV as you eat your way through endless slices of pizza and talk about sex, sex and more sex.

‘So,’ you say casually as you help yourself to another piece of stuffed crust pizza. ‘How many girls have you slept with?’

He gives you a look. ‘You really wanna know?’

‘Hm. Maybe not. You didn’t get anyone pregnant, did you?’

He chuckles. ‘We still had condoms in the 40s, girlie.’

You wrinkle your nose. ‘What were they like?’

‘Not as good as the ones today, let’s put it that way.’

‘Hm. Stop avoiding my question, Sergeant Panty-Dropper.’

He laughs and swipes the piece of pizza right from your hand. ‘Fine. A lot, ok? I was young, and girls liked a man in uniform. I got around. But like I told you before. Never left any unsatisfied customers.’ He gives you a dirty wink and you roll your eyes.

‘It’s such a turn-on, you calling your previous conquests ‘customers’,’ you drawl. He smirks at you.

‘Well - they were queuing up for the goods.’

‘Ugh - stop it!’ you squeal, covering your ears with your hands. ‘I’m dating a fucking playboy. What is my life.’

He laughs and bumps your shoulder affectionately with his. ‘That was a lifetime ago, girlie. I’m a different person now. Got my sights on one lady and that’s that.’

You mock-huff and pout at him indignantly. ‘You better be telling me the truth, sarge.’

‘Hey,’ he says, pretending to be wounded. ‘When have I ever lied to you?’

‘Whenever you go off on one of your missions and you tell me it’s just going to be a quiet one and you end up coming back with your face busted up.’ You reach up and trace a hand across his grazed cheekbone for emphasis; he rolls his eyes.

‘That’s not lying, that’s me hoping I’m going to get an easier fucking ride than I usually do.’

‘Aw. Poor baby.’ You kiss the spot your hand was just touching and he grins at you lop-sidedly.

‘Although if you’re going to treat me like you have done this evening, maybe I want to get a lil’ roughed up.’

‘Shut up, sergeant.’

He gives your leg a squeeze. ‘So. Body count?’

‘…don’t laugh.’

‘I wouldn’t laugh at you,’ he says, his tone serious.

‘…three.’

‘Including me?’

‘Yeah. Including you.’

‘Hm. You surprise me, girlie.’

‘Yeah?’ Your face feels hot and you keep your gaze resolutely on the TV.

‘Yeah. For someone as confident as you are in bed - plus, you know. You’re hot as fuck.’

‘Shut up,’ you groan. You mock-punch his shoulder. ‘I was in a long-term relationship until a few years ago. He was my first. It sounds really stupid now but I honestly thought we were end game.’

‘That’s not stupid.’

‘You wouldn’t say that if you met him. Anyway. I was with him for ages, and then he broke up with me, and I tried to put myself back out there, you know? I hooked up with a guy from Tinder and it was just - oh my god. A disaster. I mean, he wasn’t good anyway, but all I could think about was how my ex used to do things, you know? How he used to kiss me, or whatever. I’d been with him so long, literally like eight years. It was all I knew. So…’ You trail off and shrug. ‘I didn’t try again after that.’

‘You still think that way now?’

‘No. Fuck - no, Bucky. I got myself a dildo and moved on.’

He chokes on the bite of pizza he’s just taken and thumps himself on the chest. ‘Give an old man some warning, why don’t ya.’

You laugh and headbutt his side. ‘Come on, Buck. It’s the 21st century. Girl’s gotta look after herself, you know?’

‘Stop. It,’ he grumbles, and you laugh at the semi he already has in his sweats. You sit up on your haunches and lean forward so your breath is tickling his ear.

‘What is it, sergeant? Does the thought of me touching myself get you all hard?’

He lets out a weak moan and closes his eyes, tipping his head back.

‘You know,’ you tease, enjoying your power trip. ‘I’ve definitely got off thinking about you before now.’

‘Yeah?’ he asks, his voice thick with arousal.

‘Mmm-hmm. After we met and I realised I had a hot, sexy Brooklyn boy living across the way for me.’ You shift slightly so you can press your breasts into his side, enjoying his groan in response. ‘I’d lie there at night and wonder what you’d be like in bed. Whether you’d be polite like you were when we met in the hall, shy and sweet. Or whether you’d be all rough with me, force me down on my hands and knees and take me from behind until all I could say was your fucking name. Fuck. I lost count of how many times I made myself come thinking about that.’

He curses, and the next thing you know he’s got you on your back, bearing over you, his hands on your sleep shorts and a devilish look in his eye.

‘You need a taste of your own medicine, girlie.’

You arch your back, help him to slip them off your thighs, and he presses a kiss to your lower belly, glancing up at you.

‘Do you want me to stop?’

You shake your head, your throat feeling tight with a combination of heady arousal and the thought of a young Sergeant Barnes always asking his conquests for consent, never assuming, always checking.

‘Need you to say it, honey.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ you whimper. ‘No - just - keep going, please please please.’

He huffs a hot breath of laughter against your bellybutton. ‘That’s better.’

His rough hands part your legs and he settles between them, placing butterfly kisses along the inside of your thighs, his stubble forming a delicious contrast to his soft lips. His hands - hot and cold - are on your sides, holding you lightly in place as he continues his teasing, working his way across your skin until he reaches the join of your legs and hips and he nips at the crevice lightly. You try to cant your hips towards him, desperate for his touch, but he chuckles and holds you firm.

‘Buck,’ you whine. He catches something in your voice that makes him sit back and study your face once more.

‘You ok?’

‘Y-yeah. Yeah, I - I’m all good,’ you stammer weakly.

He grunts in disapproval. ‘Don’t lie to me, girlie.’

You huff in annoyance. ‘Fine. I haven’t - done this a lot. Ok?’

His thumbs trace light circles on your hips, a cheeky half-smile on his face. ‘That’s ok, baby. You don’t need to do anything, you know. It’s all on me.’

‘I know. Just - fuck’s sake. I haven’t - shaved or showered or anything and -‘

‘Hey - hey hey, it’s ok. It’s ok.’ He reaches up and cups you face with his left hand and you lean into its coolness. ‘Got yourself a couple of hang-ups, girlie?’

‘Maybe,’ you admit, feeling hot and embarrassed. ‘Look, Buck. You don’t - have to do that if you don’t want to.’

‘I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t want to, honey.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask shakily.

Bucky frowns and sits up, and you let you a confused whine of disappointment and relief. ‘I think we should talk about this.’

‘Can we talk about it after?’ you whine. ‘Because I really, really want you to - to do that right now, but I just - I dunno, I - makes me embarrassed. Ya know?’

‘Baby,’ he says warningly, but you’re grabbing for him insistently with one hand, your other between your legs, making him groan as he watches you touch yourself, desperate for any form of relief from the fire he’s fucking started.

‘Please,’ you beg. ‘Come on, Bucky please.’

And then you go in for the kill:

‘Please, sergeant.’

He groans in defeat, batting your hand away roughly as he licks a long, firm stripe from the base of your heat and right up to the top. You moan out his name, too turned on to be embarrassed any more as his tongue - his fucking broad, skilled, masterful tongue - explores your folds, swirling around your bundle of nerves, darting out to swipe at the most sensitive spot right underneath the hood, making you gasp with the intensity of it all. He sucks at you lightly before pushing his tongue in you, his stubble coarse and delightfully rough against you as he laps at your wetness, alternating light probes with full-on thrusts, his nose nudging your clit almost tenderly. You fist your hands in his hair and feel that tightness in your gut intensify as he groans against you, the vibrations of the sound hitting all the right places, and you wish you could bottle that noise so you can play it on repeat when you want to get off: almost broken with want, fractured with desire, like if he were to die right here, right now between your legs he would die a happy man.

‘Bu-ucky,’ you choke. He lifts his head ever so slightly, bringing his right hand down and teasing your entrance with one, two fingers.

‘Yeah, honey?’ His chin glistens with a sticky combination of your wetness and his spit and it’s equal parts the most erotic and the most mortifying thing you’ve ever seen and it’s all you can go but close your eyes and moan out loud at the sight. He licks another firm stroke along your entire heat, grunting at your taste.

‘Fuck, baby. Want you to come on my tongue. Can feel you getting close, honey, can feel you getting tight.’

You make an obscene noise and turn your head away from him, desperate now, hot with arousal and shame at the way he’s treating the most intimate parts of you with absolute reverence.

‘Look at me, honey. Don’t be shy with me.’

‘Bucky.’

He chuckles softly at your whine, his hot exhales brushing your clit and prolonging your noises. ‘Don’t ever be shy with me, ok? You’re pretty everywhere, girlie. So fucking pretty. Sound so pretty, feel so pretty - fuck - taste so pretty, baby. Never gonna be able to get enough of you and how you taste, honey - so so fucking sweet.’

His fingers are in you now, pushing in and out, coaxing you closer to your edge, but not letting you topple. He laughs at your frustration, using his left arm to keep you pinned lightly in place.

‘You’re not playing fair.’

‘I told you, girlie. Don’t use that name in vain.’

And suddenly his fingers are curling deep inside of you, finding that spot that makes your back arch and nerve-endings tingle, and that combined with his tongue tracing circles on your clit is enough to make you reach your climax, leaving you a quivering mess beneath him.

He keeps up the momentum during your orgasm, prolonging the sensations of pleasure flooding your body, until you start to gasp with overstimulation and he licks at you tenderly, easing you down from your high. He lifts his head, a smug look on his face as he roughly wipes his chin on the back of his hand.

‘You ok there?’ he teases, dipping his head and nipping at your hip bone affectionately.

‘Yeah,’ you sigh. ‘Yeah, I’m really, really good. Fuck, sergeant, you might not have done that for 70 years but you definitely know what the fuck you’re doing.’

He hums and licks at the bite he’s left on your skin. ‘Thanks, girlie. Fuck. You taste really good. Did I tell you that?’

‘Maybe once or twice,’ you blush.

‘Mmm. Did I tell you you sound like a fucking kitten when you come?’

‘Bu-ucky.’

‘Wha-at,’ he says, mimicking your bratty tone.

‘Stop it.’

‘Stop what?’

‘Teasing.’

He smirks into your skin, placing chaste kisses along your hip, your abdomen, your side. ‘But I like teasing you.’

You reach for him and pull him up so he’s level with you, tasting the remnants of yourself on his tongue, his hardness pushing into your belly. He kisses you deeply before reaching up and pushing your sweaty hair off your forehead.

‘You gonna fill me in on these hang-ups now?’

‘No. ‘M gonna suck you off, though.’

He laughs, embarrassed, shifting out of your grip as you pout at him indignantly. ‘Not sure I can manage anymore tonight, girlie. Today’s been - a lot already.’

‘But - you just - did that. For me. It’s only fair.’

‘Ah. Baby.’ He lies down so he’s half on top of you, half on the sofa next to you, tilting his hips away. ‘I got more than enough satisfaction from what I just did to you. Did I tell you you sound really pretty when you come?’

‘Multiple times,’ you mumble in embarrassment. He laughs and nuzzles the side of your neck.

‘So. Hang-ups.’

‘Ugh.’ You cover your hot face and he peels your hands away insistently. ‘Bucky.’

‘Come on. You know mine. I just look at you and I basically come like a teenager.’

‘That’s different. That’s 70 years of sexual healing you’re in need of.’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘considering all you’re doing for me, maybe I can do a little for you.’

‘Fine.’ You cross your arms over your chest and pout indignantly. ‘Guys - like it - shaved, right?’

‘I mean,’ Bucky says slowly, ‘that’s personal preference.’

You roll your eyes. ‘Well - every guy I’ve ever been with prefers it that way.’

‘All two of them, you mean.’

‘Shut up. I said three including you.’

He shrugs, leaning up on one elbow so he can look down at you while you talk. ‘Doesn’t bother me, girlie. Whatever you’re happy with. Did some knucklehead say something to you?’

‘No,’ you lie. He quirks an eyebrow at you but doesn’t push.

‘Girls didn’t shave like that back in the forties, baby doll. Trust me. I had a pretty big sample group.’

‘You. Are. Disgusting.’ You give him a shove to punctuate each word, and he laughs, his firm body unyielding.

‘So next time, just sit back and enjoy it, ok? Because I am. And you should too.’

‘There’s gonna be a next time?’ you ask weakly, feeling heady at the thought of his face being back where you crave it to be.

He smirks at you, his gaze darkening.

‘Told you, baby: ‘m not gonna be able to get enough of how you taste.’

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Touch

True to his word, he takes you out to dinner the following evening, to some tiny Asian restaurant where the rice is steamed in miniature bamboo baskets and the prawns are the best things you’ve ever eaten in your life. You talk about all the normal shit you usually talk about - work, friends, films, books, Alpine - but there’s something more there in your conversation, something hiding in the small smiles you give one another, the way he reaches for your hand, the way you play footsie under the table. It makes your tummy feel warm and your heart feel big in your chest.

‘Do you wanna skip dessert?’ you ask quietly as your mains get cleared away.

‘Fuck,’ he says, giving you a lop-sided smile. ‘You read my mind.’

You barely make it back to his apartment before he has you pinned up against the wall, his tongue in your mouth and his hands cradling your head as he claims you for his own.

You shove his suit jacket from his shoulders and he lets go of your face so he can shake it off, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor as he does the same to your dress, leaving you standing there in your underwear and heels. He latches onto your neck and bites that sensitive spot right below your ear, pushing his thigh between your legs and running his hands over the front of your bra, thumbing where he knows your nipples are. You arch your back and huff as you tug at his shirt.

‘This is not fair,’ you manage. He chuckles and helps you fumble for his buttons, rolling his eyes as Alpine takes this moment to come strolling up to the pair of you, wrapping herself around Bucky’s legs.

‘Alpine,’ he sighs. He squats down beside her and gives her a stroke behind her ears. ‘Little lady, I’ve brought a hot girl home with me - can you give us some space? Promise I’ll give ya extra biscuits if you do.’

You giggle at the way Alpine sits down next to him, purring at his touch.

‘Don’t think she wants a new mama.’

‘Hm. Don’t think she does.’ He grins up at you, his eyes full of affection for you. ‘Bedroom?’

‘Yes,’ you nod. ‘Definitely.’

He drags you down the hallway and to his room, a mirror image of yours across the way, only simpler, bare and plain: Bucky isn’t one for possessions and you wonder how much of that is down to anxiety of losing it all again. He guides you to his bed and pushes you down gently, kneeling down between your thighs and unbuckling your heels before pulling his own shoes and clothes off, leaving him standing before you in just his boxers. You sit up and kiss along the line of raised flesh where his shoulder joins his body, gentle presses of your lips to his skin, and he moans weakly, placing his hands on your own shoulders as you make your way up to his collarbone.

‘I have something I want to try,’ you murmur. You place a kiss at the hollow of his neck and he grunts in response, making you grin. You start to move back down his chest but he stops you, catching you lightly.

‘Uh,’ he says, smiling in embarrassment. ‘Look, I - it’s not - I really, really want you to do that, but - can we - can we build up to it?’

You giggle and sit up on your knees so you can kiss his lips. ‘Why, sergeant? Scared you’re gonna spunk your load right down my throat?’

‘I’m definitely going to spunk my fucking load if you keep talking like that,’ he grumbles.

You laugh and kiss his forehead, pulling him down on the bed beside you, and between yourselves you peel each other’s underwear off until you’re both completely naked and hot and desperate for the other person’s touch. You trail your hands along his chest and look up at him shyly.

‘Can I touch you?’

He exhales sharply, like you’ve knocked the air out of him. ‘Yeah. Yeah, you - you can definitely touch me.’

‘You got any lube?’

‘Uh - yeah. Hang on.’

He fumbles awkwardly, fishing in his bedside drawer for a bottle, handing it to you gingerly. You uncap the bottle and squeeze a generous amount of the silky liquid in your hand, warming it in your palm, before trailing it down between his legs.

‘Ah.’ He closes his eyes briefly, tipping his head back as your fingers wrap around his head. ‘Honey.’

You press a kiss to his Adam’s apple before returning to your - quite literal - task at hand. He’s big - bigger than anyone you’ve slept with before - and you concentrate on his head to start with, pushing the foreskin back to expose the bulbous red tip, weeping slightly with precum. It’s sensitive, you know, and his whole dick twitches as you trace your fingers over him, trying to get him used to your touch without overwhelming him. You glance up at him: his eyes are closed but his expression his calm and his breathing measured, his hands light on your hips as you continue your exploration.

‘You ok, baby,’ you coo, and you slide your hand up and down his entire length, shivering at his groan and the squeeze of his fingers on your hips.

‘God, baby. Fuck - please.’

‘What do you like,’ you whisper. He grunts inelegantly, brow furrowing as he tries to formulate words amid your hand continuing to pump him up and down.

‘Feels good whatever you do.’

‘How do you do it? Show me, sergeant.’

It’s like an involuntary response, the way he responds to that word: a sharp intake of breath, a sudden cant of his hips. He reaches down with a shaky hand and places it over the top of yours, showing you the rhythm he likes, the sensation he prefers: fast and tight on the way down, slow and loose on the way up. It feels intensely intimate, the way he holds his hand over yours as you stroke him, and the little stutters of hot breath and broken words he lets out make you feel uncomfortably wet between your thighs.

‘Baby. Honey. Fuck.’ He’s thrusting lightly into your hand now, fractured praises falling consistently from his lips, words you recognise as edging him closer and closer to his peak. You love how talkative he gets during sex, usually so reserved outside of the bedroom, the words escaping from him without conscious thought as pleasure overtakes any inhibitions he might have.

‘Come on, baby,’ you whisper, and he moans at the term of endearment, his hands tightening on your hips, his cheeks pink and a line of sweat forming on his hairline. ‘Look at you. You wanna come, baby? You wanna come in my hand?’

‘Ah,’ he yelps, ‘yes, yes I do, fuck, please - please sugar, wanna come so bad.’

Sugar. Fuck, that’s a new one, and it makes you feel warm right in the centre of your gut.

‘I know you do, baby,’ you coo. You pick up your pace and he practically whimpers, sliding his hands up to your face and kissing you messily. ‘Look at you. So hard, all for me. You wanna come baby? Think how much better it would feel to come inside of me.’

‘Ah - fuck - ‘m so close,’ he cries out, arching his back as he tries to push himself closer to you. You reach down with your other hand and cup his balls lightly, trying to gauge his reaction.

‘Is this ok,’ you murmur.

‘Yes - yes - fuck - please, don’t stop, you’re so good to me, so good to me, baby. Please, I - I’m so close, so fucking close.’

He sounds so needy, and the unquestioned power you have over this fucking built six-foot man makes you feel light-headed, his unrestrained noises making you rub your thighs together, wanting any kind of friction, any relief from the throbbing between your legs. You keep your eyes on him as you move your other hand slightly lower, rubbing that tight stretch of skin behind his balls.

He moans out loud, his loudest one yet, thrusting desperately into your hand as he comes, the liquid warm against the underside of your breasts. He can’t stop saying your name, his face screwed up in pure ecstasy, mouth hanging open and eyes shut as he rides out his bliss, his noises tapering off in line with the movement of his hips. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, looking dazed.

‘Fucking - Jesus - fuck.’

‘You ok there, sergeant,’ you giggle.

He takes you by surprise by enveloping you in his big arms and rolling over so you’re lying beneath him, squealing at the sudden change in position.

‘Fuck. Fuck. What did I do to deserve you. What did I do?’

His mouth is on your breasts and he doesn’t let you respond as he nips at your flesh, licking softly when he bites just a bit too hard.

‘Bucky,’ you groan. ‘’M all sticky.’

‘Don’t give a fuck,’ he grunts, and suddenly his mouth is a lot further south and suddenly you don’t care that you’re all sticky, either.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Sexting

He has to go away again to save the world once more, and this time it’s for a full-on week, which feels like an absolute lifetime.

He keeps in touch with you, texting you every day, and when you wake up for a wee in the dead of night on day three and check your phone, you see he’s active, so you give him a call.

‘You should be sleeping,’ he murmurs.

‘As should you. I needed a wee; what’s your excuse.’

‘Hm. Just a lil’ bit of PTSD. No biggie,’ he adds dryly.

‘Good. Thought I was going to have to comfort you for a moment there.’

He chuckles softly. ‘Can you - stay on the phone for a bit? I like the sound of your voice. It’s - relaxing.’

His request almost breaks your heart with its sweetness, and even though you’ve only really been seeing each other a short amount of time, you know you’re already falling for this ridiculous, sarcastic, stoic motherfucker with a habit of overthinking.

‘Course, sergeant. Of course I will.’

It’s day six when you decide to try your luck.

It’s early, too fucking early, just shy of 5:30am. You’ve woken up from a dream where Bucky’s head was between your legs, eating you like a five course fucking meal, and you’re goddamn soaked at the thought. You throw your head back into the pillow and groan. Where was your sexy ex-Avenger when you needed him?

You reach for your phone and load up your messaging app.

Bucky Barnes is online.

Praise the fucking lord.

You try to call him, huffing when he declines.

Sorry, girlie. Sleeping on Sam’s sister’s couch. Not sure she’d appreciate me waking her up at this hour.

What are you doing on Sam’s sister’s couch?

Do I detect a hint of jealousy there, girlie?

You pout indignantly and throw your phone on the bed beside you, waiting until it buzzes three times before finally giving in.

Come on, baby doll. You know I’ve only got eyes for you.

Baby?

Ah, come on, sugar. Don’t play with me.

I’ll play with you all I want.

And don’t call me sugar.

What’s wrong with sugar? It’s sweet.

Like you.

You rub your thighs together and groan to yourself. Not helping.

You weren’t complaining when I called you sugar the other day.

Mmm. That was different.

How was it different?

Well - you were here, for starters. Here and naked.

And second of all, I didn’t have to finger myself after you said it last time.

There’s a long, long pause. Bucky’s status changes three times from ‘online’ to ‘Bucky Barnes is typing’ before you finally receive anything from him.

Fuck.

Is that what you’re doing right now?

Touching yourself?

Fuck’s sake. Texting and wanking is not the easiest combo. You reach for your bedside drawer, glancing at your phone as it buzzes again.

Don’t leave me hanging, girlie.

What? You won’t call me but you’ll get yourself off on Sarah’s sofa instead? You’re a confusing man, Sergeant Barnes.

And you’re an absolute fucking tease.

Tell me what you’re doing right now.

You yank your shorts off, sit on your knees, lube up the toy you had stashed away, flicking it on its lowest setting.

What will you do if I don’t tell you?

Get the first fucking flight home so I can find out.

‘Bucky,’ you gasp as you sink down onto your toy. Whoever invented the infamous rabbit was a fucking genius, and you reach for your phone with shaky fingers.

Where’d you go, girlie? Too much for ya already?

I’m here.

Was just getting myself a helping hand.

Another pause.

What does your helping hand look like?

You laugh breathlessly, unable to help your crude response.

Looks like a dildo, Buck.

His responses are quick, rapid, and you try to imagine his heady groans in your ear as you work yourself higher and higher.

Fuck baby, fuck.

I can’t stop thinking about you fucking yourself on your toy.

Know you’re saying my name. Keep saying it baby, what it to be in your mouth when you come.

What you thinking about, honey? You thinking about me? Thinking about my head between your legs, kissing you where you want me most?

‘Ah,’ you moan, fingers shaking, ‘fuck’s sake, Bucky.’

You thinking about you and your fingers

Inside me

Filling me up

Fuck

I can do that to you, sugar

I can fill you right up until you feel it deep in your gut

Tell me you’re close baby

‘’M so close,’ you whine pathetically to your empty room, working your hips frantically as you fumble with the switch on your vibrator and dial it up once, twice, the thought of it being Bucky and Bucky filling you up and Bucky finishing in you causing you to clench and shudder as you come.

You check your phone as you come down from your high. No new messages. You smirk and flop down on the bed, the dildo discarded on the sheets beside you, and your breathing is almost normal once more when your phone vibrates.

Haven’t heard anything from you for a few minutes. You ok?

More than ok. If you get what I mean.

What about you?

So… don’t tell Sam what I did on his sister’s couch.

You laugh out loud, equal parts embarrassed and turned on at his shamelessness.

You sick fuck, Bucky Barnes.

You started it.

And seeing as you’re away, I finished it too.

Very funny.

Can I ask you something?

Hurry up. I really need a shower.

Sexy.

Can I blow you when you get back?

If that’s ok?

There’s no response, no ‘Bucky Barnes is typing’, no acknowledgement of your message. You chew your bottom lip anxiously. Did you push it too far? Does he not like oral? All men like oral - right? Unless he’s the one man in the whole world who doesn’t. You groan at your overthinking and close your eyes until he responds a few minutes later.

I just came and you’ve got me hard again already.

You burst out laughing. Asshole.

Guess you’re just gonna have to get your sweet ass home ASAP, aren’t you?

Guess I am.

I better go have a cold shower, girlie. Don’t wanna scare the kids.

Mmm. Your dick is a fucking monster that’s for sure.

Shucks. Thanks, baby. All for you, ya know.

There’s a pause, then:

I’ll be back in two days.

And I’d better find you naked in my bed when I get home.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Blowjobs, Part One

You’re not quite naked in his bed when you get back, but you’re only wearing his t-shirt and nothing else, which - when he realises just how naked you really are - causes Bucky to tug you insistently so you’re this close to sitting on his face. You blush fiercely, embarrassed, until his love-drunk, dirty mumblings convince you to let your weight drop on him and grind into his face until his tongue has brought you to a blissful release.

He lifts your boneless form off him and rolls you over, resting his head on your tummy and grinning at you slyly.

‘You,’ you pant, ‘are unbelievable.’

He pretends to straighten out the t-shirt you’re still wearing. ‘How’m I supposed to resist you when you’re wearing my clothes, girlie?’

‘You could at least wait long enough for us to take our clothes off,’ you say, pouting at his fully-dressed form.

He laughs and sits up, and you do too, reaching for his t-shirt and peeling it off his body, running your fingers across the hard planes of his chest, making him shiver against you. You reach up and bite him at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, smirking at his breathy chuckle.

‘Tickles.’

‘Yeah? Good tickles or bad tickles?’ you ask, moving up so your words go directly into his ear.

‘Could take it or leave it tickles.’

‘Fair. What else you not bothered about?’ You run your hands over his shoulders and up and down his biceps, admiring the difference in sensation between the two: both muscular and solid, but one warm and human, the other cool and robotic.

‘Uh. I don’t know - can you just try them all and I’ll - tell you?’

He likes the way you’re stroking his arms; you know that by the way his eyes are closed now and his nose is scrunched up slightly. You hum and ghost your hands down his flat stomach to the button on his jeans.

‘Course you can, sarg.’

You undo his trousers and he pushes them down his thighs, laying down on his back as you tug them off the rest of the way, dropping them onto the floor. You re-settle yourself between his legs and he groans at the sight, arching his back slightly, a delicious sheen of sweat already settling in the dips of his abs.

‘You have to tell me if this is too much,’ you murmur.

‘Everything you do feels like too much,’ he grumbles, but his left hand reaches for you and he runs his thumb across your lower lip. You tilt your head and take the digit into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you suck, maintaining eye contact with him.

‘Fuck.’

He looks dazed, halfway there already, eyes lidded with lust and mouth slightly open. You let his thumb fall out of your mouth with a pop before placing a kiss right in the centre of his sternum, leaving a trail as you work your way across his toned stomach until you reach the elastic of his boxers, and you giggle at the the speed with which he lifts his hips, shuffling to help you tug them his thighs. His cock, full and hard, twitches against his abdomen, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Fuck, you think. He’s so pretty.

He practically whines as you kiss his abdomen, deliberately avoiding the obvious area that’s begging for your attention, before leaning into his right thigh and biting a little too hard an inch or two down his leg, right on the soft, sensitive inside. He gasps and cants his hips in response, grunting out your name.

‘That - felt good,’ he stammers.

‘Yeah?’ You place a kiss on the same area. ‘You want me to do it again?’

He reaches absent-mindedly for his dick. ‘Uh-huh.’

You place your hands on his thighs and spread him slightly wider, before sinking your teeth into his flesh once more, firm enough to make it sting, soft enough so it doesn’t hurt. It’s probably one of his few soft, vulnerable parts left, the majority of his body solid muscle; his skin smells clean, vaguely like cedar and pine and other forest smells; dark hair adorns this thick thighs, the hair tidy and neat between his legs. You bite him again, closer to where his thigh joins his hip, and he gasps out your name.

‘Can you do that thing again?’ he pants, sounding vaguely embarrassed at his request.

‘What thing?’

‘With your hand. That you did - before.’

The pieces fall into place and you give his balls a gentle squeeze as you rub at the stretch of skin just behind them.

‘Like that?’

His answering whimper is high-pitched and sounds vaguely like your name as he works his hand faster one himself, muffled pants escaping from his throat. Fuck. You stare at his cock, stare at the way he strokes himself shamelessly, and you bat his hand away, kneeling forward and licking him from base to tip. His musky scent makes you feel light-headed with arousal, the tip ever-so-slightly salty.

You haven’t had sex enough times yet to identify the signs, so you miss every single one of them: the way he tips his head back into the pillow, his throat vulnerable and exposed. The way his hips give a stutter-y thrust once, twice, overwhelmed by the sensation of his impending orgasm. The way he calls you every nickname under the sun as you run your tongue along the underside of him, still rubbing his perineum, and suddenly there’s hot wetness against your cheek and it’s all you can do but watch as he reaches back down and jerks himself off frantically, painting his chest with white, still rubbing, nipping firmly at his thighs until he taps your forehead. You sit up and look at him; he’s grinning at you sheepishly.

‘Uh,’ he says. ‘That isn’t how I thought things would go.’

You giggle, wiping the cum from your cheek. ‘How did you think it would go, mister Barnes?’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘I thought there would be more of my dick in your mouth and less - other stuff. Not that I’m complaining. Just - fuck. You are just - fuck.’

You sit up beside him and kiss him deeply, and he reaches up and cups your face.

‘’M glad you think so,’ you tease. You nod down to his lower half. ‘You like it when I touch you down there?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, colouring a healthy shade of pink. ‘Yeah, I - I do. If that’s - ok.’

‘I’d tell you if it wasn’t.’

‘Ok. Fuck, girlie. Fuck.’ He stares down at the mess on his chest, then back up at you. ‘So - uh - at the risk of sounding greedy - can we try that again soon, but this time with me actually in your mouth?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Maybe if you say please.’

‘I can say more than that, baby girl.’

‘Fuck’s sake. Come on, sergeant dirty talker. Shower time.’

‘If you insist,’ he says, a cheeky smile on his face as he follows you to the bathroom, and you should have guessed he’d use it as an opportunity to shove you against the wall and finger you until you orgasm under the hot stream of water rushing down on you both.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

Blowjobs, Part 2

It’s the weekend, and a rainy one at that, and you introduce Bucky to the concept of spending wet Saturdays mornings in bed, curled up together as you watch YouTube skits and comedy sketches on your laptop. You order takeout breakfast from some fast food place, which makes him roll his eyes at your utter laziness, and when Alpine shows up, you encourage her to curl up between you both, purring at the warmth you bring her. Bucky stares down at the white cat as she settles, an indecipherable look on his face.

‘You ok, Buck?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Just - I - this is really - nice.’

‘Yeah?’ You feel your heart swell at the thought of you being the one he wants to share his wet Saturday mornings with from now until forever. You give his shoulder a teasing nudge. ‘Been a while since you did this kind of thing?’

He shrugs. ‘Dunno if I’ve ever done this kind of thing.’

‘O-oh.’

He gives you a lop-sided grin, looking a little sheepish. ‘Sorry. Too much?’

‘No,’ you say, your voice sounding shaky with affection even to your own ears. ‘No - not at all.’

*****

When you kneel down on the floor later that day and take him fully in your mouth, Bucky fists his hands in the sheets and moans your name so loud you suspect your neighbours probably hear, and you can’t even bring yourself to care.

It’d been a slow, lazy build-up to that point. You’d spent all day lounging in bed together, you in just his t-shirt, him in a pair of pants slung dangerously low on his hips. The touches you’d given each other hadn’t been sexual, but affectionate: the way he looped an arm around your waist, keeping you firmly pressed against his warm side; the way you rested your head on his chest, in that little nook where his metal shoulder met his chest; the way your bare legs had tangled together as you lay beneath the sheets, talking about your past fears, your future dreams, your present hopes. He would reach and touch every part of you he could, whether that was the small of your back, the dip between your collarbones, the dimples on your knee; he was, you knew from his intent gaze, mapping you out, finding what each and every point did, whether it brought you pleasure, reassured you, made you hum with some other emotion. It was only a matter of time before he found one that sent you right into the deep end, and that innocent serenity was broken, and his tongue was plunging down your throat like he intended to claim you solely for himself, and inevitably kisses had turned into touches had turned into groans had turned into you being in your current predicament, his pretty cock twitching in front of you.

He tries to reach for you, but you bat his hands away and position them firmly on the bed beside him. If he was going to last - if you were going to give him the blowjob you envisioned as being the next part of his re-sexualisation - he couldn’t touch you, not yet, not without sending his touch-starved nerve endings into overload, and it wasn’t time for that.

Not yet, anyway.

‘No hands, sergeant,’ you murmur. ‘Not yet.’

‘Honey,’ he groans, ‘you’re killing me.’

‘Good. Now sit back and enjoy.’

You start slow, teasing him, not going in for the kill just yet, instead decorating his thighs with hickeys, before reaching up and lavishing attention on his pink nipples, and you’re not sure if it’s the scrape of your teeth on his chest or the feel of his dick sliding against your chest that makes him moan weakly, so you keep up both actions, pinching his right nipple as your left one nudges his dick and keeps it between your breasts.

‘Honey,’ he pleads.

‘What is it, sergeant? Where you want me?’

‘You know where I want you,’ he scowls. ‘If you keep that up I’m gonna be done in no time.’

You giggle. ‘We can’t have that, sarg.’

You surprise him, then, by pulling away, repositioning yourself, and taking as much of him as you can in your mouth.

The broken form of your name echoes in his room as he hits the back of your throat. Fuck - it’s been a long time since you’ve done this, and Bucky is definitely not on the small side, so you try that trick you read about in Cosmo or whatever the fuck it was where you curl your left hand into a fist, gripping your thumb, and hope for the best, trying to calm your gag reflex. You hollow your cheeks on the way back up and focus solely on his swollen head, suckling lightly, swirling your tongue around the tip before swiping it up his slit. The guttural groan he gives is all you need to spur you on, and you scrabble inelegantly for the bottle of lube in your lap, popping it open and squirting a generous amount on your right hand before wrapping it around the base of his cock and moving it in sync with your mouth.

‘Sugar,’ Bucky moans, and his hands are in your hair and nudging you gently into the rhythm he likes.

You try to relax your jaw to accommodate his size and bob your head up and down his length, using your right hand to rub what you can’t take, your left scratching light lines up his inner thigh that make him gasp and groan. He’s so responsive: touch-starved and sensitive, every sensation amplified ten-fold by deprivation and deep-set affection for you and only you. The noises that escape from him make you wet: his heavy pants, his breathy moans, his desperate pleas for you to keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop, baby, honey, sugar, please. Your jaw aches and your eyes are watering; you pull away to give yourself a break and focus solely on his tip again, responding to his minute tells and twitches as you find his sensitive spots, especially the one right on the underside of his head, your right hand squelching up and down his soaked shaft naughtily, your other hand trailing downwards to that spot he just can’t fucking resist.

‘Close - baby - ‘m so close,’ he cries out, and he can’t hold back any more - he’s fisting his hands in your hair, keeping you in place as he thrusts lightly up into your mouth, and you moan around him and he’s gone, your name disjointed in his mouth as he loses himself to ecstasy, coming hot and fast down your throat.

You let him keep you in place until he’s finished, whimpering with sensitivity, calling you ‘baby’ over and over as he comes down from cloud nine. You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, swallowing the last salty remnants of him. The blissful, fucked-out look on his face is definitely worth the dull ache you feel in your jaw.

‘You ok, sarg?’ You climb up his body and sit astride his broad hips, avoiding his softening dick.

‘Uh-huh.’ His eyes are closed and he looks almost high on endorphins. ‘’M good. More’n good. Fuckin’ - ‘mazin’.’

You giggle at his slurred speech and you curl forward, placing butterfly kisses across his face. He sighs and turns his head towards you, kissing you lazily, barely putting any effort into the press of his lips.

‘You’re so pretty, Bucky Barnes,’ you murmur affectionately.

An indolent half-smile. ‘’N you look real pretty with my cock in your mouth.’

‘You would say that.’

He hums, low and deep, the vibration thrumming through your body. You reach out and run your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp just the way he likes it, watching him bask in the afterglow of his orgasm.

‘Think you broke me,’ he says after a few quiet moments. He opens his eyes, all soft and gentle, sighing as you continue to tease his hair.

‘That was my goal.’

‘Mmm. Mission accomplished.’ He places his hands on your hips and rubs circles into your hips with his thumbs. ‘You ready for me to return the favour?’

‘’M not expecting anything, Buck,’ you say, not unkindly. ‘This was about you.’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘But I told you. Sex is a two-way street for me. For us.’

You chew your lower lip. You are feeling pretty wet.

‘You know what you could do?’ he asks, his voice low and rough, a devilish smirk on his face.

‘What?’

‘Show me that toy you used the other day.’

‘Yeah?’ You look at him shyly.

‘Yeah. I mean - we didn’t have things like that - back in the 40s. So…’ He trails off awkwardly, an embarrassed smile on his face.

‘So what you’re saying is that you’re a kinky fuck who would like to see me get myself off in ways your old-school brain can’t even comprehend,’ you tease.

‘Ah,’ he says. His face is red and he laughs self-consciously. ‘Maybe.’

‘Well.’ You lean forward and brush your lips against his. ‘Maybe we should wait until you’re ready to participate again before I dig them out.’

‘Yeah,’ he stammers. ‘Yeah, that would be - good.’

You giggle, and you’re don’t stop giggling until he hoists you up and plants you on his face, his tongue plunging deep inside of you.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Toys

On Sunday, the sun comes out, and you drag Bucky out to the local park, much to his grumpy disapproval. You lay out a blanket under some dappled shade in a discreet corner of the park and stretch out with an ice cream and a book, watching Bucky out of the corner of your eye. He’s thumbing a book he’s pinched from your shelf - something fantasy that you got second-hand because the cover tickled your fancy - but he’s busy people-watching, his stoic gaze flicking across the other park-goers. You sit up and reach for his hand - his left one - but he flinched away sharply.

‘Hey,’ you say, trying to disguise your hurt. ‘It’s just me.’

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles. He tries to reach for you again but you busy yourself with your ice cream and pretend not to notice. ‘Just - it’s a lot. Didn’t mean to act like a dick.’

‘Yeah, well,’ you say stubbornly. ‘You did.’

There’s a long, awkward silence. Bucky sighs heavily and lies back on the blanket beside you, head tilted in your direction as he watches you pretend to read. You shiver as you feel his left hand trailing up and down your back, able to feel the coolness of the metal through your thin tank top.

‘How’s your book?’ he teases.

You roll your eyes. ‘It’s good, thank you.’

‘Yeah?’ He’s pushing his knuckles into the small of your back, right where you like it, easing that tightness you carry in there.

‘Mmm-hmm.’

He keeps trying, but he underestimates your commitment to your cause, and after a few minutes he ends up sighing and resting his hand in the middle of your shoulder blades.

‘’M sorry.’

You close your book and turn to look at him, sitting cross-legged beside him. You hook your pinkie in his.

‘I’m not ashamed of you.’

He grunts and stares up at the tree above you both.

‘Sometimes I think you should be.’

You let out a huff of frustration. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say to that.’

He blinks at you in surprise and you carry on, feeling your face heat up.

‘I mean - you’re one of the kindest, sweetest men I’ve ever met. A little sarcastic sometimes, but we all have our faults, right? You’d never hurt me or mistreat me. You look at me like I’m the most incredible woman you’ve ever met in your life. Why would I not want to be seen with you?’

He stares back up at the tree, an angry line appearing between his eyes, his jaw clenched.

‘You don’t know the half of what I’ve done.’

You lie down on your stomach beside him so you can look at his face.

‘So tell me.’

He closes his eyes.

He does.

You don’t change your mind.

*****

Chaste kisses before you both curl up and go to sleep that night turn into not so chaste kisses, and before you know it he’s got you naked and pinned beneath him, his hardness pushing insistently into your hip.

‘Show me,’ he pants into your neck as he nips and sucks at the sensitive point right below your ear. ‘Show me how you use your toys.’

You let out a moan at his desperation. ‘Have you been thinking about this since yesterday, sergeant Barnes?’ you tease.

He bites your neck shamelessly, and you wince at the sudden sting, humming as he licks the spot and makes hushing noises into your skin.

‘And what if I have? Can’t I fantasise about my girl doing kinky shit?’

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your throat. ‘Your girl? Is that 1940s code for your girlfriend?’

He places a deep kiss on your lips, and when he pulls away, he looks love-drunk.

‘Yeah. Yeah it is.’

Your tummy is full of butterflies as you nudge him off you and sit up, returning his intense kiss. ‘Think I can work with that.’

His left hand holds your hip firmly as his human hand traces down your stomach, skating down your abdomen and sliding his fingers across your folds, deliberately missing your needy clit as his fingers form a teasing ‘v’ shape on either side. You whine in want and frustration, trying to grind into his hand, but he keeps his touches feather-light, refusing to quicken his pace.

‘Bucky.’ You place your hands on his shoulders, still raised on your haunches, resting your hot forehead against his cool left one as he continues his ministrations. There’s an intense throbbing between your legs that you know only his fingers - his tongue - his dick - can relieve, and you know he knows that, knows he enjoys reducing you to a quivering mess incapable of thinking of anything but release.

‘Show me, baby,’ he murmurs when your breathing has picked up and you start whimpering weakly. ‘Show me.’

You push yourself off him and scrabble inelegantly in your bedside drawer, pulling out a tube of lube along with your three toys, holding them up for him to see, only vaguely embarrassed by the way his cheeks colour and his pupils blow just a touch wider.

‘Which one?’ you whisper.

He reaches out and lightly touches each one, the bullet, the rabbit, the plug.

‘I have no idea what they do.’

You giggle. ‘This one, then.’ You keep hold of your trusty bullet as you stash the other two away for another night of sexual escapades with your six-foot, one-armed boyfriend. You hold it up to him and give it a click, watching him frown and cock his head as it hums in your hand.

‘That’s… huh. Ok.’ He reaches out and touches it gingerly, smiling up at you lewdly. ‘Thought you’d spare me the embarrassment of the big toy huh.’

‘Fishing for compliments, sergeant?’

A half-smile. ‘Only a little.’

He takes the bullet from you, and you show him how he can change the vibrations by clicking the button and cycling through the options, studying it curiously. He gives you a sly look before he reaches out and places it against your nipple; the buzzing creates a pleasant sensation across your sensitive skin and you gasp, leaning into it, both of you still sitting up on your thighs facing one another.

‘That’s not where I would use it,’ you manage after a few minutes, during which time he starts to use his left hand to pinch your other nipple.

‘No?’ he murmurs. ‘’M still learning, I guess.’

He smirks at you teasingly, sliding it lightly down your stomach, resting it right on the expanse of belly above your clit on its lowest setting. You jerk your hips impatiently towards him; he wraps his metal arm loosely around your waist, keeping you still and upright. You glance down at him; he’s hard, upright and erect, and fuck the sight of him wanting you so much is enough to make you feel like you’re fucking dripping between your thighs.

‘Want you,’ you breathe. You can’t tear your eyes away from his hardness and how good it would feel to be inside of you. ‘Want you so much. Please, please let’s have sex, Bucky, please.’

He curses and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You feel a squirm of guilt in your belly. You shouldn’t have begged him, shouldn’t have pleaded him to do something he’s not quite ready for, but you can’t help it: what are you supposed to do when he’s sitting naked in front of you, naked and warm and hard, all because of you?

You rest your hand on his firm hips and squeeze. ‘I’m sorry,’ you say quickly. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t -‘

‘It’s ok, honey.’ He lifts his head and places a messy kiss on your lips, his breathing deep and heavy. ‘It’s ok.’

It’s getting hard to breathe in here and all your guilt and inhibitions are suddenly out the fucking window, broken and forgotten about at the sound of those three little words. You try to cant your hips towards him as the vibrator continues to buzz against your skin, but he holds you firm, his forehead resting against yours.

‘Then - please,’ you beg. ‘Please. Please fuck me, I want you in me so, so bad, please - all I want is your dick inside of me, fuck everything else, just your dick -‘

He kisses you desperately, and suddenly the vibrations aren’t on your abdomen any more, they’re on your clit, and he taps the button to turn it up to its most intense setting. His mouth, hot and wet, is at your ear, whispering dirty nothings as he moves the bullet in a slow, circular motion, adjusting the pressure accordingly to the hiccups in your breathing and the squirm of your hips.

‘’M gonna love you right one day,’ he pants, ‘’m gonna love you so right, baby, I promise, I promise honey, never wanna let you go, you’re so good to me, so fucking good to me -‘

‘Bucky - I need more,’ you choke out. The buzzing on your most sensitive parts is almost unbearable; your thighs shake with repeated clenching and unclenching, chasing you higher and higher to a peak you know you’re not going to be able to reach like this, it isn’t enough - it isn’t enough.

‘Got you baby,’ he soothes, ‘it’s ok.’

He lets go of your waist, nudging your hands around his shoulders to keep you upright, then reaches down to take the bullet in his left hand, but your whine makes him stop.

‘Left hand,’ you plead, ‘left hand, just put your fingers in me, please, Bucky, need you so bad -‘

He groans out loud, dipping his hand lower, the metal blissfully cool on your overheated skin as he teases your entrance.

‘Is this what you want?’

You try to grind down on his hand as you cry out incoherently at his teasing, his fingers dipping in and out, in and out, barely touching you.

‘Baby - you have to tell me,’ Bucky grunts, his teeth gritted. ‘You have to tell me if this is what you want.’

‘I want you,’ you babble, desperate now, teetering on the brink of ecstasy and needing just a tiny, tiny bit more. ‘You, I want your dick in me please, Bucky, come on -‘

You throw your head back and gasp as he pushes two fingers into you, stretching you, and fuck if that’s the way his metal fingers fill you you can only imagine what his dick’s going to feel like inside of you, filling you perfectly like he was fucking made to do this, the metal blissfully hard inside of you as his digits curl to find that sensitive spot inside of you. You grind down into his hand, your limbs tight and clenched, face hot and damp with sweat, nipples raw and sensitive from where they’re rubbing up against his chest, and he nips your neck with a possessiveness that both stings and turns you on at the same time. You’re so close, so close; you can practically taste the release, your walls clenching around his fingers -

He stops, wrenches his hand from you with a suddenness that makes you mewl in bitter disappointment at the cruel denial, lobs the vibrator - now silent - down the bed as he pulls you roughly into his lap. Your clit aligns with his hard cock perfectly and you moan at the tingles it sends throughout your body, and he starts to move his hips up and down, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the feeling of his hot desperation on yours. His hands slide down to your ass and keep you firmly in place as his movements continue, spreading your cheeks as the knot builds anew in your belly, tighter than before.

‘Come on, honey,’ he pants. ‘Come on, know you’re close, fuck I could listen to those pretty noises all day. Did you like my fingers in you? Fuck, baby, I want you to feel me right here -‘

He moves his left hand and places it lightly on your lower stomach, and the lightness of his touch combined with the slide of him against your clit is enough to unravel you, vaguely aware of him tipping his head back and exposing his vulnerable throat as his own orgasm hits just as hard.

You hold each other as you both come down from your high, dizzy with endorphins. He pulls you gently to him and you flop against him like a ragdoll, his release sticky on your tummy and breasts. He places a soft kiss against you, cool fingers trailing up and down your overheated spine.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Hm?’ In a daze, his heartbeat in your ear, you don’t recognise initially the words he’s said.

He sighs heavily. ‘’M sorry.’

You pull away from him as best you can, still jumbled in his lap. ‘What for?’

He waves his hand vaguely at you. ‘For not - being able to - have sex with you yet. I’m sorry.’

You feel your own cheeks heat up in embarrassment. ‘You’re not the one who should be apologising.’

He runs a hand through his hair awkwardly. ‘You didn’t say anything wrong. Just what you wanted.’

‘Yeah but - it’s put pressure on you. And that is not what I meant to do. At all. Bucky.’ You cup his jaw with your hands, running your thumbs over his stubbled skin. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.’

‘It’s ok,’ he says, but you can tell it’s not, can tell your begging for him to be inside of you has thrown his own insecurities under a bright light and he’s now analysing them from every angle.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’ you say as you place tiny butterfly kisses across his face. ‘I’m sorry.’

He doesn’t say anything in return, his hands gripping you loosely at the small of your back.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Sex

He has to go away again the next day for work, and apart from an obligatory ‘Got here safe and I’m still alive’, you don’t hear anything from him for three days. You jump every time your phone buzzes - every time you imagine it buzzes - and you grab your phone with lightening speed, only to be disappointed when it’s an email, a social media notification, a message from your mum.

By day five you’re wondering if you’ve fucked this up for good. You send him a message asking if he’s ok, has he kicked any bad guy butt yet?

He leaves you on read.

By day seven you can’t help but cry yourself to sleep.

*****

Day eight and you’re round feeding Alpine when you notice one of Bucky’s t-shirts on his sofa, big and dark and wrinkled from use. You pick it up and hold it to your face. It still smells like him. A wave of sadness washes over you and you strip off your clothes, pulling it over yourself and climbing into his bed, not even caring you have wandered firmly into ‘weird stalker ex behaviour’ territory.

You pull out your phone and send him a message.

I’m sorry if I pressured you, sorry if I fucked things up between us.

If you don’t want to see me again then I understand.

You wrap his arms around his pillow and fall asleep breathing in his scent, deciding you’ll let yourself have this and then that’s it, you’ll be out of his hair, won’t bother him again.

The thought sets you off crying again.

*****

It’s the middle of the night when the sound of someone unlocking the front door jolts you awake. You scramble upright and fumble clumsily for the light, knocking it off the bedside table, cringing as it crashes to the floor. Smooth.

There’s a heavy silence, broken only when you hear Bucky say: ‘Girlie? That you?’

‘Yeah,’ you groan. ‘Yeah, it’s me.’

You hear him shoo Alpine as he makes his way towards the bedroom. He flicks on the hall light, the yellow beam backlighting him as he stands in the doorway.

‘Hey,’ he says softly. He looks tired: even in the dim light from the hall, you can make out the dark, heavy bags under his eyes. The cut on his cheek has healed, but it’s been replaced by a new smattering of bruises along the line of his jaw, and his tactile suit has been sliced neatly open in various places across his body, exposing raw skin underneath.

‘Hey.’

He frowns at the wobble in your voice. ‘You ok?’

‘Peachy,’ you say, just as the waterworks start.

A flicker of alarm crosses his face, and you hide your own in your hands as sobs of the ugly, messy kind overtake you, heaving through your body inelegantly. You hear him struggle with his shoes and curse as he yanks off his tactile suit before he climbs into bed beside you, pulling you into his warm chest.

‘’S’ok, baby,’ he soothes. ‘’S’ok.’

Everything about him, you think, is comfort, from the feel of his skin and the warmth he emanates, to the smell of him and the way he knows how to make your body slot into his.

He waits until you’ve calmed down, your face hot and swollen, before he drops a kiss on your head.

‘So… you gonna tell me what that was about?’

You hide your face in his chest in embarrassment. ‘I didn’t think you wanted to see me anymore.’

‘Why would you think that?’ he asks, perplexed.

‘Because you didn’t message me back. Or call. All because of what I said. I was really fucking stupid, Bucky, and I didn’t mean -‘

‘Hey - hey, hey!’ He tries to shift so he can look at your face but you stubbornly stay where you are and he goes back to holding you again, huffing into your hair.

‘’M sorry,’ you mumble pathetically into his chest.

He sighs and gives you a squeeze. ‘You said. ‘M not mad, girlie. I couldn’t message you because Sam thought someone was tracking our phones. Otherwise I would’ve said something. Ok?’

‘Oh,’ you say, feeling like an absolute fucking tit. Your boyfriend’s literal job was to save the world, and here you were acting like a total millennial with nothing to think about but first world problems.

What an idiot.

His chest vibrates beneath you as he chuckles lowly. You punch his hard, washboard stomach weakly.

‘Shut up. I was really worried I upset you.’

‘’M made of sterner stuff than that, girlie. Takes a lot more than that to upset me.’

‘Stop it.’ You struggle away from him and sit upright, glaring at him. ‘Don’t lie to me. You were upset. I know you were. I saw it on your face. And then you didn’t really talk to me all evening. So - fuck you and your hard man act, Barnes. Just admit it.’

‘Hm.’ He runs a hand through his hair, looking awkward. ‘You’re too observant for your own good.’

‘There,’ you say triumphantly. ‘See? I was right. I upset you, and then you just - fucked off, didn’t say anything to me for a fucking week, and ok I get you were beating up bad guys or whatever the fuck it is you do for work, but fuck, Barnes, I love you and it was so fucking hard sitting here all week knowing I’d hurt your feelings and thinking you were mad at me and -‘

Your tear ducts choose this moment to spring back on again with renewed vigour and you try to hide your ugly cry-face in your hands, but he catches your wrists before cupping your chin in his hands and placing tiny kisses against your lips, on your nose and forehead, across your cheeks.

‘Baby,’ he whispers hoarsely, ‘baby.’

And before you know it your hands are around his neck and his are around your shoulders as he lies you back on the bed, pulling your - his - t-shirt up around your thighs as you yank his underwear down. He kicks them off awkwardly before starting to move down your thighs, but you squeeze his shoulders and bring him back up to you.

‘Please,’ you beg, ‘just want you. Want you so much, Bucky, I love you, I love you.’

‘Ah,’ he groans, his face in your neck. ‘I love you too, baby. I love you too.’

You feel like your heart could burst right now, didn’t know it was possible to feel this much emotion for one person.

He grunts and starts to pull away from you, making soothing noises as you protest, fumbling in his bedside drawer as he digs around for lube and a square foil packet. You reach for his hands as he starts to rip it open; he looks at you questioningly.

‘I’m on the pill,’ you say. ‘And - I’m safe.’

He takes a shaky breath. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. As long as you are.‘

He nods wordlessly, throwing the condom down by the side of the bed and reaching for the lube. He squeezes a generous amount in his palm and moves his hand up and down himself, looking flushed as you watch him, his cock so pretty in his right hand. He gives himself a last few pumps before he lets go and swipes the excess lube across your lower half, and you gasp at the cold sensation on your skin.

He rests himself on his forearms either side of you and aligns his body with yours, the head of his cock pushing against your entrance, insistent and hot. He kisses you messily and you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to hurry him along, but he stays firm, hovering above you.

‘You have to tell me,’ he says in a voice tight with restraint. ‘You have to tell me if it hurts.’

‘I will,’ you whimper, knowing it’s going to - you haven’t prepped at all, he’s fucking huge and you’ve barely had any time to get wet - but not caring anyway. ‘Just - please, Bucky. Want to feel you in me. Want -‘ You bite your lip, feeling shy as you say the words out loud - ‘want you to fill me up.’

He moans weakly, resting his forehead against yours, before starting to push in.

It hurts. Even with him lubed up and practically dripping with it, you still feel incredibly tight, unprepared for the sensation of his head pushing into you. You gasp, wincing in pain, and he stops, gritting his teeth as he nuzzles into your neck.

‘’S’ok, my baby. ‘S’ok. Just relax.’

‘I’m trying,’ you mutter. He laughs breathlessly at your sass, taking your earlobe firmly between his teeth.

‘Let me take care of you.’

You whimper and unwrap your legs, trying to spread them wider, trying to accommodate for his girth as he continues to sink into you, slowly, inch by inch. He continues to mumble incoherent nothings into your neck, praises and nicknames and words of arousal as he gradually enters you, his breath hot against your skin, until he gets halfway and stops, biting off a desperate moan.

‘Not gonna last, sugar, you’re so fucking tight.’

‘It’s ok,’ you pant. You cup his jaw and nudge him back toward your lips, kissing him softly, sweetly. ‘It’s ok. Guess what?’

‘What?’ he asks, breathing heavily now.

‘We can do this again.’

He drops his head as he laughs, his shoulders shaking, kissing your collarbones. ‘I love you,’ he says. ‘I - fuck, girlie, I love you.’

‘I know,’ you say, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, ‘I love you too.’

He jerks his hips just a bit too hard, bottoming out in you, and you gasp at the sudden burn you feel as he stretches you. He’s back on your neck, peppering your skin with hot kisses, trying to soothe you through the pain and get you to focus on that flicker of pleasure you can feel brewing around your parameters, begging to be let in.

‘Bucky,’ you whine. ‘Please - please move.’

He nods against you, unable to speak, and slowly starts moving himself in and out, in and out of you. Fuck that feels good, the spread of lube going a long way to ease his movements, and the tightness is still there but it’s a good kind of tightness now, the kind that makes you feel full, so fucking full you swear you can feel him deep in your tummy. He’s completely flush against you, still keeping his weight on his forearms, and you can feel every muscle in his body as he continues his long, slow thrusts into you: the heave of his chest with want, the clench of his stomach with arousal, the rub of his skin against your nipples. You wrap your legs around him once more and he gasps, breaking his rhythm, and you arch your back at the sensation, begging for him to do it again.

‘Please, Bucky,’ you whimper, beyond caring now about how needy and desperate you sound, focused entirely on the pleasure he’s feeling, the pleasure you’re feeling. ‘Please. Come in me, fill me up, come so deep inside of me, baby.’

He moans brokenly, biting the juncture of your neck too harshly, making you yelp as he soothes it with his tongue. ‘Gonna come if you say shit like that.’

‘Maybe I want you to come, sergeant.’

He tips his head back, exposing his throat, and you lift your own head and nip at him lightly as he comes inside of you, groans fractured by shaky ‘love you’s as he rides out his climax. He looks so vulnerable, so pretty and soft; you can’t help but feel your heart swell at the thought that you’re the only one who’s seen him this way, who’s seen him look this fucking beautiful.

You pull him to you as his movements slow, wrapping yourself around him, holding his warm, sweaty body to your own. He nuzzles into your neck, an unconscious stream of babble falling from his lips as he basks in the afterglow.

‘Love you,’ he slurs, his nips and kisses light and gentle. ‘Love you. Love you so much. Always loved you. Loved you from day one.’

‘Bucky Barnes,’ you giggle, and he grins against your skin.

‘Gonna say it all the time now. Love you. Love you. Fuck, baby, I love you.’

‘You’re ridiculous.’ You bring him back towards your mouth and he kisses you lazily, huffing a happy sigh against your lips. ‘And I love you too.’

He hums in contentment, and when he pulls out of you he kisses his way lazily down your body and hides his face between your thighs, seemingly unphased by the soaking mess of both of you he finds there.

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

Sergeant

You have sex everywhere, on every surface, in every room. Nowhere is safe: not the dining room table, not the sofa, not the shower, not the kitchen counter, not the wall in the hallway. If he can fuck you against it, if you can be fucked against it, then it would be rude deny such a perfect alignment of the stars.

He’s soft and soppy after sex, nuzzling your neck, curling into you (when you’re on the bed or sofa, at least), around you, holding you in your post-orgasmic haze. He babbles nonsensically into your skin, words of affection peppered with repeated ‘I love you’s. It’s like he’s love-drunk on you, and his uninhibited chatters make you giggle to yourself; you love that he lets you see this part of him, this inexplicable soft side he keeps hidden from the world.

‘My baby, my pretty baby,’ he slurs one lazy Saturday afternoon when you’re lying naked in his arms, your back against his chest and his arms looped around your waist. You smile at the rough scrub of his stubble against the sensitive skin of your neck. ‘Love you. Love you lots. Too pretty, too good to me.’

‘Bucky,’ you laugh. ‘I really need to pee or I’m going to get a UTI.’

He groans against you. ‘But baby.’

‘If I get a UTI there’s no sex for a week.’

He huffs out a grumpy sigh. ‘Fine.’

You sit up and kiss him deeply. ‘Be right back. Promise.’

‘You better.’

He reaches out and grabs for your behind as you walk away, laughing at the surprised squeal you make in response.

*****

You alternate between apartments, depending on whose is cleaner or who is the first person in the evening or weekend to knock on the other’s door. He feels at home at yours, a tension easing from his shoulders as he passes through the door way, stealing your books and pinching your shower gel when he stays the night. More and more of your clothes end up at his place, usually thrown on the floor at various stages around the bed; he teases you about your messiness, before shyly clearing out a drawer for you in his bedside table.

He doesn’t own a lot. Some battered books, second-hand DVDs of old films, the occasional memento from his past life: dog tags, yellowing newspaper clippings, a framed photo of him and Captain America looking young and fresh-faced. He catches you staring at it one evening as he’s clearing away dinner (black bean chilli - Bucky is a surprisingly good cook).

‘That was back after Steve enlisted,’ he says without preamble. ‘We were just stupid kids. Didn’t know what we were getting ourselves in for.’

You step up to the photo and study his young face, complete with cheeky grin. ‘How old were you here?’

Current Bucky smiles wryly. ‘Old enough to probably know better.’

‘Why did you enlist?’

He shrugs as he grabs the last scraps of cutlery from the table. ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time. When you’re young and stupid, it’s nice to have someone make all the decisions for you.’

He finishes tidying up and steps up behind you, circling your waist with his arms. You hum and lean back into him, reassured by his solidity and warmth.

‘You know,’ he mumbles thoughtfully. ‘I think that been the hardest thing.’

‘What’s that?’

He places a chaste kiss against your neck. ‘Making decisions again. Spent all that time in the army being told what to do. Spent all that time with Hydra being told what to do. Having free will again - it’s a lot. Sometimes -‘ Another kiss against you - ‘sometimes it would be nice just to have those decisions made for me again. Just for a bit.’

You hum, uncertain of what to say, placing your hands on top of his, rubbing your thumb across his left hand lightly. He sighs into you, happy and content to be holding you, to be this close to you.

‘You were pretty adorable back then, sergeant,’ you say, admiring the photo again.

He huffs an embarrassed sigh into your neck, and you can feel the heat emanating from his skin.

*****

It’s when he has you pinned up against your front door late one Friday after you’ve had a long, long day at work that you decide to give it a try.

‘Fuck me, sergeant. Fuck me hard and fast, right here, right now.’

He freezes; you can almost feel the tension thrumming under the surface of his skin, feel the way he holds his breath as he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

‘I’m - I’m sorry,’ you stammer. Fuck, you have completely and totally misjudged this situation. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - I didn’t - Bucky -‘

‘Will you tell me what to do?’

He’s lifted his head and his staring at you with eyes dilated black with arousal, shallow pants escaping from his kiss-bitten lips. He’s the absolute picture of pure desire, and it’s all directed at you.

You thread your hands through his hair and his groans, tipping his head back, exposing his throat to you, that vulnerable part only you’re allowed access to.

‘Do you want me to tell you want to do, sergeant?’

He nods, knocked stupid by sheer want, his hands tight on your waist.

‘Uh-huh.’

Sometimes it would be nice just to have those decisions made for me again.

Just for a bit.

You drag him down the hall to your bedroom, reaching for your dress and tugging it over your head, leaving you just in your underwear; he frantically does the same, yanking his clothes off and lobbing them haphazardly onto the floor. You can’t help but smirk to yourself as you point to the centre of the bed and he lies down obediently, his dick already standing at full attention. You climb on top of him and crawl up his muscular body, positioning yourself languidly over his hips, your hot centre hovering teasingly over him, never making contact.

‘Baby,’ he begs, arching his back. You squeeze your thighs around him and he grunts in response.

‘Not yet. You’re gonna lie back, sergeant. You’re going to lie back, hands at your sides, and I’m going to take you into my mouth and make you feel better than you ever have done before. Ok?’

‘’K,’ he manages. You reach up and kiss him, your six-foot tall, one-armed ex-Avenger who’s putty in the palm of your hand.

You settle yourself between his legs, placing your hands on his thighs, lighting scratching the sensitive skin, making him whine beneath you. You nip his right thigh and you feel his upper body twitch, feel him fighting the urge to fist his hands in your hair and guide you to exactly where he needs you to be. You bite again, slightly harder, and he lets out a moan that goes straight to your centre.

‘You’re ok, sergeant,’ you murmur. ‘I got you. You just gotta lie back, ok? Lie back and let me take care of you.’

He moans weakly. ‘Yes ma’am.’

Fuck - if you weren’t wet before, you definitely are now.

You take him fully in your mouth, blinking back the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat, and he practically yelps at the sudden sensation, chanting your name as you pull your lips up and almost off him before sliding them back down again. He tries to push his hips towards you but you keep your hands firmly on the insides of his thighs, lightly holding him in place, and even though he could easily overpower you, he doesn’t: you’re the one calling the shots, you’re the one in control, and he’s more than happy to sit back and let you.

‘Baby - fuck, baby, fuck.’

His cries are desperate as you continue your sweet torment, fisting the sheets as he squirms beneath you, feeling hot and heavy against your tongue. You try to take him as deep as you can, reaching up with your other hand to tease what your mouth can’t take, his shaft slick with your spit as you contrast the rhythm with that from your mouth. He pushes out a yell that sounds something that sounds vaguely like your name, and you feel his hands suddenly in your hair; you release him on reflex, his dick falling from your mouth with a pop.

‘Nuh-uh, sergeant,’ you say, looking up at him with lidded eyes. ‘I told you: hands off.’

He looks so fucking beautiful like this: it’s taking everything in you to maintain some level of control, to say ‘fuck it’ to this little role play and take him back into your mouth and suck him to completion. His chest is heaving, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, gathering in the dips and ripples of his stomach; his cheeks are bright red, his lips sore from being bitten, strands of hair plastered to his hot forehead. He’s looking at you with absolute reverence, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and it makes you throb impatiently between your thighs.

‘S-sorry,’ he stammers. His dick twitches needily against his lower belly and you can’t help but lick him from base to tip in a single, hot line. ‘Ah - fuck. ‘M sorry. Please - please don’t stop.’

‘Don’t stop what, sergeant?’ You shift, moving your body up his so your face is hovering over his, hot puffs of exhale tickling your skin. He groans at the loss of you between his legs, grips your hips with his hands, and you let him, sensing he needs something to hold, something to anchor himself. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘Please, ma’am,’ he pants. ‘Please - suck me off and - touch me like you do. Please.’

You know where he means, too shy to ask explicitly, and you plant a soft kiss on his forehead. ‘You’d tell me if this was too much, right?’

‘Uh-huh.’ He’s so far gone, high on arousal, that you’re not even sure he hears you.

‘Bucky? You -‘

He lets go of your hip with his left hand, trailing it up to cup your face. You nuzzle into the coolness, sighing at the pleasant sensation.

‘I’d tell you,’ he murmurs. ‘I trust you.’

This broken man trusts you with his entire being, and it’s enough to make you feel light-headed, your heart swelling in your chest with irrepressible love.

‘Lie back, sergeant.’

He whines, completely and utterly submissive at the sound of your voice, tilting his head back against the pillows as you settle back between his thick thighs, parted just for you.

You tease his head, taking just the tip into your mouth and suckling lightly, running your tongue along his slit as your hand drifts lower, lower, down to that spot you know he wants. He’s a panting mess beneath you, alternating between desperate moans and broken babble, his thighs clenching and unclenching either side of you as you continue to tease him with your lips, teeth, tongue.

He looks so pretty, and all you want is to undo him completely, take him apart in a way no one else has done before.

‘Bucky,’ you murmur, pulling away from him, never stopping the rub of your fingers.

‘Y-yeah?’ he stammers weakly.

You take a deep breath and push forward before you lose your nerve and back down.

‘It could feel even better.’

You see his Adam’s Apple bob up and down as he swallows hard at your words, before spreading his legs just a little more.

‘Please.’

You exhale shakily as you pull away and grab the lube from the bedside drawer, rubbing a generous amount on your fingers. You’ve done this before - when you’re with someone for a long time, like you were with your ex, you can’t help but experiment in an attempt to stop your sex life getting stale - but not many times, and with Bucky it feels even more intimate: he’s giving himself over to you entirely, placing a degree of trust in you that makes your head spin.

‘Have you done this before?’

‘No ma’am.’ He watches you as you trail your hand up his thigh, causing him to shiver. Your middle finger traces that area where he desperately wants - needs - you to be and he gasps, tipping his head back, so close already to that quivery sensation of bliss.

You take a deep, shaky breath, before you start to breach his tight walls.

He whines as you push in, his thighs trembling, moaning your name brokenly. You glance up at him; his eyes are screwed shut and his face is bright red, a delightful blush that’s spreading down his neck and across his chest.

‘Relax for me, sergeant.’ He’s tight, so tight, and he mumbles something incoherent as he tries to breathe deeply, evenly, his cock twitching against his belly, desperate for attention. You massage him gently, stretching him until he can take another lubed finger, and he groans at the intrusion, repeated ‘baby’s being pushed from his lips, and fuck he has no idea how much that word does it for you, how wet it makes you, your underwear sticking uncomfortably between your thighs.

You curl your fingers, searching for that needy bundle, and the noise he makes when you find it, the involuntary buck of his hips, goes straight to your core.

‘There,’ he pleads, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for his dick, setting a frantic pace. ‘There, fuck me, please fuck me - don’t stop, wanna come, wanna come so bad, so close, ‘m so fucking close.’

A perfect drop of precum seeps from the head of his cock, and he smears it hastily across his tip, greedy for more as you rub his most sensitive spot, pushing him to that earth-shattering breaking point. God - he looks so fucking gorgeous like this, so fucking needy and desperate, and you want to kiss the wrinkles around his scrunched-up eyes, want to swallow the constant profanities spilling from his lips, the ones building and building in volume as he spreads himself for you and just for you.

‘Keep going, sergeant,’ you murmur, eyes transfixed on the sight of him wet and wanting beneath you, ‘keep going until you come.’

He moans, his loudest one yet, unable to keep it inside, fucking himself down onto your fingers and up into his hand, arching his back as he falls apart so completely, entirely at your mercy, painting his chest as he clenches around you, and you can’t help but think he looks so beautiful like this, so vulnerable and exposed and raw.

You keep going, easing your fingers from him as the movement of his hips and the spill of curse words both slow, and he practically whimpers at the loss of contact. You crawl over him and place teasingly butterfly kisses along his jaw as he tries to catch his breath, eyes screwed shut and his dick soft between you two.

‘That,’ he pants, ‘fuck, that - that - please can we do that again.’

You outright giggle, unable to contain yourself as you feel his boneless body beneath you, well and truly spent.

‘Of course we can, sergeant. Of course we can.’

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Breeding Kink

You might re-sexualise Bucky Barnes, but in return he teaches you things about yourself you didn’t know before you met him. Kinky things. Dirty things that make you blush and make you wonder what it is about this sweet man that makes you forget yourself and turns you into a horny, desperate mess.

Like how he teases your breasts, sucking and biting lightly at your nipples while you touch yourself, pushing yourself against the thigh he has wedged between your legs until you come.

Or how he sits behind you, your sweaty back pressed flush against his chest as he watches you use your toys, his hands fucking everywhere and his mouth on your neck, nipping love bites into your skin.

Or when he rolls you over first thing in the morning, when you’re both still dozy with sleep, and he aligns himself with your entrance and teases you, kisses you until you’re wet enough to take him.

He tells you he loves you every time, and every time you know he means it with every cell in his broken body.

He’d found so many turn-ons you had no idea about; it only a matter of time before he discovers that embarrassing kink you did know about, the one you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

*****

‘What do you like?’

You look down at his head in your lap. He’s gazing up at you, a dazed expression on his face as you rub your fingers through his hair.

‘I like to watch my films without one-armed super soldiers interrupting me,’ you tease.

He smirks. ‘No you don’t. What do you like. Sexually.’

‘You know what I like,’ you say coyly, scratching your nails lightly across his scalp. He groans lightly and arches into your touch.

‘Not like that,’ he mumbles. ‘I don’t know what you like that makes you do that.’

‘What - turns me into a little sub in your hands? Sergeant?’

‘Shut up,’ he mumbles, blushing fiercely, and you laugh, placing a reassuring kiss on his forehead. He locks his baby blues with yours. ‘I wanna know what makes you feel this way. What makes you go all - ‘sub’, as you put it.’

Want you to fill me up.

Want you to make me full of you.

Baby.

‘Ah,’ you say shyly, shoving those thoughts shamefully to the back of your mind. ‘Nothing I can think of. Sorry, Buck.’

He frowns slightly, studying your face, and you know he knows you’re lying. He tilts your face back towards his and places a chaste kiss to your lips.

‘Guess I’ll just have to work it out, then.’

*****

He works it out when you’re watching TV together one night a few weeks later, his arms curled around you, right hand pressed firmly on your cramping belly.

‘I hate being a woman,’ you grumble. He hums sympathetically and drops a kiss on your forehead.

‘’M sorry, girlie. Anything I can get you?’

‘No,’ you pout, pressing yourself into his side. ‘Just cuddles.’

‘That I can do.’

His left arm slung around your middle, holding you loosely to him, and his right hand is resting on your tummy, making you feel warm - too warm. You squirm slightly, hoping the movement will shift his hand ever-so-slightly; but instead all that happens is that you graze the underside of breasts - tender and sensitive with hormones - against his left forearm.

You tense in his arms. He, of course, notices.

‘You ok, baby?’

You can practically feel the rush of blood to your face, practically feel the rush of heat between your legs.

You shove his hands away and stand up abruptly, fussing over your t-shirt before gathering up cups and cutlery and left-over shit from your takeaway this evening.

‘Uh - you good?’ Bucky sounds thoroughly confused by your sudden insistence on tidying up. You duck your head, trying to hide your hot face behind your hair, and scarper into the kitchen.

‘Yup,’ you call over your shoulder, faux chipper. ‘Just fine!’

You dump all the shit on the side and stand over the sink, trying to calm your heaving breath. Fuck’s sake. If there’s one thing you don’t want this man to know about, it’s this. Your embarrassing kink, the one you’ve never told anyone, not since you tentatively tried to broach the topic with your ex and he shut you down right off the bat, asking you what kind of person would like a kink like that. You reach for the cold tap, intending to splash some water on your overheated skin -

‘Hey.

‘Jesus fuck.’ You turn around to find him leaning in the door way, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched. You huff and reach for the tap. ‘What?’

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing’s up.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘Sure. You ok?’

‘Fine.’ You’re staring at his feet, refusing to meet his eye, knowing he’ll see in your own the flames of arousal that you’re desperately trying to put out. Hand on your tummy, touching your sensitive breasts, calling you baby, fuck, imagine him just putting a baby in you -

‘You even gonna look at me?’

You shake your head aggressively.

He sighs. Steps forward and places both hands tenderly under your jaw, tilting your head up gently, his baby blues flicking over your face, concern clouding his gaze.

‘Baby?’

You close your eyes, a weak moan escaping from your lips.

Fuck.

You can practically hear the whirs of Bucky’s brain as they piece everything together and end up at the inevitable outcome.

‘Oh.’

An overwhelming flood of shame crashes over your body and you fumble, reaching out and pacing both hands on Bucky’s firm, broad chest, pushing him away. Even though he’s infinitely stronger than you and your weak push was probably nothing to him, he lets go of you and stumbles backwards, swallowing hard.

‘Get out.’

‘Girlie,’ he says slowly, raising his hands slightly in surrender, but you don’t let him finish.

‘Get out. Please - just please - get out.’

Hot tears of embarrassment spring from your eyes; your fingers are trembling and you clench your hands in fists by your sides. He looks like he wants to say something, but he takes one look at your face and the words catch in his throat.

‘Ok.’

He lets himself out, his shoulders slumped, and you slam the door shut behind him before grabbing a pillow from the sofa and yelling into it.

Fuck’s sake.

*****

You don’t talk to him for three days, too embarrassed to even think about messaging him, and on the morning of the fourth day, you wake up to a text from him.

I love you.

Please don’t forget.

You groan and rub your eyes before hitting the ‘call’ button next to his name.

‘Playing the battered soldier card, are we,’ you grumble as he picks up.

‘Did it work?’

‘Fuck you, Barnes. I love you too.’

‘Glad we’re still on the same page.’

He’s trying to keep it light, but there’s an edge of relief to his voice, and you feel a heavy stone of guilt settle into your gut at the thought of him worrying about his relationship with you.

‘Of course we are. That’s not changing anytime soon, sergeant.’

He chuckles, his breath sounding slightly shaky.

‘Fancy coming over tonight? Alpine misses you.’

‘Just Alpine?’ you tease.

‘Maybe I miss you a bit, too.’

‘A bit? Damn, make me feel more wanted, Buck.’

He laughs, the deep vibration in your ear making you feel warm inside.

‘I always want you.’ A pause, then: ‘You can’t scare me off that easily, girlie.’

You make a humiliated noise in the back of your throat, plucking at a piece of fluff on the bedsheets. ‘Bucky.’

‘Look,’ he says lightly, ‘let’s just - let’s just talk tonight, ok? I miss you. And I wanna see you.’ Another pause? Then: ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed around me.’

You take a shaky breath, trying to calm the sicky feeling you feel brewing in your gut.

‘Ok.’

*****

It takes you a good twenty minutes for you to build up the courage to reach up and knock on his door. He opens it with a wry smile, his eyes soft, wrinkled slightly around the edges.

‘Was wondering when you were gonna bite the bullet.’

You roll your eyes and push past him. ‘Nosy super-secret assassin.’

He chuckles at your brattiness, and you kick your shoes off, bending down and fussing over Alpine, who purrs contentedly around your legs. You glance up at Bucky and he does that smile again, the half-one that makes your tummy feel funny; you clear your throat awkwardly, standing and brushing your hands on your skirt.

‘Fancy some dinner?’ he asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You feel inexplicably nervous your palms sweaty and a sicky taste in the back of your throat. ‘Yeah, that - that would be good.’

*****

He’s made curry, aubergine and lentil, and it’s only a bit awkward to start, before he asks you how your day was and you both slip into that easy comfortability you always find around the other person, a natural ease that makes your heart sing and feels as natural as breathing. He tells you about the mission he and Sam are going on in a few days - the parts he can tell you about, anyway - and even when you’ve both finished eating, the pair of you continue to sit at the table, thriving off the way you make the other person laugh, make the other person smile.

It starts to get dark outside; he reaches up and flicks the overhead light on, and you take that as your cue to start clearing the table, taking both your empty plates and putting them in his kitchen sink.

‘So.’

You practically jump out of your skin. He’s standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest, the scenario a perfect mirror image of the one from your apartment a few nights ago.

You swallow. ‘So.’

He waits patiently, but when you don’t say anything, offers you a lifeline. ‘You want to start or shall I?’

You feel your face growing hot and stare down at your feet. ‘You go. I don’t know if I can.’

He waits another minute, waits for you to get yourself a little more under control, then says in a carefully neutral tone:

‘You have a breeding kink.’

You wince; hearing it said out loud like that makes you want to curl up in a tiny ball and have the ground swallow you up. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘How long were you planning on not telling me that?’

‘I mean…’ You trail off, shrugging pathetically. ‘Forever…?’

You hear him huff in frustration. ‘Girlie,’ he says, but you cut him off, lifting your head to glare at him, hot tears of shame stinging the corners of your eyes.

‘Stop it. Stop being so - nice about it. Ok?’

‘How do you want me to be about it?’ he asks, totally perplexed.

‘I don’t know. Honest. How do you actually feel about it?’

‘I - uh - well -‘ He runs a hand through his hair. ‘To be honest - I’ve never… considered it before. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try it,’ he says hurriedly as you cross your arms over your chest. ‘Honey, you just - you gotta talk to me, ok? ‘M no good at this shit.’

You sigh. Look at him standing there awkwardly, a desperate look in his eyes, pleading with you to let him in, to not shut him out.

‘I’m not good at this either, Buck. I haven’t exactly - spoken to many people about this. Or spoken to anyone about this, really.’

‘Not even your ex? The one you were with for a long time?’

‘No. He didn’t…’ You cringe and shut your eyes at the hot rush of shame you feel trickling down your spine. ‘It didn’t float his boat.’

‘So… you’ve never done anything about it since?’

You shake your head fiercely.

‘Why not?’

You snap your eyes open and glare at his genuinely curious face. ‘Because!’ you hiss. ‘It’s embarrassing!’

‘Why is it embarrassing?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me, old man. Because I don’t want a baby. Not right now, anyway. But the thought of just - throwing caution to the wind and just - risking it - the thought of being fucked so good that everyone else can fucking see -‘ You flush again and duck your head. ‘Yeah,’ you finish meekly.

Bucky takes a deep breath through his nose, out through his mouth. ‘Look,’ he says. ‘I haven’t - I’ve never really thought about it in that way. But that doesn’t mean - I’m not willing to - try.’

‘Bucky,’ you groan. ‘Just - forget it, ok? It’s not a big deal -‘

‘It is a big deal,’ he insists. ‘This is obviously a big thing for you. Something you want to try. Right?’

‘Right,’ you mumble.

‘So - let’s - try.’

‘Yeah?’ You look up at him in disbelief, a hot spark of arousal settling in your tummy.

He nods. ‘Yeah. You just - you have to tell me if I’m doing or saying something wrong. Ok?’

‘Ok. Just - don’t expect me to call you daddy. Because that is not happening.’

He lets out a bark of laughter. ‘Works for me.’

And with that, he steps forward, grabs your hips, and turns you around so you’re facing away from him, placing both hands on the sink either side of you so you’re hemmed in by his big, strong arms.

‘So.’ He bends forward so his voice is right in your ear, thick and sweet like honey. ‘Tell me, sugar.’

You’re holding your breath as you wait for him to continue, that spark blooming into a full-on fire now, and Bucky’s fanning the flames. He nips your earlobe playfully before he goes in for the kill:

‘You want me to put a baby in you?’

The arousal you feel at those words is like nothing you’ve ever felt before: a dizzying high tide of intense want, spiked with a healthy helping of pure need. You tilt your head back, bumping it against his shoulder, and whine out loud.

‘Uh-huh,’ is all you can say.

He chuckles against you, low and breathless. ‘Fuck. Look at you. I’ve barely said anything - not even touched you yet - and you’re practically begging for me. That how much you want it?’ He leans in even closer, practically caging you in with his warm, bulky body. ‘That how much you want me to make you a mama?’

‘Yes.’ You squirm against him, desperate to give the overwhelming levels of want in you some kind of outlet; you grind your behind against him, vaguely registering he’s already hard.

Maybe he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

‘Needy.’ He grabs your hips, stilling your movements, and you barely have time to protest at the loss of contact before he’s shoving his right hand up your skirt and tracing the outline of you through your underwear, and you send a silent prayer to the higher powers that your period has kindly fucked off already. He groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. ‘Fuck. You’re so wet already. Really does it for you, huh.’

You nod, feeling dumb with want. ‘Uh-huh.’

He grunts something that sounds vaguely like your name, pushing his hand into your underwear, positioning his fingers so they form a teasing V shape on either side of your clit, moving them slowly up and down through your folds. You moan and try to cant against him, but his left hand is still on your hip, holding you firm.

‘Shh,’ he soothes, his voice back at your ear, hot breath tickling your skin. ‘It’s ok, sugar. Lemme take care of you. You don’t have to do anything, honey. Just stand there looking all pretty while I fuck my baby in your belly. Can you do that for me?’

‘Fuck’s sake, Bucky,’ you whine. He’s barely touched you - still hadn’t touched your clit, hasn’t even traced your entrance yet - and you can already feel your orgasm building, a tight knot curling deep in the bed of your tummy.

He ducks his head and licks a hot, wet stripe from the crook of your neck to the spot behind your ear. ‘I’ve thought about it.’

‘Huh?’ His fingers are so close to your clit, if you could just move the tiniest bit, he’d be touching you right where you need him.

‘Thought about you carrying my baby.’

That’s almost enough to do you in and you moan helplessly, arching your back against him, desperate for any contact, any friction, anything to help the hot pool of sheer want that’s threatening to rise up and consume you.

‘You have?’

‘Uh-huh.’ He sounds dazed now, hoarse with arousal as he continues in that same, low tone, the one that seems to have your core on speed-dial. ‘Thought about how pretty you’d look. With your belly all big and round and full. All because of me. Me and the way I fuck you.’

Fuck. It’s getting to be too much for you, the sweet nothings he’s uttering fulfilling every fantasy you’ve ever had and more, and you’re about to start begging when you feel the tips of his fingers dipping lightly - teasingly - into your entrance.

‘Shit,’ he groans, slightly in awe, slightly in what sounds vaguely like pain. ‘You’re so fucking wet. How are you this wet?‘

‘I don’t know,’ you whine, ‘I don’t know, just need you to fuck me, please Bucky, need you to fuck a baby in me, please please please.’

He moans, abruptly pulling his fingers away and yanking down your underwear, hitching up your skirt; you practically cry out with relief when you hear the sound of his belt buckle being undone, his jeans being unzipped; the head of his dick sits at your entrance, not pushing in, and you whine in protest, wordlessly pleading for him to push in and fuck you, give you what you need. His hands - rough now with need - palm your breasts through your bra, his thumbs swiping back and forth over where your nipples sit under the fabric.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he babbles, ‘thought about how sore and sensitive you would be, how you’d be begging for me to do this to you every day, begging for me to suck you and make your perfect tits feel better -‘

You can’t take it any more, your hips now free of his grip, and you tilt yourself back so you can take him inside.

It’s tight. You’re practically dripping with slick, but you haven’t been stretched out yet, and the sensation of your walls clamping down on him make you both cry out. He reaches up and grabs your chin, tilting it towards you as best he can and rewarding you with a messy, bruising kiss.

‘Fill me up,’ you beg. ‘Please fill me up, want you to come in me, Bucky, want you to just fill me with your cum -‘

He groans loudly, the pace he sets rough and fast, making your eyes roll into the back of your head as you reach behind you and grab at him, holding on as he fucks you senseless. He shoves his right between your thighs and rubs at you, just the way you need him too, his left hand trailing down and resting on your stomach.

‘Just think,’ he practically purrs in your ear. ‘Think about how pretty you’d look, all big and round with my baby, everyone will know how good I fuck you, how good I take care of you -‘

‘Bucky.’

His name almost sounds inhuman the way it falls from your lips, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, so strung out on chasing your high. It’s frantic, almost brutal the way he’s slamming himself into you, but it’s just what you need, just what you’ve always imagined, and you can already feel yourself clenching around him, so far gone on his words and touch and him.

He bites a hickey into your neck that you know you’re going to have for days, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

‘Can feel you,’ he moans into your skin. ‘Can feel you getting close. You want this? You want me to fill you up so good, make you a mama?’

‘Yes yes Bucky please come on -‘

He licks the shell of your ear, panting harshly, his voice a deep growl that you feel in every corner of your body.

‘Come for me, sugar. Gonna get you pregnant.’

And that does you in, and you fucking feel the pleasure everywhere - the backs of your thighs, the base of your spine, deep in your gut - as it takes over, one hand still on your tummy and the other still on your clit as you tighten around him, the quivery clenches and bodily shudders like no other orgasm you’ve had before, almost overwhelming in its intensity. He grunts your name into your ear and his hips stutter as you feel him flood you, causing you to moan weakly at the sensation: it’s what you wanted, exactly what you wanted and more.

You flop against him, reduced to jelly in his arms, mewling with oversensitivity as he continues to thrust his softening dick lightly in and out of you, the mix of you both trickling down the inside of your thighs.

‘So pretty,’ he coos; he’s babbling now, like he always does after intense sex, his tongue loose with endorphins. ‘So fucking good for me. Fuck, baby, I love you. I love you. Gonna have my baby and I love you.’

‘Bucky.’ You feel boneless, spent, more satisfied than you ever have done in your life. You rest your hand on top of his left one, the one still on top of your tummy. ‘Bucky.’

He hums into your skin. ‘It’s ok. It’s ok. Me too.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask shakily. You can feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes at everything unspoken between you both, everything unsaid: because there’s no need to say the words, you both know and you both feel the same.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I - I want that. I want that with you.’

‘Not tomorrow,’ you blurt out, causing him to chuckle. ‘And not - not next week, either. But - one day. With you. Only you.’

He sighs contentedly and places a lazy kiss against your neck. ‘Thank you.’

You know what he’s thanking you for.

For being patient with him as he relearnt his body, rediscovered what it was like to be close and intimate with another person in a way that bared your soul.

For loving him in all his imperfect ways, just as he loves you in all of yours.

For being everything he never thought he could have.

You know all this, but you smile and ask him anyway: ‘What for, sergeant?’

He presses a kiss against where he bit you earlier, still raw and sensitive, his kiss light and tender.

‘Everything.’

-fin-

Chapter Text

Bonus Chapter

Dildos and Trust

One thing you love about Bucky: he’s curious.

He wants to know you inside out, back to front, upside down. Wants to know all of your pleasure points and what happens if he kisses, licks, fingers, bites each one; wants to know what makes you sigh, what makes you whimper, what makes you throw your head back and pant his name.

But he wants to know himself too. It’s like he’s starting from scratch, a complete blank canvas, and even though the two of you have filled in a lot of gaps, there are some hazy areas that remain.

Before he met you, hazy areas would have scared him. Hazy areas meant unknown, unknown meant lack of control, lack of control meant Winter Soldier and hurt and hate.

But now he has you, he’s discovered that hazy areas don’t have to mean that any more, that as long as you’re in it together, maybe those hazy areas aren’t so intimidating after all.

*****

Your alarm wakes you one weekday the following week; you groan and hit snooze a couple of times, wishing Bucky was there to curl into instead of being away on work again. You wait until the alarm goes off for a third time before grabbing your phone and turning it off completely, squinting at the screen. One message from Bucky, in the wee hours of the morning: not unusual when he’s away, bored, and missing you.

What’s pegging?

You practically drop your phone on your face.

Um. Hi. Good morning.

Any explanation for this?

His status flicks to online. You wonder if he’s slept at all tonight, or if he’s been on high alert the whole time, waiting for bad guys or whatever the fuck it is he does.

I dunno. Read it somewhere last night.

What were you reading?

Some punk ass kid was wearing a t-shirt with it on at the diner we went to. Asked Sam and he didn’t answer. Just laughed his ass off. Prick.

Are you going to answer my question?

You groan and rub your eyes. This is not how you were expecting to start your day.

Pegging is when a girl fucks a guy. Ok?

Ok, that doesn’t sound like such a big deal.

You can’t help but laugh at the innocence of your sweet, 100 year old boyfriend.

No, Buck.

Pegging is when a girl *fucks* a guy.

What’s with the asterisks?

You don’t reply and wait for the pieces to fall into place. You’re halfway through your shower when your phone pings.

Oh.

Right.

With you.

Asterisks.

Ok.

Question answered.

You can’t help but giggle to yourself.

You ok there, sergeant? Just found out more about sex in the 21st century than you thought you would?

Wait until you hear about BDSM.

You’re about to leave off for work when he finally responds.

Don’t worry girlie, I know what that one is.

Speak later?

Course, sarg.

Love you.

Love you too, my baby doll.

*****

He messages you every day, usually around three-thirty in the morning, and you know it’s a comfort for him, an anchor keeping him tethered to reality.

Hey, girlie. Miss you and your pretty face. Another boring ass day without you. Can’t wait until I get to wake up to you again. Love you.

Morning, girlie. Counting down the hours until I see you again. Hope it rains this weekend so we can spent it all in bed. Love you.

Hi, girlie. Maybe you can tell Sam to stop being such an annoying motherfucker when we’re out on missions because I’m all out of ways to tell him. Anyway. Be back soon. Love you.

He’s been away for a full week when he calls you at three-thirty instead.

‘Buck,’ you grumble as you rub your eyes. ‘I love you. But I love you more when the sun’s up.’

‘Sorry. Wanted to hear your voice.’

His words sound stretched thin and you sit up in bed. ‘Baby?’

‘Nightmare. Just a nightmare.’

You pause, then say softly: ‘Hey. Did I tell you about what happened at work the other day?’

‘Tell me.’

So you do, and you keep talking until his breathing calms and the terror has left his voice and he tells you he loves you with a sincerity that makes you want to cry.

*****

He calls you the next day, again at three-thirty.

‘Baby?’ you say, fighting back the sleep. ‘You ok?’

‘If I asked you to fuck me - would you be against that?’

‘Bucky.’ You tap your bedside lamp on, then automatically regret it as it burns your eyes. ‘I already do fuck you.’

‘No,’ he says, ‘I mean - you fuck me.’

‘You saying the same words again isn’t going to make them any clearer to me. I already do fuck you.’

He huffs out a sound of annoyance. ‘That isn’t what I meant.’

‘Well,’ you grumble, ‘I don’t know what you meant. Look, can we talk about this in the morning? Actual morning?’

There’s a pause, and you can practically hear his jaw clenching.

‘Yeah,’ he mutters, ‘whatever.’

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone, thoroughly confused, and flick off your light.

You’re about to drift off to sleep when it hits you.

You fumble for your phone; he picks up on the last ring, like he was trying not to answer.

‘You want me to peg you,’ you blurt out.

He makes a strangled noise on the other end, before managing: ‘Glad you got there eventually.’

*****

It’s too much to talk about over the phone - you hate the thought of not being able to look into his eyes, see his expression change as he talks about this new fantasy of his - but when he comes home and crawls into your bed in the small hours, you feel it’s too intimate, too much, and he must know that by the way you curl up to him, maybe a little slower than before, because he sighs as he runs his left hand lightly up and down your spine.

‘I’ve freaked you out, haven’t I.’

‘No,’ you say quickly, hiding your hot face in his chest. ‘No. I just - I haven’t - done that before. You know?’

‘Yeah, well,’ he mumbles in embarrassment, ‘that makes two of us.’

You groan and fumble for your light, squinting at him as it flicks on. He blinks up at you in surprise, his hair a tousled, dirty mess from three days on the go with no shower, fresh slices of red blooming on his right arm. You frown at him.

‘Fuck’s sake, Buck. I’ve only got one of you. Take care of yourself. For my sake.’

‘Would you believe me if I told you I do?’

‘No,’ you mutter sullenly. You sit up, shift so you’re facing him, still partially curled up in the blanket, and he sits up against the headboard opposite you, shirtless and looking downright fuckable in the yellow light. ‘So.’

‘I’m not gay. Promise.’

‘I… didn’t say you were,’ you say slowly.

He groans and runs a hand over his face, tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling.

‘Bucky, come on, baby. Don’t be going all insecure hetero man on me,’ you say gently, to which he snorts in response. ‘It’s ok if that’s what you like. I’m not judging you.’

‘I don’t know if that’s what I like,’ he says gruffly, closing his eyes as a pink flush appears on his cheeks. ‘I just - I dunno. You said what it was and now I can’t stop - thinking about it. And I liked it when you - you know - the other day. With - yeah. So… I dunno. Two plus two equals four, I guess.’

He’s bright red now, a tomato-coloured bloom spreading right the way down his neck to the top of his chest. You settle yourself across his thighs and take his face in your hands, running your fingers across his stubbled cheeks, but Bucky Barnes is a stubborn man and he refuses to budge.

‘Baby,’ you say. ‘It’s just me.’

‘Yeah,’ he grimaces. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’

You still, and when you manage to speak, your voice is meek. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Fuck’s sake. ‘M sorry, girlie. That came out all wrong. I just - I don’t wanna scare you off. Ok? That’s what I meant. Honest.’

His hands are on your hips, nudging up under your T-shirt (his T-shirt), toying with the sides of your underwear. You sigh and sit up, placing a soft kiss to his forehead before resettling back on in his lap.

‘Look,’ you say. ‘Look at me.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘Mmm-hmmm. Come on, Buck. You know it gets me off thinking about you knocking me up. Can’t be any worse than that, right?’

‘Hey,’ he complains, but there’s a slight smile on his face as he finally tilts his head to look at you. You smile at him.

‘Hey there, sergeant.’

‘Hey, girlie.’

‘So,’ you say. ‘You want me to fuck you.’

Somehow, although you didn’t think it was possible, he goes redder.

‘Yeah,’ he manages. ‘I - I do.’

*****

It’s impossible to do any form of work the next day with the mental image of a hot and begging Bucky on his hands and knees in front of you, keening for you, so you decide an extra-long lunch break and walk around the block is in order. It’s starting to get warm out, and you know it’s only going to be a matter of weeks before you’re going to have to contend with sticky summer weather alongside a sweltering hot super soldier sleeping next to you. Maybe you should invest in some air con, you muse as you treat yourself to a milkshake from the boujie cafe a few blocks away, sipping it thoughtfully in the sunshine. Because no way is your post-coital cuddle buddy going to want to give that up for three months.

You think about what he asked you last night. I want you to fuck me. You shiver despite the sunshine; you’re not going to lie, the idea of it is pretty hot. He’s giving himself over to you, trusting you with every ounce of control. He wants you to have it. Wants you to see him at his most vulnerable, wants you to make those decisions for him, wants you to make him feel better than he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Fuck. This man loves you with every fibre of his being and the realisation is enough to knock the air out of you, put a permanent smile on your face.

He loves you.

He loves you and he trusts you enough to give you any sense of control he’s had in his life up until now, give it all up to you.

You pull out your phone.

So… I’ve been thinking.

Ominous.

Should I be scared?

I’ll leave you to make that decision, sergeant.

Just thinking about what you said last night.

You know. Logistically.

So to speak.

It takes him a few minutes, and his response makes you rolls your eyes.

Listen, girlie. If you don’t want to do this, it’s ok.

Just forget I ever said anything.

Will you cut it out?

I’m nervous as fuck about it. I’ve never done this before. And I know it’s a big deal for you. So I want it to be right.

I didn’t say no at any point, did I?

You’re back at your office and your desk before the ‘Bucky Barnes is typing message’ finally disappears and you receive his response.

I love you, girlie.

You smile to yourself.

Love you too, sergeant.

*****

Bucky almost dies of embarrassment when you tentatively suggest ordering some toys together, so you take the bull by the horns and do it yourself. You order a fuck ton of lube, a harness, and an accompanying clip-on; you decide on a safe 6.5 inches, reasoning you can always get a bigger one if needs be, and choose one that’s neutrally smooth and plastic as opposed to mimicking an actual dick, Bucky’s comment from the other day ringing in your ears. He brings you a hot drink just as you’ve finished, clicking off your phone and taking it from him gratefully.

‘Thanks.’

‘Welcome.’ He perches on the edge of the sofa, glancing at you awkwardly. ‘So…’

‘I ordered some stuff,’ you say gently. He nods, avoiding your eye. ‘You can obviously take a look when it arrives. See if you like it.’

‘Uh-huh.’ His cheeks are that adorable shade of pink again and you reach out, taking his left hand in yours.

‘It’s ok, baby. It’s just a kink. It’s not a bad thing. What would you say if I said I liked things up the butt?’

He raises his eyebrows and gives you a look. ‘I’d say I’m a lucky guy.’

‘Exactly.’ You wink at him over your tea. ‘No different.’

He rolls his eyes, fidgets a little. ‘You don’t… think any less of me?’

‘Buck.’ You lean forward, put your tea on the coffee table and pull him back into the sofa, manoeuvring so you’re in his lap, hands in his hair. ‘Listen. I don’t think any less of you. I don’t think you’re gay, because newsflash Barnes, doing butt stuff doesn’t make you gay. I don’t think you’re weird and I don’t think you’re a freak. I just think you’re sexually curious and the idea of giving total control to someone else is a real turn on for you.’

‘Yeah,’ he mumbles hotly. ‘It is.’

You shiver, suddenly feeling more than a little wet down below.

‘Ok,’ you say, and your voice only trembles a little with want. ‘So that’s that, then.’

‘What’s that?’ he asks, a shred of humour creeping back into his tone.

‘When - we - do the thing.’

‘The thing.’ He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow in amusement at your awkwardness. You huff in annoyance.

‘Would you prefer I say ‘I fuck you in the ass’?’

He winces. ‘Fair point.’

‘Ok, then. So. Um.’ You look around awkwardly. ‘You wanna - practice - tonight…? Or…?’

He laughs at your stammering, grabs your hips, and you squeal as he lifts you off of him and repositions you both so you’re this close to sitting on his face. He grins up at you coyly.

‘I got other plans for tonight. Plans that involve me showing how much you mean to me.’

He does a pretty fucking good job of doing just that.

*****

You agree to go round to his straight after work a few nights later after your order’s arrived and he’s had a chance to look through it in his own time. He looks fit to burst with nervous energy when he lets you in, dark hair a mess like he’s been constantly running his hands through it. You cup his tight jaw and kiss him lightly.

‘You doing ok there, sergeant?’

‘Yeah.’ He takes a deep breath and loops his arms around your waist, resting them at the small of your back. ‘I love you. I’ve always loved you.’

‘You haven’t,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

He shakes his head, grinning at you. ‘No,’ he says, ‘I think I have.’

‘Whatever, sarg. Come on. Bed.’

He lets you strip him naked, tugging his dark T-shirt off over his head, kissing your way across his collarbones, planting kisses along the rough and raised part where his fake arm joins his shoulder, uneven and bumpy with scar tissue. He shivers as he reaches out with his left hand and ghosts your hip with his fingertips, cool against your skin, and you know by the calm sigh that leaves his body that he appreciates this, appreciates you loving the part of him he’s always been unable to. You reach his sweatpants and tug them off; he’s not wearing anything underneath and his cock stands to full attention already, twitching against his belly, red and shiny at the tip.

‘Look at you, sergeant,’ you murmur, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear. ‘You’re already so desperate for this, aren’t you.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ he mumbles. His voice is thick with arousal, and when you pull away to look at him, there’s a glazed look of complete and total bliss in his eyes. ‘Just for you.’

You cup his balls lightly, hot and heavy, in your palm. ‘All this? For me?’

He closes his eyes, tipping his head back. ‘Uh-huh.’

You try to nudge him onto the bed and he stumbles, sitting down in front of you and gazing up at you in complete and utter adoration as you strip off, standing naked before him.

‘Hi,’ he says, staring at you with pure and unadulterated trust.

‘Hey, sarg.’ You reach forward and run your hands through his hair, and he groans, leaning into your soft touch. ‘You have to tell me if this is too much or if you want to stop. Ok?’

‘’K,’ he mumbles, eyes still closed.

‘Bucky.’

He glances up at you, baby blues soft and full of want. ‘I will. Promise, girlie. Long as you do the same.’

You place a gentle kiss to his pretty pink mouth. ‘I will. So. Um. How do you want to start?’

‘Uh. I was kind of - thinking.’ He stares down at your sternum, clearly finding it easier to talk to your torso than directly at your face, a healthy flush already starting on his skin. ‘Maybe - it would be best to just - start with the - thing. And not do the whole - thing. Build up to that bit. If you want,’ he finishes in a rush.

You bite back a laugh. You’re about to fuck this man and neither of you can say ‘start with the dildo and leave the full-on pegging for another day’. Talk about cringe.

‘Course, baby. Whatever you want.’ You reach down and push his shoulders lightly. ‘Lay back, sarg. You need prep.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

God - he looks so gorgeous like this, all spread out on the bed for you, cheeks pink and breathing already quickening, the head of his pretty cock already weeping with anticipation. He parts his thighs eagerly as you settle between them, and you can’t help but whimper at his enthusiasm, at his unflinching desire to give himself over to you. You grab the lube and spread a sizeable amount on your fingers, before leaning in and licking his dick from base to tip, unable to resist any longer. He gasps in surprise, hands already fisting the bedsheets.

‘Ready?’ you ask, and you’re proud of the way you’re able to control the tremor in your voice.

He nods once, spreading himself just a tiny bit more, just for you.

‘Please,’ he whispers hoarsely. ‘I trust you.’

It’s easier than last time, still just as tight, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s trying to relax, trying to regulate his breathing and unclench his muscles. His hips lift off the bed, desperate for you, gasping as you sink your finger into him up to your second knuckle, stretching him gently.

‘Baby,’ he whines, fisting his hands in the duvet, his chest already heaving. ‘Baby. Fuck I need more.’

‘I know,’ you soothe, ‘I know. Gotta take it slow, baby. Don’t wanna hurt you.’

‘Don’t wanna be slow, wanna be fucked,’ he grumbles.

You giggle at his bratty impatience and work another finger into him, swallowing hard at the way he clamps down on you, watching him with awe as his face screws up and he bites his lower lip, arching his back, eyes screwed shut and nose scrunched up as a stream of disjointed gibberish leaves his throat. A soft red flush has appeared on his cheeks and is starting to migrate down his jaw, a delicate shade that makes him look fucking gorgeous; his chiselled chest rises and falls rapidly, his pink nipples all pretty and hard, and a few beads of sweat have already started to appear in the dip of his collarbone, the lines of his abs. He looks utterly wrecked already and you’ve barely started to give him what he wants - what he needs.

‘You ok, sergeant,’ you murmur. The answering whine is almost sinful, and you wonder what other people would think if they saw the Winter Soldier giving himself over to you so completely, so entirely.

‘Want more,’ he babbles, his lower lip pink from where he’s been biting it, unable to stop himself from grinding his hips down into your hand. You reach up and kiss him and he responds frantically, his lips and tongue uncoordinated, a messy smear of want against your own.

‘I know,’ you murmur, feeling drunk with how much he needs this, needs you, ‘I know.’

You have to get more lube and he groans at the loss of you, reaching down and toying with his dick impatiently, smearing precum over the tip and grunting at the sensation. You bat his hand away and engulf him entirely, taking him as far as you can down your throat, eyes watering as you try to suppress your gag reflex, and the gasp he gives when he hits the back of your throat is nothing short of sinful.

‘Come on,’ he grunts impatiently, squirming beneath you, ‘please, ma’am, come on.’

You smile to yourself - or as much as you can with his dick still down your throat - and push three fingers into him this time, shivering as the ring of muscle flutters around your digits, tight but letting you in. You keep your mouth right where it is and bob up and down, sliding your mouth across his length as far as you can, slicking him up as he writhes lightly beneath you, torn between fucking up into your mouth or down onto your fingers, choking on nicknames and dirty phrases as they fall incoherently from his lips. Your fingers brush against that soft, spongy spot inside of him and his hips stutter, accompanied by a moan you know the neighbours can probably hear; you pull off him quickly, placing one last teasing kiss to his tip.

‘You ready, sergeant,’ you whisper, and he nods wordlessly, groaning as you pull your fingers out once more, scrabbling around so he’s resting on his thick thighs and you’re behind him, sitting up on your knees so you can kiss his neck and shoulders, so you can watch him while he gets himself off.

You’d both decided full-on pegging was probably too much for starters, so you agreed he’d get himself off on the dildo you bought, lube it up and ride it until he came under his own hands, and you’d sit and watch, help out with dirty talk and gentle kisses to his overheated skin. He needed to explore it on his own terms, figure out what exactly he liked, but he felt too intimidated to do it solo, needing the softness of your love, the gentleness of your affection, to find it in himself to keep pushing that envelope until he found his boundaries. He grabs the dildo tucked up under the pillow at the end of the bed - see-through and smooth - and coats it with a generous amount of lube before lifting his broad hips and positioning it on the mattress beneath him.

‘Last chance,’ he pants, throwing his head back so it’s resting on your shoulder. You place a tender kiss on his cheek.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Buck.’

He bites back a whimper. ‘Tell me,’ he pleads. ‘Tell me to do it. Please, baby. Need to hear you.’

You groan, heady with power and arousal, dizzy with the level of trust this broken, beautiful man places in you and only you.

‘Do it, baby. Fuck yourself on your toy.’

It’s all the permission he needs to sink himself down, moaning in relief as he bottoms out on the first try, his chest heaving and thighs already trembling with the promise of his rapidly impending orgasm. You place your hands on his firm hips, encouraging him to keep steady and adjust, just for a moment.

‘You ok, sergeant,’ you murmur softly. ‘How you feeling?’

He throws his head back and whines, the sound echoing across the room, threatening to shatter windows with its rawness. ‘Full,’ he manages. ‘Fuck, I - ‘m so - full. Always wanna be this full. Fuck, baby, please tell me. Tell me what to do.’

You whimper against his shoulder, trying to keep yourself together. You’re so wet from the noises he’s making, noises he’s making just for you, and you feel yourself clench around nothing, momentarily jealous that he gets to be this full and you don’t.

‘Touch yourself. Touch yourself and get yourself off, sergeant. For me.’

‘Uh-huh.’ He rests his head on your shoulder and closes his eyes in relief as he finally reaches for his cock, still slick with your spit and the added precum he can’t seem to keep leaking, practically dumb with want. ‘Uh-huh.’

He sets a brutal pace, his right hand working himself frantically as he lifts his hips and brings them slamming back down on his dildo, unable to stop the constant stream of profanities now spilling from his mouth, and you know this is working for him, know it’s hitting that sweet spot inside of him every time by the way he gives a small, choked sound every time he sinks himself back down into the mattress. He leans back further into you and you have to clench your thighs, steeling yourself against the weight of your six-foot tall, broad as fuck super soldier boyfriend; you keep one hand on his solid hip and move the other up his chest, pinching one of his nipples, and Bucky isn’t usually one for nipple play unless it’s yours, but the gasp he makes when you start is enough motivation for you to keep going, pinching until it’s red and raw and he’s moaning breathily under your touch. You glance up at his face. He looks absolutely fucking beautiful like this: eyes screwed shut, forehead shiny with perspiration, lips parted as he pants, a delicious pink bloom colouring his cheeks and neck, blossoming out across his pectorals.

‘How you doing there, sergeant,’ you murmur. ‘Fuck baby. You look so pretty all stuffed like this. So pretty. How you feeling?’

‘Feels - fuck - so - good.’ He arches his back, pushing out his chest, head lolling back onto your shoulder. ‘Don’t - don’t stop. Wanna - come - so bad - please. I’m so - full.’

He practically wails the last word, his hand flying over his dick now, his hips erratic as he continues to slide up and down on his toy, desperately chasing release as he’s pushed to new heights he’s not scaled before. You reach down and cup his balls, rolling them gently, and he yells out your name, unable to stop, not that you want him to stop, and all you want to do is bottle up this noise - memorise this sight - for the rest of your horny life.

‘I’m gonna come.’ The syllables are forced out of him, barely coherent, loud and desperate as he leans back into you and you feel yourself trembling under his weight.

‘Come on, sergeant,’ you whisper. ‘You can come. You look so pretty right now. You gonna make a pretty mess for me, baby? You gonna come around your little toy?’

‘Yes,’ he keens, ‘yes I am, please, please, let me come, let me come.’

You never want to forget this sight, the sight of this handsome man raw and vulnerable, just for you and only you.

‘It’s ok, Bucky. I’ve got you. You’re safe.’

He practically shouts your name and with one, two more pushes of his hips he’s coming, thick ropes of white hitting his stomach, his chest, his chin, and you keep your hand on his balls and your lips on his neck as he rides out this new high, biting lightly, your own core throbbing with need at the sight of him falling apart so completely in your arms. He looks so beautiful. So raw and vulnerable and exposed, for you and just for you.

He slumps against you as he comes down, grunting lightly as his orgasm trails off. You place your hands on his hips and nudge gently.

‘Buck - I can’t hold you, baby.’

‘Ah - fuck - sorry.’ He shifts himself upright, groaning at the sensation of the dildo still inside of him, and you reach out, holding it in place as he raises himself on shaky thighs, lifting himself off. You can’t help but take a curious look between his legs as he does so, and you feel a rush of wetness between your own thighs at the sight of him slick and loose.

He faceplants the duvet, groaning softly, and you shove the dildo unceremoniously onto the floor. You giggle and lay half on him, half beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and a leg around his waist.

‘You’re getting the sheets all dirty,’ you tease.

‘Don’t care,’ he mumbles. ‘Love you. Love you love you love you.’

He shuffles so he’s nuzzling into the side of your neck, his breath hot and ticklish against your skin. You laugh softly and tease the hair at the nape of his sweaty neck, holding him, this soft man who trusts you with his entire being, who you hold in the palm of your hand.

‘I love you too, my sergeant. I love you too.’

*****

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

Video Calls

When he breaks it to you that he has to go away for three weeks, you sulk with him all evening.

‘Come on, baby,’ he groans. He tries to pull you against him, deliberately draws out the word ‘baby’ in an attempt to tempt you over, but you stubbornly stay sitting on your side of the couch, arms crossed over your chest.

‘It’s not fair,’ you pout. ‘Want you to stay here.’

‘I know. Not my choice, girlie. Gotta go where Sam says we go.’

‘Sam can go fuck himself,’ you grumble.

Bucky chuckles, giving up on pulling you in and shuffling up next to you instead, wrapping his cool left arm around you. ‘Think he does. He’s not lucky like me.’

You roll your eyes. ‘You can keep sweet-talking, Barnes. Doesn’t change the fact you’re leaving me for three weeks.’

‘Yeah,’ he says, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. ‘But I’ll come back.’

‘Not if you get beat up by aliens or bad guys, you won’t.’

He chuckles into your hair. ‘Well - guess I’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen, then.’

*****

One week goes by, then two.

He calls you every day to tell you he’s ok. He didn’t call you the first day because he didn’t get to wherever he needed to get to until 5am and he passed out with exhaustion in his bunker; something he definitely regretted the next evening when he had to soothe your hiccuping self on the phone.

‘I’m ok, girlie. I’m ok.’

‘I didn’t think you were,’ you sniffle. ‘I thought aliens got you.’

He tries to cover up his laugh with a cough.

‘It isn’t funny!’

‘No,’ he says quickly, trying - and failing - to keep the humour out of his voice. ‘No, it isn’t. ‘M sorry, baby girl. I’ll do better next time. Ok?’

‘You better. I only have one of you.’

‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘and thank fuck for that.’

He calls you every day after that, usually in the evenings when you’re curled up in your pyjamas, and he stays on the phone when you curl up in his bed with Alpine, hanging up when you fall asleep. Despite the increasing summer heat, it feels cold in his bed without him, and Alpine gives you a morose meow every morning when you fill her food bowl.

‘I feel ya, girl,’ you sigh. ‘I feel ya.’

*****

He messages you one evening as you’re curled up on his sofa, his T-shirt on.

You up?

Please say you’re up.

Buck, it’s 8pm. Course I’m up.

You ok?

Nothing. Miss you.

You raise an eyebrow, wait for the next message to come in.

Ok, I’m horny as fuck.

Happy?

You roll your eyes, turn off the TV, and hit ‘call’.

‘Please tell me you’re horny as fuck too and I’m not being a creepy old man.’

You laugh into the phone. Still finding his feet when it came to seducing you from afar. ‘I’m horny as fuck too and you’re not being a creepy old man.’

‘Thank fuck. Hey, girlie. How was your day. Yeah, mine was pretty boring too. Yeah, not not much planned tomorrow, either. There - skipped all the beginner shit. Can we cut to the dirty talk now?’

‘Bucky Barnes,’ you giggle. ‘How hard are you right now?’

‘Very hard. Just for you.’

‘Course you are,’ you tease. You keep the phone pressed to your ear as you pad your way through to the bedroom, opening the bottom drawer on what has naturally become your side of the bed.

‘Fuck. You’re opening that fucking drawer, aren’t you.’

You laugh, stick your phone on speaker, tug Bucky’s T-shirt off over your head, settling down on the mattress in just your panties, plain high-rise black ones - you save the fancy shit for when your ex-Avenger is around.

‘Yup. I am. Where’s Sam tonight?’

‘Who gives a fucking fuck?’

‘Me. Sam does not need to hear us having phone sex.’

‘I don’t know, he’s out somewhere. Being all noble and shit with the people. Can we cut to the chase now? Please?’

‘Bucky Barnes,’ you tease, shivering at the whine in his voice. ‘Are you touching yourself already?’

‘Yeah, I am,’ he says, his breath coming out in short, sharp pants. ‘Come on, baby doll. Talk to me.’

You hold your toy in your hand, the curved one that slots inside of you, the other end a vibrator that rests on your clit. The curtains are still open, and the backlight provides a soft lighting that sparks a confidence in your belly you haven’t felt before.

You position the phone on the pillows, sit up on your thighs, give your hair a shake, and hit ‘video’.

It’s a few rings before he answers. His camera, you note, is turned off.

‘Hey.’

‘Fuck.’ His voice is almost awe-struck and you feel yourself inexplicably blushing at the knowledge he’s watching you through the screen, and so intently, too. ‘Fuck, sugar. What did I do to deserve you. Fuck.’

You hum, non-committal, letting some of your hair fall across your face. That confidence in your gut is rapidly going out and you’re starting to feel more awkward than confident sex kitten.

‘Hey.’ His voice is soft, gentle. ‘Don’t be going all shy on me, you.’

‘Well,’ you huff. ‘Where are you?’

‘Ah - I - dunno what button it is.’

You burst out laughing. ‘Fuck’s sake, Buck.’

‘What? Old man over here.’ A pause, then: ‘Do you want to stop?’

‘Do you?’ you ask shyly.

‘No - fuck, no. I could sit and watch you all day, sugar, you know that. Just - depends what you want. What you’re comfortable with.’

‘And so the student becomes the master,’ you drawl.

He chuckles lowly. ‘If that’s what you’re into, baby girl.’

‘More like what you’re into, sergeant.’

You can practically hear the smile in his voice. ‘There she is.’

You giggle, glance down at the vibrator in your hand.

‘New?’

‘No,’ you say. ‘Just - not used in a while. Meant to be a couples’ one.’

‘Ok, and I haven’t heard of this before because…?’

‘I don’t know. Didn’t want to scare you off.’

‘Gonna take more than a couple of vibrators to scare me off, sugar.’

‘Thanks, sergeant.’ You flick it on, sitting in silence for a moment, letting him get used to the sound of it. ‘It has fourteen different settings.’

‘Shall I just quit now?’

‘I mean - it’s a bit dinky. Doesn’t fill me up like you do.’

When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth.

‘No one can fill you up like I do, baby.’

You feel a hot shiver of arousal run through you. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘Do you want to stop?’ he murmurs, his tone still low, still honied and sweet, just for you.

You glance down at yourself, skin soft and pretty - even if you do say so yourself - in the setting sunlight, nipples already pebbled with arousal, a definite low thump humming consistently in between your legs.

‘No, I - I want to keep going. But I might - I might keep these on. If that’s ok.’

‘Course, baby.’ You could lose yourself in that voice, sinfully low, sinfully sweet. ‘Whatever feels good.’

You lean awkwardly back to your bedside table, grab the bottle of lube stashed away in there, slick up the end of your toy. You don’t think you really need it - you feel weirdly excited, a nervous kind of energy running through you at the thought of putting on a show for this man - but you reason it’s better to have too much lube than not enough. You slip it into the front of your panties, trying not to screw up your face too much as you manoeuvre it inside of you, tight and wanting, the vibration humming deliciously against your clit, the inside resting firmly against your g-spot. You gasp, push your hips a little, resting both hands on the bed beside you.

‘Feel ok?’

‘Uh-huh.’ You sit back a bit, leaning back slightly, sighing as the vibrator nudges ever so slightly further into your g-spot. ‘Wish it was you.’

‘I know, honey, I know. Me too.’

‘What are you doing right now?’ The vibrations feel really good against your hot spot and you sigh in contentment, the base of your tummy already feeling hot.

‘Watching you. Thinking how hot my girl is, putting on a show for me. You thinking about me, baby girl? Thinking it’s me inside of you, making you all nice and full?’

‘Bucky.’ You feel yourself clench around your toy, a warm flood of arousal coursing through you at his words. ‘Don’t - not yet.’

‘Why not, baby? Don’t you like thinking about me filling you with my baby?’

‘I - ah, fuck. I do. I just - I’ll come too quick.’

He chuckles, low and deep, and it makes you shiver, makes you fumble in the front of your underwear to flick up the intensity of your toy.

‘Just have to get you off again, then, won’t I.’

You whine pathetically, moving your hips up and down, leaning back further on your hands so the toy presses perfectly on your g-spot and the vibrations continue to ripple deliciously over your clit. Your face is hot and you can feel your breasts bouncing slightly with each movement, wishing Bucky was here to pinch, nip, suck at your nipples like he does, fucking worshipping your breasts until you’re tender and raw, and the next day you have to wear your softest bra.

‘Feel good?’ he murmurs.

‘Uh-huh.’ God you can’t help but flush at the thought of how needy you probably look right now, sweaty and red and horny, but you’re past the point of caring, a tight coil building at the base of your spine, in the pit of your stomach, and it’s been way too fucking long since Bucky left and you’re never going to last if he keeps talking to you like that, his delicious Brooklyn accent creeping in around the edges of his words.

‘C’mon, honey. Keep going. Just wanna show off for me, don’t ya? Wanna show off your pretty self and how you get off on your pretty toy.’ He gives a stuttering gasp on his end, and you cry out in response, imagining him fisting himself - all hard and wet and wanting - in response to watching you. ‘Not gonna get you knocked up, is it, honey, but it’s the best you can do without me there, isn’t it sugar?’

Your answering whine is needy, your cunt clenching around your toy as you start to grind yourself down on it, reaching for a pillow and showing it between your legs in a daze. The extra pressure, minimal as it is, is blissful, and you start a steady pace against it, flicking your toy up another setting, grimacing as you feel how fucking drenched you are just at the sound of his voice.

‘Ah,’ he chokes, ‘baby. My baby. You need it, don’t ya, doll? Need to be fucked so bad. I can do that for ya, doll face. Can fuck you so good, get you all big and round with my baby.’

‘Bucky,’ you gasp. You lean forward, shifting the angle of the toy in front of you, reaching up and pressing it firmer against your clit, wishing it was him, wishing it was his mouth and lips and tongue. ‘Bucky, come on.’

You’re so wet you can hear the slick slides of the toy as it moves against you, and you know by Bucky’s responding curse he can hear them, too.

‘Fuck, baby doll. That all for me? You that wet for me?’

‘Yes,’ you cry, and that feeling in your tummy is fit to fucking burst, ‘yes I am, please, Bucky, come on -‘

‘Keep going, sugar. Keep going ‘til ya finish, make those pretty noises for me, come on, honey, let me know how much you need me, how much you need me to come inside of you -‘

The coil bursts and you shudder as the blissful sensation overtakes your body, leaving you gasping and choking on his name, your slick cunt clenching around nothing and you whimper at the thought of being full, being full of him when you come like this. You hear him gasp, hear the telltale squelch of his hand as he works himself, and you make a note to tease him later, tease him for packing lube like he planned a little rendezvous like this all along.

‘Baby,’ he gasps. He’s close, so close, you can tell by the little stuttery sounds that leave his throat, the constant nicknames spilling from his lips. ‘Honey - sugar - fuck, just - please - can you show me - show me a little something. Please.’

‘What do you need,’ you murmur, fumbling to turn the vibrator off as it buzzes against your oversensitive skin. You’re still dazed by the intensity of your orgasm, soft and pliant and with an aching need for this man to feel the same way you do.

The groan he gives as you fumble your fingers inside your damp underwear is nothing short of guttural. ‘You. Please, just - can you just - take them off. Please. Please.’

You whimper in equal parts mortification and arousal, shifting and lifting your shaking thighs as you work your embarrassingly wet panties down and off the side of the bed, leaving the toy inside of you, the black head of the toy curving gently out of you and resting on your clit. You hear him gasp and you boldly decide to lean back, spread your legs a little, so he can see exactly what he does to you.

‘Sugar,’ he breathes. ‘Fuck, sugar, you’re so fucking gorgeous, baby, fuck, I - fuck -‘

And you know by the grunts he gives that he’s coming, coming at the sight of you and you alone.

There’s a peaceful silence after, punctuated only by the sounds of the pair of you trying to catch your breath.

‘So,’ he says, and you can’t help but giggle at how hoarse he sounds. ‘Will you show me how to turn this fucking camera on when I get back?’

‘Course I can, old man.’ You shift slightly and cringe at the cooling wetness coating the vibrator between your legs, and you hear him chuckle.

‘While you’re at it,’ he practically purrs, ‘you can show me show that thing works as well.’

*****

Chapter Text

Bonus Chapter

The P Word

He’s gone for another couple of weeks, and when he gets back, it’s in the dead of night. You let out a squeal of fright as he crawls into bed beside you, looping his left arm around your waist, the sudden coolness waking you from your slumber.

‘’S’ok,’ he groans, ‘’S’ok. It’s me.’

‘Fuck’s sake, Buck.’ You take a few calming breaths, trying to get your heartbeat under control, and curl up against his chest. ‘Wake me next time.’

He mutters something that sounds vaguely sarcastic as he pulls you against him, the tension leaving body almost immediately.

‘Quit whining, sarg, and go to sleep.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ Then, after a pause: ‘Move in with me.’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

*****

You leave him in bed with Alpine the next morning and head off to work, not before he circles his arms around your waist and tries to pulls you back into bed.

‘Please girlie,’ he groans. ‘Stay.’

‘I have to go to work, sergeant,’ you say. You try to disentangle yourself from his hold and he just ends up pulling you on top of him, your clothed form on top of his naked one.

‘See? We could just spend all day like this.’ He runs his hands up and down your sides, his fingertips frisky with want.

‘Just like this?’ you tease, wiggling your hips atop of his already half-hard cock.

‘Mmm. To start with, at least. With less clothes on,’ he adds, giving your top a little tug.

You giggle, bend forward and kiss him deeply. ‘I’ll see you tonight. Keep the bed warm for me, will ya?’

‘Long as you promise you’ll be back here naked by 5pm.’

‘Promise, sarg. Promise.’

*****

It’s mid-morning when he messages you.

Is it 5pm yet?

Six hours to go, sergeant.

Fuck’s sake.

Just pull a sickie. Everyone else does.

What, so I can spend all day in bed with my sex-obsessed super soldier?

Uh, yeah. Thought I made that obvious.

Have some patience, mister. It’s Friday. We can spend the next two days in bed together.

Besides. You got bigger thinks to think about than your dick.

Impossible as that seems.

Shucks. Thanks girlie.

What have I got to think about, then?

Whether you want to live in my flat or me live in yours.

He doesn’t respond for a bit, and you finally call him when you’re out on your lunch break, anxious you’ve said something to scare him off.

‘Hey, girlie,’ he says when he picks up, but you cut him off straight away.

‘Did I scare you?’

‘Uh,’ he says. ‘No…?’

‘Because if I did, you can back out. If you still want to live on your own and have your own space. I know we haven’t been together super long and maybe we’ve been moving too fast but -‘

‘Hey hey - slow down, girlie. Take a breath.’

‘Fuck’s sake.’ You try to consciously slow your pace and inhale deeply through your nose, slowly through your mouth. ‘There. Happy?

‘A bit. You gonna tell me what this is about?’

You groan and pinch the bridge of your nose. ‘I’m scared I’m - pressuring you.’

‘You know I’m the one who asked you to move in, right?’

‘Yes,’ you say, ‘I know. I just - you didn’t respond right away, and - I got - scared.’

There’s a long, long pause. ‘Baby,’ he says slowly. ‘Look. I’m not used to this. Ok? Responding and - messaging? Or whatever. I’m - gonna fuck up. And - leave you on read, or whatever the kids fucking call it. You just - gotta call me. Ok? Talk to me. Please.’

You shake your head, feeling yourself flush in the midday sun. ‘Ok, old man,’ you try to say lightly. ‘If you stop being a technophobe, I’ll stop being a needy millennial.’

‘Hey. You’re not being needy.’

‘I am.’ Despite his reassuring tone, you find yourself sniffling pathetically. ‘Thanks, sergeant.’

‘Don’t sweat it, girlie. Come on. Four hours to go.’

‘Hey. You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘And what question was that?’ he asks, light, teasing.

‘Whether you’d prefer my place or yours ‘

‘Yours,’ he says, without hesitation.

‘Yeah?’ you say, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest. ‘Why?’

‘Because it feels like home.’

*****

When you get back to yours that evening, he isn’t naked in bed, but in the kitchen dishing up dinner, and the way he puts a hand around your waist and gives your behind an affectionate squeeze makes you feel all kinds of giggly.

‘Hey, girlie.’ His lips are soft and affectionate against yours. ‘Good day?’

‘Even better now,’ you grin, taking his left hand in yours.

*****

You tidy up after dinner and afterwards he drags you down the hallway to your bedroom, making you squeal when he stops halfway and picks you up, carrying you to the bed. He places you in the centre of the mattress and you both laugh, full of unending affection for the other person.

‘Thank you,’ he says softly. He traces along the line of your jaw with his left hand and you shiver.

‘What for?’

‘Everything.’

You don’t know if you’ve ever been kissed like this before, kissed like he would change the world if you asked him to.

You strip each other down, kissing scraps of bare skin as they become exposed, laughing softly when one of you finds a sensitive spot that makes the person shiver with want. He’s hard already and when you pull his boxers off and start to kiss his way down his firm chest, he catches you, looking at you with an expression of pure, uncut desire.

You know, even without asking, what he wants - what he needs.

‘You’re sure?’

He nods, pulling you on top of him so you’re sitting across his broad hips.

‘Long as you are.’

You kiss him, almost chastely. Your sergeant. His girlie, his honey, sugar, baby, and whatever other nickname he feels like calling you in the heat of the moment.

You move so you’re sitting between his thighs instead of on them, starting with one generously lubed finger and teasing him, rubbing back and forth across his entrance until he gives a grunt of frustration.

‘Come on,’ he grunts, lifting his hips slightly from the bed. ‘Fuckin’ - tease.’

‘Wouldn’t have me any other way, sergeant,’ you giggle, pushing your finger in without hesitation, and he gasps, spreading his legs just a little more, arching his back, practically bursting at the seams with sweet anticipation. You wonder vaguely how long he’s going to last and gently work another finger inside, massaging his tight walls, stretching him with ease - not long, you think, given the way he’s already moaning, breath escaping his pink lips in sharp little pants, dick already leaking precum over his lower belly.

‘Yes, come on baby doll, yes, please, yes.’

He tries to reach for you, tries to give himself something to anchor to, groaning when you stay just out of touching distance, leaving him to fist the sheets instead as he grinds down into your hand.

‘Fuck, sergeant,’ you breathe, feeling as slick as you know he does between your thighs, ‘you look so pretty like this.’

And he does, red and sweaty and wanton, chest heaving although you’ve barely started, moaning up to the ceiling with abandon, and it’s for you, it’s all for you.

A third finger, and he gives without resistance, that tightness easing until he reaches down and grabs your wrist, stilling your movements.

‘Any more and I’m finished,’ he manages, and you swallow hard, watching his face as you withdraw your hand, watch him wince and bite his lower lip, stifling that needy sound threatening to escape from his throat. You reach over and under the bed, grabbing the harness and accompanying equipment, suddenly feeling very shy as you stare at the straps.

‘Will you help me?’

He sits up, cups your chin, kisses you softly.

‘Course.’

It takes a few minutes to work out where everything goes - which is probably for the best given how close Bucky is to bursting at the slightest touch - and when you’re done you can’t help but both laugh at the sight, how ridiculous you look with the clear length of silicone sticking proudly out of you. He glances at you shyly, cheeks pink, rogue strands of hair falling across his face.

‘Sorry this is weird.’

‘It isn’t weird, baby,’ you reassure him. ‘Different. Not weird.’

He takes a deep breath and nods, helping you to lube up, before you pat his firm hip.

‘Hands and knees, sergeant.’

‘Ah,’ he groans, closing his eyes briefly. ‘Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me.’

He does as you ask, and fuck he looks like he was made to be in this position, his shoulders flexed, beads of sweat already gathering across the small of his back. He lifts his head and groans as you sit up on your thighs and line yourself up with his entrance.

‘Can we - go slow,’ he pants. ‘Like - really slow.’

‘Thought you wanted to be fucked, sergeant,’ you murmur, and he moans weakly, head dropping back down towards the sheets, and you can see how tightly he’s gripping them in his fists, trying to retain some semblance of control.

‘I also wanna last more than twenty seconds,’ he grumbles. You laugh and lean forward, rubbing your hands across his tight shoulders.

‘I’ve got you,’ you coo.

‘I know, honey. I know.’

The whine he gives when you push into him is fucking delicious, high-pitched and desperate, and the rush you feel as you stretch him is goddamn indescribable, watching him tremble with a heady mix of arousal and desire beneath you. You continue slowly, oh-so-slowly to enter him, giving him plenty of time to breathe and adjust, but you’re barely inside him when he yelps for you to stop, lifting his head and gasping in lungfuls of air.

‘Bucky,’ you soothe, hands on his firm hips, rubbing circles into them, just as he would for you. ‘It’s ok. I got you.’

‘Fuck,’ he pants. ‘Fuck, I - I just - just need a minute.’

You reach out and run a reassuring hand through his hair, tugging gently. ‘Whatever you need, baby.’

He takes a few shuddering breaths as you continue to run your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, trying to ground him as every last ounce of control he has threatens to slip away.

‘Ok,’ he manages. ‘Ok, I - I can keep going.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Uh-huh. Just -‘ He moans and tips his head back into your touch - ‘just might not last.’

‘That’s ok,’ you murmur, ‘that’s ok.’

You keep pushing, your pace glacial, watching him for any signs of resistance, any signs of pain, pausing every inch to let him adjust until your hips are finally flush against his, and he lets out the most gorgeous groan, raw and needy, so far gone on pleasure he can no longer formulate words.

‘I’m gonna move now, ok?’ you murmur, and he nods, the back of his neck flushed bright red, the colour spreading slowly along his shoulders and back.

You pull your hips away, not fully, just enough so you can push back into him, and he whispers a broken ‘fuck’ when you’re flush against his ass once more. You repeat the sensation, pulling back just a little further this time, and you’re not sure if the answering whine he gives is one of pleasure or pain, so you freeze, hands gripping his sides.

‘You ok?

‘Yes,’ he moans, shoving himself back against you, ‘yes, just - don’t stop, please don’t stop - gonna come, gonna fucking come.’

You lean down, press your lips against his sweaty neck as you start a slow, shallow rhythm, nervous of hurting him, watching every twitch of his muscles, every tense of his shoulders for any sign of discomfort. He gives a breathless ‘uh’ every time you push back into him, like the sensation is forcing the sound from him, like he’s incapable of saying anything else, and you wonder how intense the feeling for him must be to render babbling sex talker Bucky Barnes speechless, whether it’s because you’re hitting his prostrate just right every time, whether it’s the overwhelming feeling of fullness, or whether it’s trusting himself so completely with another person - or maybe it’s a heady combination of all three.

It’s not long before he starts to meet you thrust for thrust, pushing back into you until finally you still yourself and let him set the desperate pace he needs, naughty wet sounds echoing off the walls as he fucks himself against you. He’s all whimpers and whines, shoulders trembling, back arching, breath heaving, and you can hear his dick slapping against his lower belly with every impatient thrust.

‘You’re doing so good, sergeant,’ you coo. You run your hands over his lower back, his skin hot and damp with perspiration.

‘Tell me,’ he practically yelps, ‘tell me what to do.’

You know what he’s asking for. How are you supposed to deny him when he looks this pretty, all because of you and what you’re doing to him?

‘Touch yourself, sergeant. That’s an order.’

He moans loudly, his cries music to your ears, before he leans all his upper body weight on his left arm and fumbles for his dick, his rhythm erratic now, torn between fucking himself onto you and fucking himself into his hand. He’s huffing out broken half-sentences, choking on the sounds, his eyes screwed shut as he chases his high with single-minded determination, and when you run your hands over his overheated body, you can feel the quake in his thighs, the tightness in his abs, the heaviness in his balls as his orgasm builds with an intensity that’s threatening to break him.

‘You ok, Buck?’ you ask, suddenly nervous, suddenly afraid you’re - somehow - going to hurt this super soldier, but he only lets out a fragmented groan in response.

‘G-good, so - fuckin’ - f-full, don’t - fuckin’ - stop - I wanna come so bad,’ he wails, and you take pity on him and reach your hand down, gently nudging his out of the way, biting your lip at how slick his dick is, slick with precum and a steady dribble of lube escaping from inside of him and gathering at his base. He cants forward, resting on his forearms, forehead pressed to the mattress, ass up in the air, trying to take you deeper, and the sight of him practically presenting to you is enough to make your cunt clench around nothing, feeling suddenly incredibly slick yourself.

‘You don’t have to hold back, baby,’ you coo. ‘You can come. You can come for me.’

He huffs out a broken, impatient sound, and you know he’s close, right on the edge, desperately thrusting back onto you, and you can hear the dirty squelching sounds as you fuck him open, feel him shiver every time you brush over that sweet spot that makes him see stars.

‘Please, ma’am. Please please please.’

He needs to hear you say it, needs your instruction and your permission.

‘Come, sergeant. Make a pretty mess on yourself.’

And he does, the answering moan he gives loud and high and fractured as his dick jerks in your palm, hot wetness spilling over your hand and over the sheets below, and you keep your hands on him, unapologetically milking him as you help him through his orgasm, squeezing his balls and pumping his shaft and fucking his ass until he’s squirming beneath you with overstimulation. You discreetly wipe your fingers on the sheets below, wishing you’d had the foresight to bring a towel, before placing them gently on his hips.

‘I’m gonna pull out now baby, ok?’

‘’K,’ he mumbles, sounding drunk and dazed. You pull out of him slowly, feeling a literal rush of arousal gush down south as you a glance at the sight between his thighs, spread open and slick all because of you. He grunts inelegantly as his shaking thighs give way; you lean forward and press a light kiss to the small of his back, both of you laughing breathlessly as your toy rudely nudges his ass cheek.

‘Lemme go take this off and I’ll be back, ok?’

‘Uh-huh.’

It takes you a few minutes - fucking straps - before you make your way back to Bucky, washcloth in hand. He hasn’t moved, groaning in protest as you gently push him over.

‘Was comfy,’ he protests.

‘Comfy and covered in cum.’

‘And…?’

You giggle at his crudeness, blushing as you run the washcloth up his tummy. He catches your wrist as you start to pull away, and his eyes are filled with appreciation, awe, and a level of devotion you’ve never seen another person give you before.

‘Marry me.’

The noise you make in response is definitely not sexy or cute.

‘Bucky Barnes,’ you splutter.

‘’M serious. Marry me.’

‘Sarg -‘

‘No, listen.’ He heaves himself upright, holding your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over your jaw. ‘I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.’

‘I know,’ you giggle. ‘I know.’

‘You don’t know,’ he insists. ‘You don’t know. I’d go through all that shit I’ve been through ten times over if it meant I got to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t imagine you not being there. Can’t imagine coming home to an empty flat or an empty bed. I want this. I want this forever.’

‘Buck,’ you say, and you can feel your bottom lip trembling, because you never thought you’d have something like you have with him.

‘Please say yes,’ he murmurs, ‘please.’

You laugh, the sound shaky with joy and emotion. ‘On one condition.’

‘Name it,’ he says, and your heart almost bursts at the eagerness on his face, eagerness to do anything for you.

‘You get me a ring and do it properly. You proposing to me after I’ve just fucked you up the butt is not the proposal story I’m telling my parents.’

He grins at you, nothing short of joy on his face.

‘Deal.’

-fin-