Work Text:
You were awoken by a very loud metallic bang.
Sitting up, you immediately began to grope the bedside table for access to the middle drawer and the weapon inside. Right as your fingers wrapped around the cool metal there was another, more quiet crash. That sound was followed by a familiar voice exclaiming “fuck.”
Your shoulders sank in relief. Closing the drawer, you instead reached for your phone and checked the time - 4:00. You pushed down the warm duvet and proceeded to quietly walk to the kitchen. As anticipated, Bucky was standing near the counter, covered in flour. His gaze was trained at the overturned steel bowl, measuring cup, all laying on the floor.
“Do you need some help with this?” You covered up a laugh with a cough. Even in the dim light, it was apparent Bucky’s brow was furrowed, and he was not smiling. When he looked up, there was a grimace tugging at his lips.
“Sorry to wake you,” Bucky closed his eyes tightly for a moment, body tensing. The stress was radiating off him as he waited for some sort of angry exchange that never came.
“It’s ok, this happens. I was worried someone had broken in here – what are you making at 4 in the morning?” It was early, even for him. Bucky’s body relaxed and he let out a quiet sigh. He should have known better that you of all people wouldn’t yell at him.
“I,” he paused, feeling guilty. Your gaze met his, face showing only a combination of sleepiness and curiosity. “Couldn’t sleep and thought I could do something nice for you for once. New therapist, she recommended getting into baking or cooking.” He frowned before looking back down at the bowl and avoiding your gaze, “but I apparently can’t do it right.”
With even his ears feeling warm, Bucky risked a glance at you. You were admittedly adorable standing there in your thin t-shirt and very short pajama bottoms. He wished this would have gone off without a hitch and that he could have simply surprised you instead of making a mess. Some super soldier, couldn’t hold onto a damn mixing bowl and flour bag when thinking about a woman.
“What do you mean nice for me for once, Bucky you’re a perfect gentleman,” you stifled a yawn and frowned. This had been a difficult week with bad information nearly setting the two of you back on this mission. If you hadn’t read a book for fun about an ancient society way outside the scope of the reported expertise needed for the mission - the cover would have been blown. You assumed the guilt had been gnawing at him. No matter how many times you’d proven your worth as an unfortunate science experiment (having been enhanced by a psychotic S.H.I.E.L.D – Hydra – doctor after being injured on an excavation), Bucky preferred to make use of your graduate degrees rather than anything else you could offer. Admittedly you couldn’t blame him, Yelena was still kicking your ass in training. The real reason you were working for the “New Avengers” was to help with a variety of different research needs and to help the group “behave like people instead of animals” – Val’s words. You didn't like her.
“You’ve made all the meals this whole week,” he replied flatly, avoiding discussing any of the mission. “I should help out more.”
“Bucky you’ve done all the dishes. I like to cook and bake,” you shook your head and approached him sympathetically. “I’ll get a broom.”
“No- I’ve got it” Bucky’s voice was raspy with exasperation. He looked at you and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let what happened at the auction affect us.”
Us. The word made your stomach flutter. For the last mission, you posed as an antiquities buyer while he monitored what transpired remotely. It significantly worsened your crush on Bucky. While the two of you were friends (having bonded over him walking in on your Autumn rewatch of the 1931 King Kong) you hadn’t spent that much alone time with him. It was still only the two of you. The rest of the team was out on a different mission.
“Are you trying to make cinnamon rolls? I can help with that,” you offered, surveying the other ingredients on the counter. Cinnamon, sugar, yeast, milk, butter. “I can teach you. And next time we can start with an overnight recipe,” you shot him a hopeful look, promising him everything would be alright.
Bucky sighed. He couldn’t say no to your offer and shook his head yes. God, you looked so pretty. “Fine, yeah,” he grumbled out then grinned despite himself. He did have it bad. Sam had told him to just for it, to kiss you or ask you out, do anything other than “accidentally” watch movies together or lurk. Life was too short not to, something along those lines. Banal words for a deep-seated fear of losing another person, or worse, being outright rejected. He guessed you liked the academic type.
“Great!” You brightened, interrupting his spiral. You flicked the overhead lights’ switch, changing the low light level into something blinding for a moment. Bucky did a faux wince before shaking his head at how energetically you were approaching the task.
“Do you have a recipe in mind?”
“Uh, yeah,” he gestured to a cookbook on the table. “I hope you don’t mind; it was sitting out and-”
“Please, what’s mine is yours,” you said before realizing the possible double entendre. He looked at for a moment, causing you to duck your head while biting your lip.
Now that, Bucky caught. He liked that look on your face, the flush rising on your cheeks. He’s seen it at many a dance, usually prior to a night of some kind of – mischief, he chided himself.
“Ok professor, show me what to do,” Bucky smiled warmly, making your stomach do a flip. He walked to get the broom and more flour.
“Thank you!” You called, bringing the supplies out to the kitchen. “I’ll grab the rest. We can start with measuring the ingredients in the recipe there – we want to get everything assembled in a mise en place -”
“A what?” Bucky could understand French but did not discern the meaning of what was being said.
“Mise en place, it’s French cooking term. Everything in its place, it’s the set up for food prep. Helps the process go smoothly. I’ll show you how to level flour correctly as well,” you replied.
“Yes ma’am,” Bucky admired the new confident tone in your voice. He watched you you tie up your hair, and thought about kissing your neck. Such a simple gesture was so provocative.
“What?” You asked innocently, feeling his gaze on you. He was making you burn up from across the room with how his eyes sharpened.
“Nothing, just enjoying you taking charge here,” the corner of his lip turned up. “You’re an expert.”
“Thanks Mr. Barnes” you rolled your eyes, touching your hair nervously for a moment, “turn the oven on the proof setting for me please, I’m going to start whisking the dry ingredients.”
He gave you a faux salute, “yes ma’am.”
Bucky loved watching you work, the small expressions of concentration and satisfaction. Every step in the recipe was explained thoroughly. You met his gaze each time, searching for any confusion or hesitation. He liked when you’d touched his hands to help him knead the dough and roll it out.
“And now, we wait. They need to proof but it’ll be over in roughly an hour,” you slid the tray into the warmed oven. You turned to him, “I’m going to make some coffee and cut up some fruit. I don’t think we have a percolator but would a pour over do?”
Bucky stared at you for a moment, sure that if he blinked he would wake himself up from a dream.
“Whatever is easiest,” he choked out, unused to this kind of treatment. “I’ve gotten pretty used to drip coffee.”
“Used to and prefer are two different things, which do you prefer?” You replied, watching him open his mouth, close it, and then say softly, “fair point.”
“So pour over, no problem,” you nodded your head before reaching for the coffee, filters, and pour over device. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence. Bucky began clearing off the counter from the early round of cinnamon roll prep, cleaning so whatever you wanted to do next would be easier. You poured him a mug, before making a cup for yourself.
“You take your coffee black, correct? Sorry, should have asked” you said despite knowing exactly how he took it.
“Yeah thanks. And thanks for all of this. I couldn’t have done this without you, my mom would yell at us to get out of the kitchen and stop bothering her,” Bucky looked up at the ceiling, smiling. He could smell the baking bread rolls, the various cabbage dishes, and feel the warmth of that room for a moment. He looked back down at you, not afraid to revel in the nostalgia. He’d lost her when he was very young, but those memories were intact.
“Mine put me to work. And my grandma had me using a mandolin at age four. The things that take fingers off?” you wiggled your fingers in front of him while pointing the knife in your other hand downward. “I was lucky.”
“Sounds like it,” he shook his head. “Your mom still around?”
“Yeah, still around and still confused at what I did for a living. At least she stopped asking if I was finding any dinosaurs.” You set the bowl of fruit down. Bucky looked at you, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s paleontology – archaeology is people and stuff. So is anthropology, which is what my degrees are in, but in the US, archaeology is a subfield of that-”
“Wait what?” Bucky stared at you for a second. Your cheeks grew warm, a familiar feeling of shame creeping in.
“Oh I’m sorry I can stop,” you apologized. He wasn’t a student; he was the fucking Winter Soldier.
“No, we have an hour at least til they’re ready, I just need more coffee. Please, I want to hear everything about these ologies,” he waved his hand vaguely, rescuing you from your embarrassment. Bucky didn’t say anything for a moment, taking a sip of coffee. Then he turned his head and smiled.
“Ok professor, shoot.”
“Paleontology, we think of dinosaurs right? Jurassic Park? Did anyone here show you that movie or did you read the book yet?”
He looked at you blankly.
“We’re going to need to watch Jurassic Park,” you told him, pinching your face into a very serous expression. “But there’s more than just dinosaurs, it’s prehistoric life and ecosystems. All sorts of ancient animals and plants.” You paused, “archaeology, that’s ancient people and their artifacts – the things they made.”
“Like in Indiana Jones,” Bucky’s face lit up. He laughed at the incredulous expression on your face.
“How have you seen that and not Jurassic Park?” Crossing your arms, you stared at him in confusion. He tapped the wooden breakfast table twice in thought and then said,
“Yeah, Sam showed me. Punching Nazis.”
You sighed; the conversation having veered dangerously close to your dissertation and you’d need to cut yourself off. “This is a whole other can of worms, Jones is a looter, the Nazis’ stealing stuff is based in reality – I wrote a 600 page book on that - but yeah. Ancient stuff. We don’t just take artifacts, it’s a lot more recording, careful digging, and paperwork.”
Bucky’s eyes popped open, “600 pages?”
“It’s my dissertation, it’s long, maybe 30 people have read it. I love academia.”
Bucky nodded, making a mental note to ask you more about it. “And Anthropology?”
“Anthropology, the study of people. In the US it is 4 subfields, that archaeology I just mentioned,” you paused waiting for him to nod in response.
When he did you took another breath, “there’s cultural, where you’re studying living people and their traditions, linguistic which is culture and language, and then biological which involves human evolution, variation, and our primate cousins.”
He sighed taking another cup of coffee. “You’re too smart for me.”
“Don’t say that. This is first year Anthropology. You bring your own pens and pencils on missions, you’re way ahead of a freshman in college,” you tapped his arm lightly for a moment, hoping it wasn’t too far. Bucky grinned at you.
“Well you’re teaching me everything, what can I teach you?” He leaned backwards, stretching.
You thought about asking for more fighting lessons, opening your mouth but at the last minute decided that would be a terrible idea. “Dancing!”
It was the first thing that popped into your head. Last night you and Bucky had watched White Christmas since it was so close to the holidays, and you were both too wound up to sleep since coming back from the mission. Since it came out in the 1950s, he’d never seen it. You wondered briefly how many films Sam had shown him before realizing he was staring at you.
Nice save, stupid you thought to yourself. Now he probably thinks you’re desperate.
“Dancing?” Bucky set his coffee mug down, eyebrows raised in surprise. He brought a hand to his face, resting on it in thought.
“Yeah, I’m a terrible dancer. I’m guessing you probably are pretty good? I’m basing this on old movies, please save me from myself,” you gulped down your coffee.
“I’m a-” he paused, “fair dancer. I’m not Fred Astaire but I can show you some steps,” he stood up and held out his hand. “Come on.”
“Bucky I am really terrible,” you warned, feeling embarrassed already. That didn’t stop you from taking his hand though.
“When’s the last time you danced?” He pulled you to him, smiling all the while.
“Over ten years ago,” you replied with a near audible swallow. He smelled like the coffee and cinnamon, along with a deeper scent of amber from a cologne or aftershave.
“Well, that was before all this, right?” He didn’t need to elaborate.
“Right,” you felt his vibranium arm tighten around your waist.
“Then don’t worry, you’ll get it,” he squeezed your hand, enjoying the feeling of finally getting to hold you in his arms, if only for a moment.
“Don’t we need music?” you asked, trying to sound unbothered. He smiled softly, “not just yet just let me count.”
The best things, happen while you’re dancing Danny Kaye’s voice sounded in your head as Bucky counted patiently. Thinking of White Christmas and how Vera Ellen twirled in Danny’s arms, you smiled.
Bucky took it slow, wanting you to trust yourself. He led gently but kept a firm hand around your waist for this simple little waltz. When you stopped needing to look down at your feet, he decided to move onto the second stage.
“Now we’re going to do a couple basic swing steps,” he smiled. “This I want music for.”
“The Andrews Sisters?”
His eyes lit up.
“I had mandolin grandma, remember” you smiled at him. “She was a WAC in the 40s. Passed away at 106 so she raised me a fair chunk of my childhood.”
“Perfect,” he smiled, bringing up his phone from the table and finding a play list. “We’re starting with this – step, step, step, step-together,” you mimicked his actions until his satisfaction. At this point, the room had grown hotter and not from the proofing oven. Bucky handled you with ease.
“Good. Now a rock step.”
This time, instead rock stepping, you mis-stepped, stumbling a little but were caught instantly in his strong arms.
“I’ve got you sweetheart,” the term of endearment came too fast, too naturally. Before he could say something – an apology – he saw the rapt look on your face. Your pupils were wide and lips looked so soft.
Bucky was only a man after all.
He leaned down to kiss you. To his delight, he felt you sink closer, pressing yourself to him.You met his lips softly, kissing him back and feeling your heart flutter. Bucky suddenly dipped you, eliciting a small gasp of surprise.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I won’t drop you” Bucky smirked before kissing you with more fervor. Heat spread throughout your body and when he pulled a way for a moment, your eyes were shining.
“Did all your dances end this way?” you laughed as he pulled you up.
“More than a fair few,” he looked up at the ceiling again for a moment before smiling back.
“I can see why,” you squeezed his arm.
He moved into a gentle, simple, stepless slow dance, rubbing little circles on your back. He closed his eyes, savoring the softness of the moment.
When the timer went off, he groaned.
“I’ve got this” you murmured, slipping out of his arms for a moment, leaving him reluctantly empty-handed. You moved the proofing buns to the counter, keeping them covered and turned the oven on.
“It won’t take too long for the pre-heat; we can pop them in after. And work on the frosting while they’re going” you turned to him when finished.
“About what happened just now,” he took a deep breath, watching your face fall. Panic filled his stomach.
“James if you tell me you got carried away,” your voice came out choked; he hated that sound.
“No! I got carried away but in the direction I wanted. I need to know you’re alright with all of this. I know with... work and we’re friends, but I” he swallowed, feeling a well of emotions, “have feelings for you.” He took your hand. “I come with a lot of baggage though,” he said after a moment, the insecurity started to prickle under his skin. He wouldn’t blame you if you ran screaming from him.
“Ok,” you blinked rapidly, interrupting his thoughts. “James I really... think about you a lot. I mean to say, I have feelings for you too.” You felt very young again for a second, stumbling over your words. Whenever you weren’t on a mission you were able to just exist together, though you tried to conceal exactly how much his off-beat humor and good looks affected you.
Bucky let out a brilliant smile, and for a moment, every line of worry or pain that had been etched on his face was gone. This must have been the Bucky only Steve had known. He leaned down and kissed your forehead.
“I want to be with you,” you looked up at him, gently touching the side of his face. “Through hell or high-water.” He melted into the touch before leaning down to kiss you again, feeling an overwhelming amount of warmth in his chest.
The oven’s temperature alarm dinged, bringing you back to reality for a moment. Gingerly you pulled away before placing the rolls back into the oven and setting the timer.
“Frosting? Cream cheese should have softened by now,” you said, looking over at the brick sitting on the countertop.
“Yes professor,” he nodded, watching you scan the recipe book once more. You gave him a crooked smile and a near eye roll. He watched attentively as you worked, handing over anything needed. When finished, you looked at him.
“Here, taste,” you gave him the spoon.
“Good? More sugar?”
“No, sweet enough,” he smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners before he started to clean up, humming to himself. For once, something was going better than ok. You were making another round of coffee, the easy domesticity of the moment striking him. Mission after mission, punch after punch, the nightmares, they didn’t matter. Someone had chosen him with full knowledge of his past. Feeling lighter, he continued to clean what he could until the oven dinged again. He heard you walk over to look at the rolls before setting out a cloth for them to rest on. Placing a pair of black oven mitts on, you pulled the rolls out. They looked heavenly, golden and bubbly and filling the kitchen with a warm cinnamon-vanilla scent.
“Did you bring all these baking supplies here?” He realized having the pan, mitts, hell even the ingredients – didn’t seem like the M.O. of any other Thunderbolts.
“Absolutely, you think Walker can do anything other than make a stir fry or grill to pretend to be able to cook? And have you had Yelena’s mac and cheese?”
“Fair point,” Bucky nodded his head before bursting into laughter. You joined him, the two of you eventually wiping tears from the corners of your eyes before settling down and continued with the task at hand. You poured the frosting over the cooling tray, setting the bowl down and licking the spoon. A little remained at the corner of your mouth.
“Here,” he leaned closer to you, rubbing his thumb on your face before bringing it to his own lips. The simple gesture made you hold your breath for a moment.
“What?” Bucky sensed the change in your demeanor. He liked that expression. Hungry.
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing. You’re blushing doll,” he stepped closer to you, pressing you between him and the counter. “You liked that.”
His sudden intensity caused you to duck your head again. Bucky caught your chin, “you don’t have to hide from me sweetheart. I want to see all of you.”
You exhaled sharply, heart pounding. Bucky looked as good as sin.
“Damn it Bucky,” you sighed and in a moment his mouth was on yours again.
These weren’t the sweet, soft kisses of earlier. These had a new urgency to them without a hint of question. You leaned closer to him, one hand resting on his chest and the other at his waist. Bucky slipped both arms around you and took a step backward before swinging you upward. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively and he set you on the counter, standing between your thighs.
“This ok?” he paused for a moment, but you’d already reached for him again. He sucked on your lower lip, bringing his cool metal hand up to cradle your neck.
“Fuck,” you mumbled when breaking away for air. He grinned at you, your legs tightening around his waist. Bucky groaned, feeling himself harden as he pressed against you.
“Not very lady-like, you had me fooled before,” he played with some strands of your hair that fell around your face. You wanted him to go farther.
“Why?” you had the gall to look surprised.
Bucky smirked, “I haven’t even bought you dinner and your legs are wrapped around my waist.”
“I still have my clothes on,” you offered looking up slyly. Bucky scoffed, shaking his head and pulling your white t-shit off. He tossed it God knows where before taking in what was now exposed to him. His hands were on your chest, massaging gently while sucking on different spots on your neck until you let out a moan and jerked against him.
“So responsive,” he breathed, leaning you backwards to get more access to your chest. His hand that was resting on the table touched something sticky – the frosting.
He had an idea.
“Do you trust me?”
When you only nodded, he gripped your face. “Need to hear it.”
“I trust you,” you said quietly.
Bucky grinned, drawing lazy patterns with the icing down your neck, to your collarbone, between your breasts and around your nipples. He alternated kisses and bites, soothing each sting with a hot licks. Your hands flew to his hair, your body growing tenser than you thought possible. Bucky’s mouth was excellent at driving you crazy and leaving you wanting more. You ground yourself against him, seeking friction. One of his hands slid down to your ass while he pressed himself closer, stilling your movements. He looked up at you, taking a nipple in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. Your eyes had closed, head thrown back. At that moment, Bucky knew he wanted to do this properly. As much as he was having fun in the kitchen, this needed to move into the bedroom.
“Hold on doll,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and taking you towards your room. He murmured sweet promises to you, whispering how he’d make you feel good. He would treat you as well as you deserved. Debating between throwing you onto the bed and laying you down gently, you made that decision for him when you moaned a delicious, “yes” in his ear.
In seconds, he was on top of you. Bucky pinned your arms above your head with his own metal hand, kissing your mouth like it was all he needed to breathe. You squirmed against him, feeling how hard he was between your thighs.
You had no choice but to lay there underneath him and take it. You loved it.
“Want to see you,” you managed out when he let you up for air before nibbling on your neck again. Your skin was a canvas for his artwork.
Bucky groaned, grinding himself into you and feeling you meet his still clothed thrusts. He leaned back, letting your arms go for a moment before pulling his shirt off. It was hot in there, too fucking hot. He watched you laying back, your thighs rubbing together.
That he couldn’t abide by. All thoughts of taking off the rest of his clothes disappeared. Instead, he pulled down your shorts and panties, making eye contact with you during it. You’d bit your bottom lip, swollen from his many kisses. Your legs fell open for him and he hooked his arms around you.
Bucky kissed the delicate inside of your thighs, feeling the slight anticipatory tremble. He blew air on your clit, listening to your sharp intake of breath.
“All this for me,” he looked at your glistening folds before licking a long stripe up your slit. God you tasted amazing, better than the frosting he was licking off your breasts. This was what he pictured when he was alone after spending an evening with you - pinning you down, keeping his face between your thighs and making you moan for him. His hands tightened on your legs the second he felt you squirm and cry out his name. Your hands were in his hair, gripping almost painfully. Bucky’s nose bumped your clit deliciously as he dove into you. He alternated taking it fast and slow, letting the shaking of your legs guide him.
“Please,” you mumbled as he picked up the tempo, working you nearly to the brink. You ground yourself into his face without thought. Bucky pulled away, sensing how close you were. It earned him a scowl.
“What was that sweetheart?” his eyes were sparkling with trouble while his lips and chin glistened with your arousal. Bucky stroked the inside of your thigh, unable to keep his hands off you.
“Ass,” you panted, with a slight laugh, clenching around nothing. His edging was going to drive you even crazier.
“Not very ladylike of you,” he dragged a finger around your clit, circling lazily, teasingly. Your hips jerked in anticipation once more. He loved how affected you were, lying there with legs spread open for him. Your eyes met his and you felt yourself grow even hotter, not knowing that was possible.
“I’ll make you feel good sweetheart, be patient,” he slipped two fingers inside of you, thick and skillful. Bucky nearly groaned hearing the whimper that escaped your lips. He curled upwards, searching for the spot that made you arch your back and abuse the covers with your grasp. It was such a pretty picture. When he felt you clenching around his fingers, he dipped his head back down, drawing circles on your clit.
The feeling had you shaking on a new level. It was so much, the feeling of being worked by his fingers and hot tongue, the stubble rubbing against your most sensitive areas. He let out a deep appreciative groan when you squeezed your thighs around his face, surrendering to his hands and mouth. Bucky flicked his tongue against you, concentrating on the increasing tension in your body. When he felt your walls flutter once more, he didn’t let up.
“Please don’t stop,” you moaned, feeling on the edge of release. He looked up at you for only a second and that was all you needed to fall apart. Bucky continued to fuck you with his mouth and fingers through that orgasm, until you finally stilled.
Satisfied, he pulled his fingers from you and licked them. “Delicious.” Bucky kept his vibranium hand on your leg, squeezing affectionately.
Your gaze dropped to his pants, admiring the noticeable bulge. You sat up, reaching for his waist band. Bucky stood up, letting you pull them down, well aware you’d be eye level with his cock.
Bucky kicked off the clothes, suddenly self-conscious. What if he wasn’t enough, sure he was good with his hands and mouth but was he a good fuck for you?
“And I thought your good looks were your best feature,” you teased before taking him in your hand. He was long, girthy, and red. You swiped the bead of pre-cum over the tip with your thumb, causing his hips to jerk suddenly. Looking at him made your mouth water. You pressed gentle kisses, glancing up at him coyly. Bucky’s hands knotted in your hair, letting himself enjoy the feel of your mouth around his cock. His feelings of self-doubt fell away as you bobbed your head along the length.
“Oh god sweetheart,” he began to thrust at the feel of your tongue on the underside of his length. You brought up your hands to fondle his balls, feeling him tense.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” his words tumbling out, “my perfect fucking doll.”
Clearly, he loved to talk which would have made you smirk in satisfaction if your mouth wasn’t occupied. You squeezed his waist with your free hand before drawing little circles, enjoying the sensation of his tightening body. His thrusts were beginning to grow sloppy.
“Hold on sweetheart, that’s enough,” he cupped your face, causing you to release him. He smiled at the confused expression on your face as you wiped your mouth. Bucky gently put his hands on your shoulders, causing you to lie back.
“I don’t want to... in your mouth the first time, love,” he whispered, positioning himself over you. You let your legs fall open and Bucky dipped his body lower, still not thrusting inside. Instead he kissed you, the two of you tasting each other and yourselves. You cupped his face with your hands, enjoying the intimacy of the moment, how solid and warm his body was. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, that this was more than just sex.
“Let me know if you’re uncomfortable sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking his cock against your clit. He loved the little sounds you were making.
“I need you inside of me” you said, kissing his lips once more and cupping his face with your hands. He lined himself up with your entrance, gentle pushing inside and pausing. Bucky watched you for any discomfort. Instead you squeezed his biceps.
“It’s okay,” you told him, enjoying the stretch. He continued until fully inside of you, the sensation making his throat tighten exquisitely.
“I won’t break Bucky, you can move,” you promised him, kissing the tip of his nose. He nodded wordlessly, pulling back out before thrusting again gently inside of you. You rolled your hips to meet his movements.
“You feel so good,” he moaned, beginning to increase the speed of his thrusts. You placed you hand on his lower back then, pressing him closer to you.
“Yes, like that, Christ James,” you whined and he thought he’d seen stars for a moment. You were clenching around him and squirming. Bucky bit his lip when you decided to wrap your legs around his waist once more, his balls to tighten. Bucky thrust harder into you, chasing a high until he felt your walls flutter around him and your nails on his back. When your body tensed, he nearly lost his composure but managed to keep fucking you through your second orgasm.
“That’s my girl,” he praised, enjoying the bliss on your face. He leaned down to kiss you once more, stroking your hair and rocking only gently inside of you. You kissed him fervently back, sucking on his bottom lip and eventually his tongue. When your kisses had changed from languid to urgent, he broke away, leaning back while hooking his metal around your waist. He pulled you towards him, smiling as you eagerly followed his wordless instructions. His confidence had increased triple fold when you came on his cock. Bucky snapped his hips against yours, eyes searching your face.
“I’m yours,” you told him, and those words rang in his ears as he set a brutal pace. You moaned, clenching around him instinctively.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises in the soft skin of your hips. The headboard of your bed jutted against the wall with this new rhythm. Your eyes were closed, lips parted to let out small sounds. Bucky looked at your flushed skin, from cheeks to breasts. He was lost for a moment, watching the results of fucking you until he realized how close he was. He needed you to come once more. With a free hand, he circled your clit.
“One more for me sweetheart,” he groaned.
“Keep talking,” your eyes opened and you watched him, admiring the muscles in his arm and chest before leaning your head back up and arching your back. The sensation of the cool metal on your clit was almost too much.
“Look at me, I want to see your face,” Bucky ordered. You gasped, looking back at him. His words made you clench once more.
“You like my voice don’t you,” though it was far from how he had sounded earlier. This was gravelly, desperate. You nodded. He grinned, rolling his hips in a new way that caused you to clench. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”
You could only whimper, you were so close.
“I like your voice, the way you call out my name and the pretty noises you make,” he continued rolling his hips that way until your whole body tensed.
“Good girl,” he groaned, feeling your clenching around him. Bucky let out few more thrusts, chasing the high of his own orgasm. His motions became sloppy, spilling himself inside of you. He gently lowered your trembling frame to the bed, laying down next to you. He brought a hand up to your face, turning it to face him.
“Hey,” he said softly. You leaned forward and kissed him, answering his question. When you broke away, you rested against his chest. He stroked your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“You were incredible,” you mumbled, voice muffled by his skin.
“So were you.” He kissed the top of your head, closing his eyes. “Tell me again that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” you repeated your earlier words, inhaling his scent deeply. Unlike earlier this morning, you were tired. Exhausted.
“Bucky?”
His eyes opened, “yes?”
“I think I’d like to go back to bed.” He started to shift but you placed a hand on his chest.
“With you,” you'd glimpsed the look of hurt that had flashed for a second. Your reaction quiet him had been instinctual. You’d do anything to take his pain away. Relief flooded his face and Bucky realized how absolutely, head over heels in love with you he was.
“Sleep well, love,” he said, closing his eyes and holding you tight.
***Bonus***
“Do you think we can eat them?” Alexei eyed the pan of intact cinnamon rolls on the counter. “They look delicious. Oh and there’s fruit!”
“I’d ask first,” Ava shrugged her shoulders. She looked at Yelena who pulled out her phone.
“Why not just knock?” Walker spied your room off the hall. He started in that direction before being yanked backwards.
“Because I don’t want to wake her up,” Yelena looked appalled. "Rude."
“It’s almost noon, she and Bucky are early risers,” he replied flatly. “They’re probably out somewhere.”
Yelena snapped a photo of the rolls, texting it to your phone. She whipped her head around when she heard a small vibration on the counter.
“Hey there’s Bucky’s phone too,” Bob pointed at the other phone, a few inches away. He turned towards the common room and spied a white mass. “And a shirt.”
“You don’t think,” Yelena’s face lit up and she exchanged a look with Ava.
“Ohh,” Alexei said loudly before dramatically laughing. “Ha I like them together.”
“Shh. Eww,” Yelena rolled her eyes at her ersatz father. She walked to your door in the hallway, knocking a few times. “You feeling ok in there?”
“Go away, Yelena,” Bucky’s voice called from behind the door. He looked down at you, cringing at the sound of an audible high-five from behind the door.
“I guess the team approves,” you closed your eyes, trying not to giggle and failing miserably.
“Oh good. I was so worried about their approval” he deadpanned, eventually giving in the laughter and pulling you close in a tight embrace. You rested your head on his chest, thinking of the lyrics from that song once more.
For dancing, soon becomes romancing.