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Tofu always seems to know when Bucky’s arrived before you do, if her incessant meowing in response to the revving of his Yamaha is anything to go by. She pads over to the rug in front of the door, pawing at material as his footsteps draw closer to your doorstep.
You swipe a final layer of gloss on your lips, knowing the sheen was particularly pleasing to the man beginning to knock on your door. You wait a couple moments before swinging the door open, not wanting to seem overeager and then internally berating yourself for caring about something that trivial. It was only your second time hooking up with Bucky after all, and if the first time was any indication it would be the second of many.
Bucky’s roguish grin awaits you at the door, a shoulder pressed against your doorframe and arms crossed casually like his biceps aren’t bulging against the buttery leather of his jacket. His gaze sweeps over you, hot and slow, before settling predictably at your lips for a moment too long. You bite back a smile.
Not one to be left out of the party, Tofu chirps at Bucky’s feet, winding around his legs and getting fur on the dark material of his jeans. Bucky’s expression changes comically fast, from one of practiced coolness and swagger to wide-eyed elation. He walks through the door, and immediately crouches down to greet your raging cockblock of a cat.
“Heyyy!” He chuckles, stretching out his words and notching his voice a little suspiciously towards baby talk. “How’s it goin’ Missy?” Bucky scratches at the top of her head in delight, right in her sweet spot between the ears, and your cat-- clearly in seventh heaven-- flops right over at his feet like the absolute traitor that she is and starts purring.
He stays with her for a couple minutes longer, cooing softly and letting Tofu scratch herself against the ridges on his metal arm. You’re surprised that her fur doesn’t get caught between the plates, but you say nothing, just watching as your usual demon of a cat goes mooney-eyed over your fuck buddy.
Said fuck buddy finally looks up from his position on the floor and decides to acknowledge you, his smile sheepish and somehow still infuriatingly charming. He murmurs a quick apology before rising to his full height and luring you into his chest, oozing sexiness and magnetism like he wasn’t just about to adopt your cat.
You’re ready to wave away his apology but he doesn’t give you the opportunity. Instead he draws you in with a firm hand at the back of your neck and kisses you like you dream about with your hand down your panties, fingers heavy on your clit and his name soft at your lips. He kisses like a fucking tsunami, earth sweeping and wet and insistent and holy shit he’s gonna ruin kissing for you.
“Did’ya miss me, sweetheart?” He asks, voice a little cocky as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. You’re practically melting in his arms so he already knows the answer, but he questions you anyway because the fucker likes watching you squirm.
“I didn’t… not miss you.” You answer carefully with a dazed half smile, watching his eyebrows go up. Your bottom lip is still buzzing from his bite and all you can think about is exacting your revenge.
“That so?” A hand rises to your heaving chest, thumb pressing barely-there pressure against the outer edge of your areola through your shirt. You shudder in his arms a little, realizing that skipping a bra might not have been the best idea. In a likely transparent effort to strike the perfect balance between casual and sexy, you had donned a pair of fluffy white lounge shorts alongside the thinnest, smallest babydoll tee you owned in the most innocent pink color you could find.
“Mhmm,” You manage out between breaths, a lip caught between your teeth and something like a wild look in your eyes; so turned on you can’t see straight.
“We’ll see about that.” With that, he gives a hard tug at your nipple, watching with a mean glint in his eyes and a smile as you moan, arching up towards him. He takes the opportunity to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his middle easily, before carrying you to your room and shutting the door.
He throws you down on the bed with little effort, quickly shucking off his jacket and shirt. He unbuckles his belt, and tugs the zipper of his jeans down but doesn’t remove them yet. Instead he climbs over your form, capturing your mouth in another breathless kiss and gently urging your hands up above your head. He transfers the capture of your wrists over to one of his hands, and brings the metal one down to your stomach to slide underneath your shirt.
His mouth meets the nipple that isn’t occupied by his talented metal digits, tongue dragging against the sensitive bud through the soaked cotton of your t-shirt and you have to remember to breathe slowly. He sucks at it, slow and soft and nasty, eyes watching you darkly as you swallow back moans. The friction drives you absolutely insane, a low whine escaping from the back of your throat that makes Bucky smile, teeth gently scraping against the sensitive skin of your nipple.
“Think you could come from just this, baby,” Bucky says airily with a smile, like it’s just an afterthought, but it makes you buck your hips up toward him and moan brokenly. He grins in disbelief, like he was just joking, but your reaction is pressing him to reconsider. You shake your head; you can’t bear the thought of him doing nothing about the fact that clit is pulsing violently because you might just explode.
“My pussy is literally drooling right now, Bucky.” You manage, struggling against his hold on your wrists. He plays it off like it doesn’t affect him, but you hear his breath hitch and feel the way his dick twitches against your leg. “I’m gonna need you to do something about that.”
“And, what would you have me do, sweetheart?” He asks, a lazy little smile on his face as he kisses his way back up to your face. You groan, legs wrapping around his fantastic butt, and pushing your hips up for some kind of friction. You’re not expecting the jolt of electricity that runs through you as your clit meets his hardness facilitated by the wonderful, blessed texture of authentic vintage Levi’s denim.
“Oh,” Is about all you can manage, eyebrows contorting and face going slack with pleasure. Everything feels too good. Bucky’s kissing behind your ear in that spot that never fails to give you goosebumps, the wet fabric of your shirt is chafing something fierce against your sensitive nipples, and now Bucky’s figured out that you are a fan of dry humping like a teenager with newfound access to a stash of pornographic magazines.
He smirks, thrusting forward a little so the seam of his pants catches just right between your vulva.
You gasp. He’s never gonna let it go.
“You know,” Bucky starts, nuzzling your neck a little. “I was off my game the last time we fucked.” You stare at him like he’s lost his mind.
“You made me come?” You say, confusion coloring your tone. As far as performance goes, that definitely lies on the much better end of what you’ve come to expect from men during a hookup.
“Yeah,” He scoffs indignantly. “Exactly. Only once.”
Oh boy. You think.
Bucky’s presence in your home becomes a frequent one soon enough, but you didn’t realize the frequency had allowed you both to graduate to unplanned meetings. Which is precisely why you’re surprised to find him at your door on a Tuesday evening, holding an enticing looking box of pizza and a hopeful smile on his face.
“Hey,” You offer a little cautiously. “Did we have plans tonight?” You ask the question like perhaps you could have forgotten, but you know you haven’t. The menstrual pad you use to sleep with currently resting a little uncomfortably between your legs says so.
“I-- no, we didn’t,” He finally answers, face crumbling a little at your expression. You don’t mean for it to come off as cold as it probably does, but he looks dashing and princelike in a soft navy blue sweater, he’s holding one of your favorite comfort foods-- all in the hopes of getting lucky-- and even though he’s your friend on the sole basis of having crazy sex together, that motive bothers you. You’re feeling bitter and touch starved but you’re on your period so you get a free pass. “I called a couple times, but you didn’t answer. I know you don’t work on Tuesday nights so I thought I’d stop by.”
“My phone was on Do Not Disturb.”
“Oh,” He says, adjusting his grip on the box. He hooks the thumb from his free hand behind him. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, I can go?”
“No!” You answer a little too quickly. You want to kick yourself-- but you take a quick breath, fidgeting with your nails. “I just… I’m on my period right now.” Bucky blinks.
“I don’t understand what that has to do with the pizza in my hand,” He says. You swallow down a smile at his casual tone. Despite his laid-back presence, you can tell he’s nervous. Which is fair, considering the two of you don’t ever really ‘hang out’ with the exception of the aforementioned crazy hot sex. But, that doesn’t mean it makes watching Bucky Barnes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he awaits a response, any less adorable. “That’s also currently getting colder by the minute.”
“You got the kind with the garlic parmesan crust?” He rolls his eyes like he can’t even believe you’d ask such a stupid question. You grin and make way for him to come inside.
As soon as he’s inside, he’s rushing to put down the pizza so he can scoop your cat up and hold her hostage. He laughs as Tofu bats at his chin with her paws.
“And how is Miss Tofu doing today?” He asks her like he’s really awaiting a response. Your cat does nothing but blink dreamily up at Bucky, smushing her face against his neck.
“Miss Tofu, here, scratched the living shit out of me today for clipping her nails,” You spill, grabbing plates and napkins from the kitchen to serve the pizza on. “And now she’s acting innocent because you’re here.” He bellows out a hearty laugh, staring right back at her with the same dreamy eyes.
Bucky carefully deposits Tofu down in her kitty bed after letting her sniff the pizza box to sate her curiosity, and washes his hands before joining you on the couch. You press play, watching some ridiculous soap on Netflix set in the English Regency era about the fight for love or something equally as corny.
“I just don’t understand why Simon won’t let go of some vendetta made decades ago to a dead man and let himself be happy with Daphne?” Bucky asks, flinging himself back into the comfort of your couch after polishing off the last of the pizza. You shake your head.
“Not you in black men’s business.” You say with a raise of your eyebrow. He gives you a withering look, and it takes everything in you not to burst out in laughter. “It’s not about Daphne, it’s about his father and the trauma Simon had to endure as a child. Dead or not, he can’t give his father the satisfaction of continuing the bloodline.”
“Sure he can! How would he even know?”
“You just don’t get it.”
“You know what, you’re right! I don’t.” He crosses his arms, huffing. You let out the laugh you’ve been holding in. It’s only a tiny bit cute how invested he’s gotten. “You tell anyone that I watched this with you and I’ll deny it.”
“I’ll shout it from the rooftops.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” He deadpans.
“And who’s gonna stop me?” You challenge. He takes a moment and looks over at you like he’s trying to figure something out but can’t quite put a finger on it. You should’ve seen it coming, but you’re still surprised when his hand finds its way to your throat and guides your lips to his.
You’re not sure what he’s playing at, but you go along with it for the moment. He does have a nice pair of lips, after all, and kissing him wasn’t the worst thing you could spend a Tuesday night doing. His tongue licks slow, confident sweeps into your mouth that make you moan, arms wrapping around your waist before plucking you from your spot on the sofa and depositing you on his lap.
However, as soon as you’re in his lap, you feel something fluffy place itself between your bodies. You look down to see your brat cat sitting in the one inappropriate spot like she doesn’t have the entirety of your apartment at her leisure.
“Tofu! Bad kitty!” You try to shoo your cat away, but all she does is settle more comfortably onto Bucky’s legs and give a big stretch of her paws. You’re beyond annoyed but Bucky apparently thinks it’s hilarious, cracking up and giving your cat some vigorous rubs underneath her chin. “You’re enabling her.”
“Oh, stop it, she’s adorable,” He says, suddenly no longer interested in you but enamored by your cat who’s decided Bucky’s lap is far preferable to the overpriced, luxurious kitty bed you bought for her. “Do you have any treats?” You climb off of his lap, sighing, realizing your fuckbuddy likes your cat better than you.
You mutter to yourself in disbelief as you walk to the kitchen and grab a couple of Tofu’s treats anyway for Bucky to give her. You pass them over to him, watching as he affectionately feeds her a couple with one hand and pets her with the other. You cross your arms, not liking the way Bucky’s tender handling of your cat makes you impossibly more attracted to him and twice as likely to jump his bones.
It’s really just not fair.
“Bucky,” You call sweetly. He doesn’t even look over at you, too captivated by Tofu’s cuteness to provide anything but a hum to let you know he’s listening. “Would you like me to give you the best blowjob of your life or would you like to continue feeding my cat?”
Bucky freezes, and you have to stop yourself from smirking. He gently pries Tofu off and places her on the couch, before grabbing your hand and tugging you both to your bedroom.
A few weeks later, you’re panting as Bucky collapses next to you on the bed, duvet soft and warm from the sunlight and the heat of your bodies. You glance over at him, suddenly captivated by how artful he looks first thing in the morning. You don’t know if it’s the post-coital bliss talking, but you can’t help but notice how handsome Bucky really is: from the strong slope of his nose to the gold detailing in his mechanical arm that reflects the gilded light floating in through your windows.
You don’t know when he started sleeping over after your regular late-night meetings, but you do know that getting dicked down by him first thing in the morning improves your mood exponentially throughout the day, so you don’t really mind. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.
Because, honestly, you don’t have the mental or physical capacity to unpack the other reasons right now. Not with the rising sun casting a heavenly orange glow throughout your room and the obscenely beautiful man in your bed; not with the memory of his fingers tight on your hips and most certainly not with the birds chirping cheerfully outside like it’s a fucking Disney movie.
In an effort to stop yourself from going down that rabbit hole, you spring out of bed. You’re not surprised to hear scratching at your door shortly thereafter, your demon wanting entry to your room-- and probably breakfast as well even though she knows she’s not supposed to be fed for another hour or so.
“Didn’t know you were such an early bird,” Bucky teases from behind you as you move to let Tofu in. You freeze, eyes widening a little. Shit. “You’re usually snoring for a couple more hours.” The tensions from your shoulders drop, and you scoff, choosing to continue on your path toward the bedroom door.
“I don’t snore and you know it!” You place your hands at your hips and stare disapprovingly down at your cat who immediately zooms in and joins Bucky on your bed. Bucky’s thrilled at this, of course, and starts cooing at her as she rubs her face all over him. She’s just trying to butter him up so he’ll give her breakfast instead, which knowing him, he probably will on his way out. Tofu’s definitely gotten chunkier since Bucky’s started frequenting your apartment.
You spare a glance over at the duo on your bed on the way to the bathroom, regretting it immediately when you do. Bucky’s got both arms around Tofu, cuddling her like a tiny little pillow and your cat that supposedly hates everyone, couldn’t be more content-- purring like Bucky’s motorcycle with her fluffy, striped tail is twined around his arm. His fingers run gently along her spine and he’s got this soft look in his eyes that makes you feel funny.
Heaving a sigh of relief once you’re safely tucked away from his stupid blue eyes in your bathroom, you decide right then and there to avoid him and said eyes for the foreseeable future. You hear some shuffling outside the door, likely sounds of Bucky getting dressed. You strip and turn on the shower, figuring he’ll give you a holler before exiting like he usually does.
You weren’t planning on washing your hair today, but you have the time and surprisingly the energy, so you forego the shower cap and enter. You’re adjusting the warmth of the water when a voice behind you causes you to yelp in surprise.
“Actually, you do snore,” He says, hands at his hips and a cocky smirk on his face when you turn to look at him. He’s naked and his smile is growing wider as your eyes trail down the length of his torso. “But, it’s very cute. Like a little bunny rabbit.” He steps into your shower with no further preamble, crowding into your space and hogging the stream of water raining down on you.
“Wh--” You clear your throat, glancing up at him nervously. You regret it immediately. Dear lord, of course he looks even more heartbreakingly gorgeous with water pelting down on him. “What are you doing?”
“Showering,” He explains simply, a cheeky smile on his face. He glances behind you, eyes scanning your plethora of shower products. He plucks your shampoo from the shelf and quickly pours some onto his hand before setting it aside and lathering it up in his hands. You open your mouth to complain, that shampoo was expensive as hell and it wasn’t made for his hair type anyway.
Imagine your shock when he slides behind you, and buries his fingers in your hair. You snap your mouth shut with a quickness as he massages small, firm circles into your scalp. You’re completely unaware of what to do with your body, frozen yet again, arms rigid and unmoving at your sides.
This is uncharted territory. Fuck buddies don’t wash each other’s hair, this-- this was completely inappropriate and strange and just too much. You swallow past something in your throat: a dry little lump of disbelief.
“Jesus, bunny,” He breathes out, using his arms to press your shoulders loose from their taut position. “Relax a little, huh? You’re so tense.” He uses the hands in your hair to gently urge you closer. You droop back a little against his front, his chest firm and skin warm from the steam.
It’s so quiet that you’re sure he can hear how loudly your heart is hammering as he spends time fully rubbing in the shampoo before rinsing it out and doing the same with your conditioner. He grabs your body wash to continue, lathering it over your shoulders and working it in by massaging into the muscles surrounding your scapula. He works the soap around your backside before turning you to face him as he begins your front.
Predictably, he gets distracted by your soaped up tits, letting out a captivated little sigh as he does a really good job of making sure they’re clean. You roll your eyes, biting back a smile.
“You’re such a man,” You say, trying to sound annoyed.
“And i’ve got the hard on to prove it,” He retorts. You gasp, as if you’re actually scandalized. He doesn’t really buy it though, laughing as he finishes sudsing up the rest of your body. He squeezes some body wash for himself and does a quick scrub over his entire body, taking a maximum of 60 seconds, before reaching for the shower handle.
“Please say you’re joking,” You say, reaching out to stop him. You grab more body wash, and re-start at the curve of his jaw, working the soap slowly down his neck and onto his chest. You feel him swallow hard as you wash his neck, refusing to look him in the eyes. You’re pressed up against him in your most vulnerable state and there’s a cloud of steam enveloping your bodies together into a little bubble; he’s got his arms around you like a hug and you don’t know how you got yourself into this.
When you reach his lower stomach, you give a hard stroke to his dick, grip tightening towards the tip then immediately opting to ignore it and continue on your path like nothing changed. He hisses and bucks up a little toward you.
“Oh, is this what we’re doing?” He says, voice rough. You smile to yourself and say nothing, as he shakes his head. “You’re evil.”
“I’ve not a single idea to what you are referring,” You say innocently. He nods his head, looking away as he thinks. But, as soon as his eyes are back on you, you know you’re in for it. He shoves you hard against the freezing tile of your wall, lifting you a little so you’re propped on the side ledge. He splits your thighs, and you’re expecting his hand first like usual, so when the head of his cock presses at your folds, you gasp. You glance down, watching as he runs the tip up and down the length of your pussy, head catching on your clit and ripping a moan from you. He teases at your entrance, tip pushing in just so before disappearing completely. He repeats the process a few more times to fuck with you because he really is that much of a menace, but the final time, you press your heels into his the globes of his ass, causing him to sheathe himself fully inside.
But, get this-- the fucker doesn’t move. At all.
You see the effort it’s taking him to do so, one arm braced against the wall next to your head, and a dark focus in his eyes, but he still doesn’t move. You try to give a little wiggle of your hips, but all he does is still your movement with the other hand.
“I think i’d like to hear you say please,” He says noncommittally, before nodding like he’s affirming the thought. You manage a scoff in between your heavy breaths. Something-- anything to draw attention away from the fact that those words make your core throb.
“You get off on hearing girls beg for you, Barnes?”
“Maybe just the one,” He whispers lowly. “Don’t act like you don’t love it. Bet you think about it right here in this shower when you’re alone, pretty little fingers inching south.” Jesus, who the hell was this guy? A fucking mind reader? Your brain short circuits a little at his dirty words, and like a sinner confessing in church, you instinctively glance up at the detachable shower head before looking away quickly.
But, it’s too late. He follows your line of sight up to the god forsaken item, grin growing so wide you think it’ll split his face.
“My god,” He breathes out in disbelief, arm reaching up for the shower-head and drawing it down to chest level. He spins it in his hand, forcing you to look. “What do we have here?”
“Nothing,” You grit out, narrowing your eyes. You try to take it away from him, but he just raises his arm up and away from your reach. You strain for it, but he just laughs and pulls it further away. Each time he moves, you feel it inside you, and you really didn’t think he would get you to say please, but you’re perilously close to full-out begging already.
Your heartbeat picks up when he turns the water on: a steady flow of water pulsing out from the shower-head. He removes the hand from the wall to pull your labia apart, before introducing the surge of water to your exposed clit. You seize up immediately, your walls following suit around his dick as you let out a shriek of pleasure.
“Holy shit,” He grits out, clenching his eyes shut. If you had the awareness, you’d laugh-- that was your sentiment exactly.
The sensation from the water is intense in a way you can’t describe, spurt after spurt of rushing water hitting every single nerve in your body that makes you come alive. It’s dangerous enough on its own, but Bucky’s thick cock is inside you as well, and even though he’s not moving, his dick definitely is. Any small movement is amplified ten-fold, and you don’t think you’ll be alive if he actually starts thrusting.
You reach down underneath him to cup his balls and roll them in your hand, hearing him grunt into your ear. Bucky lets out a steadying breath as a result, leaning over to bite your shoulder.
“Can you move now?” You whine, stretching out your neck, hoping he’ll kiss there. You fail to hide a smile when he takes the opportunity immediately.
“You gonna say please now?" He replies almost mockingly, bending back to look you in the eye. You might be more inclined to do as he’s asking if his eyes weren’t alight with so much effort you would think it’s anger if you didn’t know better. But, you do, so with a mean clench around him you say:
“Not a chance, handsome.” Bucky is stupefied at this, eyes narrowing, that light in his eyes growing dark.
“Fine,” He says, turning to the faucet to turn the water pressure up. “Have it your way.” Your eyes widen in surprise, unable to stop yourself from yelling out his name. You moan brokenly when he turns up the water pressure, the water beating down harder on your swollen cit. You feel yourself pulsating around him, effectively drawing him in deeper like you’re milking him for everything he has to give you.
The orgasm barrels towards you fast, and you start clawing at his back, needing to ground yourself somehow as you draw near that heavenly precipice. Just as you’re about to come around him, he pulls himself out and the shower-head away.
“Bucky! Wh- what the actual fuck!” You exclaim, growing furious at the smug smile on his face. He says nothing, just swivels to put the showerhead back in place. He decides to finally use his godforsaken fingers, inserting two fingers right away, knowing how wet you are. “What, you’re not even gonna fuck me now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to fuck you?” An infuriating look of faux-shock on his face. “You know the magic word.”
“Fuck. You.”
“Not quite, but we’ll get there,” He assures, inserting another finger and stroking deep against that spot he knows drives you insane. A little whine you don’t recognize emanates out of you instead of a response, squeezing hard around his fingers. Instead of thrusting, he keeps his fingers inside and instead uses the tips of his fingers to massage over your G-spot, knowing it wouldn’t take long to build your orgasm back up again.
In your humble opinion, fingering was truly a lost art. The orgasm from being fingered can be so acute, so focused, and so-- just so--
“Oh,” You feel yourself throw your head back hard against the tile, chest heaving. Bucky was nothing if not a renaissance man.
With both of your arms looped around his herculean shoulders, he’s free to use his other hand to rub at your clit gently; torturously. You’re so horny, you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy and when he has the audacity to have a fourth finger join the others, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. Physically having to bite your tongue to prevent from screaming out the god-forsaken word, you opt to tug at the ends of his hair instead.
Perhaps you’d actually manage to cleave your tongue in half with the force of your teeth, but you absolutely do not trust yourself to speak right now. Your arms fall to your sides to grip at the edge of the ledge, nails scratching against tile. You can feel your orgasm, it’s so close, and with Bucky’s fingers painting your cunt like a fucking masterpiece you don’t think you can hold yourself back from--
Suddenly, his fingers are gone, pulling you from the edge by a millisecond.
“I’m literally going to kill you,” You manage, feeling so wound up you could cry. “How do you know exactly when i’m gonna come, jesus,”
“I know this pussy like the back of my hand,” He coos, although there’s poorly hidden pride in his voice too. He places a soothing kiss on your collarbone, gently stroking at the inside of your wrist with one hand. “You know what I want to hear.”
“You’re the worst and I hate you, just so you know,” Fuck it. “Please, Bucky, fuck me so I don’t kick you out as soon as we leave this shower.”
“I’m sensing a little attitude, but I’ll take it,” He says, with a pleased smile on his face like he’s actually proud of you or something. What the fuck is that? “If I can edge the stubbornness out of you, maybe i’ll be able to fuck the brat out of you too,” He pulls your legs back around his midsection, and then slowly guides himself inside you, both of you letting out a relieved little moan at the sensation.
He begins with slow, short strokes to test the waters but you’ve been on the edge of coming for so long, that even that little bit of stimulation starts licking warmth up your spine. Before long, he’s reached that beautiful rhythm, the rhythm that has you panting and him squeezing at your hips.
You reach up to place your hands around his neck again, but he takes both of your arms and pulls them up straight above you instead, using the mechanical arm to hold them both in place by your wrists. You struggle against his hold a little just to not seem too eager to submit, but what can you say, your pussy is beyond thrilled.
“My bratty little bunny,” He mutters, nosing up the column of your neck. He lowers his head to look you in the eye, and you promptly look down to where the two of you are joined. “What on earth am I gonna do with you?”
“Letting me come would be a great start.” You offer, unable to stop yourself from diffusing the tension with a little joke. It doesn’t work, though, not when he uses his right hand to raise your chin to meet his eyes. The thrusts get impossibly deeper, a filthy noise filling the space as he fucks you against the wall.
You’re definitely the loudest you’ve been since you’ve both entered the shower at this point. You’re babbling nonsense, saying anything that will get him to just keep doing exactly what he’s doing. The orgasm is so close you can practically taste it, not a single thought in your head other than Bucky’s length dragging in and out of you.
“I’m--” You take a big gulp of air, eyes squeezing shut, the white hot tingle growing outward from the base of your stomach. “I’m gonna come,”
“No,” He growls. “Hold it.” You shake your head vigorously, hips starting to cant up toward him to meet his movements.
“I can’t!” You wail, body arching up toward him for any kind of contact. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,”
“Yes, you can. Open your eyes.” He presses down on your chin until you do, hand returning back to your hip to hold your squirming hips still against the tile. “Take it.” His hands are so big, he’s able to hold you down and use his thumb to circle your swollen clit, rubbing harsh and fast over the smooth nub. Your lips are trembling with exertion, eyes glossy as you try to hold yourself back.
“Bucky, baby, please,” You plead, squeezing around him. “I need to come; please let me come.” He groans at your words.
“Don’t you beg like a fuckin’ dream? Okay, bunny, go ahead.” He grins, and immediately you go to close your eyes, but he stops moving until you open your eyes. “You look at me when you come.” You nod, that funny feeling back in your stomach but this time it seems to have moved a little further north as you two maintain eye contact while he starts driving himself back into you.
With those eyes on you and his cock pistoning in and out of you, it’s no surprise you go careening over the edge within seconds, his name like a prayer on your lips, body stiffening and toes curling. Your orgasm triggers his, his mouth falling open and he empties himself inside of you.
Bucky releases your hands from their position above you, but not before kissing your wrists gently on their way down. You take the opportunity to rinse yourself clean again while Bucky steps out to grab some towels.
“You’re dripping water all over the floor,” You say, no actual bite to your words. He says nothing, just humming a little in agreement with a satiated expression on his face as he rubs a towel over your shoulders before moving down. There’s a certain contentment to the droop of his eyelids and the uptick of his mouth, void of any smugness or insincreity, and it throws you for a little bit of a loop.
“I just realized I don’t have anything to wear other than my dirty clothes from last night,” He says with a bit of a laugh, wiping himself down with another towel.
“You could always walk around naked,” You suggest, eyes twinkling.
“Mm, you’d love that, wouldn’t you,” He says, mouth opened wide to playfully bite at your jaw. You squeal and shove him away with no real strength behind it. “Little minx.”
“I have a pair of new sweatpants that might work,” You shrug. “As for a shirt… well, it seems like we’re out of options. You’ll just have to be shirtless. What a shame.”
“Uh-huh,” He replies, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’ll just have you give me the one you’re planning to wear. You look a lot better topless than I do.”
“I think my 80-year old neighbors would disagree, but I appreciate the sentiment.” You pat him on the shoulder, going to move away. “C’mon, I gotta feed Tofu.”
By the time you both step out of your room, dried and dressed, Tofu’s decided to start meowing crankily at you both at your betrayal. It’s likely a maximum of 5 minutes later than you usually feed her, but with the way she’s glaring at you, you’d think she was about to sue for animal cruelty.
Bucky gets to the cat food before you do, filling her food and water bowl while you grab a ceramic bowl and some cereal out of your cupboard for yourself. Bucky glances over at you, raising an eyebrow at the singular bowl as you open your fridge.
“What, no cheerios for me? It’s like that?” He teases. You freeze.
“I didn’t--” You balk. “Did you… want a bowl?” You ask cautiously. You’ve been a little suspicious since he accepted your offer of your sweatpants, but now he was eating breakfast with you? The skeptical part of your brain is on high alert, your metaphorical self standing with it’s arms crossed and weight propped on one foot, with the other tapping impatiently as you process.
“I’ll never turn down cheerios.”
So, there you are, a couple moments later: sitting with your fuckbuddy in your breakfast nook with matching bowls of cereal, watching in disbelief as he scarfs down his breakfast. You feel like you’re still recovering from whiplash, your spoon halfway into the bowl, unable to wrap your mind around eating breakfast with Bucky after showering together.
There’s a silence in the air, halfway between tense and awkward. What the hell were you two supposed to talk about? The weather?
“Your cereal is gettin’ soggy,'' He says, words garbled as he chews through the words. You snap out of it, suddenly self-conscious at being caught staring.
“Close your mouth,” You chide in an attempt to change the subject, nudging him in the shin with the tips of your toes. He taps you back, and soon enough, it’s a full blown game of footsies. He’s laughing now, and you’re trying to hide your grin behind your spoon but you doubt you’re having much luck. “You chew like a 5-year-old.” You add for good measure.
“And I fuck like a pornstar. What about it?” You choke on the milk as it goes down the wrong pipe and spurts back out of your nostrils in an attempt to clear your airway. Bucky pauses, staring and blinking, the silence incredibly and embarrassingly loud.
And then, the fucker giggles.
Just like that the tension breaks, giggles transforming to full on guffaws as you both lose your minds over your blunder.
The rest of the meal passes without incident, sounds of Tofu crunching in the back as you two eat peacefully. The scene is… domestic almost, with your bodies basking directly in the glow of sunlight through the window and moments of pleasant silence between conversation. Bucky’s happy to let you talk once you get going, ears perking up in interest at the right times and laughing when you make your silly little jokes. This side of Bucky you’ve only seen in fleeting moments-- slightly shy yet animated when he’s talking about something exciting, all gentle smiles and soft brushes of his legs along yours.
There’s a weird twist in your gut as he gets ready to leave, after finishing breakfast and helping you with the dishes. You’re not quite sure how to say goodbye, and you have a feeling he doesn’t know either. He takes a deep breath, and offers a nod, telling you that he’ll call you before starting to head out.
Tofu’s attention drops immediately from her breakfast, trotting behind Bucky’s retreating form. When he doesn’t notice, she begins meowing loudly. He glances back and gives her a little wave before heading further toward the door. Tofu, clearly dissatisfied, starts practically screaming when his hand reaches for the door knob. He turns to her, offering a sweet little laugh that has no business being as pure as it is.
“Hey, whaddaya want?” He asks curiously, bending down to her height. “You wanna come with?” Tofu meows in response, head-butting his hand and generally just making a scene. Tofu doesn’t even treat you this nicely, you think with a pout. He gives her one last cuddle before putting her down and waving whispering goodbye to her. He peers back up at you, an unreadable expression on your face.
Bucky jogs over, and seizes you by the hips to plant a long, filthy kiss against your mouth. Then, he turns back and leaves without another word.
“You’re avoiding me.”
You blink owlishly, trying not to seem like the deer in headlights that you very much feel like. You manage a little uncomfortable laugh.
“What-- I, no! No, not at all. Most certainly not. Why would I be avoiding you?” Smooth.
“You tell me,” He provocates. He’s taken on a stance much like a soldier, legs spread and arms crossed, taking up the entirety of your doorway. “You haven’t responded to any of my texts in almost two weeks.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” You respond, but your voice is still pitched up. You take a moment to breathe, to get your voice back to it’s natural octave. “I’ve just been… busy.” The excuse is lame, but at least your tone is better.
“With?” The query irks you, albeit irrationally so.
“Why does it matter? In fact, why do you care?” Your voice is rising again, but this time it’s not in pitch, it’s in volume.
“Is it a guy?” He asks, and you’re starting to get pissed off so you miss the way his eyes drop to the floor, metal fingers tapping nervously along his arm.
“Like there isn’t a girl for you? Or, multiple girls rather? Why come to my door when you have your pick of the bunch, huh?” His shoulder tense a little.
“You’re being irrational and insecure.” Your eye twitches, the calmness in his voice dousing your fiery anger in gasoline.
“Irrational and insecure? I’m not the one standing in your doorway at midnight demanding to know if you’re sleeping with other people.” You seethe. “Fuck you.” You go to slam the door in his face but he reaches out the metal arm to stop it in its path.
“Wait, I’m sorry, that was unfair, I don’t-- I don’t know where that came from,” He apologizes. You clench your jaw and look away.
“You don’t get to play therapist just because we’ve had sex, James.” You hiss.
“Just sex? That’s what this is?” He challenges, like he knows you’re lying. “I don’t get you. Did I do something wrong?”
“Yes.” You go to close the door again, and he stops you, again. At the commotion, Tofu comes peeking out from behind the corner, bounding forward when she realizes it’s Bucky at the door. She plants herself at his feet and greets him with a headbutt.
“Hi there, missy,” He whispers, face softening as he bends down to give her a quick pet. You’re already peeved, but the fact that Tofu is fraternizing with the enemy is only serving to further annoy you. “At least someone misses me.”
“Stop petting her!” You exclaim, knowing how ridiculous and petty you sound. “Tofu, come inside.” Your cat looks at you at the mention of her name, stares for about 3 seconds, then turns right back to Bucky and settles down next to him. You plant your face into your palms.
“Stop petting her?” He repeats, looking up from where he’s squatted.
“Yes!” You shriek, voice shrill. “Just stop it! All of it!”
“I’m confused,”
“Well, stop being confused!” You seethe. “Stop petting my cat, stop calling me bunny, stop washing my hair and bringing me pizza and-- and kissing me goodbye.” You lose the fight in you, conviction in your words making its way to exhaustion. “I’ve had enough of the mind games, Bucky, so just... stop.”
Something akin to realization dawns on his face, brows raising as he looks you over. He glances downwards and for a moment it looks like he’s fighting back a smile before he’s standing up and moving closer.
“I’m a hundred and six years old, bunny, I don’t play mind games.” He ducks his head a little so you’ll look at him, making a displeased noise when you refuse. He takes those metal fingers and gently guides your eyes to his. “There something you wanna tell me?”
“No,” You whisper, suddenly feeling very exposed. A second passes before he smiles, making no attempt to hide it this time.
“Then why is your heart beating so fast? Doesn’t sound like this when you’re resting.” Your head snaps up at this.
“You know what my resting heart rate sounds like?”
“I notice,” He replies. “More than you think I do.” There’s a red alarm in your head blaring, every fight or flight instinct in your body coming alive at once, and you have a feeling, a little bit, like you’re trapped. “I’ll tell you a secret, sweetheart, I don’t like cheerios. Nor do I really love pizza, all that much.”
“Okay?” What do his food preferences have to do with you? Also, what kind of person doesn’t love pizza?
“So, find the common denominator. You’re a smart girl.” He stares at you, gaze unwavering, until it clicks. And, god, he always thought you were beautiful, but watching every emotion flit through your face as you finally settle on something like disbelief and awe and affection has his heartbeat picking up until it matches yours.
“Y-- You like me? As in like, like me like me?”
“I didn’t say that.” He adds smoothly. Your face falls immediately, and his something in his chest coils, but he pushes on. “But, tell me how you feel and you might find out.”
“You’re the worst and I hate you,” You mumble, unable to tear your gaze away from the twinkle in his eyes. “But, I also really, really like you. More than I should. I like the sound of your laugh and your stupid baby blue eyes and I hate that Tofu loves you more than she does me but that only makes me like you more.”
“You certainly have a way with words sweetheart,” He murmurs, face leaning closer. You can’t hear your heartbeat, but you know it must be pounding something fierce against your ribcage as he finally kisses you like you’ve been dreaming about for the last two weeks. His hands cradle your face like it’s something precious and ephemeral, thumbs stroking your cheeks as his lips move with yours.
“Knew you liked me,” He murmurs once he pulls away, voice soft. Your eyes are still glazed over from the kiss so you don’t fully process what he’s saying. “Was just waiting to see how long it would take you to say it with your chest.” You smack him on the shoulder.
“Um, what the fuck?!” You exclaim. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I made it clear I liked you, s’not my fault you’re oblivious! The only other thing I could’ve done is have a skywriter spell it out for you, but chances are you’d miss that too. Plus, you’re extra cute when you’re embarrassed but that’s just an added bonus.”
“You’re a dick.” He grins, and swoops down to kiss you again. “You knew I liked you, liked me back, and just wanted me to say it first? How did you even know I liked you?”
“I’m old, not brain dead-- I haven’t forgotten the difference between when a woman wants me for the night and when a woman wants me there in the morning too. You’re not exactly subtle, sweetheart.” You gasp in outrage, making him chuckle. “And it’s not about saying anything first, I just wanted you to take a leap of faith. Some things are worth jumping for.”
“Okay, Confucius. Thank you for the life lesson.”
“Joke all you want, I know you’re happy.
“Nope, I’m mad. Angry, furious-- seething, even!” You manage with a grin. “How are you gonna make it up to me?”
“I’ll have sex with you. Y’wanna have sex with me?” He’s smiling and you’re barely containing your laughter as you shake your head and push him away half heartedly as if you want him anywhere but near you. He steps closer as you move backward, shutting the door behind him and crowding you flat against a wall. “Come on, I’ll do that thing you like.”
“The thing with your tongue?”
“Mmhmm. And then some.”
“Alright, you’ve convinced me.”
In the end, he did in fact do that thing you liked. Multiple times, just like he said.