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Tags: 18+, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Obviously smut, oral, p in v
Author Notes: Back from the dead to give you my first Bucky fic (I only write for people who have alliterative B names /Ben Barnes/Bucky Barnes- we all have limits)
Summary: Bucky hates fundraisers, but they are a reality for him now being a congressman. Thankfully he has you to make sure they're not all boring.
The city was an aglow tonight, the moon high overhead casting a silvery blanket over the pavement and all its inhabitants. Normally on a Friday night while everyone was going out and dancing or drinking until sun up you were used to staying in.
The siren song of sweatpants, Chinese food and a few episodes of an old reliable sitcom to ease you off into slumber called to you. Stars overhead twinkled brilliantly and laughter from a passing crowd coated your unconventional evening.
You tugged at the hem of the slinky red dress the saleswoman had talked you into. “Classy yet statement making”. She had insisted, helping zip you up as your hands skimmed over the front. Silky fabric that felt cool to the touch and covered enough of your legs and chest to be considered tasteful but a slight drop across your chest to skirt the line of danger.
It was way out of your comfort zone and yet it spoke to you from the hanger the second she’d brought it in. Your reflection in the dressing room had stared back and you barely recognized her. She was elegant. Perfectly poised and gently coiffed. Not a strand of hair out of place.
You supposed this was going to be more of your life now. Smiling and being amicable to a certain extent. Pristine to the best of your abilities. You wanted to jump out of your own skin at the thought of this going in for years. Decades maybe.
A shiver danced across your shoulders at the thought, not helped by the cool breeze rustling the branches of a nearby tree as you rubbed at your arms, attempting to warm yourself briefly. The small baguette bag clutched tightly in your fist as you could see the building come into view.
Large groups of other finely dressed people corralled inside. The soft noise of the street amped up another level as your heels clacked ever closer to the doormen watching and waiting for your arrival. The one man nodded at you as you gave him a small polite small.
The large ornate glass doors opening wide to let you pass. A million conversations bombarded you at once, as couples, and groups crowded around the elevators waiting for the telltale ding and to shove themselves in to capacity.
You didn’t force yourself into the last ride and instead enjoyed the brief moment of silence as the doors closed. The polished golden mirroring back how you appeared. Truly looking the part, congressman’s girlfriend. Politics. The idea made your head hurt some days.
But you loved him and he loved you and this is what partners did. Show up and support each other. Even if it meant your next few, or twenty, weekends consisted of fundraisers. Messy buns and cozy slippers would still be waiting for you whenever that time came around again.
The elevator doors chimed open and you stepped inside, a perfectly manicured nail pressing the button for the penthouse floor. Your stomach lurched with the machinery as you felt yourself rising higher and higher. The street below you dropping far away and your eyes feeling like they were becoming level with the stars and moon overhead.
Each floor lit up as you passed it and you took one last steadying breath before the chaos ensued. The doors opened and relieved the huge packed space. Elbow to elbow, it seemed to pulse with loud noise and voracious conversation.
Rhythmic music, people talking, glasses clanging, laughter. You rubbed softly at the center of your chest, hoping for the knot to lessen just a little.
“There she is! We weren’t sure you were coming!” a gentle older man you’d met at a few previous fundraising events came forward. Your mind raced for what his name was, Carl? John? Surely, Thomas? Yeah Thomas. Maybe.
“Oh you know, can’t keep me away.” You managed through a plastered smile on your face. The corners of your mouth already beginning to ache. Thomas, or John gave a warm laugh.
“Well it’s very nice to see you again. Your man is in with the sharks right now. Might be best to give him a moment of reprieve.” You nodded before proceeding to push and squeeze through all the other guests at the event.
Multiple conversations and pleasantries were exchanged around you as you edged further into the space. Until your eyes finally landed on him. Towering over everyone around him to an almost laughable extent.
His dark brown hair, on the longer side but still trimmed neatly in all the right places. His blue eyes fixated on the man in front of him who appeared to be a little drunk, clearly telling a hilarious story.
Congressman James Buchanan Barnes.
He looked so damn fine in that custom-tailored suit, fabric stretched taut across his back and broad shoulders. Soft stubble beginning to reappear along his jaw despite having shaved recently for this occasion.
He looked very far off from the man you’d grown accustomed to. Soft evenings at home, cuddling on the couch, drinking in each other’s company and laughing until your stomachs hurt.
Here he looked professional. The man of the hour, rising above the circlet of people surrounding him. He exuded power here. The energy behind his expressions gave him away though. To you anyways.
He smiled but his lips were tight. He made eye contact but the light behind felt forced. He’d laugh alongside the others even though it felt weary. He looked tired and your throat tightened, wanting to jump in and rescue him for once.
You started, walking towards him and in a swift moment he caught sight of the movement and your eyes locked.
The icy blue of his eyes grew warm, the stiffness in his face melted away and the tense posture of his shoulders dropped and he smiled. Genuinely smiled at you. And it all felt worth it.
The dress, the lack of comfort food, the busy events and constant fundraisers he needed to attend.
No matter how long you’d been with him seeing all his attention on you and how it lit up his entire face. It still made your stomach flip. Butterflies nestling in deep.
Moving around the outskirts of the group before Bucky parted the few stragglers with a polite smile.
“Is there a congressman here? I have a few grievances to air.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, hand warmly finding the small of your back, mouth dipping forward to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.
Keeping it brief for the optics around you two, but you’d be lying if it still didn’t send tingles down to your toes.
“Is that so? Maybe I can be of assistance.” He played along, his nose grazing the shell of your ear, breathing deeply as your hair tickled against your jawline in the process.
“Like for instance,” you held up your empty palms to him. “There isn’t a drink in either of my hands.” The smile that broke across his face made you giggle. Vibrant and full of an ease that was hidden not a moment ago.
“Now that is something I can help with.”
You let him lead you across the chaotic room, being stopped no less than three times by random men in suits or elegantly dressed fellow politicians. The room oozed exclusivity.
Eventually the two of you reached the bar, bartenders rushing back and forth to accommodate all the drink orders coming in. Champagne bottles were popped, glasses of red wine stacked neatly for easy access. Lowball glasses glimmered with dark amber liquids.
“One Rosé.” Bucky winked at you and you rose onto your toes to place a soft kiss to his cheek. “And an old fashioned for me.” He pulled out a simple black wallet from under his suit jacket and tossed a few bills into the tip jar off to the side.
The one bartender noticed and nodded in gratitude, moving with ease to uncork a fresh bottle of rosé and poured a generous amount into a glass. Bucky slid the glass across the bar, gripping the stem as he moved it over to your waiting hand.
“I was afraid this was a cash bar for a second.” He grinned, sharing a quick thanks to the bartender who handed him his drink next.
“It’s been known to happen.”
“How tacky.” You couldn’t hide the cheeky grin you had on behind your glass.
“Rich people sure can be cheap.” He took a long sip from his own glass. Drinking hard liquor wasn’t his usual thing, more content to be stationed on the couch with a beer.
“Look at us being fancy.” You clinked your glass against his. “And you.” Raising the wine, a tad bit higher in front of him. “To my James, making the world a better place.”
Your voice is soft, almost drowned out by the hundreds of conversations happening around you, but he heard it. Eyes softening, lids lowering as he lifted his hand to your chin.
The cool metal of his fingertips brushing against your heated skin. His gaze lingering on yours just a moment too long to feel casual.
Bucky stepped in closer, the press of his body nearly flush against yours, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane through all this,” he murmured, low and sincere.
Warmth bloomed across your cheeks, chest feeling suddenly tight and constricted but not out of anxiety. Out of need. A deep desire to no longer be packed in a room like sardines.
You looked up at him, fingers lightly skimming the lapel of his jacket. “And how do I get repaid for such a vital public service?” you teased. He caught on quickly, seeing the mischief play across your eyes.
You lifted your free hand up to twist the ends of a long brown lock that had escaped from behind his ear. The back of your fingernails scratching the side of his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, sucking in a steadying breath.
“I think…we should leave.” He stated as your hand fell from his face to glide down, resting on his chest. Heart fluttering beneath your fingertips.
You fingered the silken fabric of his tie, toying with it back and forth as you spoke softly to him.
“That’s not very professional of you, Congressman.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I’ll blame it on Civic Fatigue.” A laugh bubbled in your chest at that.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.” He leaned forward, lips ghosting along your temple.
“It is now,” he whispered, his voice husky.
You could feel your resolve evaporate right there. Every inch of you was hyperaware of him, of the electricity that existed only in the slivers of quiet you got like this. His hand was still resting at the small of your back, but his thumb began tracing slow circles through the fabric.
“Did I mention how much I love this dress?”
“No, you didn’t.” A soft moan caught in the back of your throat as you felt the heat from him sinking into your skin through the thin fabric.
“Sure you don’t want to sneak away?”
“Maybe… no one will notice.” The way his hand dug a little harder into the flesh at your waist, knowing he’d gotten his way.
You let him take your hand, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. He gave a few succinct nods, tight smiles—his usual performance. But you could feel the tension building in the space between your clasped hands.
“Congressman Barnes!” An older man and his very tipsy wife approached you both out of the crowd. You felt Bucky’s hand flex in yours, irritation at being stopped once again.
“Senator Hudson.” He nodded at the woman to his side. “And Martha. How nice to see you both. I’m sorry but…”
“We were just talking about how excited we are for your upcoming initiatives!” The woman exclaimed, her words slurred. She went to take another gulp of her red wine when a chorus of laughter rang out behind you.
A wave of mirth rolled forward and shoulders were bumped and wine was sloshed. Martha’s to be exact. Splashing against your chest and a few stray dots splattering against the white of Bucky’s button up.
“Oh goodness!” Martha exclaimed “I am so sorry!” She hid her burgeoning laughter behind her now half empty wine glass.
“If you’ll excuse us.” Bucky wrapped his arm behind you, pulling you both off to the side. Red wine dripped between your cleavage and soaked into the front of your dress.
“Shit.” You flung your hands down, droplets scattering around your feet.
“Ok first we clean up then we leave?” He asked already placing your drinks on the nearest bar top. You could only nod, your mouth twisting up in frustration and cheeks a little hot with embarrassment now.
Navigating to the closest bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you and the noise from the party becoming muffled. You turned to the mirror examining the damage done.
“So much for looking put together.” You blotted some toilet tissue on your clavicle, sopping up as much liquid as possible.
“I think you look stunning.” Bucky paused behind you. You could feel him staring, feel the heat from his body as he hovered a breath away from your back.
Your eyes met his in the mirror. Heat, smoldering in them.
“Here.” He gestured to the tissue you’d been using, handing it over to him where he proceeded to dab at your shoulders, skimming along the inside of your arm where a stray rivulet of red wine had wandered.
“It got everywhere.” You said in disgust, beginning to feel it start to dry, growing sticky against your skin.
“Did it now?” Even here, in your soaked dress, surrounded by tons of people who felt more important than you, he somehow could still manage to fan that flame inside you. His voice deep, awakening the part of you that had fallen momentarily dormant with its unexpected wine shower.
He stepped back, removing his suit jacket, hanging it on the hook near the door. Fingers grazing the lock to make sure it was secure. Pushing up his sleeves, you turned to watch the fabric slowly being rolled up to his elbows.
How he could make such a small movement erotic was foreign to you. His metal arm shimmering in the soft bathroom lighting as he flexed his fingers, unconstrained by his shirt now.
“Where else are you wet?” He asked. The double meaning of that made you want to cross your legs, the marble sink cutting into your back as you leaned away to take him in.
“Everywhere.” You bit your lip in anticipation as you watched the dam break behind his eyes. All signs of the poised and composed politician were gone. The man before you resembled more of an animal. A hungry one at that.
Then he was on you, mouths clashing together, hand fisting into your hair. Tangling in the loose tresses and tugging you closer. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue laving across yours, hot and a faint taste of whiskey on his lips.
His hips ground into yours, hardness pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted in a pool to the floor. If his hands weren’t gripping you in place, it was a very real possibility.
“Bucky-“ your breath caught in a gasp as his mouth moved to the soft skin of your neck, kissing a heated path down to the notch where your shoulder met it.
“Mmmm.” Was all you got in response. Heat soaked in where his hand clutched to your back, and you were locked in place at your waist where his metal one rested.
Your hands gripped the edge of the counter, nails digging into the expensive marble. Then he dropped to his knees. One hand came up to loosen his tie, fingers tugging it free with a quick flick. Then undoing the top two buttons by his collar.
The stiff white fabric gaping open enough for you to see his throat. Swear in your lust induced haze you could see the pulse in his neck speed up.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night.” He murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your knee.
“Splashing wine on me?” Your tone was joking but the breathless nature of it gave you away. He knew it, could sense it even without you talking.
“A means to an end.”
He reached for a folded linen towel from the small counter and dabbed gently, reverently, at your thigh where a streak of red wine still lingered. But his fingers followed the cloth, bare, hot, wanting.
You felt your breath hitch, the cloth dropped to the floor forgotten, his mouth eagerly replacing it. Soft at first, the scratch of his stubble against your bare skin driving you wild as he moved upwards.
Open mouthed now, tongue tracing every area of your thigh. Where the wine had touched you first, and places where it hadn’t. His palms held you steady as he worked his way up, slow, torturous devotion behind every movement.
Hands gliding up your legs pushing your dress higher and higher. Feeling the hot air escaping his mouth as he reached the apex of your thighs.
“You always manage to do this to me.” Your eyes had fluttered shut, anticipation streaking through your body. “Distract me in the best way.” He propped your one leg over his shoulder.
You wanted to say something. A clever remark, a thoughtful quip, something- anything. But your mind wasn’t focused on thinking, your body had taken over and your whole world shrunk down to this very bathroom and the feeling of wherever his body met yours.
“Bucky,” you whispered, hips arching toward his mouth.
“Shh,” he grinned up at you, eyes dark and devilish. His metal hand snaked its way up your body and with a sudden tug you felt your underwear pop off at the seams, reduced to a useless bundle of lace.
And then his mouth was on you. Ravenous. Tongue diving so deep your legs already shaking. Fingers gripping his hair, an ache in the center of your palms as you held on for dear life.
You whimpered feeling his hands pull you forward, fully flush against his wicked mouth. He moaned into you, your head falling back at the vibration that sank into your core.
“Oh god.” One hand still held tightly to his hair, the other scratching for purchase on the back of his shirt.
Your back hit the cool mirror as you braced yourself, hips moving instinctively against his face. His grip on your thighs tightened—firm but possessive—and he groaned like he couldn't get enough. Every flick of his tongue, every hum of pleasure from his throat sent shocks through you.
He devoured you.
He pulled back just long enough to murmur, voice wrecked and lips glistening, “You taste better than that wine ever could.” Before resuming his tortuous ministrations, your body wracked with pleasure, the tight coiling sensation in your belly growing stronger with each stroke.
He knew your body like the back of his hand and when his lips finally sucked around the most sensitive part of you, thigh trembling against his shoulder you came undone.
A high-pitched gasp escaped your lips as he finished you, your body turning molten and liquid beneath his grip. Blood rushed in your ears as you managed to take a shaky breath.
He looked up at you, pupils blown wide, barely a ring of blue visible. Rising to his feet slowly, never removing his hands from your body, the bottom of your feet barely scraping the ground beneath them.
“You’re shaking.” He whispered against your lips, mouth still wet with you.
“I think you are too.” A tremor shifted through his body, his chest heaving under your hands. Your fingers crawling up the front of his shirt and making quick work of the buttons there. Before dropping to his belt, tugging at the loop and zipper.
Both of you panting again, his pants dropping down, barely touching the floor before he had you turned around. Back pressed against his chest, palms braced against the bathroom sink.
“I didn’t see this happening tonight.” You gulped in air as he kissed your neck, this time possessive and fierce. His muscled legs pressing into the back of your own.
“Neither did I, but I’m glad it is.” Hot breath fanned across your shoulder. “You okay?” He asked, palming himself over his boxers, desperate and hard. Your thighs clenched, hips pushing back into him. Dying for his touch again.
“Yes. I- I need you.” That was all it took, dropping his boxers with focused urgency, burying himself inside you in one smooth thrust.
You gasped, bracing yourself against the counter as he sank in deep. The stretch was intense, perfect, everything. He stayed still for a beat, forehead against your shoulder, groaning as he adjusted to the heat of you.
“Fuck.” He hissed. “Feel so good, every fuckin’ time.”
Then he started to move, slowly. Deep grinding strokes, setting an even pace. You choked out a soft noise and his hand moved up to gently cover your mouth.
“Can’t let them in on our secret.” he murmured against your ear, rocking into you harder now. “Don’t want the whole damn party knowing what I’m doing to you.”
He picked up, moving faster, hips slapping against the curve of your ass. With each thrust, try as you might, a whimper would escape. A soft gasp, as his movements grew more frantic.
Fingers gripping you tightly right where he needed you. The sharp metal hand biting into your waist, knowing there’d be marks there when you were done.
Your eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, head falling back onto his shoulder as he drove into you faster, deeper. Blinking open lazily through the haze around you, seeing your forms moving in the mirror in front of you. Desperate. Hungry.
You moaned, walls fluttering tight around him. He swore into the side of your neck. Nose pressed into your hair.
“You feel so damn good. Gonna come so hard inside you if you keep squeezing me like that.”
“Bucky—” your voice broke on a whimper, pleasure building impossibly fast, molten and electric and right there. You were so close.
“Come for me darlin’ let me feel you fall apart.” His fingers reached between your legs with practiced ease, touching right where you needed him to. Then you shattered, back arching, mouth open, moaning louder than you intended as your orgasm tore through you.
He followed just moments later with a guttural moan, pressing so deep into you it felt like he’d never leave. His hips stilled as he emptied into you, trembling hands holding on like you were the only steady thing left in the universe.
The bathroom fell silent, your mind still spinning from how good it felt. How full you felt. Your breaths coming uneven, and heavy but seamlessly intertwined. His hands softened against you, no longer pinning you to the spot.
“I love you.” He murmured, kissing the back of your neck. When he finally pulled back, he did it gently, giving your shoulder one more kiss before stepping away. You straightened slowly, legs still shaky, catching his eye in the mirror.
“I love you too.”
His hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, shirt somewhere on the floor, tie half-forgotten and dangling from his pocket. He looked like sin and satisfaction all in one—and entirely yours.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured, tugging your dress down over your hips and smoothing it carefully, like he was trying to undo the evidence of what just happened. Even though you both knew you looked and felt, thoroughly ruined.
“We look guilty as hell.” You remarked, dabbing at the lipstick now smeared across your chin. He smirked, using his thumb to wipe away some of the lipstick residue under your lip.
You were just readjusting your dress as Bucky buttoned his shirt back up when a knock came at the door. You both froze.
“Everything ok in there?” A voice called out, sounded like a younger man. Maybe one of the servers.
“Uh- yes. Just cleaning up some spilled wine.” Bucky cleared his throat, trying to hide the crack in his voice.
There was a long pause. Then:
“…Right. Well. Party’s winding down.”
“Be right out,” you added, forcing your voice to sound vaguely composed. You both heard the footsteps retreat, looks meeting then bursting into laughter. Bucky just shook his head, grinning as he buttoned up his shirt—crookedly—and grabbed his jacket from the hook.
“I don’t know if I can look anyone in the face right now.” You giggled, attempting to fix your hair, then giving up on it.
“We weren’t very subtle.” He added adjusting his sleeves before offering you his arm.
You pressed your hand to your mouth, stifling a giggle. “Let’s go home before someone starts taking pictures.” He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, typing on the screen briefly before shoving it in his back pocket.
“Car has been called.” He winked at you, pushing the door open and stepping to the side holding it open..
“You’re such a gentleman.” You remarked, subtly turning over your shoulder to look back at him. “Except when you’re not.”
He smiled that slow, Bucky Barnes smile. Full of boyish charm and bad ideas. And you loved every second of it.
“Let’s go home.” You placed a searing kiss to his lips, letting your hands graze the back of his neck. “Sounds like a perfect plan, Congressman.”
Kinktober Prompt: Glove Kink (plus a little exhibitionism)
Billy Russo x Female Reader
Thumb and forefinger capturing your chin in his gentle but firm grasp. Turning your head one way then another, bottomless eyes examining every inch of your heated skin.
His hand release your jaw, moving in soft strokes down the column of your neck, the smooth drag of the leather sending pin pricks of pleasure over your skin, certain goose flesh was spreading over your arms.
Deft gloved fingers toyed with the strap of your dress, lifting the fabric and releasing the tautness, a fleeting sting as it snapped against you.
“Take this off.”
Shifting, shivering at the tone of his voice. Something about the gravely timbre of it caused you to clench your thighs closer together. Giving away the effect it had.
“Here?” In his office? With people outside who could easily hear, or worse-walk in?
His hand shot back out, seizing your chin once more. His thumb brushing over the fullness of your bottom lip before pushing it fully into your mouth.
“I’m not asking.”
The taste of the leather on the flat of your tongue, the coolness of the material and the heat radiating from his body as he leaned over you.
Breath fanning against your skin, a fine sheen of sweat beginning. Your hands shook, with anticipation, his searing gaze on you.
Molten darkness watching your every move. One strap, then the other. Sliding down your shoulders. The corset form of the dress didn’t require a bra and you could see Billy’s realization that no strapless garment lay in wait for him to remove.
A few strands of hair hung in his eyes, the prim polished ceo was gone and the man before you was something else completely.
A wild look, hungry, stared at you bare before him. Jekyll became Hyde, and the unhinged energy emanating from his very fibres had you dripping wet.
The fabric shifted from under your bottom and Billy dropped to one knee, hooking his fingers into the garment, tearing the last shreds of it away from your body. Discarded in a heap completely forgotten.
“So…beautiful.” His hands roamed unencumbered over your body. A slim band at your hips from your underwear was all the separated you from being fully nude.
The gloves no longer felt cool as they had before, but warmer as they roamed the slopes and planes of your form.
Weather the heat was from your own body or from his hands rising in temperature in tandem you weren’t sure.
He leaned forward planting a long slow kiss to the crook of your neck, stubble scratching you in the most delicious way possible.
You didn’t try to hide the soft moan that escaped your lips, responding to his hot mouth. He kissed you again if only to pull another noise from you.
It worked.
This time he captured your lips with his own, savoring the sweet sound, tasting the edge of it on his tongue.
“Mine. All mine.” His voice was so deep- hoarse. “Why don’t we show the world what’s mine?”
You quirked a brow at him, curious at the implications. He nodded behind you. To the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the darkened city.
Storm clouds and rain covered New York, it looked like a proper scene from a noir film.
His eyes were black. Like his gloves and the customs tailored suits he wore.
The warm leather pressed to the small of your back, heat pulsing out as his fingers splayed open. Firm and unyielding as your body ran flush with the cold glass pane in front of you.
Shivers wracked your body, nipples hardening against the cold exterior of the building.
Breath creating clouds of condensation that traveled downward, dripping in rivulets at both your feet.
Bare feet juxtaposed to shiny dark shoes of the man behind you. His hands traveled down your body, the soft texture weaving along your arms, down your back, caressing each curve that came at him with selfish slowness.
The heated leather reached the junction of your thighs and a single finger spread you eliciting a gasp from your parted lips.
“Do that again.”
A second finger joined, stroking you openly, strong but not rough. Your forehead met the glass as you struggled to catch your breath.
A coiling sensation began to rise in your stomach, muscles tensing. Fingers flexing against the glass, squeaking as they tried to find purchase that wasn’t there.
Billy’s body pressed against your back, rising and falling with his silent laughter.
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“When will you quit and come work for me? You’re far too good a worker for that law office.” Billy smiled seeing you walk in with a stack of folders and papers needing signing. You merely shrugged, winking at him in the process, you loved both of your banter but you sensed it edging towards something more and more each visit.
“I get taken care of just fine thank you very much. Here Mr. Donavan wants you to sign this and have a look over these documents.” You handed him the fattest folder, which he took, barely scanned the first page before snapping it shut with one hand and tossing it onto his desk behind him. Moving closer to you,forcing your backside to brush against the lip of his desk.
“I’d give you a raise, more paid vacation time and you’d have a corner office view overlooking the park. Don’t tell me he can offer you all that as well?” You felt yourself sucking in a breath, trying to play it cool but all too aware of how close in proximity he was to you, like a panther stalking it’s prey.
“Mr.Russo…”
“How many times have I asked you to call me Billy?” He asked the corner of his mouth twitching up as your lips parted, choking on the next word.
“Billy…I assure you I’m doing quite alright.” At this he held his hand out for the rest of the folders in your arms which you hesitantly handed over to him. They were documents for him regarding Anvil and it’s inner workings but you felt so exposed to him now without your arms crossed in front of your chest holding them to you.
He in turn also let them drop with a loud thud on his desk, right by your back. His arms came to rest on either side of you planted on the dark wooden surface. Even hunched over in this position he still had a few inches on you, body and face alarmingly close to yours. His dark eyes were full of mischief as you felt them rove over your body, hidden under your work attire. His right hand left the desk to make its way downwards, grasping the hem of your skirt between his thumb and forefingers, testing the fabric, feeling the thickness of it.
“I like this skirt.” You felt heat creep into your face before responding.
“Thank you I just got it back from the seamstress.” At that his one eyebrow rose in question, still toying with the fabric.
“Oh? What happened to it?” You could barely think, with each swipe of his fingers over the fabric you could feel his knuckles scraping against your bare knees, a subtle power play no doubt and you were falling- hook, line and sinker.
“It got caught on a filing cabinet handle and ripped. Thankfully I had some safety pins to keep me decent the rest of the work day.” The look in his eyes seared into your brain, excitement flashed brightly in those eyes, you could practically see him imagining you in work the skirt ripped and torn, one move away from falling to the floor. Two could play this game.
“Ya know that should fall under workers comp of some sort. Pay to cover your costs to fix it, being in such a …harsh work environment.” You couldn’t stifle the laugh that you let loose.
“I don’t think fashion faux pas count as tax deductible. Mr- err, Billy.” You swore when his eyes briefly closed his eyes were on the verge of rolling back into his head at your use of his name.
“If you worked for me I’d have covered it.” You swallowed the tiny bit of saliva that was in your mouth, his predator eyes narrowed when he noticed. “In fact, I’d have bought you a whole new wardrobe to make up for it.” His hand thankfully released your skirt to settle back in its rightful place on the desk again.
“Maybe I’d have let you.” Not the response he was expecting but one that sent a thrill through you, noticing how his muscles tensed under the taut fabric of his suit, stretched along his back from how he was positioned. “What would you have bought me?” You needed to go, to return to work but this was just, too fun. Seeing the CEO before you fighting for control, you could see it in the way a muscle ticked in his jaw, how his eyes darkened dangerously, the knuckles on his clenched hands turning white.
“Maybe we’d start with a new blouse…” he leaned forward further and you felt your arms come behind you, elbows resting on the desk surface as his hand came up to fiddle with the collar of your work shirt. His long deft fingers traced along your neck ever so briefly and you swore he must’ve been able to feel your pulse fluttering under their touch. When his hand moved again it brushed past your collar bones and tugged at the first closure, the button popped open easily exposing more of your chest to him. “One with better buttons.” As his hand worked its devilish magic again another button popped open revealing the top of your lacey black bra.
He looked positively devious as his greedy eyes examined the newly exposed skin, free to breathe.
“And?” You wanted to stop, to be a good assistant and return to your law office but every cell in your body wanted to stay, to continue.
“And-“ he said aloud, hand tracing down the front of you, resting between your breasts, his hand rising and falling erratically in time with your shuddering breath. “More items like this.” His fingertips danced along the lace trim admiring it before placing his mouth over top of your left breast, an open mouthed kiss, then you felt his tongue dart out to taste you, then a brief suction that had you moaning out loud. He pulled back to lock eyes with you, before lavishing the same attention on your right side.
You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle any more noises, his hot mouth exploring across your barely clothed chest.
“Ah ah, sweetheart I want to Hear you. In my office we have an open communication policy. Don’t worry you’ll get that in the manual when you start.” Before you could mutter a response his other hand left it’s place on the desk and you felt his fingers work up your shirt, untucking if from your skirt and sliding up your back.
“Mr.Russo!” You gasped feeling your bra pop open and fall to the floor just as his mouth closed over your puckered nipple, tongue swirling around the hardened nub as you let loose another desperate sounding sigh.
“Please call me Billy. We do have a unique working relationship don’t we?” You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to, his mouth working miracles against both your nipples, hand kneading and caressing whichever one wasn’t in his mouth. You could feel a tight coiling sensation in your stomach and a torturing ache between you legs. You didn’t hide the whiny noise you made when he pulled away, his lips reddened and wet. “No I’d buy you fancier underthings, expensive ones, ones that are easy to take off. Ones I’d know you’re wearing even if I can’t see them. Then I’d ask to see them on our lunch break, would you let me?”
You were convinced this man was the devil. Teasing you, KNOWING he was teasing you, until you were just a trembling mess before him. The hard wood of the desk bit into the back of you elbows, causing you to lean further back still.
“Y-yes I would.” His head drops low and he lets out a low groan at your words, before lifting it up to examine your skirt once more. Hands drifting to the sides, skating down the back, giving your backside a generous squeeze before hoisting you up and into a seated position on his desk. You squealed at the sudden movement then let your own head fall back as you felt him kneading your thighs over the skirt fabric, tracing up the waistband, plucking at it until it snapped against the soft flesh of your lower back, a cry escaping your lips.
“I’d buy you new skirts all the time, to replace the ones I rip off of you.” The zipper slides down and you shudder feeling the cool air against your bare skin. “Of course they’ll be much shorter than this, so I can see your ass much better from behind my desk as you walk by. And dresses, beautiful dresses that showcase this work of art you’re trying to hide.”
“Mr. Russo- Billy, I-“ there were no words. Your world had shrunk down to each next movement of his hands on your poor aching body. Every new sensation shooting through your nerves, as he trailed up and down the length of your skirt, squeezing your hips and massaging your thighs down to your knees as his fingers grazed back up they paused, finding the seam that had been stitched back up from where it’d caught on the handle. His eyes, black as night caught your own, filled with need, with desire. He never broke contact with yours as his hand gripped at the now flimsy feeling fabric and he pulled, tearing the seam open along with the rest of the skirt, tattered fabric falling to the floor uselessly.
Your blouse had fluttered off at some point in both your movements until you sat on his desk before him in just your pantries. Underwear in a light shade of pink contrasted by the darkness of the black bra you’d been wearing, delicate, sweet. He growled deep in his chest when his eyes lingered on them. You swore you could feel the heat from his stare warming your core as he intently gazed upon it.
“My God.” Was all he said, hands traveling from where they had rested on your knees up to fondle the soft pale fabric. His head shot up from where it had been looking down, lingering. “Lean back.”
You gave him a questioning look, unsure of if you should or not. If you had the strength to move at all. But you pushed away until your back fell against the cool hard wood of his desk, still attempting to prop yourself up to watch him. “Back.” He said again before realizing the stacks of papers and Manila folders you’d brought were impeding your ability to do so. At that he hovered over you, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your neck, before he pushed all the documents off to the floor. Papers flying, scattering along the ground like confetti, allowing you to fully fall down, a squeaky noise jumping from you as you felt Billy’s touch return to your legs.
“These….we’ll get you more of these.” He said, voice husky, two fingers slipping under the band of your pantries. The light fabric did nothing to conceal the wetness dripping from between your legs, a dark spot growing on the pink fabric. Billy felt himself come undone at the sight, tearing the offending fabric off of you and putting it in his back pocket.
“I promise I’ll be a good boss.” He said, fingers trailing up and down your thigh, scaling upwards over your stomach and caressing your breasts before lightly pinching one of your nipples. “We’ll be working closely together, so meetings like this will be a regular occurrence. I hope you don’t mind- I just like to…keep on top of things.” You nodded vigorously not trusting your voice wouldn’t crack. Billy smirked, removing his own jacket and tossing it on top of the pile of your clothing, rolling up his sleeves, the large expensive watch he had on his wrist clinking with each movement.
You watched him, eyes wide, waiting, feeling so exposed, wondering how it’d gotten so far, how you’d ended up laying on Mr.Russo’s desk when all you’d been asked to do was drop off some paperwork. You’d done it a hundred times before, but with each time your attraction to him became more evident and apparently it wasn’t one sided.
“Alright darlin’ let me see that perfect pussy.” You blushed hard at his words, hesitating but feeling his hands on your knees pushing them open, the feral noise he made seeing you dripping for him nearly had you coming already. The prominent swell in his slacks had you clenching around nothing, he stood back, running a large hand over the front of his pants, cursing as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.
In a split second you saw him drop to one knee then you felt him. The flat of his tongue running straight up the center of you, your hands flew to the sides of the desk, grasping against the edge, needing to grip something. Billy groaned against your pussy, tongue laving punishing circles around your clit before skillfully sucking on the bundle of nerves before pulling back, a wet pop sounding before he looked up at you.
“Bet you Mr.Donavan doesn’t do this for you. Doesn’t know how to make his girl feel good.” You groaned at his words, gripping the desk so tightly your fingers felt they would bleed. He tapped on your knee, then slid a long fingers through your folds. “Tell me. Does he?”
“N-no..”
“No what?” You bit your lip, sucking in a shallow breath.
“He doesn’t.. make me feel this good.” A wicked grin.
“Does he buy you pretty things? Pretty things like his pretty assistant?” You shook your head, feeling his thumb swipe over your clit again.
“Use your words sweetheart.”
“No. He doesn’t-“ his tongue was on you again, sucking, lapping up your juices, filthy noises coming from below, when he stopped you wanted to cry out at the loss of contact.
“Go on”
“He doesn’t know how to make me feel good. O-or, buy me pretty things.” Billy tsk’d at that, disappointment evident on his face.
“Such a shame. People don’t know how to treat employees these days.” At that he pushed up, unbuckling his pants, letting them fall to the floor, metal buckle clanking. You swallowed thickly seeing the outline of him in his boxers, a new found ache shooting through you. He rolled down his boxers, cock springing forth, hard and leaking. You pushed up onto your elbows to get a better view, he only chuckled, one hand braces against your chest and pushing you back down to the desk gently.
“Don’t worry beautiful, we’ll have more than enough time to see each other once you start working.” You moaned wantonly, but stopped short feeling the tip of him pressing against your entrance insistently, hot and large.
“Billy-“ he paused watching you, waiting for your response. “I can start on Monday.” His devilish grin was back, and he pushed into you, both of you crying out at the sensation.
You felt stretched to your limits, pain skirted pleasure and each new movement had you begging for more. Every thrust of his hips had you rising to meet him stroke for stroke, his hands grip your tightly, feeling him deeper and deeper inside you.
Billy nearly growls against your neck, kissing you up and down as his hips speed up their pace, pulling a sharp gasp from you. You feel yourself creeping closer and closer to the edge.
“Billy I’m- I’m gonna”
“Come for me darlin’, “ you squeeze your eyes shut focusing only on the flurry of pleasure punctuated by each new buck of Billy’s hips. He nips at your neck and you’re clenching hard around him as your orgasm tears through you.
His hips stutter and he groans as he comes after you, thrusting a few more times to milk both your releases for all they’re worth. His head falls to your chest, his ragged breath tickling your skin, as your run a hand along the side of his face, both of you spent and sweaty.
He laughs breathlessly, pushing up off of you, but not before placing a trail of kisses along your chest up your neck and finally a long slow one on your lips.
You chase his mouth when he pulls away, running a hand through his mussed hair. He helps you sit up, paying special care to cleaning you up as you enjoy the feel of his body still in close proximity to yours. You look around at your clothes bundled on the ground, the shirt and bra were still salvageable but the skirt… Billy noticed where you were looking, a beat of recognition and he was up moving towards the closet in his office.
Opening the door he pulled out a hanger, on it a stunning slinky black dress. Your mouth gaped open admiring it as he walked towards you, a shit eating grin on his gorgeous face, holding the dress out to you.
“Here, I was planning to give this to you when you started on Monday but I think It’ll get some use now.” You pulled the dress from the hanger, skimming over the opulent fabric and eyes widening seeing the designer label, looking back up into his dark eyes which glimmered brightly.
“You knew I was gonna relent didn’t you?” He only grinned wider, moving behind you to pull the zipper slowly up your back, his fingers skimming your heated skin as he fixed the closure securely at the top. “What am I going to say when Mr.Donavan asks why I’m dressed in a completely different outfit?” You giggle at the thought.
Billy’s hands fell to your waist,pulling you close to him as he snarled teasingly in the crook of your shoulder.
“Tell him the truth.” You stilled at that thought, before he continued. “That you got a promotion.”
Tags: 18+, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Obviously smut, oral, p in v
Author Notes: Back from the dead to give you my first Bucky fic (I only write for people who have alliterative B names /Ben Barnes/Bucky Barnes- we all have limits)
Summary: Bucky hates fundraisers, but they are a reality for him now being a congressman. Thankfully he has you to make sure they're not all boring.
The city was an aglow tonight, the moon high overhead casting a silvery blanket over the pavement and all its inhabitants. Normally on a Friday night while everyone was going out and dancing or drinking until sun up you were used to staying in.
The siren song of sweatpants, Chinese food and a few episodes of an old reliable sitcom to ease you off into slumber called to you. Stars overhead twinkled brilliantly and laughter from a passing crowd coated your unconventional evening.
You tugged at the hem of the slinky red dress the saleswoman had talked you into. “Classy yet statement making”. She had insisted, helping zip you up as your hands skimmed over the front. Silky fabric that felt cool to the touch and covered enough of your legs and chest to be considered tasteful but a slight drop across your chest to skirt the line of danger.
It was way out of your comfort zone and yet it spoke to you from the hanger the second she’d brought it in. Your reflection in the dressing room had stared back and you barely recognized her. She was elegant. Perfectly poised and gently coiffed. Not a strand of hair out of place.
You supposed this was going to be more of your life now. Smiling and being amicable to a certain extent. Pristine to the best of your abilities. You wanted to jump out of your own skin at the thought of this going in for years. Decades maybe.
A shiver danced across your shoulders at the thought, not helped by the cool breeze rustling the branches of a nearby tree as you rubbed at your arms, attempting to warm yourself briefly. The small baguette bag clutched tightly in your fist as you could see the building come into view.
Large groups of other finely dressed people corralled inside. The soft noise of the street amped up another level as your heels clacked ever closer to the doormen watching and waiting for your arrival. The one man nodded at you as you gave him a small polite small.
The large ornate glass doors opening wide to let you pass. A million conversations bombarded you at once, as couples, and groups crowded around the elevators waiting for the telltale ding and to shove themselves in to capacity.
You didn’t force yourself into the last ride and instead enjoyed the brief moment of silence as the doors closed. The polished golden mirroring back how you appeared. Truly looking the part, congressman’s girlfriend. Politics. The idea made your head hurt some days.
But you loved him and he loved you and this is what partners did. Show up and support each other. Even if it meant your next few, or twenty, weekends consisted of fundraisers. Messy buns and cozy slippers would still be waiting for you whenever that time came around again.
The elevator doors chimed open and you stepped inside, a perfectly manicured nail pressing the button for the penthouse floor. Your stomach lurched with the machinery as you felt yourself rising higher and higher. The street below you dropping far away and your eyes feeling like they were becoming level with the stars and moon overhead.
Each floor lit up as you passed it and you took one last steadying breath before the chaos ensued. The doors opened and relieved the huge packed space. Elbow to elbow, it seemed to pulse with loud noise and voracious conversation.
Rhythmic music, people talking, glasses clanging, laughter. You rubbed softly at the center of your chest, hoping for the knot to lessen just a little.
“There she is! We weren’t sure you were coming!” a gentle older man you’d met at a few previous fundraising events came forward. Your mind raced for what his name was, Carl? John? Surely, Thomas? Yeah Thomas. Maybe.
“Oh you know, can’t keep me away.” You managed through a plastered smile on your face. The corners of your mouth already beginning to ache. Thomas, or John gave a warm laugh.
“Well it’s very nice to see you again. Your man is in with the sharks right now. Might be best to give him a moment of reprieve.” You nodded before proceeding to push and squeeze through all the other guests at the event.
Multiple conversations and pleasantries were exchanged around you as you edged further into the space. Until your eyes finally landed on him. Towering over everyone around him to an almost laughable extent.
His dark brown hair, on the longer side but still trimmed neatly in all the right places. His blue eyes fixated on the man in front of him who appeared to be a little drunk, clearly telling a hilarious story.
Congressman James Buchanan Barnes.
He looked so damn fine in that custom-tailored suit, fabric stretched taut across his back and broad shoulders. Soft stubble beginning to reappear along his jaw despite having shaved recently for this occasion.
He looked very far off from the man you’d grown accustomed to. Soft evenings at home, cuddling on the couch, drinking in each other’s company and laughing until your stomachs hurt.
Here he looked professional. The man of the hour, rising above the circlet of people surrounding him. He exuded power here. The energy behind his expressions gave him away though. To you anyways.
He smiled but his lips were tight. He made eye contact but the light behind felt forced. He’d laugh alongside the others even though it felt weary. He looked tired and your throat tightened, wanting to jump in and rescue him for once.
You started, walking towards him and in a swift moment he caught sight of the movement and your eyes locked.
The icy blue of his eyes grew warm, the stiffness in his face melted away and the tense posture of his shoulders dropped and he smiled. Genuinely smiled at you. And it all felt worth it.
The dress, the lack of comfort food, the busy events and constant fundraisers he needed to attend.
No matter how long you’d been with him seeing all his attention on you and how it lit up his entire face. It still made your stomach flip. Butterflies nestling in deep.
Moving around the outskirts of the group before Bucky parted the few stragglers with a polite smile.
“Is there a congressman here? I have a few grievances to air.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, hand warmly finding the small of your back, mouth dipping forward to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.
Keeping it brief for the optics around you two, but you’d be lying if it still didn’t send tingles down to your toes.
“Is that so? Maybe I can be of assistance.” He played along, his nose grazing the shell of your ear, breathing deeply as your hair tickled against your jawline in the process.
“Like for instance,” you held up your empty palms to him. “There isn’t a drink in either of my hands.” The smile that broke across his face made you giggle. Vibrant and full of an ease that was hidden not a moment ago.
“Now that is something I can help with.”
You let him lead you across the chaotic room, being stopped no less than three times by random men in suits or elegantly dressed fellow politicians. The room oozed exclusivity.
Eventually the two of you reached the bar, bartenders rushing back and forth to accommodate all the drink orders coming in. Champagne bottles were popped, glasses of red wine stacked neatly for easy access. Lowball glasses glimmered with dark amber liquids.
“One Rosé.” Bucky winked at you and you rose onto your toes to place a soft kiss to his cheek. “And an old fashioned for me.” He pulled out a simple black wallet from under his suit jacket and tossed a few bills into the tip jar off to the side.
The one bartender noticed and nodded in gratitude, moving with ease to uncork a fresh bottle of rosé and poured a generous amount into a glass. Bucky slid the glass across the bar, gripping the stem as he moved it over to your waiting hand.
“I was afraid this was a cash bar for a second.” He grinned, sharing a quick thanks to the bartender who handed him his drink next.
“It’s been known to happen.”
“How tacky.” You couldn’t hide the cheeky grin you had on behind your glass.
“Rich people sure can be cheap.” He took a long sip from his own glass. Drinking hard liquor wasn’t his usual thing, more content to be stationed on the couch with a beer.
“Look at us being fancy.” You clinked your glass against his. “And you.” Raising the wine, a tad bit higher in front of him. “To my James, making the world a better place.”
Your voice is soft, almost drowned out by the hundreds of conversations happening around you, but he heard it. Eyes softening, lids lowering as he lifted his hand to your chin.
The cool metal of his fingertips brushing against your heated skin. His gaze lingering on yours just a moment too long to feel casual.
Bucky stepped in closer, the press of his body nearly flush against yours, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane through all this,” he murmured, low and sincere.
Warmth bloomed across your cheeks, chest feeling suddenly tight and constricted but not out of anxiety. Out of need. A deep desire to no longer be packed in a room like sardines.
You looked up at him, fingers lightly skimming the lapel of his jacket. “And how do I get repaid for such a vital public service?” you teased. He caught on quickly, seeing the mischief play across your eyes.
You lifted your free hand up to twist the ends of a long brown lock that had escaped from behind his ear. The back of your fingernails scratching the side of his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, sucking in a steadying breath.
“I think…we should leave.” He stated as your hand fell from his face to glide down, resting on his chest. Heart fluttering beneath your fingertips.
You fingered the silken fabric of his tie, toying with it back and forth as you spoke softly to him.
“That’s not very professional of you, Congressman.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I’ll blame it on Civic Fatigue.” A laugh bubbled in your chest at that.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.” He leaned forward, lips ghosting along your temple.
“It is now,” he whispered, his voice husky.
You could feel your resolve evaporate right there. Every inch of you was hyperaware of him, of the electricity that existed only in the slivers of quiet you got like this. His hand was still resting at the small of your back, but his thumb began tracing slow circles through the fabric.
“Did I mention how much I love this dress?”
“No, you didn’t.” A soft moan caught in the back of your throat as you felt the heat from him sinking into your skin through the thin fabric.
“Sure you don’t want to sneak away?”
“Maybe… no one will notice.” The way his hand dug a little harder into the flesh at your waist, knowing he’d gotten his way.
You let him take your hand, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. He gave a few succinct nods, tight smiles—his usual performance. But you could feel the tension building in the space between your clasped hands.
“Congressman Barnes!” An older man and his very tipsy wife approached you both out of the crowd. You felt Bucky’s hand flex in yours, irritation at being stopped once again.
“Senator Hudson.” He nodded at the woman to his side. “And Martha. How nice to see you both. I’m sorry but…”
“We were just talking about how excited we are for your upcoming initiatives!” The woman exclaimed, her words slurred. She went to take another gulp of her red wine when a chorus of laughter rang out behind you.
A wave of mirth rolled forward and shoulders were bumped and wine was sloshed. Martha’s to be exact. Splashing against your chest and a few stray dots splattering against the white of Bucky’s button up.
“Oh goodness!” Martha exclaimed “I am so sorry!” She hid her burgeoning laughter behind her now half empty wine glass.
“If you’ll excuse us.” Bucky wrapped his arm behind you, pulling you both off to the side. Red wine dripped between your cleavage and soaked into the front of your dress.
“Shit.” You flung your hands down, droplets scattering around your feet.
“Ok first we clean up then we leave?” He asked already placing your drinks on the nearest bar top. You could only nod, your mouth twisting up in frustration and cheeks a little hot with embarrassment now.
Navigating to the closest bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you and the noise from the party becoming muffled. You turned to the mirror examining the damage done.
“So much for looking put together.” You blotted some toilet tissue on your clavicle, sopping up as much liquid as possible.
“I think you look stunning.” Bucky paused behind you. You could feel him staring, feel the heat from his body as he hovered a breath away from your back.
Your eyes met his in the mirror. Heat, smoldering in them.
“Here.” He gestured to the tissue you’d been using, handing it over to him where he proceeded to dab at your shoulders, skimming along the inside of your arm where a stray rivulet of red wine had wandered.
“It got everywhere.” You said in disgust, beginning to feel it start to dry, growing sticky against your skin.
“Did it now?” Even here, in your soaked dress, surrounded by tons of people who felt more important than you, he somehow could still manage to fan that flame inside you. His voice deep, awakening the part of you that had fallen momentarily dormant with its unexpected wine shower.
He stepped back, removing his suit jacket, hanging it on the hook near the door. Fingers grazing the lock to make sure it was secure. Pushing up his sleeves, you turned to watch the fabric slowly being rolled up to his elbows.
How he could make such a small movement erotic was foreign to you. His metal arm shimmering in the soft bathroom lighting as he flexed his fingers, unconstrained by his shirt now.
“Where else are you wet?” He asked. The double meaning of that made you want to cross your legs, the marble sink cutting into your back as you leaned away to take him in.
“Everywhere.” You bit your lip in anticipation as you watched the dam break behind his eyes. All signs of the poised and composed politician were gone. The man before you resembled more of an animal. A hungry one at that.
Then he was on you, mouths clashing together, hand fisting into your hair. Tangling in the loose tresses and tugging you closer. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue laving across yours, hot and a faint taste of whiskey on his lips.
His hips ground into yours, hardness pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted in a pool to the floor. If his hands weren’t gripping you in place, it was a very real possibility.
“Bucky-“ your breath caught in a gasp as his mouth moved to the soft skin of your neck, kissing a heated path down to the notch where your shoulder met it.
“Mmmm.” Was all you got in response. Heat soaked in where his hand clutched to your back, and you were locked in place at your waist where his metal one rested.
Your hands gripped the edge of the counter, nails digging into the expensive marble. Then he dropped to his knees. One hand came up to loosen his tie, fingers tugging it free with a quick flick. Then undoing the top two buttons by his collar.
The stiff white fabric gaping open enough for you to see his throat. Swear in your lust induced haze you could see the pulse in his neck speed up.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night.” He murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your knee.
“Splashing wine on me?” Your tone was joking but the breathless nature of it gave you away. He knew it, could sense it even without you talking.
“A means to an end.”
He reached for a folded linen towel from the small counter and dabbed gently, reverently, at your thigh where a streak of red wine still lingered. But his fingers followed the cloth, bare, hot, wanting.
You felt your breath hitch, the cloth dropped to the floor forgotten, his mouth eagerly replacing it. Soft at first, the scratch of his stubble against your bare skin driving you wild as he moved upwards.
Open mouthed now, tongue tracing every area of your thigh. Where the wine had touched you first, and places where it hadn’t. His palms held you steady as he worked his way up, slow, torturous devotion behind every movement.
Hands gliding up your legs pushing your dress higher and higher. Feeling the hot air escaping his mouth as he reached the apex of your thighs.
“You always manage to do this to me.” Your eyes had fluttered shut, anticipation streaking through your body. “Distract me in the best way.” He propped your one leg over his shoulder.
You wanted to say something. A clever remark, a thoughtful quip, something- anything. But your mind wasn’t focused on thinking, your body had taken over and your whole world shrunk down to this very bathroom and the feeling of wherever his body met yours.
“Bucky,” you whispered, hips arching toward his mouth.
“Shh,” he grinned up at you, eyes dark and devilish. His metal hand snaked its way up your body and with a sudden tug you felt your underwear pop off at the seams, reduced to a useless bundle of lace.
And then his mouth was on you. Ravenous. Tongue diving so deep your legs already shaking. Fingers gripping his hair, an ache in the center of your palms as you held on for dear life.
You whimpered feeling his hands pull you forward, fully flush against his wicked mouth. He moaned into you, your head falling back at the vibration that sank into your core.
“Oh god.” One hand still held tightly to his hair, the other scratching for purchase on the back of his shirt.
Your back hit the cool mirror as you braced yourself, hips moving instinctively against his face. His grip on your thighs tightened—firm but possessive—and he groaned like he couldn't get enough. Every flick of his tongue, every hum of pleasure from his throat sent shocks through you.
He devoured you.
He pulled back just long enough to murmur, voice wrecked and lips glistening, “You taste better than that wine ever could.” Before resuming his tortuous ministrations, your body wracked with pleasure, the tight coiling sensation in your belly growing stronger with each stroke.
He knew your body like the back of his hand and when his lips finally sucked around the most sensitive part of you, thigh trembling against his shoulder you came undone.
A high-pitched gasp escaped your lips as he finished you, your body turning molten and liquid beneath his grip. Blood rushed in your ears as you managed to take a shaky breath.
He looked up at you, pupils blown wide, barely a ring of blue visible. Rising to his feet slowly, never removing his hands from your body, the bottom of your feet barely scraping the ground beneath them.
“You’re shaking.” He whispered against your lips, mouth still wet with you.
“I think you are too.” A tremor shifted through his body, his chest heaving under your hands. Your fingers crawling up the front of his shirt and making quick work of the buttons there. Before dropping to his belt, tugging at the loop and zipper.
Both of you panting again, his pants dropping down, barely touching the floor before he had you turned around. Back pressed against his chest, palms braced against the bathroom sink.
“I didn’t see this happening tonight.” You gulped in air as he kissed your neck, this time possessive and fierce. His muscled legs pressing into the back of your own.
“Neither did I, but I’m glad it is.” Hot breath fanned across your shoulder. “You okay?” He asked, palming himself over his boxers, desperate and hard. Your thighs clenched, hips pushing back into him. Dying for his touch again.
“Yes. I- I need you.” That was all it took, dropping his boxers with focused urgency, burying himself inside you in one smooth thrust.
You gasped, bracing yourself against the counter as he sank in deep. The stretch was intense, perfect, everything. He stayed still for a beat, forehead against your shoulder, groaning as he adjusted to the heat of you.
“Fuck.” He hissed. “Feel so good, every fuckin’ time.”
Then he started to move, slowly. Deep grinding strokes, setting an even pace. You choked out a soft noise and his hand moved up to gently cover your mouth.
“Can’t let them in on our secret.” he murmured against your ear, rocking into you harder now. “Don’t want the whole damn party knowing what I’m doing to you.”
He picked up, moving faster, hips slapping against the curve of your ass. With each thrust, try as you might, a whimper would escape. A soft gasp, as his movements grew more frantic.
Fingers gripping you tightly right where he needed you. The sharp metal hand biting into your waist, knowing there’d be marks there when you were done.
Your eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, head falling back onto his shoulder as he drove into you faster, deeper. Blinking open lazily through the haze around you, seeing your forms moving in the mirror in front of you. Desperate. Hungry.
You moaned, walls fluttering tight around him. He swore into the side of your neck. Nose pressed into your hair.
“You feel so damn good. Gonna come so hard inside you if you keep squeezing me like that.”
“Bucky—” your voice broke on a whimper, pleasure building impossibly fast, molten and electric and right there. You were so close.
“Come for me darlin’ let me feel you fall apart.” His fingers reached between your legs with practiced ease, touching right where you needed him to. Then you shattered, back arching, mouth open, moaning louder than you intended as your orgasm tore through you.
He followed just moments later with a guttural moan, pressing so deep into you it felt like he’d never leave. His hips stilled as he emptied into you, trembling hands holding on like you were the only steady thing left in the universe.
The bathroom fell silent, your mind still spinning from how good it felt. How full you felt. Your breaths coming uneven, and heavy but seamlessly intertwined. His hands softened against you, no longer pinning you to the spot.
“I love you.” He murmured, kissing the back of your neck. When he finally pulled back, he did it gently, giving your shoulder one more kiss before stepping away. You straightened slowly, legs still shaky, catching his eye in the mirror.
“I love you too.”
His hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, shirt somewhere on the floor, tie half-forgotten and dangling from his pocket. He looked like sin and satisfaction all in one—and entirely yours.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured, tugging your dress down over your hips and smoothing it carefully, like he was trying to undo the evidence of what just happened. Even though you both knew you looked and felt, thoroughly ruined.
“We look guilty as hell.” You remarked, dabbing at the lipstick now smeared across your chin. He smirked, using his thumb to wipe away some of the lipstick residue under your lip.
You were just readjusting your dress as Bucky buttoned his shirt back up when a knock came at the door. You both froze.
“Everything ok in there?” A voice called out, sounded like a younger man. Maybe one of the servers.
“Uh- yes. Just cleaning up some spilled wine.” Bucky cleared his throat, trying to hide the crack in his voice.
There was a long pause. Then:
“…Right. Well. Party’s winding down.”
“Be right out,” you added, forcing your voice to sound vaguely composed. You both heard the footsteps retreat, looks meeting then bursting into laughter. Bucky just shook his head, grinning as he buttoned up his shirt—crookedly—and grabbed his jacket from the hook.
“I don’t know if I can look anyone in the face right now.” You giggled, attempting to fix your hair, then giving up on it.
“We weren’t very subtle.” He added adjusting his sleeves before offering you his arm.
You pressed your hand to your mouth, stifling a giggle. “Let’s go home before someone starts taking pictures.” He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, typing on the screen briefly before shoving it in his back pocket.
“Car has been called.” He winked at you, pushing the door open and stepping to the side holding it open..
“You’re such a gentleman.” You remarked, subtly turning over your shoulder to look back at him. “Except when you’re not.”
He smiled that slow, Bucky Barnes smile. Full of boyish charm and bad ideas. And you loved every second of it.
“Let’s go home.” You placed a searing kiss to his lips, letting your hands graze the back of his neck. “Sounds like a perfect plan, Congressman.”
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