.☘︎ ݁˖ erina .☘︎ ݁˖

Bucky blinked at the ceiling, then turned toward the wall with a mix of annoyance and reluctant admiration. “Jesus,” he muttered. “She’s still going?”

You groaned, rubbing your face. “Twenty-five minutes. She’s been going off like a broken wind-up toy for twenty-five minutes, Bucky.” It was all too much right now.  “It's 3 a.m.,” you whined, dragging a pillow over your face. “Why does everyone have to be loud now?”

Bucky chuckled, soft and gravelly, then pulled you into his chest, spooning you close. One arm wrapped around your waist, petting gently over your stomach.

“We knew it was gonna be an adjustment moving in with Sam,” he said, trying to soothe you.

You nuzzled in, only to freeze when the sound of the headboard started thumping against the wall.

Again.

“Oh come on,” you hissed. “What’s she trying to prove? She always gets like this when she knows I’m home.” A beat. “Tell me I don’t sound like that.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He just started kissing the side of your neck, slow and deliberate, his hand sneaking a little lower under the sheets.

“No, doll,” he murmured against your skin. “You sound so much better.” Another kiss, hotter now. “Prettier. Real.” His hand gripped your thigh and pulled it over his hip.

You squirmed, suddenly more awake, heat creeping up your cheeks.

He smirked. “Wanna put on a show of our own?”

You were about to swat him away, really, you were, but Bucky’s fingers were already sliding lower, finding that soft, puffy spot between your thighs, circling your clit with lazy precision. It wasn’t fair how practiced he was at this. How well he knew your body.

Your breath hitched, hips twitching back into him before you could stop yourself.

He snorted softly into your hair. “That’s it, sweetheart. Knew you’d warm up to the idea.”

You tried to sound annoyed. “I’m not trying to compete with her- ”

But your words dissolved into a soft gasp as one thick finger slipped inside you. The stretch made your back arch into him, thighs instinctively squeezing together around his hand.

“Oh, come on, beautiful,” Bucky drawled with a grin you could hear in his voice, “we can get you to do better than that.”

Your hand grabbed the edge of the blanket, already flushed with heat, trying not to give him the satisfaction. But then his thumb started stroking again, gentle, taunting circles on your clit, and your body betrayed you with a whimper.

“That’s better,” he cooed, finger curling just right. “Thought you said you don’t sound like her.” Another stroke. “But this? Baby, this is music.”

“Bucky- ” you tried to whisper a warning, but it broke apart halfway through, breath catching in your throat as he added a second finger, his arm tightening around your waist to hold you still while he played your body like a favorite song.

“Y’know,” he murmured into your neck, lips brushing your skin, “if she wants to perform, she should hear what a real show sounds like.”

His fingers plunged deeper, curling just so. You moaned, louder this time and Bucky groaned behind you, rutting his cock against your ass through his boxers, hard and throbbing.

“Fuck, that’s it. There’s my girl.”

He bit softly at your shoulder, then licked the spot to soothe it. “Think I could make you cry for me before she hits round four?”

You turned your head slightly, breathless and hot all over. “You’re awful.”

He grinned, kissing your cheek. “M’just competitive.”

“I think someone’s holding back…” Bucky murmured, voice all sweet mockery, hips grinding slow and deliberate into your ass while his fingers pumped inside you, unhurried but ruthless.

You whimpered, clutching the sheet with one hand and his metal wrist with the other, thighs trembling as he twisted just right, making your muscles clamp tight around his fingers.

“Ohh,” he laughed softly, low and warm in your neck. “There it is. That little clench- mm, yeah, you’re gettin’ close, huh?”

His thumb rolled over your clit in a tighter circle and your whole body jerked, a desperate moan catching in your throat.

You squeezed his wrist hard, but it wasn’t enough.

“Bucky- Buck, wait- no- ”

He knew what that meant. Knew you didn’t really want him to stop. That you were right on the edge. Which is exactly why he did.

He pulled his fingers out slow, wet and glistening, and you made a pitiful noise of protest that only made him smile wider.

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he said, already rolling you onto your back like you weighed nothing. “Don’t look at me like that.” He slotted himself between your thighs, pushing his boxers off. “You know I’m just tryin’ to help you live up to your potential.”

You glared up at him, flushed and needy, hips trying to chase his even before he lined himself up. But he didn’t push in right away. No, Bucky had to tease.

He ran his cock through your slick folds, tip dragging lazily up and down, tapping against your clit until your whole body twitched.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, voice suddenly tight. “You’re already soaked. It didn’t take much- never does with you.”

He held your hips still, teasing the head of his cock along your slick folds again before finally giving in, slow, steady, thick. The tip nudged at your entrance before gliding up and down to smear your wetness, until your hips arched up in silent plea.

Then, finally, he pressed in just the tip, thick, hot, stretching you just enough to make your breath leave your chest in a broken gasp.

You arched, clutching his bicep. “auhh- ”

Bucky grinned.

“Better.”

He pushed in another inch, then another, groaning at how tight you were around him, your body pulling him deeper with every inch.

“You gonna give me those pretty sounds now, doll?” he whispered, rolling his hips just so. “Or do I gotta work for ‘em?”

You didn’t even get the chance to answer.

Because that was when the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of Sam’s headboard started agai Harder this time. His girl’s voice climbed an octave, all high-pitched gasps and theatrical moaning, just shy of pornographic.

And then- fuck- you heard Sam.

A low groan, unmistakable.

You buried your face in Bucky’s shoulder with a miserable whine.

You were screwed now.

Even in the near-darkness of the room, you could feel Bucky’s expression change, could sense his tongue poke into his cheek, his jaw flexing as he stared at the wall like he was personally offended.

“Oh, hell no,” he growled, pulling his hips back and snapping them forward, burying his cock deep, all the way in, dragging a sudden, guttural cry out of you before you could stop it.

“Bucky- !”

“That’s better,” he grunted, hand sliding under your thigh, hitching your leg up so he could angle himself deeper. “You let them have their noise. You’re gonna sing for me now.”

He started to move, slow but powerful thrusts that punched little gasps from your throat with every roll of his hips. You clung to his shoulders, eyes wide, trying to hold back, but it was useless. Every thrust forced a sound from you, each one a little louder than the last, your body unraveling beneath his.

You were already soaked, already there, and the feeling of him dragging along every nerve-ending inside you made you tremble. He was so deep, so heavy inside you, his hips grinding with purpose, like he was sculpting those sounds out of you.

“Not gonna let ‘em win, baby,” he whispered, breath hot against your lips. “Gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name. Let her try to moan louder than you- I dare her.”

His metal hand gripped the headboard behind you for leverage, and you swore it was about to start banging against the wall too. The creak of the bed and slap of skin echoed through the room.

“Bucky, fuck- ”

“There we go,” he praised, fucking into you harder, rougher now, each thrust rocking you up the bed. “That’s my girl. Soundin’ so pretty for me.”

You moaned helplessly, arching into him, fingers digging into his skin, and he was relentless, devoted to making you cry out louder than whatever was happening on the other side of that wall.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” he groaned, dragging his cock out slowly before slamming it back in, harder than before. “That’s it, let them know how good we fit. Let them know who’s makin’ you feel like this.”

You tried to answer, tried to form anything like a thought but it all shattered as he slammed into you again, grinding deep, and your breath hitched into a needy, helpless cry.

Your fingers clutched the pillow beside your head. Your legs trembled. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Bucky- ”

He growled low, loving the way you moaned, loving the way your body trembled under his. Every sound you made spurred him on, every breathless whimper, every little hitch of your hips. He was drinking you in like he’d starved for it, worshipping every flutter and squeeze you gave him.

The girl next door let out another dramatic scream, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall, but all you could focus on was the way Bucky filled you, every inch of him, thick and hot and perfect inside you. The pressure of his cock dragged against that spot that made your spine bow, your thighs clenching around his hips instinctively.

Bucky grinned into your neck, not slowing. He fucked you through it- deliberate and deep, his hand sliding between you to circle your clit just to hear you sob again. The world was narrowed down to just the heat of your bodies and the slick slide of him inside you.

Nothing else mattered. Not the noise. Not the neighbors. Just the man above you, within you, around you, driving you out of your mind.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted, mouth against your throat. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you. Let her hear you.”

You did.

You couldn’t not.

He was grinding into your spot now with every thrust, dragging his cock against it until your toes curled and your nails scraped his back. Your moans started coming louder, broken, desperate, real. It wasn’t a performance. It was a surrender.

“Ohh, fuck, you feel good,” you sobbed, voice high and shaky.

Bucky’s head dropped, his breath stuttering. “God, you sound so good.”

His voice cracked slightly as he rutted into you, deeper and harder, his grip tightening on your hip. "Fuck, baby... you’re squeezin’ me so tight- keep that up and I’m not gonna last."

His mouth found yours, messy, hungry, claiming you completely as his hips snapped faster, harder, losing the rhythm as he chased both of your releases like he needed them to win. Like it was a goddamn competition now.

And maybe it was.

His chest was heaving, breath ragged, as he braced himself above you, each thrust more urgent, more desperate than the last. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, swallowing each other's whimpers and gasps as he fucked you through the mounting tension building between you.

You cried out into his mouth when he hit just right, your back arching off the mattress, thighs shaking around his waist. Your whole body tensed, every muscle winding tight like a wire ready to snap.

“There. There- fuck, baby, I’ve got you- let go,” he rasped, holding you tight, grinding deeper, determined to take you with him.

And then you broke.

Your orgasm ripped through you with devastating force, your mouth falling open as a high, raw moan spilled out, his name dragged from your throat again and again. Your walls fluttered around him, soaking him as your thighs quivered, toes curling tight.

Bucky wasn’t far behind.

“Shit- fuck,” he gasped, hips stuttering as your body milked him. “Gonna fill you up, baby- fuck- take it- ”

With a shuddering groan, he buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching deep inside you as he spilled, filling you with hot pulses. His muscles tensed, arms locked tight around you, and he stayed there, shaking against your chest while your bodies trembled together.

The bedframe finally banged once- twice- against the wall, a perfect echo of your cries, before stillness settled over you both. Bucky sagged against you, chest heaving, lips brushing your jaw as he caught his breath, his body pressed so close it felt like you were still one- joined and molten and weightless in the aftermath.

Both of you were drenched in sweat, your skin sticking where it touched, the heat of your bodies radiating between tangled limbs. Your heart pounded against his chest, and his matched it beat for beat, steady and grounding as your fingers lazily traced the back of his neck.

You clung to him, dazed and utterly spent, your body still humming with the ghost of your climax, little shudders twitching through your thighs. You let your cheek rest against his shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut, the silence around you ringing like an echo chamber of the storm you'd just ridden together.

You were both loud, breathless, fucked-out messes in the dark- hair mussed, voices hoarse, sheets soaked beneath you.

And you didn’t care.

You didn’t care if they heard.

Hell, you hoped they did. Let Sam and his girlfriend have their act.

You had something better. Something real.

Bucky was still inside you, his cock softening but not leaving you, like even his body refused to let go. He nuzzled your cheek, one arm wrapping more tightly around your back, the other brushing his fingers gently through your hair. A tender kiss pressed against your temple as the muffled sounds from next door finally gave way to silence.

“Think we won that one,” he murmured, smug and sleepy.

You let out a breathless laugh, still shaking a little. “Think we both lost our minds.”

His arms tightened around you, possessive and soft all at once. “Worth it.”

You tilted your head up, eyes meeting his in the dark. “Think we woke Alpine?”

He snorted, mouth curving into a tired grin. “Probably." 

You both chuckled quietly, your legs still wrapped around his hips, unwilling to break the closeness.

And then, in the stillness that followed, came the faintest sound, soft little wails starting up from the hallway. Mournful, high-pitched, and thoroughly dramatic.

“Speak of the devil...” you murmured against his shoulder.

Bucky huffed a laugh, burying his face in your hair. “Alpine’s filing a noise complaint.”

You threw your book down with a sigh.

“I’m bored, Nicky,” you announced with a pout, looking over to where he was ensconced at his desk, dealing with paperwork. Outside the rain was pouring down, like it had been doing yesterday as well.

“I’m sorry, draga. I’ll be finished soon and then we can do something.”

You crossed your arms and huffed. He’d said the same thing an hour ago.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and you let out a shocked squeal as darkness surrounded you.

“It’s alright, prinţesă,” Nick crooned, and you heard the scrape of his chair as well as the opening and closing of the desk drawer. A moment later the soft glow of a flame lifted the gloom. “Give me a moment.” He moved gracefully around the room, lighting candles until the room felt positively cosy. “Is that better?” he asked as he sat down next to you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face into his soft sweater.

“Absolutely. And I have an idea about what we can do?”

“Oh yes,” he questioned. “New kicks in the candlelight?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed, before getting to your feet. You took hold of his hands, pulling him up and walked backwards towards the patio doors. The yellow candlelight flickered over his handsome face and your heart raced.

You moved your hands to his waist, wriggling them under his sweater and running your palms over his firm torso, before dragging the knitted fabric from his form.

“What are you up to, draga?”

With a smile, you pulled your dress over your head, opened the doors and ran out into the rain.

“Come and dance with me, Nicky,” you laughed.

With a shake of his head, he pushed his jeans down his legs, before joining you.

You [9:33 pm]

you promised looked me in my eyes and said that we would still be friends

Another hit of anger mixed with frustration smacked against your ribs as memories of promises that were not kept swam into your vision.

You [9:34 pm]

lying dickhead

With that, you tossed your phone onto the small coffee table littered with snacks, empty beer bottles, and a few ash trays.

You heard it buzz once, knocking against a glass bottle, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. A headache was settling deep behind your eyes from being so misled by someone you thought cared for you.

"Baby," you heard the muffled voice from somewhere above the pillow you had placed over your eyes against the harsh florescent lights.

You grunted in response, waving a blind hand in the direction of the voice.

The pillow was yanked from your head in the next second, your sound of protest now filling the small green room.

"Lying dickhead?" your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, and drummer of the band that just played a sold out show in Madison Square Garden whispered dangerously. His phone with the text messages you sent in anger held within an inch of your nose.

You drew your lips in, determined not to laugh at your own dramatics. "You ate the last of the peanut butter cups." As if that was a good enough excuse to text him a string of messages while he played the show of his life.

A long suffering sigh left his chest as he looked to the heavens for help.

"Baby," he said again, slower this time, and slotting himself between your thighs. "Let me make it up to you."

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