hiatus

You’re curled up with your back against his chest, your head on his solid left bicep like a pillow, and he’s been tracing his right fingertips along your skin for ages now. Featherlight over the flimsy fabric of your tank top, your exposed collarbones and the swell of your breast. A trail of goosebumps follow his touch, spreading and growing, but your breathing stays steady. 

When Bucky’s thumb brushes over your covered nipple, your breath catches. He freezes. You need your sleep, and the last thing he wants to do is wake you because he’s bored and handsy. After a few still moments you sigh, one big exhale before your quiet rhythm resumes. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it— he thumbs over your now-hard nipple again, but this time the only thing that stirs is his dick. 

He clenches his jaw when it throbs impatiently against your ass. Of course he’s hard— how could he not be? He’s enveloped in your scent, wrapped in your warmth, with only two thin layers of clothing keeping him from you. Morning is only a few hours away, he tries to reason with himself. He can wait; god knows he’s waited longer. But his cock twitches again, and he remembers that discussion from weeks ago. Take whatever you need, you had told him with a sly look in your eye. Whenever you need it. 

What he needs now is you. If he wanted to, he could take his cock out and slip into you quickly, push past any resistance— but no. Take whatever you need, and what he needs is you dripping wet for him, soaking his cock as you come around him again and again and again.

But he doesn’t want to wake you. You deserve to sleep.

Bucky trails an experimental hand down your belly and under your shirt, gauging your reaction as he draws soft, small circles against your skin. Nothing. A pleased sigh escapes him when he squeezes your breast, feels your pebbled nipple against his worn palm as he carefully kneads the handful of flesh. He wishes you would sleep naked. Maybe he’d have an easier time falling asleep with his face buried between your tits.

Moving lower, he reaches the waistband of your underwear. No pajama shorts tonight, and the thin layer of cotton isn’t enough to derail his plans; he ghosts his fingers further down the fabric, easily finding the outline of your clit through your panties. You don't react when he brushes over it gently, but his dick throbs against you again, because he knows. 

He knows you like being touched like this, gentle and teasing. He knows if you were awake you'd be grinding down on his hand, begging him for more. But with you asleep, he can take it slow— has to take it slow, if he doesn’t want to wake you. That’s okay; he has all the time in the world. 

He lazily glides over the outline of your clit—  up and down, up and down, not enough stimulation to bring you to your peak, but enough for him to feel it swell beneath his touch. His hips jerk forward at that because he’s so hard that it hurts, and your body is telling him that what he’s doing feels good— but no. Not yet. 

It takes every ounce of his self control to remain still, but he does okay. He can’t stop his dick from twitching, but he doesn’t grind against you. He doesn’t lose control and rut against you pathetically, and he doesn’t speed up his strokes along your clit in an attempt to push you over the edge. He wants to take his time. But even though he’s not inside you, he feels the clench when your cunt tightens around nothing, and that’s too much, he can’t help it— he bites down on his lower lip to try to stifle it, but a husky groan still escapes against your neck when heat floods his lower belly. 

The noise drags you toward consciousness, and you shift. Bucky holds his breath, waiting for you to speak— to tell him to leave you alone, to tell him he’s being bad— but you only tilt your hips and spread your thighs, giving him unhindered access to your core. He lets out a thrilled huff, because he can’t believe it— you’re always so good to him, even in your sleep. He buries his face against your neck and continues. 

Reaching a bit lower, he finds saturated cotton, the evidence of your somnolent arousal. With a sleepy smile he pushes the gusset of your panties to the side and dips his middle finger between your folds, coating it in your slick before slowly pressing it inside you with little resistance.  

A pleased, quiet noise rumbles deep in his chest, because he’ll never get over how warm and wet and tight you feel around him. But as he pushes deeper into you, that heavenly feeling is drowned out by his awareness of the clingy, scratchy fabric rubbing against the side of his finger. He frowns; it’s an entirely unpleasant sensation on his hand, and guaranteed to be worse against his dick. Withdrawing from you completely, he feels for the seam and pinches it between two fingers. Slowly, cautiously, he tears it apart— he’ll buy you ten new pairs of panties to replace these, he swears. 

The tattered fabric falls limp against the bed, leaving your core exposed, but through all of this, you don’t move. You’re not the heaviest sleeper, but Bucky is a trained assassin, after all.

With nothing in his way and your pretty thighs open for him, he loses track of time. He swaps between lazily circling your clit and filling you with his fingers, but every time your breath quickens, he waits. When your hips move, he slows down. When your pussy flutters, just once, he pulls his hand away entirely as another wave of heat blows through him. He shudders, his straining cock leaking more precum to add to the wet mess in his boxers. 

Taking a few deep breaths, he tries to calm down— tries to slow his heart rate, relax his muscles, let that tidal wave that’s rising inside him fade back. But he’s rock fucking hard, dripping like a leaky faucet, and the ache in his balls is impossible to ignore any longer; as carefully as he can, he hooks his thumb into the elastic band of his boxers and shimmies them down around his thighs. His cock springs free and comes to rest against your ass, painting translucent lines of precum on your skin, and he groans lowly at your ear when he wraps his fist around himself. 

He jerks his cock once, twice, and then once more before he regains control and forces himself to stop— he didn’t get this far just to blow his load on your ass, although that doesn’t sound too bad, now that he thinks about it. He shifts his body closer to you and presses his cockhead between your thighs. Caught up in the slick glide as he pushes forward, he doesn’t notice when your eyelids flutter open. 

“Hmm… Buck?” you mumble. Your midnight-thick voice startles him, and he jumps— you told him he could do this, but he still feels dirty about it. But before he can stammer an apology you wiggle your hips back against him, a sleepy search for friction, and he sucks in a harsh breath when his tip catches at your drenched hole.

“Yeah, sweets, it’s just me,” he exhales, leaving his cock nestled in your folds so he can wrap his arm around you again. He has to fight the urge to push inside you, instead focusing on taking deep, calming breaths. “Everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.” His hand brushes over your clit gently as if to prove it— it’s okay, he’s taking care of you, he can make you feel good— and your cunt clenches under his touch. 

“Feels good…” you whine quietly, sending a rush of electricity down his spine. With his hand still between your legs, he reaches lower to line his cock up with his fingertips.

“I know, baby.” Bucky nudges his tip at your entrance, fighting off a shudder. “I’ll be gentle.” He gasps when the swollen head slips inside, and a moment passes before he can speak again. “You can sleep.”

You don’t reply. Bucky isn’t sure if you’re awake or asleep, but he moves carefully just in case. His fingertips massage your clit again as he grinds into you slowly, filling you completely. Okay, maybe he’s not exactly being gentle, he thinks as he ruts into you so deep that your breath catches in your throat. But slow, at least. He can go slow.

He keeps his body almost flush with yours, barely pulling out but somehow grinding deeper with each thrust. The uninhibited little gasps and whimpers that escape you tell him you’re definitely awake now, which means he doesn’t have to hold back as much— and now your body’s rocking with the strength of his thrusts, so he curls his left arm up around your chest to hold you tight to him. His metal hand catches a handful of your breast, and he squeezes it, kneads it— icing on the cake for him, but you don’t seem to notice. 

You throw your head back against his chest in bliss, and he takes the opportunity to kiss along the column of your neck, biting gently and sucking sweet marks. You shiver when his stubbled chin scratches along the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blooming from his hot breath huffing against your skin.

“S’feels so good,” you almost sob, the growing pleasure overwhelming your sleep-addled brain. “Bucky— Bu—”

You go rigid in his arms, your core clenching down around him so tightly that it steals the air from his lungs, but he doesn’t let up. “That’s it, sweets,” he mumbles in your ear, a hint of desperation bleeding into his voice as he rubs your clit in steady circles. His thrusts are harsher now, more powerful, because you’re gripping him so tightly that gentle is no longer an option. He wants you to come, needs you to come, and he’s right there on the precipice with you— “Shit,” he pants, “m’gonna come. Let go, baby, let go for me.”

A weak moan from your sweet lips, and Bucky’s fingertips feel your cunt quiver a half second before he feels it around his cock. His hips jerk, his jaw drops open, and he just can’t stay quiet when you squeeze around him in pulses.

His orgasm washes over him slowly, building into a crescendo that wrenches a low shout from his chest when his cock throbs inside you. Each hot surge is staggering as he pumps you full, and he bites down on the crook of your neck to steady himself as he rides it out. His light touch on your clit keeps you going until you squeeze your thighs together to push his hand away, but he’s not quite ready to be done— his thrusts are unsteady as rides the line between pleasure and oversensitive pain for as long as he can. 

Later— after Bucky finally stops shaking, after he pulls out of you tenderly and turns on a light so he can clean you up with all the love you deserve, he settles down beside you and sleeps better than he has in months.