#afgb

Bucky smiled as he watched Betty put her hand on top of her head, holding the wide-brimmed hat in place as the car drove along the sandy landscape. He told her she was better off wearing a pair of those new dark shaded glasses that had come out and a scarf, but she insisted on the hat, stating the glasses hurt her head. Bucky smiled wider when she stuck her tongue out at him in a manner of answering his thoughts of “I told you so”.

“You insisted on coming,” he laughed, turning his head to look out to the barren landscape.

“Yes, well, Egypt sounded marvelous in the books,” she grumbled, her other free hand waved in a small circle, “and how else would I be able to see it?”

Bucky nodded, his smile waning a touch. She had a point. Even though she comes from a family with money, she couldn’t travel on her own, much like any other woman back home. It also pained him to lie, saying she was his assistant in order to get her a passport. The world’s view on women and race was absurd to him.

"Didn't think it would be this sandy?" he teased.

Betty narrowed her eyes at him and turned her head towards the dunes. "You think you're such a comedian."

"I think I'm adorable," he countered with a wink and smirk, which turned into a laugh quickly when her hat blew off when she moved her hand just a smidge off of it. He watched as her dark curls started to whip free from the style she worked it in. Slowly, her scowling face softened as the corners of her lips turned upwards.

"You're many things Bucky Barnes," she laughed, her hand in her bag to pull out the cream colored scarf, "but adorable is pushing it."

“I don’t want you to scare him away,” she stated, her eyes narrowing as she looked at them.

Steve let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “Freddie, we just want to meet the kid that you are seeing, that’s all.” He looked at his husband, who had a pained look on his face; he nudged him with his elbow and raised a brow, “Right Buck?”

Bucky looked at him and grunted with a half hearted nod before turning to head into the kitchen.

“Daddy, promise me he will be nice to Peter,” Winifred pleaded, “he’s really a good guy.”

“I know sweetie, and I promise to keep your dad in line as best as I can.” He took a step forward and kissed the top of her head before following Bucky to talk to him.

Winifred fell back against the couch with a sigh. She knew this day would come when her dads would find out she was seeing a boy at her school (mostly study groups or friend dates) and would want to see him. It wasn’t something she was looking forward too, mostly because her dad, Bucky, was a bit overprotective of her, which her other dad would explain it as he used to protect him when he was a kid and he was an older child.

She reached for her phone and took a deep breath as she sent Peter a message asking if he wanted to get some ice cream tomorrow

My dads want to meet you.

Steve walked into the kitchen seeing his husband scrub absentmindedly at a pan he used to prepare dinner. He wrapped his arms around his waist, pressed himself into him, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to be a grumpy pants,” Steve started softly, pressing a kiss at the junction of where his neck and shoulder met.

“I’m not being a grumpy pants,” Bucky practically growled, “just...she’s too young to be dating.”

Steve tried hard to repress his chuckle, and failed. “Hun, she’s almost seventeen. You really think she was going to go through school without one boyfriend?” Bucky grunted and kept scouring the pan. “Just be nice to the kid. From what Natasha said, he’s in the honor roll, loves technology, and is pretty awkward. Doesn’t sound much like a fiend to me.”

“I just don’t want to see her get hurt,” Bucky admitted softly, setting the pan down into the tub of water. He leaned his head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder and sighed. “It doesn’t help that she looks a lot like Becca.”

“I know hun, but she is seventeen. She’s allowed to grow up and date and get hurt. Look at us.”

“That’s why I don’t want her to be hurt. I was that guy who broke girls’ hearts,” Bucky replied bitterly.

“It's a life lesson. Remember when I broke your heart?”

“If Peggy was a guy, I would have broken her face,” he growled, turning in his husband’s arms, and braced back on the sink with his hands.

“You always were a jealous one when it came to me,” Steve teased, leaning forward to nudge his nose with his. “Thank goodness times changed and we were finally able to be us.”

Bucky snorted and the corners of his lips hitched slightly. “You’re such a romantic,” he replied with a roll of his eyes.

“You love it,” Steve scoffed, smiling fully, “besides, if I could, I would have done the same to the girls you dated.”

That had Bucky laughing, head hanging back. “Oh...oh Steve. That’s a sight I would have loved to see. Dot would have kicked your ass.”

“Peggy would have kicked yours,” he countered, narrowing his eyes.

“I’ll make burgers,” Bucky stated, trying to gain his composure again, “and you can make the salad.”

“No, I’ll make lasagna. That way you can’t poison the kid’s burger,” Steve countered, kissing his husband’s cheek. “And don’t argue.” He felt Bucky’s jaw clench but he nodded slightly. “Remember, Freddie can handle herself and the kid passed Natasha’s screening. Just try to be good when he comes on Saturday.”

Bucky grumbled something with Steve only picking out the words ‘dead’ and ‘our baby’.

Peter looked at Winifred and swallowed hard. She had just dropped the bomb that he was hoping he wouldn’t have to hear for another month, maybe year.

He had just nodded and agreed, never one to tell Winifred no for anything. So when he got back to the apartment, his Aunt Mae could see the fear washed over his face.

He was going to meet Winifred’s dads tomorrow night: Steve and Bucky Rogers-Barnes.

Aunt Mae helped him figure out what to wear and say when he got to Winifred’s house. She had him go to the flower stall down four blocks to pick out a bouquet of his girlfriend’s favorite flowers while she started on making a pie for him to take. At that suggestion he stopped at the bakery another block over and ordered a dessert at their suggestion for “meeting the parents”, which they had decided on tiramisu.

He wore a button down with a vest and tie and his only pair of slacks. He nodded to all the things that Aunt Mae said he needed to remember: be a gentleman, listen closely, answer questions truthfully, and be respectful. He took the pie from her and the bouquet and kissed his aunt’s cheek before making his way down to the bus stop. On his way to pick up the tiramisu, he threw the autosious pie in the garbage out of sight of their apartment. It was a long forty minute ride to the MTA railway and even though the train ride was only twelve minutes long, it felt longer than the bus. Not to mention his stomach was in knots the closer he got.

The Rogers-Barnes home was a cute brownstone nestled on one of the side streets a short walk from the station. He climbed the stoop and took a shaky breath to try to calm his nerves as he reached up and knocked three times. His stomach flip flopped over the scenarios that could happen if one of her dads opened the door.

He could hear someone running down the stairs (so he assumed) and Winifred’s familiar voice called out.

“I got it!”

She opened the main door and smiled at him through the screen.

“Hey Peter,” she breathed.

He looked her over and smiled. She was wearing a black knee length skirt and a white button down under her signature leather jacket, which was one of her dad’s old jackets from their time in the war. Somehow it had stood the test of time.

“Hey Fred,” he replied, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“Freddie, invite the boy in!” A booming voice sounded behind her and she rolled her eyes and opened the screened door. 

“C’mon. Daddy made lasagna because he was afraid Dad would poison your burger,” she smiled, but Peter wasn’t sure if she was joking or if she was serious about one of her dads wanting to kill him. He also didn’t know which one was ‘Dad’ and ‘Daddy’.

He followed her into her home and looked around slightly in awe. He hadn’t been in a brownstone before, but he was impressed with what he saw; the living room was bigger than his own apartment’s shared living room and kitchen. He looked around in awe before he remembered he was holding flowers and the tiramisu.

“Oh, um, I got you some flowers,” he stammered, holding them out to Winifred with a nervous smile. “And I brought dessert, if that’s okay?”

“Sure it’s okay,” Winifred replied, taking the bouquet from him and he noticed that her cheeks were dusted with more pink than normal, which made him swell with pride that he did something right. “You can bring that into the kitchen, that’s where Daddy is right now. He’s just getting the bread out of the oven.”

Peter followed her, holding the box with two hands, his eyes roaming around the room. The kitchen was bright white with dark cabinets and silver accents. He saw a tall, broad, blond man standing over by the oven holding a tray.

“Daddy, this is Peter,” Winifred stated, a smile plastered on her face. “Where’s Dad?”

The blond smiled and set the tray down, removing the mitts and walked over to the two of them, his large hand extended to him. “Hi Peter. I’m Steve. It’s great to meet you finally.”

Finally? Has Winifred talked about him before they started to get a bit more serious? No, Peter thought, they’ve been in the same group of friends for the last two years and Winifred was always cautious about bringing friends around her home as she was afraid of how her one father would react, especially with boys.

“I’ll take that from you,” Steve added, taking the box from Peter’s hands and setting it on the counter. 

“Oh, it’s tiramisu. I just thought, um, that you all might like it?” he said with little confidence. 

Steve responded with a smile and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Relax kid, we’re just normal parents like everyone else's.”

“But impressing two dads is harder,” Winifred laughed before adding softly, “so please, be nice.” 

“Alright,” Steve chuckled, holding his hands up, “why don’t you get your dad, Freddie, and I’ll get those flowers into a vase for you.”

“Behave,” she warned, pointing a finger at him before offering an apologetic smile to Peter before she disappeared through the double doors that went outside of the home from the kitchen.

“Scouts honor,” Steve teased back, holding up two fingers together. When Winifred closed the door, the blond man looked at him, amusement in his eyes. “You’re good kid. Relax. Bucky’s bark is worse than his bite. Freddie is his little angel, and he doesn’t want to see her hurt. He was the same with me when we were kids, hell, still like that.”

Peter nodded and relaxed a bit at his words. “Fred said that he would have poisoned my food; was that a joke, right?”

Steve raised a shoulder and looked off towards the door. “Nah, he wouldn’t’ve.”

Winifred sighed heavily when she turned to see her other father standing at the far side of the garden, smoking. He knew she hated it, so did Daddy, but she knew it was more to calm his nerves. She walked towards him, rolling her shoulders and putting on a gentle smile.

“Dad,” she said softly, “Peter’s here.”

Bucky turned quickly, his hand holding the cigarette whipped behind him, thinking that it would be enough for her not to see what he was doing.

“Hey baby girl,” he smiled through a held breath.

“I already saw you, so you might as well finish it.” Winifred rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I know this has to be nerve wracking for you, but Peter is nervous as hell, too. I promise you’ll like him. And if it eases anything, all we’ve ever done is hold hands and I’ve kissed him on the cheek like, three times?” She scrunched up her nose and squinted her eyes and she tried to remember the times she had kissed Peter, making the quiet kid blush deeper than the reddest tomato. 

“Kissed?” Bucky blinked, as he let out a long breath that held smoke. “You really like this kid?”

“Yes, dad, very much so,” she replied, her tone holding her irritation and impatience. “Please finish that and come inside? Daddy has everything ready and he’s trying to keep Peter from fleeing the house. Just please be nice. For me?” She pouted and looked at him through her lashes, a look she knew he had a hard time ignoring because, according to both of her fathers, she looked just like her Aunt Becca, who was the only other girl that would melt their hearts.

“I will try my best, Freddie. I can’t make any promises,” he replied as he gave her a wink and put out the cigarette.

Steve outdid himself, like always, and made not only lasagna, but he made a salad and worked on making fresh bread for the meal as well. The kid brought a dessert, which Bucky thought was overdoing it a bit, but he watched the way Freddie and Peter were together and his heart melted to see his daughter happy.

Bucky tried hard not to grill the teen during dinner, but he wanted to know everything about the kid.

“Are you in any sports?” he asked before taking a bite of bread he used to sop up some of the sauce from the lasagna.

“Oh, no, sir,” Peter replied with a slight stammer, scratching the back of his neck before clasping his hands in his lap, “I–I am not really coordinated enough. I stick with tech stuff mostly.”

Bucky could see that his daughter had reached for Peter’s hand under the table as she looked at himself with narrowed eyes. His eyes widened at her as his shoulders raised slightly as if to ask how a simple question would make Peter feel awkward. 

“Bucky likes the sciences as well, don’t you hun.” Steve always looked for a way to smooth things over, and here he was trying to rescue Bucky from their daughter. But in those words, the kid seemed to relax and look at Bucky with a more keen look.

“You like science? I would have thought you were more of a jock.”

“Oh I was that, just a closeted nerd,” Bucky chuckled nervously. This was supposed to be a dinner to get to know the kid, not the other way around. He reached for his water and took a long drink, hoping it was enough for them to move on to the next subject but no, his husband and daughter had to keep it going.

“Oh yeah,” Steve smiled, “he loves Tolkein and space stuff. And especially technology. He likes to come off as a rough and tough jock, but he’s really a sweetheart.” Bucky glared at his husband as he set the glass back down, clearing his throat, but before he could say anything else, Winifred piped up.

“He used to read me The Hobbit when I was little, it’s the reason why I love the whole Fellowship,” she beamed as she looked at Peter. “He also helped me with every one of my science fair projects when I was in elementary.”

“‘S not a bit deal,” Bucky muttered, “every father does that.”

“Daddy helps with the artsy stuff, you help with the more sciencey things,” Winifred countered, looking at him with wide eyes, “you know Peter’s science fair project is to see if cigarette smoke affects plant growth.” She raised a brow at him that reminded him very much like his sister: the silent judgment and accusation.

“Only because it was one of the last three that were in the hat,” Peter replied and Bucky could see his cheeks reddening. “Mr. Harrington thought it would be fair that way.”

“Flash got measuring the vitamin C levels in fruits, so I think you got the better straw,” Winifred smiled, her hand coming up from under the table to wrap around his arm. “Have a bit of confidence, Pete.”

Bucky watched as the kid turned towards his daughter and smiled brightly, the tips of his ears pink as wrinkles formed around the kid’s eyes. He could tell just by the way he looked at Winifred that he knew his feelings were genuine. They rifled into a conversation about the upcoming science fair, too engrossed into their conversation to notice neither of his parents.

“I don’t think he’s going to hurt her,” Steve whispered in his ear, his shoulder nudging Bucky’s. He turned towards his husband, who had an annoying smirk on his face.

“Shut it, punk,” he growled, jerking his shoulder away from his, but there was a slight tilt to his lip. 

“She’s happy, he’s happy. They are both obviously have puppy love for each other,” Steve continued as if Bucky hadn’t said anything.

“Still wasn’t ready for this,” he sighed, taking his husband’s hand in his. 

“Wasn’t ready for what?”

Both Steve and Bucky looked from each other to the otherside of the table to see their daughter looking at them. 

“Uh,” Steve started, looking at her and then at Peter before he blushed and looked at his husband.

“Ready for you to date,” Bucky bluntly stated, “but you seem like a nice kid, Peter. Just don’t break her heart.”

“Oh n-no, M-mr. Barnes,” Peter stammered, “If anyone is gonna break hearts, she’ll break mine.”

Bucky raised a brow at him, looking at his daughter for clarification, but she just waved him off and rolled her eyes.

“Fred is perfect; she’s funny and easy-going–” Peter swallowed hard when he saw Bucky’s attention turn towards him, the brow still hitched. “I mean, she doesn’t care that I’m at school on a scholarship, like most kids. She could treat me like I’m not worthy, but she does.” He gave Winifred a bashful smile and looked at Bucky. “I really don’t mean anything malicious towards her, sir, honest.”

Bucky could see Steve smirking next to him, squeezing his hand just slightly. “Well,” Bucky sighed, “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

He noticed both Winifred and Peter finally looked relaxed, sharing a smile with each other. They both were nervous for this meeting because of him? There was a part of him for giving in, rolling over so they could be at ease, even though he was as well. He smirked slightly as a thought rolled through his brain, one that he was both confident enough would keep the two teens behaving or could make him go down a path of worry. Before he could make a better judgment, his mouth opened.

“I am an excellent teacher,” he grins, leaning his hip against the table and fixing you with an accusing glare. The firm set of his mouth is at odds with the teasing joy sparkling in the different tones of hazel that lace through his eyes. You feel yourself flush under his gaze and try to hide the colour behind another sip of bourbon. “So come here, and let me teach you,” he holds out the cue temptingly and your eyes lock on the way his fingers curl over themselves where he’s handing it to you. You feel yourself flush even hotter, the coals in your chest threatening to burst into flames the longer his eyes stay fixed on yours.

“Fine,” you pluck up your courage and tell yourself that if you embarrass yourself horribly and wind up whacking Cordell with the pool stick instead of the ball, at least you warned him about what he was in for. “I’d probably stand back,” you advise as you take the cue from him, purposefully grasping it a long way away from his hand, and hop off the table to settle into a stance for your shot.

“And how am I supposed to teach you from way back here?” Cordell laughs, exasperated.

“There is a ninety-five percent chance I accidentally hit you with this thing and not the ball,” you wave the stick at him threateningly.

“That means a five percent chance you do hit the ball, I can work with that,” Cordell shrugs genially and saunters up behind you.

“No, it’s a five percent chance I hit you with this on purpose,” you laugh and swat at him but he jumps out of the way before the stick can make contact.

“Woah there, darlin’,” Cordell laughs and catches your wrists in his hands, fingers wrapping warm and firm the whole way around.

“You gonna cuff me, Ranger Walker,” you taunt, pulling playfully against his grasp.

“Why? You break some laws Y/N?” Cordell’s voice drops into a deeper register and you shudder against him involuntarily.

“Oh yeah, I’m a real criminal mastermind,” you assure him with a smirk. “Very dangerous.”

“Might have to do a lot more than cuff you, then,” Cordell smirks and backs you against the edge of the pool table, trapping your hips there with his. Your eyes are locked together in a battle of wills, each daring the other to break first and ruin the moment, and if he inched his face any closer, you knew it was going to wind up being you.

When he's close enough that his hat has tossed your face into shadow beneath its brim, his eyes darting away from yours fleetingly to look at your lips, it occurs to you suddenly that you haven’t checked if Dirk is still watching you two for a while now. You break yourself from this trance and run your gaze around the room in a big circle, seeking him out. It should have been easy to spot him, because as it turns out, there’s barely anyone left in the joint. In the back of your mind you vaguely recall the sound of a bell signalling last orders, but you can’t remember when it rang.

“He’s not here,” you hear Cordell’s voice behind you, and you turn back to face him. He’s even closer to you than you remember him being.

“Oh,” you mumbled, confused. If Dirk’s gone, why are you and Cordell still playing this game? You try to pull away but Cordell keeps you there, wrists wrapped tight, hips pinned tighter. “When did he leave?”

“A while ago,” Cordell breathes, eyes searching yours. You’re even more confused.

“Then why are you still doing this?”

“What?”

“This – us – the whole fake date thing.” Cordell is still unsettlingly close to you, eyes trained on yours. It occurs to you that he must be able to feel your breasts pressing against him every time you take a breath – and you’re breathing quite heavily at the moment.

“The truth?” He’s breathing heavily too, chest heaving against yours. He takes another step closer, drawing your wrists together between you, bringing them close to his lips. You feel the smooth skin of his mouth brush against your fingertips and he exhales sharply, his breath dancing across your hands. His fingers twitch tighter around your wrists.

“No, I want you to lie to me,” you parrot your words from earlier, and a small smile cracks across your face. He chuckles behind your fingers, eyes bright with laughter.

“Y/N,” he breathes, “nothing about tonight has been fake for me.” His eyes hold yours, searching, and you feel drawn into his gaze – like the whiskey warmth of their colour is wrapping you in a thick layer of comfort. It should feel forward. It should feel like a line. But it doesn’t. It feels right.

“You mean you’ve actually been lyin’ to me this whole time?” you tease, just to see if you can make him smile any brighter – you can. A laugh rolls through his body, shaking yours along with it.

“S’pose I have.” He leans closer, eyes steadily watching yours for any sign that this isn’t what you want too. You hold his gaze expectantly, more than ready to finally feel the lips you’d been watching all too hungrily tonight on yours. At the last moment his mouth pulls farther away and he rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in. Your eyelids flutter shut. You can’t keep looking at him while he’s scrutinising you so fiercely. You feel his nose brush against yours and—

“Hey, Walker!”

Cordell jumps back like you’ve electrocuted him, hand rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. You look around for the source of the noise, and see the bartender waving to get Walker’s attention.

“You closing up tonight man?” he waves a ring of keys at Cordell.

“Uh, yeah, thanks Kev. I’ve got it,” Cordell gives him a perfunctory wave and a tilt of his cowboy hat as Kevin the bartender gives him a short salute in return and makes his way out the door.

As Kevin leaves you take a moment to look around again and see that you and Cordell are the last ones in the bar. Checking your watch, you understand why – it’s well past midnight.

“You uh, you work here?” you stumble through your words, trying to break the awkward tension between you now that you’re alone.

“No, I uh, I know the owner. She lets me stay past closing, if I want,” he rubs the back of his neck again, clearly also feeling the nerves that have settled between you in the air.

A flare of jealousy strikes in your chest at his words, which takes you by surprise, but doesn’t keep the snippy tone from your voice. “She must be a really good friend,” you mumble, glancing up at Cordell before focusing on your fingers wrapped around the pool cue, which

you’re gripping like a lifeline.

“Now, Y/N,” Cordell lets a small grin slip onto his face as he closes in on you once more, “do I detect a hint of jealousy there?”

“Why would I be jealous?” you try to sound nonchalant, but his widening smile tells you that you aren’t succeeding.

“Well, that I can’t answer for you. Because you’re the one I’m here with right now, not her.” Your eyes flick up to his, probing and hopeful, and he meets your stare evenly. “You’re the one I can’t take my eyes off of.” A hand reaches up to your face, his thumb drawing a flush to your skin where it dances lightly over your cheekbone and down, settling gently against your throat. “You’re the one I want to spread across this pool table, the one I want to make cum so many times you see stars,” he almost rasps, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe, holding his gaze, and he’s so close you feel like you might start going cross-eyed if you keep staring at him like this. He draws his thumb up and down the front of your throat, not threatening but promising, and fuck, his touch is so hot you’re surprised you haven’t melted beneath him – or burst into flames. You are increasingly aware of the fact that you haven’t actually said anything to his list of intentions and a lump rises in your throat, anxiety pushing against your airwaves. The longer you don’t say anything the worse it gets, awkwardness starting to creep in, and you don’t want that. Fuck, you want him to do exactly what he just said he wanted to. “Okay,” you finally manage to choke out, the sound bursting from your lips.

Cordell raises his eyebrows, dropping his forehead against the top of your head, nose brushing lightly alongside yours. “Okay?” he checks, eyes pleading, and it’s the first time you’ve seen any hint of desperation crack through his calm exterior – you want to see more.

You don’t so much make the conscious decision to close your eyes as feel them slide shut, lashes fluttering down, and you’re so close to Cordell you think he must feel them catch against his cheek. You rock your forehead against his in a shaky nod, and you feel Cordell’s lashes brush through yours as his own eyelids flicker shut, and then the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours, his lips sliding gently to cradle your bottom lip between his.

It’s sweet – and then it’s not. Cordell steals the pool cue from your hands and throws it out of sight, and in the same movement wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you onto the edge of the pool table. Your hands slink around his neck and thread through the hair curling against the nape of his neck under his hat. You aren’t sure why, but you secretly love the fact that he’s still wearing it.

Cordell draws his hands firmly down your sides, fingers catching against the fabric of your top. He runs his palms flat over your hips and drags them down the outsides of your thighs as he pulls himself between them and wraps your legs around his back. You cling onto him, pulling yourself tight to his body and trying to bring as much of you into contact with him as you can manage.

Cordell settles himself into the space between your thighs, slots his hips against yours and grinds filthily. You can feel the bulge growing in his jeans and you hum needily, wanting to feel it closer than through several layers of denim. He rocks into you again, the outline of his cock dragging slow and dirty against your increasingly slick core. The material of your panties slips against you beneath your jeans and you honestly can’t remember the last time you had been this wet. God, Cordell has already brought you to the brink of ruin and you’re still fully clothed.

You whine into his mouth when he thrusts against you again, and you feel him chuckle against your lips.

“Sound so pretty, baby girl,” he groans, tongue still dipping in and out of your mouth. “God, love hearing you. Wanna hear more.” Cordell kisses you rougher, and drags his hands to your chest, groping possessively at your breasts and pulling a moan from your lungs. He obviously likes what he hears, because he doesn’t let up, and soon enough you’re desperate for his hands on your skin and your clothes are becoming increasingly inconvenient. You start to tear into your top to pull it over your head. Cordell quickly takes the hint and unbuttons his shirt, shrugging it down his shoulders and onto the floor to join yours.

You reach out instinctively, needing to run your hands over the expanse of work-tanned skin that’s just been revealed to you. Cordell’s torso is strong, the muscles present but not scarily defined, and you can't resist scratching your nails down the centre of his chest, making him shiver as he closes back in around you. Echoing you, he drags his fingers up your back, nails almost certainly leaving red, trailing marks in their wake, and with a quick movement unclasps your bra and pulls it from your body.

Without hesitation, Cordell ducks down to kiss along his newly exposed prize. He nips and licks and sucks his way over the curve of your breast, pulls a nipple into his mouth and worries it gently between his teeth. Your head falls back and your fingers thread themselves through his hair as another moan escapes your throat and you press forward into his mouth. He switches to the other nipple, teasing it with his tongue before biting down softly and scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin. You try to choke back the whimpers he’s coaxing from you but it’s like you’ve lost autonomy over your vocal chords.

“Nah, no no,” Cordell pulls back, crooked grin on his face. “What did I tell ya? Don’t want you to hide those noises from me baby,” he reaches out to tease your nipple again, making you whimper, as he keeps up eye contact. “Wanna know I’m making you feel good, wanna know what turns you on so much you just can’t control yourself anymore.” Cordell’s expression is beautifully genuine, and that sort of generosity is rare to find in a man these days, so you figure it’s the least you can do to oblige him.

“You,” you gasp, throwing your head back again as he palms your chest in his big, warm hands. “You’re the one turning me on baby.”

“Yeah?” Cordell quirks a brow and then ducks down to start kissing along a line down the centre of your chest, moving towards the fastening on your jeans.

“Yeah,” you pant, watching him move down your body and drop to his knees between your legs. “Isn’t supposed to be me on my knees for you?” you ask breathlessly.

“Man, your ex really did a number on you, huh?” Cordell laughs as he pops the button on your jeans and tucks his thumbs into the waistband, starting to drag them down your legs. “While I’m sure you’d look really pretty with my cock in your mouth, why don’t we save that for next time?” he smirks, finally getting you naked.

“Someone’s confident,” you tease, though you’re sure he has every reason to be based on the things he’s made you feel so far.

“So I better live up to it now,” Cordell raises his eyebrows playfully before ducking his head between your thighs and pressing kisses to the skin he lands on. His hat gets knocked off as he moves himself in closer and places a small peck right above your clit, still teasing. The silk of his lips drags softly over your skin, his warm breath spilling out and tingling against you.

“Shit, please,” you breathe, fingers tangling into his hair and trying to get his mouth where you really wanted it. He must figure he’s teased you enough because the next thing you know his tongue is lapping at your entrance and drawing up to tease around your clit and ohmygod it feels so incredible.

Cordell flicks his tongue against your clit and then sucks it between his lips, alternating until you’re keening against him, and then he slips a finger in against that sweet spot inside you and your hands pull involuntarily at his hair. He laughs against you and the vibrations roll pleasantly against your nerves. Cordell pulls back and licks his lips - probably tasting you there, which should not be as sexy as it is - and gives you a grin that tells you he’s pleased with himself.

“Why’d you stop?” you pout. You’d been getting really close.

“Because I’m impatient,” Cordell grunts, amused, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his cock. He groans when he gets himself in his hand, and you can see why – it must have been uncomfortable keeping something that size trapped behind clothes. You feel yourself clench at the sight, desperately wanting to feel him inside of you.

Cordell surges forward and kisses you again, deep and desperate, and this time when he grinds against you you feel the whole length of his cock dragging through the slip of your folds. He lubes himself up using your slick and his spit, and then he’s climbing onto the pool table with you, pushing you onto your back so you’re splayed out across the green felt top. You thread your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again. His tongue leaves your lips and moves to your neck, laving over your pulse point. You wonder absently if he can tell how fast your heart is beating.

You feel the fat tip of his cock press lightly against your entrance and you moan in preparation, anticipating how amazing it’s going to feel when he’s inside you.

“That’s it baby girl,” Cordell hums low in his throat. “Wanna hear how good you’re feeling, lemme hear you.”

“Oh god please,” you whisper, breath hoarse because you’re trying not to scream at him to fuck you already.

“Yeah, good girl,” Cordell presses a kiss to your throat as he begins to ease himself in.

“Fuck, you’re big,” you whimper, eyes clenched shut as you try to focus on the sensation of him fucking into you for the first time. Then all the sudden you feel nothing, and his weight is gone from above you.

“Shit, was I hurting you?” Cordell is hovering back on his knees, worriedly combing his hands through his hair.

“What? No,” you laugh, a little touched by the concern but mostly annoyed by the fact that Cordell was no longer inside you. “Can you get back down here, please?”

“You’re sure?” Cordell checks again, and now you’re impatient.

“Yes,” you huff, sitting up and dragging him down onto the table so he’s the one on his back, and you move to straddle his lap. “This sure enough for you?” you grin wickedly as you grind your centre over his cock, flushed and hard against his hip.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts, getting up on his elbows and reaching between your legs to draw across your clit in lazy circles. You moan under his touch as he slides his fingers between your legs and grabs hold of himself, angling his cock up so you can fit him against your entrance and slide down.

He feels even bigger like this, and you feel like a whore moaning as loud as you are but the sound of Cordell hissing - “shit, so hot baby girl” - knocks those anxieties out of your mind for now. You finally make it to the bottom of his cock and you grind your hips against him, using his body to rub your clit while you fuck him.

“Oh my god,” you whine, fucking yourself harder onto his cock, lifting your hips so he can thrust back into you. “Mm, fuck yeah, so good.”

“Fuck you’re so hot baby girl, love hearing how much you love this,” Cordell groans and his head thumps back on the table as you squeeze around his cock. He sounds a bit like a drunk frat guy, which makes you giggle, but you appreciate the praise and he’s not exactly wrong - you are loving this. The thick slide of him inside you feels just the right side of too much, to the point where you know you’ll feel this tomorrow but you won’t actually be hurting.

You lean down and kiss across Cordell’s chest as you continue to thrust back onto his dick, and the new angle hits something inside you that makes you see stars. You know you make some kind of sound but you don’t think any words are actually intelligible.

“You find a good spot darlin’?” Cordell grins down at you, propped up on his elbows again and holding your head to his chest.

“Mmhmm,” you whimper as you fuck back into him, your clit rubbing against his skin with each stroke and his cock hammering at the nerves inside you. You feel your legs start to shake as you begin to come apart around him. “Oh–” a choked off whine escapes you before every muscle in your body tenses and you freeze up against him until the euphoria bubbles over and everything begins to unravel and then you have no idea what you’re saying, you just know you’re coming harder than you have in a long time.

Cordell cards his fingers through your hair, cradling you against him the whole way through your climax. “There you go baby, good girl. Good girl, let it all go for me,” he groans as you spasm around his cock and cling to his chest. When you draw yourself back to sentience, Cordell is rocking you against his hips, thrusting into you shallowly from below.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he smiles at you and punctuates his words with another little thrust. “That feel good?” He grins wryly, clearly already very aware of the answer.

“Mmhmm,” you sigh lazily, and stretch out to kiss him. His hands wrap around your head and hold you against his lips as he twists his tongue into your mouth, groaning when you slide yours back against it.

“Any objection if I fuck you senseless against this table now?” he checks as he pulls back from the kiss.

“You really are a gentleman, Ranger Walker,” you smirk, but you pull off his lap and roll to the side, planning to let him get on top. He surprises you by jumping down off the table and pulling your ankles after him. When your feet are on the ground he spins you until your front is pressing against the pool surface and your wrists are behind your back, held together in just one of his hands.

“You making fun of an officer of the law, missy?” Cordell teases, nipping at your throat before soothing it with a kiss.

“Maybe if you fucked me into this table like you keep promisin’, I’d shut up,'' you sass back, trying to provoke him. It works. Cordell lines himself back up with your entrance and plunges in in one stroke, making you whine into the felt below your cheek.

“Well, a gentleman should always keep his promises.”

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“Don’t doll me,” she sneers, “not after what you’ve done.”

He chuckles. He can’t contain it even if he’d wanted to because that sulking like a toddler pout is back and it’s even more adorable than the last. “It was never my intention to upset you,” he admits, sincerely trying to level her seriousness. “How can I make it up to you?”

Sam’s standing in the kitchen, over her left shoulder, and he’s wearing that ‘I know a secret’ type smirk that seems permanently plastered to his face. Bucky knows what Sam is thinking because he’s thinking it too. But still, childishly, Sam mimes kissing an invisible woman, eyes closed, arms holding a ghost.

Bucky quickly waves him away while she looks down at the knife she’s using to scrape dirt out of a groove on the breakfast bar.

She shrugs. “I’m not sure there is anything.”

Ever the adult, Sam gyrates his hips and pretends to smack an invisible ass. Bucky sees the flash but it’s not until the blade embeds into the cabinet door a centimetre from Sam’s head he realizes she threw it without looking.

“Hey,” Sam whines, eyes flicking from the blade to her, “he’s the one who ate your damn chocolate!”

“I can see you,” she says, pointing toward his reflection in the glass cabinet, then twisting to look at him. “You got somewhere else you need to be, Captain?”

“You’re on your own, buddy,” Sam jests as he strides out of the room and closes the door.

Bucky gulps, which he hopes she misses as she turns back to face him. It was easier with Sam in the room, even with his immature teasing. There was no chance of his urges getting the better of him. Not that kissing her is a bad thing, but he’s not sure it’s what she wants.

“It’s not just any chocolate,” she defends. “It’s imported, real hard to come by, and it was my last bar.”

Shit. He worries she’s genuinely upset and not just busting his balls. All he can think to say is, “Sorry,” again.

“I don’t know how long it will be before I can get my hands on another one,” she says, picking up the empty candy wrapper and sighing wistfully. “I was saving this one for a special occasion, and it’s been a while since I had one, not sure I remember what it tastes like.”

“I’m really sorry doll, but we’d been in a fight,” he rambles, the guilt making him feel terrible enough he needs to explain that it was an unavoidable situation. “Sam was patching me up and I needed the sugar and it was the first thing Zemo threw at me. I will go out right now and I swear I won’t come back ’til I find another one or at least find somewhere to order one and I’ll pay whatever it costs for delivery. Or...or… I’ll get all the ingredients and ma…”

Faster than his eyes can track, just like the knife, she’s on her feet. Her lips press to his and the shock freezes him for a heartbeat. His eyes close when he realizes what’s happening and he feels her tongue poking at his lips. He stands up too, slipping a hand around her waist to draw her closer and the other holds the back of her head, tangling in her hair. She sighs when their tongues finally meet and a needy moan rumbles from his chest in reply.

As soon as her nails trail a blazing path up his arm to lock around his neck, he knows he’ll never get his fill of her. If he gets a chance to take a kiss further, to feel every single inch of her, he’ll want more. Always.

The kiss lasts a lifetime and yet not nearly long enough. A moment before he becomes breathless she pulls back, nipping gently at his bottom lip and he wonders if she can read minds.

She hums, seemingly sated and happy. “That’s what it tastes like.”

“You want another taste, just to be sure?” he asks, not recognising the blissed-out husk to his tone.

She kisses him again, but when his tongue seeks entry she pulls back and he chases her lips as she unravels herself from his hold. He stands dumbfounded for a moment, desperate to know what all this means now. But it seems too soon for a marriage proposal.

Instead, he settles for, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Oh god no,” she chuckles. She turns to face him but continues to walk backwards, her smile jesting and mischievous. She winks, “But maybe Sam had the right idea of how you can make it up to me.”

That adorable pouting lip is caught between her teeth as she crosses her arms over to grab the bottom of her shirt.

In the few seconds her face disappears under her shirt as she pulls it off, he reminds himself again. Too soon for a marriage proposal.

His brain malfunctions, his jaw goes slack but her shirt hits the floor and the rest of his anatomy is functioning perfectly fine. He drags his eyes from her lace-clad breasts back to her face and she uses a finger to beckon him closer.

“Oh fuck.” He palms his erection through the denim of his jeans and he growls before running to catch up with her.

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Beautifully Broken Bucky Barnes: @bccky

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