#askforme

One of my friends sitting next to me instinctively puts her hand on my back, I feel her eyes on me but I stare straight ahead. I have had to live with what people think of the man who put a ring on my left hand, but I do not think she put her hand on me for protection, now it is probably compassion. Something must be wrong. Rogers wait patiently for me as I finally rise, making my way over to him without breathing.

“Is he alright?” I choke out. “You said it was fine, the mission went south but you were all fine.” The words come out in a quick ramble before I can stop them.

“Yes, he hasn’t seen a doctor, but he is… like him. He asked for you.”

I nod. He is okay, but probably agitated. It happens.

Rogers has already started walking. With a light hand over the small of my back, he steers me towards one of Bucky’s maids who waits for us in the end of the corridor.

“Cath can escort you upstairs. I was going to see Peggy.”

It does not matter if I know my way around by myself – if she was asked to bring me she will bring me to the door.

I do not think I imagine it when I notice she keeps a slightly quicker pace than usual. “I started drawing him a bath” she says, tapping a set of keys repeatedly with a finger as we walk. “Thought you’d discover any wounds if he got down in the water.”

I lift my lips in a small smile at the idea, “Thank you, that’s very helpful.”

“He looks a bit bruised, but didn’t let himself be examined.” Her voice sounds a bit strained.

If she is trying to warn me, it is a brave attempt.

We reach the space I have shared with him for the past year; a lone set of double doors at the end of an empty hallway. Someone has refilled the oil lamps flanking them, probably Cath.

When I press the door open I am met by the glow of a crackling fire, and the faintest waft of familiar herbs and oil coming from the bathroom, but he is not here yet.

“I’ll wait for him in the hallway, goodnight Miss.”

“You can come in, I don’t mind,” I say automatically.

“Another time, I’ll hand him the keys, and then I’m off.”

I nod, she probably has orders. “Goodnight, then.” I pull the door shut behind me and spin around towards the room. I peal my shoes off my feet and let my toes cherish the soft carpet under my feet as I carefully pad over to the high windows to pull the delicate, thin layer of curtains shut against the dark night. Then I undress – take everything off – and slip on a pearly, shiny silk robe. It is not very long but tied, it hides enough. Just in case, I bring him a fresh set of clothes into the bathroom and put them on my vanity. The fumes from the tub turn my hairdo into a familiar mess in the mirror.

The front door opens and closes heavily. He calls out my name hoarsely, it either sounds like he hasn’t talked for days, or like he has been shouting a lot. I cannot tell.

“Bucky,” I run the last steps to him and fling my arms over his neck. He catches me in an embrace and buries his nose in my hair.

“How are you?” I mumble into his chest

“Fine,” he rumbles softly.

“You wouldn’t let the doctors have a look at you.”

“Didn’t have any reason,” He claims.

He reluctantly releases me enough to pull away from him a little, but keeps his hands on the small of my back. I lift my hand to his face, feeling his velvet beard under my fingers as I trace his lip with my thumb.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” I mumble.

“Wait.” He bends down to catch my lips in a kiss, his hands starts to travel up my sides, and he lets out a satisfied groan when he feels I am not wearing any underwear.

“Bucky, Sir, let me take care of you” I try lowly, “Cath has drawn you a bath.”

He sighs and places a firm hand in a grip over the back of my neck and steers me towards the bathroom. I start to serve him, and he lets me. I carefully peal of layer after layer of fabric soaked with rain and blood until he finally is at rest in the tub. Every here and there, small cuts are leaking out tendrils of pink into the water, but he was right that he was fine. I cannot stop watching his large body under the shallow water. His feet are sticking up in the other end, and his scarred armed are resting heavily on the porcelain edge.

During his whole bath I kneel on a small stool behind him, untangling his hair and massaging the water into his scalp.

He looks so calm and unworried when I get to tend to him. I gently move his head to my shoulder as I knead circles into the muckles over his chest, and I heat him sigh contently.

I continue until he rises slowly on his own, water cascading down his body. His cock has risen hard and hot against his stomach.

“Dry me off, will you love?”

“Yes, Sir,” I grab one of the large, white towels someone has put out and go to stand in front of him, carefully dabbing his skin dry. It is red and sensitive from the heat of the water.

Reaching around him to do the backside of his thighs, I finish on my knees in front of him, in case he will want me to suck his cock. There is pre-cum leaking out from the tip, only inches away from my face.

I look up at him and blink when I am finished, I deliberately part my lips slightly, so he can feel my warm breath fanning on his member.

“You’re an enticing sight honey,” he lifts a corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry; I’ll fuck your mouth before we’re though here tonight, maybe more than once.”

In one sweeping movement, he brings his hand to my neck and slides it up into my hair to fasten it, and uses the leverage to pull me up to my feet in front of him. One of my hands automatically goes up to cover his, but he does not seem to mind. He catches me, and spins me around to pull my back flush against him. My hair twists in his tight grip and a small whimper escapes my lips as my fingertips fight feebly against his unyielding hand. The pain goes straight to my core, and I feel myself getting stickier between my legs.

“You like that?” He asks lowly.

I hesitate, tongue behind me teeth. He knows I do, but it still makes me blush. He chuckles and pushes me forward. I stumble in front of him until my pelvis hits the long marble counter in front of the mirror.

We still for a moment, I take the chance to breathe with my head bowed down for him, there are tears burning behind my eyes from his painful grip he still has on me. With the hand that is not holding my hair, he lifts my robe a little at the back, moving so I feel his dick underneath it. It is burning hot against my skin; I feel the whole length against my lower back.

“It’s going in there,” he promises, splays his fingers out over my lower stomach, and jerks his hips forward forcefully, making me grab the porcelain of the faucet in front of me to not fall forward. “Yes, just like that.”

With an exaggerated gentleness, he brings my head back against his shoulder, untangling his fingers and place his hand over my forehead instead so I will not fall forward again. I feel his fingers trace lazy circles in my scalp, as if to ease the pain he inflicted himself.

For the first time I turn my gaze to the mirror, to us. My cheeks are still flushed, and my robe has opened up in the front, spilling out my breasts. He studies me for a second, then follows my gaze and takes a firm grip on my left one, I try to stay still for him so he can feel my heartbeat. Like a soft sway, he starts to roll his hips into me steadily from behind.

“Bucky, Sir please-,” I try lowly. I put my hands carefully on his lower arms, without taking control, just so he can feel me caress his skin. He would feel so good and relaxed if he got to thrust into me with his member and come inside me. Sometimes it takes a few hours before he calms down when he comes back after a long time.

“I’ve thought about you every day, God, to get to bury myself inside you and fill you with my come over and over again. It’s been a long time to be away.”

He lets go of my breast and brings his hand down to caress the back of my thigh, before curling his calloused fingers around the soft skin and lifts it up to the counter, spreading me. When he is done, he brings his hand back to my front, but grips my throat instead this time. He does not squeeze, but he is firm, if I were to strain against him I would lose air. His underarm settles heavily vertically over my chest, keeping my back pinned against him, and he lets go of my head so he can bring it down to hold my hipbone instead. I swallow, trying to breathe calmly, and I know he feels it against his palm.

“You’re ready for me?”

I watch myself in the mirror, tousled hair from his manhandling, thigh high up on the bench in front of us, chest heaving against his heavy arm, legs spread, his hands securely holding my throat, my hip. He has killed people with the same hands he is holding me in.

I nod as much as his grip on me allows, “Yes, yes, Sir.”

He starts to lift my hip a little, to place me over his cock. When I feel the head against my opening, he moves his hand back against my lower stomach once again.  He sinks me down around him with short, shallow strokes.

I try to relax against him and keep one hand on his that is holding my hip, and the other one behind me, out of his way, lightly holding the side of his thigh. I’m completely in his mercy in this position, which is probably the point. He has been away for a long time and wants to have his way with me.

“You know I like it when you look me in the eyes while I fuck you like this,” he says gruffly, and I lift my gaze to him again. Pleased, he starts thrusting firmly in long strokes,

My mouth is hanging open. Every time he pushes into me a bit harder, a bit higher up, I give out a sharp whimper through my restricted airways.

“God, those sounds.” He keeps snapping his hips forward in a steady rhythm, “When you’re away for so long a man can forget they exist.”

He keeps thrusting into me quicker and quicker until I cry out helplessly with every time he fills me up. I hear how much he enjoys taking me, his own grunts mixes with the obscene sounds of wet skin slapping, and I feel a new surge of want for him.

When we are just a few pushes away, he slows down, into deep, explosive, thrusts.

“Maybe we’ll have time to start growing a child in you this time.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll breed you every night. Hard and firmly on top of you until you beg me for a break.”

I cry out lowly at his words, unable to form words as he spears me over and over again.

“Are you coming?” He asks, even though my leg trembles under his grip.

I manage to give him a small nod, having to gasp when I am done because it cut of my air supply momentarily.

“You look very pretty when you come on my cock.”

I break down so loudly I can with his hand gripping my throat. The scream moulds into a moan as my cunt clenches around him repeatedly on its own volition. He fucks me through it hard and deep, and when my orgasm dies down, I feel the ribbons of his own cum being release inside my soft heat. He keeps me in the same position, leg spread on the counter, my back against his chest, until he has emptied every last bit inside me.

Then he slowly peals his fingers of my neck, inspecting the red marks his fingers left. “I have the feeling I will want to keep you very busy the whole day tomorrow as well, but the marks from my hands will probably linger longer than that. People will see them.” He says factually.

“There is no way I would rather want it,” I turn my gaze down for him, “please use me tonight, Sir.” I plead.

He gives out a satisfied grunt and helps me get my leg down from the counter. I turn around to him gently, and place a kiss on his lips. He quickly places his hands on me again, holding me as he kiss deepens. His tongue brushes against my lips, I open them compliantly, and he pushes himself in. It always feels to short when he pulls away, momentarily supporting his forehead on mine. With one last peck to my cheek, he turns away towards the pile of clothes I left him.

I keep my robe on, without tying it closed. While he puts the clothes on, I make my way out in the drawing room, pouring him ember liquid in a crystal glass and place it on a coffe table next to a wide recliner.

He comes out from the bathroom and snakes his arm around my stomach from behind, breathing me in behind my ear. “Thank you, love,” he whispers.

I turn around to him, smiling softly and place my hands lightly on his biceps.

“You should have some water,” he says slowly walking over to the whiskey. “There’s a long night ahead of you.”

“I’m alright,” I reply quietly, following him.

He sinks down heavily in the seat, broad-legged, feet planted comfortably on the ground. He pats his leg one time and I pad over the last steps.

“Here,” he mumbles and helps me to straddle his thigh. His sperm and my wetness are still leaking out from me, making the rough fabric of his trousers sticky.

He curls an arm around me and takes a sip of his drink, then holds it out to me.

“No, you know I don’t like the taste,” I say retort.

“You don’t want to try,” he replies softly.

Slowly, he puts the glass to my lips anyway, starts to tilt it, and I let the liquid run down my throat, one gulp, two… I turn my head to the side, but he was prepared and takes the glass away without spilling anything.

“You’ll want to have a bit of that in your system,” he says over my coughing. Then he waits until I am quiet before he speaks again, leaning forward to me, “I want to see you fuck yourself on my thick thigh until you come.”

I feel blood traveling up my neck to my face. “Sir, I-” I love to have sex with him, and we have pleasured each other in all ways imaginable, but I hate to masturbate in front of him. It feels private, even though I like to see him touch himself.

“Pleasure yourself,” he orders firmly, not leaving room for any options in his request.

I know my face is blushed, I know he is watching my body, so I have to force myself to sit down heavier on his thigh.  

He helpfully places his hands on my naked hips when I slowly start to rub myself back and forth over his steady length, keeping my gaze on his shoulder rather than his eyes.

It feels agonizing to hump his leg like a dog while he is watching me. The heat in my core, and the embarrassment, start to build up quickly.

“There is no shame, only pleasure,” he comforts.

Listening to his voice makes me slow down to a stop. He speaks my name sharply, and I carefully go on humping again.

“I don’t want you to forget yourself; I want you to be aware of every snap of your hips. Maybe you can tell me what you’re thinking while you pleasure yourself?”

I really do not want to, but it was not a question. I have to concentrate to move back and forth over him, and speak at the same time – he is right I will not be able to forget my surroundings that way.

“I-” I start, but fall quiet again. My pace falter, but I go on. “I’m thinking about how large you are, how firm you’ve been with me tonight, small things about you that turn me on,” I admit with a small voice. I feel a surge of wetness coming down from inside me.

“Mhm,” he says to tell me to go on, caressing my naked hips with his thumbs.

I push my hips forward a couple of times more before I go on. “I feel so, so submissive humping your thigh right now,” I whisper, my breath hitching in my throat.

He chuckles a little. “You should. You have my marks around your throat, that tiny, open robe on that I like, and you’re fucking yourself on my thigh,” he recount contently, taking a sip from his glass. “But there is no need to be embarrassed in front of me.”

I do not reply, I just keep moving back and forth over him silently as my blush deepens.

He brings a string of hair that has fallen forward back behind my ear, then he softly takes my cheek in his palm, his skin feels cool against my burning face. “Red’s a lovely colour on you,” he muses. “Is it getting easier?”

I nod a little – he keeps his hand on my cheek, following my movements – trying to focus on the heat building up between my legs.

“Then go harder,” he says,

“Yes, Sir.” I grit my teeth and do as he says, I also pick up the pace, and he leans back in the recliner again and takes in the view of me.

“Good, how lucky am I,” he muses, “to have such a willing girl?” He caresses my cheek with his thumb.

I feel like shrinking a little bit under his gaze, but then I take a shaky breath, letting the crease between my eyebrows appear and press out my cries quietly in pleasure with every hump. He tils his leg up to help me build up the pressure, and I squeeze my thighs together around him.

“There you go,” he whispers encouragingly.

I lean forward on his shoulder when I come, whimpering into his neck. He runs his hands comforting up and down my back as I ride it all out on him. For a second everything is still and quiet.

“Was it good humping my thigh?” He asks, bending down a little so he can see my face better. I wish he wouldn’t. When I do not reply, he takes my cheek into the palm of his hand again and caresses me slowly with his thumb.

“Yes, it was, it was good coming on you,” I say quietly.

“Then do it again.”

I still for a second too long, but regain my composition quickly enough. I still feel powerless and weak from my last orgasms, but I climb back on him as I think about how I could do this in a slightly different way, and more enjoyable for him a second time. I start pressing down higher up on his thigh than the last time, my knee snug against the bulk in the pants.

Tenderly, I place one hand on his bicep on the opposite side of the leg I am sitting on, and let my other arm drape carefully around his back and take a small hold of his shirt to keep myself flush against him.

When I start to move again, I am almost humping his hip instead of his thigh, but I think he might like this too. I am a lot closer to him like this.

I squeeze my legs together hard around him and jerk my hips forward, firmly, but with a few seconds between each, trying to use these burst of pressure to build my own heat between my legs again quicker, so he will not have to wait that long for me to come.

When I feel that there is a new orgasm building up, I mould my movements into a steady rhythm.

I feel him remove his large hands from my hips, and put them on the armrests of the chair. A humbling feeling spreads into my face again. He does not need his hands on me to control my movements. I keep my tongue behind my teeth and keep humping him obediently.

“Sir?” I call out carefully. I cannot see his face from here, where I am pressed flushed against his chest; if I turned my head I would only see the back of his head. “Are you alright?”

I gingerly peel one finger at a time away from his upper arm and place my hand on his soft shirt, feeling the expensive fabric as my fingertips lightly travel further down towards his bellybutton.

“Yes, love,” his voice is husky. “Keep going.”

“If you want me to touch you, just-”

“No no, you know what to do right now.” He catches my hand in his, brings it up brings to his lips, and kisses the back of it. He has not shaved tonight, and I feel his scruff against my knuckles.

“Yes, of course,” In my need to show him it was not a question that came from that I did not want to keep pleasuring myself on him, I pick up the pace a little. He keeps my hand in his, and I slowly intertwine my fingers in his so I feel steadier when I hump him.

He rearranges his positing a little so he gets more comfortable, and I have to be still for a second. I soon close my eyes, and rest my head against his neck. There isn’t much left. It is difficult to get used to just hearing the noises me myself make during sex. I make sure to breathe everything into his ear.

Without any warning, his hands are back gently on my hips, but firmly enough to make me go still.

“Sir?” I lean back and he shifts his grip slightly so he can hold me more comfortably.

“Turn around, you can lay over my lap when you finish yourself off.”

My core is throbbing, I have too much blood in my face for my liking, sweat is pooling between my breast and on my neck under my hair. It is much easier to forget these things when you are in the moment. Now I have to think about them as I turn around in his lap, feeling his eyes over my warm body, messy of exertion.

He brings one arm over my shoulder so I sit on the leg I was humping before, and spreads my legs by moving one of them over the opposite armrest and leaving one of them between his own planted on the floor.

“Take your hands and finish yourself off, I want to see it.”

At the request to see what you would usually do at night for your own pleasure, I hesitate, but I still move my hand slowly towards my core.

I try relaxing into him, and he helps me. He shifts the arm around my back so he can reach around my neck and cup my breast, I feel his cold rings against my skin as he silently massage me with calloused fingers. His other hand is resting on my leg, fingers splayed out over the inside of my thigh – keeping it high up on the armrest to keep my legs open.

My hand that I started bringing down stopped over my lower stomach. Instead of chastising me for it, he bends down to taste my lips. It is familiar, comforting, and I open my mouth up for his tongue. He pulls away from the kiss, but keeps his forehead pressed against mine, making us breathe the same air as we catch our breaths. Before my chest has stopped heaving for air, I feel his hand leave my thigh and place itself over my own, slowly sliding both of them down to cup my core.

I lift my head slightly from where it laid resting against him, but he meets me halfway up and pushes me back gently by catching my lips in a new kiss, swallowing the gasp that escapes my throat when he presses down our fingers against my sex. He brings my hand over my core in heavy strokes, and I close my eyes again, trying to escape my thighs trembling slightly in pleasure, my warm face, and my body pursuing a close, third release.

I move my hand with him, and he hums softly as he presses my long-finger further down for extra pressure. I comply, and he relaxes his hand over mine until he is not manipulating it anymore. When I notice he is just following my movements I continue anyway, back and forth, until he removes the hand completely and places it back on my thigh, yanking it slightly higher up again in the process. By then I almost stop – or I slow down at least.

“Come on, gorgeous, almost there,” he lets a small smile shift the corner of his mouth up as he gives my breast a hard squeeze to tell me to go on. So I do.

I lay on my back and look up in his eyes as I masturbate. He seems pleased despite that I was being a bit difficult in the beginning, and I let the relief feed my lust as I roll my hips up a little, trying to use my whole body to satisfy the ache.

He leans back in the recliner and lets my gaze go for a second as he devours my body with his eyes. I am technically not naked but the delicate silk robe – the only thing I am wearing – is splayed open over his thighs, only covering my upper arms, showing my whole body rolling in pleasure.

“You’re goddess, you know. This is the most beautiful sigh I can conjure when I’m away from you.”

I turn my face towards his shoulder, not wanting to loose concentration and having to build everything up again. “I’m really close now,” I let him know with a small voice. I keep working for another minute on full display for him. My legs are straining against his hand and the recliner, even though I know it is better to fight the tenseness when trying to come.

The reward comes with an uncontrolled moan from my lips.

“Ride it out, all of it,” he commands.

“Yes, Sir,” I mumble into his shirt and keep palming myself as my hips jerk, almost on their own now.

He allows me a longer rest this time, gently tangling a hand into my hair and massages my scalp as we stay intertwined even after we are done since long.

“You need to sleep,” I whisper finally, I look up at him and see that his eyes are already closed.

He blinks a couple of times and smiles as he pulls me closer against him. “I’m so happy to be home with you.” he places his forehead against mine.

My heart melts with fond emotions for this man and I run a hand up his neck to smooth his hair down.

“Come on,” I whisper, and take his hand.

He follows after me into our bedroom where we undress, and I coax him to lay down high up in the middle of the bed. As his head sinks down on the pillows, I climb in between his legs that he naturally keeps wonderfully spread, half-hard cock on display.

I lay down, half on my stomach, and watch him through my eye-lashes as I tentatively run my fingers up and down his thighs, teasingly close to his length but without touching it.

He speaks my name quietly as if he wants to resist, but his shaft rises and he gives out a groan. I move closer to it and kiss the tip softly, licking up the pre-cum gathering quickly.

“I love you Bucky,” I speak lowly, making sure he feels my hot breath. Then I gather all the saliva I can in my mouth and get to work, starting from the tip, I swirl my tongue around him and let the saliva I cannot keep in my mouth run down his length, and cradle his heavy balls, full with come, in my hands. I take more of him in my mouth, starting to bop my head up and down as I hum lowly, sending the vibrations down his shaft.

He gives out a satisfied moan and his hips gently jerk up into me.

I relax my throat further, preparing taking him through my gag-reflex. I go slowly, he patiently lets me take my time, and swallow around him a couple of times when his pubic hair reaches to tickle my face. I take a deep breath through my nose and start to slide him in and out of me more rhythmically than before. I dare a look at him again through my eye-lashed and contently observe that his eyes are closed shut and his arms are folded back behind his head so he could have a good view of me. He opens his eyes, looks down at me and watches me work for a minute, silently rolling his hips up to meet me. I hold his gaze and stroke the inside of his thigh, begging him silently, and he lifts his hips up momentarily, giving me space to slide my hands down under them. He places them down heavily again, keeping my hands restrained under him.

When I have handed him the reins, he leans up on one elbow so he can reach the back of my head with his other hand for a better angle to thrust into my mouth harder than before.

When I glace up at him, I see his sculptured body working, one knee is bent as he leans forward. Hard and firm muscles tensing as he pushes his cock into my mouth again and again because it makes him feel good.

Since I am on my stomach with my hands under his thighs and his hand tightly in my hair again, his power over me is total.

My hips press into the mattress under me, my knees parted widely.

“What a sight you are,” he praises.

He pushes into me a little bit deeper than before and I gag slightly around him, but he just throws his head back between his shoulders and keeps pumping. I keep taking it.

He grunts every time he sinks in into my heat again.

When he comes he keeps me still under him until I have swallowed down everything. I continue sucking through his orgasm as if I could extract more come from him that way. I breathe calmly through my nose in deep breaths until he pulls himself out from me.

He carefully lifts me up to him and drapes me over his chest, my head on his shoulder, and I snake my thigh up over his hips. I feel his beard on my forehead, and chest hair under the palm of my hand, where it is resting on him.

Before he caves in, he tries to talk to me about our time apart. I can tell he has a lot he wants to say – I do too – but he is tired. I lay still, listening to his breathing as he falls asleep. The fire has turned to embers in the corner, but I only watch him for as long as I have light.

***

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