Flesh and Metal | The White Wolf
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (1st Person)
Word Count: 6,062
Summary: Bucky Barnes is everything you ever wantedāsoft, thoughtful, devoted.Ā He loves you with a quiet intensity that should make you feel like the luckiest person alive. But afterĀ so many months of being together, he still hasnāt touched you.Ā Not like that. When you finally confront him, you realize the truth isĀ so much deeper. He does want you.Ā He just doesnāt know how to ask. And tonight, for the first timeāheās finally ready to give in.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Sub!Bucky (lots of begging you guys), Angst, Swearing, Dominance & submission dynamics, Self-doubt & insecurity, Trauma responses & PTSD, Fear of abandonment & rejection, BDSM themes (light control, praise, permission-based dynamics), Overstimulation & begging, Implied past abuse
A/N: hey guys! this is my first ever story here, and i've worked so hard on it, my brain might dissolve through my ears tonight. i hope you'll like it, happy reading š¤
šMasterlist
It has been four months. Four months and one day, to be exact, since Bucky Barnes became mine. Iāve never heard so many people congratulate me and warn me in the same breath, but I never cared. Not when heās been so precious, so thoughtful, so achingly romantic. Not when heās spent every single day making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
I love him more than life itself. And with himālife and death feel closer than they should.
So why does it feel like Iām still not enough?
Four months, and he hasn't touched me. Not once. Not like that.Ā
Every time I try, every time I lean in, every time I press just a little too close, he pulls away. Sometimes subtly, sometimes not. Sometimes itās a hesitant step back, sometimes itās a firm grip on my wrist, pushing me away just enough to make it clear.
I tried everything. Cute lingerie. Whispered invitations. I even got my hair done for our anniversary last night. Nothing helped, I couldn't shake his composed demeanor, no matter what I did.
Maybe, he doesnāt want me at all. Why would he?
The Bucky Barnes could have anyone. Someone like Natashaāgorgeous, cool, effortlessly magnetic. The kind of woman who could hold her own against a super soldier, the kind who wouldnāt hesitate. The kind who makes sense with him.
Me on the other hand? What was I thinking, believing I would be enough? Just a simple girl, coming from a boring family, with no interesting backstory, nothing to show, nothing toā
"Baby?" Bucky put his face an inch from mine, which immediately snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. "You okay? Is your stomach upset?" He pointed to the remaining of mac and cheese he cooked.Ā
He grew to be extremely good at reading my expressions over the past few months. He usually doesn't need to ask; he just knows what's wrong, and eliminates the problem without a word. This time, though, he didn't know. How could he?
"No," I say flatly.
"Sure? Becauseā"
"I am fine," I snap, louder than anticipated.Ā
I immediately regret my tone when I see Bucky stiffen, the sound of his metal arm clenching into an unbreakable fist. He takes exactly three steps back from me; measured and calculated. His eyes terrified; I can almost see how he is searching for the possible threats or punishments he would receive, now that he senses the change in the mood. He's still as a sculpture, except for the arms; they are shaking from how strongly he is sqeezing his fist.
Oh, I fucked up.
"I'm sorry. It's just been a really hard week on me, I-"
"You're hurt."Ā
It's not a question, it's a fact.
"I'm not hurtā"
"I hurt you."
It's not a fact, it's a crime. At least that's how he says it.
I look down to the tiled floor where I can still spot the signs of Bucky's cooking. I cannot look at him. I would need to lie to his face and that is one thing I was never able to do. Not after what he's been through.Ā
I notice a small movement from him as he takes another step; farther. Way farther away from me. I take a deep breath and force myself to look at him, wishing I didn't as the sight instantly breaks my heart; his eyes are filled with tears, and he's so confused. Scared. Terrified of what is coming. He's gripping onto the side of his shirt, like he always does when he feels unsafe. A lump forms in my throat as I try to open my mouth to speak. I've ruined him.Ā
"Iā uh." The sound I made was barely a whisper, but it made him visibly flinch. "Do you... Do you not... want me?"
Bucky's terrified gaze turns into utter confusion in a matter of seconds. He blinks ā for the first time in maybe minutes ā as he's struggling to understand my question. I collect all my leftover courage and hope to keep talking.Ā
"You push me away," I say, trying to be as soft as possible. "We've been together for months, but never... together."
I feel so stupid for not being able to just straight out say it. I'm hoping he somehow understands what I mean, but judging by his scrunched eyebrows, I'm gonna have to be more specific.
Ā I let out a big sigh and close my eyes to make the embarrassment less painful. "Bucky, we never had sex."Ā
As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face drops. I lose him again somewhere very far away from me, and he keeps looking at me like I am about to destroy him completely.Ā
"If you don't want me, that's okay," I assure him, ignoring the bitter taste in my mouth. "I know I'm not the prettiest girl, and you've probably seen betterā"
"No!" he snaps, so I lift my head up. He looks horrified, like I've just said something unspeakable. I wait for him to continue, but instead, he keeps staring at me, as if his eyes could tell everything he is unable to.
"No?" I echo. "Then why do you run every time I try to touch you like that?"
He breaks the eye contact by strictly looking at the kitchen counter right in front of him; or at anything that is not me. From all the months I've spent in his presence, I recognize this look too well. He's ashamed.Ā
"Bucky..."
Silence. He grips the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in his hands. A nervous tick, but to him, a grounding mechanism. He's really trying not to lose himself.
"Iā, I don'tā," he stutters. "I don't know how."
"What?" I blink. āBucky, youāveāā I hesitate. āYouāve been with other women before.ā
His head jerks up with a flicker of panic and frustration.
Ā āThatās notāthatās different.ā
āDifferent how?ā
Bucky is refusing to look at me, so I stand up from my seat to make way towards him. He takes a sharp breath when I'm within his reach, but doesn't move. That's a good sign.Ā
"Look at me, baby," I ask, softly. His eyes snap up instantly, and I see it all there. The fear, the desperation, the battlefield in his head. "Tell me what's wrong."
He tries to do so; he opens his mouth, swallows, exhales, shakes his head, tries again, but he fails, no matter how hard he tries.
"Do you want me?" I ask bluntly.
He nods, still staring at the marble countertop. Okay.
"Are you scared to ask for what you want?"
Another nod.Ā
"Do you trust me?"
This one is instant.
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
He lets out a shaky breath before he swallows. He turns his head to me, face flustered, his chest moving up and down as he tries to regulate himself.
"Please, can youā," his voice dies before he can finish. He clearly is struggling, like he doesn't know how to want things and the fact breaks a small part of my heart permanently.
"Go on, Bucky. What do you need?" I encourage him.
"Iā," he stutters, and then shakes his head hard, like the words are physically hurting him inside his head.
Ā His body, however, tells the truth on behalf of him. The way his hands tremble and his chest heaves with each exhale, the way his metal fingers twitch against his thighāhe is fighting himself.
I let the silence stretch, waiting, watching the way his face twists with frustration, with hesitation. With want.
āBaby,ā I say softly.
His eyes cracks open, blue burning with something raw, something pleading. He sucks in a breath, and for a moment, I think he finally gives in, but then he shakes his head again, hard, turning his face away.
I click my tongue, grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. āYou want something. I can see it. I can feel it.ā
His chest rises sharply, lips parting, but still, he doesn't speak. I lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.Ā
āDo you need me to guide you?ā
His entire body jerks, a sharp inhale ripping from his throat. His fingers are clenching into fists, the tremor rolling through his shoulders like a quake. But he still doesn't answer me.
My grip tightens slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. āBucky, if you donāt tell me what you need, I canāt give it to you.ā
He exhales shakily, a frustrated, broken sound. His brows knit together, his hands lifting before falling back to his thighs, his whole frame trembling.
āPlease,ā he whispers.
My heart clenches. āYes?ā
His head dropped forward, breath ragged. āPlease⦠please tell me what to do.ā
Oh.Ā
Oh, fuck.
I smile, slow and knowing, letting the moment stretch, letting him feel the weight of what he's just asked for.
āIāll show you.ā I say, and I find my voice firm. Commanding.
His breath stutters, his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight with restraint, with hesitation. Heās fighting it, clinging to the instinct to resistāuntil I lean in, my mouth brushing over the shell of his ear.
Ā āIf you'll be a good boy for me.ā
The sound he makesāsoft, broken, fucking relievedārips through me like a shockwave. My core tightens, ignites, burns, a volcano threatening to erupt at the sheer power of it.Ā
Bucky Barnes is submissive. For me.Ā
"Follow me," I say, and as if I freed him from an invisible curse, he makes his way after me.
All at once, every doubt I ever hadāabout myself, about usādisintegrates. How did I not see this before? How could I have been so blind? He doesnāt need distance. He doesnāt need time. He just needs me. Me in control. Me guiding him. Me telling him exactly what to do.
And fuck, if that isnāt the most intoxicating realization of all, I don't know what is.
I may not be the most experienced woman alive, but that doesnāt matter right now. What matters is that he needs me to be present. He needs me to take this. Own this. Thereās no room for doubt, no room to shy away, when he trusts me to take care of him.
I release him just to check his expression, searching for even the slightest hint of hesitation, but to my surprise, I find none. Not a single trace. His eyes track my every movement, locked onto me like a soldier awaiting an order.
And it shouldn't turn me on the way it does.
"Do you want me right now?" My voice is steady, even as I close the space between us, just by one step.Ā
His gaze sweeps over me, dragging from my lips, to my throat, to my body before he gives a sharp, assured nod.
Ā "Then take off my dress."Ā
He moves instantly, without hesitationālike heās been waiting for this since the moment he met me. His fingers find the hem of my dress; his touch cautious, reverent, like heās afraid I might pull away at any second. Like he canāt quite believe this is happening.
The contrast of his warm, flesh hand on one thigh, and his ice-cold vibranium fingers on the other, sends a shiver tearing down my spine. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the fabric over my head, the brush of his knuckles against my skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Once Iām bare before him, he takes a small step backājust to look. His lips part slightly, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling faster, deeper. His eyesāpiercing, devastatingāroam every inch of me, burning me from the inside out.
And then, he moves.
He throws the dress across the room without looking, never once taking his eyes off of me. His entire body is vibrating, like heās barely holding himself together, barely restraining the need thrumming beneath his skin.
The sight of him is stealing every breath I have left.
āCan I take your shirt off?ā I break the silence, my own voice softer now.
āPlease,ā he begs.
I waste no time. I step in, close enough for his ragged breath to ghost over my skin, and strip him bare. Itās a summer night, so heās only wearing a thin, black V-neck, already clinging to the sweat on his chestāor at least, he was. With one fluid motion, I pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor.
I take a moment, just a few seconds, to admire him.
His body is all strength, broad shoulders and sculpted muscle carved by battle and time. Scars litter his skin, testaments to wars fought and survived, and yet, under the soft glow of the moonlight, he looks like something untouchable. Ethereal. Unreal.
I swallow hard, licking my lips as my gaze travels downward, over his defined abs, the way they tense under my attention, down to the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. I feel it thenāthe heat pooling low, the unbearable pulse between my thighs. And heās just standing there, watching me, eyes so dark theyāre nearly black.
Iām already so wet for him, itās almost embarrassing.
"Undress me," I whisper.Ā
His breath catches, eyes flash with hunger, the way they always do when he wants but wonāt take. But this time, he moves.
With careful fingers, he reaches behind me for the clasp of my bra, hesitant yet desperate. This is as far as weāve ever gone. Four months of waiting, of skirting the edge, of Bucky refusing to let himself see me without clothes. Back then, I thought it was because he didnāt want me, because I wasnāt enough.
But now? Now I know the truth. He wouldnāt have known what to do. He was afraid to ruin this. Afraid to ruin me.
I snap out of my thoughts as I feel the cold air of the AC dance on my bare torso. My nipples instantly harden as a result, and Bucky notices it just as quickly. His lips are apart, and he's staring at them like an animal on his prey. The way he wants me fills me with every ounce of confidence Iāve ever needed.
"You can touch them," I whisper, not sure he even heard me, but then he takes two steps towards, putting his flesh hand on my waist.
I gasp, the breath catching in my throat as his warm, steady touch trails up my skin. His movements are slowāpainfully, torturously slowālike heās memorizing me with his hands, drinking me in through touch alone. He reaches my left breast and he cups it, his thumb immediately finding my hard nipple. His breath shudders, sharp and heavy, his chest rising with a strained inhale as he circles my achingly hard peak with his thumb, teasing, testing, learning me.
I struggle to hold in my moan, my teeth sinking into my lip as he pinches it, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. And fuck, heās watching. His vibranium arm remains stiff at his side, fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist, his jaw slightly slack, his lips parted as he watches himself touch me.
Heās fascinated. Hypnotized. Like this is the first time heās ever allowed himself to truly want something.
"Both hands, please." My voice is barely a whisper, barely a sound, just a needy, broken plea. His head snaps up, and for the first time in what feels like forever, his eyes meet mine.
His metal hand, still clenched in restraint, relaxes. With slow, careful hesitation, he brings it up, inch by inch, his fingertips skimming my ribs before finallyāfinallyāhe touches me. A shiver rips through me, my body instinctively arching into the icy contrast of metal against my heated skin. I donāt pull away; if anything, I lean into him, chasing the sensation, craving more.
"You're being so good for me," I praise, my voice low.
Bucky fucking breaks.
His entire body stutters, trembles; his breath hitching, his knees nearly buckling beneath him as a wrecked, desperate whimper falls from his lips.
Fuck. That has to be the sexiest sound in the world.
āCan Iāā His voice cracks, his fingers flexing against my skin. āCan I please kiss you?ā
He is pleading, over and over, his voice shaky, utterly undone.
āPlease, I need it. Please.ā
His words shoot straight to my core, the need in his voice a direct pulse between my legs. I want him so much, I might sublime from the heat he ignites inside me.
I donāt hesitate. I grab his arm, pulling him against me, forcing his bare chest to crash into mine. He melts against me, his body burning, muscles taut, already trembling with restraint. And then, I kiss him. Or maybe he kisses me. Either way, the moment our lips meet, Bucky loses himself.
He kisses me like heās starving, like heās drowning and Iām his only air. His mouth is hungry, relentless, desperate, lips crashing into mine as heās trying to devour me whole.
And fuck, his hands.
They roam everywhere, one gripping the small of my back, the other skimming just beneath my panties, teasing, taunting me, and just when I think it couldn't get any better, his metal hand clamps around my ass, gripping tight, keeping me steady. Feeling the cool vibranium pressing into my heated skin, I moan straight into his mouth, my body shuddering in his hold.
āPut me on the bed. Now.ā
The words leave me in a command, and Bucky moves before I can even take another breath. With one arm, just one, he lifts me with ease, like I weigh nothing to him. He lays me down, gentle but firm, already moving to cover me with his bodyābut I stop him.
āNot yet.ā
I shake my head, and he immediately halts, his breathing labored, controlled. He looks wrecked, like he's using every bit of self control to keep himself away from me. Still kneeling between my legs, still so fucking obedient, and yetāhis eyes. His fucking eyes, theyāre eating me alive.
āTake it off,ā I order, nodding toward his jeans.
Bucky keeps his eyes locked on mine, hands trailing down, slow and deliberate as he reaches for the button of his jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, theyāre undone. His piercing gaze never leaves me, his eyes dragging over every inch of my body, devouring, worshipping.
I don't have much time before he stands up and slowly pushes his jeans down. I gasp when I see the thin, black material of his boxers that do nothing to hide him. The thick, heavy outline of him, pressing against the fabric, takes my breath away.
Iāve never seen him like this before. Not even close. Iāve felt himāhard, pressing against me on nights where heād let himself have just a little. But then he would stop and shut it down. I couldn't understand why, not until now, and I don't have one second to think about it, because he pushes his boxers down. His cock is finally bared to me in full, and Jesus fucking Christ.
He is huge. How is that gonna fit?
āPlease,ā I hear a small plea towards him, and I shot my eyes back to his face.Ā
His breath is wild, erratic, chest heaving like he canāt get enough air, like heās on the edge of breaking. His flesh hand is poised, ready to touch himself, to relieve even an ounce of the pressure, but he doesn't. Not without my word. I bite my lip, reveling in the power of it, in the way his entire body trembles under restraint.
āTake this off, too,ā I instruct, gesturing to the lace panties that Iād bought months agoāback when I thought heād see them then.Ā Back when I thought weād be here so much sooner.Ā
But I donāt have a single complaint left in my body, because when Bucky finally movesāhe rips them off. The thin fabric tears from me in one sharp pull, and for a split second, I wonder if he just ripped them in half.
His eyes drag over me, drinking in every inch of bare skin, mapping the places heās never let himself truly look at before. I feel just how wet I am, now that thereās nothing to soak up the slick. I can feel it all pooling between my thighs, proof of just how badly I want him.
A flicker ofĀ shyness grips meāhow did I get this lucky? How did I end up with him, undone and starving, in front of me? But I donāt let myself hide; instead, I sit up slowly, deliberately, my movements calculated, letting myself kneel on the soft mattress.
I look up at him, like I could devour him with a single breath. The six-foot-tall ex-assassin is towering over me, radiating pure heat, his entire body coiled tight like a predator barely holding back.
And then, soft as a prayer, I say, āI want you.ā
As if Iāve broken a curse, Bucky snaps. His fingers clamp around my throat, his mouth slamming into mine, the sheer force of it knocking me back onto the bed. He pins me down, all of his weight pressing into me, heavy, suffocating, absolutely fucking perfect. The way he kisses me makes me crazy; he's hungry, possessive, and so filthy, I can only moan as a response.
His cock, thick and heavy, sliding between my soaking slit, his length gliding right over my clit with each slow, torturous grind.
āFuckāā I moan straight into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting up, chasing every ounce of friction he gives me.
I lose every bit of control I had left. Overcome with greed, I grab at him, pull at him, take as much as I can. My fingers tangle in his long hair, keeping him locked to me, refusing to let him break the kiss for even a second.Ā
I let my other hand wander; I trace the sharp lines of his back, trailing lower, until my palm finds his ass. I squeeze, hard, forcing him to rock against me even harder, dragging his cock rougher, deeper through my slick folds. My breathing is a wreck, my body moving instinctively, clinging to him, needing more, more, more.
I want him. All over me. Inside me. Taking me apart.
āCan Iāā His voice shatters, breathless. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes wrecked with need.
āCan I please put it in?ā
And fuck, he looks at me like a puppy, wide-eyed, begging.
āPlease, Iāll make you feel so good,ā he purrs against my neck, teeth grazing my skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses.
āGod, yes,ā I groan.
Bucky grabs himself, his fingers shaking with need as he positions his cock right at my entrance. He could thrust in immediately, take what we both want without hesitation, but he doesnāt. Instead, he pauses; his eyes flick back up to mine, searching, waiting, needing something more.
And I know exactly what he wants.
āBe a good boy and fuck me, Bucky.ā
I'm way past hesitation or shame. All I want is him taking over me, claiming me, pressing me into himself. The words shatter something inside him; his mouth parts, his pupils blown wide, and thenāwithout ever breaking eye contactāhe slides inside.
A broken moan leaves my lips as my spine arches, my body opening for him, stretching around him, and fuck, he fills me.
Completely. Entirely. Devastatingly.
Iāve been aching for this moment for months. Iāve fantasized about him taking me, and now heās finally inside me. A deep pressure builds low in my belly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as he pushes deeper and deeper, until I feel the blunt tip of his cock press against my cervix.
Heās so fucking hard. I can feel him throbbing inside me, feel the pulse of his cock against my walls, and it drives me insane. I wait for him to finally move, but after a few seconds of stillness, I open my eyes.
Bucky is watching me so carefully, his eyes flicking over my face, searching for even the slightest sign of discomfort. His arms shake violently, his knuckles white from gripping the sheets beside my head. Heās breathing fast, erratic, his small, shaky breaths cold against my ear. And heās moving too slowly, like heās terrified of losing control.
āRelax, baby. You can let go.ā
I lift my hand, gently stroking his beautiful face, my voice barely a whisper. His eyes soften, then immediately darken.
āI donāt want to hurt you,ā he rasps, his voice hoarse, ruined.
āYou canāt,ā I assure him. āI can take it. I want to take it.ā
The sound that escapes himāa helpless whimper, like heās been waiting his entire life to hear those words. His body trembles, his control hanging by a thread, his cock twitching inside me at the sheer relief of it.
He might be above me, but he is completely at my mercy.
āYouāre doing so good,ā I murmur, just inches from his lips, my breath fanning over his skin. āDonāt stop.ā
The second I say it, he melts.
Raw, desperate need unleashes from him so suddenly, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I wheeze in surprise, barely able to keep up before he grabs the bedframe above my head with his vibranium arm and picks up the paceāhard. The deep, wrecked moan that rips from his throat sets me on fire; a wildfire raging low and uncontrollable, consuming every last of my coherent thoughts. All I know is himāthe way he moves, the way he fills me, the way every precise thrust hits where I need him most.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and he collapses into me, his mouth claiming mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. His thrusts are relentless, shaking the entire goddamn bed, and I have to grip his vibranium arm for dear life just to keep myself in place.
Somewhere in his haze, even now, he thinks to protect meāhis flesh hand cradling the top of my head, shielding me from the bedframe. My chest tightens at the gesture, and I let my lips trail down his sweat-slicked neck in silent gratitude, my teeth grazing over his skin.
Something inside me snaps as I feel his salty skin on my tounge. My nails rake down his back, digging into the hard muscle, desperate to leave my mark. My teeth sink into his shoulder, biting, scratching, taking him. Weāre sliding against each other, slick with sweat, the heat of the summer night making everything feel even filthier, more raw, more real.
And Bucky is falling apart.
Heās moaning, breaking, unraveling against me, the sounds deep and ragged, each one rougher than the last. If I didnāt know betterāif I didnāt know how utterly overwhelmed with pleasure he isāIād think he was in pure agony from the helpless little cries slipping from his lips.
āTell me Iām good for you,ā he whispers, almost afraid to ask, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
āYouāre such a good boy for me, Bucky.āĀ
The words fall from my lips like a promise, and fuck, the sharp, broken gasp he lets out shreds me to pieces. Itās high and desperate, so fucking needy, and it goes straight to my core.
He kisses me, hard and possessive.
āIāve been waitingā¦ā His voice is unraveling, barely understandable.
ā⦠for so fucking long.ā
Then suddenlyā
Thrust.
āAnd youāā
Thrust.
āFeelāā
Thrust.
āSoāā
Thrust.
āGood.ā
His voice rasps in pure, guttural pleasure. Iām nothing but a puddle beneath him, completely ruined, and somehow, heās not finished.
His rhythm snaps, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, deeper, more possessive.
āMine,ā he snarls, his voice low, primal. He slams into me, hard, forcing me to take it.
āMine, you understand?ā
I canāt speak. Canāt think. Thereās no rational thought left, no words, just pure, consuming pleasure. So instead, I match his pace, my hips rolling up to meet every devastating thrust. The way his words set me on fire, I let the flames consume me. My orgasm builds dangerously fast, and Iām hanging by a fucking thread, barely holding on under the brutal precision of his movements.
āBuckyāGodāā
His name falls from my lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate.
āIāmāā
Judging by his increased pace, he knows exactly what I'm trying to say. He lifts himself, just enough to look me in the eyes, and Iām trying so hard not to let my eyes roll back, not to completely lose myself in him.
āPlease.ā
His voice shatters, breaking apart in my ear, pleading.
āPlease cum on my cock. Please, baby, pleaseāā
This is all I need to spiral. The coil inside me snaps violently, my entire body arching, shattering as a scream tears from my throat. I crash into pleasure, drowning in it, my walls clenching tight around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.
āOh, fuckāā Buckyās voice breaks, his hips stuttering, his rhythm completely unraveling as he feels me fall apart around him.
āThatās itāfuckāthatās my girl.ā
His praise sends a violent aftershock through me, my body trembling, shaking, completely spent. I gasp for air, trying to regulate myself after the most devastating orgasm of my life, but I don't stand a chance. Bucky's not finished, not yet.
āIāI canātāā
Buckyās voice isnāt even human anymore. Itās a shattered, breathless little whimper, choked between desperate gasps, his body trembling like heās about to break. His hips falter, his cock twitching so agressively inside me I swear I can feel it in my throat.
But he wonāt let go. Not yet.
Not without permission.
āPleaseāā
The word falls apart in his throat, barely even understandable.
āPlease, baby, pleaseāplease let me cum, I need it, I need you, I canāt hold it, I canātāā
Heās whining, his breath is gone, his voice is gone, his body is gone; he is completely, utterly mine.
āRelease it, baby.ā My fingers tighten in his hair, dragging him deeper inside me. āBe a good boy and give it to me.ā
And thatās it; he doesnāt just fall apartāhe disintegrates.
His hips slam forward, burying himself so fucking deep inside me, holding us together, his muscles locking up, convulsing. And if this wasn't enough, he whimpers.
āOhhhāfuck, fuck, fuckāā
His cock twitches and throbs uncontrollably, and I feel everything. The first violent, overwhelming pulse. The hot, thick flood of him spilling deep inside me. His hips keep jerking, his muscles keep locking up, his whimpers keep breaking apart into desperate, breathless sobs.
āBaby, babyāplease, please, oh my God, IāI canātāā
His hands claw at my waist, face burrowed into my neck, his breath a gasping mess. His voice cracks, completely breaking apart, and then a single, desperate sob escapes from him.
He cries. Bucky Barnes cries when he cums.
His body shakes uncontrollably, his hips rocking forward on their own, like heās trying to push it even deeper, like heās chasing something heāll never be able to reach.
āBaby, babyāplease hold me, pleaseāfuck, I love you, I love you so muchāā
His voice is cracking, completely gone, and I gasp as I feel another orgasm building inside me. Another slow, rolling wave, ignited by his moans, his desperate little whimpers, the way heās still trembling inside me.
āBuckyāoh, fuckāā
The second he realizes whatās happening, it destroys him all over again.
āBaby, youāre gonnaā Fuck, fuck, fuckāplease, baby, pleaseāā
His hips snap forward as a last burst of desperate energy, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I feel the bruises forming.
āOh, babyāplease, please cum on my cock again, I wanna feel itāplease, baby, please, pleaseāā
The filth of it, the raw need in his voice immedately shatters me. I scream his name, my body convulsing around him, my walls tightening, pulsing, taking him deeper, squeezing him so hard he sobs.
āOhāoh fuck, baby, Iām still cummingāā
His cock throbs again, another weak, helpless little spill, and he whimpers so high and wrecked he sounds like heās dying.
āI canāt stopābaby, I canāt stop, I canāt stopāā
His breath is gone, tears spilling onto my skin, his voice a trembling, begging mess, pleading for the final release. Not a moment later, he collapses.
His body slumps into mine; arms useless, his breathing erratic and broken. His tears still fall, his entire body shivering, overstimulated, still whimpering, still sobbing.
Heās still inside me, throbbing. Utterly gone from this world.
His hands stay locked firmly around me, fingers clutching, shaking, gripping, like heāll die if I let go. And on top of that, he just won't stop crying. Soft, helpless little sobs hide into my skin, as he's holding onto me for dear life.
āBaby,ā he whispers, his voice so broken and small.
āBaby, please donāt let goāplease donāt go.ā
My heart shatters to a million pieces in a matter of seconds. It becomes evidently clear that he's not here right now. Heās somewhere else, somewhere dark, somewhere cold, somewhere where he had nothing and no one. I feel it in the way he clings to me and his hands shake as they grip my waist. The way his face tucks into my throat, burrowing, searching, nuzzling like heās trying to disappear into me; like heās afraid this isnāt real.
"Shhh, Bucky,ā I murmur, kissing his damp temple. āIām right here. Iām not going anywhere.ā
Even though I wanted my words to soothe him, he breaks even more instead. His breath catches on a sob, his entire body curling into me, fingers fisting in the sheets, in my hair, in anything he can hold onto.Ā
āYouāre so good to me,ā he gasps, his voice shaking. āSo perfect, so soft, Iāfuck, I donāt deserve thisāā
His lips quiver against my skin, hands tightening around me, pulling me closer. The realization that heās not just crying from overstimulation, hits me like a brick. Heās crying because heās never felt this before.
Never felt this safe. Never felt this loved. Never felt this cherished, taken care of.Ā
āBucky,ā I whisper, cupping his tear-streaked face, making him look at me.
His blue eyes are glassy and vulnerable, still wet with tears. God, he looks so much younger like this. Like a little boy, back in the ā40s, nineteen years old, held too many responsibilities, never got held in return.
I immediately want to fix every bad thing that's ever happened to him.
āYou deserve all of this, my sweet boy,ā I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead. āYou deserve every single second of love. You deserve to be taken care of.ā
He lets out a tiny little sob that slits my heart in half, like a butcher knife.
āBut Iāā His voice cracks, his fingers digging into my waist. āI donātāI donāt know how to do this. I donātāā
His breath hitches, his chest rising, falling too fast. I know him enough to realize heās panicking, his brain is fighting him, pushing against the comfort, trying to tell him he doesnāt deserve this.
I also know how to shut it down. I pull him into me, wrap my arms so tightly around him that he has no choice but to believe that this is real. I'm real.
āItās okay, baby,ā I say gently, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax against mine. āYou donāt have to know how. Just let me love you.ā
He immediately eases into me, his breath slowing, his shaking finally dying down. He doesn't know, but he's holding my own broken pieces together too, since I've never felt a love so consuming before.Ā
āIf I fall asleep,ā he whispers, as if he is about to say something unthinkable, āwill you be here when I wake up?ā
My dear God.Ā
"Of course, Bucky. I'll be right here, always," I promise, my voice firm, not leaving any space for doubts in his broken mind.
He buries his face into my neck as an answer, and with that, Bucky Barnes is fast asleep in my arms.










