“You know, darling,” he says, his voice low and just a little bit gravelly in the small, dark space of her room, and she spins around on her heels as he flicks on the bedside lamp. “You sure know how to keep a guy waiting.”

Her lips twitch, threatening to curve into a smile. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

He chuckles as he eases himself off of her bed, and she lets her gaze trace down his bared chest, lingering at where his sweats are hanging low on his hips as he walks over to her. He reaches for her with his metal hand, gently grasps her chin in his fingers and tips her head back to meet his gaze. His lips curve at the corners in a small smirk, and he leans in, brushes his mouth over hers in a gentle, barely there kiss, the way he does every time she comes home. He’s only started spending nights at her apartment within the last three months, but it’s easy for her to forget what it was like before he’d become such an apparent presence in her home, in her life.

She eases her lips off of his, kisses the corner of his mouth before drawing away. “You didn’t have to stay up for me, sergeant,” she says, her voice softer as she leans into him a little more. She’s exhausted, but she can already feel it ebbing as he wraps his arms around her, draws her flushed to his chest.

“It’s alright.” He gives her that dimpled, boyish smile of his that almost always makes her swoon, just a little bit. “Naughty girls are always worth it.”

“Naughty?” she repeats with a raise of her eyebrows.

“You’ve let me bend you over the conference table and take you from behind,” he tells her, his voice smooth and deep and almost dangerous as he leans in and nips at her jaw. “You come to work without underwear because you know I’ll drag you into your office as soon as I find out.” He presses his face into her neck, exhaling a sharp, hot breath, and her eyelashes flutter at the tease of his lips against her throat. “You threw me onto the mats and rode me in the middle of the gym because you were so damn pissed that pinned you.” He sinks his teeth into her pulse, and she bites down on her lower lip to stifle a moan. “You are incredibly naughty, Director Hill.”

She breathes out a laugh. “I think that’s because you’re a bad influence.”

He draws away, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “You’re too damn stubborn to be influenced.” He tugs at the zipper of her dress, dragging it down her back, and she feels it starting to fall away from her shoulders as she holds his gaze. “Though maybe you can be persuaded to let me join you in the shower?”

She hums as she steps back, letting her dress fall to the floor, and a smirk tugs at her lips as his lips part ever so slightly, taking in the fact that she hadn’t been wearing anything underneath. “Is that a question or a command, Barnes?”

A low, rumbling groan rips from his throat, sounding very close to a growl as his lips are on hers again, harder and deeper and dirtier. He wraps his metal arm around her, all but dragging her forward and into the bathroom, and she sucks in a gasp as she feels herself being pressed hard up against the wall. He snaps at the clasp of her bra, pushing it off, and then he yanks her panties down with a harsh tug, biting down on her lower lip.

She presses her hands against his chest, drags her nails down the dips of his muscles and then slips past the waistband of his sweats. He groans as her fingers wrap around him, finding the wetness of his tip and spreading it over her palm before stroking down his length. “Sergeant,” she says, and his eyes blink open, his gaze a little hazed over as he meets her stare. She squeezes gently and his jaw ticks in his effort not to groan. “Turn on the water.”

“Fucking bossy,” he breathes out with a grin, stumbling a little as he steps backward. She keeps the strokes of her hands tight and teasing as he fumbles for the handle on the wall, very nearly tearing it off as he twists the water on.

“You love it when I’m bossy,” she retorts, using her free hand to push his sweats down his hips, and then he’s laughing as he slants his mouth over hers and bats her hand away, tugging her with him under the spray of the shower.

“Oh, darling,” he says against her lips, “it’s definitely the other way around.”

She leans away, arching an eyebrow as his metal hand slides over the curve of her ass, giving it a squeeze and very nearly making her jump.

“Turn around and put your hands on the wall,” he commands, and her heart stutters in her chest, a warmth unfurling in her stomach at his tone. There’s a bit of a smirk on his lips as he raises his eyebrows, almost as if daring her to challenge him, though he knows she won’t. Because she does love it. She loves it when he’s demanding, loves it when he’s rough, and there’s no one that can quiet her thoughts quite like him. His hand squeezes her ass again, just a little bit harder, and her lips part in a soft, strangled sort of moan as he repeats: “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”

She narrows her eyes ever so slightly, just because she feels like being stubborn, and he chuckles as she finally complies. She bends at her hips when she’s facing away from him, leaning over to press her palms flat against the tile. The spray from the water slides down her back, drips down her shoulders and over her breasts, making her arch her spine in an urge to shiver.

Then his hands slide over her hips, squeezing gently as the hard length of him presses between her legs.

“Remember the last time I had you like this?” he asks, leaning over her to kiss the top of her spine, then skimming his lips down the curve of her shoulder to bite into her skin. She draws a breath to tell him that she does; she remembers him pushing her up against the wall of showers in the locker room of the Facility, remembers the way her heart had nearly stopped when she heard Sam and Steve’s voices filtering in from the lockers. She remembers how it was the first time she and Bucky had ever gone without a condom, remembers how she felt so entirely overwhelmed by the bare stretch of him against her folds that she fucking begged for him not to pull out. (“Don’t waste it,” she’d demanded when she felt his hips jerking, his muscles tightening as his orgasm neared. “Come inside me.”)

But before she can even get a word out, he’s sinking into her from behind slowly - so fucking slowly - and her moan echoes off of the walls. He always feels so much deeper like this, making her knees quiver, making her walls flutter. She mewls as he pulls out, then scratches her nails against the tile as he snaps his hips, sinking back in. He does this once, twice, three times, his lips brushing against the curve of her throat as he finds a slow, teasing rhythm.

It’s somehow too much and not enough, and she groans in frustration, trying to roll her hips against the firm grip of his hands.

“Barnes,” she breathes, his name almost a curse, or maybe even a plea.

But he ignores her, keeping the deep, torturous pace of his thrusts as he continues with, “Every time I take a shower at the Facility, all I can picture is you pressed between me and the wall, biting down on my hand to keep from making a sound.” He bites down on her shoulder again, then soothes the indent of his teeth with a soft lick, smirking into her skin. “Sam and Steve almost walked in on us.” He snaps his hips, making her gasp with the sudden, sharp thrust, and a shiver rolls down her spine. “I think you’d like that.”

She mutters a curse, feeling the pressure tighten at the base of her spine, her heart stuttering in her chest.

“I think that’s why you like fucking at the Facility so much.” His hand slips between her legs, his fingers gliding over her slick folds to find her little bundle of nerves as his thrusts quicken. “I think you want someone to see us. To see you getting lost in your pleasure, forgetting to give a damn about what needs to be done.” His thumb moves over her clit in quick, tight circles, his other hand digging into her hip as he angles himself and thrusts in even deeper.

“Fuck me harder, sergeant.” She licks her lips, her breaths coming out quicker and shallower, her lungs burning. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

He groans, curves his body over hers as he draws his hand up from between her legs, pressing his fingers at her lips. She darts her tongue out, licking her wetness off of him, and then he grunts out a, “fuck,” as she wraps her lips around his thumb and sucks.

Her knees quiver, his thumb pressing harder into her mouth as the hand at her hip grips her so tightly that it almost hurts. She’s close, she’s so close–

Then, with a soft, feather-light kiss to her ear, he stills his hips, halting her right on that dizzying edge, and she whimpers. He slips his thumb out from between her lips, grasps her chin and tilts her head back to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark and stormy as he licks his lips, and she feels her stomach flutter at that dangerous twinkle in his gaze.

“You made me wait, darling, so now it’s your turn,” he tells her, his lips twitching in a smirk as he brushes her hair from her face. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

She breathes out a laugh, which dissolves into a moan as he starts to pull back out again, sending another ripple down her spine.

“Your boyfriend is quite scary.”

Maria tips her head back against Darcy’s shoulder as she laughs, swaying back-to-back with the girl as they’re pressed in the middle of the dance floor. She knows that wherever Bucky may be, his gaze trained on them - on her - and she feels a shiver of delight ripple down her spine at the thought of those dark, brooding eyes fixated on her, no doubt piercing a glare into every man and woman that even comes close to touching her. It shouldn’t delight her so much, and she’s not quite sure why it does. She never understood why someone would want to feel possessed like some kind of object. Not until Bucky. Because she knows it’s not about having something that someone else doesn’t. He doesn’t see her as some kind of prize and she knows it.

(He just feels so much for her that it pulls at the threads of his control, at his sensibility, and having that delicate hold on someone is strangely thrilling.)

She feels someone grab her wrist, and, for a fleeting second, she thinks maybe it’s Darcy trying to twirl her again - but then the grip tightens around her wrist and yanks her at her, and her first instinct is to shove Darcy out of the way so she flip her assaulter onto the floor. Before she can react, though, she feels something cold and wet hit her shoulder, and she’s hit with the fumes of the dark liquor that was spilt on her as it slides down her front, making her dress stick to her skin.

She twists her wrist free and yanks herself back as a low, rumbling growl rips through the air, and then Bucky is pushing her back into Darcy. Not nearly enough to feel forceful, but enough for him to wedge himself between her and whoever had just grabbed her wrist. She vaguely register the sound of Pietro’s voice gently shushing Darcy, no doubt murmuring something sweet and gentle and reassuring into her ear. But all Maria can focus on his Bucky’s broad shoulders in front of her, the muscles straining against his shirt, his metal arm glinting dangerously under the flashing lights of the club.

He has far more control over himself than he’s had in decades and she knows this.

Still. As much as she doubts he’ll feel sympathetic for some creep who decided he wanted to touch her, she’d rather him not do anything he’ll regret later.

“Easy,” she breathes out, knowing he’ll be able to hear her over the noise and music and chatter of the club. She steps forward, presses her lips to the back of his neck as she grasps arms, smoothing her palms up to squeeze his bicep. His muscles are pulled taut, practically vibrating, and she feels a warmth unfurl low in her stomach. She wonders if it’s wrong for her to feel so affected by this. If it’s wrong for her to love it so much when he gets protective of her.

“Are you alright?” He keeps his eyes trained forward, but she feels his body ease against hers ever so slightly.

“Yes,” she promises, kissing his neck again and giving his bicep another squeeze as she tugs him closer to her. “Help me get cleaned up.”

He glances over his shoulder to meet her gaze, his eyes dark and swirling and intense as they drop to her lips, then down to her chest, to the tease of skin bared by the low swoop of the neckline. She knows part of his aggression right now is because of his arousal of seeing her in her little black dress, swaying on the dance floor, and she wants him to focus on that - on her - rather than his fury of seeing someone putting their hands on her.

After a long moment, he nods, and she slides her hand down his metal arm and twins her fingers with his, urging him forward. He grunts as he shoulders his way past the asshole who’d spilt his drink on her, and he makes their way over to the bathrooms in the very corner. For once, there isn’t a ridiculous queue of people waiting there, and he tugs her into the single stall and locks the door behind them - and then she’s all but shoving him against it, pressing her lips to his. He groans as his arms come around her, pulling her close, and she thinks she’ll never get over how gentle he is. Even now, with his entire body pulled tight, still simmering in his anger, his calloused touch is a soft sweep over the bared skin of her back. His free hand reaches for her wrist, rubbing the pad of his thumb over it, no doubt checking for soreness. But she’s fine and she wants him to know it.

“Focus on me,” she breathes, reaching up to cup his jaw. He pulls back just a little to meet her gaze. Her lips curve. “Take it out on me.”

“Maria–”

She cuts him off with a shake of her head, slanting her lips against his again and kissing him harder, deeper. A low growl rips from the back of his throat.  Then she pulls back and narrows her eyes ever so slightly, her tone a little harsher now as she says, “Take control, Barnes.” She slides a hand up his chest, feeling his muscles twitch under her palm. “You’re about to burst. We can’t have that happen around all these people, can we?” She arches an eyebrow, and he swallows lightly, watching a haze fall over his eyes. “Remember? I can handle it.” She stretches on her toes, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. “So take it out on me.”

His hands come over her hips, turning her around and pushing her against the edge of the counter, and she grasps onto it tightly, sucking in a breath as it bites into her hips. She feels a tingle ripple down her spine and over her skin as she catches his gaze in the reflection, and it’s almost delirious, how soft his expression is as he curves his body over hers, pressing her a little harder against the counter. He lifts his metal hand, drags his knuckles over her cheek.

“We really are made for each other, aren’t we?” He gives her a little grin in the reflection, and it’s ridiculous how this makes her heart skip. “I can’t help but be rough, but you?” He presses his lips to her ear, bites down on her lobe, and her mouth parts in a soft moan. “I think you love that about me.”

Her heart flutters, her grip tightening around the edge of the counter.

“Do I?”

His metal hand slides between her legs, finding the wet folds of her sex, and her body sort of jolts at the cold sensation pressing over her clit.

“Am I going to have to pry the words out of you, Hill?”

She laughs, breathy and shaky, and his smile widens a little more. Fuck, she loves his smile.