#hotbuckysummer2023

"Who's this?" he asked as he shoved his phone in your face and blocked your view of the monitor. "And what is FYP? What the hell does that mean?"

You had to giggle after a moment. Your boyfriend had a habit of interrupting you while you worked to get some form of attention. It happened more times than you could count and you were lucky you got any work done at all when he was home. He told you in passing that after being alone for so long that he wanted to soak up every moment he could with you. 

I can't get mad when he puts it that way. 

"It means 'For You Page' and I have no clue who that is," you answered, gently pushing his hand away so you could get back to typing. "Why are you on TikTok, old man?"

"Why are you?" he asked, taking a seat on the loveseat near your desk. "Is this what you look at to get inspiration for your smut or whatever it is that you call it?"

"Hey!" you said, pushing away from your desk to turn and face him. "I write stories, thank you very much. Some of them just happen to include smut and there is nothing wrong with that."

Bucky had an all too smug expression on his face when he leaned back against the cushion and widened his massive thighs. He took up almost the entire two-seater sofa with his size. The gorgeous bastard finished up his workout earlier and didn't bother getting fully dressed after his shower. Just a new pair of sweatpants and no shirt, his long hair still slightly damp and daring you to run his fingers through it.

Showing off his broad torso like a harlot. 

"Sorry. You're right. You do tell stories and they are wonderful," he said, holding up his hands on surrender. His steel blue eyes had a hint of playfulness as he nodded to your laptop. "You almost done with your 'porn with plot' or should I come back later?"

You rolled your eyes as you spun away from him and pulled yourself back to your desk. "You're impossible. Turn my music back on and go back to watching TikTok videos."

"Or you could take a break and ride me," he suggested so casually your fingers froze on the keyboard. "Give you the motivation you need to finish."

With a defiant lift of your chin, you went back to typing. You did like his idea and it wouldn't be the first time you stopped writing to have Bucky pull an orgasm or two from you. The only reason you got a bigger desk was so he could fit under it. The image of him nearly getting stuck under your old desk brought a smile to your face. 

It also caused a tingling sensation between your legs when you remembered just how deep he stabbed his tongue into your aching pussy. 

"You can't ignore me, doll. Look at you. Already distracted and shifting in your chair," he said, his voice low. He knew exactly how it affected you. "So get over here."

Nope. His thick cock can wait for me to take a ride. 

"Bet you're not even working," he accused. It wasn't true. There were words on the screen. "You're typing just to look busy when we both know you're getting your seat wet through your clothes."

"Don't you have work to do yourself?" you asked incredulously, refusing to look over at him. If you did, you'd go right to him and he'd win. Both of you would win, but that wasn't the point. He cut into your work time when you couldn't cut into his.

It's not like I can show up in the middle of a mission and demand to suck his cock. 

"If by 'work' you mean your delicious cunt, yeah. I have a lot of work to do," he said. The unsubtle man he was, you knew he was about two seconds away from taking himself out and stroking his perfect cock. Anyone who said perfection didn't exist hadn't slept with Bucky Barnes. "I'll do overtime and you can pay me in orgasms."

Your head fell back against your chair with a groan. "Where is your off switch?"

"No off switch around you, doll. Only an on switch. You're lucky I don't knock stuff off the end tables since I'm practically a walking hard-on around you."

The sincerity in his statement had you beaming and laughing all at once. You wondered if something in the serum sent his libido into overdrive or if it was you who brought that side of him out. It did wonders for your self-esteem because no matter how you looked, he gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful creature to grace this planet. 

A small break wouldn't hurt. 

"If I step away for a few minutes," you began as you stared at the ceiling. "You have to transcribe the next few paragraphs for me so I can lay down and recover."

"Deal," he said, leaning over and gripping the chair handle to turn you toward him. "But I'm warning you. If you dirty talk, I'm gonna get hard all over again and we'll be right back where we started."

"It can't be any worse than the time you had me in your lap," you said as you lifted your head. He couldn't stop himself from running his hands along your body or kissing your neck. And that was before he had you warm his cock. "Don't look so smug. You owe me an orgasm."

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked. 

Lucky for you, Bucky always delivered on his promises. 

We can't resist Bucky, can we? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Sam chuckled. “I told you, man, you should wait until he’s out of the room to bring in new lists of purgatory for perfection.”

“He never takes a break. None of you take breaks,” Steve said.

“'Attitude reflects leadership, Captain.'"

"Don't quote Remember the Titans at me."

“Barnes just needs to fuck her.”

Steve’s head snapped over to Nat. “You know what, Romanoff?”

“She’s right,” Joaquin added without looking up from his screen, but a smirk on his face none the less. “His blood has been boiling for her for months, it’s about time he stops ignoring that.”

“Shit, Barnes!” you yelped, clutching your heart with one hand and an energy drink in the other. “Anyone ever tell you not to lurk in the dark?”

“I’m not lurking,” he groused.

“What else do you call lying in wait to confront someone? Especially in the dark? Alone? Leaning up against the wall, no less.”

You knew you were far from the only person in the building, but this late at night, you were the only tester still around and usually had this wing of the offices to yourself. This was a side gig for you, you only did it because you loved the game and loved getting to preview things before it was even sent to the beta test group of users, but that meant you usually only crossed paths with the handful of other official tester employees for SHIELD Games like ships passing in the night who basically clocked normal business hours.

“I don’t see you turning on any lights,” he said as you returned to your preferred spot on the couch.

“I prefer to play by glow of television,” you responded with a dramatic tone.

If Bucky rolled his eyes, you didn’t see it. “It’s how I’d be playing at home, keeps me focused so I can help you do your job.”

Which is why he was here confronting you, as you had so aptly noted. “I’m damn good at what I do.”

“And the only reason you hate my lists is because you’re already a god damn perfectionist so you can’t stand when I point out the flaws you missed or suggestions to make your work even better. But that’s why Maria hired me. Your community manager knew the user feedback I was giving when you launched the game was excellent.”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head, crossing his arms.

“Your game is only perfect after they put it in front of my face, Barnes.”

“Shut up.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Make me,” you said and took a swig of your energy drink.

Bucky pushed off the wall and in three swift, silent steps was in front of you. With your head tilted back as you drank, you only saw him when he leaned forward, looming over you. You spluttered a little, and he smirked.

“You won’t be able to talk with this in front of your face,” he said, as he opened the front of his jeans and pushed the denim and his boxers down his thighs in one go.

You would have roasted him for saying something so cliché in any other circumstance. But your brain was short-circuiting, and you were trying to rapidly re-establish the connections.

His right hand took the can out of your grasp and set it on the side table next to the couch, and his left hand cradled your chin, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

You looked up at him. Your heart was racing, and your pussy was thrumming. You were not certain this was real. He’d been the quiet one, a bit surly, but you had been surprised enough he’d come to confront you about the feedback in the first place and never would have put a penny on the odds of something like this happening with the gorgeous game designer you’d harbored a bit of a crush on but decided after the first week wouldn’t come to anything.

This was an unexpected side quest.

You nodded.

He pushed the tip of his cock to the edge of your lips, your tongue slipped out to circle the head. In one swift motion he gripped the back of your head and thrust his cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, and your hands flew up to hold onto his hips.

He used your mouth with abandon, and the hold of your hands on his hips was firm, encouraging. When you choked on his thick member, he slowed for a moment, then you squeezed his hip, and he speed up to his brutal pace again. This happened twice more, you having taken him deeper in your throat each time. Tears streamed down your face now, and he groaned when he looked down at you.

“You look so god damn beautiful,” he couldn’t help saying.

You whimpered, and he swept a thumb over your cheek, wiping away the tears, then brought them to his mouth.

He could feel the build of his climax at the root of him, and pulled out of your mouth abruptly, knowing he was too close to finishing and not ready for this to come to an end yet.

You fell forward, but he was instantly kneeling in front of you, ready to catch your lips with his. The kiss was hungry, and your mouth full of the taste of him made Bucky groan again. Your hands tangled in his hair, slotting in despite being pulled back in a low bun. His hands had returned to hold your head as commandingly as they had when he was fucking your throat – one in your hair, one along your jaw.

When you were absolutely breathless, you finally pulled away.

Foreheads planted against each other, breaths still mingling, you licked your lips.

“Why don’t I show you what these hands can do?” he asked, one hand falling to your hip, rubbing his thumb down the crease of your thigh toward your core.

“Don’t tease.”

“Oh, no,” he agreed. Then with both hands, he pulled your hips to the edge of the cushion, hooked his fingers into the top of your pants, and peeled them down along with your panties. You pushed up to raise your hips so he could remove them completely, but your efforts were hardly needed as he used one hand to push you up, and the small show of unexpected strength made your insides squirm. He was built – you had seen it – but you hadn’t experienced the reality of it.

Bucky didn’t leave you a second to think about it any further as his fingers slid up and down your wet slit, he spread your outer folds and stroked your soft inner folds, and you moaned. Your eyes slipped shut, but you felt him watching your face. He was watching for how you reacted to each of his ministrations. He pinched your clit, and you yelped.

Your eyes flew open, and you saw his were filled with a mischievous glint. “Just testing all the possibilities,” he said.

You hit his shoulder. “I said no teasing!”

“You always want the experience to have more unexpected elements for the user to play with.”

“Bucky!” You did not want to hear one of your recent lines of feedback recited back to taunt you.

Except you did.

He was playing this game so well.

He slipped two fingers from that large, warm hand of his inside your cunt and began to pump. Your eyes melted closed again, and seemingly satisfied with his study, you felt Bucky claim your lips for more kisses while he pulled you closer and closer to an orgasm. It built steadily, his thumb at your clit, fingers in your channel, but when he curled those fingers and found the spongy spot against your pubic bone, it hit you instantly, and you cried out his name. He pulled your head into the crook of his neck while his other hand slowed in your cunt but helped prolong riding out the waves of your pleasure.

“Satisfactory experience?” he asked once your breathing started to return to normal.

You laughed against his shoulder, then pulled back to look at him. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, and he smiled.

“You know, I wasn’t afraid to poke the bear because you’re brilliant, I knew you could take it. You want to be the best, and I help give you that.” You reached down and took his still hard, leaking cock in your soft hands, and Bucky’s breath hitched. “Now, do you want to let me take you? I’m aching for you to fill me up.”

He groaned. “You can’t say shit like that.”

You nipped at his bottom lip and smirked. “Yes, I can. This company values my direct and honest feedback.”

He huffed a laugh.

“Where do you want me?”

Bucky quickly shoved his jeans all the way down his legs and settled down next to you on the couch, legs spreading wide. “In my lap.”

“Sounds just about right,” you said, straddling him.

His eager hands pulled your slick cunt flush against his groin, and you both moaned. You planted your hands on his broad shoulders, and rocked your hips just a little bit. Even that short back and forth of friction, his cock stroking your engorged clit, had your head falling back. Bucky pressed his lips to the column of your throat, not wasting an opportunity so inviting in the moment. You sighed and held his head to your neck where he continued to explore and mark you with slow, hot kisses, finding the places that made you shiver.

While you were lost in those sensations, Bucky reached down and lined his cock up with your slit, but that brought you back to the thrumming need to be filled by him, and you sunk down while he thrust up into you. He was thick, and he filled you more than you were used to, but not to a point of pain - far, far from it.

“Feel so good inside me,” you keened.

“No feedback?”

“Just fuck me until I can’t breathe, Buck.”

“With pleasure,” he growled.

After passing through two intense first levels of play, climbing to the final peak did not take long. One of his hands remained anchored at your hip to control the punishing but desired pace of thrusts, but his other steadily slid underneath your shirt and up your spine in a delicate way in contrast to everything else happening in the moment, including your lips returning to his in another kiss designed to devour.

Bucky felt you hit that crest of the climax, your muscles seizing in a moment of bliss, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. As you came down, he maneuvered you both to lay your back on the couch while he did just as you asked and continued to thrust into you hard, you boneless but in a blissful haze, unconcerned with trivial things like breathing, while he pursued his own pleasure. Then all at once he groaned and began to spill his hot seed inside of you, pausing for a second with the first ropes of cum, but then continued with deep, slow thrusts until he was completely spent.

It was a snug shuffling, but the two of you managed to get so you were both laying on your sides on the couch, your back up against the cushioned backboard, Bucky’s back to the glow of the giant television screen so all his muscled angles were silhouetted for you to admire in the afterglow. His legs were bunched up – possibly uncomfortably – and you tangled yours with his. You pushed some hair that had escaped from its knot at the back of his head off of his face, and he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm.

“I think we’ll need to continue testing this,” you whispered against his lips.

You felt them curve into a smile before he said, “Thorough testing, absolutely. Need to explore all potential scenarios.”

“I’m glad you’ll be more amenable now to my feedback.”

“Oh, I never said that.”

You poked him in the ribs.

“Come on, you love the complex storylines. You don’t want me easily conquered.” And before you could protest, and claimed your lips again, this time in a long, slow kiss, no intention of leaving any time soon.

Too caught up with each other, neither of you heard the approaching footsteps, the gasp on discovering you, the moans they bit back when they gave over to touching themselves there in the dark, watching you, or their nearly silent retreat.

READ THEIR FOLLOW UP IN TEST PLAY

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You hadn’t heard from Bucky since he left for his last mission. That wasn’t something that was necessarily unusual—it wasn’t uncommon for him to drop off the radar for a couple weeks at a clip. You’d known that was part of the deal for a long time, long before the two of you had started whatever relationship it was that you had now.

At first you two were just roommates. Hell, you didn’t even want to refer to the two of you as friends for a while at the start. It wasn’t that you disliked each other, but Bucky didn’t seem like he was really the type who was keen on making friends. He was civil with you, cordial, but it wasn’t as though the two of you spent a lot of quality time together. He spent most of his time in his room unless he was showering or cooking. The times when he was home alone you’d come back to the apartment to find him in the living room, but once it was the two of you again, he’d soon retreat back to his own space. You mentioned to him on more than one occasion that the living room was considered a common area for a reason—it wasn’t as though only one of you could be there at a time, but he always found a way to brush the comment off.

It wasn’t until he came home in the middle of the night from a mission while you were in the kitchen making yourself a midnight snack that the two of you had any interaction of real substance. You heard the apartment door open and you were automatically on-edge. Bucky was known to come and go at all hours, and while no one had ever tried to break into your place, you knew that there was always a first time for everything.

So, you grabbed a knife from the knife block and slowly crept towards the door. You heard someone let out a soft grunt, followed by heavy booted footsteps on the floor. Your grip around the knife handle tightened as you held your breath. Reaching around the corner, you quickly turned on the lights and stepped around the corner, effectively not only scaring the shit out of Bucky, but also yourself. You were a lot of things, but one thing you were not was someone who thrived in fight or flight situations.

“Jesus,” Bucky said, bracing himself against the arm of the couch, recovering once he realized it was you. He made a small gesture to the knife in your hand. “What the hell are you doing?”

You huffed, heart still pounding inside your chest as you let your arm drop carefully back to your side. “What the hell are you doing?” you shot back.

His brows knit, confused, like the answer was perfectly, obvious. To his credit, it was. “Trying to come home?”

“It’s almost 2AM. Why didn’t you just stay—”

“I wanted to be in my own bed,” he cut you off. He shook his head at you. “Why am I getting interrogated for wanting to be in my own apartment?” He paused. “Why are you awake at 2AM?”

You pointed back towards the kitchen with the knife, which would’ve been more amusing if either of you were less frustrated or less exhausted. “Wanted a snack.”

He huffed out a laugh, one that almost sounded a little bit amused. “Right.”

“Want some?” you offered, like an olive branch. “Quesadillas.”

“At 2AM?”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to have any of it. Just thought—”

“I’m good,” he cut you off, “but thanks.” He watched as you nodded, both of you still just standing there, occupying the same space because neither knew what move to make next. “Goodnight,” he finally said, prying his hand off the couch so he could slowly keep making his way towards his room.

You stepped to the side, letting him pass. You couldn’t help but notice that he was moving slower than usual, not quite limping but definitely stiff. “Do you need—”

“I’m good.”

You sighed, letting your head drop back so you were staring up at the ceiling. Someday the two of you would get through a conversation where he actually let you finish your sentences. Once he shut his bedroom door behind him, you shut off the lights in the living room again, retreating back to the kitchen to put the knife away and finish making your snack.

You were just putting the dishes in the sink, thinking you’d rather do them tomorrow than right in that moment. Right when you reached to turn the kitchen light off, you heard footsteps again. Lighter this time, but still slow. You stopped and waited.

Bucky came all but hobbling into the kitchen. He made a beeline for the refrigerator, opening the freezer side and pulling out a frozen water bottle. Immediately he brought it down to his leg, rolling it against his thigh over the lounge pants he’d changed into.

You frowned slightly at the sight. “Anything I can do?”

He shook his head, eyes still fixed on his leg. “No.”

You nodded, not looking to push things with him, especially not at the given hour. “Okay. Well…you know where to find me if…” you trailed off, not really sure how you wanted to end the sentence. Really, you didn’t know what you could offer him that he wouldn’t be able to do for himself. It felt wrong to not put the offer out there, though.

He nodded, still not looking at you. “Thanks.”

You turned and were going to start heading back to your room. Just as you were going to round the corner into the short hall that separated your rooms from the rest of the apartment, you looked back over your shoulder to see Bucky peering into the fridge again, this time looking for something to eat rather than just an ice pack.

With his back to you, you could see a stripe going down his shirt, just beside his left shoulder, where he was bleeding through. You frowned, considering for a moment if you should say something or not. He’d never been one for unsolicited commentary.

“Bucky?” you said, leaning against the wall.

“Yea?” he responded, still digging around the fridge for something that required no effort to eat.

“I, uh, I think…I think you’re bleeding?” You watched as he finally looked at you, glancing back over his shoulder like he was trying to figure out if you were being honest or not, not that you’d lie about something like that but he still didn’t trust anyone off the rip. You made a vague gesture to the area where the blood was, not that you were really close enough for it to matter. “Your shoulder.”

Recognition washed over his face, quickly followed by annoyance. “Shit.”

“I’ve got bandages,” you nodded towards the bathroom. “If you want, I can…I mean just so you don’t bleed everywhere.”

The apprehension was clear as day on his face, but he knew you were being practical. Plus, he really didn’t feel like having to get new shirts and sheets if he didn’t have to. He sighed, finally giving in with a nod. He shut the fridge door, opening the freezer and tossing the water bottle back into it with a little more force than necessary before shutting that door too.

When you came back to the kitchen, you found him sitting at the counter. His back was to you, his shirt clutched tightly in his metal hand as he braced himself on the edge of the counter. You didn’t say anything as you set the box of bandages down next to him, taking a couple out so that you could try to completely cover the cut that was running along his back.

It was the first time you’d ever seen him without his shirt on. He was always at least in a tank top when he came out of his room, always made sure he dressed before stepping out of the bathroom after his showers. Until now you’d thought it was just a courtesy thing, the same way he never really stayed in the living room or kitchen with you for too long. But as you looked at his back, seeing the scars and the bruises, you had a whole new understanding of it all.

“Is it bad?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You shook your head, and it took a moment for you to remember that he couldn’t see you. “Not too bad. You won’t, uh, you shouldn’t need stitches. Bandages for a couple days should be find until it scabs over a bit.” You paused, delicately placing the first bandage on the upper half of the cut. “This is gonna sound stupid,” you started with a laugh.

You heard the sharp exhale he let out through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’d heard from him in a long time. “Good. Love that.”

You laughed a little harder, heat flaring up in your face. “I just, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t realize that you could…I just thought that since you’ve got that super soldier thing…”

“I’m not invincible,” he said, his tone sarcastic but not nearly as mean as it could’ve been. “Takes more to do damage. Heal quicker. But I’m not…yea.”

“Hmm,” you hummed in acknowledgment as you applied the second bandage.

“What?”

“No, nothing, I just, I didn’t know. Feels weird to ask.” You chuckled nervously. “God forbid it sounds like a weird threat.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, looking exhausted but also a little amused. “Didn’t want to ask what it would take to kill me?”

“That’s not what I said,” nervous laughter spilled out of you, your entire face and neck feeling like they were on fire. Stepping away, you threw the little slips of paper from the bandages into the trash, finally looking Bucky in the eye again once you did. “You should be all set. Honestly, if you really do heal quicker, you’ll probably only need those on for the next day or so.”

“Thank you,” he told you as he got up off the stool at the counter.

You nodded, offering up a quiet, “You’re welcome,” as he went back to the fridge again, t-shirt still clutched in his hand. You chuckled softly. “There’s enough to make another quesadilla if you want.”

Things had started to change between the two of you after that. It was slow, gradual, but you noticed it. You never went out of your way to bring up what had happened that night, because really it wasn’t that big of a deal—it wasn’t like you’d had to reattach a limb for him. It was just a couple band-aids. But it was enough to tip the scales just slightly. It started off with small things. When Bucky would cook while you were home, he made enough for both of you. Depending on what you were watching, he’d accept the invite to sit in the living room with you to see whatever show or movie you had on.

Over time, your conversations stopped being quite as one-sided. You didn’t think that Bucky was ever a chatterbox even on his best day, but it did eventually get to the point where he was giving you answers that were more than two or three words at a clip. He’d ask you questions instead of just you asking him things. Not only that, but it seemed like he was actually listening to the answers.

After that first night in the kitchen when you’d been ready to stab Bucky with a kitchen knife, he promised that he’d make sure to text you whenever he got back after a mission, giving you an ETA so you wouldn’t freak out again. It was a small but appreciated gesture. No matter the hour, you were pretty much always up, and always cooking or eating something when he got home. In the back of Bucky’s mind he knew that you did it on purpose, one gesture in return for another, but he didn’t allow himself to process the full weight of it, the real comfort that he could get from it. Too afraid to acknowledge it out loud in fear that it was going to get taken from him.

Then one night after he got home from a mission, walking into the apartment at an hour that was too late to be nighttime but too early still to be morning, he found you standing at the stove in the kitchen. He lingered in the doorway, every muscle in his body feeling exceptionally heavy after how things had played out in the field. As much as part of him had wanted to come straight home and collapse into bed, another part of him was looking forward to the exact sight that was in front of him now.

“It’s nothing fancy,” you said with a laugh as you turned around, one plate in each hand, “but—” You stopped short when you looked up and saw the state that bucky was in. “Holy shit.”

His eyebrows lifted just slightly at your reaction. He knew why you’d reacted that way, but he was too tired to get into it all. You set the plates down on the counter with a light clatter before quickly making your way to the other side of the counter to him. His face was littered with bruises, a small cut through his eyebrow and a few others on his cheek. Nothing that required a doctor’s visit, but you knew that if his face was this bruised, the rest of him was too.

“What happened?” you asked, reaching out to touch his face before you could think better of it.

He flinched slightly at your touch, and it was only then that you realized what you were doing. Bucky saw the panic flash across your face and he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t get it out. It’d been a long time since someone had been gentle like that with him.

“Long story,” he finally said with a shake of his head.

You nodded, trying to be understanding while also knowing there was no way you could try to wrap your head around the situation. “Right.”

Bucky saw the way that your eyes would drift from his to the bruises, worry in your expression as you tried not to stare. It was the most visibly beat up he’d been in a while upon getting home from a mission. Reaching out, Bucky rested his right hand against your shoulder, his grip gentle, warm even through the fabric of your t-shirt. You were extremely aware of the fact that it was the first time Bucky had ever touched you like that, given a passive form of affection.

“It looks bad,” he conceded with a weary chuckle, “but I’m alright.”

The ends of your mouth turned up just slightly as you nodded. “Okay.”

When he came back to the kitchen after changing and dropping off his things, he found you sitting at the counter patiently waiting for him. He plopped down heavily in the seat next to you, neither of you saying much for the moment as you ate what was essentially going to be an extremely early breakfast.

You grabbed both your plates when you’d finished, bringing them to the sink. Checking the time on the stove, you sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fall back to sleep at that point. The best you were going to be able to hope for was going to bed extremely early the next night to make up for the lost time.

“I’m gonna make coffee,” you said over your shoulder as you grabbed a mug for yourself. “You want some? I know you’re probably just gonna pass out.”

Bucky stared at you, watching you going through the motions of something so simple, something he had definitely seen you do plenty of times before. He cleared his throat. “I’ll take one. I slept on the plane back,” he lied, desperately wanting to sleep but now tempted to try and stay awake with you at least for a little while. “Won’t be able to pass out for a bit.”

He listened to your hum of acknowledgment as you reached up to grab a second mug for him. He sat for a moment, trying to piece apart all the different thoughts and feelings racing through his mind. It was impossible for him to look at anything but you as you leaned forward, bracing your hands on the edge of the counter to keep yourself upright while you waited for the coffee to brew.

Getting up off the stool, Bucky walked over to you. Your mind was miles away, and you didn’t hear him walk up behind you. It wasn’t until he tapped your shoulder that you snapped to attention. You flinched, spinning around since he caught you off-guard. You nearly smacked into him, not expecting him to be standing so close to you. He always managed to leave a buffer between the two of you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice unsteady when you didn’t mean for it to be.

He nodded. “I’m good.” He paused, racking his brain for the right words. “Thank you,” was all he managed to come up with, but it was better than nothing.

You laughed, a little breathless from the fact that he was still standing so close to you. “It’s nothing.”

Neither of you moved, or spoke, you hardly even breathed in the next few seconds that passed. Bucky didn’t take his eyes off yours and it had you feeling like you were about to melt into the floor. Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, you reached up towards his face again, your fingertips gingerly touching his cheek. He didn’t pull away, determined not to make the same mistake twice. A smile involuntarily spread across your face at the acceptance of your touch, your hand shifting just slightly so that you could better cup his cheek, your thumb lightly grazing his cheekbone. Your touch ghosted over the bruises blooming over his skin.

You were about to ask him if he was sure that he was alright when he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was a split second, over just as soon as it started as he pulled away, trying to gauge just how big of a mistake he’d just made. His eyes searched yours, heart pounding in his chest. You beamed at him for a moment before bringing his lips back to yours, kissing him with purpose, feeling the way that he was instantly trying to meld himself into you.

As the days and weeks ticked by after that, it was as though the two of you started to forget that your apartment had two bedrooms. Most of the time Bucky stayed with you in yours, but every now and then you’d find yourself tucked safely under Bucky’s comforter and in his arms in his room too. There was never a conversation about it, and in the back of your mind you knew that maybe there should’ve been. But it was working so well, the last thing you wanted to do was complicate it, potentially ruining something that was so precariously created between you.

And now here you were, pacing the expanse of your apartment’s living room, waiting for some sort of confirmation from Bucky that he was back home and in one piece. You were used to him going silent, but you usually heard from him before anything about his work hit the news. The fact that the television going in the background had running coverage saying that there had been another successful mission, saying there were more details to come even though there never were, had you on-edge when your phone refused to chime with a message from Bucky.

You spent a few more minutes waiting, pacing, before finally deciding that fuck it, you might as well show up and hope for the best. So you grabbed your keys and took off out of the apartment, making sure that you locked it up on the way out.

You found yourself standing in the lobby of the building, helpless to do anything but stare and gawk at everything around you. You’d never been to their base in Brooklyn—never had a reason to when Bucky lived with you. You didn’t even know where to start.

Luckily, you didn’t have to stand there overwhelmed on your own for too long. You turned your head towards the sound of someone clearing their throat. You knew who he was, because Sam Wilson’s face was everywhere these days, but he had no idea who you were. You would’ve assumed that even if he didn’t have a mildly confused look on his face.

“Something I can help you with?” his tone was cautious.

Clearing your throat, you nodded. “Yea. God, I’m, I’m sorry. I know I probably shouldn’t just,” you fumbled, trying to get your sentences together, “I just, shit. I’m looking for Bucky?”

The confusion on his face intensified. “Bucky?”

“Yea, I’m—”

Whatever the conversation was about to be between you was cut short by the sound of Bucky saying your name. He sounded just as confused as Sam had, only Bucky had a thick layer of annoyance layered on top of the confusion.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, brows knit tightly.

“I just got worried when I saw the news but I didn’t hear anything from you. I thought you—”

“You can’t just come down here,” he cut you off, and for a moment your mind flashed back to how the two of you were months and months ago now. It stung more than you’d bargained for.

“I waited but then I got worried, alright? That’s not, you know, that’s not ridiculous of me. You always tell me when you get back.”

“Sorry,” Sam was looking back and forth between the two of you before his gaze finally landed on Bucky, “but who’s this?”

You both answered simultaneously, but the problem was your answers weren’t the same.

“His girlfriend.”

“My roommate.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as he looked back and forth between you. You felt like someone had let all the air out of your lungs, like you were about to deflate and crumple right onto the tiles beneath your feet. Bucky’s annoyance faded only slightly when he registered the words you’d said, but he was still too off-kilter and confused about the entire thing to say or do anything.

“Right,” Sam said, clearly a little uncomfortable. He turned to you. “Well, it was nice meeting you. I’ll leave you two to…this.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the sting of tears in your eyes, the smoldering anger you could feel in the pit of your chest. You made sure not to take it out on Sam. “I’ll leave. I’m sure you have important things to take care of. It was really nice meeting you, Sam.” You turned your head to look at Bucky. “Guess I’ll see you at home, roomie.”

Bucky only got half your name out before you turned on your heel and started to take off for the door. He sighed, chin dropping to his chest. Finally picking his head back up, he looked over at Sam, who was just shaking his head at him.

“What?” Bucky snapped.

“You messed up,” Sam said with a laugh, clearly not feeling any pity for the man standing with him.

“Helpful. Thanks.”

Sam shook his head. “She was just worried about you, man.”

Bucky sighed, not wanting to get into all of it. Nodding towards the elevator he said, “Can we just wrap this up?”

Sam chuckled, getting more amusement out of Bucky’s situation than he should’ve. The damage done wasn’t irreparable, which was the only reason he found any humor in it. “Sure.”

When Bucky got back to the apartment later that night, he opened the door to find all of the lights off. He let out a deep sigh as he stepped inside. He dropped his bags just inside the door, untying his boots and leaving them there as well. He maneuvered through the apartment in the dark until he landed himself outside your bedroom door. He saw the thin strip of light coming out from underneath it, so he knew that you were home and most likely still awake.

Taking a deep breath, he gave your door a couple light knocks as he said your name. When he didn’t get a response, he rested his forehead against the wood paneling of the door. “Please let me in.”

After a few long seconds of silence, you said, “It’s open.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief as he turned the doorknob and let himself in. Once he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him again, like it was an extra layer of privacy in your already empty apartment. He leaned back against the door, giving you some space as he watched you purposely not look up from your laptop.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, resting the back of his head against the door.

You shrugged, fingers flying across the keyboard, still not looking up at him. “Is there something you think we need to talk about?”

He knew that he deserved some of the attitude. It was only fair. Letting out a sigh, he pushed off the door and walked over so that he could sit on the edge of your bed. “I didn’t expect you to show up like that. It caught me off-guard.”

You finally looked up at him, anger in your eyes but sadness too. “What would you like me to do instead next time I think you’re in a hospital or dead somewhere, Bucky?”

He tucked his chin towards his chest for a moment. “Things just got hectic. I didn’t have time—”

“I get it,” you said, and honestly you did. But it did nothing to mitigate your worry. “But do you get where I’m coming from? I,” you shook your head, “I count on you to tell me you’re alright because no one else will. Your team doesn’t know me. I’m not gonna get a phone call or a visit from someone who works for you guys. I’m just your fucking roommate so—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, resting his hand on your arm as he did, “stop.”

You leaned back against your headboard. “Your words, not mine.”

He frowned as he nodded. “I know.”

“That was shitty.”

He nodded again. “I know.”

You sighed, finally setting your laptop off to the side. “I know that we never really talked about everything with us, and that’s, you know, that’s on me too.” You paused, waiting for him to look you in the eyes. “But do you really just think of me as your—”

“No,” his voice was as genuine as it’d ever been. “I just, I froze up. I wasn’t expecting to see you there, wasn’t expecting Sam to—” he huffed, stopping himself short as he shook his head. “You’re not just my roommate.”

A weak smile crossed your lips. “Good.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he confessed.

You shook your head. “I don’t wanna lose you either.” You let out a soft laugh. “Which is why you gotta let me know you’re okay when you get home.”

He smiled, nodding. “That’s fair.”

Letting out a deep breath, your body relaxing a bit for the first time all night, you took his hands in yours and pulled him into you. “Come here.” You draped your arms around his neck in a hug, feeling the way his arms wound around your waist.

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m sorry.”

You let your head rest in the crook of his neck for a moment before pulling away so you could get a good look at his face. You gently cupped his cheek. “It’s okay.”

He let his forehead drop to rest against yours. “We okay?”

“Depends,” you said, a little bit of laughter in your voice. “If I’m not just your roommate, does that mean I’m your girlfriend?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Yea, it means your my girlfriend.”

You beamed, leaning in to kiss him. “Good.” Pulling away from him, you swung your legs over the edge of your bed, standing up and holding your hand out for him to join you. “Come on.” You saw the confusion on his face as he put his hand in yours and elaborated. “There is still plenty of time for our homecoming snack.”

The cheque in your hand has far too many digits in it — you’ve never seen two commas in the number, made out to you of all people. Hell, you wouldn’t have cared what the hell the job was, you would’ve said yes anyway.

You just never imagined that trying to pick up Tony Stark on Park Avenue would be a job interview.

“Name your price,” he had said.

You probably would’ve slept with him for zero, but when you had jokingly said a million dollars, you never thought he’d actually follow through. First came the NDA, then the contract and benefits package, and now…

Now, you stood outside a dull-looking door trying to calm yourself down about the fact that you were about to whore yourself out to an Avenger.

Enclosed for your review is a copy of your job description, benefits package, and the corresponding appendices. Should you wish to accept this offer, your contract and a questionnaire are emailed for your review and return. Upon receiving your executed contract and completed questionnaire, should your answers be compatible, we will reach out to schedule your start date.

Well, the contract said Personal Care Attendant and technically, the Winter Soldier wasn’t on the active roster. Yet. But the point still stands. He more or less owned you now.

You take one last deep breath before knocking on the door.

The man that opens it is not the man from the online articles and archives. He isn’t long-haired, dead-eyed and clad in murder gear (because there really wasn’t any other word for it). No, the person that stands in front of you is seemingly flawless, the sunlight from his windows surrounding him in a glowing warmth.

He quite literally takes your breath away.

“Can I help you?” He finally asks, shifting his weight ever so slightly.

Right. You clear your throat, offering your hand as you introduce yourself.

He studies you intently, his eyes obviously tracking you from head to toe, but doesn’t say anything else as he shakes your hand firmly. “Bucky,” he responds in kind.

“I’m, um, I’m here because…” Oh god, what if he had no idea?

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“I’m here as a… As your personal care attendant?” As soon as you say the words, you feel silly. Your cheeks start to flush, but it’s nothing compared to what he says next.

“Then you’re late, kitten.”

(4) Your duties will include, but are not limited to (a)Providing thorough, attentive care to the client within reasonable allowance, even outside of those covered in (5). (b)Receive and follow instruction from the client within reasonable allowance, even outside of those covered in (6) (c)Commence reasonable care should the client require it at your discretion, without infringement of (8)(a), (b) or (c) (4)(c)(i)The term “care” will include, but is not limited to… (ii)Psychological care as set out in Appendix I (iii)Domestic care as set out in Appendix I (iv)Physical care as set out in Appendix I, II and III

It was very evident that he wasn’t expecting you to take care of him so much as take care of him. His apartment was spotless, though the lack of furniture and possessions might be the biggest reason.

“So. You know what this entails.” It comes like more of a statement than a question, but admittedly, that does a lot for you. You looked at him, cross-armed and leaning against the back of his couch. Tugging at the bottom of your dress, you tried to remember how to simply act normal and nod, a little less shy, slipping into your role with a little more ease.

“Yes, sir.”

There’s a look of amusement on his face, so you make a note of that.

“Hard limits?”

“None,” you answer quickly.

“I find that hard to believe,” he fires back. “Everyone has limits.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking about his, though he reads your expression well enough.

“I have too many to list,” he says. “Which is why I prefer to just control the situation.”

God help me. It sounded too good to be true, that maybe — just maybe — he was made for you.

Or you were made for him, at least. His pleasure.

“That sounds good to me,” you say all too brightly. “Sir.”

He smirks at that, and you’re absolutely done for.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that,” he tells you, beckoning you to follow him. “Though I do like it.”

You decided right then and there that you would do pretty much anything with him. For him.

“So, about those limits —”

“Knife Play,” you blurt out once you reach his bedroom. “That’s — that’s the only one I don’t think I can do.”

He turns and gives you a look. “Why, because I’m the Winter Soldier, you think I’m automatically into knife play?”

“OH MY GOD!” You exclaim, slapping your hands over your mouth at your blunder. “No! No, oh my god, that’s not what I meant!”

You’re about to grovel at his feet when he starts to chuckle softly.

“Relax,” he says easily, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “That’s fine. I’m not gonna throw you into the fire just yet.”

Yet. You’re not sure if that was meant as a threat but it sounds more like a promise if you’re being honest.

“I can handle more than you think,” you say, pursing your lips.

“S’that right?”

The challenge in his voice has you nearly quivering and you’ve barely even started. You give him a little shrug before nodding, trying to give as good as you got.

“C’mere here,” he coaxes softly, hand outstretched. It’s stunning, the black and gold, intricate and precise — more sophisticated than anything you’ve ever seen.

You take it and ease yourself down on his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hands far gentler on your waist than you thought they could be. The blue of his eyes is even brighter this close up, light with mischief and wide with wonder as he looks at you, like you were something to be discovered, explored.

“Safe word still pineapple?”

Looks like he read your questionnaire after all. You nod again, the energy thrumming just under your skin as his hands slowly travel up your sides and back before ending up at your neck. He can probably feel your small shudder or your thundering pulse. At the very least, he can certainly see the goosebumps forming under his fingertips.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

With that, he claims your lips, your body, your very existence as if it was his only goal. And god, does it work.

There is no part of you that doesn’t immediately belong to Bucky at that moment. His tongue parts your lips and moves confidently as he devours you, taking you apart. Each swipe of his tongue is firm and purposeful — designed to steal your breath away as his hands map out your body.

You can’t stop the gasp that escapes against his lips or the way your body tenses in his arms, muscles coiled to try and stop yourself from just dripping all over his lap.

It takes you far too long to realize the game you’re playing — well, that Bucky’s playing. You’re simply along for the ride as he catalogs all your reactions from each shiver of your body to every moan and shaky breath you let out. Within a few minutes, you’ve already revealed all your cards without even knowing that’s what you’re doing.

You’re embarrassingly short of breath when he pulls back to survey you.

“You make such beautiful sounds,” he says, nonchalant as if your heart rate wasn’t skyrocketing.

“You’re a damned good kisser,” you respond/

He gives you a cheeky grin that would’ve made your knees buckle if you weren’t seated on him. “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.”

You run your hands up his chest, marveling at how firm it was. For a brief moment, you forget who he is and just touch. As your fingertips roam upward, you memorize the arch of his clavicle that leads to the dip in the hollow of his throat underneath his Adam’s apple.

You shift slightly, getting ready to slide off and sink to your knees to service him.

“Like what you see?” He asks — except this time the cocky tone has a softness to it that you're not sure he even caught. As if there was just a bit of something behind that seemingly unshakable confidence.

“Yes,” you answer simply with a smile. “I really, really do.” It’s true, after all. He wasn’t just handsome, wasn’t just pretty, there was something about him that was so alluring, you found yourself forgetting your contract almost entirely.

It’s the right answer, apparently, because he flips over to lay you down in the center of his bed, throwing your plans to kneel for him right out the window.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of just how much bigger he is than you. He’s an imposing figure, there’s no arguing that, but when he had first invited you inside, it hadn’t been your focus. Now, with the cool, soft sheets at your back and his thighs settling between yours, you feel like trapped prey to the king of the jungle.

You knew that a serum pumped through his veins that made him infinitely stronger, but your history books always said that the serum wasn’t like Captain America’s. It didn’t shoot him up nearly a foot and slap on nearly 150 pounds.

No, these are all muscles that he had to work for and train for, that he has to maintain. The very same muscles that pressed against the inside of your thighs as he settled in above you, dwarfing you.

“Okay?”

It catches you by surprise. Really, you were his property, he owned you, and could do whatever he pleased with you. That’s what you had signed up for. Ever since signing all those papers, you had braced yourself for the worst of it — after all, you’d come across plenty of people who only ever wanted to assert their power over you because of what you were and what you did.

So this? The pause, the way his eyes search yours for a truthful answer, the way he asks so tenderly? All unexpected when what you thought you would receive was something harsh, sharp, and as cold as his moniker suggests.

From here, looking up at him, though? He looks like an angel. The overhead light isn’t too bright ad the soft, warm halo of light makes him ethereal — all smooth skin and eyes like the sky.

“Very okay,” you reply, your cheeks unusually warm. You don’t get flustered anymore — or so you thought. Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you urge him closer, eager to kiss him again.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs as he closes in. This time, he kisses down your neck instead. His teeth softly graze against your skin every now and then as he makes his way to the centre of your chest.

That’s my girl. You don’t know if that’s just his sweet talk or if he’s finally asserting his ownership of you. Either way, it gets you all worked up, especially when his hands join his mouth in their exploration of your body, gentle but firm as he gropes at you.

By the time he reaches the hem of your dress, every inch of you is covered in goosebumps.

Expecting him to rip it off, your breath catches when he simply sits back on his haunches and runs his hands up your thighs. They disappear from sight under your dress but you can certainly feel their presence, skin hot and metal slightly cooler.

Your legs spread for him so easily it’s almost laughable.

(10) You are expected to carry out your duties with discretion, professionalism and a high level of enthusiasm. Criticism will not be tolerated.

“Pretty girl, are you already drippin’ wet for me, hm?”

You’re almost afraid to speak, knowing full well that a bunch of embarrassing noises are pent up inside you right now. Where you wish Bucky was right now.

You take a deep breath in. “Yes, sir.”

He gives you a look — a fond one that most people give their pets — and it inexplicably makes your heart race.

“You don’t mind if I have a little taste now, do you?” He asks, fingers already curling around your panties and tugging them down.

“Please,” you let slip, waiting for him to lower himself to the mattress.

Instead, you yelp when he suddenly hauls your lower half up by the hips. You figure you must look like quite the sight, tits jiggling with the movement as you find yourself nearly suspended with your legs slung over his shoulders.

You don’t even get the chance to speak before he lowers his mouth and makes your entire body come alive for the first time in ages.

“Oh!” You cry out, hands gripping the first thing they can find: his thighs.

He chuckles against your cunt, tickling you in the most intimate sense while your fingers dig into hard muscle.

Your legs automatically tense up, ankles loosely locking behind his back as he keeps working your cunt, tongue gliding up and down your folds easily. His tongue is a wicked thing, a sin all on its own, as it draws the most guttural sound out of you

Seemingly satisfied that you’re secured, he runs his hands up your thighs and slips behind to knead your ass, large hands cupping you perfectly.

“Bu…”

You lose your train of thought when he slips his thumb inside of you, tongue following closely, fucking in and out shallowly. “Oh god, fuck, fuck!”

“Sweet as honey, baby,” he purrs, licking a long stripe up to your clit and sealing his lips around it. His other arm wraps around your hips to support you through the involuntary spasms that wrack your body as he circles his tongue around you, torturously slow to draw every last breath out from your lungs.

“W-wait,” you pant out, flushed and warm all over. “This should - it’s about you —

The corners of his eyes wrinkle slightly as he smiles deviously, the coarse hairs of his scruff tickling you.. “Oh, it is, honey. I'm enjoying myself just fine.”

To prove his point, he presses his hips forward and along your back you feel a faint, long, thick heat.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, imagination already running wild with how good that’s going to feel inside you.

“Gettin’ there,” Bucky quips, returning to his task.

He’s diligent about switching between suckling you and curling that sinful tongue of his, flicking it over your clit just firm enough, just slow enough, that every drag feels like it’s breaking you open.

You feel yourself unraveling, like a runaway spool of thread and you desperately trying to hold on, hands clamoring for purchase as your body comes undone.

“Bucky!” You cry out, hands grabbing onto the arm wrapped around your waist. You’ve never whined the way you do right now, trembling in Bucky’s hold as he slows his movements, giving you just a moment of reprieve.

The look in Bucky’s eyes is predatory as he waits for you to regain your breath before giving you a final, harsh suck, teeth grazing over the sensitive nerves that nearly makes you come again just from that.

He finally lowers you to the mattress — a trembling, flushed mess — before undressing himself. It’s almost clinical, without fanfare, and that just doesn’t seem right to you when he’s unrevealing such beauty. As he strips, revealing all that gorgeous, smooth skin, you try to sit up even if you felt like your entire body was jello. You just wanted to reach out, to touch, and you were so enraptured by him, by his body, that when your eyes finally roamed south you gasped.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out. You think back to when Bucky originally asked you “like what you see?” not realizing just how much you would.

Your hand has never looked smaller than it does right now, wrapped around Bucky’s monstrous cock, hot and heavy against your palm. Subconsciously, you lick your lips as you watch precome starting to bead at his swollen tip.

You keep your grip firm as you give him a full stroke and your eyes drink in the sight before you — Bucky’s face, lax with pleasure, and the minute twitches of his muscles at your simple touch. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been intimate with someone — if that’s why you were offered so much money to be for his personal, constant use.

“Your cock is gorgeous,” you tell him, hand getting used to the weight and length of it. “Want this inside of me, right now.”

Bucky’s face morphs into something even hungrier. He lowers his hips, cock nearly scalding against you. For the first time, his voice sounds less than perfectly in control. “I can’t catch or carry anything.”

You already knew that from the massive package of paperwork.

“And I can’t get you pregnant.”

You knew that, too, but again he sounds so clinical about it, you wonder if it bothers him at all.

“Yeah, handsome,” you nod, smiling dopily. “Rawdog me.”

Bucky makes a sound like a cut-off laugh, and you can’t help but feel victorious when a smile breaks out on his face.

“You’re somethin’ else, sugar.”

There’s a shift in the air, the both of you settling into each other like you’re not two absolute strangers as he presses his body to yours, cock sliding over your tender clit and across the slick of your folds.

You wrap your legs around him and dig your heels into his back as if to say c’mon, c’mon! Hurry up!

You thought you were ready. You’ve never had this issue before. But as Bucky starts to nudge the head of his cock in, you inhale sharply, your body immediately tensing to reject the intrusion.

He pauses to pull back and look at you.

“Sorry,” you say in a hurry, nervous and embarrassed by your reaction. You bring your hands to the side of his face trying to show him that it’s nothing he’s done. “You… You’re just, um…”

His eyes narrow slightly, eyebrow furrowing as he goes to pull away.

“Wait!” You keep your legs firmly wrapped around him, trying to trap him even though you were no match for his strength. “It’s not you. Well, sort of. It’s just that… You’re fucking huge, Bucky. I’ve never…”

His eyes widen in surprise, evidently not expecting your answer though you don’t miss the way his cock twitches between your legs. Then his look softens and he kisses you sweetly — more tender than anyone’s ever kissed you before.

“Roll over for me,” he commands gently.

As you do so, you watch him open the nightstand and to your relief, pulls out a bottle of lube. Natural instincts take over at that point — you prop yourself up on your knees, spreading them until you’re comfortable, and keep your chest to bed, arching your back.

He makes a pleased sound behind you. “Lookit you, babydoll. Bent over and spread open for me like a good girl.”

Your toes curl slightly at his words and your whole body tightens when you feel his fingers slip into you, the lube cool against your heated cunt.

“Relax, princess,” he coos, his other hand trailing down your spine. “Be a good kitten and just let me open you up, alright?”

You’ve lost the ability to form words so you nod against the sheets instead as you will your body to relax. Soon, you forget about your mission to take Bucky’s giant cock and start to lose yourself to the feeling of Bucky's fingers inside you. They’re just as talented as his tongue, expertly navigating all your sweet spots, some of which you didn’t even know you had.

“God, you feel you so good,” you groan, fingers curling in the sheets, clinging on for dear life.

“Oh, we’re jus’ getting started, baby.” His other hand returns to your near-overworked clit and you’re dangerously close to coming again.

You turn to look over your shoulder, intending to stop him. Instead, you jolt as he gives your cheek a lovebite, beard scratching against your ass while he curls his fingers inside you and pulls the orgasm from you. Your back arches as you scream out at the unexpected whirlwind of pleasure that travels through every vein of your body.

“Shhh, sh, you’re alright, sweet thing.” His voice is low and soothing.

You want to tell him that you’re more than alright, that you’ve never been pulled apart like this, that you’ve never come just from someone’s fingers, that you’ve never seen such a fat cock in your life. But all you can do is nod frantically, panting as your body comes down from the high.

“Think you’re ready, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. You let out a breathy moan as you reach back blindly for him. “Yes, Bucky, yeah. Gimme that perfect cock of yours.”

While you can’t see his expression, you hear a soft huff from him before the head of his cock is at your eager hole again. You feel him give himself a few pumps, slicking himself up with more lube, taking the time and care not to hurt you.

This time, you’re ready for it. As he enters, you exhale, your muscles loosening to let him in.

More than just let him in — welcome him, pull him in, making yourself the perfect fucking home for his cock.

“Goddamnit, sweets,” he murmurs, lowering his chest to your back, the cold metal of his dog tags on your spine. “Y’feel like a dream.”

“You’re one to talk,” you manage to gasp out, eyes scrunched as all of your attention is focused on the delicious stretch.

He brushes your hair to one side and for a moment, all you do is look at each other in the moment.

You reach out to trail your fingers along his wrist and he goes to press a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“M’gonna move, ‘kay?”

In lieu of a response, you clench down on him and grin when he hisses at the sensation.

“Watch it…” The low rumble of his voice only spurs you on, so you do it again, this time wriggling underneath him.

“C’mon, Bucky, please won’t you fuck me?” You taunt, your voice coy. “Put that fat cock of yours to use, huh?”

There are no words this time, only a soft clicking as you watch in fascination while his arm calibrates ever so slightly. You think you hear him mutter “you asked for it” but you can’t be sure because your own cries fill the room as he pulls back a few inches and thrusts back into you.

“This what you wanted?” Bucky growls before he gives your ass a light swat.

“More,” you beg him, despite the twinge of pain as your body tries to adjust and accommodate Bucky’s girth.

Bucky must read it as a challenge because he doesn’t go easy on you — after a few long, controlled thrusts, he must deem you ready.

You’re not sure anyone could quite be ready for the ravaging storm that is Bucky.

He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to fuck anyone — determination and desperation wrapped up in superhuman stamina and strength. Without a doubt, you know you’re going to walk away with bruises — on your hips from where he grabs you, your thighs and ass from where he slams into you.

“Sh-shit,” you curse, panting into the sheets that you’ve bunched in your fists. Your hair sticks to your neck with the sweat building as your body tries to keep up with the assault. “So fucking - good, Bucky. Your cock feels so good — splitting me in half.”

Bucky makes an animalistic noise in his throat, yanking your hips back to him as he plants his hand beside your head, arm anchoring you in place.

Oh, fuck. As anticipated, he rails you within an inch of your life — you’re struggling to breath, heaving for air, and your eyes are scrunched shut to stop the tears from actually spilling.

“Okay there, sweetheart?”

Fuck him for not even sounding out of air. “Ssso goo-ood,” you slur, a litany of gasps and moans follow. “Love — that you’re — tearing me apart.”

Bucky’s voice is positively gleeful. “Yeah? You like getting fucked so hard you can’t even keep your eyes open?”

You make a conscious effort to crack an eye open and fire back. “Yeah. Fuck, you’re so deep I can feel you in my throat.”

“That can be arranged, honey,” he teases, hauling your hips up for an excruciating angle that makes you come so hard your vision turns white.

“Fucking gorgeous when you come,” he praises and you can’t formulate the words to reply.

“Ah, ah, nnngh, ah, f-fuck,” you babble, vision blurry as you tear up. It hurts but it’s beautiful, it’s brutal but controlled. It’s fucking perfect. You’d tell him just that, if had any air left in your lungs.

The last thing you hear is Bucky’s voice shushing you and telling you to rest before it all turns black.

This kiss was different from the other ones you’d shared with the mob boss. Previously, he’d been in control, even if gently, but it had never been a question. However, with this kiss, while he wasn’t submitting to you, he was happy to let you take the lead. Happy to let you use him to let out your swirling emotions.

You stood up, pulling him with you, the kiss never breaking. You devoured him and he did the same in return, heat building between you. You pulled your hands from his, one going to his hair, the other to his tie and you moved again, backing up until you were stopped by the wall of his office. The coolness of it made your heated body shiver against his, but still you continued to kiss him, no mere hunger driving you on, but an absolute greed for all you could take from him.

Bucky  smiled against your lips, and his hands started to wander, pushing up under your sweater to land on your hips, half over denim, half on your bare flesh. You pulled him to you, moulding your bodies together. You were engulfed by the kiss, by the passion that was gaining momentum at an alarming pace.

You were letting out breathy sighs and your hips were rolling of their own accord, rubbing over the prominent bulge distorting the fabric of Bucky’s suit. Bucky moved his right hand, deftly popping the button on the front of your jeans, and without preamble, sliding his fingers under the stiff fabric, under your panties and into your slick folds. 

With unerring precision he found your clit and you pulled your lips from his with an impassioned cry, your head resting against the wall behind you. Bucky’s lips trailed down your neck, much as they had when he’d woken you earlier on, providing two points of pleasure on your body. 

It felt so good.

Your breath came in strangled gasps, your eyes rolling back in your head as he brought you steadily towards orgasm. Everything was hazy, but amongst it all you heard Bucky’s deep voice, muttering in Russian as you trembled against him. You didn’t know exactly what he was saying, but you got the gist of it - praise and dirty talk. 

When his fingers slipped lower, pressing inside your wet heat, you keened. His thumb took over stimulating your clit as his fingers pumped and he raised his other hand to tenderly caress your cheek.

“That’s it, Pchelka. Let it out. Turn that hurt into something beautiful. Ya khochu uvidet’ eto. Show me, milyy. Show me how you look.”

Tears ran down your face and you didn’t know if you were crying out in pleasure or anguish, but at this moment it was one and the same.

Then you came.

“Bucky! BuckyBuckyBuckyBucky…” His name was like a prayer on your lips as the ecstasy washed over your body.

“Moya krasavitsa. Moya pchelka.”

He finally kissed you again, and you fell into him, your body boneless and spent. You registered the fact that he put your panties and jeans to rights, and then, unexpectedly he swept you up in his arms, moving back to the armchair and sitting down with you in his lap. His kisses continued, becoming gentler and slower until finally they stopped, and you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

However, it was hard to ignore how aroused Bucky was when his erection was pressing into the backs of your thighs, and you felt a flash of guilt. You tried to slip from his lap, intent on returning the pleasure he’d given you, but his arms just tightened around your waist as you tried to move, ensuring you stayed exactly where you were.

“No, milyy. Not yet. That was just for you, because it’s what you needed. You don’t owe me anything. Just relax. Having you here with me is all I need. In a few days everything will be in place. There’s nothing for you to do except enjoy yourself.”

You had to admit, it was nice to be feted and coddled, and have pleasure centred solely on you.

You could get used to this.

For the next few days you were like a lady of leisure. Each morning, Bucky knocked on your door - the main one, not the connecting one - at 8.30am, inviting you to join him for breakfast. An hour later he’d give you a soft, lingering kiss before heading off to his office, leaving you to entertain yourself. 

One of his men, a tall, snarky guy called Sam, had been tasked with showing you around the house, pointing out the library, the home gym, cinema room and the way out to the hot tub and pool.

You made good use of each, taking the chance to relax more than you had in years - it was just like having a holiday.

But between all the lounging, the reading and the miles pounded on the treadmill was Bucky.

Sometimes you’d look up to find he’d left his office just to watch you. On some of these occasions, when you caught his eye, he’d join you for lunch, but on others he’d just smile, chewing on that damn toothpick, and then saunter back the way he’d come.

And then there were the moments where he’d do neither of those things. Where he’d come close, watching you with an intensity that made you shiver. Where he’d slide a hand up to cup your face and kiss you with a gentle ferocity, backing you up against the closest firm surface. Where he’d make you dizzy with his touch until you were clinging on to him, mewling and needy. 

He made no move to get you off and didn’t invite any similar touch from you. And you knew, as if there were some unspoken agreement between you, that you wouldn’t touch yourself in the privacy of your own room. 

Not yet.

This went on for four days, until, on the morning of the fifth day, as you pushed away your plate after finishing another astounding breakfast, Bucky didn’t bid you good day, but instead invited you to join him in his office.

With you settled in the armchair once more he took up what you’d come to think of as his usual position, perched against the edge of his desk.

“It is time, Pchelka. The internal investigation into your disappearance  from the gala has been concluded. They’re certain that I killed you after I took you. Not surprising when they found a car that could be almost traced to me, burned out with a woman’s body inside.”

He saw your expression change to one of worried shock, but he was quick to placate you.

“Don’t worry. No-one was hurt. It was an unknown cadaver, appropriated to put this plan into action.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding and gave him a weak smile, encouraging him to continue.

“Of course, Walker bears no blame for the failure of the mission -  that has been placed solely at your feet, just as he planned. However, I don’t imagine it would look good for him if you were to suddenly turn up at the office, alive and well, with evidence of his disloyalty in your hands.”

Your smile broadened at that, the mental images of strutting in, as if from the dead, and then destroying the asshat who hadn’t cared what his machinations did to you, exciting you beyond what you’d thought you were capable of.

Had you always had this streak of darkness in you? Or had it been sown by John and his schemes, only to be further nurtured by the man in front of you? Either way, you could almost taste the sweetness of revenge.

You stood up, taking two steps forward to press yourself against Bucky, winding your arms around his neck and rubbing your nose against his.

“When do we begin?”

Bucky’s car pulled up just down the block from the office that had been your place of work for five years. You stared out of the window and felt just as nervous now as you had that first day. Then it had been because it was the start of a new chapter of your life. Now, you were closing that chapter and heading towards a new one. You supposed you were allowed to approach it with some trepidation - that was not only sensible, but also natural.

Bucky squeezed your hand, breaking you from your reverie and you turned toward him.

“You’ll be fine, lyubimaya. I’ll be right out here waiting for you.” He dropped a kiss on the corner of your mouth and you squeezed his hand back. He was right. You could do this.

You got out of the car, and with your new Louboutin heels clicking along the sidewalk, you made your way to the doors of your office.

As anticipated, your appearance at the security desk caused no small amount of consternation, given the fact that you were apparently dead. It took about five minutes for you to hear the booming voice of your section chief.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You gave him an enigmatic smile and stood up from the chair where you’d been waiting for him, smoothing out your skirt as you did.

“Good to see you too, Fury. Can we go upstairs?  I’m sure you’ve got some questions for me and I sure as hell have some answers for you.” 

The man ran his hand down his face. He’d seen a lot of things during his years, but this undoubtedly took the cake - you almost felt sorry for him, but this was the price he paid for not keeping his house in order.

You pretended not to see Fury’s raised eyebrow as you led the way to his office. You were done following. You also pretended not to see the shocked expressions, or hear the accompanying gasps from your former colleagues as they looked at you. The only person you met the eyes of was Walker.

He was standing next to his desk, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. You raised your hand, wiggling your fingers in a mocking wave, and couldn’t hold back your smirk when you took in his blanched face and the way that his coffee was now spilling out over the floor as he looked at you in disbelief.

You strode into Fury’s office, pulling the blinds shut before sitting down into the chair as the man himself shut the door, blocking out the rest of the office and the murmurs that were getting louder by the second.

“Where the fuck have you been, agent?”

You looked down at your polished nails. You couldn’t believe that Bucky had organised for a beautician to come in and do them for you.

“Recovering from my ordeal. I was set up.”

You returned your gaze to Fury’s and he raised an eyebrow at your statement.

“What do you mean?”

“My cover was blown before I even got to the gala. Barnes knew who and what I was the entire time.”

Before he could even question you, you pulled your phone from your purse, and pressed play on the recording that you’d downloaded to it. As he listened, Fury didn’t give away his thoughts, but you were prepared for a certain level of scepticism - you’d be suspicious in his place. Therefore, as the recording ended, before he could even open his mouth, you pulled out a flash drive and passed it to him.

“This has the original on. You can send it to the lab, check it, whatever.”

“You know that I’m gonna have to start another investigation into this matter, and until it’s concluded, you’ll be suspended?”

You placed your phone back in your purse and stood, smoothing your skirt once again.

“Don’t worry about that, Fury. I quit.”

He gaped like a fish but you spun on your heel and walked out of the office. You ignored his calls as they followed you through the office, but did waggle your fingers once again at Walker, who was now sitting at his desk, head in his hands.

When you exited the building your calm stride turned into a little skip, and you were beaming when you caught sight of Bucky leaning against his car, chewing on a toothpick. When he saw you, he flicked it away, smiled back and opened his arms.

You pressed right in, your head in the crook of his neck.

“I take it that it all went well, Pchelka?”

“It did. But all I want to do now is go home and start the rest of my life.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple, then tilted up your chin with his index finger, dropping a second kiss to your lips.

“You bitch!”

An angry shout assaulted your ears and you broke away from Bucky’s kiss to turn towards it. 

Walker stalked down the sidewalk, fists balled at his sides and face red with rage. Hoskins followed behind, looking more worried than angry. Bucky eased you away from him, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Let me handle this.”

He stepped forward, confidence and raw power showing in every move. You hadn’t had the chance to really observe him like this, and a shiver of desire flashed down your spine, lighting up your core.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”

“Keep your nose out of this, Barnes. My issue isn’t with you, at least not today. But she,” he jabbed his finger in your direction. “She’s ruined my career. I’m suspended. Without pay.” He looked around Bucky’s broad form to glare right at you, but you just smiled, coyly.

“Not bad for someone who should ‘stick to filing and looking cute’.” You smirked when you saw all the blood drain from Walker’s face for the second time in thirty minutes. You stepped up behind Bucky and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Shall we get going? I remember you saying something about spread open and needy.” Bucky turned his head and smiled, only for the pair of you to be interrupted again.

“Are you his slut now?” Walker didn’t know when to quit and you decided you had to put him in his place.

“No, you ass. I’m no-one’s slut. But I will tell you who I am. I’m his lover. His Queen. And you’d do well not to forget it.” Bucky reached past you, opening the door to the car. You slid in, your mob boss following you, and as soon as the door shut, the driver was pulling away, leaving Walker and Hoskins in the dust.

As you cuddled into Bucky’s side, you couldn’t believe that only a few days had passed since you’d first met him, and your memories came flooding back in, in Technicolor.

Chapter 4