#inthedark!challenge

Something that felt like guilt flooded your system as you hastily drank some of the water. ‘I’m so sorry Cap, I just can’t help it. It happens every time.’ 

‘Trust me, I know Doll, but there’s no need to stress we’ll be in and out real quick.’ Feeling slightly reassured by his words and accompanying smile he flashed in your direction,  you just focussed on drinking some more to help put you at ease as you watched the little red dot get closer and closer on the map, nearing your destination.

+

Steve landed the quinjet in a nearby clearing, just under a mile out from the building you were meant to search. Apparently someone had tried to hack into the Avengers computer files that morning from this place. Grabbing your gear you disembarked, switching on the heat sensor as you started trekking towards the building. 

‘Are you sure Tony said the source was coming from here?’ You asked Steve as you approached the worn down pillars where a gate would have once stood, the heat sensor in your hand still not showing anything. 

You thought it was kind of odd that Tony didn’t say anything directly to you, seeing as you had spent the morning cocooned in each other, but you just shrugged the thought away,  it had probably happened after he had left for Washington. 

‘Yeah he definitely said it was here. I know it doesn’t look like much but keep your guard up.’ Steve confirmed, passing through the gate and up the short driveway only pausing briefly to check that you were still with him before kicking the door open. 

Just like you had expected it was empty, not a soul in sight as you cleared floor after floor with Steve covering your six. You only stopped moving when you had reached the top floor which seemed to be some kind of bedroom.  

‘According to this the source came from here, have a look around, see if they left anything.’ You nodded, following Steve’s orders as he headed to the other side of the room searching for something. 

Sweat had started dripping down your forehead, your face was flushed as you made your way towards the adjacent bathroom. Whoever had been here before had clearly cranked the heat up, far too high. 

There was still no evidence that anyone else had even been there, and as you walked back to the bedroom to tell Steve you thought the mission was a bust, you found him sitting on the bedspread, unstrapping his shield from his large bicep before taking out his earpiece. 

‘Uh Cap, what are you doing? Shouldn’t we be focussing on the mission?’ You remained motionless in the doorway of the bathroom as he raised himself to his full height, his large, perfect body coming closer and closer to you with every stride. 

‘How are you feeling Doll?’ He asked, ignoring your confusion as he came within arm distance. ‘Not too hot?’ 

‘Well, I mean I feel a bit hot but I’m pretty sure it’s just nerves. Something about this doesn’t feel right though, I mean it’s obvious no one has been here for at least a week. I think we should leave.’

He let out a laugh at your reply, shaking his head. ‘But we can’t leave yet Doll, not when the fun is just about to start.’ The sinister look in Steve’s eyes held you fixed in place, terror slowly suffocating you. Something was definitely not right.

‘Steve what do you mean? What’s going on?’ 

He just smiled mockingly at you as you tried to pull your arm out of his unyielding grip. ‘Do you know how long this took to set up?’ He asked, running a hand through his golden locks.  Finding that stuff isn’t exactly easy you know? Most of it was incinerated when we raided all those Hydra bases last year but I finally got my hands on a small little sample. Had to call in a lot of favours but at last, here we are.’ 

You had no idea what on earth he was talking about but you were starting to become genuinely concerned about what was going on. 

‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted you for? How often I’ve thought about fucking your sweet wet cunt as I came in my hand. Even while I was with other women it was always you. You invaded my mind took a hold of me and I tried waiting, being a good guy, hoping that you would eventually notice how much better I am for you than he is. But you never fucking did and I’m done being patient.’ 

As Steve spoke you could feel yourself really starting to panic now, on the verge of hyperventilating as your skin continued to heat up, pain erupting in your abdomen. 

‘What are you doing Steve? What have you done to me?’ You managed to rasp out between deep breaths, the room swimming behind your eyes. 

Steve just laughed at your fear, stepping even closer as he wrapped an arm you. ‘I see it’s already starting to take effect. Come here and I’ll help you deal with the pain.’ 

You knew that you shouldn't but feeling his arm around you had alleviated some of the agnony so you stepped even closer, pushing you front against him. A moan escaped your lips as the relief came just from being so close to him but you wanted more. You wanted him, you thought with a start as you realised just how damp your panties were becoming underneath your combat suit. 

‘You want me don’t you? Don’t bother trying to deny it, I can smell it on you.’ Shame filled you as you knew he was telling the truth, what with his super senses there was no way he couldn’t smell the traces of your liquid arousal. 

But still you resisted, trying to twist out of his embrace, thinking of Tony, the love of your life. ‘No, Steve, we can’t. It’s not right.’ 

He paid your refusal no attention as his steel grip tightened even further, his fingers bruising your hips even through the padding of your combat suit. ‘Oh Sweetheart, it’ll be so much easier if you just stop resisting and accept it. This is going to happen whether or not you admit you want it.’ 

With that he started pulling the zip at your back down, forcing your arms out of the material until it was pooled at your waist, exposing the bra you wore underneath. It wasn’t anything special, just a basic black sports bra yet the way Steve was devouring it only added to the ache between your thighs as he pulled it up, over your head and pushed your suit down, stooping to free you from your boots. 

He paused, stepping back to observe you, standing in front of him, more perfect than he could ever have imagined. He could really smell your arousal now with just the scrap of lace covering your heat as he watched your pert nipples moving slightly as you breathed deeply. He wanted this image in his mind for all eternity, you desperate, yearning for him, for the relief only he could give you. Waiting had been worth it. 

Steve wasted no time in freeing himself from his restricting uniform as you stood there, your need clear in your eyes as you caught sight of his perfect chest and the sharp v that lead down to his little happy tail. You knew it was wrong, that you had a boyfriend but the voice telling you to lick that trail of hair was far too overpowering. You needed him. You needed him now.

Once he was out of his uniform he was on you, touching, feeling, kissing, every inch of skin that he could. His mouth met yours, teeth clashing in his desperation to taste you, shoving his tongue inside your lips as he lead you back towards the bed, shedding his boxers in the process and ripping the lace covering your modesty. 

You back bounced against the soft pillows at he threw you down, climbing on top of you as a hunter does their prey. Hip lips met your skin again, starting down at your ankles, making a tantalizing slow ascent up your leg as you writhed underneath him, pure unadulterated want flowing through your veins. 

When he finally reached his destination, your pussy was sopping with your juices, shining even in the dim light of the bedroom. ‘Steve please… I need you.’ You tangled your fingers in his hair, trying to push him down on your cunt but he pulled away, far stronger than you and smacking your inner thigh. 

‘Oh no Sweetheart, you don’t get to make the demands around here. And you will call me Captain.’ You clenched at the authoritative tone he used and he gave you no warning before pushing a finger in your tight wet heat while his mouth descended again, attaching itself to your clit. 

His fingers curled inside of you, providing some relief from the ache you had been feeling but not enough as he searched for your g-spot while his tongue flicked over your clit mercilessly. You wanted him, his cock buried inside of you. 

When you let out an inhumane moan he knew he had found it and being the perfect marksman, hit it with every thrust of his fingers, driving you closer and closer to the edge. ‘Captain, yes! Right there. Oh God Captain.’ You were a mewling mess as he pleased you, finally coming apart with one last flick of his tongue. 

He finished lapping up your juices and sat up on his haunches, teasingly raising his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on them as he watched you, coming down from your high. ‘Oh sweetheart, you’re just too tasty. I could eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My god, how Tony ever leaves your side I have no fucking idea. When you’re mine I’m going to chain you to my bed.’ 

He lent back down, his lips covering yours and you could taste the slight remnants of yourself on his lips. You felt him prod at your entrance as you raised your hips, coating him in your slik as he moaned above you before thrusting into you feeling a little resistance despite your desperation. He was much larger than Tony and oh god did it feel good.

He started thrusting, not quite giving you enough time to adjust but you liked the pain it caused. It grounded you, telling you that this was real and as wrong as you knew it was, it just felt so right. 

Once again finding your sweet spot, Steve started picking up his pace, his skin slapping yours as he delved deeper and deeper into you. ‘You feel so good, so tight baby, the way you take my cock; god it feels so good.’ 

He fucked you relentlessly into the mattress as your hands ran down his back, fingernails leaving little red scars as you clung to him, pulling his body closer chasing the new sensation building within yourself. 

The speed and strength at which he snapped his hips into yours had you turning into a mewling mess as he continued growling in your ear all the dirty things he wanted to do to you. 

‘Come on baby. I know your close, cum for your Captain.’ 

The friction of his pelvis against your clit had you coming undone underneath him, fingernails drawing blood as your cried out. ‘Captain yes oh god yes.’ 

Not even bothering to give you time to calm down, he pulled and flipped you around, forcing you onto your hands and knees as he rentered you, getting even deeper in this new position. His hands gripped your already bruising hips as he pummeled into you, abusing your hole as he saw fit. 

One hand escaped and trailed around your stomach to your clit, rubbing your over sensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers. ‘Tell me Sweetheart, does he fuck you like this? Does he know how badly you need to be controlled? How you crave it?’ 

You knew that you would be betraying Tony if you said no but it was the truth. He never fucked you like this, with such pure passion. You two always made love which was nice but sometimes you needed to be treated like a dirty little slut and Steve was showing you just how well he knew the real you, the version you kept hidden from everyone.

You felt his hand smack your ass, pushing you forward, your face shoved into the pillows. ‘You will answer when your Captain asks you a question.’ 

Shaking your head in a frenzy you replied that Tony didn’t, he never touched you like this. 

Steve was clearly happy at your confirmation and continued toying with your clit, pulling you closer and closer to the edge, his hips slightly stuttering and you knew he was as close as you were. 

As if sensing your impending release, he smacked you again, ‘you can’t cum. Not yet.’ 

A whimper fell through your lips at his denial of your pleasure, the wave slowly rising in you as you tried to hold back, tried to be a good girl, but it was becoming increasingly harder as he continued pumping into you, his fingers matching the pace his hips set. 

‘Please Captain, I n-need to cum. Please!’ You practically screamed as he shoved you down, lying you flat, the silk sheets replacing his hand at your clit. 

‘Okay baby, now. Cum now.’ His tone alone could have had you cumming and you could faintly feel his own release coating your insides as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. 

Remaining inside you, he gently rolled you over on your side, his arms wrapping around you, squeezing the buds of your nipples and you could feel as he started to get hard again. His tongue licked a path from your shoulder to the base of your ear, tasting the sweat that covered your skin, a sound of contentment escaping his lips. 

‘You’re my dirty little girl aren’t you?’

He didn’t even need to prompt you for a response as the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

Two gardens framed the entrance of the manor with lush green bushes, separating from the brick floor with walls of plants and trees. The manor stood threateningly above the entrance, with gray stone walls and long black windows like eyes staring at the night.

You had only spent two weeks there, and you already felt as if you hadn't talked to anyone in years. The cold rooms and the dark corridors of the Rogers Manor began to affect you from the moment you set foot inside it. It was as if it’s darkness and shadows swallowed your colorful dresses and the sound of your laughter.

Norine sat beside you looking at the window, reading a book or combing her hair, and you talked about trivial and banal things; she was your best and perhaps only friend in the world, but you didn’t dare look her in the eye, fearing that your gaze would betray how much it hurt to see her. She was good company, one of the only people in the manor that you could talk to, but even with her talking non stop from morning to night, you felt like loneliness sank deeper into your bones with each passing day.

Your fiancé didn't spend much time with you either, being honest. There was a time when it seemed that you couldn’t separate from him, when Steve dedicated his few but warm smiles only to you, and took you for walks in the city, staying close with one arm around your waist and soft kisses on the forehead . The memories of those afternoons together caused you emotions that you still couldn't understand, but those days were over.

One trip to Steve's cottage didn't seem like such a bad idea when you suggested it, and you were surprised when he agreed. Norine managed to convince you to invite her, and Steve didn't seem to object to your little companion. He told you that the house was large, with enough rooms for everyone to comfortably fit.

You didn't expect to find an emaciated manor instead of the elegant country house you had imagined, surrounded by thick forests and a blackened lake.

The main dining room is too big for just the three of you, so you share meals in a room relatively smaller than the main one. You and Norine are the main speakers at dinner conversations, with Steve nodding occasionally or making a small comment here and there. He has always been a man of few words, but since your engagement, it seems that conversation hasn’t been one of his greatest interests.

Norine gently wipes her lips with a napkin, her eyes green like the forest bouncing between you and your fiancé.

“Steven, would you mind showing us around the manor tomorrow? We have barely set foot outside the gardens in the two weeks we have been here.” Her voice was impressive, commander, in a way you always wanted to be yours but you have always known that you will never have.

Steve raised an eyebrow in her direction, pushing his empty plate away from the edge of the table. His eyes barely rest on you before he completely turns to Norine.

“You will have to forgive me, but a friend will come to visit me tomorrow morning. Another day, maybe.”

You looked up with interest. You had been stuck with the unstoppable Norine and the silent Steve for two weeks, and you were beginning to feel like the lush forests surrounding the manor were about to devour you if you couldn't find someone new to socialize with.

"Can we meet this friend of yours, or will you hide it from us too, hm?" Norine persisted in her attempts to include Steve in the conversation, and you tried to avoid the sour expression on your lips. His expression betrayed no emotion, as was common in him.

“James has a weakness for beautiful women, just as they seem to have a weakness for him. I may have to keep him away from you two.” His eyes sparked with something resembling malice, but it was gone before you could see it with certainty. "If I manage to keep him on a leash, I may let you caress him."

Norine laughed with delight, but your lips only curled in a small smile. “It will be a pleasure to meet your friend. He surely isn’t as bad as you want to make us believe.”

Steve's smile was small, almost invisible, but you knew where to look. It was genuine, and his eyes softened in a strange way when they met yours.

"You will decide that, my darling."

After the table was collected and the night had covered the manor with its cloak of darkness, you slipped into a thin, baggy nightgown, combing your hair between your fingers so that it didn’t become a complete disaster by the morning and you were presentable to the new guest. You peeked the reflection of the double bed behind you in the dressing table mirror, and wished that, even if it was only for that night, your bed wasn’t so empty.

The whisper of the wind moving the trees could be heard even with the windows closed, and you wondered if it might rain tonight. Probably not, with the moon shining splendidly in the chasm of the night sky and the light illuminating the glass of your window.

As bored as you were, you didn't go to bed immediately. You’ve always had a heavy dream, but sleeping in another bed that wasn’t yours always could take your best. You took a while on the dressing table, making sure your hair had no knots and that all the windows were tightly closed.

Norine slept in her own room at the end of the hall, and it had been a while since you had stopped listening to the characteristic sounds of a person awake, so going to chat with her in a pathetic attempt to soften your heart was out of the question.

Even with that in mind, the silence of the night was interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps echoing down the hall. Your heart jumped, and you clenched your hands in your lap, stealing a look at the wooden door behind you. You knew who was out there, and you couldn't take your eyes off the door with expectation as the steps got closer and closer to your room.

But then the steps went past your room, and your heart fell into your stomach. You were hoping that maybe that night, he would come to see you. You scolded yourself when you stood up and went to the door, knowing that you didn't want to see what was happening out there, but you did it anyway, because you've never been good at listening to your conscience.

You opened the door just enough to see through it, and the warm light of the lonely candle slipped into your gloomy room.

Steve opened the door to Norine's room cautiously, and she greeted him with a smile. Her reddish hair shone in the firelight and fell on her shoulders in long waves. Steve took a lock between his fingers, intentionally avoiding her gaze. You felt as if a wasp nest appeared in your stomach, and you forced yourself to close the door when Norine's also did it, locking herself up with your fiance for the rest of the night.

You leaned heavily against the closed door, feeling a knot of tears rise up your throat. Night after night during your entire stay at the Rogers manor, your fiance slipped into the room of your only friend in the world or she slipped into his. You had no idea when it started, but you felt so stupid for not realizing it before.

Would they ever tell you? Or did they plan to continue this affair even after the ink on your marriage certificate had dried? Norine was no longer pure enough for her suitors to keep fighting over her, but of course, she surely doesn't plan for anyone but Steve to know what's going on in that room. Not even you, obviously.

The murmur of the wind hit your window with a loud bang, and you jumped when the curtains rose with the breeze of the cold night.

You walked slowly to the open window with light steps, and held the wooden frame in your hands. You were sure you closed the window before changing. Maybe the lock was loose. The night wind stirred your hair and your nightgown, sticking it to your body and reminding you how thin it was. A chill went up your back when the cold made contact with your skin, so you moved closer to shut the window.

The trees moved as if they had a mind of their own, and the sounds of nocturnal animals waking up to hunt among the many plants in the garden reached your ears. The moon illuminated everything within reach, but you still couldn’t adapt your eyes to darkness.

The branches crashing against each other, the withered leaves falling to the ground, and owls singing lullabies formed a melody like no other, distorting sounds and adapting them to their pleasure. It was a slow, serene song, but it glided through the shadows like an arrow about to sink into a beating heart.

Y/N, the darkness hummed in a singing, cheerful voice, sharp as a butcher's knife. Y/N.

You closed the window with a dry thump and threw the curtains on them, leaving your bedroom in darkness. Your bed sank under your weight and you took refuge under the heavy sheets, ignoring what was around you.

You could only hear the sound of your heart and your breath, and you closed your eyes, hoping to forget the darkness that lurked in and out of the manor.

Norine was all smiles the next morning, pulling your arm to drag you into the garden in front of the stables. There were only two horses there, and they were the ones who had taken you to the manor from the city in the carriage. Being so far from civilization had been relieving at first, but now it only served to make you nervous.

"It seems as if you didn’t shut an eye all night, my dear." Norine sang next to you, sitting as she was on the blanket under the afternoon sun. You looked up from the book in your lap.

“The wind didn't let me sleep.” Neither you and my future husband, you want to add, even if you hadn't heard anything but Steve's soft steps when he returned to his own room early in the morning. "Maybe I should change rooms."

Norine pursed her freckled nose in an adorable grimace. You had never been envious of Norine's natural beauty, not until you discovered how Steve preferred her over you. Norine Pandy was beautiful, with her reddish brown hair and green eyes like the grass after rain. Her lips were soft and her cheeks round, and her dark eyelashes caressed the small freckles on her cheekbones with each blink.

She was beautiful in an artistic, passionate way. Norine has always reminded you of a burning flame fluttering in the wind, and everyone seemed to be drawn to her. You didn’t consider yourself ugly or unattractive. You had your fair amount of suitors before Steve, but you always felt like a shadow next to the bubbling Norine.

“But I like being close to you. So I can slide into your bed and hug you if I have nightmares during the night.” Her shoulder pushed yours, a smile adorning her lips. You return the gesture without even realizing it, pulling her hair playfully while the heat rises up your cheeks.

"Don't say things like that." You whisper, as if the flowers that caress your feet could tell your secrets to someone else. Norine takes a cake from the plate that rests between you and her, closing her lips around it in a smile.

“You are as sweet as sugar, my dearest Y/N. You should not change rooms. Moreover, we should share one! So our host will not be able to slip into your sheets and steal your virtue before the wedding night.”

Your smile breaks, but you keep it in place so as not to alarm it. For a very little moment, you forgot the burning pain of her betrayal and things went back to the way they were, as if she had never done what she did. As if you had never discovered it.

Norine can read you better than anyone, however, and her eyes soften when yours avoid her. “What's up with you lately, sunflower? It's as if an angel of sadness had kissed you until he stole your breath.”

You play with the book in your lap, suddenly anxious to return to your reading. Norine puts her delicate hand on yours and your fingers are forced to stop. You don't want to tell her what happens to you, you don't even want to look at her, but she seems to have other plans.

As if she could feel your denial, Norine let out a sigh, but didn't let go of your hand. “Okay, you don't have to tell me now. But you know I'm here for you always, right?”

The sound of voices and footsteps approaching echoed in the neglected gardens, and you and Norine turned around just in time to see a shadow disappearing inside the stable, closely followed by Steve, who gestured with his hand for you to come before following the other person inside.

Norine jumped to her feet, shaking the crumbs from the cakes she had devoured during your quick snack. They saved everything in a calm manner and she wrapped her arm with yours, sticking her hip to yours and starting to walk with a cheerful step.

"Do you think he's handsome, Steven's friend?" Norine whispered in your ear, as eager as you to meet someone from Steve's circle.

"I don’t know. I just hope he's kind.”

The barn was surprisingly well kept, considering it has been practically abandoned for so long, and the fresh air isn’t choking like in other parts of the manor. You decided that you liked this place immediately, because, unlike your room or the dining room, here you didn't feel as if the walls were going to fall on you.

Steve stroked the back of one of the horses when you approached him, resting a hand on his broad back. He turned to you and smiled, a gesture so unusual in him. You didn't have time to react before he pressed a warm kiss against your lips and slipped his hand down your back, pressing you against his side. The smile was still there when he separated his mouth from yours, but he didn't let go of his grip on you.

Your cheeks felt hot, and you stole a look at Norine who smiled blatantly at the unusual display of affection before Steve called your attention again.

"Y/N, this is my old friend, James Barnes." He gestured with his hand in front of him, pointing to the man you hadn't noticed so far.

James Barnes was leaning against a wall when Steve said his name, and his figure seemed to have merged with the few shadows of the stable. Your eyes ran down his broad shoulders covered by a black coat and his outlined jaw darkened by his beard. His eyes were blue like the sky, just like Steve's, but his hair was dark and long, barely brushing his shoulders.

He was handsome, much more than you had expected, and you rebuked yourself when an unexpected heat woke up in the pit of your stomach. What had come over you? Your fiance was standing right next to you and you still felt like the more you looked at James, the more you wanted to get close to him.

He stepped forward, his gloved hands in shiny black leather coming out of his pockets where he had them hidden. A sharp smile curved his pink lips slowly, and you felt a chill run down your back.

“You are much more beautiful than Steve here gives you credit, my lady.” His voice was thick, hoarse, like that of someone who doesn't speak very often but when he does, you listen. He took another step toward you, and you felt Steve's arm tightened at your waist, but you didn't look away from James for a single second.

The heat on your cheeks increased with every second you looked in his blue eyes. You forced yourself to look away, waiting for the gesture to be masked as shyness when you let out a little nervous giggle.

"And you are much more charming than my fiance told me, too." You smiled, daring to steal another look. His smile was still in place, but a spark appeared in his eyes in a blink. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you could have sworn that his gaze followed the movement of your lips.

Norine stepped forward, stopping by your side. James turned his attention to her, and you felt how the warmth of his gaze tickled your skin as soon as he left.

"Let me introduce you to Norine Pandy, a great friend of ours." You hurried to introduce her, remembering your manners at the last minute. Norine gave him her best smile, but the glare in James's eyes was gone.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet a friend of Steven. It seemed to me that we were the only ones with whom he deigned to share a cup of tea.” Norine set her charms on, and you realized a little too late that she had also looked James with other eyes. You stopped yourself from making a face. Doesn't she had enough with Steve?

If James noticed the subtle way in which Norine pulled her hair away and exposed her pale neck to his eyes, he gave no sign of it. Instead, his smile spread into a grin.

“Tea, you say? Interesting. You've always had a weakness for rum, Steven, not tea.” His voice was brazen, playful, in the tone of a friend who mocked another. The comment was merely harmless, but there was a hint of malice entwined somewhere under James's seductive smirk.

Steve had been silent throughout the exchange, and you were surprised to find his eyes fixed on you when you turned to look at him. A muscle bounced off his tight jaw, and his eyes had turned steel. His arm pulled you closer to him, and a tense smile crossed his lips as he turned to his old friend.

“You know my tastes are volatile, Buck. But I have to adapt to the married life.” He said, his voice low and serene when he said the nickname, in contrast to the tense bearing of his shoulders. You put a hand on his chest, waiting for the gesture to reassure him, but neither James nor Norine seemed to notice his fingers clenching painfully at your waist.

James tilted his head, his smile permanently stuck to his face, but there was that spark in his eyes again. His gaze swept Steve from head to toe, drinking every detail of his discomfort, and then, surprisingly, he moved his eyes to you.

You felt his hot gaze evaluate you from top to bottom, so fast that you could barely notice it, but the trail of chills that his eyes left on your skin accelerated your heart. The spark in his eyes was burning, like a flame about to take over his face, and you felt the heat rise up your chest to your cheeks. You didn't want to feel that way, not for him, not for Steve's friend.

"I hope you’re doing exactly that, yes," he said at last, returning his gaze to Steve, his voice cutting the air like a sharp knife. Steve kept smiling and pressed a kiss on your temple. You couldn't even afford to enjoy his affection, feeling that sensation in your stomach's mouth under James's scrutiny.

Norine seemed oblivious to the tension in the air and intertwined her fingers in yours, "Why don't we go inside and talk about the art of marriage and rum on the table, hm?" She pushed her hip against yours, eager to better know the new guest. You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel about him, apart from this urgent need to get as close as possible and run away from him at the same time.

Steve nodded firmly, stepping back and dragging you along. “Yes, we better get in. It looks as if it will rain tonight, and I don't want the air to make you two sick.”

James adjusted his black coat over his shoulders, his eyes fluttering between you three. He smiled, and pointed the way to the entrance with his open palm. “Go ahead, Steven.”

Steve could have ignored his comment or just didn't hear it, because his feet were already taking you to one of the many entrances of the manor, the one that was closest to the stables. You could hear the steps of Norine and James following you and her voice trying to start a conversation.

Steve slipped his arm out of your waist, but hooked a finger with yours. You looked up to look at him, giving him a bright smile, hoping that would lighten his strange mood. He, as always, didn’t return your gesture, but the way his eyes softened as he looked at you warmed your heart.

"James is quite nice, even though he made fun of you." You said in a singing voice, walking with short, slow steps, almost wobbly. You weren’t especially anxious to re-enter the manor, and you wanted to delay the inevitable encounter as much as you could. "I'd like to know him better." You murmured, feeling your cheeks warm up again.

Your fiance's expression was illegible when he muttered under his breath, "I'm glad you think that, because he's going to stay with us until we return to New York."

The words fell heavy from his lips to your ears, and you looked at him bewildered for a few seconds before looking at the ground so you wouldn't trip and fall. You still hear Norine talking about cakes, books and alcohol, but James remained silent.

You dared to glance over your shoulder at them and were surprised to find James staring at you. The same heat as before burned like flares in your stomach, and you looked away sharply, feeling his gaze all the way to the manor.

The few hours under the sun in the garden had lifted your spirits for a while, but soon you felt drained of energy again. It was as if the manor fed on your enthusiasm, your joy. Norine didn't seem affected by her new surroundings, and Steve was as dry of feelings as always, except for his unusual show of affection this afternoon.

While you wilted in the shadows, Norine ignored them like flies and Steve respected them like an old friend, James hadn’t shown any signs of discomfort when he entered the house. You knew he had been here before, Steve told you, but the way he walked through the halls and sat in the old chairs made you think about how comfortable he was in this gloomy environment.

The lack of sleep of the last weeks was affecting you strongly while you hung small pearl earrings on your ears, feeling less than willing to go down to dinner with your new guest. It was etiquette to prepare a special and elegant dinner for a new guest, and you would use the main dining room for the first time since you had arrived.

You took a breath and inspected your reflection in the full-length mirror of your room. Your dress was long, silky, with a skirt that fell like rose petals to stagnate at your feet. The neckline wasn’t too open, just brushing under your collarbone, and the sleeves rested on your shoulders gently. Your hair was collected in a simple but elegant hairstyle, with small indomitable locks jumping here and there.

You felt pretty, but you had used not to dress up the last few weeks. Now you sighed, sliding in your shoes and stealing one last look to the mirror before heading out into the hall and heading to the dining room, the candles lighting your hallway.

While James had been nothing but gentlemanly and kind to you since his arrival a few hours ago, his attentive gaze had made you nervous in several different ways. You couldn't deny how handsome he was or how much he attracted you, but you could deal with that. Your fiance might not feel any real respect or affection for you, but you would never treat him in the same manner.

It was that other feeling that his eyes left on your skin that made you restless. That tremor in your fingers, the chill that went up your back as if someone was breathing in your neck. James looked at you like he was going to eat you when you turned your back to him, and the feeling didn't leave you all afternoon.

The halls of the manor were covered by an old tapestry of black and red flowers on a white background obscured by time, and the candles were held by rusty iron candlesticks. You felt relieved as soon as you entered the dining room and saw the large windows on the walls, framed by thick curtains and giving you a splendid view of the night nature.

It was a large room with an equally majestic table, made of polished and shiny wood and surrounded by padded chairs with soft cushions and golden threads. A crystal chandelier hung over your head and frightened the shadows of the room, keeping much of the essence of the manor at bay. The table was already set, but the food had not yet been served.

Norine was already sitting, resting her delicate chin on her gloved hand. Her brown hair was lazily gathered on her neck, and some reddish curls framed her pale face and lips pursed with boredom. James was there too, but he turned his back on you as he looked into the darkness through the window, too distracted to pamper Norine with a polite conversation.

"What are you waiting for?" You startled to hear Steve by your side, his hand moving to rest on your lower back. His suit was elegant, clean, but not as glamorous as the costumes he had worn in those days where he courted you and took you to parties and carriage rides. His blue eyes were cold, and his lips were closed in a firm line.

"You," you lied, feeling your voice grow smaller. You really didn't want to be there with them; Steve looking down at you, Norine as if you were stupid, and James as if you were a prey. But it was too late to pretend to feel sick, "I wanted us to go in together."

Steve looked into the hall and put your hand on his elbow, his jaw clenched tightly. "You look beautiful."

His voice came out tight, as if it was hard for him to say the words, but the way in which his hand closed in yours on his arm told you he was honest. A blush went up your neck, and you muttered a few thanks before Steve pulled you into the dining room.

James turned around when you entered, and for a tiny second, you could see how the night was reflected on his face, with his blackened eyes and his pale and hollowed cheeks, his lips red with blood. You blinked, and his eyes were blue again, and the night was still where it had always been. He smiled at you.

You swallowed and took a seat when Steve offered it to you, but you kept your eyes on the table while everyone got comfortable and the servants served the food. Norine was, as always, the first to spark up the conversation.

"And you never thought about getting out of here, going with Steven to the city?" Norine was surprised at the idea of ​​a person who preferred the calm of the countryside to the chaotic city, but you couldn't blame her either. James looked like the kind of man who would fit perfectly in the big city; all smiles and charms, with his black leather gloves and dark coat. The ladies would fight for him, you're sure.

James just shrugged with a smile. “I’ve been in the city long enough for a life. I feel much more comfortable here in the manor.” He hadn't taken off his gloves to eat, and he held the fork between his fingers as if the leather was a second skin. His eyes jumped from Norine to you, and you paralyzed. "Loneliness suits some more than others."

You forced yourself to look away and took another bite of your food. Steve squeezed your knee, but he wasn't looking at you. It was as if he knew you were uncomfortable but he wasn't very interested in why. Maybe he just wanted you to behave during dinner, and then her would let you cry all you wanted in the loneliness of your room while he wallowed with Norine.

You bit your lip, trying not to think about it. James had spent most of dinner without looking at you, but now it seemed your luck was over.

“What about you, Y/N? Do you enjoy the atmosphere of the manor?” James said, his voice caressing your name like a cat playing with a mouse before opening its stomach. "The stars look amazing in this part of the forest."

The corner of his mouth was raised in a small smile when you dared to look at him, and the evil glow in his eyes had returned.

He knows, you thought when you see that glow again. He knows about the manor and its secrets.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to explore the area, but I find it beautiful from what I can see from my window. I'd like to explore the forest at some point.” You forced the words out, and yet you didn't lie. The darkness of the manor and its surroundings terrified you, but you couldn’t deny how attractive the forest became when night fell.

Steve shook his head, “I don't think so. The forest is dangerous during the day, much more at night. I could only take you to the lake, but not much further.”

"Is there a lake nearby?" Norine lit like a candle, and a smile stretched from her lips when she looked at you from her seat in front of Steve. “Oh, we have to go swimming at some point, sunflower! Like when we were girls, in my uncle's cabin, remember?”

A part of the heaviness in your stomach disappeared when you smiled at the memory. "We didn't pack swimsuits."

"We don't need them." Norine smiled blatantly, and your cheeks warmed when you caught the meaning of her insinuation.

"Norine!" You exclaimed at the same time that James let out a loud laugh. Norine didn't seem embarrassed at all, and Steve's hand rose higher up your thigh when her laughter joined James's. You looked at your fiance with big eyes, but he just squeezed your thigh in response.

James took a drink of his wine, smiling around his glass. “Steve, my friend, you can continue to fear the forest, if you want. I have no problem with accompanying the ladies to swim.”

"Don't even dream it, Barnes," Steve rolled his eyes, but his mouth curved in the slightest of smiles. “There are things that you aren’t yet worth seeing, and my wife's body is the first one.” Wife, you blushed. Wife, wife, wife. You could barely feel embarrassed with Steve's mortifying comment about your naked body, because it was the first time he called you that. Norine laughed with delight.

But James didn't look so playful anymore. His eternal charismatic smile was still there, but now he turned his glass in circles between his fingers, his eyes fixed on you. You felt your skin getting warm, and now, watching as his lips flushed with wine stretched in a wolfish smile and his hair fell on his shoulders in dark waves, you couldn't avoid the fire that lit in your stomach.

The thought of him seeing you as naked as the day you were born mortified you as much as it excited you. You noticed a heartbeat later that the fire that slowly consumed your body was desire. 

The kind of desire you still felt for Steve in your loneliest days, the kind of desire that ran through your veins when Norine drank too much wine and pressed wet kisses on your neck and shoulders, purring how much she loved you. The kind of desire you felt on those cold nights when you allowed your hand to slide under your nightgown and bite the pillow to silence your shameful sounds.

You wanted it, deeply, with everything and that feeling of panic and paranoia that his gaze caused you.

As if he knew exactly what you were thinking, James's smile spread impossibly larger. “Ah, Steve, always being right. Damned bastards like us don't deserve that kind of delight, don't you think, Y/N? ”

You squeezed your thighs together, feeling a pang of guilt when you remembered that Steve's hand was still there while you had those kinds of thoughts about his best friend. You looked at that pair of blue eyes that were watching you closely and you trembled.

"Any little pleasure is a delight for a man like you, Mr. Barnes." You let words slip from your tongue like honey, and Norine tries to hide a laugh behind her glass. Steve smiles, his eyes twinkling in your direction, but James barely blinks.

A fang shines in his smile. "That's where you're wrong, beautiful Y/N." He says, as if you were the only ones in the room, a secret shared among furtive lovers. You squirm in your seat, and put your hand on Steve's on your thigh to cling to the ground. "You are everything but a small pleasure."

You stop a gasp before it comes out of your lips. Norine begins to change the subject, telling a story about you two traveling to your family's property or life in the city. Steve has lost his smile, and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh through the dress. He's looking at Norine, but you know his attention is on you, alert. As if he feared you were going to jump over the table into James's arms.

James, meanwhile, gives you one last smile before joining the new conversation. Your stomach feels messy, and you can barely finish your meal by the end of dinner. The dishes are removed, the chairs dragged, and then everyone is leaving the dining room.

Steve kisses you goodbye at the bottom of the stairs and mutters a good night before going to his own room, leaving a cold feeling where his hands had touched you.

Norine is smiling, as always, in contrast to your calm posture. Pressing a kiss on your cheek and her hands squeeze yours, “Sleep well, sunflower. Don't let the wind bother you again.” You returned the desire tiredly, and watched as her dress disappeared down the hall. Maybe you should have accompanied her, considering that your room is close to hers, but then you realized that her quick farewell was probably because she wasn't going to her room at all.

You let out a defeated sigh, exhausted  and anxious to sink into your bed and sleep until someone dragged you out. You hear footsteps against the wooden floor until James is standing next to you, his hands entwined in front of him. His eyes run through you from head to toe in the dim candlelight.

"Let me accompany you to your room."

It's not a question, or a request, and you're too tired to protest, so just nod your head and move toward the stairs. At least you won't have to walk through the dark halls on your own, even if James's presence was no less frightening.

His footsteps echoed with yours, and neither of you tried to speak on the way to your room through the sea of ​​corridors and rooms that had to be traversed. You already knew the path of memory, but you still remembered the first days after your arrival when you got lost trying to go to the kitchen.

You were afraid to look at him and let your thoughts come out of your lips like bullets in a loaded shotgun. You kept your eyes on the floor, even though you felt his burning on you all the way. Finally, the door of your room appeared before your eyes, and you dared to look at him when you leaned against the wood.

"Thank you for accompanying me, you are very kind." Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the hallway it felt like a scream. James just tilted his head and watched you, his smile gone along with malice in his eyes. He looked at you as if he did it for the first time, as if he had barely noticed something very important about you.

You changed your weight on your feet, feeling that feeling of discomfort under his gaze again. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight." He replied, his voice hoarse. You turned your back and hurried into your room. You didn't want to close the door on his face, so you turned to say goodbye to him one last time.

But there was only darkness and dust in the hall, so you closed the door and breathed for the first time in all night.

Your bed was warm, soft, comfortable. You never wanted to get up, and you could barely form a line of coherent thoughts when the cold shook your body. The dream was dragged out of you like a mother tearing off the blanket that covers her son eager to keep sleeping, and you opened your eyes wearily.

It was still night, of that you were sure. Another shiver crawled across your skin, and you brushed your hair out of your eyes to see how the curtains flew with the wind that came through your open window. You frowned, still disoriented by sleep, but you were sure that you had closed the window and checked that the lock was firmly in place before going to sleep.

The sound of a groaning board brought your attention back to your room. You had been too distracted by the open window that you hadn't noticed that you weren’t alone in your bedroom.

James was sitting on the bench of your dressing table, with his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes fixed on you. His hair was loose and ruffled by the wind, and he was wearing a thin white shirt and dark trousers. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his hands were intertwined between his knees.

You gasped and sat on your bed, holding on to the sheets with your fists clenched. James just blinked. You forced yourself to take deep breaths, not allowing fear to manifest in your body or face.

"What are you doing in my room?" You tried to sound firm and upset, but you couldn't stop the tremor that slipped in your voice at the last word. James squared his jaw.

"Watching you," he said, his voice husky and deep, without a hint of emotion. Your stomach was a jumble of knots, and your hands clenched tighter on the sheets. The moonlight illuminated the room, but James had managed to find the perfect angle at which his face was still hidden by the shadows.

Everything had fallen silent outside, silencing the night song that hadn’t let you sleep in the last few weeks. Only the wind dared to whisper inside the room, bringing with it an icy air that stirred your hair and bristled your skin.

"That's not enough answer." You couldn't deny the shiver in your voice now, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze anyway.

James straightened up then, and your heart skipped a beat thinking that maybe you had bothered him and now he was going to lash out at you, but he just sat there, looking at you. His blue eyes, hidden in the shadows, ran through your body covered with sheets and a nightgown as if your skin was naked in front of him.

“Admiring you, then. I couldn't do it so freely in front of Steve.” He clenched his hands in his lap, as if he was holding back from doing something. “He’s possessive of his things, you know? But despite his dalliances, this is the first time he hasnt wanted to share.”

His eyes run over you again, and the movement of his tongue licking his lips lit a flame in you. You shook away the sensation, focusing on what he says and does. You covered your chest with the sheets, wishing you had put on a thicker nightgown.

"I don't want you here." You say, and your voice is hard.

"Liar." There's a hint of mockery in his voice, but this James is nothing like the smiling man you had met a few hours ago. This James is serious and stoic in a way that not even Steve had ever been, and the lack of feelings in his eyes frightened you immeasurably. "You want me to go into that bed with you and keep you warm for the rest of the night."

"That's not true." Your cheeks warmed at the thought, and you pressed your legs against your body, regretting the movement as soon as James's eyes saw a bare leg. You rushed to hide it under the sheet. "I want you to get away from me."

It's as if you had said the exact opposite, because then James stood up, and you realized how frighteningly tall he was. You tried to go back away, up the bed, just to find the wooden headboard against your back.

“Don't get close to me!” You panicked, holding on to the sheets as your only defense. As if he hadn't heard you at all, he took a step toward you. "I will scream if you go one step further."

"Go ahead, scream." He said, taking another step slowly towards you. It's not like it would take a long time to get to your bed, but you knew, from the look on his face, that your fear was exactly what he wanted. “No one is going to hear you in this part of the house. The servants sleep on top of the library, and we both know that Norine is in Steve's room, on the other side of the manor.”

His words burned, and you pressed your lips to avoid telling him an obscenity. You stole a look at the door, wondering if you would be fast and agile enough to dodge him and get out. James kept talking.

"Besides, I like the sound of your voice." His voice was dangerously closer, and you shuddered when his fingers brushed your shoulder over the nightgown. "Scream for me."

You let out a shaky breath, and closed your eyes when his fingers went up your neck until he reached your face, cupping it in his warm hand.

"Look at me, Y/N." His voice was low, but demanding. You opened your eyes and looked at him tremblingly, leaning on his hand when his thumb caressed your cheek in a gentle, affectionate gesture. The moonlight illuminated his face now, and his blue eyes shone with something you couldn't locate.

“You know when you see something so precious you need to break it?” He whispered, almost to himself, but your limbs tensed and the warmth of his hand was no longer so comforting. You jerked away.

"Are you going to hurt me?" You asked tremblingly, refusing to take your eyes off his, and clenched your jaw to keep your lower lip from shaking. James put one knee on your bed, sinking it under his weight and leaning over you.

"Only if you want me to." He breathed into your face, so close that you could count his eyelashes. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, and a beat skipped when his hands pulled the sheet down.

You should’ve stopped him. You should’ve pushed him, you should’ve scream. Instead, you let the sheet slip out of your hands and slowly go down your body, baring your chest, your stomach, your hips, your legs, until finally there was only a thin white nightgown covering your modesty, and you felt like your skin warmed under his gaze.

James threw the sheet at the foot of the bed and rested both knees on the mattress, trapping one of yours between his. His hands rested on each side of your hips and his face moved closer and closer to yours. Your lips brushed, and a breath stuck in your throat.

"James..." You whispered, your mouth speaking against his, and James let out a growl like you've never heard before.

"Say my name many more times." His eyes were unfocused, burning in yours, and you had no time to respond before his lips were on yours.

You hadn’t noticed when fear had melted into desire, but your body now burned with a fire very different from that of apprehension. He had rough, cold lips, and they tasted like wine and tobacco, although you hadn't seen him smoke all day. His mouth pressed against yours more persistently, and his hands clung to your waist.

You opened your lips when his tongue gently stroked them, and you let out a small sigh when his tongue entered your mouth. You had never been kissed like this before; Steve had been passionate once, but he had never taken your hips and pushed you against the bed, pressing his body against yours like James does now.

You grabbed his shoulders when his teeth closed on your lower lip and pulled until it slipped free, and a groan came out of your throat. His wet lips returned to yours before you could ask him to stop, to wait a moment, and you couldn't help but abandon yourself to the sensations of his hands rising up your hips to your waist.

His mouth kissed the corner of yours and left a trail of kisses down your jaw and down to your neck, his beard tickling your skin. You took a moment to catch your breath, and you sank your hands into your hair.

"This is wrong." You breathed, biting your lower lip when his lips closed at a sensitive point on your skin. "It's wrong, wrong, wrong."

"And why is that so, uh?" He bit the place he had been sucking, and then he ran his tongue over the marks his teeth had left. You suppressed a groan and closed your eyes tightly.

“I'm going to get married.” And it's not with you, you wanted to add urgently, but his hands went down past your waist and closed on your thighs, slowly raising the fabric of your nightgown while his lips kept exploring your skin.

"Get married, then." He kissed your collarbone and kept going down to your chest. Your fingers moved by themselves and pulled on the threads that held the front of the nightgown tied up, and then the fabric was loose on your breasts. His lips closed around the tip of one of them, sucking through the cloth that separated it from his tongue, and your hands clenched in his hair.

"James!" You exclaimed, his name fluttering on the walls of your room. He groaned against your chest at the same time that his hands kept rising, dragging your nightgown with you and exposing more and more skin, until your legs were bare and the fabric pooled on your hips.

The night began to fill with noises slowly as your breaths grew faster and your moans louder, joining the silent sound of the breeze entering the room to be a spectator of the most sinful act you have ever committed.

The moonlight bathed your bare skin as James discovered it. His mouth left your chest and he sat on his knees, drinking from the image of you, with your legs open on either side of his hips and red and swollen lips. The top of your nightgown had fallen open, a single breast being exposed so that the cold of the night bristled its tip.

James fixed his gaze on the bare center between your legs, and the heat rose to your cheeks tightly. No one had ever seen that part of you, and you felt like a common whore with your legs wide open and a bare breast. You tried to close your legs, but James held them apart and gave you a warning look.

You bit your lip and tried to focus on his face. You gasped when his fingers brushed the inside of your thigh and slowly slid down, until they were only inches from your most private part.

"I’m untouched." You whispered, unsure of why. Did you want him to stop? The mere idea that he stopped touching you right now drove you crazy, but the rational part of you really wanted him to do it. James didn't take his eyes off your core, and his fingers opened you carefully.

"I hoped that." He rasped distractedly, pressing his fingers deeper between your folds, and a shot of pleasure ran through your body. James growled. "Damnit, you're so wet." You blushed at his language, but then his fingers brushed that bundle of nerves at the top of your center and your hips arched in his direction.

You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the pillow, closing your hands in fists at your sides while James played with you, sinking his fingers in your cunt, the sounds of your wetness adding to the song of the night you had been singing along with the wind.

His hands felt so different from yours, with rough, thick and long fingers. His thumb rubbed your clit in hard and fast circles, and you opened your mouth in a silent scream, but only his name came out as a drowned whisper.

His hands suddenly moved away from your core, and you opened your eyes, feeling disoriented. James leaned over you, his blue eyes burning like the beginning of a flame. He claimed your mouth and stole your breath, pulling the folds of the front of your dress with such force that it tore it, opening it to your stomach. 

You gasped and whined in his mouth, but his calloused hands closed over your breasts and squeezed your nipples. His fingers were wet and you blushed at the thought of how it was your excitement that he was rubbing against your skin.

Your mouth opened with his, breathing a, "Please," before being consumed again. James lowered his hips against yours, pressing against your center, and your hands clenched in his hair when the evidence of his desire rubbed against your sensitive folds.

Your fists clenched in the thin fabric of his shirt and you pulled it, eager to feel his skin against yours. Your lips parted just to lift his shirt over his head, and you threw the cloth away before running your hands down his torso, feeling every muscle and curve under his skin. 

His forehead was resting against yours and he watched you drink from him as he had done with you, and you bit your lip when you looked down and saw the bulge in his trousers.

His lips kissed just under your ear, his hands sliding under the fabric of your broken nightgown and pulling it up, past your breasts and then over your head. You found yourself naked before him, in the cold night air and bathed in the bright moonlight. His hands flew to untie his last piece of clothing, and you felt how the weight of the situation fell on you.

"Please wait." You tried to cover yourself with your hands, but you couldn't protect your bare skin from his eyes much more. James raised his eyes to yours, but his hands didn’t stop. He pushed his pants off his legs and leaned over you, taking your hands and pressing them against the mattress. "If I do this, I won’t be pure."

James rubbed his nose with yours in a gentle, kind gesture, completely contrary to the hardness in his eyes. "Neither is Steve, but that doesn't seem to matter to anyone."

You opened your mouth to protest, to say something, but you could only let out a whine when the tip of his member rubbed against your entrance, moving up and down with the swing of his hips.

"James, please." You sobbed, feeling his thick head press inside, pushing slowly. You tried to free your hands from his grip, but he just pressed harder against the bed.

"Say my name again." A shadow crossed his face, and you thought you saw his eyes bathe in black, but then he blinked and the darkness was gone. He pushed again, pressing against your entrance but not entering yet. Your hands clenched into fists and your clit throbbed.

"James..." The tip stretched your entrance painfully slow, pushing into your tight core. You whined and bit your lip, waiting for the pain to come. James's eyes were crystal clear, unfocused, as if he was drunk.

"Again." He grunted, and his hips pushed deeper. You were so wet that his thick circumference easily slid into your core, no matter how tight you were. You closed your eyes to the pain, but the pleasure still creeped inside your veins..

"James." You cried out louder, pushing your hips up. "James!"

He growled, low and deep from his throat, and his hips pressed together against yours. You opened your mouth in a silent gasp, feeling him completely inside of you. You could feel every curve, every vein throbbing inside your cunt, and you crossed your gaze with his.

He was so close that his breathing mixed with yours, his eyes drinking from every detail of your pain and pleasure written on your face. A smile curved his blood-red lips, and his mouth brushed yours when he murmured, "You are mine now, angel."

And then he pushed, your breasts bouncing against his chest and your lips opening in gasps and groans that you tried to cushion with kisses and bites. The pain was dull, muted, and soon began to dissipate as he pushed deeper and deeper with each thrust.

You wished that your hands were free to travel his body, his hair, his broad shoulders. His thrusts became harder, slower, patient, and his eyes never turned away from yours. Mine, he seemed to tell you, mine and only mine, no one’s else.

You wrapped your legs around your waist, wanting to feel him as deep as you could, and your chest rose and fell with each harsh breath. His grunts and groans vibrated in your tongue every time you squeezed after a particularly strong thrust, and you drank all the sounds he made thanks to you.

The song of the night was at its peak. Your eyes clenched shut when you felt that burning pulse in your stomach, like a flame growing and growing until it burned everything in its path.

"James." You screamed, just as he asked you to do, and his hips moved up, pushing at a new angle that made you see stars, and you felt like a huge wave of pleasure ran through your entire body. 

Your sight darkened and your legs trembled, holding impossibly tight around him. James caught your scream in his tongue, kissing you and pushing along your orgasm. You could hardly breathe by the time you came down from your cloud.

He kept pushing, chasing his own release. You could barely keep your eyes open, and his hands closed tightly with yours. His breathing became heavy and his thrusts sloppy, erratic. You looked at him through half-closed eyes with a drunk smile on your lips.

“Come for me, James. Only for me."

His eyes burned in a sea of ​​blackness, and his cheeks were pale, in contrast to the red lips that dripped blood over his chin. You were too exhausted to pay attention to the terrifying image in front of you, and you only groaned when his hips pushed harder.

“My dear angel. You are so sweet, so pure.” His kisses tasted of copper and withered flowers, and his hips collided painfully against yours, making you moan pitifully.

With one last thrust and a throaty growl, his hips stayed still, with his cock buried deep inside your cunt, and you felt the strange sensation of him coming inside you. A part of you knew that it wasn't good at all, but you ignored it in favor of smiling at your lover above you.

His hands released you and his arms wrapped around your shaking body, lying on his side and pulling you with him. You rested on his chest contently, completely exhausted. His hands rubbed circles on your sweaty back, and you could feel the wetness of your excitement and blood between your thighs.

Tomorrow you can worry about the paralyzing guilt you will feel, the mortification of having delivered your virginity so easily, and having so easily accepted the darkness within your body. But now you could only rub your nose against James's chest and wait for the sleep to come.

"James." You whispered one last time, letting your eyes close.

"You can call me Bucky, if you want to." You could hear the smile in his voice, but you didn't have the strength to look him in the eye. Instead, you hummed when he stretched to cover you with your blanket and pressed a kiss on your forehead. His lips stayed there, brushing your skin. “My precious, you are mine to break and to harm. My angel, mine, mine.”

You fell asleep listening to his lullaby, and the wind cooed you good night.

Your bed was warm, soft, comfortable. You never wanted to get up, and you could barely form a line of coherent thoughts when the cold shook your body. The dream was dragged out of you like a mother tearing off the blanket that covers her son eager to keep sleeping, and you opened your eyes wearily.

It was day, you were sure of that. You tried to turn on your side, but the pain in your muscles stopped you. You groaned pitifully, and your hips burned when you tried to sit down. You rubbed your eyes, but even your wrists were flushed, as someone pressed them for a long time.

You managed to sit on your bed and pulled your hair away from your face wearily. You rubbed your wrists gently and watched as the curtains moved smoothly with the morning breeze from the open window. Your pulse quickened, a memory quickly appearing in your mind, and you turned to your dresser, hoping to see Bucky there.

But the bench of your dresser was empty, and the door was closed. You put one hand on your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat, and took one breath after another. Your nightgown was intact, with no trace of being torn in half, and the sheets on your bed were still in place. Everything was exactly where you left it the night before when you went to bed.

Had it been a dream? The idea disturbed you more than it should. It had all felt so terrifyingly real - his hands, his lips, his kisses - you couldn't have imagined something so realistic. You remembered the cold air against your bare skin, the sensation of his teeth biting on your neck, his hands clinging to your hips...

You looked at your dresser for a second, and the sight of your engagement ring resting peacefully in an open jewelry box sent a pang of pain toward your heart. You had done this to Steve, even though you had promised never to return the favor. The overwhelming guilt enveloped you like a blanket, and you blinked to scare away the tears that burned in your eyes.

You bit your lip to endure the pain in your muscles and stood up, wrapping yourself in a robe and sliding into shoes. You ran your hands through your hair to be barely presentable before leaving your room without looking back.

You walked through the halls with hot cheeks and a knot in your stomach. You hoped to avoid Norine and Steve as much as you could, but living in the same house as them, you doubted you would be so lucky. You saw servants here and there, but none spoke to you more than a short ‘Good afternoon’. How long had you slept?

Finally, you found Bucky - James, you remembered yourself, standing on one of the manor's many balconies. As all the windows and balconies did, the main sight was the dark and infinite forest that surrounded the manor in all directions, and James seemed to be engrossed in watching the leaves moving with the wind.

He laid his eyes on you and his lips spread in a mocking smile. His eyes shone with mischief, as if remembering the events of the previous night. It was strange, seeing this smiling James after witnessing that dark and serious side of him. But of course, maybe that James had never existed, maybe you had only dreamed it.

“Ah, Y/N, you finally woke up. You missed a great breakfast.” He rested his elbows on the railing, tilting his body dangerously over the edge. You had a feeling that nothing would happen to him if he fell, even though you were on a third floor.

"I want to talk to you." You said, your voice hoarse, and you were surprised at how sore your throat was too. You couldn't remember if your screams were strong enough to cause this kind of pain. "It's about something important."

"Hm." James hummed, looking at you over his shoulder from top to bottom, and you remembered what it was like to feel under his gaze. “Go ahead, I’m listening.” His indifference bothered you, but you pressed your lips and got closer to the railing with him. The intensity of his gaze burned, so you looked at the forest instead.

"Last night..." You took a deep breath. "What happened last night…"

"Didn't you like me to accompany you to your room?" He tilted his head to the side, his hair in a ponytail at the back of his neck. His blue eyes showed no emotion, and you gasped for an answer.

"No, is not that. What happened after, in my room…” You felt like the words slipped from your mouth like scared mice, and you killed your desire to run away and pretend that nothing had ever happened. His eyes kept studying you carefully. "What we did…"

James shook his head, the lightest frown on his forehead. "What are you talking about?"

Your heart pounded against your chest and your breathing almost stopped. So if it was a dream, you had imagined everything. You hadn’t betrayed Steve, you hadn’t delivered your virginity to your fiance's dearest friend on a silver tray, you hadn’t let the darkness whisper sweet words in your ears all night long...

"I..." You stopped, thinking about what to say, and your gaze stopped on his lips. The heat rose to your face, and you squeezed your gown closer around you. James approached you, and you jumped when his hands fell on your shoulders.

“Adapting to the manor can be difficult, I know. You don't have to give me explanations.” He said, his voice surprisingly soft. You thought he would take the opportunity to make fun of you, as you had noticed that he liked doing so much. Instead, his smile was warm and friendly. How many versions are there of James Barnes?

You returned the gesture, relieved that everything had been just a dream. Even so, your muscles ached with every movement and sunlight burned your eyes in a strange way. "Thank you, James."

He tilted his head to the side, and there was that insufferable smile of his, full of malice and mockery. His eyes shone with that emotion that, even now, made your hair stand on end. "I thought I told you to call me Bucky."

You looked up sharply, and every muscle in your body tensed at the same time. Suddenly, Bucky's hands no longer felt warm and comforting but burning and heavy, forcing you to keep still in your place.

You searched frantically for something in his expression that told you he was joking, but there was only that gleam of cruelty hidden deep in his gaze.

"I don't understand..." Your voice faded, and you took a step back, letting Bucky's hands fall. Bucky crossed them in front of him, covered in black gloves again. Had he worn them last night? The pain in your temples clouded your memories.

"You don't have to, my angel." He murmured, so that only you would listen to him, as if the walls could hear him and tell his secrets to the servants. Maybe they could. You opened your mouth to demand explanations, but a voice called from the balcony door.

A pale blonde maid stared at the floor, her hands and slender shoulders protruding in her gray dress. Bucky barely looked at her, too distracted in torturing you.

"Mr. Rogers would like to speak with you, Mr. Barnes." Her voice was small, trembling, but a note of fury obscured her words. You were too shocked to notice much more of her, and Bucky cupped your face in his hand, the cold leather against your skin.

"I’ll see you, then. And don't forget to eat, we want you healthy and strong.” He said, his voice commanding, not asking, and you nodded with trembling lips and unfocused eyes. Your head throbbed while you watched as he disappeared down the hall, the maid following closely, and pressed your hands against your stomach. You wanted to vomit.

You returned to your room at a slow pace, disoriented. What had really happened? What did James want from you? Your body ached and your head throbbed, so you approached your bed with desires to sink back into it and never wake up.

You pulled the pale sheets apart and let them fall on the floor with a gasp, your hands shaking. You stepped back and stared at your bed. With its pillows and cushions sewn with golden threads and thick white sheets, the bright color of blood stood out to the eye.

You felt like a lump went up your throat, because you had been so rushed to leave that morning that you hadn't noticed the blood of your lost virginity staining your thighs.

A/N:  I’m a lazy bitch and wrote this one day before the deadline. Also, can you see how much I fucking hate writing sex scenes? Not because I dislike it, but because I fucking suck at it. It’s so bad, oh God.

So, spoiler alert: don’t fucking trust anyone. This is gonna be a series, a dark one indeed, so if that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read. Let’s keep negativity out of ourselves, okay? Okay.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you sighed. You swam to the middle of the pool and closed your eyes. You counted to ten to give her time to move around. “Marco!”

“Polo!” Her voice was faint, and it sounded like it was coming from behind you on the left.

You turned around and swam towards where you thought she was. “Marco!”

“Polo!” Her voice was closer now.

You smiled as you heard the splash of water. It was barely audible over the noise of laughter from other people in the pool as she was trying to move quietly, but it was just loud enough for you to hear. You doggie paddled in her direction. “Marco!”

“Po...” she trailed off, but you could hear her right next to you. You reached out your arms, expecting to grab onto her, but there was nothing there. You furrowed your brow. She must’ve gotten away fast.

“Marco!” You waited for her response, but it didn’t come. “Marco?” Still nothing. You huffed. “Emily, we talked about this! You have to say polo!” You spun around. Dread started to settle in the pit of your stomach. “Emily?”

In fact, it was eerily silent. The only sound was the slosh of the water around you. You opened your eyes and looked around you. There was no one in the pool, and the once clear, cerulean water was now tainted black. Black as ash, black as char.

Black as dust.

-

“Everyone disappeared that day. My family, my friends. That was over a year ago now, but I can still remember it as if it was yesterday.” You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, your eyes welling with tears. You must’ve told this story a thousand times, but it still got to you. “No matter how hard I try, I just can’t forget.”

“You don’t have to forget to move on, (Y/N). It’s important to remember the loved ones we lost,” Michael who led the support group explained to you in a soothing tone. “But we can’t let our futures be ruled by the past. We have to build our lives while honoring the memory of those who are gone, to move on in a way that they would be proud of.” His eyes locked with yours. “Thank you for sharing your story, (Y/N). Hopefully, it will encourage other people to share theirs as well.” He glanced down at his watch. “That’s our time for today. Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’ll see you all again next week, same place, same time.”

The legs of the metal chairs screeched against the tiled floor as the other people in the circle stood up. They gathered their things, most of them heading straight for the door while some of them hung around after and chatted. You grabbed your bag from where it was slung over the back of your chair and threw it over your shoulder. You were ready to join the rest of those bolting for the exit when a man named Dave stepped into your path.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?” You nodded wordlessly. “I just wanted to say you were really brave for sharing that with us. I don’t think I would have the guts to do that.” He laughed nervously.

“Thanks, Dave.” You offered him a weak smile. He had only been in the support group for a couple of weeks. He didn’t really speak much. The only reason you knew his name was because of the introductions at the beginning of every meeting.

“My parents disappeared in the snap too, so I know how hard it is.” He lowered his gaze to his shoes. Everyone you met had lost someone nowadays. It was the new normal. “If you ever want to talk about it one on one,” he reached into his jacket and retrieved a small slip of paper, “feel free to call me. We could go get coffee or something.”

You looked down at the paper in his hand. Scrawled on it was his phone number in black ink. You took it from him and shoved it in the back pocket of your jeans. “I’ll think about it,” was all you said.

“Okay, cool. Bye, (Y/N).” He waved to you as he started to retreat. “See you soon.”

You waved back and watched him leave. You waited, giving him a head start, before moving towards the exit to the church where the support group was held. You took the slip of paper out of your pocket and discreetly disposed of it in the trashcan next to the doors. Many people had started to reach out to one another, to make new connections to fill in the gaps and holes left from the old ones. But you weren’t one of those people. Your associations were few and far between, and you were starting to prefer it that way. The less amount of people in your life meant less of a chance of getting hurt again.

You kept your head low as you left the church and headed back to your tiny, studio apartment in your hometown. You had been attending the support group meeting for a little over a year now. It was your last hope, but nothing had changed. You still felt like there were heavy chains attached to your ankles weighing you down and holding you back. You still wished that you had been a part of the fifty percent, that either all of your family had survived or you had gone with them.

You took a shortcut through an alley to your apartment and immediately regretted it when you saw a shadowed figure leaning against the building. It pushed off of the brick wall and was on you in a second. You heard the cock of a gun and saw the glint of metal in the dim light of the far away street lamps. “Purse, now,” the deep voice growled.

You didn’t argue with the man. There was no point. He was way bigger than you were, so overpowering him would be impossible. You let out a small sigh before letting the strap of your bag fall off your shoulder. You did what every adult had advised you to do ever and threw it a good distance away from you so if the mugger dove for the bag, you’d have a chance to escape.

The man didn’t move. He stood stock still in front of you, like he was contemplating something. “The necklace too.”

That sent a pump of fear surging through your veins. Your hand absentmindedly reached up to touch the small, diamond pendant dangling from the gold chain around your neck. It had been your mother’s before she had given it to you. “I... I can’t,” you stammered, holding back tears.

“I don’t think you understand.” He raised the gun higher so you could see it clearly. He aimed it directly at your head. “Give me the necklace now, or I put a bullet through your skull.”

You slowly lowered your arm to your side. If you had to die over protecting your mother’s necklace, then so be it. You rolled back your shoulders and lifted your chin. You stared down your nose at the man. He tightened his grip on the gun, readying to pull the trigger.

A hand wrapped around the back of the man’s neck and lifted him off of the ground. The man’s eyes bulged, and he let out a sharp yelp as he was slammed against the wall of the building by another shadowed figure. The figure held him up like a rag doll and punched him square in the jaw. He let go of him, and the mugger dropped to the gravel in a dirty puddle, limp and unconscious.

You pressed yourself up against the brick wall opposite the figure, panting for breath. Whoever this man was, he was unlike anyone you had ever seen before. He was tall and stocky, with broad shoulders and huge biceps straining against the fabric of his hoodie. He unclenched his large fists, and you could tell he was restraining any animosity he had and unbridled strength he possessed. He slowly turned around, his face shadowed by the hood pulled up over his head.

“Are you all right, miss?” You furrowed your brow. His voice sounded strangely familiar, like you had heard it somewhere before.

He reached up and lowered his hood. A slat of light streaming in from the end of the alleyway shone down on his face. He had chiseled features, a strong jaw, short, golden hair. His glossy, blue eyes caught what little light there was and reflected it like the stars in the sky.

“C-captain America?” you stuttered.

A soft chuckle fell from his pink lips. “That’s me.”

That only added to your confusion. “I didn’t know avengers saved people being mugged in alleyways now,” you joked.

“I happened to be in the area.” He leaned down and picked up your bag from where you had thrown it. “But I’m not what’s important right now. Are you okay?”

He held your bag out to you, and you took it from him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” What business could an avenger have in your hometown? Shouldn’t he be off saving the world somewhere or hunting down some big, evil villain? Shouldn’t he be trying to reverse the effects of the blip?

“Really, it was no problem.” He beamed at you triumphantly, his face alit. It was strangely off-putting.

You looked over his shoulder at the mugger collapsed in a heap on the ground. “Is he going to be okay?” There was something odd about the way he was so still. He didn’t even look like he was breathing.

Steve’s face twisted with confusion before he saw who you were looking out. “He’s just out cold. He’ll probably wake up in a couple of hours.” He looked back at you. “Why does it matter? He attacked you.” His focus on you was undivided, like you were the only thing in the world.

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” You forced a strained smile on your face. “Thanks again for your help. Goodbye.”

You started to walk away when he blocked your path. “Where do you live? Maybe I could walk you home.”

“That’s really not necessary.” You wrung your hands together.

“Please, it’s the least I could do. Wouldn’t want you to get into another incident like this one without me there to save you, now would I?” He grinned.

Your smile faltered. “I can take care of myself.”

He raised his brows, like he was taken aback at your response. “Really? ‘Cause from the looks of it, you would be bleeding out on the ground right now if I hadn’t have come to the rescue.” He loomed over you. “Why is that necklace so important to you, you’d be willing to die for it?”

You shrunk away from him and grasped the diamond resting against your collarbone again. “My mother gave it to me. She was-”

“Taken from you in the blip?” he finished for you. You nodded. It was a pretty obvious guess. “I understand how it is, (Y/N). I lost people myself, but you can’t let it rule your life forever.” He extended a hand to you. “Now, please. Allow me to take you home.”

Every muscle in your body froze. “How did you know my name?”

An unreadable expression came over his face, but it was replaced in a second by his usual poster-boy smile. “You told it to me, remember?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No, I didn’t.” You eyed him suspiciously.

He slowly lowered his arm and dropped it to his side. The corners of his lips twitched before his smile slipped from his face. His lips pressed into a thin, straight line, and his blue eyes hardened. All the light drained from them until they were two blackholes in the middle of his face, sucking and drawing you into them.

“I’m sorry we had to meet this way, (Y/N).” His tone was dark and low, and it made chills run down your spine. “I didn’t plan for it to happen like this, but I guess we rarely ever do.”

Some instinct deep in your gut told you to run. You tried to sidestep him, but he was faster than you. He grabbed your arm and pushed you back against the wall. The back of your head connected with the brick, causing your field of vision to go blurry. You could barely see Steve in front of you as he reached in the pocket of his hoodie and took out a syringe filled with a bright green liquid. How did you think you could outrun a super soldier?

You struggled against him, but his arms kept you still. He pressed his chest flush against yours as he jabbed the syringe into the side of your neck. The sharp sting of the needle piercing your skin cut through the dull ache in your skull. “Shhh,” he shushed you as he injected you with the liquid. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. You’re with me now.”

His voice sounded muffled to your ears. Your body relaxed as whatever he had injected you with involuntarily invaded your senses. Gray, fuzzy dots formed over your already hazy vision until it was completely enveloped in black, and the sweet bliss of unconsciousness took its hold over you.

-

You slowly returned to your senses. You felt like you were trying to move through molasses as you tried to get the gears spinning in your brain again. Your limbs felt heavy and weighed down, like they were made out of lead. Your eyes fluttered open, but you still couldn’t see anything. There was a bag over your head, shrouding you in darkness.

You let out a low groan, and you heard footsteps draw closer to you. They stopped right in front of you, and the brown bag was ripped off of your head. You winced as you were blinded with light. You blinked rapidly to adjust your gaze before taking in your surroundings. You were in a rather spacious room with concrete walls and a cold, stone floor. The only source of light was the singular, overhead lamp shining down on you, keeping everything beyond the pool of light you were in out of focus.

You became painfully aware of the position you were in. Your wrists were tied above your head to a rope hanging from the ceiling. You were suspended enough so your toes just barely touched the ground, keeping you in a state of constant discomfort and exhaustion. Your bones and joints were sore, and you struggled to balance yourself on the tips of your toes. A strangled cry crawled its way out of your throat.

“I know, little girl.” Your head snapped to Steve who stood in front of you. He looked completely unhinged now. His lips were twisted into a sinister grin, and his blown out pupils swallowed all light that hit them. “I know it hurts, but this is temporary, as long as you behave.” The way he said behave made your stomach coil in repulsion.

“Where am I?” Your voice was hoarse and strained.

“Somewhere where no one will find us, where we can be alone.” He lifted a hand to caress your face, and you jerked away from his touch. His grin wavered. “You know, I have to commend you, (Y/N). You are a smart girl. Most people wouldn’t notice a slip up like that, but you are not most people. That’s why I like you so much. You’re cunning, like when you threw away Dave’s phone number because you knew he’d never be worthy of someone like you.”

You bristled. “You were watching me?” He nodded. “Why?”

He reached in the back pocket of his jeans and held up a crinkled piece of paper for you to see. It was a newspaper clipping of an article about you detailing the loss of your family and friends. A lot of them had been run about people after the blip. This one featured a picture your best friend had taken of you on a bridge overlooking a river. Even though the ink was faded, you could make out the radiant smile on your face and the bright look in your eyes. You felt like you were staring at a completely different girl. This version of you was so foreign to you now.

“You lost everyone dear to you in the blip, and all because of me. Because I failed to prevent it, failed to stop Thanos.” He clenched his jaw so hard the veins in his neck stood out. “So I thought that maybe if I followed you for a little while, if I could just help you from afar, I could make it up to you, but it wasn’t enough.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “You need me. The only way I can truly protect you is if I have you in my grasp. Our little run-in in the alley showed me that.”

You shook your head. “You’re insane.” He was Captain America! Wasn’t he supposed to be the good guy, the one whose face was plastered over all the posters with inspiring words attached to them? The star spangled hero? The man standing in front of you now was anything but that. He was like a depraved, funhouse mirror version of him. I guess the blip changed us both. “You think just because you feel guilty you can stalk me and try to control my life!”

He chuckled, the sound bouncing off of the walls. It sounded so out of place for the situation and slowly morphed into maniacal cackling. “You know, another thing about you is that you’re really stubborn. You’re so insistent on being alone. I mean, you didn’t even want me to walk you home after you almost died in an alley by yourself!”

“Because I don’t need you, you sadistic fuck! I don’t need anyone!” Your voice shook with rage. Angry tears sprung from the corners of your eyes and dripped off your chin.

“You do need me.” He cupped your face in his large hands, wiping away the tracks left behind by your tears. “More than you realize right now, I know. But we’ll work on that. I’ll teach you to trust me, to not isolate yourself so much. I’ll give you your old life back.” His hands drifted down to your hips. “I’ll make you whole again.”

You moved back as much as possible, ignoring the way the rope cut into your skin at the undesirable position. It rubbed your wrists raw until they were red and irritated, and you could feel wet blood rolling down your arms in thick drops. You screamed wildly before kicking your leg at him with all the force you could muster. He caught it before you could land a solid blow to his gut, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“I know every move you make, (Y/N). I know everything there is to know about you.” He reached for the fly on your jeans. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“No! Get off of me!” You shouted desperately as he undid the button and zipper on your pants. He pulled the denim and your panties down your legs in one fell swoop. “Get away from me! Let me go! Let me go!”

He threw the discarded garments over his shoulder and grabbed your hips again. “Shhh,” he shushed you as he pulled you close to him. “I just want to hold you. I just want to make you feel better.”

He gripped your thighs and forced your legs to fold around his waist. He lifted you up, and you hated the flush of relief that ran through you as the weight of your body was removed from your arms and shoulders. He smirked at you and moved his hand in between your bodies, pulling his cock out of his jeans. Fear coursed through your veins as you got a glance at the size of him.

“Stop it. Get away.” Your voice cracked. You knew it was hopeless.

“There’s no stopping me, (Y/N).” He positioned himself at your entrance, and you didn’t have time to prepare before he pushed in. Your mouth fell open as the head of his cock stretched you open. You tensed against him, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. “Just relax,” he whispered in your ear. You tried to listen to him, willing to do anything to stop the searing burn as he entered you. He slid into you to his limit, pushing you way past yours. “There. Isn’t that better?”

He moved in and out of you at a slow pace. You gritted your teeth and willed yourself to focus on the pangs of pleasure sent rolling through you with each thrust of his hips. Slick coated the inside of your thighs, and he sped up as you relaxed around him. Your cheeks were flushed from the heat and embarrassment at taking any pleasure out of this at all, but you were grateful that your arousal meant his rough treatment hurt less.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment,” he grunted. “To touch you,” he carded a hand through your hair, earning a squeak from you as his fingers caught on the tangles, “to kiss you.” He smashed his lips against yours, silencing any screams that wanted to escape.

He tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, certain to bruise. The obscene noise of skin slapping against skin filled the otherwise quiet room as you bounced up and down on his cock. He pulled away from your lips and nuzzled the tip of his nose against your cheekbone. His short and shallow breaths filled your ears, and his white t-shirt clung to his chest with sweat where your bodies made contact.

“Cum for me,” he managed between pants. His hand snaked up your torso to cup your bouncing tit. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You could feel a wall of pleasure building inside you. You twisted your hands in the rope, desperate for something to cling onto. You could no longer stop the needy mewls falling from your lips in time with his thrusts. Your walls clenched around his cock as the wall came crashing down, euphoria washing over you. You leaned your head back, your thighs twitching around him.

“Yes,” he breathed out. He fucked into you at an inhuman pace. You were too dazed to realize he had cum inside of you until it was too late. He stilled inside of you as his cum painted your walls.

Your chest rose up and down violently as you caught your breath. You closed your eyes, relieved that this torment was finally over. Then, you felt him harden inside of you again, and your eyes snapped open. A whine left your parted lips.

When he realises the faint light of dawn is getting brighter outside, he gives up fighting with the sheet and tears through it. The two white halves of linen sinks to the floor in silence like the echoes of distant ghosts. He will have to see if he can stitch them back together later. The day is already off to a bad start and he doesn't need to hear Stark lecturing him about defacing borrowed property. Again. No, what he needs is to clear his head. He can't even hear his own footsteps as he crosses the room and opens the bathroom door. His own stealth unnerves him sometimes. Clenching his jaw, Bucky makes sure to close the door behind him. The soft click of the lock is somehow comforting. As is the water splashing onto the crown of his head and running down the length of his body, rinsing away the stench of sweat and nightmares. That's why he sleeps naked; it's less of a hassle in the mornings. He turns up the heat as far as it will go and waits until the metal plates in his arm have absorbed the warmth. With quick, efficient movements, he begins to jerk himself off under the shower. As with everything else in his life, he goes about the task with the cold detachment of a soldier that HYDRA perfected in him. There is nothing sensual about the way he pumps himself towards completion, nothing gentle about the squeeze of his balls in his flesh hand. He just wants some sort of release, and he knows exactly which buttons to press for his body to respond. It's another part of him that, despite Shuri and the rest of Wakanda’s finest scientists’ best efforts, remain more automatized than human. Biting his lower lip hard, he tries to imagine someone else's hand stroking his shaft. A smaller, more delicate hand, nails painted red perhaps. It doesn't work. In the past, Sergeant James Barnes would have thought of a girl he had taken dancing back before he got shipped out. Billowing skirt, shoes with soles that clicked merrily against the cobblestones, all done up for him and glowing when she saw him, handsome in his still pristine uniform. How she blushed when he smiled at her, how she gasped as his fingers trailed up her thighs, the tightness around his cock as he filled her - or maybe some local European farmer's daughter who had spared him a lingering glance and a pretty smile as he marched by. He would have thought of her coming to him in the lonely hours of the foreign night, whispering soothing nothings in his ear while her hand crawled into his trousers and gently began stroking his length. She would kiss his neck and tell him how brave and beautiful he was, her warm body pressed close to his while she worked him into a blissful, private ecstasy with a hand not made of metal, and he would fall asleep with the certainty that once the war was over he would return back home and find a girl of his own. Bucky knows somewhere deep in the shadows of his mind that those fantasies had felt pleasant and a lot more satisfying than the solitude of the shower stall. He has tried time and time again to call up the images of the girls from the past. Not a single one of them remains to him. There are of course modern women who tickle his fancy every day. Steve's friend from SHIELD, the receptionist who works weekends in Stark Tower, the blonde who sometimes walks her dog in the park when he runs, the modelesque beauties leaving Sam's room after a night out, the woman reading the weather forecast on TV. Even the girl who delivered pizza to the compound last week had made Bucky look twice, with her pierced lips and dark green eyeshadow. No matter how hard he tries, however, he can't picture them in his mind when he puts his hands on his cock. They become fleeting ideas in his head, words without meaning, too distant and abstract to turn him on. In the end, he is left with no imaginary aid and pure physicality will have to do. He cums with a short groan in the back of his throat. The water washes it all away and it only takes him a few deep breaths to get his heart rate back to normal. It's 5 a.m. when he dons a pair of black sweatpants, a matching tank top and a dark grey sweatshirt to hide his metal arm. It'll be too warm later in the day, but as long as he can get his morning run done before the sun rises too high, it's manageable. He slips past Steve's room quietly and out through one of the kitchen doors without meeting anyone. Once outside, he takes off down his usual path. The air is clear and still. Nothing moves except for him. The pale golden disc of the sun has not entirely let go of the horizon yet, clinging on for one last kiss before the day can truly begin. The world still holds its breath. The streets are all but deserted at this hour, or at least the ones he takes. Bucky has deliberately planned this route through trial and error with that particular criteria in mind. He rarely, if ever, runs into anyone. He prefers it that way. Today is a rare one, however. As he nears the park, he spots a girl hurrying along its fences. She doesn't look at him and normally Bucky wouldn't acknowledge her, either, but his enhanced senses doesn't miss the fact that something small falls out of her pocket and lands on the pavement while she marches on, clearly focused on reaching her destination fast rather than pay attention to her surroundings. Bucky changes course and picks up what turns out to be a blister pack with four of the little capsule pills popped. He doesn't recognise the long Latin name of the drug on the back of it, but it seems important. For a moment he considers dropping it back onto the pavement and hope she comes back for it herself. If it is important, she'll notice the medicine is gone and go back to look for it. There won't be a lot of people around at this time of day so chances are no one will take it for at least an other hour. Then, just as he is about to put it back down, an unwelcome thought creeps into his mind in a nasty little voice that resembles Stark's a bit too much: what would Steve have done? Bucky almost groans. Yes, what would Steve have done? Medication on prescription is expensive. He doesn't know what it's for, but it could potentially be something that saves her life - or ends it if she doesn't take it. Besides, littering is bad form. He rolls his eyes hard at himself and takes off again after the girl. She has entered the park, presumably to cut a corner towards the main street, when Bucky catches up. "Excuse me? Miss? You dropped this," he calls out when he gets close and the girl stops, turning around. For a second, Bucky forgets to breathe. "Thank you." She eyes him warily when he offers her the blister pack, but she takes the pills from him regardless. Her fingers faintly brush against his hand when she does and his heart does a weird off-kilter somersault in his chest at the contact. "It would have been a pain to lose these." And then she smiles at him. It doesn't matter that she looks pale and tired, or that her hair is slightly messy and her posture is already halfway turned away from him in her haste. The small, tentative smile she offers makes Bucky feel warm inside, fuzzy almost and he smiles back with the slightest tinge of red in his cheeks. "Take care," he says lamely and then she's gone, hurrying on down the street until she turns a corner and he loses sight of her. Bucky feels strangely bereft when he returns to his route. Normally, he is focused on running, on the path ahead of him, on the movement of his legs and strain in his muscles, but now all he keeps seeing is her. The early sunlight in her messy bed hair. He turns and runs down by the lake in the park. The gravel crunches beneath his feet, but the sound is faint. His cheeks are still warm with the lingering rush of blood her smile caused to flood his face. It's an odd sensation. During all his years as HYDRA's Asset, he never blush, he's sure of that. And all the blushing he has done since his return from the darkness didn't feel like this at all. The soft shape of her lips when she smiled at him... An urge Bucky hasn't felt in a very long time stirs somewhere deep inside of him. It's not feral or aggressive, just... warm. Tiny, but warm. It has always been there in the oppressed depths of his tortured humanity, he realises as he allows himself to be reacquainted with the little spark after all those years as a stove away in his own mind. The Asset repressed and ignored it for so long it almost withered, but now that it has Bucky's attention again it's determined to make up for all the lost time. It screams and cries at him, demanding to be fed, revelling in the brief second her hand touched his as he handed her back the pills. Because that's what it is, this need, it's what it craves: touch. Not just any kind of touch, but the certain gentle and soft kind only an intimate partner can provide. Affection. Desire. Loving kisses and caresses long into the night. Bucky has to stop running and close his eyes so hard the world keens. Even with eyes shut, her face is clear as day. He rubs his eyes as if that might make her go away. Then he takes a few deep breaths, shakes his head and takes off around the lake faster than before. It's usually not something he does in public, sprinting like that. He's too fast for people not to notice something is different about him. But right now, all he cares about is getting the image of the girl out of his mind again. It feels unnatural, the way he can't seem to let her go. God, he even remembers her nail polish with little yellow hearts on each meticulously shaped nail. He groans in frustration and pushes himself to run even faster. Hell, it's still early and there are not a lot of people around to see him. After having been around the lake so many times he has completely lost count, Bucky is actually sweating and maybe a little more clear-headed - though not a lot, he thinks, biting the inside of his cheek. He slows to a jog and takes another few rounds at a more civilised pace, trying to look at the trees this time. They're lush and green and almost a little menacing in the early daylight, but he prefers them to the sinister high-rises jutting up from the asphalt all over the city like a sea of mismatched teeth reaching to chew at the sky. Trees in parks have no such appetites. They bloom and grow and shed their leaves in the winter even when they are trimmed or cut down to half their size. The city isn't regulated that way. It reaches up and down and out, devouring the land little by little until, he imagines, the entire globe has become a single gargantuan metropolis, glittering artificially in the big black nothingness of space. Will there still be trees left then? The young James Barnes loved the city with all its sizzling technology and promise of wonders beyond belief. This older, damaged version of him is less thrilled. He prefers the trees. The subject of vegetation actually manages to take his mind off the girl and distract him for as long as it takes him to wander into the coffee shop he sometimes stops by before going back. There is nothing wrong with drinking coffee back at the compound, but this way he has more time to himself. Away from Stark. Away from Steve. And today he figures he needs the extra minutes. The old-fashioned bell chimes above the door when he enters. It is the only thing he registers before he finds himself in front of the counter and face to face with... her. Bucky's world freezes on its axis.

 [TRANSMISSION]

ORION: MISSION STATUS

ALHABOR: ASSET LOCATED. PATTERN OBSERVED. ESTABLISH CONTACT? ORION: PROCEED ACCORDING TO PLAN ORION: COMPLETE REPORT VIA SAFER CHANNEL ALHABOR: UNDERSTOOD ORION: HAIL HYDRA ALHABOR: HAIL HYDRA

Sam’s voice pulls your head left and you smile as soon as your eyes land on his cheerful face. He stands, his hands extended out as you walk toward him, falling into his chest, “Brother.”

“Baby sister! It’s been too long, city girl.” He kisses your forehead.

“You shouldn’t have moved out to bum-fuck. We could see each other more.” You smile back, your eyes still scanning the rough group around you, “I mean, this is certainly a change.”

Your brother was once a financial advisor, a partner at his firm. He drove an Audi, wore Armani suits on Saturdays, and wouldn’t leave the house without at least six or seven hundred dollars in cash, just in case something came up. A year ago, he gave it all up; quit his job, sold his car, and bought a farm in bum fuck Texas. He made new friends too, one’s who frequent the hell hole your currently standing in. 

His laughter fills your ears. At least that hasn’t changed, “Stop lookin’ like that. You’re fine.”

“I feel like I’m gonna get lynched if I’m not careful.”

“Stop!” He laughs, bringing his beer to his lips, “You’re such a racist.”

Your mouth drops open as you push your finger into your chest, “I’m the racist? Really? They’ve probably never seen real black people before in their lives!”

He shrugs, “They don’t bother me and I’ve been coming here for a year. Sit down, shut up, and drink your beer, yuppie.”

You soon relax, as much as you can anyway, and share a few beers with your brother. You speak about your parents, off in Europe for the summer, your job, which you hate, and your love life, nonexistent. Sam’s met a pretty little farmer, Wanda, who’ll be joining the two of you in a while. You’re happy for him. He really seems happy out here in bum-fuck. 

You’re on your fourth beer, spinning it slowly on the wooden table as drops of condensation slide down the neck of the bottle. Sam jokes and laughs with an older man, his long beard braided down to his bellybutton, chains hanging from his black leather vest. 

“Sam Wilson, how the fuck are you?” 

A new voice sounds from behind your brother, causing you both to turn toward it. Your lips part slightly as your eyes widen at the sight of this new man. He’s young, probably your age, his long dark hair pulled back into a low bun, loose tendrils falling around his face. He’s dressed in a leather jacket, black shirt and dark jeans, heavy boots covering his feet. Tattoos slither up his neck, a single gold earring hangs from his earlobe. His square chin and jaw is covered in a light stubble as he slaps hands with your brother and pulls him into a hug.

“Bucky Barnes! Long time no see.” Sam turns slightly, nudging you with his arm, “This is my baby sister.”

When the stranger shifts his eyes to you, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You push hair behind your ear, dropping your eyes from him to the floor, your nerves making you laugh lightly. You flick your eyes back up to him to find him still staring at you, his face set seriously. You look away again. Something about him make you nervous.

“You got a name?” He asks after a second, his voice low.

You nod quickly, tucking more hair behind your ear, “Yeah, um, S-Sao-Saoirse.” You keep nodding, “Saoirse.”

He quirks his eyebrow, dropping his chin slightly, peering at you through his dark eyelashes, “Saoirse?”

“Mom and dad found out they were pregnant with her while vacationing in Ireland.” Sam adds, smirking at you, “But, just like her name, she’s a real weirdo.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” You scoff, swatting at his arm and rolling your eyes. 

Bucky lets his eyes linger on you for a second or two more, before finally shifting his gaze back to your brother.  You drop your head, letting out air from between your teeth as you pick at the label on your beer bottle. Heat rises in your cheeks as you shift again, suddenly more nervous than you had been all night. You glance up again and catch his eyes on you, staring at you with no emotion on his face or in his eyes. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as your lips part again. Sam and a few others talk and laugh around the two of you, Bucky using their distraction to size you up. His piercing gaze drops from your face to your exposed legs as you sit with them crossed. He drags his eyes slowly up the length of your legs and licks his lips, his head cocking to the side. You push your hands down to your knees and calves, trying to cover them as much as you can. You clear your throat, moving your eyes around the bar again, hoping someone will pull his attention away from you. 

You can’t help but slide your eyes back to him after a few seconds. He’s graduated up to your chest, not giving a damn that he’s making you uncomfortable. You move in your seat again, letting out a shaky breath as you pull the lapels of your jean jacket over one another. You’re suddenly cursing your choice of outfit, a low cut mustard yellow sundress, the one that if course barely covers your ass when you stand. If you lean forward enough, your breasts are on full display, if not spilling out of the garment entirely.

A devilish smile curls on his face as he snaps his eyes back up to yours. He rolls his head to the opposite side of his neck, the quick flash of humanity he showed falling from his face. Despite his eyes being a brilliant blue, there’s nothing but darkness in them as he ogles you. They dip to your chest again, his tongue farting out to sweep across his bottom lip. His mouth drops open and he presses his tongue against the back of his teeth. Slowly, provocatively, he sticks his tongue out, licking his upper lip as he gawks at you. You stand from the wooden barstool quickly, pulling at the bottom of your dress, pretending to not feel his cold stare on you.

“You okay?” Sam asks, turning his body toward you.

“Yeah, yeah, I just uh,” You stammer, “I just need the bathroom.”

Sam points toward the back of the bar and you take off without another word, clasping your jacket shut as move through people. You slam the rickety bathroom door behind you and lean up against it, closing your eyes and tilting your head toward the ceiling. You wave your hand at your face, trying to create some sort of quick breeze to cool you down. You start to shake as sweat prickles on the surface of your skin, holy shit.

You push away from the door and turn on the faucet, running your hands underneath the stream of water. You pat your face and neck with your wet fingers and dab at your skin with a paper towel before taking a step back to eye your reflection. You button up your jacket, covering your cleavage completely, and tuck more hair behind your ears. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, and reach for the door, pulling it open. You take a step or two before two hands grab you from behind. Within a second, you’re slammed up against the opposite wall, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. 

Your mouth drops open as you stare back into the all too familiar pair of eyes of Bucky Barnes. You breathe heavily, your body starting to shake again as he places a hand by your head on the wall behind you. He doesn’t speak. He just stares at you, his lips ever so slightly quirked up in a smirk as his eyes travel up and down your face. He’s so close his nose brushes against yours, his hot, beer laden breath washing over your face. 

He pulls back just enough to bring his beer to his lips. You let out audible breaths as he takes a swig of the cool liquid, his eyelids low as he keeps his eyes on you. He licks his lips once he’s finished, leaning back into you, his stubble brushing against your chin as he pins you to the wall. 

“Saoirse.” Your name comes out slow and heavy.

You close your eyes, nodding as you swallow hard, “Yes.”

Bucky brings the beer back to his mouth, taking another drink. He turns his head to glance back at your table, Sam mostly, before bringing his full attention back to you. He brings his hand up and grabs some of your hair, running his fingers through it before playing with the ends. Fear rises in your chest as you break eye contact with him to stare over his shoulder. He leans in, pushing your head to the right with his nose as he takes a deep breath, filling his nostrils with your perfume and shampoo.

“You smell nice.”

You swallow again, your stomach rising into your throat as your breath becomes quick and harsh, “Th-thank you.”

He spreads your legs with his knee, pushing his lower half into yours as his fingers leave your hair. He drops his index finger to your chin before dragging it down your neck and chest before hooking it into your jacket. He lifts his eyes back toward yours, and smiles again. You blink furiously, your lip quivering as tears threaten to splash against your cheeks. 

“Aww,” He coos condescendingly, “What’s wrong sugar?” You drop your head as much as you can, but his finger catches your chin, pushing it up harshly, “You don’t have manners? Answer me.”

“You’re scaring me.” You croak, your voice choppy and rushed as your lips tremble.

A tear makes it escape, sliding down your cheek slowly as you do everything you can to avoid eye contact with him. He cocks his head again and bites his bottom lip as another smile breaks onto his face. He’s enjoying this. He chuckles before humming quickly in happiness. He swipes at the tear with his thumb, brushing it away in one swift motion before running his calloused hand down your cheek. He grabs your chin and squeezes, forcing your head back straight so you can look at him. You whimper, and you swear you feel his dick twitch against your thigh. 

“Yo Buck! How about a game of pool, huh?”

He snaps his head toward the voice and you take the opportunity to slide out from him. You walk quickly back to the table occupying your none-the-wiser brother, wrapping your arms around your waist, keeping your head down. 

You grab your keys and start for the door, but Sam grabs your wrist, “Hey, hey, where you goin’?”

You force a smile on your face, glancing up at him, hoping your watery eyes don’t give you away, “I’m kinda tired, Sam.”

“Oh, come on, it’s early still! Wanda isn’t even here yet, I want you to meet her.”

“I can meet her in the morning. I am staying the weekend, you know.” You answer quickly, shifting your eyes toward Bucky, who know leans over a pool table. He stands up straight, lighting a cigarette before he catches your gaze, “Sam, please.”

Your brothers dark eyes bounce between yours, his forehead crunching as he squints, “Are you okay?”

You smile wider, trying to convince him. Your eyes dart to Bucky, then back to Sam, “Yes.”

He turns away from you, his eyes scanning the people around you, “Did someone touch you? I swear to fuck, I’ll-”

“Sam, I’m fine.” You reassure him, ignoring the constant leer of your unwanted companion, “I’ll see you back at your place, ok?”

Sam squints again but finally relents, leaning in and kissing your check, “Text me when you get there?”

You smile, moving out of Bucky’s eye line, “Of course.”

You move back outside, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you head straight to your car. You’re almost there, pulling out the hand that grasps your keys. You hear the door click as it unlocks, and you reach for the door handle, feeling the metal under your fingertips. You stop, closing your eyes as a cool Texas breeze whips around you. You let out a breath, then suck in some air again. It’s only then do you realize the dampness between your legs. 

You open your eyes, staring over the top of your car into the dim lit parking lot. You shift and squeeze your thighs together, a sharp jolt of electricity shooting through you. The fear in your chest, your shaky limbs, your dry mouth ass start to confuse you as the symptoms twist and turn into something else. This is arousal. The ghost feeling of his stubble on your skin makes your stomach tighten as your clit begins to ache. The rough denim of his jeans that rubbed against the inside of your thigh as he pinned you to the wall with his body makes your chest swell with lust and panic. 

The entire scene was oddly erotic. His hot beer breath, his hand squeezing your face, the tears that threatened to spill… you’d never felt this way before. You’ve never had attention forced on you before. In the moment, it was terrifying but now? You’re body obviously doesn’t seem to mind. 

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts away as you try and snap back to your senses. This isn’t right. What happened to you in there, wasn’t right. You shouldn’t feel this way. You flush with embarrassment, feeling it in the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You feel dirty for even entertaining it. 

You pull on the door handle, pulling it open when suddenly, you’re violently pushed back into it. You’re whipped around, coming face to face with your attacker. You struggle against him, slapping and pushing, but to no avail. He grabs your hands and pins them to behind you to your car, his large hand clasping both your wrists.

“I’m gonna scream Bucky!” You warn, “I mean it!”

“The fuck you will.” He hisses, grabbing your chin. 

Audible breaths fall from your mouth as your eyes bounce wildly between his. You don’t scream. You just stand there, pinned up against your car panic swells in your chest. Bucky peers back at you for a few seconds, before crashing his lips to yours. You groan loudly, trying to turn your head from side to side to get away from his invasive mouth. He pulls you from the car before he slams you back into it with a thud, pushing his leg between yours once more as you scream tightly. 

He pulls back with a loud smack, leaving your mouth open as you drag in deep breaths of air. Your lips are swollen from the hard kiss, wetness splashing against your thighs as your arousal grows from the terror. Bucky stares back at you, a wild, dangerous look in his eye. He drops his line of sight to your jacket before lifting his eyes back to you, his own breath ragged as his chest rises and falls a little harder and faster. He tightens his grip on your hands before reaching up to violently rip open your jacket, the small silver buttons falling to the ground as they break. 

He digs his hand into the top of your dress, pushing his fingers along your skin until they graze over your thick nipple. You hiss as he pinches the thick skin harshly, slamming your eyes shut as the sudden pain rips through you. He brings his hot mouth to your neck, sucking on your skin as his tongue darts out to lick at you. 

He bites down without warning, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You push your hips into his as you let out a long, fluid moan.You bite your bottom lip as you begin to grind your hips against his thigh, your clit throbbing at the sensation of the denim. Bucky pulls back again, pulling your weight from the car and dragging you to the passengers side so he can keep his eye on the door of the bar.

He pushes you back against the car, grabbing your thigh and lifting it to crane your leg around his hip. His fingers reach underneath your dress, skimming along your soaked satin panties, another chuckle rumbling through his chest, “So fucking wet baby.” He mumbles. 

He pulls the pale blue underwear from your waist harshly, ripping them totally. He stuffs the remnants of the material into his back pocket before unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his hard cock free. He slams into you without warning. You cry out, craning your head toward the sky as you throw your hands around his neck and shoulders to help steady yourself. Bucky covers your mouth with his hand, silencing you as he pulls out and slams back into you again. 

“Don’t make a fucking sound. Hear me?”

His pace is fast and unforgiving as you groan into the palm of his hand. You bounce with his rhythm, your back sliding up and down the door of your car as he fucks you. You hold tightly onto his leather jacket as he leans into you, scratching at your jawline with his teeth. He sinks his teeth into your neck again and not even his palm can stifle the sound that erupts from you. It’s low and guttural, almost animalistic as the pain shoots through you. 

The sound draws a scratchy grunt from Bucky, his hand slipping from your mouth and up into your hair, “Didn’t I tell you to keep your filthy mouth shut?” He asks, pulling your hair roughly.

You stifle the scream that scratches at your throat from the pain that prickles in your scalp. His hips continue to push into you, rough and fast, his thickness spreading and stretching your muscles as you feel each thrust in your stomach. A hand wraps around your neck, putting pressure on your airway as the other slinks around your waist. His fingernails scratch at your skin as he digs his digits into your flesh, squeezing so hard that you know you’ll have bruises after.

You feel dizzy; chills flood your body as your release begins to build. Jolts of electricity bounce within your stomach, your muscles tightening and flexing with every stroke. You dig your fingers into the leather of his jacket as tears slide down your cheeks from the force of his hips. He rocks into you again and your orgasm erupts, coursing through you with reckless abandon. 

Your clit pulses as your walls clench around him. Liquid drips down your thighs as you come and splashes on the gravel below your foot. Within seconds, Bucky spurts into you, filling your sex with hot, white ribbons of his seed. He falls against you, the stubble on his cheeks cutting into your face and neck as you both breathe heavily. 

You stand motionless, Bucky still buried to his hilt in your wetness, your leg still thrown around his hip. You stare out onto the parking lot, the gravity of what just happened heating your skin. Your hands fall to your sides as he leans back, removing his weight from your body. He pulls out of you unceremoniously and tucks himself back into his jeans, dropping your leg. You link eyes with him, your face hot with embarrassment and shame, your limbs shaky as he peers back at you. 

Without a word, he walks off back toward the bar, digging into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out with his teeth, stopping and turning slightly as he lifts his hands to cover the tip with one and flicking open his gold lighter with the other. Another tear slips down your cheek as you watch him, frozen in your fear as he lights the cigarette. He cuts his eyes back toward you, expels a puff of smoke, and then turns away, moving back inside the bar. 

You clutch your jacket in your fingers, covering your chest as you hurry back to the drivers side and fall into the seat. You slam the door closed and grip the steering wheel with both hands as water floods your eyes. You let out deliberate, shaky breaths as your vision tunnels in front of you. You close your eyes, flexing your fingers as you try and calm down. 

So fucking wet, baby.

When a merchant took your money and told you of a divine man who hunted without care, you listened – and kept your cat in whenever the sun was not at her highest. Woodland creatures you rehabilitated and travelers looking for rest were sequestered within your walls until you felt it was safe. If you had to leave your home (as you often did) you refused to travel alone, preferring to starve than die at the hands of some ruthless beast. The light of day, the heat from a fire, the illumination from a torch – you trusted it all to keep you from a harm you felt was preventable.

When a fortune teller read your cards and spoke of a demiurge who threatened the peace of your home, you listened – and used every moment of every step as a way to prevent conflict. You gave what you could of whichever soul asked for it, you never disturbed the ground, you kept to yourself. Your voice remained undersized, your movements diminutive. A camp four miles away called you wee, the fortune teller called you cautious, you called it survival.

But none of that, nothing you had done or prepared or pushed to the forefront of your mind seemed to matter as you were being chased through the thickest set of trees you’d ever seen by a pack of wolves (werewolves, no less) who had spotted a way to broaden their gene pool and stalked you til dusk. Each press of your bare feet to the hardened ground forced bits of bark and bone into the callous flesh; normally you’d wail at such anguish, but the blood pumping in your ears drowns out any of your nerve’s attempts at reaching your bran. While you wince at each point of contact, the pain never seems to come.

From behind you their howls of laughter hit the trees and then your eardrums, a reminder that for them this is a game. Their idea of said game going poorly is if they do not catch you, if they cannot drag you back to their settlement as a token of their hard work.

It seems as quickly as your hunt for food had gone sour you’re plucked from the freezing ground and tossed into a barren field, slammed into the ground as your shoulders continue to rise and while your heart continues to beat at a rabbit’s pace, your eyes moving faster than the organ as they take in the scene in front of them.

Your thoughts are quick, like the blood in your veins.

Rolling hills. Crops. Yellow Crops. Deep yellow crops. Corn? Dead crops. Still cold. No snow. Yes ice. Stones, under you. Small stones. Broken stones. Bad dirt. Bad crops. Bad yield. No settlements. Sky dark. Feet hurt. Still cold. Feet really hurt.

The distinct sound of a boot digging into the ground makes you turn around, knife in your corset drawn with a shaking, aching hand.

In front of you, a man. A man in shoes meant for winter. A man dressed in dark clothes. A man with a large chest that rises slowly, slowling, slower. A man with golden skin, as deep as the flora around you. long, dirty beard. A man with long, dirty hair. A man with a set of horns that curl like a ram but peak like the blade in your palm. A man who towers over you. A man who looks less like a man as your eyes focus, but his form doesn’t become clearer.

The man is the first to speak, his lips thick and turned up into a sinister looking smile.

“What’s a little thing like you strolling alone in these woods?” His voice flows like honey with each step of gravel as he circles you. You’ve seen vultures spot prey with less purpose as his gruff laughs bring thick clouds of condensation, which fill the air between you and him. “Big, mean wolves prowl these very woods, looking for cute little things like you to prey on.”

You try to swallow what little spit remains in your dry mouth, but it seems the only thing in your throat is a thick knot of fear. Stuck in place from terror alone, each cell that makes up your body is more frozen than the ice hanging from the bare branches above you.

“I- “you’re momentarily distracted by a twig snapping in the distance. “I’m not that small!” The man (if he even is a man) laughs, loud enough to make you flinch (of course that’s all I can do, you curse yourself. Can’t run away, but can flinch at some fucking laughter.) “In these forests you are. You’re a pretty little toy for all the packs that try to stake their claim here. It’s useless, they’ll never succeed, but that sure doesn’t stop them from trying.”

Your heart beats faster than you’ve ever felt before, each painful expansion of your ribcage syncing with the blood pounding in your ears. “Wh-what happened to them?” He cocks an eyebrow. “What happened to who?”

You speak again, a little louder. “What happened to the packs, why haven’t they laid claim to this territory?”

His broad chest shakes as he chuckles at your insolence. “Because I already have.”

Your heart quickens again. “But you’re only one man,” another twig snap, another sound ignored as a different kind of fear rises in your abdomen. “How can you overpower those powerful packs, they’ve formed a coalition – the village hasn’t stopped talking about it – there’s at least a hundred of them altogether, I-”

An answer comes after a beat of heavy silence, though the tension of waiting seems better than the truth that comes all too quickly. “Because yappy puppies can’t usurp a god,” he hisses.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.

Thor, the god you’ve been petrified of since you were a child, has been the guard of this forest and everything in it for a millennium. In like fashion to other sprawling hills and tall trees, he beckons in the seasons and calms the bears into hibernation and tells the snow when to melt. Thor is the life of the forest, attuned to the air every living breathes day in and day out. Yet he’s incomparable to his benevolent siblings, hungrier and more desperate and willing to throw away his duties to sink his jowls into anything unpardonable. This god is jaded, exhausted of the mind-numbing monotonous work of running the home of so many creatures; like knife dropped in the dirt, he threatens even the ones who step careful as marksmen watch their targets.

For a few moments you think your mouth will release a quip, a sarcastic response that would get you killed, or worse. Somehow your lips stay still, warming as each pant releases hot, white puffs into the cold night air.

There’s fear in your eyes and it permeates the air around you. The god’s nostrils flare as the pheromones hit his nose.  In a far corner of your brain you wonder what it smells like – such a strong emotion. Is it thick and sweet? Does it coat his tongue the same of when you bake fresh bread? Or is it deep and revolting – the smell of one’s soul decomposing before the corresponding body’s gone cold.

He steps closer.

You wince. “Please- “

He laughs like he’s watched a child fall to the ground in a field. “What? Are you scared?”

The word leaves his lips much slower than the others, like thick syrup in his mouth. Guess your fear is a much sweeter scent than expected.

“Should I not be?” The defiance in your voice comes like the wolf that bursts through the thinning trees behind you.

With the air knocked out of your lungs and each muscle stunned into inertness, there’s not much you can do but watch the god as you’re dragged away while two wolves trail behind you.

The grey sunlight fades as the flora becomes thicker, and for a hundred or so yards you feel as if your life is crumbling around you. But soon with the shadows from the trees comes the realization of familiarity.

Their faces – their snouts, eyes, ears, fur – they’re one you’d seen before. They’re the same ones from the small fairy circle down the way from your cabin, where you’d been trying to find something to eat besides dry mint leaves and crunchy bread.

These aren’t the wolves from the coalition near the village, these aren’t those nasty wolves who steal and plunder and take without end, these aren’t the wolves who chased you into the arms of the god who previously stood before you.

This is something worse…so much worse.

You’ve housed some of them, their yellow eyes and pink snouts have been fixtures of your spare room – you’ve stitched their paws and rubbed salve into their poison ivy rashes and brushed matts from their thick fur.

As one of them jumps on top of you – one you recognize from the scar you’d helped heal after a hawk had attempted to take out his eye – you can feel another pry your arms flat above you and two others hold your legs apart.

His long, wet tongue traces from your shoulder to your temple, his snout breathing hot air onto your feverish skin.

“I’ve been waiting to do this,” his voice is muffled, as if you’re talking to a person resting at the bottom of the sea. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to do this since I saw you and your brow furrowed with worry at that wound the wicked bird left upon me.”

He nudges under your jaw, grazing his sharp teeth across the fragile skin above your jugular as he pants.

If your hands were free, if your lips could move, you’d push him away and call him some mutt in heat, spit in his face and kick him away and run until you could not see the wretched creatures and they could not see you and the distance would make you forget everything that had and would happen and you never would have to think of their paws clawing at your body again and…

And…

“Stay the fuck away from her,” the god from before snarls from behind his teeth. The wolves, now thrown more than a hundred yards away from you, are nearly frozen in fear and realization that their plan has taken a toll for the worst. Your hands dig into the earth in an attempt to gain footing, but you can barely hold yourself up on your elbow as your vision spins. “If I find you again I will rip your heart from your thoracic cavity and leave you all to be found by the rest of your pitiful kind, do you understand?”

The wolves do not nod, but they also do not stay. Within an instant, you find yourself blessedly alone and then cursedly close to the very thing you fear the most.

“Why don’t I take you back home?” Thor whispers, watchful as you finally pick yourself up from the mud and moss. Bits of twigs and leaves and crushed bugs litter the light fabric, but you make no effort to remove it from your person – none of that matters when he locks eyes with you, blown pupils glittering with something you can’t place.

Still, with chest heaving and hands shaking, you lead him back to your homestead.

It’s not a long trek through the woods, yet Thor’s breath is audible like a deer sprinting from a pack of canids. You question nothing, though, absolutely nothing as you lead him on the winding, invisible path that leads you less than a stone’s throw away from the entrance.

You don’t say anything as you pull away, not a promise nor gratitude nor acknowledgement of his actions. The silence from you is met with Thor tugging your back to his front and wrapping your arms around you.

“I think you should thank me,” he coos. In the window of your dwelling is your cat, eyes wide in fear as she paces. She knows something is wrong, something bad is happening. But she doesn’t know how to fix it. “For protecting you.”

Some parts of you – maybe a few ribs, the bottom of your spine, your dry mouth – know what he wants. Behind your eyes you see images of you, him, your large bed. Of your small, begotten frame under his large form as he takes what he desires.

Some part of your brain, the logical side, knows you should feel fearful at this massive beast laying you down onto your worn, soft sheets. The other part, though, feels a particular heat flood your center and between your legs.

“And what is it that comprises such appreciation?” you ask, still facing your home as the god lingers behind you. Your breath – already shaky and shallow – hitches as one of his clawed fingers pushes aside your thick hair to expose the smooth skin of your neck. He places such small, light kisses there that for a moment you believe it was simply whispers of wind from the night, but once sharpened teeth graze your heartbeat you’re aware of the affections being his.

“Oh, little pet,” at his words your eyes shut on their own accord, and your bottom lip finds itself between your top and bottom teeth in the same fashion. “We both know what I want.”

You gulp, trying to find verbal footing as he begins to kiss down the back of your neck to the top of your spine. For a moment you try to speak, but it seems with each attempted sentence his hands move closer and closer to undoing the ties that keep your shift from falling off of you.

The god leads you into your home with a large hand pressed into the small of your back, and into your bedroom as if he had been there before, as if he had memorized the hallways in your home from years of spending time there; as if he was some constant fixture of your household.

The yards and yards worth of fabric from blankets and pillows alike have only ever smelled like you; pockets of your pesky familiar here and there maybe, but nothing that cannot be overpowered by a good night’s rest. It’s a comfort after a long day, something familiar and comforting.

As Thor lowers himself onto the edge of your bed you fear the stench of him will never leave you. A candle of doubt in you wonders if this is a bad thing.

With no hardship he pulls you to him, like a suitor inviting a debutante to be a partner in a waltz – though, this feels less like a dance as each second passes, your heavy breathing akin to a kidnapping than some public displays unadulterated affection.

“It’s cold out here in these woods,” he whispers to you. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine as his hands pet over your shaking form. “I must admit, it would be nice to have a toasty little thing like you to help keep me warm in such a chill.”

You shiver, hoping this behemoth does not mean what you think he means. Alas, as he pushes your long, wild hair to the side to expose the tender skin of your neck – your wildest fears bubble to the surface of your flesh. It’s his hands, so calloused they feel like bark, that manhandle you in the gentlest way possible into a position that makes your face burn hotter than a bonfire.

You’re in his lap now, spine pressed to sternum with him towering over you. For a moment you feel safe in his embrace, his larger-than-life stature making you feel like some protected child. It isn’t until he’s tearing at your clothes with a loud rrrrrrrip that you understand how little this creature truly cares for you. Still, it’s hard not to feel like some fragile, blown-glass vase from the village beyond the mountains, where boys with similarly rough, burnt hands create the most beautiful little sculptures you wish you could afford; an object of which is revered and magnificent, but an object of which holds neither agency nor uniqueness to the rest of the pretty things surrounding it.

It doesn’t occur, in that very moment, that there is no way this god would be cold in the thick of winter – not with heat radiating from him akin to your cat’s fur after being warmed by a particularly warm beam of sunlight. But the deity doesn’t have much need for the truth, not when he’s got your soaked cunt free from its increasingly uncomfortable confines and is tracing the slick up and down the lips between your trembling thighs.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos like a mother lying to her child while pulling a rose thorn from a tiny, smooth foot. “It’ll only hurt a little"

Thor’s hands are huge already, but now they seem omnipresent as he pets over your form. Part of you – the sensible part, the part that guided you through being banished from your family and made you carve out a piece of this expansive, soul-crushing forest – that wants to, or at least wants to try to, push him away; tell him no, stop, please, I’ll do anything.

But nothing, nothing but desperate whimpers, ones you wish were from displeasure, leave your lips.

“You know, gods can still starve,” you gulp as the short, wiry hair that patterns his jaw rubs against the skin of your neck and shoulders. “The fish from rivers and boars from the deeper parts of my forest quiet the growling in my gut, but there is another hunger I need satiated.”

You remain silent as before, fearful a protest would make your periled situation that much worse for pitiful little you.

He grips between your legs, palm flat against the hottest part of you, his own hand rough against your own silky folds. As you squeak from the contact Thor laughs deep in his broad chest, leaning down to nibble at the edge of your hot ear. “This piece of fruit will do,” you gasp as a single, thick finger enters your dripping heat. “I love a good juicy peach. You’re absolutely dripping for me, aren’t you?”

Again, he is met with silence. Never one to be deterred, he slips another finger into you. “Humans are so cute,” he purrs. “You all think you’re so strong, always fighting wars that never end and death that always comes. It seems the things you can never resist are a good fight, a good fuck,” a pregnant pause fills your bedroom as he crooks his fingers just right, soliciting the desperate whimper he’s wanted since he spotted you in the woods all those hours ago. “And me.”

He fucks his digits in and out you with slow motions, ones that drive you to the brink of madness. You’ve never been one to coo and moan so unabashedly, to let yourself fall apart so easily for someone who holds so much pure power over you. If you weren’t already vulnerable, you would be now – for as assuredly that the sun rises in the East and you wake up soaked in blood every some thirty days, this man, this god will look down on you and understand how little you can do to fend him, his advances, his charm, from your trembling body.

Thor lays down on your sea of blankets, leaving you feeling empty without his touch. A smug look paints his face as he waits for you to climb up his chest, but you do not move, simply peering at him with a heaving chest and feverish cheeks. Your mind wavers, wondering if his horns will tear into the fabric that paints your bed – but you do not have much time for such frivolous thoughts before they are interrupted once again.

“I wasn’t asking,” he tells you pointedly. “Now, come provide me with the sustenance I so desire.”

Sans your dress, moving up the length of his body is relatively easy. As he grips your hips and lowers you down to his mouth you wish you had some sort of obstruction, some reason to resist the god below you.

No such luck. As before, you are unimaginably vulnerable to Thor and his ways.

He begins with light kisses on the inside of your thighs, still tense and desperate to run away. Thor seems to notice this but does nothing to soothe you and your resistance – he understands much better than you how much he holds above your foolish head.

It doesn’t take long for you to forget your plan of escape, the path of freedom dissipating in the pleasure pooling from your scalp to the nailbeds of your toes. This god is nothing if not skilled, wide strokes of his tongue and nips at your innermost thigh and kisses on your sensitive nub soon having you rutting against his face like a dog in heat, like the wolves from before. Your hands try to find purchase in his wild hair, but with the horns in the way it’s easier to wrap your own fingers around the keratin masses than dig your fingernails into the scalp of the man below you.

You wonder if you’d have considered them less such wild beasts if you knew this was the pleasure they were chasing. Would have not run so quickly if you, too, understood the magic building in your core as you balance yourself against the wall your bed leans against. When Thor leaves you, would the animals accept your contrition and give you the same pleasure this god is? Or would you be left to chase a high no mortal could gift you?

It’s trail of thought cut short by him bullying three of his fingers into you as his lips suck at you, your screams filling every empty bit of air in your homestead. As your own yelps of pleasure fill your ears you cannot sort what is babble and what is tongues, what are incoherent syllables and what are pleas to celestial beings to never leave you.

These, too, are soon muffled, Thor making quick work of your mute state to flip you onto your stomach and propping your ass up toward him. “You know,” he says mostly to himself, knowing his words will fall on ears deaf from ringing. “The Christians who pass through my forest often speak of how the original woman was tempted with an apple and I never believed their silly tales.”

He pauses a moment to trace his fingertips up the ridges of your spine before grabbing at the base of your hair. You yelp, but he ignores you.

“But now…” his unoccupied hand comes down to SMACK at your ass, eliciting another squeak. “Now I feel able to comprehend how such a person could be tempted by the prospect of such delicious sin.”

Too far gone to be ashamed now, you push back against him in hopes of reprieve from your suffering. Without much further wait Thor enters you slow and steady, the one hand still in your hair while the other grips your hip. Thor’s bigger, much bigger than your fingers or the occasional drifter, and your walls and scream the unfamiliar girth.

The man behind you does nothing to soothe you, merely hissing into the cold night air. “God, you little witch,” he grunts behind grit teeth. “Maybe it was worthwhile saving you from those wretched wolves.”

Your mouth hangs open and your lips remain mute, your hands grasping at the sheets until they become impossible to open up again. Nothing, not a single sound of yours, bounces form the walls – merely Thor’s loud grunts and the sound of his skin slapping against yours. It isn’t until his fingers release your hair and move to your neglected clit that you begin to sing for him, screams out of tune and sharp but still smooth music to his ears.

“Yes,” he moans, feeling you contract around him. “Yes you temptress, cum on my cock, fuck let me bring you to your peak.”

How could anyone refuse that? Certainly not you, the spell-caster who was saved by this magnificent, sympathetic creature with a heart of gold and pure intentions. The tight coil in your organs releases with a shout from you and a deep groan from Thor, who continues to fuck into you as you collapse and become limp under his touch. He reaches he peak quickly, stilling for a moment before flipping you over again.

You move easily under his touch, dead weight instead of some feisty, feral little lamb with too much fight in her. On your back, he spreads your legs once again, moving to revere your swollen cunt and his thick seed dripping out of you.

It reminds you of when the artists in the villages step back when they’re finished with their works, admiring their handiwork and talent. You recognize that same affection of progress and of a finished piece in Thor’s eyes, the focused, blown pupils trained on the white trailing down to your sheets and the corners of his mouth turning up into a small, satiated smile. He’s some paragon of silent pride, one hand moving up and down your folds before pushing his seed back into you.

“Beautiful,” Thor whispers, kissing where you are most sensitive once more before moving to lay beside you. The world spins around you as he pulls you into his broad chest, his heart thumping dull in the ear pressed to his heaving ribs.

You say nothing to the contrary, succumbing to sleep like a babe after a long feeding.

orThor disappears just as he entered, confidently and without much fuss. You wake up alone, more alone than you did that morning, surrounded by the very scent of him. Somehow, as the sun comes over the horizon, it’s enough.

Over the next few weeks, everything mostly returns to normal. You go through the ebb and flow of your routine; watching over your territory, eyeing the dark of the night each time the wind made the trees move like children listening to songs around a bonfire. Sometimes the swaying calms you as you clutch a cup of mint tea in your trembling hands, but others it mirrors the churning of your stomach.

‘Erik, please, it’s just one session, and we were in a relationship. I owe him some closure.’

‘No.’

So blunt, so emotionless, so decisive, as if he had just slapped you. It made your blood boil as you stalked to his desk, slamming your hands down on it. ‘You know what? I don’t need your fucking permission. I will teach that session and have that chat with him. You can’t stop me.’ Stating defiantly, you glared at him.

‘’You will stay here, by my side because I demand it of you.’ He had enough, snapping at you as he seated himself, opening a new file, irritated at the same argument happening for the umpteenth time.

‘Demand it of me? I’m about to be married to you. I’m not one of the servants you just order around to do your bidding.’

Erik looks up at her, now Killmonger; his eyes cold and unforgiving. ‘I said it once, I will not repeat it again. You are to remain by my side, even if I have to chain you to me. You will not be going anywhere near Barnes. Have I made myself clear?’

You whirled away, about to search for Bucky to tell him that she would accept his offer when a sudden warm, large hand catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Turning to argue with her love, your words catch in your throat at the sight of him seething; an anger you hadn’t ever seen before in his eyes.

‘You will do as I command, no excuses.’ He hisses at you as you tried to wrench free from his grasp.

‘Erik, what the fuck?! Let go!’

‘Swear upon me, that you will not see Barnes. Not that pitiful excuse of a home.’

That stung more than you would ever care to admit. Bucky had given you a home, a family; the Avengers and he knew that. Or, you thought he understood it. ‘Well, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you settled for the first woman to come across you and that you have to marry someone of a lower caste than you.

‘I never said those words. Y/N, stop this madness now.’

You continued struggling against his tight grip. ‘You’re thinking it. Why did I settle for her?’

He yanked on your wrist hard, pulling you against his chest. ‘If I hadn’t come around, you would have been raped or worse, sold for the whore you were mistaken for!’

There was a sharp crack, as a still silence descended as the acting king of Wakanda stumbled back, his eyes wide and fearful. In his surprise, he released your wrist; his eyes focusing on you like he was seeing you properly in weeks.

‘Kitten, I’m so sorry.’ He whispered, horror lacing his voice as he closes the gap between you two.

‘Stay away from me! Every single time, when I take my own decision, you always hurt me!’

He reaches for you, ever persistent, cupping your face but you firmly push him away, your vision blurring. Running from the room, tears running down your face; ignoring his pleas for you to stop.

Outside, there is a glint of silver as Bucky shifts from his position, grinning wickedly. Heading towards the gym, knowing he will find his sunshine there. Trouble was brewing in paradise…

*

‘You know, I was thinking, I would lead the class today, you seem a little distracted…’ Leaning behind her, palming her ass, stroking the firm, round flesh like it belonged to him, his metal hand came down one cheek, smacking it hard, licking his lips at the sight of it jiggle as she cried out, tracing the slender waist.

‘Bucky, this isn’t right. Please, stop-.’

Her words died in her throat as he pushed her down to her knees roughly, his flesh hand running across her lower back up to the straps of her sports bra lovingly, before kneeling down, his eyelids fluttering up to reveal icy steel blue eyes, slowly darkening to gun metal blue. They pierced right through her, hedonistic lust swimming in the depths; sending a shiver down her spine as they narrowed, going into full smoulder as she gushed embarrassingly in her leggings.

Palming her full breasts through the thin material ravenously, a single finger circling her nipple as she sucks in a breath; adamantly tugging on the chains binding her to the floor. His gaze was no longer on her face but fixated on the valley between her breasts; his dog tags hanging from her neck, having abruptly ripped off the gold chain Erik had gifted her.

‘From now on, you will only wear my gifts. You will remove his mark, his touch, his little trophies from your body.’ Growling in her ear, she could feel the slight weight of the tags like a manacle around her throat, dragging her down. A tear slipped down her face, astounded at his cruelty.

Swiftly, he brought his hand down again, spanking her hard a few times across each cheek. Hissing in pain, the chain biting down deeply into her skin, leaving angry marks. Wailing out as he reached from behind to twist her nipple roughly with his metal hand, his eyes raking along her body hungrily. She did not allow herself to shudder as he licked his teeth with a snap.

‘Even after all this time, my precious flower is so responsive, so compliant, and so feisty…’ His voice was low and deep, his finger tips edging along the low neck of her bra, scrapping his nails backwards against her belly as it quivered slightly under his touch, before grasping at the front of her bra, pulling her up to her knees making her kneel before yanking on the fabric harshly.

She glared at him, her eyes wide in disbelief as he fully grinned at her as she whined, scuttling away from him as much as she could. He chuckled, pulling more strongly as the fabric gave way, ripping away in half to to reveal her breasts, his initials still tattooed on her left breast; now a vile reminder to her. Without warning, latching his mouth on her nipple, sucking so strongly as he palms her cunt through her leggings, groaning at the stretch of wet fabric. The other forcing her hands behind her back, slapping her again when she squirms.

‘It’s so hot when you fight. Mmm, I always love it when you don’t make it easy for me.’

She wriggles, her shoulders burning slightly in the position, the chains draped across her legs as he spreads her knees open wide, his hands leaving bruises against her hips as he drags her forward slightly, watching her breasts bounce slightly, uncaring as she winces at the floor burning and scraping her knees.

‘I watched you, sneaking out of Killmonger’s room. What business did you have with him, that he would let my sunshine leave in tears?’

His words were soft, casual, but his tone meant anything else, the menace laced behind it making her blink in confusion before being able to grasp the full meaning of what he was implying. If her heart weren't beating fast enough as it is, a pretty but somewhat dangerous smile graced his beautiful features, almost made him look….innocent.

‘James, were you spying on us?’

Touching the small of her back, pressing her chest against his, his metal hand grazed her cheek. It was almost gentle, loving… Cold against her burning skin, she forgot how to breathe, astounded when she felt his breath against her lips. His eyes bore into hers, sparkling so clearly before he brushed her lips lightly with his, ignoring her question.

‘Why do you continue fighting me? Making me hurt you?’

Stroking her bruised cheek, he kissed her again, trying to slide his tongue in, sweeping it across her lips. ‘You know you’re mine, don’t you, sunshine? Erik isn’t right for you. I would never make you cry. Never insult you.’

‘Bucky, we’re over. I’m sorry that I hurt you by moving on, but it’s been five years. I loved you, grieved for you, mourned you and then I had to get a life. Please, let me go. I’ll never tell anyone anything, not even Erik.’

Words coming out in sobs as he pushed her back, mercilessly flicking her nipples one after another, never stopping as the sting increased, her belly shaking under the strain, tears rolling down her cheeks. He slaps her across the face hard, his metal hand dragging through her hair, pulling on it tightly.

‘Never say his name again.’ His tone harsh, brutal, yet he continued grinning maliciously, nudging her chin up with his hand to level emotionless eyes as she nodded, swallowing her winces trying to breathe through the agony as he continues his torturous assault, her nipples slowly turning numb. Shaking his head, he stops, licking at her sore nipples gently, soothing the flesh. He smiles softly, reveling in how hard they’ve become for him.

‘Y/N, remember our always? The way we just held each other for hours, cuddling, stroking each other’s bodies. Why don’t you see? We’re meant to be together, forever. Just like we discussed. Right, let’s talk and maybe I’ll give you the opportunity to redeem yourself.’

Stepping aside, he moves behind her, pushing her down, yanking her hips up to bring her to all fours, palming her ass, admiring the luscious curves, nuzzling his nose against the wet, clothed core of her dripping pussy. Pushing her lower back down, bringing her ass higher up, squeezing and massaging her cheeks, before sliding his hand to rub against her, smirking at the way she automatically bucks her hips, pushing her ass towards him before stilling.

She stares resolutely ahead, her heart thudding as she realises this was no longer the Bucky she had loved once. This Bucky was dark, twisted, corrupted; and in complete denial.

‘Such a fucking slut. Dressed for me, in these tight leggings…’ Continues massaging her butt as she whimpers, trying to move away. But, yet again betrayed by her own cunt when he grabs her hips, keeping her steady as he starts yanking down her leggings. Groaning at the effort to bring them down, cooing at the sight of her drenched pussy.

‘Sunshine, is this all for me? I’m so touched.’ Bites his lips, stroking her glistening lips, near whimpering as he slips in two fingers, spreading her cheeks apart, to gaze at her asshole, lazily curling the fingers, moving them against her sweet spot, watching the muscles in her back tense.

She moans suddenly involuntarily, squeezing her eyes shut as he smirks, licking her clit gently, the barely there flicks driving her insane. Sliding his sopping fingers out, he licks them clean, moaning deeply. ‘Still so sweet, so juice, like the ripest peach pineapple mix I’ve ever encountered.’

Thrusts his tongue in her pussy, smirking smugly when the softest of moans, like music to his ears drops from her lips. Sucking at her juices, he licks broad stripes from her pussy to her ass, playing with the firm muscle as she clenches, trying to stop herself from cumming. Standing up, he yanks down his shorts, giving himself a few broad strokes as she writhes, pulling against the chains, begging him to stop. ‘James, please….not that…not your cock.’

‘Sunshine, don’t make me hurt you again.’ Lining himself against her drenched cunt, he slams his fat cock into her, as she cries out at the burning stretch. Groaning harshly, he begins fucking her brutally, the sight of her ass jiggling with every thrust spurring him on even more, her walls clenching around him, his cock coming out soaking wet as she squirts from every thrust.

‘You say you hate this, that you don’t want this, not with me anymore, yet look at your body. Responding to me, craving me, milking my cock, it knows who it belongs to. Do you?’

His whispered words bring waves of shame upon her as she grits her teeth, tears falling down on the chains as she mewls, her hips grinding against him on their own, heat licking up her body. Ashamed of her own arousal, she bites down on her lip to keep from moaning, the speed of his increased thrusts forcing the breath out of her. The dog tags swing against her chest, hitting her sternum lightly as he yanks her head back, pulling on her hair, chuckling darkly as she clenches around him.

‘You love this doll, love me using your body like the cum dump you are. Remember when you loved being called a cockslut. Fuck! I’ve missed those luscious lips wrapped around my cock.’

‘James, just stop it. We can’t do this. I’m with Erik now.’

The moment he stilled, his metal hand going around her throat to squeeze tightly, she knew she made a fatal mistake. ‘Sunshine, you are the light of my life, the reason I breathe. How can you still take another man’s name. You are never leaving me again. We were making such good progress and you ruined it.’

‘Please…don’t, I’ll be good. I promise.’ She whispered, her voice thin from lack of air, grovelling for her life as she felt him consider her words.

‘I mean I usually don’t make exceptions. But, you’d have to give me a rather convincing reason to change my mind. Show me why I should forgive my worthless cockslut. Hmm?’

Making a humming sound, clearly lost in thought, he pulls out of her; her cunt squelching, squirting slightly on the floor, already missing his cock as he kneels in front of her. She grimaced at the thoughts, hating herself for complying to him. She forced herself to remain still as he reaches to caress her cheek. ‘You’ve been crying. Why? I’m the one for you, the right one. Am I so bad for you?’

She dared not answer, knowing that while he was in love with her; he wouldn’t also hesitate to kill her should she cross him. And, she would die, before ever letting him know just how badly he terrified her, as he laughed, the sound jarring and loud in the silent room.

His smile went back to it’s crooked, quiet innocence. Suddenly, he was charming and soft again; the sight now almost making her gag. ‘I have an idea, a way you can make it up to me. Why don't you get on your knees and show your Sergeant just how much you love me?”

Applying an insistent pressure to her shoulder, he pulled her back to her knees again, pulling off her leggings to throw them aside, spreading her knees wide so he could plunder her pretty pink pussy with his fingers again. Sucking off her juices from his fingers, he watches her place her chained hands on her thighs. Allowing her just a moment of hesitation, his cock standing proudly, angry and red, leaking pre cum before tilting his hips forward to press the tip lightly against her lips.

She casts a pleading look up but to no avail. His sudden sombre expression left no room for negotiation. ‘Sunshine, I’m waiting. You’ve done this before. I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do.’ His tone reeked of disapproval.

The moment she parted her lips, he pushed his way into her mouth, impatient for her heat. Grasping her hair again, he yanked her up slightly to slide between her lips, but he quickly remembered the difference in their heights, letting out a frustrated growl. Unchaining her hands, he drags her towards the front of the room, dropping into a chair by the mirror, spreading his knees slightly, he motioned to the yoga mat between his feet. So, he remembered burning her knees…

Sinking down in front of him, as she takes his length in her mouth, he grips the sides of the chair hard, before reaching down to grip her hair in a makeshift ponytail. She continued sucking, bobbing her head up and down, as the grip suddenly tightens and before long, he’s pulling on her hair again. Bucking his hips, forcing her to take him deeper into his mouth. Having anticipated the deep throat, she stems her panic, breathing through her nose when she chokes and gags on his cock, tears streaming down her face.

Even though she had done this before, and that made it somewhat easier, the situation made it so much more painful and frightening as she allowed him to work himself into her throat, her muscles burning from his width. Bucky couldn’t stop groaning and moaning, hissing occasionally when she used her teeth to graze his length, making it more than clear that he was pleased with her effort. She didn’t know if it was him yanking on her hair, those lewd sounds, or perhaps the fire that warmed her lower belly, eased something within her.

Gripping his thighs tightly, the nails drawing angry lines down the length as the muscles beneath jumped each time she went down. He rewarded her with something that sounded like a purr, and a string of soft foreign words, maybe Russian, that could have been praise and encouragement…? Not long after, as she sucked his head, nibbling the tip, he gritted out a guttural warning and pushed her head down roughly. Holding her down longer than before, longer than she could possibly stand. She didn’t know if she made a sound beyond  the gagging and choking, maybe even begging, but all she could do was claw at his thick, beefy thighs.

Cumming into her mouth, the thick liquid burning her sore throat, as she struggled to swallow before sticking out her tongue to show him her empty mouth. Sliding out of her throat easily, he released her, as she sunk completely to her knees, panting heavily despite trying to catch her breath. He suddenly lifted her chin with his metal hand to get a better look at her, before brushing her cheeks, trying to be gentle. He was wiping her tears.

‘You did so well, my sunshine. I’m proud of you.’ She couldn’t trust her voice, knowing the edge of darkness was only a second away, so she only nodded, her body covered in bruises from his rough manhandling. Hoisting her up, he slapped her ass, bringing her close to his body, her muscles screaming in pain.

‘Say it, doll. Say you are mine, now and forever. Don’t take away my sunshine.’ Growling huskily, giving her no time to answer as he picked her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist, drawing her into another, more forceful kiss. A heat she’d never felt before took over her, as he sought entrance into her lovely mouth. And suddenly, everything became clear to her, as she smiled at him, cupping his face.

‘My King N’Jadaka.’

You gasped weakly, the words burning, tearing at Bucky’s heart as he howled bitterly.

‘Nooo!!!!!’

*

Y/N opened the door to Erik’s chambers, he looking up only when the door closes with a bang. Surprise washes over his face as horror washes over hers. He looked sick, his hair was limp, his eyes dull with dark circles beneath. It looked like he hadn’t moved since she left for the retreat.

‘Erik! What have you done to yourself?!’ Stares at him with wide eyes, pressing her lips sadly at the man in front of her. Beyond his surprise he has shown no emotion, welcoming or otherwise. ‘Erik?’ She questions gently, fear gripping her heavy heart, as she stops at the desk.

‘You came back.’ He sounds broken. ‘I thought you never wanted to see me again… I didn’t think…’

She swallows a sob, rushing around the table to drop to her knees at his side. ‘What are you talking about? Of course I came back. Erik, you’re my love, my everything.’

She rubs his hands, worried at how cold they are. ‘What I said to you. I don’t deserve you nor your forgiveness after that. You said it right, Y/N. I always hurt you when you make your own decisions, and I was wrong.’ He shudders, looking away.

‘If anyone should say sorry, it’s me. I struck you, yelled at you, ran away from you…’ He pulls her onto his lap, stroking her face, her jaw, her neck, fingering the gold chain she still wore.

‘It was completely justified my love. I insulted you, spoke to you so harshly. You just wanted to give an old love some closure. I acted rashly out of jealousy.’ His other hand rubs at her wrist where he had held too tightly, pressing kisses into her palm.

Y/N didn’t have to say anything, her forgiveness shining from the love in her eyes as he pulls her into a tight hug, kissing her fiercely, before burying his face into her shoulder.

*

Bucky jumped, screaming from the nightmare as Steve clamped a firm hand down on his shoulder. ‘Buck, wake up, wake up now. Shit!’

Looking around wildly, he realised he was back in his room, the drapes shut, sweat running down his face in rivulets. ‘Where am I? Where’s Y/N? Is she alright?!’

Steve frowned at him. ‘You’re in your room, having a nightmare. Y/N? She just returned back from her yoga retreat. Went to go see Erik and-‘.

He stopped as Bucky started shaking, tears running down his face. ‘What is it? Did she say something to you? Erik didn’t threaten you right?’

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he shook his head hard. After much cajoling and persuasion, he spilled everything as Steve leaned against a wall listening intently. Not once did he interrupt him, as Bucky explained what he saw in the throne room, then having witnessed their fight a couple of days ago. He spoke about trying to come between the two of them and finally the dream he had, collapsing into heaving sobs as Steve hugged him, making a note to visit Shuri after this.

It seemed like the Winter Soldier was surfacing again…