M ♡

His demand came out stronger than you expected, sending you reeling back from the door. You heard him exhale, uttering another curse under his breath before trying again.

“Now, please?” His voice was softer, granted there was still an edge to it. You paused, even more confused as to why he wanted Sam of all people, especially right this second.

“I– Sure.”

A muttered ‘thank you’ followed as you headed straight for the front door and out into the hallway, practically running to Sam’s quarters. Your heel clicks echoed off the tile floor, bouncing off the walls as you quickened your pace, stopping abruptly as you found Sam’s quarters.

You pounded on the door, calling out his name. No response.

“Sam Wilson, get out here, damnit!” You yelled as your fists readied for another swing at the door. Just before you could make contact, the door flew open. Sam stood there with a brow cocked, hands fiddling at his neck as he adjusted his tie.

“Damn, Honeysuckle, didn’t know you were capable of using such language,” he tisked. You only narrowed your eyes at him, deciding the comment would be saved for the next time you were paired with him in sparring.

“Sam, Bucky needs you,” you spat out. Sam paused, his brow furrowing and arms crossing over his chest, a crooked smirk plastering his face still. He didn’t believe you.

Honestly, who would?

“Why? He need help oiling his gears?” He stifled a chuckle at his joke, but you weren’t in any mood to laugh. You lunged for his arm, yanking him out into the hallway with you and slamming his door shut. You pointed a sharp finger in his face and he instantly dropped his act.

“Will you just shut the fuck up and come with me?” You demanded through gritted teeth. For all you knew, Bucky could be suffering from another panic attack. Alone. The thought of such a possibility made your heart pound even harder.

And if being late didn’t already piss you off, that sure as hell did.

“Okay, alright, I’m comin’.”

***

“He’s in through there,” you pointed as the two of you entered Bucky’s quarters. Sam led the way, gently knocking on the door.

“Bucky? It’s me, can I come in?”

Not a word was uttered as the door cracked open slowly, a metal-plated arm lunging out and yanking Sam into the room, then quickly slamming it closed. You flinched, the room settling into silence as you stood outside of the bathroom, hands twirling in the fabric of your dress. One minute turned into three, then five, with nothing but incoherent voices in hushed conversation from inside the bathroom. 

Just as you were about to yell for F.R.I.D.A.Y. and break the door down, Sam started cackling at the top of his lungs. 

Now you were really confused.

“Honey!” He managed to call between howls. “Get in here!”

You rushed to the door, hesitating as you gripped the handle. Cautiously, you turned it, pushing the door open to a scene that was the last thing you could have possibly imagined.

Sam stood by the sink, bent over in stitches. Tears brimmed his eyes as he tried– and failed– to stop laughing, to no avail. His suit jacket wrinkled at the waist as he jutted an arm out from his stomach, bracing himself on the countertop. 

“Sam what the fuck–” you began to scold him, turning your head to Bucky. 

Your jaw dropped.

The hulking ex-hitman stood against the opposite wall with his head bent to the floor, loose strands of hair falling from his slicked-back ponytail. His arms crossed over his chest, failing at covering the source of Sam’s hilarity.

His shirt was bright pink. 

Not like a typical white-shirt-got-in-with-the-reds type pink. Oh, no, this shirt was as if a flamingo colored itself with a highlighter and then rolled in strawberries.

Bucky’s face was close to matching it perfectly as Sam continued to holler from the bathroom sink, and it took everything in you not to crack a smile. 

“Oh! Oh, Bucky,” your voice wavered as you bit your lip to hold back your smile. You stepped toward him, placing your hands on his sulking shoulders. He dared not to look up from his staring contest with the floor as his face became even more flushed. 

“Hey, Buck,” you coaxed as you gently lifted his chin with a finger, “look at me will ya?”

He sighed, relenting, finally meeting your stare. His baby blues beamed right through you, holding your gaze with sad puppy-dog eyes you couldn’t resist looking away from.

Was it you, or did the pink make them even more brilliant?

“How did this even happen?” You questioned him, and Sam, looking to and from both of them as you kept your grip on Bucky’s frame. 

“I asked Sam for help doing laundry,” he croaked out in a barely-audible whisper, “‘n he told me to just throw everything in, even the reds ‘n whites.” 

You whipped around, shooting daggers at Sam, grip tightening on Bucky’s shoulders. 

“Sam!” 

“What? He asked, I helped!” He wiped away a tear as he caught his breath and smoothed out his suit. Defeated at the minimal amount of brain cells Sam possessed, empathetic at Bucky’s sweet naivety, you sighed, thinking of ways to remedy the situation so you could at least show up in time for the end of cocktail hour because Gods you needed a damn drink.

You looked back to Bucky, chewing your lip and searching his features for an answer.

Then it hit you. 

“Wait here,” you ordered, “both of you.” You pointed to Sam as you exited the bathroom, making a beeline to the elevator for your apartment. 

Once on your floor, you sprinted to your door and crashed into your apartment, hurrying to your closet in search of the dress you remembered dismissing when Wanda was helping you choose what to wear. 

Do it for Bucky, do it for Bucky, do it for Bucky.

You hoped your inner mantra would be enough to pull off the disaster– or ‘the dress of the century,’ according to Wanda– and make Bucky feel better.

***

“Man, hey,” Sam nodded to Bucky, who still refused to look his counterpart in the eye. Sam rolled his eyes, heart filling with just a smidge of guilt for messing with him. 

“Buck–”

“Don’t call me Buck.”

“Okay, you know what? I’m sorry. There, ya happy?”

Bucky grunted in response, shifting his weight as he continued to analyze the tiled flooring.

“Bucky, c’mon, I–” Sam stopped mid-sentence, interrupted as the bathroom door whipped open.

You stood in the threshold, arms crossed with a black suit jacket. The bubblegum pink, mid-thigh dress donned with sequins hugged tightly to you as you waited for Bucky to notice. 

Sam sure as hell did.

Slowly, Bucky snapped out of his trance, eyes skimming from the floor to your heels, up your legs and around your waist, eyes widening as he made his way up to meet your sharp gaze. 

Without hesitation, you cocked your hip and threw the jacket at him. He looked down at it, then back up at you. 

If he didn’t know any better, he would be drooling. 

“C’mon Buck, get dressed or we won’t make it in time for cocktail hour,” you said, tapping your imaginary wristwatch. 

Bucky gulped, continuing to drink you in as he gripped tightly onto the suit jacket. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the biggest grin break out on Sam’s face. Silently, he sneaked past you and out of the apartment, closing the door and heading to the elevators. 

Finally, Bucky snapped back to reality and did as you asked. He swung the jacket over his broad shoulders, adjusting the cuffs as he moved to the mirror. You stepped into the bathroom and observed from behind, resting your head on his shoulder as he fiddled with his dog tags under his shirt. 

“You didn’t have to do this, ya know,” he muttered, a smirk, dusted with gratefulness, quickly growing on his face. 

“Yes, I did,” you retorted, grabbing his waist and turning him towards you. Nimble fingers reached for his collar, adjusting it as you locked eyes with him. You returned the smile as you tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

So, so handsome.

You heard the door squeak and a light footstep. When you turned around, you expected to see another one of your coworkers coming back to retrieve a forgotten item, but instead were greeted by a different presence, Loki. 

“I expected you might be in here,” Loki said, illuminated by only the light in the hallway. Despite the darkness of the lab, you could still see the sharp angles of his face and his gentle smile to you. 

“I suppose I have become predictable,” you laugh quietly. “I just enjoy being able to have some time to myself and thoughts, away from all the chaos.”

“I apologize for interrupting your thoughts. What are you working on now that requires you here so late?”

“It’s not that late Loki, it’s only-” you look at the clock, “I suppose the time got away from me again.”

He laughs and slowly sits down on the stool next to you. “You are very dedicated to your work, I-” he pauses, “It’s admirable how much care you put into the things you love.” 

You look up at him, stunned by what he just said. Your mouth is slightly agape as you try to think of a response. Does he truly think I’m admirable? This is a man who works with the Avengers, who helped save Asgard. Eventually you close your mouth and look down at your work, so Loki continues.

“Tell me more about what you’re working on,” He said with a smile, eyes looking at you with anticipation.

“Are you sure? I tend to ramble and I can get distracted easily.” You laugh pitifully. “I might bore you to death from my talking.”

“I don’t think so, I think you- I mean, your work is quite captivating and I don’t mind rambling.” 

You stare at him for a second, then clear your throat, “Well, I did make a discovery with the sample I was studying…” 

The next morning, you can not stop your mind from wandering back to your conversation with Loki. You’ve always had a different perspective of him than many others. While others saw him as cold and distant, you saw how curious he was, the remarkable intelligence he had. Every conversation you had with him, he showed genuine interest and kindness towards you. 

However, last night, Loki showed admiration for not just your work but for you as a person. In the dark lab, the conversation felt more intimate, and you made yourself more vulnerable to another person than you have for a long time. 

But then doubt starts. What if he was simply being polite? It is hard to wrap your mind around the idea that someone like Loki could truly care about you and not judge for being overly passionate.

As you continued to walk to the lab, you heard someone call your name behind you. While turning around, you feel your heart longing for it to be Loki. But when you look back, you see your coworker John. 

He was nice to work with. He generally completed all his research in a timely manner and he had a contagious laugh that always lifted the spirits of the lab even after tiring days. Yet, you still had to hide your disappointment with a polite smile. 

“Hello John, did you need something?” 

“I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing.” His hands are in his pockets and he shows off his wide white smile. “It’s rare I get to catch you outside of the lab, I wanted to take advantage of this moment.” 

“Oh, well I’ve just been working on my research and I have made some interesting discoveries and I-” 

“You work too hard,” John interrupts. “What do you like to do outside of work?” 

You pause, while certainly your work isn’t your entire life, you care deeply about your research. Does Loki think I’m odd? “Um well, I like-” 

“See this is what I’m talking about, you gotta explore life outside of the lab.” You stare at him considering what he said.

John continues, “Listen, I will be quite frank. I think you are beautiful and I’m hoping you can take some time away from the lab and go out to dinner with me.”

“Oh,” You are thrown off guard by his request. Sure John was always nice, but you never expected him to have any interest in you. 

But maybe you should take advantage of the opportunity. It has been awhile since you’ve been asked out and maybe John was right, you need to spend some time away from the lab.

You hesitate, but finally you take a deep breath, “Yes, I would love to.” You force yourself to give him another smile.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear.” John walks closer to you, instantly you feel as though your space is being invaded. “How about tomorrow night then? I’m excited to see you outside of this compound, see you all dressed up.” He smirks.

“Alright, sounds good.” You look away from him and quicken your pace as you continue on to the lab. It’s good to get outside of your comfort zone, this is good for you, you keep reminding yourself.

Around the corner, Loki overhears your conversation with John. 

Loki never liked John, he reminded him too much of Thor before he got sent to Earth. He can tell you’re uncomfortable from the way you make yourself smaller and your voice being only slightly louder than a whisper.

Loki can’t stop the pang of hurt he feels when he hears you say “yes.” He knows he shouldn’t feel it, that the two of you are barely even friends and you can go and date whoever you like. Still, he wishes that you did not feel pressured to agree, he wishes that he was the one to ask you first. 

All he can hope is that John treats you well.

Loki doesn’t know why he is walking past the lab. He knew you wouldn’t be there tonight, that you would be busy with your date. He grimaces just thinking about it. Loki knows that he is jealous. Jealous that John gets to spend time with you, to hear you laugh. 

But he will keep that jealousy to himself if it means you being happy.

The door is open to the lab and Loki can hear the clattering of tools. That’s peculiar, no one ever works this late. No one except one. Curious, Loki sticks his head through the doorway, only to find the person he least expects. 

“John, what are you doing here,” Loki demands. He tried to keep his voice level. John shouldn’t be here, he should have already left for your date. 

“Ah shit, Loki you scared me,” John grunts. “I had a project I needed to finish before Stark gets on my ass about it, so now I’m stuck here.”

“Shouldn’t you be on your date?” Loki wonders if maybe it was canceled, that you were simply having a night in away from this imbecile man. 

“I know it sucks, I’ll text her later telling her what happened. She’ll understand since she can be such a workaholic freak sometimes.” 

Any composure Loki was then gone, he felt his fists tighten as he stared John down, “You don’t tell her that you would make it.” Loki’s voice is just below a yell, John flinches. “And how dare you call her a freak, she is more dedicated to her work then anyone else here and she should be praised for it. But you,” Loki says gravelly, slowly getting closer to John. “You feel as though you can belittle her for it. And as if you weren’t wasting her time enough by asking for a date, you didn’t even bother to show up”

“Listen, I was planning on showing up,” John trembles. “Work just got the best of me and I gotta stay here for the night. She won’t mind being alone, I chose a nice restaurant too.”

Alone. You are alone right now. 

Loki realizes he needs to change that ultimately. John is a later problem, he can deal with him later. Loki quickly runs out of the room with a plan.

There you are, at a restaurant you can’t afford and far more uptight than you prefer. The lighting is low, but instead of feeling relaxed like when you turn down the lights in the lab, you just feel anxiety.

John hasn’t arrived yet. Your leg is bouncing up and down, as you try to calmly look for him. To see if he is lurking in any of the shadows. 

You had left work early today, well early for you, to have time to get ready. You searched through your closet trying to find something acceptable for the date (eventually you found an old pencil dress you had bought for a grad school reception) and pulled your hair up into a tight updo. 

As you sat at your table, you continued to watch more couples sit down and their orders be taken. You check your phone, he is 20 minutes late. Well that it isn’t too late I guess, maybe I was just too early. 

And so you continue to wait. You want for a man you don’t even care for and who likely doesn’t care about you simply because he made you uncomfortable. He made you feel as though he was your only option.

But then you see a man weaving through the crowd, mumbling quick apologies. Was John always so tall? 

Loki. Loki came.

As he gets closer, you can see his raven black hair is a mess with curls in all different directions. He is wearing a white button down with slacks and a blazer. Such a formal outfit looks natural on him.

“I’m so sorry,” Loki says as he sits down across from you. “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long.”

“Loki, what are you doing here? I’m supposed to be,” he cuts you off.

“Slight change of plans, you came here to have dinner with your date. Only the date has changed, simply as that.” Loki settles into his seat and starts looking at the menu as though there was nothing odd about the situation.

“Loki, you can’t be serious,” you sigh. “Listen, John is going to be here any moment, this isn’t funny.” God, you are so tired of this day. You just want to go home and be by yourself. Screw going outside of your comfort zone. 

“I am being serious.” Loki looks directly at you. For a moment, you wish to look away, but you can’t help staring at his blue eyes. “Unlike that idiot man who originally was going to be here, I’ll admit he was clever to ask you out, I should have done it first. But he was always just going to take advantage of your time whether he came or not.”

You froze, your mind could not comprehend what Loki just said to you. You should ask about why John isn’t here. But all thoughts and questions are just about Loki. “What do you mean you should have done it first?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, I wished I asked you to go on a date with me first.” He leans forward. “When I am in the same room as you, I am constantly astonished by you. The way you speak with such passion,” he smiles sadly. “The way you are always kind to me, I don’t deserve your kindness. I think that’s the reason why I’ve avoided asking you to spend more time with me. It’s silly though because then I just ended up always walking by the lab late at night, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”

“And I was always there.” You give him a soft smile. “I think you are too hard on yourself, all the kindness I’ve shown you, you deserve. Just look at what you’ve done for me tonight. You showed up. If anything I don’t deserve your kindness, I shouldn’t be surprised John didn’t show up-”

“You’re wrong,” he laughs softly. “Maybe we are both too hard on ourselves. All I know is that you are an intelligent, thoughtful, and beautiful woman.” You feel your cheeks get warm and try to resist a smile. “I just hope I can be good company for the night.” Loki gives you a shy smile, only now you realize that he is just as nervous as you about making a good impression.

You take his hand resting on the table into yours and give him a gentle squeeze, “I know you will be more than good company.”

You and Loki are walking side-by-side, your arms occasionally lightly touching each other. After you shivered when a particularly cool breeze passed by, Loki gave you his jacket. The sidewalk was mostly dark except for the shine of the lamps and the moon.

The walk back to your apartment took much longer than it should have, but you didn’t care. If the two of you took the wrong corner a couple of times, so be it. During your dinner, the two of you talked and laughed the entire time. But now you are walking in a comfortable silence just feeling comforted by the other’s presence. 

Eventually though, all good things come to an end and you reach the entrance of your apartment building.

You look up at him and break the silence, “This is where I live.” 

“Oh, I see,” Loki says quietly. “I’m glad I could get you home safely.”

You smile, “I’m glad too. Thank you, not just for walking me home, but for everything. I truly enjoyed the evening with you. I think it all worked out better than I could have imagined.”

Loki nods his head gently, the corner of his mouth raising slightly. You see him rock on the heels of his feet. Slowly, the two of you move closer together. Loki leans down, staring at your lips, but eventually his lips land on your cheek giving you an affectionate peck. 

You can’t help, but laugh. 

Loki looks at you puzzled, “What is it?” 

“Oh, nothing.” you say before rising to stand on your tiptoes and catch his mouth with your lips. For a moment, he stands there shocked, but eventually relaxes. His hands gently hold the side of your face. 

When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours. He tries to hold back a boyish laugh, but once you start to laugh again with him, he can’t resist it anymore; the happiness he feels.

You don’t know how long it takes for you to separate from him, occasionally one of you giggles under your breath. Eventually, you walk to the door of your apartment building with an extra skip in your step.

“I’m keeping your jacket,” you smile coyly. “You can get back eventually, as long as you take me out on another date.” 

Unplugging your earphones, you sit up, noticing the familiar leather from under the slither of light. You fling off your covers and rush for the door, face lighting up when you see who is on the other side. 

"Bucky?!" you blurt out, clearly happy to see him. "What are you doing back so soon?" you ask, tone elated. 

His smile widens, grinning boyishly at you. "Came back before heading out again," he shrugs casually, speaking as if it were all that easy. "...was missing you," he admits, eyes diverting away bashfully. 

Your head tilts to the side, nose scrunching from his sweet confession. "I missed you," you widen your door, silently inviting him inside. "Only a little bit," you add, expression mirroring his.

Bucky steps into your room and shuts the door behind himself, closing the distance between you with a brisk step forward - leaning in to kiss you, soft and sweet. His hands settle on your waist, fingers sliding under the fabric of your t-shirt to feel your skin - flesh warm and comforting against his.

You rest your hands over the sides of his face, palms cupping his cheeks as the kiss grows more desperate. Carnal. "How long til you leave?" you ask, voice muffled against his lips, your words sounding needy. 

"Fifteen minutes." 

He walks you backwards, heading for your bed, his hands eagerly roaming you as he lays you against the edge of the mattress, slotting his lower half between your spread legs. He hovers above you, his cock growing hard and strained behind his pants, bulge nudging up into that warm spot between your thighs. 

"We can make that work," you reply, a slight whine to your tone.

He hums, far too entranced by how you feel against him to respond coherently. The rush of blood swelling to his cock, leaving his brain. Bucky peels from your grasp and stands between your spread legs, looking down at the lewd image of you - lips bruised and plumped, eyes half-lidded, t-shirt exposing the underneath of your pretty tits. 

He loved how you usually looked, but this was just on another level - you obscenely desperate for him and him only. Your eager eyes following his every move, looking over him like you couldn't get enough.

Your gaze hones in on his hands, watching him undo the button of his pants, his fingers slipping down the front, pulling his hardened dick from behind the waistband. You follow suit, urgently pulling down your pyjama bottoms and flinging them aside - leaving you in only an oversized tee, lying near naked under his fully clothed self.

His left metal hand takes hold of his cock, leisurely rolling it in his palm as his other reaches between your thighs - fleshed middle finger sliding up and down the slit of your pussy. Fingerpad circling over your clit ever so deliciously, mindlessly rubbing the sensitive nub.

"We don't have long, James," you say softly, hand reaching for his wrist, fingers wrapping around his meaty lower arm.

He slips off his jacket, revealing a black compression top underneath. He stands between your legs, blissfully unaware of how good he looks right now - tight, short-sleeved top, black combat pants pooling around his thighs, pretty dick exposed and on display. 

"Wish we had longer," he murmurs, itching himself closer.

"You're back in two days, right?" you say, instinctively adjusting your hips - widening your thighs to accustom his frame.

He pushes his head through the slick of your cunt, coating the tip in a soft, creaming sheen. He hums in response, his thumb resting atop his cock as he guides himself into you, easing through your fluttering walls. 

He leans over you once more, weight anchored on his hands either side of your head, dick sinking into you so nicely - just you taking him so well.

You reach up to cup his cheeks, holding his face in your hands as you maintain his gaze, your features growing pliant under his attention - eyes softening, brows knitting, expression mirroring his. You meet in the middle, lips clashing eagerly. 

"Can't you pretend to be sick?" you murmur against his mouth, speaking desperately.

He slowly begins to wind his hips into you, cock consuming you from the inside out. "I can try to get out of it," he replies, his voice hoarse and strained from the way you wrap yourself around him.

"Please do," you whisper, latching your lips back onto his - kissing him hard, moans muffling.

"Why?" he whispers back, a soft smile lining his lips. "Do you miss me?"

"No." 

"No?" 

You faintly shake your head, eyes playful and unconvincing. "No." 

He plays along. "Neither do I."

Bucky continues like that, fucking into you, his leisured pace growing rushed by the second, winding into you more ruthlessly than he would've liked. Usually, he would take the time to work you up - make love to you, kiss and touch and caress you, but with the minutes growing shorter and shorter, less and less, he had to switch it up. 

It doesn't take long for you both to cum, your climax hitting you hard; his cock almost choking you, repeatedly knocking the air out of your lungs. His release follows mere moments later, spilling his warm, thick load - sloppily pumping it into you. 

His forehead rests against yours, both of your breathing erratic, slowly beginning to even out. "Sorry, my love. I got to go," he whispers apologeticly, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

Sweetly nodding as you push his stray hairs back, looking at him with a knowing expression he's grown familiar with. 

He kisses you once more and peels himself from you, standing back between your thighs - dressing back up. He looks down at you, eyes raking over you as if to savour the image, memorising you before he goes. 

Adjusting your t-shirt, you follow after him, the patter of your bare feet trailing after him like a shadow. He reaches for the handle and turns back to face you, his soft, gentle eyes filled with warmth. 

"I'll call you when I land," he smiles, speaking like he's reading your mind. 

"Be careful, yeah?" you reach up, meeting his initiation for kiss.

"I always am."

You were walking past the living room door when a discontented grunt caught your attention. You took two steps back to crane your neck past the half-closed door. Bucky was sitting on the sofa, leaning over the living room table, which looked like a toddler’s table compared to him, his face illuminated by the bright screen of his new laptop that you’ve bought him not too long ago. His eyebrows were tightly knit together when he mumbled a quiet curse. You turned around, a curious expression on your face as you walked through the door.

"You okay, baby?" you asked and promptly sat down next to him. Bucky gave you an inscrutable look before turning his eyes back to the screen. “Where the hell do I find my emails?” he asked in frustration. A sudden laugh escaped you. You should have realized that a 106 year old man who had little to do with electronics would have some trouble with a laptop. Bucky gave you a displeased look with a slight, unconcious pout appearing on his face. “Click on the internet icon.” You spoke softly, willing to help. Bucky’s brow furrowed. “I don’t need the internet, I need my emails.” You stayed silent for a moment, slightly baffled by his words. Just last week you took the effort to set up a Google account with him and you were pretty sure he had paid attention then. “Bucky.” You said an amused huff escaping you. “Your e-mail is connected to the Internet. Just click on the icon.” Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance to cover his slight embarrassment and went back to staring at the desktop. He was definitely taking his time, and at one point you doubted he knew what an icon was. “Need any help?” you asked as kindly as you could, though the sight of Bucky squinting his eyes like a real old man made your voice sound rather amused. With an exhausted sigh, Bucky leaned back against the seat back and rubbed his face, his shoulders visibly slumping. “You do it.”

You snort, but immediately apologize after he gives you an exceptionally grumpy look. “You can do it.” You said encouragingly, giving him a small smile. Bucky rolled his eyes, but relented and bent over the laptop again. You shuffled closer to it so you could see the screen properly, and the little orange and blue Firefox icon literally jumped out at you. You pointed your finger at it and looked at it again. “Just click on this one.”

You tried to be patient with him, really, and actually he did exactly what you said, but you couldn’t hold back the little sigh that left your mouth as he moved the cursor over the Firefox icon and clicked. Once. “Okay.” You mumbled, rubbing your eye. Apparently, you needed to be more specific. "This time you click twice." Another brief but piercing look from Bucky before he actually double-clicked and the browser opened. You sent a quick thank you to the heavens before instructing him to type the url into the search tab and cringed silently when he started typing with both of his pointer fingers. Right this second you decided to teach him how to properly type with all ten of his fingers later. A few more instructions later, probably a little more than usually necessary, he reached the Google log-in site.

“I assume you can handle the rest?” It was supposed to be a statement but your voice shifted into a question at the end.

He hummed quietly in affirmation, though his brow was still furrowed as if this whole thing was incredibly complicated which, to be honest… it probably was for him. You pressed your lips together, a slight sting of guilt coursing through you, your previous amusement and frustration about his hardship completely vanishing. One second you were quietly sat next to him and the other you had your arms wrapped around his bicep and your head leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about laughing earlier.” You whispered, almost too quiet for him to understand if he weren’t a Super-Soldier and had enhanced hearing. “I know it’s new for you.” Bucky tried to shrug it off but you saw how his eyes softened when he tilted his head to look down at you. A sudden, quiet chuckle escaped him, making you quirk an eyebrow in curiosity.

You didn’t know much about Zabraks in general, but you did know a lot about Maul. You knew he was moody and aggressive, mostly with others rather than yourself. You know that he likes eating with you, often refusing meals unless you were there to join him. You know that he is a Sith Lord, with a master who doesn’t like you. But most importantly, you know that Maul is possessive.

Maul’s possessiveness was the most prevalent part of his personality, at least from your point of view. It was the very reason you’re here, locked away in his room on a massive ship in the middle of space, far from your home on Naboo. Currently, he was busy training with his master while you were forced to wait for him. His master didn’t come around so often anymore; you didn’t know why his visits have become less frequent, but you were relieved by the fact. The Sith unsettled you for more reasons than his wicked nature; he made his dislike for you clear. You’re sure the only reason he let Maul keep you at all is because of the strong emotions you disrupt in the zabrak.

You aren’t entirely certain what the Dathomirian feels for you, but you’re clever enough to know it’s something akin to obsession. He’d kidnapped you; stole you from Naboo as you were returning from the late-night market. He’d never explained to you why he took you, why he was there on Naboo, or if he had ever stalked you beforehand. He prefers to leave you ignorant to most things, perhaps only because he dislikes talking.

Maul wasn’t a great communicator by any means, especially when he’d first brought you to the ship, but you realized at some point that verbal communication was his primary issue. Physically, he was very clear in what he wanted, whether he had to drag you around, pick you up and place you where he wanted, or even growl at you.

Back when you’d first arrived, the idea of sharing a bed with him rightfully scared you. The first few days spent with him, you sat in the corner of his room, cowering and refusing to move unless you needed the bathroom. He didn’t say much to you, but his annoyance at your rejection was obvious enough. He would sit on the edge of the bed glaring at you for many minutes until he eventually stripped his shirt off and laid down, his back to you. That was a short-lived phase: after four nights of this, he finally went over to you, plucked you from your spot on the ground and threw you onto his bed. Maul was an intimidating figure, in more ways than one, so you were too scared to try and escape him. He forcefully pushed you under the covers before crawling into bed himself, next to you. He kept his distance, and eventually you relaxed; you didn’t realize how soft his bed was. But the moment your eyes closed, Maul released a deep, odd sounding growl that immediately jolted you out of your relaxed state. He didn’t growl again that night, but you still didn’t sleep much.

Recently you’ve noticed that his growling has become more frequent, and you assumed he just didn’t like being bothered. You’ve lost most of your fear of him; it’s become increasingly obvious that he had no intention of hurting you. And honestly, you’re learning to accept your role with him. But the growling bothers you; it’s confusing. If he liked you enough to kidnap you from your home planet, then why does he growl at you?

Often, he brings you along to watch him train, but only when he’s alone. You sit on the ground with nothing to entertain yourself as he shows off his fighting skills, throwing and manipulating his lightsaber with impressive ease. You haven’t told him yet, but you’ve learned to admire his beauty; the tattoos covering his red skin were oddly charming and you catch yourself wanting to trace your fingers over them. For many months, you’d widely tried to ignore his presence the best you could, but it was getting exhausting. He wasn’t wearing a shirt at the moment, most likely to draw a reaction from you, and you now really take the chance to look at the dark patterns.

Pretty, you thought affectionately, watching as Maul froze in place.

He shut his lightsaber off, a short, quiet growl leaving him. Turning your way, he dropped the saber hilt before extending his hand your way.

“Come here.” He spoke sternly, and you perked up with a smirk.

“What, do you want me to beat you up?” You asked, guessing that he was inviting you to spar with him.

Your confidence was a bit false and he likely knew it. You were stiff from hearing his growl, but you weren’t fearful. You knew he wouldn’t harm you, but you knew he easily could if he so desired. You weren’t a Jedi before all this; just a normal Naboo citizen who occasionally helped assist at the palace. You couldn’t fight like Maul could, he’d knock you down in seconds.

He huffed, pushing a quick breath out of his nose at your teasing, “Show me.”

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head at his words. You weren’t sure what he was asking for.

He stepped forward, pulling you by your wrists further into the center of the room, “How you would fight me, My Star. Beat me up.” He mocked, a small grin gracing his harsh features.

Frankly, you weren’t interested in sparring with Maul. Not only were you sure to lose, but you weren’t dressed for such physical activity either. Maul provided you with clothing, as you obviously didn’t get the chance to pack. Most of your wardrobe consisted of thin dresses of various colors, primarily black, red, or white. Currently, the dress you wore was a silk, off-white piece that only went to your knees. Like most of them, it was quite revealing, a wide slit going up your thigh and two thin straps rather than sleeves. You weren’t stupid, you knew you could get out of this situation.

“Maul,” you pouted, looking down at your bare feet and stepping closer to him.

The Zabrak before you was much bigger; he wasn’t incredibly tall, but he was very broad and well-built. You’d never touched him, not really and definitely not on purpose. You’ve had accidents where you’d stumbled into him or rolled over to his side of bed at night, but his growls always spooked you away.

“I don’t want to fight you, you’ll just win. Can’t we do something else?” You asked gently, fiddling with your hands and refusing to look up at him.

His breath had picked up, you noticed. It was kind of endearing, the obvious way you effected him. You felt a little bad for messing with him like this, but at the end of the day, he did kidnap you and deserved a little karma for his sins.

He didn’t speak, just observed as you reached up and placed your hand on his shoulders.

You finally looked up into his yellow eyes, your wrists sitting gently on his red and black skin. The growls erupted in his chest instantly, causing you to flinch slightly but not move your hands. Neither of you said a word but you could see his pupils were blown wide, hinting at his attraction towards you. You were a bit taken aback and quickly averted your eyes up, looking at his horns. Does… he growl when he likes something?

“I want a book.” You whispered, “Could you get me one?”

“Yes.” Maul answered quickly, his voice a bit raspy.

“I want a book on Dathomirian Zabraks. I want to know more about them.” His strange growl grew louder at that, “For educational purposes, of course.”

“I’ll get you your book.” He confirmed.

That was two weeks ago, and he had stayed true to his promise. In fact, he’d gotten you a few books on Dathomirian Zabraks. It’s what you were currently reading as you waited for him to finish his training session with his master.

You were reading one of the three books, the one about anatomy. You remembered when you first met him, you assumed the patterns on his skin were a feature of his species, but he eventually told you they were tattoos he received as a child due to his culture. The book explained the variety of skin colors his species could have, and how they had two hearts. It was all quite interesting; you already felt as if you had a better understanding of Maul.

Just as you reached the chapter about their horns, the lock on the door fiddled and Maul soon entered the large bedroom. You sunk into your spot on the bed and peaked over the book to look at him. Per usual, he glanced at you before heading off to the shower without a word. Not much changed since you’d touched him during his training, and you haven’t tried anything since. It would be a good 15 to 20 minutes until his return, so you quickly delve back into your book.

To be honest, you’d never thought much about Maul’s horns. Rather, you just kind of accepted them and moved on. Horns were a pretty common characteristic in the universe, they weren’t the part of maul that stood out most. His most striking feature was his skin, and you’d already gotten to the bottom of that.

By the time Maul got out of the shower, you were high on curiosity.

“Maul!” You called for him as soon as he opened the bathroom door. You were looking excited, a sight he’s never been blessed with before now, sitting on your knees as the edge of the bed with the book in your hand.

“Yes, My Light?” He asked, eyes focused on your expression as he threw his black robe down the dirty-clothes shute. He was only in his loose black pants at the moment, ready for bed.

“Your horns! They grow!” You told him excitedly as if he didn’t know.

“They do.” He smiled, standing directly in front of your spot on the bed.

“I’ve never seen them any longer than what you have them.”

“I file them down, My Star.” He told you gently, slowly reaching his red and black hand down to stroke your hair.

“When?” You’d certainly never seen him do it, and you’ve been with him for nearly 7 months.

“Hm, they don’t grow as fast as you may think. I file them every few months.” He sounded breathless, your hair curled around his fingers.

“Can I do it?” You asked sweetly, knowing he’d say yes.

Poor you, you had no idea he could feel your thoughts. He always could and he was always listening. You weren’t educated on Sith or Jedi, how could you have known? You’re clueless; you think you’re clever. He lets you think you have the upper-hand, because maybe you do. He gives you anything you want, he’d do anything for you as long as you’re his. He’s obsessed with you, he loves you, you’re all he thinks about, you’re all he wants.

“Yes.” He tells you, and motions towards his bedside table where the metal file sits inside.

You crawl across the bed, letting go of your book and retrieving the file. Maul watches you diligently, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing you when you return. You don’t say anything about his position, rather you adjust yourself to sit on your knees and quickly get to work filing his horns. You work a little clumsily, but he doesn’t mind.

The growls start up immediately, and you can feel the vibrations all the way up at his horns. Since the training incident, you’ve learned not to mind them. Your working theory is ‘happy-growls’, but you have to wait until you get to the Dathomirian Zabrak: Behavior and Culture book to find out. The sound is alarming, it’s similar to the growl of a loth-wolf, maybe a bit softer? You don’t want to ask him; you’re not sure about letting him know you’re interested. After all, he did kidnap you. At the end of the day he’ll always be your captor. The growing fondness you have for him is wrong.

Lost in your conflicted thoughts, you didn’t notice his growling stop. At least not until his hands grip your waist, shocking you out of your trance. His eyes bore into yours and you begin to wonder about his eye color. It’s unique and even a bit attractive. If you had kids, would they inherit his eyes?

Maul released your waist in favor of pulling your face down to his, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate fashion.

He feels like he’s on a high; he always feels this way when he’s near you, but it’s stronger this time. Better. You were imagining kids with him. Bearing his children, and wondering if they’d resemble him. Of course, you didn’t know he wasn’t born with these eyes; they were a result of his Sith status. It’s okay, he would teach you about it in the future.

This was the first kiss between the two of you, and the most physical that things have ever gotten. You were buzzing. You wanted nothing to do with him just a month ago, but the loneliness had caught up with you, you suppose. So many thoughts were filling your head, thoughts you didn’t feel were your own. Different scenes flashed before your eyes; maul kissing you, dancing with you, getting married to him, having his children.

You gasped at the images, jerking back from the red Zabrak. The growling was louder than you’d ever heard it, and his arms were strong around your midsection. You never noticed the change in position, you were now seated in his lap with your arms around his neck.

“What was that?” You whispered, breathless and confused. You felt as if you were going to cry.

“Shh, it was nothing, my Lady.” Maul cooed, the tone sounding odd with his deep voice, “Let’s rest.”

You found yourself nodding along to whatever he said, allowing him to move you wherever he wanted. Soon you were drifting off to sleep with Maul’s chest rumbling behind you.

•.

Maul had been a bit more affectionate lately, and the growls have increased in frequency. You haven’t kissed again since the night you’d filed his horns, and to be honest, you’ve been avoiding him best you could in favor of reading your books. You felt guilty. Guilt towards your loved ones who you were stolen from. Were you actually enjoying your time with your captor?

It was the middle of the night, Maul was sleeping beside you in bed. You were still up, reading your book about zabrak behavior. This book didn’t have as many pictures as the last, but you didn’t mind; you were too focused on getting to the bottom of his growling.

Skimming through the chapter on aggression, you were confused. Although it briefly mentioned growling, the sound and motives it described didn’t match your experiences with Maul. In no way was he threatened or physically aggressive.

But when you turned the page, reaching the 11th chapter happiness and pleasure, suddenly it all made sense…

You sat up quickly, tossing your book to the ground. The sound must’ve woken Maul, because he was all too ready to catch you when you jumped onto him, straddling his midsection above the blankets.

The familiar sound starts up; he’s not growling, he’s purring.

As far as you knew, only animals could purr, you weren’t aware of any humanoid creatures having that ability. It never even occurred to you of that being a possibility, how could you have been so dumb? Happy growls? That’s what purring is, practically!

“You purr?! You’re purring at me?!”

Maul’s purrs quiet down a bit and he looks awkward. Expressionless. Like he’s not used to be confronted, which he definitely isn’t.

“No, no no! Keep going!” You slap his chest lightly, demanding more purrs. You don’t really know if it’s voluntary, you didn’t read that far.

He huffs at that, but his purrs go back up in volume and you can’t help but laugh. You feel like an idiot, you probably are, and here he is doing whatever you say. The big bad Maul, evil Sith Lord, obeying you at every request.

He almost wants to tell you he can hear your thoughts, that you’re being a bit too arrogant at the moment, but he decides that would ruin the moment. It would also likely destroy all the progress he’s made. So he stays quiet, letting his relaxed and satisfied purring talk for him.

He’s never been the best at verbal communication and he’s glad that you know.