I have a better chance of winning the costume contest at Comic Con with my gold duct tape, cut-up garbage bag Loki outfit with Kleenex boxes for shoulder pads than I have of outrunning a trained killer.
Bucky could have ended it right there in my bedroom. He could have ended it in the hallway.
But he lets me run all the way to my front door.
He's playing with me. I can tell by the way his shoulders sway that not only does he enjoy a challenge, he loves it when I resist him.
I have every intention of running out of the front door, of escaping him for as long as he'll let me. I fling open the door. The cool night air hits me, hardening my nipples, and…
Oh yeah, that's right – I'm naked.
Shit.
Bucky's so close behind me, I can feel the heat from his smirk on the back of my neck. Not knowing what to do at this point, I throw the knife and gun into the street, as hard as I can. "Go. Get them."
"So you can lock me out? I don't think so."
That's actually a good idea. Too bad he thought of it and I didn't. See, now this is probably why he's a super soldier and I'm not. "But what if someone steals your favorite knife?"
He laughs, tilting his head back just enough to tempt me to gaze at his neck. His clavicles almost mirror the strong arrow of his jawline. He brings his head back down before I can really savor the image. "It's not my favorite. I never used to have favorites, until…" He looks away. He brings a hand up to his cheekbone to brush away a stray lock of hair, as if he's suddenly self-conscious.
A breeze sweeps in through the door, making me shiver. My nipples harden even more, as if some unseen force is pinching them. I wrap my arms around the front of my body, being careful not to cross them in case Bucky takes that as a sign I'm being judgemental. I want Bucky to open up around me and I can't risk any body language being misinterpreted. "Until what?"
Bucky's eyes drop to my breasts as he watches me shiver. He reaches a hand forward. I lean in, expecting - all right, hoping – he'll rub my shoulder. Everything about him – his bones, his muscles, his arm – is hard. I want to melt into him and feel secure in this warm shelter of a man. I could even warm up his metal arm, eventually. It would take some time but I'd be willing to sacrifice some of my body heat, just to feel his body wrapped around mine, the glorious weight of him pressing down on me.
Instead, Bucky grabs my upper arm and yanks me toward him, using his other hand to slam the door closed. The wind generated by the door sends the ends of his hair flying back. My poor door slams so loudly, I flinch and make a tiny, high noise. I can't help it – I'm a slave to my instincts around Bucky.
"Until you." His eyes darken. He grabs my waist and, before I have time to completely drown myself in his eyes, he hoists me into the air and over his left shoulder. His metal arm is like a thick snake that wraps around me, squishing me into submission.
Upside down, my blood rushes to my face, leaving me with a feeling of immense pressure threatening to burst through my cheeks. I'm so high up, so tightly held, there isn't anything I can do but scream.
"That's right, I want to hear it. You're mine." He slaps my ass and stalks back into the hallway.
Until you. I grab onto his waist, not trusting him totally to keep me from falling. My hair swings from side to side as I ride along with the sway of his shoulders. Was that just a line to manipulate me? Or was he being genuine? Has he become emotionally attached to me? I curse myself for always wanting to catch what runs away, to peek under every mask, and to tame what is meant to be wild.
No, not tame. There's a part of me that I've been trying so hard to ignore, a part of me that's wild, that can never be content with safety. A part of me that rejects the 'right' way of doing things. I'm the one that's meant to be wild. I cannot be tamed.
His cold arm; his piercing grip; his all-consuming, dominant nature. How can something so fear-inducing be comforting at the same time?
He kicks open the door to my bedroom. What is with these men and abusing my doors? At least now the front door knows not to take it personally.
All I can see is Bucky's ass. Even upside down, it looks like it's totally pwning the force of gravity. When he enters the room, he stops and stands with his feet wide apart. As if anybody needs reminding that he's the alpha male. Between his legs, I spot Steve's feet on the floor at the end of my bed; he must be sitting. Why didn't he run when I gave him the chance!? My heart plops into my throat and beats louder. I can't believe I pissed off Bucky for zero benefit.
"Hold her down. This doll needs to be broken." Bucky throws me on the bed. I land on my back, yelping. Steve captures my arms gently in his large hands. "Flip her over," Bucky orders. Steve complies, flipping me onto my stomach so swiftly that my face gets smushed into the sheets.
I turn my face to the side, gasping. My hair tickles the corner of my mouth. I wish so desperately for the freedom to sweep it away. Before I can figure out what to do with my legs, Bucky grabs my hips and tugs my legs off the bed so only my torso is on the mattress. Even though my sheets are soft, the friction burns my skin. I scream, dizzy from being tossed around like his plaything.
Bucky plants his feet on either side of my calves. He pushes my legs together so firmly, they feel glued together, like a mermaid tail flowing off the edge of the bed. "You think you can steal from me, make me do what you want?" His metal hand sweeps up the curve of my hip and pushes down into the small of my back, his large hand making me feel tiny. I peek at him through my hair, trying to figure out where his human hand –
He slaps my ass. I gasp. A piece of hair gets sucked into my mouth. "Bucky," I choke; the piece of hair jumps out.
He's applying just enough pressure with his metal hand to the small of my back to make my ass stick out. His metal hand is strong enough to crush me, but I can't help but feel almost… protected by his hold on me. There's no way to escape.
I know I should be more terrified. It shouldn't feel good to be punished against my will, to be…
Bucky slaps my other cheek, eliciting another scream from me. I twist my arms in Steve's grasp, but he holds me down firmly.
"It's never gonna work. Guns, knives, none of it matters. It's never mattered." Bucky strikes my ass again. My scream turns into a moan as he delivers a matching slap to my other cheek.
I know what he's doing to me. But I can't even say the proper word in my head without feeling completely humiliated and vulnerable. Because then I'd have to face the fact that I might actually enjoy being… spanked.
I shiver, despite the blood that refuses to leave my face. I must look like an open book to Bucky – flushed, hot, and yielding.
"I don't want to fight. But you drive me to fight for you. I have to have you, doll." He spanks me in the exact same spot, every time. The sensations compound, one on top of the other, until the pain is almost unbearable.
"Bucky," I moan. I try to wiggle my ass away, but he's got me pinned down so tightly, I can't move. I turn my face into the mattress, whimpering and biting into the sheets.
He caresses my ass, plying me open with his thumb. "You're meant to be mine."
The bed is pressing against the lids of my closed eyes. There's so much pressure, everywhere, I feel like I've been abducted and taken to a planet twice the size of Earth; I weigh too much to even move a finger. I whimper incoherently, needing to say something, if only to release the pressure within my body.
Bucky's human hand strokes the back of my head, like he's rewarding me for being such a good kitten. Gently, he coaxes my jaw so I'll turn my face to the side, my cheek pillowed against the soft sheets. He kneels, placing his knees on either side of mine and presses his body down on top of me.
Now I feel like I'm on a planet three times the size of Earth. He's so heavy. His thick bulge presses between my ass cheeks, like he's bookmarking me for later.
"There's nothing you can steal from me that I wouldn't give to you anyway," he murmurs in my ear. He presses the backs of his hands against the bed and slips them under me, pushing the soft tissue of my breasts up towards my neck as he cups them. I can barely breathe – there's no room for my lungs to expand. He's determined to take everything from me, even my air.
"What about…" a tiny bit of air escapes and I manage to sound coherent. I can't get over what Bucky said – almost said – after the first time we slept together. I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed about sounding sentimental, especially at a time like this. My tongue presses against the back of my top teeth. "Lo -" I stop myself. It's too risky. I'm already trapped beneath him, it would be foolish to render myself even more vulnerable.
"I know what you want."
Whoops, there goes my autonomic nervous system. I pause to make sure my heart is still working. "You do?"
He gyrates his pelvis, his package coaxing my folds open. I moan, exhausted and riled up at the same time – definitely not in a state of mind to know the right thing to do.
Damn, there's that word again. I've tried so hard to repress my resentment of the pressure to do the 'right' thing, the thing I 'should' do. I should tell Bucky to fuck off. I should resist him. Should should should –
"You want this?" Bucky stands up, relieving the pressure. The air fills my lungs again. It's glorious and maddening to be apart from him.
He tosses his leather pants on the bed, right beside my face. He thrusts his pelvis against my ass, his naked length sliding down me, slipping on my wetness.
"Oh, fu-huck," I cry, digging my nails into Steve's wrists as hard as I can.
"Answer me. Tell me. Do you want it." Bucky sounds like he's rapping in time with his thrusts. I'd never thought I'd actually appreciate rap -
"Yes."
My eyes jerk open to look up at Steve, who just answered for me. Then I strain my eyes to glance at Bucky, who is drinking in Steve with his blown pupils. Bucky was talking to me. Right? So how come Steve answered?
"You think you've been good enough tonight, Captain? Better than my stubborn lil' doll?" There's a hint of teasing in his challenging tone as he addresses Steve. His eyes darken, and he deepens his voice. "Then quit begging for it, punk, and just fucking blow me."
Steve leaps off the bed, releasing my arms. I barely have time to turn onto my back before Steve is kneeling at Bucky's feet. Bucky grabs my ankles and sits between my legs on the bed. I try to yank my legs away from him, but it's no use; it's either lay back or wrap my arms around his abdomen to keep myself sitting up. I choose the latter.
His body is hot against me. The wetness between my legs seals my crotch to the back of his ass.
I peer around his broad shoulders for a glimpse of Steve. There's no one holding him down now, but he's staring reverently up at Bucky. Is that how I look at Bucky?
Jealousy strikes like a needle full of botox between my eyes. How come Steve doesn't look at me like that? It's like Steve's forgotten I'm in the room. I feel as though he's taken a spade and carved out my guts like a jack o'latern, leaving me feeling empty and inadequate while he cuts out a goofy face on my belly. What's wrong with me?
Steve puts his hands on Bucky's thighs. His expression changes from enslaved-puppy to a guarded glare. "This is the last time."
Bucky laughs. "That's what you said last time – Ow!"
My ears perk up. Although it was months ago, I try to recall specifically what Steve said to Bucky while he was in my bathroom. Did he say that was the last time? Either way, it doesn't look like that's true anymore.
Steve swoops his head down to Bucky's crotch. "I'm a man of my word. And if I find out you're not, say goodbye to your nuts."
"Go ahead, gum me to death, you ninety-six-year old – Jesus!" Bucky hisses. He lets go of one of my ankles to rub the skin where his thigh meet his leg.
Steve pulls his head away. "You're right, I must be old, 'cause I need glasses to see where your balls are." Steve grabs under Bucky's length and tugs the skin of his ball sack. "Oh, here they are. Traveling lightly, sergeant?"
Bucky tips his head back so it's almost resting on my shoulder. A low groan simmers up from his throat.
I'm staring at Steve as his hands work Bucky's balls. How did sweet Steve go from obedient puppy to spitfire sex pistol? I guess Bucky brings out the wild side in Steve too. I wish Steve could've been like this with –
No, not could've. Could. Use the present tense. He's still my boyfriend. He's still mine… right?
I hug Bucky's waist, needing something solid to make me feel less empty.
I glance over at Bucky's face. He's staring straight up at the ceiling, like he's cursing God or the light fixture. "Oh, fuck, Steve. What did I tell you?"
Steve's hand slips over Bucky's length, starts pumping him, purposefully keeping the pace erratic. Bucky groans, his flushed lips parting.
"You think I'm begging for it? You're the one begging." Steve shakes his head. "Honey and vinegar, Barnes. For once, try giving me the honey?"
Bucky starts massaging my legs up and down, my left leg freezing and my right leg burning. "Mmm, I'll give you something," Bucky murmurs, his lips curling. He trails his hands up my thighs, the muscles of his back squishing together like they're all fighting for space. I can see the underside of his arms, the side I don't usually see. There's less hair on this side compared to the tops of his forearms. The lack of hair makes him look even more naked.
He stops just short of my crotch, the area I was so sure he was aiming for. Not that I wanted him to touch my crotch. Just seemed like the logical thing to do. Because, you know, Bucky always does the logical thing. Like break into my house.
Yup, no flowers for me, thanks, I'll just take a criminal who likes having his ball sack tugged.
Damn, Steve is really giving it to Bucky. If anybody deserves the title of The Weiner Soldier, it's Steve.
I'm so distracted by my thoughts, I don't realize Bucky's hands are moving until his metal thumb slips inside me. I gasp, chilled.
As quickly as he slipped inside me, he pulls his thumb out and replaces it with the palm of his human hand, like he's trapping the chill inside me and trying to keep me warm at the same time. He turns his head to the side so his chin is over his left shoulder and makes eye contact with me. He tilts his chin up slightly, like he's challenging me to look away.
Uh huh. Like I stand a chance. I can hear my hormones taunting my brain cells: FAY-UHHL.
He slowly brings his thumb to his mouth, the pad of his thumb facing up. Moonlight bounces off the top of his silver deltoid and kisses his flushed lips. He sucks his thumb between his lips, his lids heavy. Wow. I have to concentrate on my breathing so I don't sound like a Neanderthal with asthma.
His thumb emerges just as slippery as when it went in. He drags it out until just the very tip is between his teeth, and then he grins at me.
My eyes are burning; I don't think you've blinked since he pushed his thumb inside me. He's dangerous. It's all part of his plan. Don't let yourself give in so easily. My brain cells are trying so hard to fight back.
The tip of his thumb pops out, as if by accident. He keeps his loose fist in front of his mouth, partially hiding his smile. "I'll never get over the way you taste."
Guhh, guhguh – My scrambled thoughts leak out between my legs as I practically collapse in on myself. I'm so thirsty. He's burning me up. I gulp, but there's nothing to swallow.
But what happens after? Bucky seems content to swallow me up in pleasure, but I need to know where this is going. What is Steve's intention for tonight? What is Bucky planning? I tried to save Steve, but he didn't want to be saved. Should I attempt to save myself?
It would be so much easier to give in…
Steve kisses the tip of Bucky's length and then sucks the head into his mouth. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on his fist, groaning.
I don't consider myself an ultra-competitive person, but there's something in the way that Steve pulls Bucky's attention away from me that makes a part of me just a little competitive. Is this what Bucky wants? Two people devoted to pleasing him? What a selfish –
Although, if I'm going to be honest, I have to admit that's kind of what I want too. And not because I'm greedy, but because Bucky and Steve are so different, how could I possibly be expected to choose?
My stomach is so knotted, my insides probably look like spaghetti with way too many meatballs. I'm too anxious; there's no way I'll be able to relax enough to enjoy the sight of Steve sucking Bucky's length deeper… deeper… into his mouth.
Okay, so maybe it is hot. But it's not enough to dissolve the meatballs of anxiety. I'm gripping Bucky's waist so hard, I can feel the sweat forming under my hands.
Bucky's brows knit together, his face crumping as he groans, louder, like he can't help it. He keeps his head turned towards me as much as possible, like he wants me to watch him fall apart. He leans against me, his back pressing against my breasts. His weight is just a little more than I can handle. To keep myself upright, I sit on my feet and press my chest against him.
God, his pectoral muscles are beautiful, sheening with sweat, heaving with his breaths. He's panting in time with Steve's mouth, the two of them increasing in intensity as Steve sucks Bucky's soul out of his length. With every pull of Steve's mouth, Bucky sounds less like a human and more like a beast.
I'm too tiny in comparison to Bucky, but I try my hardest to hold him upright as his muscles give way. He reaches behind him and grabs my hips, his fingers sinking into my soft flesh. His head rests on my shoulder. It feels so satisfying, even though it's crushing me, to have him lean on me like this. I bury my nose in his hair. Random strands are damp with sweat. He smells so good. My eyes drift shut…
His hair whips away from my mouth. His nose bops into mine. Catching me off guard, he kisses me. Hard.
Steve may have Bucky's length, but I own his body; it's tensing and weakening against me. I run my hands up his abdomen, his pecs, looping my arms around him until my fingers graze his collarbone. I break away from his mouth to lick the pulse point in his neck. I'll never get over the taste of you, either.
My competitive drive flares up again as I hear Bucky's groans hitch up a register. Every little noise he makes reinforces me and says, only you do this to me. His fingernails dig into my skin and he calls my name. My chest is on fire, and not just because Bucky's hot sweat is searing my skin. Steve may unintentionally be making me feel inadequate, but I know one way to boost myself back up again. I'll be the one to make Bucky come.
Needing his hair, my right hand flies out from under his arm and up to his head. I sit up so I can angle myself to bite the flesh above his clavicle, needing to devour him, make him mine.
He bites the side of my neck, slurring my name. He secures his hands on my ass, keeping me pressed so tightly against him, I can hardly breathe. "Ah -" Bucky cries, sounding only a little helpless. A wave of protectiveness washes over me, and I hold him even tighter in my arms. He's all mine. Is this how he feels about me?I press my ear against his throat, inhaling his scent and listening to the source of his cries.
Maybe he felt my protective urge spring up, because he quickly masks his cries with a hiss. His teeth pierce my neck, as if he hates me for even thinking he needs me to protect him. I know I should pull my neck away to save what's left of my intact skin, but there's a part of me that makes me stay put, that not only welcomes but revels in the exquisite pain that Bucky gives.
Steve chokes. My eyelids fly open just in time to see him struggle to keep his mouth around Bucky as a whitish mixture trickles down his chin. As Steve gags, I wonder why he doesn't just pull his mouth away completely. Maybe there's a part of Steve that also feels competitive or hungry.
There's no reason for me to be jealous that Steve is the one who gets to feel Bucky pulsating as he abandons himself to his orgasm.
Bucky's hands squeeze my ass as he thrusts into Steve's mouth. "Ah, yeah, take it. Take it, Steve. F -"
I have to fight another wave of jealousy as Bucky calls Steve's name. I know it's useless to feel jealous, especially since Bucky is utterly unclaimable. He's in my arms now, but I know he'll never belong to me. He'll never belong to anyone.
My legs are starting to hurt from keeping myself upright, from supporting Bucky's weight. I scooch back on the bed, letting Bucky's head fall into my lap. Some of his hair forms a curtain down my thighs; some of it sticks to his forehead, to his flushed lips. In another protective gesture – I know he'll hate it, but I can't help it – I gently brush the hair away from his face. As he falls down from the peak of his orgasm, he closes his eyes, relaxes his face. He looks so soft, so much like stray cat. Does he ever get lonely?
My face heats up, even though no one can read my thoughts. I know why that was the first question to pop into my head. From personal experience, I know the biggest pitfall of being independent, of belonging only to oneself: loneliness.
Bucky is better at masking his vulnerability than I am. I tend to rely on people – Steve – as a mask, to hide my loneliness from myself. But people always go away in the end.
Always? I hope not. I hope I find someone, one day, who stays…
I caress Bucky's metal arm, needing to feel him but afraid of how he'll react if he feels my caress. All human are vulnerable; all humans need masks sometimes. Steve is human too. What is he masking?
A fetish for threesomes, obviously.
I know at least a part of me is just as wild as Bucky. But I also know I'll starve to death without some form of security or commitment. How can I choose between two things I need?
Both men fill me, yet leave me feeling empty in some way. Steve makes me feel secure, yet can't fuck me ruthlessly; Bucky makes me feel more desired than anyone ever has before, yet can't stick around long enough to make love to me every day.
The temporary solution, of course, is both. Even though I can't help but feel that's the greediest and selfish solution of them all. Am I capable of having two boyfriends? Will Bucky let me have an extra boyfriend? What will Steve think? How long can it last?
Steve murmurs my name in a concerned tone. He's cleared the fluid from his lips. He's sitting right beside me. I almost leap out of my skin – I was so trapped in my own thoughts that I didn't realize how close he'd gotten. He cups my jaw and brushes his thumbs under my eyes. When they come away wet, I gasp.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his eyes soft.
I gulp. Deep breath. I glance over at Bucky, who looks half-asleep and is rolling onto his elbows. He's eyeing Steve with a half-smirk, looking way too comfortable given the atmosphere in the room.
I look down into my lap – well, I meant to, but I got distracted by Steve's lap. My eyes focus on his wilting erection. I choke out a sob, then clasp a hand over my mouth, my face heating up from displaying this much emotion at such an inappropriate time. I killed the mood, I killed Steve's erection – I don't belong here."I can't do this. I know this is what you want, these…" I can't bring myself to say the word threesome, so I just gesture at the three of us. "but -"
Steve's hands drop into his lap. "You think this is what I want?" His voice is quiet, but his brows sink over his eyes. "I did this for you."
"But I never – Wait, are you saying this was your idea?" My jaw pops open. "What would make you think…?"
Steve's shoulders sink. He averts his gaze.
"You swallowed a bucket of cum because you think that's what I wanted?" I raise my voice, hoping my exaggeration sounds ridiculous enough to cover up my hurt and confusion. "I thought you did that because you wanted to. You didn't do anything you were uncomfortable with just for me, did you?" I feel like crying and face-palming at the same time. Oh, Steve, why?
"A man of his word. Oh-ho, Steve." Bucky's still smirking.
I glare at Bucky. He looks so smug, I just want to slap him. "What?" I say, maybe just a little too bitchily. I'm sick of him acting like he knows something I don't.
"Why don't you give Steve a call? Maybe that'll answer some questions."
"What?" I don't have time for this. I'm two seconds away from shoving Bucky out of my house. I don't care if he's a hundred times stronger than me.
"Bucky." Steve gives him a warning look.
"Ste-eve." Bucky mocks his tone. He gets up off the bed and looks at the pile of clothes.
Steve puts his hand up. "Okay. I'll… I"ll do it."
I stare at Steve. I feel like my skin is going explode from frustration, until I register the look that Steve has on his face.
I can't help but feel like the house is about to come crashing down. I want to shake his shoulders and say, don't do this to me.
Everything's in slow motion. Steve's lips parting. His chest rising.
Oh my God – He's going to say he loves me – He's going to break up with me – He has fifteen adopted children all living in a box in Mongolia – He owns every season of Jersey Shore on DVD – He's…
"I lost my phone."
I stare at him. "You already told me that."
"Yes." Steve clasps his hands together and starts picking at his cuticle. "But I didn't tell you where I lost it. I was…"
As if on cue, the Avengers theme starts playing. It's Steve's ringtone.
My shoulders relax. "You left it at my house?"
Steve's face doesn't change. My shoulders tense up again.
He slowly turns his head toward the pile of clothes. Warily, I follow his gaze, half-expecting the clothes to burst into flames.
"You gonna get that?" Bucky asks. When Steve doesn't move, Bucky lunges forward into the pile of clothes. "Then I will." Bucky completely bypasses Steve's jeans. He reaches into the pocket of his own leather pants.
He pulls out Steve's phone.
The phone goes quiet, as if it knows it's in trouble.
"Oh, well, maybe they'll leave a voicemail." Bucky looks at Steve and shoots him a coy smile, his head turned away slightly. He wiggles the phone in his hand and then tosses it to Steve.
Steve catches it and leaps off the bed, hurling himself at Bucky. He looks like he's going to whip the phone at Bucky, before realizing it's his phone. "You said you'd let me do it," Steve thunders, his face an inch away from Bucky's.
Bucky's laughing. "I didn't mean for it to ring."
My body un-freezes enough for my jaw to start moving. "You left it in his pants?"
"No, I put it in my pants," Bucky answers, sounding like he knows how not helpful that is.
I'm practically shaking. I feel tiny, even though my eyes are burning and my head's about to explode. "Why -? Pants -?" is all I manage to say.
Steve puts his hand on Bucky's chest, as if in attempt to push him away and get him to shut up at the same time. He looks at me, eyes pleading. "I left it at his house."
There's no more blood in my vessels. My heart is gasping, empty. My mouth is open.
"Be more specific," Bucky plies.
Steve's hand drops from his chest. "On his nightstand."
I'm not there anymore. I'm nothing. I'm a speck of dust on the bed waiting to be vacuumed up.
"I never wanted you to get hurt." Steve sits on the bed in front of this speck of dust. "When Bucky came over tonight, he was going to tell you. I didn't want you to find out like that. I knew I had to tell you, I just wasn't sure…" He looks down. "I know I'm not enough for you."
I shake my head. "Don't say that."
"Tonight didn't go the way I thought it would. I thought it'd be a good idea. I want you to be happy." He's hiding his face. All I can see is the top of his head. "And I want to know who I am."
"Steve." I lean forward and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He puts his face on my shoulder and his arms around my waist. In an instant, my shoulder feels wet. I'm still in shock. I don't know what to say, and neither does he.
"I'm sorry." He sounds tiny.
I squeeze him harder. "I love you."
He raises his head. He looks at me, questioning and disbelieving. "You do?"
I nod. "I fucking hate you right now, but, yeah. I don't care who you are, you're still my best friend, you know."
He squeezes me back and pulls me into him so my face rests against his chest. "I love you, too."
I hear the door squeak open. I snap my head up. Bucky's got his clothes on and is heading out the door. "Wait," I blurt before I can stop myself. But Bucky doesn't even give me as much as a single glance. I rest my head against Steve's chest, listening to his heartbeat with one ear and Bucky's fading footsteps with the other ear.
I hear the echo of the front door slamming shut.
He's gone. My chest collapses. With relief. With disappointment. With longing.
"You're not with Bucky, are you?" I ask.
Steve chokes out a laugh. "No. No way. Well, I was. A long time ago." He shakes his head, looking exhausted. "He's no good, but sometimes I can't resist him. But it's over, it's been over for a while. I need someone who's good for me. I wanted that person to be you, but…"
"It's okay." I give him an understanding look. It's all so fresh, saying the word would just lacerate the wound even more.
"I meant it when I said you're beautiful."
I smile, and it feels so good. "I know. And I forgive you. I know Bucky can be… hard to resist sometimes."
Steve's eyes darken. "Are you going to…?"
I search him for a moment, then balk. "No," I say emphatically. "I'm like you, I'm done with him. Actually, I think I need to be on my own for a while. Be more independent."
Steve nods. "If you ever get lonely, I'm always here for you."
I smile. There isn't a trace of anything but innocence in his words. "I think I'll be okay." I'm surprised by how brave I sound. Is that me talking?
Yeah. I guess it is.
Steve's stomach grumbles, long and low. His cheeks turn pink.
I can't help it – I giggle. His face is priceless.
"Maybe we shouldn't have ignored that pizza guy," Steve says.
"Yeah, maybe."
He smiles. As he puts his clothes back on, he gives me a look, like he doesn't quite believe that I've forgiven him. "I'll call you tomorrow?"
"Yeah." I avert my gaze just a second too early.
After I've dressed, I walk Steve to the front door. Before he leaves, he gives me a single warm, comforting kiss on the cheek.
I have to close my eyes. I still crave him.
But I have to be strong.
