All That's Best of Dark and Bright

by Sith Happens

Sam Wilson knew you were a sucker for a tragic tale, and it didn't get much more tragic than Bucky Barnes, did it? So, you opened your home to an ex-assassin with PTSD and memory loss, because you'd be damned if you didn't try to help. Sometimes helping others helps you out, too. (starts disjointed, originally intended as connected drabbles and evolved)

20. Chapter 20

Five days. It was five days since Sam was called away from your home on an Avengers mission. Five days since Steve phoned you up to inform you that Bucky was going with them. Five days without a word from anyone about any of them. Five days of your nerves stretched so taut they probably could have snapped into a million pieces at the slightest of pressure. You had no idea what this mission was, where it was, or how long it was supposed to last. Before, you might have blamed your worry solely on the fact that you knew so little and the long stretch of radio silence. Certainly those things didn't help, but it was useless trying to lie to yourself.

Of course, you worried about Sam and Steve and their well-being; Sam had been your friend for years and you felt like you could call Steve that now, too. Yet, they had come back from many a mission together, more or less unscathed. Besides that, you had spoken to both of them before they left, and though you might not have had some deep conversations about how much either of them meant to you, you at least got to say some sort of goodbye. It was Bucky that ached in your chest. The idea that you might not see his face or hear his voice again, that you didn't get to say goodbye or tell him how you really felt, ate at you. He might have had an episode. He could have been caught by the baddies, recaptured by Hydra, hurt, or even…

For five days, you did your best to occupy your time and your mind with other things. There were a few trips to town. Once, to the market for a few groceries. Your fridge, chest freezer, and pantry had become almost disgustingly empty since Bucky left, and while you weren't exactly ready to start fixing up intricate meals for yourself, it wasn't feasible to keep going for fast food or take out. The closest thing to a fresh vegetable you last ate was doused in a brownish sauce when you picked up Chinese. The last fruit came from a can. It was high time you actually got some decent food back in your house. Though, it was a strange experience being there without Bucky. The cart wasn't nearly as full, overflowing with all the things he liked or wanted to try.

There were a couple trips to the library. All the books in your house had been read and reread a hundred times over already, until you could almost imagine you had them memorized. Picking up a different novel or two seemed like it would be a good idea to take your mind off things. Though, after a couple days, you realized you just weren't able to focus on reading with everything else going through your head. Not wanting to deprive others of a chance to read the books, it seemed best to just go ahead and return them early. You did stop by the DVD section, just to see what might be available, and happened upon the Sci-Fi Channel mini-series Dune and Children of Dune, both favorites of yours and not available on any streaming service you had. Eagerly, you checked them out, deciding movies were sometimes easier to digest for a busy brain than reading. It didn't hurt that copies of the book series sat on your shelves. And Bucky had read and enjoyed them, at least until the fourth book, which you couldn't really blame him for. A 3500 year time jump in a story could be disorienting, even for people who hadn't physically experienced something similar.

But on the evening of the fifth day of what already seemed like an eternity, you decided to go through more of the things in your sister's room instead, leaving the DVDs largely untouched in the living room. With the dishes from your quick dinner already done, you changed into your pajama shorts and t-shirt before getting down to business. Three boxes sat near the door, labeled either keep, donate, or trash. Despite your desire to move on and all the help Sam had provided, it was still a difficult process sometimes. However, it did have the desired effect of taking your mind off your absent friends for a while. There were a few times when you got caught up in the nostalgia of things you found. At one point, you opened a box only to discover your sister's old Walkman with stacks of her CDs.

You brought the box down with you to sit crossed-legged on the floor, ignoring the bite of chilled hardwood on the bare parts of your legs. There was already a CD loaded in the player as you adjusted the headphones to your ears. As if by some miracle, the batteries were still good, so when you pressed the button, your mind was immediately transported back to when you were a teenager. Sitting in the same room, on the floor, you and your sister painting each other's nails while her mix CD played. Alt rock, punk, early metal; her nails getting a thick coat of black lacquer while yours were drying blood red. You could almost imagine the smell of that nail polish, the two of you singing along dramatically to the music. How she ever ended up in the Army, you still couldn't fathom sometimes.

It was a bit disorienting when the music ended. You managed to drift off into your own little world, remembering, not registering much of what had been going on around you. The cat, who previously took up residence on a chair near the window, was no longer sitting there staring into the darkness of night. Putting the Walkman back in the box, you twisted around to look for your phone to check the time, but it was nowhere to be seen. The nightstand in your bedroom. That's probably where you left it when you were changing into your pj's. And sure enough, that's where you found it after grumbling to your feet and rubbing at your tired eyes as you crossed the hallway.

There was a new text notification on your screen when you finally picked it up. Apparently sent quite a while beforehand, received not long after you'd set the phone down to begin with. Sam. You could've kicked yourself for missing it. Heart pounding a little faster in your chest, you pulled up the message.

"Sorry for radio silence all week. Mission was more difficult than we expected. Got back this afternoon, been debriefing. Might have a surprise coming your way."

Relief washed over you as you read the words again. No mention of death or serious injury. Granted, he might not have put that info in a text message, but there weren't any missed calls or urgent requests for you to get back to him. Eyes fixed on your phone, you absently made your way down the hall toward the kitchen to grab some water as you typed a reply.

"Sam! I'm so glad to hear from you! Even happier you're back! I was getting worried, but you know me haha How is everyone? And a surprise? For me? That's nice of you, but you didn't have to do that… Actually, on second thought, yeah you did after 5 days of me being worried shitless LOL"

No sooner had you set foot in the kitchen, snickering under your breath as you pressed the send button, than you stopped dead in your tracks. There was something out of the corner of your eye as you walked down the hall. With your attention on the screen, it took a moment for your brain to catch up. Now that it started to register, you felt a tight ache in your chest. How many times had you seen things, at least at first, after losing someone? Out of habit, out of misplaced hope. Not hallucinations, just the ghosts of memories; turn your eyes that way and they're gone. Yet, you still felt that fluttering behind your ribs, because it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. Because Sam had mentioned a surprise. Because you wanted it more than anything as you clutched your phone tightly in your hand and carefully, quietly padded across the linoleum to the other side of the kitchen, the sliver of doubt still firmly lodged, slowing your progress, but unable to stop it entirely.

When you finally stepped around the wall, bringing the living room into view from the little breakfast nook, your heart jumped into your throat. He was there. Leaning against the back of the arm chair. Familiar red flannel shirt across his broad chest. Faded jeans. Scuffed boots. Long hair down and dark and soft-looking, stubble on his face. The cat rubbed her cheeks affectionately at the metal hand that lay rested beside him. He was there, mouth slightly parted and that line between his eyebrows showing, looking as transfixed by you as you felt by him.

"Bucky," you managed to speak, sob with relief, smiling wide despite the wetness pooling in your eyes.

This seemed to jar him from his stillness. With a few blinks and a quick swipe of his tongue over his lips, Bucky straightened himself. The fingers of his right hand combed through his hair to anchor at the nape of his neck. It made him look nervous, ashamed. "I… forgot to leave my key and you didn't answer the door. Probably should've called ahead, but…"

"I was so worried I'd never see you again," you interrupted, voice more strained than you expected. Admitting even just that little bit made you feel lighter, and soon you found yourself moving toward him.

"Yeah," Bucky breathed in quiet question. He let his hand drop to his side as he looked up at you, expression cautiously hopeful. As you drew closer, you saw the corner of his mouth quirk up just a hint. "Well, y'know what they say. Feed a stray and it'll always come back."

You couldn't help your gentle bark of sniffling laughter or the few errant tears that slid down your cheeks before you reached him, throwing your arms around his neck for a hug. After a beat, Bucky's arms wrapped around your back to pull you flush against his chest, right slung low and left snaked around your ribcage, pressed so tight you could feel both your heartbeats in your skin. Some of the tension eased from his muscles when the fingers of your free hand curled absently through his hair while you murmured "I missed you, Bucky… So, so much."

"I missed you too, doll," he whispered back with a ragged sigh. His thumbs slid against the fabric of your shirt, out of sync and comforting. "Christ, how I missed you."

A tingle slid up your spine and across your scalp when Bucky turned to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Warm breath tickled across your skin nearly as bad as the scruff on his jawline. But you didn't mind that or the fine tremble of his fingers that matched your own. You just held him and wanted to keep on holding him until neither of you could take it anymore. He was there and there was nothing else in the world for a while. So when the text alert on your phone went off, loud in the quiet of the moment, it startled both of you.

"Sorry. It's probably Sam," you offered sheepishly as you both pulled back a little to look at one another. Bucky shook his head slightly, waving off your apology, as he loosened his grip on you. Yet, his hands stayed anchored gently near the small of your back, like he was reluctant to let you go. Even as you felt your face flush at the thought, you weren't inclined to make him. Instead, you rested a hand on his chest as you used the other to pull up the text. But as you read, your face fell.

"LOL I'm guessing he's already there by now. You two have got a lot of catching up to do ;) Be careful with him though. Man might be a super soldier, but he's still human and taking a bullet isn't exactly doctor-recommended."

It took you a moment to process the message, then your gaze snapped up to find a concerned expression on Bucky's face. No doubt, it was a reaction to the look of horror on yours. "You were shot?"

"Jesus, Wilson," Bucky grumbled under his breath. His hands slid from you as he leaned against the armchair once more, eyes barely meeting yours. "I was waiting for a good time to tell you."

"You were shot," was all you could repeat. Your voice was strained to near-cracking, your throat growing tight and raw. The wetness was back at the corner of your eyes and you could feel that sting threatening the back of your nose. It was difficult to breathe with how hard and wild your heart was beating. It was hard to think straight. Eyes darting back and forth over his form, trying to locate the injury, you resisted the urge to start patting him down lest you cause more damage.

"M'okay, sweetheart. Honest. Just a graze. Here, I'll show ya." Bucky's look and tone had suddenly changed, seemingly desperate to reassure you. Nimble fingers, flesh and metal alike, made quick work of the buttons on his flannel, stripping off the outer layer to toss on the armchair behind him, startling the cat away, before he hiked the hem of his t-shirt up around his armpits. On his left side, just below where metal disappeared into the flesh at his ribcage, there was a clean, white bandage affixed to his skin with surgical tape. Carefully, he peeled it away, discarding it with his shirt to reveal a long shallow divot in his side a centimeter wide running from the front of his torso to his back, interrupted only by a few inches of undisturbed skin. It was pale and aggravated pink at the edges surrounded by the sick yellow-green of a fading bruise.

"See," Bucky urged gently as you dropped your phone on the armchair while leaning in for a closer inspection. "Almost completely healed up. Doesn't even hurt. Only got the dressin on to keep from scratchin. Fucker itches like a sonuvabitch sometimes, but nothin to worry about."

"Ah, Buck. Bucky," you whispered sympathetically, sniffling gently against your tears, frantic fear just barely subdued.

Before he could cover it back up, you reached out a shaky hand to press light and delicate over the discolored skin. Bucky's sudden stillness, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath, had you looking up at him, worried your touch caused him discomfort. There was no pain there, though. Just gray eyes studying your features with guarded interest, the furrow in his brow deepened. And suddenly you found yourself overwhelmed with everything. Him showing up after all this. The mission. His wound still under your fingers. Yes, it was nearly healed, but he could have died. Bucky could have died on that mission and the last interaction you would have had with him was a stupid argument because you were too scared to admit you have feelings for him, too scared to take one step when he took so many. Yet, there he was, alive, close enough to touch, to feel his chest rising and falling with every quiet breath he took. Bucky came back to you, when no one else could, and you had a second chance.

The only warning you gave was cupping your other hand against his jaw before leaning in to press your lips to his. Your eyes fell shut, savoring the softness there, the warm exhale across your cheek, the rasp of stubble. But your heart sank, more tears threatening to spill, when you realized Bucky was making no attempt to kiss you back. You pulled away, embarrassed, ashamed; your cheeks flamed as you dropped your hands from him. An assumption had been made on your part. Apparently an incorrect one, and you were certainly making an ass of yourself. Barely managing to glance up at his dazed and uncertain expression, you averted your eyes to the floor.

"Sorry," you croaked out, lower lip quivering traitorously as you backed away. Biting it a little too viciously seemed the only way to settle it while you put distance between the two of you, eventually settling against the little breakfast table. Though you still faced him, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him again while you spoke. "It must seem pretty ridiculous to you; me pushing you away one time and kissing you the next. I was just scared and stupid and confused. I didn't know you felt that way. Hell, I didn't know I felt that way, until it was too late I guess. But you're here now and I… I should've known after… after all this time apart you'd be over whatever infatuation you might've felt."

"Is that what you think this is to me?" Something in Bucky's tone, something fierce and almost offended, had your gaze finally meeting his. The look on his face was disbelieving. "You think I'm some kinda punk ass kid with a schoolyard crush on you?"

"Bucky, I didn't mean…" you started to counter, fearing you'd said the wrong things all over again, but you trailed off when you saw him moving to stand up fully.

"Lemme tell you somethin, dollface," he began a bit hotly with a slow, determined stride in your direction. The intensity in his expression wasn't exactly scary, but intimidating and you couldn't force yourself to look away again. "I spent 70 some-odd years gettin picked apart and rearranged like a goddamn jigsaw puzzle. There are some things I might never figure out cause of the missing pieces I won't get back. And maybe I don't got this all figured out either, and I sure as hell don't deserve it, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand by and let you keep thinkin this is some puppy love bullshit that's gonna up and disappear if I think about it too long."

By that point, Bucky was standing right in front of you. And though you'd been just as close and closer a number of times, you weren't sure you'd ever felt quite this type of vulnerable with him before. Speaking was practically impossible. His words and sentiment had your throat feeling dry and tight. All you could do was stare at him a little wide-eyed where his head bowed over yours at that angle. Tried to breathe into your achy lungs and chest against your wildly beating heart, watching his features soften as he studied your face again with a thoughtful brow. Tongue darting out over his bottom lip, teeth scraping there gently, there was a second's hesitation before Bucky's left hand reached up to carefully brush a few stray hairs from your face. You leaned into the touch, grateful for the cool metal against your heated skin. His thumb passed lightly over your cheekbone before his palm moved to settle against the side of your neck with the fingers curled against your nape. Then, his right hand rose to cup your jawline so achingly tender you thought your heart could burrow right out of your ribcage. They were liberties he'd only hinted at before and you couldn't help the way your insides fluttered.

Bucky said your name gently, in that low, intimate voice you'd come to associate with his open confessions. Now you could accept the physical effect it had on you, drawing goosebumps across your skin and pooling warmth in your belly. "I've seen you, kid. I seen you up and I seen you down, just like you seen me. They made me into a weapon, a monster. I thought that's all I'd ever get to be anymore. You helped show me how to be a person again. Sure, I still got work to do, but with you I just get to be a person. One who's crazy about you. And I am, sweetheart. I am absolutely, goddamn crazy about you."

"Then," you breathed quietly, that overwhelming feeling starting to crash over you again. "Then why didn't you kiss me back?"

"Are you kiddin, beautiful," Bucky countered with an amused huff and a roguish smirk crinkling the corners of his eyes. The pad of his right thumb slipped feather-light across your bottom lip, gentle and reverent, though it was like electric on your skin. "That moutha yours could shut down a city block. Whaddaya think it'd do to a poor fella like me who ain't expectin it?"

You worried at you lower lip, part of you wanting to taste his touch there, but mostly to stifle the laughter that bubbled up inside you. With your fingers wrapping into the front of his shirt, you gave an affectionate tug that drew him just a fraction closer as you craned your neck to smile at him. "You are so full of shit, Bucky Barnes. I'm surprised your eyes aren't brown."

"Yeah, definitely missed the hell outta you," he chuckled low and grinned. Grinned so wide and bright and… and adoring you all but melted, metal fingertips grazing over your shoulder and down your arm to curl easy at your waist. His slow, measured approach was almost mesmerizing as his right hand slid into your hair. "Maybe third time's a char—"

Before he could finish, another quick tug to Bucky's shirt brought him down until your lips met. The sharp intake of breath, the feel of his smirk against your skin sent that fine, fluttery tremble back through your body before he tilted to mold the curve of his mouth to yours. It was hard to say how long the simple, sweet suction lasted. A handful of seconds or a few minutes that were every bit as good as the first kiss. No, better, because this time you weren't scared. This time, you knew exactly how you felt and what you wanted. Pressing your body further into his elicited an unexpected, soft sound from your own throat. Bucky broke away a fraction of an inch, noses still nudged together and barely enough space for you both to fill your lungs, as his right palm trailed down the length of your spine. There was only another moment of shaky breath to see his eyes, half-lidded and dark, the corner of his kiss-swollen mouth, to wonder if you looked anywhere near as needy as he did, as you felt, before he delved right back into the kiss.

It began again, more fervent; the tip of Bucky's tongue coaxing. And you were more than happy to oblige. When your mouth opened just a bit, you returned the little gesture until your lower lip was tucked gently between his teeth while you learned the taste of his cupid's bow. As the kiss deepened, Bucky laved tender, carefully exploring the roof of your mouth, the edges of your teeth, the length of your own tongue. The tickle of scruff across your face was its own little delight, making your heart beat that much faster, weakening your knees. Hardly able to stand anymore, even with his firm hold keeping you upright, you gripped his shirt in both hands to try leveraging yourself onto the table behind you. Bucky seemed to understand and easily lifted you to sit there. The low groan that shuddered through him when you pulled his hips between your thighs made you finally bury your fingers into his dark locks, nails trailing along his scalp. Suddenly, the kisses were harder, lips and teeth and tongues more urgent.

When you finally broke for air, you were light-headed, panting hard to catch your breath. It didn't seem to deter Bucky in the slightest. The silky, sinful glide of his lips under your chin and down your throat turned your already flushed skin unbearably hotter. You bit at your tender bottom lip, fingers still tangled in his hair, and arched with a tiny gasp as his tongue flickered out over the dip in your collarbones. One of his hands splayed wide across your back, bracing you and keeping your body close, fingertips curling into your shirt, mouth scorching back up your neck. It was almost imperceptible, the way Bucky shifted against you. Barely registered in your head until there was the sound of chair legs moving across the hardwood floor. Then, both his arms were around you, his nose nuzzled just under your ear, and he lifted and turned with you. All you could get out was a surprised squeak as you instinctively clamped your legs tighter around him before he sat down on a chair pulled out from under the table with you straddling his lap, toes just brushing the floor.

Bucky slowly breathed warm down the line of your jaw, the sensation and the closeness sending a shiver through you. It ended in a soft press of his lips at the tip of your chin. Tilting your head down earned you another kiss, gentle and lingering. The tips of flesh and metal fingers alike dipped just beneath the hems of your sleep shorts, palms firm against the outside of your thighs. His mouth hovered at yours a moment longer, then Bucky leaned away just a bit to look up at you. Those smoky eyes of his were still dark, soft as they roamed between your eyes and lips. When he tasted absently at his own, it seemed like he was committing it to memory. But you could hear the faintest edge of uncertainty when his tattered voice spoke. "This alright, doll?"

"Yeah, Bucky," you managed quietly, feeling that flush at your cheeks again, though you weren't sure when it had ever left. The way his lashes fluttered shut, the little contented exhale as your fingers slipped from his hair to brush delicately over the side of his face, his jaw, his neck, resting on his strong shoulders; it made your chest feel full and twisted something in your gut. And you wanted to always be able to soothe him like that. "Like you started to say, third time's a charm. Just been a while for me."

"Guarantee it's been longer for me," Bucky smirked. One of his eyes cracked open to look at you, something playful in the gesture while his hands slid up over the fabric on your hips to rest on your waist. They rucked your shirt up just an inch or two, his fingers carefully sweeping over the bare skin exposed.

"So, you didn't…" Your voice sounded smaller than you meant as you trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question, maybe even feeling a little insecure. It had been almost two months and there was no doubt in your mind that even in a broody or taciturn state he could pull a date or two if he really wanted. "Not even when…"

"HYDRA probably wasn't too keen on me havin a love life." There was unmistakable bitterness in his tone, despite how jovial he tried to make his words sound. And the way his fingers flexed and held tighter to you, the angry mechanical whir, spoke of protection against an unseen enemy.

"Not what I meant," you assured gently and cupped his face in your hands, thumbs sliding over his cheekbones until his eyes were focused on you again and he seemed to relax. "I meant you didn't see anyone after you left here?"

A lazy grin spread Bucky's face once he caught on. His hands inched up your skin and urged you to lean in closer to him. "Now, how was I s'pose ta do that when all I could think about was kissin you again?"

The smart remark you were formulating must have shown on your face, because when you opened your mouth to speak, Bucky immediately captured your lips with his own. You melted into it for a moment, let yourself just enjoy the heat of his mouth sealed to yours, the sweep of his thumbs just under your ribcage, the relief of finally. But you were hardly one to let a good line go to waste. Before too long, you broke from the kiss, tilting to pepper a few soft, fleeting ones against his rough cheek until you could drag the sharp edge of your teeth gently along his ear. There was the barest hitch in his breath and he shifted somewhat beneath you, though he left his neck slightly craned for you. Made a little bold by his response, you trailed the tip of your tongue behind his jaw while moving lower.

"Guess the real question is," you smiled mischievous against his neck. Judging from the way his hands smoothed back down your sides, he could feel your expression on his skin. "Can you still even get it u—"

It seemed to be Bucky's turn to interrupt you this time. Lightning quick, hands grabbed your ass firmly and hauled your body tighter to him. No mistaking the deliberate upward press of his hips into yours, or the point he was trying to get across. The feeling of him hard, even through layers of denim and cotton, sent a jolt through you; a soft gasp making your mouth dry. And Bucky's tone was honeyed, but fraying at the edges. "Trust me, sweetheart. Everything's workin just fine in that department."

"Oh," you asked quietly, leaning back to arch an eyebrow as you looked down at him. Tried to keep cool, control the quiver in your thighs, the heat low in your belly that was just begging you to squirm a little. The almost hungry gaze Bucky fixed on you and the way his fingers smoothed languidly over your skin under your shirt was not helping your resolve. "And how did you figure that out?"

"Sleepless nights, long showers," he smirked in reply. Though when he looked away a moment, worrying his lower lip between his teeth with a considering look, you thought you might have seen a bit of color tinge his cheekbones before devilish, darkened eyes found yours again. "The thoughta you fixin your stockings in the hallway."

Both the memory and the admission shocked you, but you couldn't suppress your wide, teasing grin. "Is that the kinda thing that turns on an old soldier like you, Barnes?"

"Certainly got my attention," Bucky chuckled fondly. His right hand started a slow ascent up your spine as he leaned in to kiss along your neck. When his teeth scraped a sensitive spot behind your ear, a muted whimper slipped from your throat and your hips rolled against his of their own accord, chasing pressure at his zipper. There was a sharp intake of breath through his nose, you could feel it across your skin and in your hair, then a lukewarm metal palm stayed your movements in a silent plea.

"Well, y'know, Sarge, you're not the only one with sleepless nights and long showers," you offered in a low voice. It felt strange to be so honest about it, especially after all the time spent trying to deny your feelings. Strange and exhilarating. Spurred on by Bucky's acknowledging hum tingling over your throat and the flex of his fingers at the base of your neck, you decided to lay it all out just like he had. "Thinking of you grabbing my hips and pulling me into your lap in that photo booth. Your body pressed against mine on the dance floor or in that alley…"

"You thoughta me while…" Bucky choked out hoarsely as he pulled back far enough to see your face. For a moment, the embarrassed part of you wanted to take it back. The cautious, unsure part that worried any wrong move could scare him away. But it was out in the open and it was true, so you nodded slightly. A stricken look crossed his face while a lusty, ragged groan rumbled from his broad chest and straight between your thighs, his left hand urging your hips against his once more while he pressed his hot mouth to the curve of your neck again. "Ah, Jesus… Sweetheart… Baby. You could kill a man tellin him somethin like that."

Buzzing with sensation and momentarily at a loss for words, your reply came in the form of fingers tangled through his hair and the arch of your body into his. A gentle tug brought Bucky's face back into view. His jaw was slack and his breathing growing heavy, what was left of focus in his soft eyes fixed on you. It made you feel like the only thing in his world at that moment. Just like he was the only thing in yours. You bent to kiss him proper, full and thorough, wanting to pour yourself into him. Bucky met it measure for measure with the same intensity, until you were starved for air and almost writhing. Until you were delirious, both physically and emotionally, and had to pull away, but only an inch or two, unwilling to go further, as you whispered "Bucky?"

"Don't gotta do anything. Nothin you don't want," Bucky quietly informed, gray eyes barely open, nose brushing yours with your foreheads pressed together, words warm against your skin. He licked his lower lip quickly, swallowing thick despite his heavy breath, before he continued. "Just… please, sweetheart. Please. Lemme keep kissin you."

The plea ached in your chest, like every other time he was so open and vulnerable with you. Except it was bigger now, wasn't it? Made you want to start kissing him and never stop. You brought your hand up to his cheek, light scruff itching at your palm. The delicate skin at your neck would probably be irritated for quite a while after his ministrations, but that didn't really bother you so much. Your fingers moved to brush over his lips and he kissed at each fingertip playfully, making you smile. Then you curled your hand to grip his chin gently, letting your thumb tug his lower lip down a bit before resting at the little divot in his chin; all the while, Bucky looking amused and indulgent.

"Bucky," you said again, sure and even, before leaning down to press chaste kisses at either corner of his mouth. Both times, he followed after your lips like he wanted more, though he dutifully pulled back with a small smile whenever your thumb applied the tiniest amount of pressure. The third kiss was lingering and you let your arms circle around his neck, his hands gripping your waist eagerly, before you broke away again to level him with a hopeful expression. "Take me to bed?"

Bucky regarded you for a long moment, eyes searching your face, probably for any signs of uncertainty. But soon a cheeky grin spread his face as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

It hardly took any effort at all for Bucky to rise to his feet with you still wrapped around him. You stamped down the split second pang of anxiety that sparked in you, crossing your ankles behind his back and adjusting against him more comfortably. Of course, Bucky was strong and had a good hold of you, it just made you feel small and silly enough that you laughed into his shoulder. "Really? You're gonna carry me?"

"More efficient," he shrugged slightly as he started toward the hallway, though that smile still plastered his face. "Besides, I didn't wanna take my hands off you."

"Well, you better not drop me," you teased back before moving in to mouth along his neck and ear and jaw, a few stray locks of long hair tickling at your nose.

"Not a chance, kitten," he responded with a gruff little sigh when you nipped gingerly at his pulse point. Though he did maneuver you so that his metal arm carried the majority of your weight. His right hand came up to brush through your hair before he ducked his head and stole a few quick kisses.

Once inside your dimly lit bedroom, Bucky closed the door soundly behind him without even looking back. However, a few strides in, he paused, presumably at the foot of the bed, and seemed to eye something half amused, half curious over your shoulder. Twisting to follow his gaze brought the large stuffed polar bear into view, laying on your bed with its stuffing unevenly clumped here and there, its limbs in disarray. With a heavy sigh, you buried your face in the crook of Bucky's neck and shook your head a little. Of course, something this silly would happen to you.

"It's childish, I know," you told him sheepishly when you brought your head up again. "But you were gone and you won him for me, so…"

Where you expected to see amusement or mischief or hell, maybe even a dash of ridicule, instead you found Bucky somewhat crestfallen. The look on his face was familiar; shame, self-loathing. His gaze had fallen to the curve of your shoulder and his jaw worked slightly in annoyance. So much like the night he showed up in your room seeking solace after dinner with Steve. It only took a moment to realize what might have brought on the change in his demeanor.

"Bucky, hey," you soothed gently, moving a hand to his cheek, urging him to look at you. You thought about squirming down onto your feet, but his hold was still tight on you and you honestly still just wanted to be close to him. When he finally gave you his attention, you offered a gentle smile and tucked wayward strands of hair behind his ear with an affectionate tug. "You're here now. That's what matters. And we get a chance to make it up to each other."

Bucky's eyes flickered away for just a moment, and you took the opportunity to press your lips to the furrow between his brows. Then, to his temple. His cheekbone. The scruffy spot where you thought one of his rare dimples hid. By the time you reached the corner of his mouth, it was already pitched upward. He turned his head enough to kiss you directly as you felt him start to move again. There was the sound of mattress springs before you were being carefully deposited on the bed.

"You're ridiculous, you know that," Bucky mused with a shake of his head, tone almost laughing, leaning above you to set the polar bear on the floor beside the bed.

"Of course I do," was your proud chuckle. When he moved back down to kneel between your legs, body hovering just inches above yours, you used your fingers to comb back the curtain of dark hair that surrounded both your faces. "You still like me though."

Something in the familiar, soft expression that crossed his face said more than just like. A knowing smirk quirked his mouth before he tilted in to ravish your neck. The sensation soon had your head falling back on the mattress, back arching to give him free access. Your fingers kept a loose hold in his hair even as your body pressed into his. But it was the needy little moan that escaped your throat beneath his lips that seemed to make his ministrations more urgent.

"Can I see you, sweetheart," he asked quietly into the skin behind your jaw. There was a trace of whine in his voice, a gentle desperation, the promise of which made it a bit difficult for you to breathe. Bucky shifted his weight to his metal elbow, causing his hips to rock into yours, right hand skimming down your side to barely press his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. "Can I touch you? Taste you?"

For a second, all you could do was nod absently, enjoying the weight of his chest and the feel of his mouth and the faint, enticing grind of his pelvis against yours. Scratching your nails lightly at his scalp, you finally managed to breathe out "Yes, Bucky. Please."

It took a moment or two, but eventually Bucky dragged himself away from your neck, trailing his lips along your torso as he slid down between your legs, your hands slipping from his hair. He nosed his way under your shirt, kissing low on your belly, making your muscles contract instinctively with your little gasp, before he began to slowly inch the clothing upward, a strong hand on either of your sides. Every so often, another kiss was planted on your skin, higher and higher, like he was savoring the reveal. When your fingers petted over his hair again to brush back the tickling ends, you could feel him nuzzle in a bit and thought you might have caught a hint of a smile there. The edge of the fabric soon threatened the undersides of your breasts and paused. A peek down at Bucky found him gazing up at you, eyes heated, before his thumbs slipped gingerly over the delicate, exposed flesh, tongue tracing along after metal. Your soft airy exhale was met with the slightly quicker movement of his hands to rid you of your top, which you helped by lifting your shoulders and tossing the offending article away. Barely a second later, Bucky was tasting and suckling sweet at your right nipple as his fingers caressed the other. It was easy to just let your eyes close and revel in the attention; to cant your hips a little to let him know just what he was doing to you.

Seemingly satisfied with his efforts for the time being, leaving you achy with need and your skin flushed and sensitive to every touch, Bucky's mouth began to travel back down over your stomach. Both metal and flesh fingers hooked in the waistbands of your shorts and panties as he slipped his shoulders under your knees. An anticipating breath caught in your throat when he began to tug the fabric toward your feet, but it was only an inch or two before he leaned in to press a kiss into the bend of your left thigh where it met your hip. The location combined with the plushness of his lips and the scruff on his face and the long hair against your skin had you twisting away a bit with a huff.

"Tickles," you answered the concerned question in his eyes when Bucky glanced up at you. Mischief flashed across his face then and you were too slow and powerless to stop the onslaught of quick fleeting kisses and the scrape of his teeth that made you jump in surprise. He buried his face into the crease there and roughed your skin with his stubble and the ends of his hair, even blew a few raspberries for good measure until you were squirming and sputtering out laughter beneath him, trying to tug at his hair, practically squealing "Quit it, Bucky! Cut it out!"

When he finally showed you mercy, leaving off with his playful attack, Bucky grinned at you wide and bright. Triumphant. Happy. It stuttered in your heart as you smiled back. He turned his head to trail a few lingering kisses along your inner thigh before ducking his head out from between your legs. The move tousled his hair and he gave a little shake to get it to fall back into place while crooking your knees over his right arm. A trace of that grin still quirked the corners of his mouth as he slipped both hands beneath you, gripping at your waistbands again. You lifted your hips so he could slide them off and you could feel the deliberately slow and steady drag of his knuckles over your ass and down the backs of your thighs. The sensation added to the slight chill in the air sent a gentle shudder through you.

"You're so soft," Bucky whispered into the skin above your right knee, tone bordering on revelatory. Lithe fingertips glided up your opposite leg, feather-light and tender, as he stretched out beside you to prop himself up with a metal forearm in the mattress near your head. You watched his eyes follow the movement of his fingers while they journeyed over your hip and up your torso. He seemed to be studying, memorizing every detail of your body with rapt attention, barely breathing, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth despite a quiet smirk. And though you weren't used to such intimate scrutiny, you let him continue uninterrupted until he was delicately tracing your collarbone and the length of your jawline and brushing the backs if his fingers down the curve of your neck. The shaky breath he let out fluttered against your shoulder before he said "And you're even more gorgeous than I imagined."

"Sweet talker," you teased with a slight chuckle before reaching up to tug at his shirt a little impatiently. "And you're overdressed. It's making me self-conscious."

A toothy smile flashed across his face, dimples and all, as Bucky huffed out a laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in close against him. The new angle had him partially leaning over you from his position on his side and something about it felt warm and safe. He took a moment to swipe the hair out of his face before resting his arm across your midsection once more and gazing down at you with a wolfish smirk. "A bit eager, huh, sweetheart?"

"Maybe," you cooed in counter. Lifting your chin in mock defiance brought your face closer to his and you purposefully brushed the tips of your noses together. The playfulness that shone in his eyes was somewhat intoxicating with your bodies and mouths so close to each other. It lent you a bit of boldness as your fingers gently wrapped around his right wrist where his hand sat splayed across the side of your rib cage and began to drag his touch lower and lower on your stomach. When he seemed to understand your intent, gentle curiosity gave way to a heated, hungry gaze and a devilish smirk.

Bucky's attention never left your face while his hand slipped between your open thighs, touch tentative and exploring. Yet, as your eyes fluttered shut and your breath hitched at the sensation, he leaned down to all but smother you in another hot kiss. It must have surprised him to find just how slick and ready you were for him because he let out a deep rumbling groan when you canted your hips up and he easily slid a lithe digit inside you, soon followed more carefully by another; his mouth swallowing up the little sounds and sighs you made. He broke the kiss then, ghosting his lips down your chin and jaw and neck while you arched beneath him, writhed at the achingly slow pace of his fingers. There was no confusing the feel of his smile pressed into your shoulder at the somewhat shameless way you ground yourself against the heel of his hand, body begging for more. You wrapped your arms around him to press both hands under his shirt, fingertips desperate to map out the muscles in his back that bunched beneath his skin while he held himself above you.

"Bucky," you whined quietly, already feeling like a mess. A gasp escaped your throat when his thumb brushed over your sensitive flesh, that tightness in your belly starting to coil. The spasm of pleasure inadvertently had your nails digging into his back, made him buck against your hip with his own shocked noise muffled in the curve of your neck, and you could feel just how much harder he'd gotten.

"D'ya got somethin, sweetheart," he breathed hot against your jaw, voice tattered, before leaning back to look down at you. His hand slid away from between your legs, despite your disappointed whimper, to spread still damp finger tips against your stomach. And though his eyes were still dark, it took a second before they could meet yours, a reticent, imploring look on his face and an endearing tinge of pink coloring his cheeks that brought a little smile to your face. "Y'know, like protection?"

"Haven't had much call for condoms in a while," you admitted sheepishly, but you couldn't help tease for teasing's sake. Even if you were naked under someone you could now admit you'd been pining for. "Why, did you get into a different kinda action overseas, Sarge?"

Bucky shook his head with a fond, amused huff. "Nah, clean billa health, doll."

"Same," you assured with a slight nod. It didn't seem quite the time to go over several decades' worth of changes in the medical field, so you settled with a simple "I'm on birth control meds for other reasons, though."

"Birth control," he repeated thoughtfully, brow pinched a little and worrying at his lower lip in consideration. When you nodded again, he quirked a smile before sighing as he moved back in toward you. "Well, God bless the twenty-first century."

The chuckling grin you gave him was soon overtaken by his lips on yours, tongue delving in and teeth scraping and scruff itching at the tender skin. Your fingertips slipped from around his back to trace where the denim of his jeans rode low on his hips before they hooked two belt loops to tug him that much closer. When you pulled back to catch your breath, your voice sounded husky in your own ears. "Does that mean you still wanna do this?"

"Oh, sugar," he practically purred against your cheek, mouth pressing hot kisses along your jaw. "I don't think you know how bad I've wanted you."

"I think I might have an idea," was your low, playful response. At your current angle, Bucky's lips skimming across your neck, you managed to twist around enough to capture his ear between your teeth gently as you popped the button on his jeans.

There was a hitch in his breath, more felt than heard over the sound of his zipper, when he stilled above you. Palm flat against his abs, you slowly pushed your hand beneath the fabric. A somewhat vicious sounding little noise whirred from his left arm as you oh so delicately wrapped your fingers around the warm weight of him, metal and flesh hands gripping the bedding at either side of you so tight you half-expected to hear it rip. The experimental stroke you gave had Bucky hissing in pleasure before his teeth sank shallow into the skin near your shoulder. You gasped sharply and instinctively clutched at the back of his shirt, feeling his hips trying to rock into the firmer hold of your fist and your own muscles fluttering in anticipation.

"Ah, Christ, babydoll," Bucky panted apologetically after a moment, peppering tender little kisses around where he'd surely marked you with his mouth. "S'been so long since someone's touched me so sweet."

"Mmm… It's alright, Buck," you replied quietly, carefully moving your fingers over him again, making him shudder slightly. With a bold, wicked grin, you added "Though, I might be a little curious to see how you'd react to my lips instead."

An airy, laughing moan skittered across your clavicle, dark and smoky, sending a tingle down your spine. "Not this time, kitten. I get that pretty little moutha yours on me, I know I'll be done before I even get started. Right now, I just wanna be inside you. Wanna make things good for you, sweetheart."

"Then you… you better start by getting these off," was your hoarse, stilted whisper as you tugged his shirt in one hand and moved the other to push at his jeans and underwear, the promising words of this time echoing in your mind.

Wicked smirk firmly in place, Bucky moved to ply you with a lingering kiss. He gently pulled your right hand from its place at his pants, hooking his thumb with yours to brush his lips over your knuckles before resting it on your stomach. Your other hand you dropped on your own as he rolled to sit up beside you. When he bent forward to untie his heavy boots, you twisted up onto your knees to crawl behind, felt his hot gaze until you knelt at his back. Rucking the fabric of his shirt up revealed taut muscles, moving gracefully under skin while he dropped his boots to the bedroom floor, and a few fine, faded scars that you traced with a fingertip, wondering absently if they might be as old as you or older. You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and were rewarded with an almost inaudible sigh when your palms smoothed upwards.

Bucky reached back to pull his shirt off, discarding it haphazardly, by the time you reached his shoulders. Your hands worked their way through his hair to twist and tug the soft locks off to the right, out of your way. Another kiss at the nape of his neck actually made him shiver. Fingertips trailed over skin until they met metal, thumb meandering the ridge of thick scars. while your other hand swept around to hook under his chin, urging his head back a little. Bucky's whole body froze suddenly, nostrils flaring, and you stopped just as quick. Perhaps your touch across his throat, no matter how delicate you'd tried to be, was too much. Might've dragged up some terrifying memory when you'd only meant to make things as good for him as he wanted for you. But before you could let go or apologize, Bucky relaxed into you, tilted his head to rest against your shoulder, looking up at you with that soft expression. It made your chest ache to know how much trust it must have taken, how much he must have in you, and you leaned in to cover his mouth in a few gentle kisses before dotting more through the scruff of his jaw and neck, over smooth muscle, and against the marred skin where metal disappeared into flesh. Your thumb swiped lazily over the scraped plates and flecks of red; all that remained in a discolored outline of the star once emblazoned there.

Some of Bucky's weight shifted back onto you and you gladly took it as he quickly raised his hips just enough to rid himself of his last articles of clothing. Once those were tossed away, he startled you by deftly swinging his torso back toward you, snagging you with his left arm around your waist and a playful growl buried under your chin, to pull you down beside him on the mattress. Your surprised squeak had him chuckling even as you weakly shoved at his chest, scrunching your nose at him in a bratty look for his effort. When he finally loosened his grip on you, though never letting his touch stray too far, you decided it was your turn to study the naked body before you. Just like he did with yours. Though, you couldn't help feeling you got the better eyeful.

You ran a hand down his closest leg, hooking your fingers in at the knee to draw your nails back up his muscular inner thigh. It made him twitch against his stomach, smearing a bit of wetness on the skin there. A sharp intake of breath and the flexing of metal fingers at your hip met you when you gently cupped a hand between his legs before running your fingertips along the underside of his shaft. You didn't tease him long though, deciding instead to move onto his stomach and chest. There certainly was plenty to admire in the lines and planes and tautness that made up the body of Bucky Barnes, but you couldn't help how your mind wandered. How something about it all still somehow echoed vicious strength and brutal discipline and years of being used for nothing but. And yet, despite all that, Bucky still sighed at the glide of your fingers on his skin. Still kissed you tender with gentle lips and soft eyes. It was almost too much for you to contain.

"Your wound," you said quietly, trying to control the emotion in your voice, when your touch drew closer. Some of the bruising had disappeared and the pale stripe of damaged skin had closed in on itself a little. You had figured he would heal fast, Sam had mentioned it was a side effect of Steve's serum and probably would be for Bucky's, but it was still amazing to see.

Bucky, for his part, made a show of looking unimpressed, swiping a hand over it before giving a small shrug. Then, in a deadpan voice, replied "I've heard kisses make booboos feel better."

Eyes wide in shock, remembering the exchange from the clothing store all that time ago, the laugh you sputtered out was far from the sexiest sound you've ever made. Bucky didn't seem to mind one bit though, only grinned proudly even as you shoved at his chest again. "Goddamn it, Bucky! You did not just say that!"

"Pretty sure I did," he teased back, eyebrow raised in a smug expression.

You lunged for him then, tossing your arms about his neck and shoulders and pressing yourself against him as you smothered that smirk on his face with a kiss. Bucky grabbed you tight and fell back into the mattress so that you stretched along his chest. A low groan bubbled up from his throat and around your hungry mouths when you moved to straddle his waist; angled your hips to grind slick skin against the hard length of him, reigniting that ache inside you. His hands slid down your spine to grip your ass and hold you still, kissing you fiercer. Though when you nipped at his bottom lip harsher than you meant, his own hips snapped up, dragging his tip across your clit and making your back arch with a whimpering gasp. Kiss broken, Bucky leaned up to mouth at your craned neck and rocked his hips once more. The moan it elicited was met with a lap of his tongue at the hollow of your throat.

It took a few heartbeats for your head to stop reeling. And when it did, you pressed your hands over Bucky's heaving chest to sit up, resting back against his lifted thighs to brush your fingers down his abs and flex your nails around the muscles there. Glazed, storm-gray eyes watched intently as you lifted onto your knees, though they fluttered and burned hotter when you maneuvered so he was just pressed at your opening. Finally, finally, after feeling his hands move to lightly grasp your hips and the twitch of his stomach under your palms, you slowly started to slide yourself down around him. Every single muscle between your waist and your thighs quivered at the stretching fullness, not a trace of pain or uncomfortable pressure with how much you'd been teasing each other. So good you hadn't even realized your eyelids had slipped shut until they cracked open again to peer down at Bucky laid out beneath you.

There was a pinch to his brow, something like concentration with his lower lip tucked tight between his teeth. Yet, his hooded gaze was still locked on you as though he didn't want to look away. Fingers bit tighter into your skin, but not enough to hurt or distract you. His attention was eventually interrupted when you pulled off him just a bit, adjusting to his size, before seating yourself fully with a firm roll of your hips and a quiet sigh. The way his head fell back, dark hair fanned against the bedding, strong scruffy jaw going a little lax with a throaty grunt as his eyes closed; it made you tremble just as much as the feel of him deep inside you.

"Alright there, old man," you teased gently, smoothing your hands along his chest as you squeezed yourself around him, wanting to move, but wanting to savor the moment at the same time.

"Hell yeah," came his breathless chuckle, an almost dopey grin plastered on his face, before he blindly grabbed at all the pillows on the bed to stuff under his head and shoulders so he was propped up some. Watching the process made you snicker to yourself until his attention turned back to you. It was that warm gaze again, like he couldn't get enough of just looking at you, with a lazy smirk that made your face flush, almost made you want to hide. Both of Bucky's hands slid up your thighs, but while his left settled at your hip, his right traveled over your stomach to your sternum and back down again, fingers roaming absently, and his voice was distant when he took a deep breath and spoke again. "God, sweetheart. You feel like heaven."

All you could do for a moment was smile at him fondly and give a disbelieving shake of your head. When you eventually leaned over him to steal a kiss, Bucky wound flesh fingers through your hair, holding you fast to lave his tongue in your mouth and nibble at your lips and kiss you like he was starving. It was only a matter of time before his other hand palmed at your hip carefully as it urged you into a gentle undulating motion, aided by the fluid, rocking of his pelvis into yours. For a little while, you managed to muffle each other's ecstatic little noises. At least until Bucky started to thrust in earnest and it took a bit of effort to fill your lungs.

The only protest from Bucky was a concerned look when you sat upright again, trying to catch your breath and steady the tremble in your thighs. Your answer was a reassuring look and a rolling grind of your hips to let him know you weren't calling it quits just yet. His hands fell back to your hips even as yours anchored on his chest so you could start to ride him slowly. That hard heavy drag of him and the new angle had you biting at your lip, barely managing to hold back the wanton little sounds that tried to escape. When you dared look down, a shiver licked up your spine despite the sheen of sweat that was beginning to form on both of you.

Bucky looked like he was just barely holding it together himself. The muscles in his jaw worked tightly, brows furrowed with something akin to concentration as he panted. Fingers twitched at your skin like they wanted more but weren't quite sure of themselves. Hooded eyes, focus solely on you, seemed to finally notice you watching. It must have been enough to make up his mind, because his right hand slid up to cup your breast, thumbing over the nipple and squeezing lightly. You arched into his touch, not realizing how bad you'd wanted it again until it was there. At the same time, canting his hips just right pulled a gasping moan from you despite yourself. A short, triumphant chuckle, barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears and the sound of your bodies moving together, fell from his lips and he repeated the act again and again until you started to keen. And you didn't even mind; wanted more, in fact. With your brain a bit of a blank mess, you gripped his left hand at your hip, intending to bring it up to your other breast. But Bucky hesitated, pulled away somewhat, while he slowed to a stop beneath you, much to your confusion.

"Nah, sweetheart. You don't gotta." Bucky shook his head slightly, reticence in his eyes. It took your jumbled brain a few seconds to realize the problem. He'd touched you with his prosthetic hand here or there throughout everything, but for the most part kept it safely out of the way or someplace less delicate. As if he were still worried and ashamed over it. As if he still thought it might bother you.

"Ah, Bucky," you chided at him gently, taking a breath the focus past the desire to keep moving your body. A small pull and he let you move his arm again, bring a metal palm to rest against your cheek where you nuzzled against it a little, your other hand holding his flesh one and swiping a thumb slowly across the back of it. "I told you before, it's a part of you."

Slowly, almost excruciatingly so, letting his intent gaze watch and giving him time to pull away if he truly objected, you pressed his fingers carefully downward. Lips parted a bit in wonder, it seemed to mesmerize him, the smooth drag of metal along your skin. His thumb brushed delicately against your jaw, your throat, your collarbone, until two strong hands were kneading at you gently with very little coaxing. You began to move your hips again, sighing soft and ragged, peering down at him through heavily lidded eyes over the curve of your cheek as you arched once more. "I trust you, Bucky. And I want every part of you."

Barely a heartbeat past before Bucky breathed in sharply. In no small feat of muscle control and strength, he bent up at the waist to wrap his arms around you and capture your mouth with his own. The surprising move knocked you off balance, but he caught you with metal fingers around the nape of your neck, sweat-damp tendrils of hair winding themselves around them, his other arm crossing low on your back to keep you close. It was easy for him to lift you up to adjust your legs around his waist before sliding you back down on him, thrusting up with those enhanced abs and thigh muscles. He kissed you hard and thorough until you were breathless, dizzy, hardly able to think straight, and grinning so stupid against his mouth it seemed to affect him too. Though, one errant thought caught in your mind, so that when he pulled back enough to let you breathe, your shoulders were shaking slightly with laughter.

"What," he asked sweetly, thankfully amused by your reaction instead of put off. He nuzzled his mouth against your cheek and asked again. "What're you gigglin at, huh?"

"No, nothing," you shook your head a little. With your fingers entwined in his hair, you tried figuring out the best way to maneuver in the new position he had you in. But even when you eventually managed to rock your pelvis into his, it didn't chase away the curious crook of his eyebrow for very long. "Really, Bucky. It was silly."

"Tell me anyway. I like knowin what makes you laugh," Bucky urged as his lips traveled to your jaw. His right arm tightened around you just a little and he thrust with a slight circular motion, almost certainly showing off considering the cocky smirk you felt against your neck when you let out a gentle moan.

You dragged your nails across his scalp, tugged his hair just a little mean as payback and were rewarded with his pleasured hiss and a playful nip at your shoulder. Still, when you chanced a smug peek down at him, his expression was expectant. You pouted at him with an annoyed groan. "It's embarrassing."

"Baby, I'm buried so deep inside you, I can feel your heartbeat," he crooned, voice all smoke and honey. Between that and the way he punctuated the statement with a hard thrust, you felt your cheeks flare hot and your stomach flutter. "Think we're past bein embarrassed."

"Promise you won't think less of me," you asked somewhat breathlessly. You were starting to get flustered. The tone his voice had taken and how he guided you to lean back somewhat so his lips could skim down your chest and he could move both of you together in an achingly slow, but steady pace.

"Promise." Bucky's response was barely above a whisper before his mouth closed around one of your nipples.

Sucking in a breath, you closed your eyes and arched into the suction and nibbling. It jolted you a bit and you could feel that liquid heat coiling low in your gut once more. Every little sensation was so on edge a moment past before you could swallow around your dry throat to speak again, though it managed to come out a little broken with your heavy breathing. "Wondered if… if your arm might have a… a vibrate setting."

Everything stopped suddenly. Your bodies gliding against each other. Bucky's mouth on your skin. In fact, he pulled his face away entirely, leaving your nipple taut and achy and chilled. It made you cringe. Leave it to you to ruin the moment. Couldn't have just come up with something else. Not that your brain was necessarily firing on all cylinders given the circumstance. You worried at your lower lip, afraid to look at him. But after a few drawn out seconds, you felt metal graze from the back of your neck around to your jaw, grasping your chin gently to give a soft shake. When you dared crack your eyelids open, Bucky was staring at you with a feral grin and dark, dark eyes.

"Goddamn, sweetheart, where have you been all my life," he teased with a slight growl. You only got out a small, confused noise before he tugged you in for hard kiss. All teeth and tongue and rougher than you expected, it shocked you almost as much as when he pulled back just enough to whisper hotly at the corner of your mouth with a wicked chuckle. "Naughty little thing, aren't ya? Y'know, I could talk to Stark about an upgrade…"

"Bucky," you tried to scold, scandalized, but even if you hadn't sounded like a breathless mess, you knew it would prove ineffective. The tremble that ran through your whole body was enough to give you away when his left hand smoothed down your torso to palm delicately at your breast, thumbing gently until it ached as much as the other had.

"Would ya like that, sugar? Me bein able to do that," Bucky purred into the hinge of your jaw. A sigh escaped you as he began to work his hips into your again, quicker this time, though his hand crept lower. Your attempts to thrust back were foiled at the feeling of his thumb hooking between your two bodies to carefully rub against your clit. As your back shot straight with a gasp, he panted into your neck happily. "Yeah, y'would. Think my pretty baby'd like that a lot."

"Jesus, Bucky," you managed to spit with little ire. It was hard enough to think around the feel of him moving inside you and his thumb and fingers working against your sensitive spots. "The mouth you've got on you."

The weak chastisement did absolutely nothing to derail Bucky. In fact, it seemed to spur him on, nipping at your collarbone with a firmer roll of his pelvis. "Don't worry, dollface. Planned ta get this mouth on you later."

Just the thought of it and the sound of his voice thrumming across your skin had you moaning low despite yourself. He continued to thrust, pulling you down onto him to reach even deeper; long, drawn-out drags and short, quick ones like he didn't want you to get too used to one or the other. A particularly sharp snap of his hips accompanied by the slow stroke of his finger made you tug his hair tighter, cry out louder than you expected, followed by a whimpered "Bucky…"

"God, you say my name so sweet." His voice sounded strained, babbling husky against the curve of your neck, like it was all he could do to hold back. "And you feel so good. Always so good to me, my good, sweet girl."

It was becoming all too much for you. Every one of your senses sharpened fine, but only able to focus on Bucky and the way he was making you feel. Muscles coiling, close to snapping under the pressure. Overheated skin flushed and sweat-slick. The sound of heavy breathing and the eagerness of your bodies moving together. His strong hands, both at your hips now, urging you closer and closer as he tasted at your skin and you dug your nails at his shoulder for purchase like you were drowning. He groaned at the act and thrust deep, making you cry out again in a tight, stilted sound, knowing you were about to go over the edge.

"That's it, baby. That's it," he encouraged, pleaded, breathless and shaky, pace picking up as he held you close. "Just let go. C'mon. I gotcha. M'right here. M'right here, sweetheart."

Your sudden shout was muffled by Bucky's lip as you came apart against him, around him. On instinct, you bucked and whined and clawed and shamelessly used him to ride out the waves of pleasure that overtook you. It lasted. It lasted so much longer than you expected, especially with Bucky still moving inside you, eyes screwed shut and fingers gripping tight at your skin, though he had slowed considerably. But even in your hazy, ecstatic mind, you weren't having any of that. With barely a moment to catch your breath and wanting him just as pleased and spent as you were, you mouthed at his neck and rolled your hips a little sloppily, walls still spasming around him. It took him a moment and a deep shuddering breath before he began to thrust again.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," Bucky murmured into your hair, tone on the verge of wrecked, right hand roaming up your back to clutch at you just as tight as his left. When you tilted up to nip lightly at his ear, he let out a groan and drove into you quicker. "Ah, Christ, baby, dunno how long m'gonna last."

A gentle whine escaped your lips as they ghosted against the hinge of his jaw. You canted your hips, opened them wider, squeezed around him. "Want you to. Please, Bucky."

That seemed to work him up a little and his thrusts became deeper, more erratic. And he sounded rushed and desperate when he spoke again. "Can I, sweetheart? Are ya sure? God, you feel so good on me. I wanna… Jesus, I wanna fill you up so bad. So bad."

"Yes, Bucky. Please," you whimpered against his rough cheek, nuzzling in to scratch up your lips and chin and nose. "Wanna feel it."

A thick, audible swallow sounded from Bucky's throat and you felt him nod slowly. Both arms came down to wrap around your waist and hips, angling you just the way he wanted as he moved fast and hard. He turned his head to catch you in a quick kiss, brushed his nose along yours, pressed your foreheads together. His eyes were already hooded, even as he tried to look into yours, but soon they closed as his muscles strained beneath his skin. And you both panted and gasped into each other's mouths when he began to slam his hips against yours. It wasn't long before he suddenly pulled you in flush, buried deep inside you, and gave out a small, strangled cry that you swallowed up in a kiss. You could feel him spill inside you, twitching violent between your tight, fluttering walls. A few final, shallow thrusts and you knew he was spent by the way he let even just a bit of his weight sag into you.

Bucky slid his lips down your chin and jaw with lazy suction, until his face was stuffed in the crook of your neck, breathing deep. You held his lax body close to yours with your fingers carding through his hair and tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Though even as your body settled, your mind began to wander. It was so warm there, wrapped up together like that, wonderful and comforting, and you wished you could stay that way forever. With this man who made you feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. Wished you could always help him be at peace like this. Remembered how scared you had been to feel this way about him and how much it hurt when he left, thinking you didn't want him. How close he'd come to being gone forever. But he was back now. He was back and you never wanted to let him go again.

The burn of tears prickled at the edges of your eyes and you tried to stifle them as silently as possible. Still, Bucky must have heard something in your breathing, or maybe just known, because he pulled back to offer you a concerned expression and in a quiet voice asked, "Baby, are you cryin?"

"No, no," you denied it with a shake of your head. Yet, of course, when you blinked, a few treacherous tears broke free to slip down your cheek. You sniffled in annoyance, rolled your eyes at yourself with a huff. "Yeah, okay. I'm crying. A girl's allowed to get emotional sometimes. No poking fun."

"Ah, sweetheart, never. Not a chance in hell," he assured gently. His hands moved to cup your face, thumbs so tender as they swiped at the dampness there that it threatened to create more.

You chuckled at him wetly, trying to settle yourself. Pressing your hands over his, you gave a tap to the metal plates. "Careful, there. Don't want you to rust."

Bucky beamed at you, absolutely adoring, and urged you closer to him. "C'mere, you."

The kiss he pulled you into was sweet and sloppy. He cradled your face a few moments more before his fingers wound in your hair, caressed down your neck and shoulders, but it was comforting more than enticing. Not meant to heat you up, just to calm you down. It went on for a long while, until your skin had cooled from all the previous exertion and you could feel Bucky softening inside you. The slight trickle between your legs made you feel self-conscious, and maybe even a little dirty in a good way, if you were being honest with yourself.

"I should probably go clean up," you told him, having dragged your mouth from his long enough to breathe deep.

"In a minute," he replied, tone coaxing. Bucky gathered you in closer, arms wrapped around your back. That soft expression was back on his face as he quirked a smile at you. "Just wanna hold ya for a little while longer, that's all."

You nodded at him with your own grin, circling your arms around his neck and shoulders and nuzzling your lips and nose in the crook there. His fingers and thumbs traced along your skin gently and you let yourself relax against him entirely. The low sigh that escaped him was almost silent as he pressed his cheek into your hair. James Buchanan Barnes: deadly assassin, struggling super soldier out of time, romantic sap. God, how you loved him.