I do not own Captain America anything.

Except the digital copies. They are all mine. Mine, I say! ;)

I Am Machine

*Fair warning: Iced tea chapter ahead. Like you didn't already know. ;) *

Worth the Wait

Amelia smiled and stood up.

"Bucky, if you don't kiss me soon, I'm going to scream."

He grinned.

Rose.

Cupped her face gently in his calloused hands.

Gazed into her beautiful, open, upturned face.

And kissed her.

It was a sweet kiss, tender and thankful and loving and very nearly chaste.

Nearly.

He could feel the warmth of her body, the softness of her lips.

Just like before.

But now everything was different. He was different.

He was better. More stable. Safe.

And knew he was exactly where he wanted to be, with whom he wanted to be.

And he let the kiss linger.

And linger.

Amelia opened her mouth to his just a little.

Just enough to invite him in.

And he went.

Fingers moving, grazing past her temples to slip into the soft fall of her hair.

Feeling her hands tighten their grip on his shirt, her body press more fully to his.

A whisper of a sound escaped her then and completely inflamed his senses.

His entire being throbbed, zeroed in on her physical presence.

He wanted her, he wanted all of her.

He wanted all of her now.

But he couldn't take advantage.

He wasn't going to do that.

So he forced himself to stop. Regretfully break their intimate contact.

And watched those blue eyes open, refocus once more on his.

He wasn't going to lie to her.

Not even by omission.

Not anymore. Not again.

"I can't stay indefinitely, Amelia. Steve said he wants me to come back and fight with them."

The woman in his arms blinked and looked down, as if trying to process this newest information. Then back up to him.

"When?"

He shook his head.

"I don't know."

She seemed to consider this.

"Can you come back when it's over?"

He nodded his promise even as he spoke it.

"Yes."

Relief touched her eyes.

"So you're not leaving right now."

He shook his head again.

"No, I don't think so."

And she smiled.

"Then we've got time."

And reached up for him.

But Bucky leaned back a little, not yet ready to let himself go.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you again. Or Simon."

Amelia's eyes glistened then, her countenance seeming on the edge of breaking apart with emotion at the thought of Bucky's sincere care and concern for her child.

She dipped her head, eyes down. And though present, was removed from him. Rising passion interchanged by sheer force of will for critical thought.

He let her. Because he had asked and he had meant the question.

He was through hurting those he cared for.

Then she raised her face to his again. Looked him straight in the eyes.

"No. It'll be okay. This is my choice. I'll figure it out."

He nodded seriously.

"Okay. If you're sure."

She smiled gently.

"I am."

Then tilted her head, a tiny, playful smirk on her face.

"Unless you don't want me."

And incredulous expression burst onto his face, making her giggle.

"Oh god, Amelia, you have no idea!"

And then he caught her laughing mouth with his own hungry one.

And they stopped talking.

For several long, languid minutes, he was content to simply kiss her.

Taste her. Savor her.

Fingers, hands, human and synthetic, lost in her soft, silky hair.

Before finally beginning to explore her physically, the last and only undiscovered territory remaining in their relationship.

Bucky's hands wandered tentatively, carefully at first, desire tempered by respect of whatever remaining boundaries she might harbor.

Which apparently were now none.

Growing bolder and more sure as she responded with throaty issues of need and pleasure.

As his racing blood, tingling nerves, responded to her caresses as well.

Off going the layers he had recently redonned.

Her hands, smokily light in their touch, traveling up his wrists, the forearms, brushing the sensitive skin of his inner elbows.

Up the muscular biceps to the defined shoulders.

Fingers grazing his collarbones and finally tangling themselves into that dark mane of hair she had adamantly refrained up until now from touching.

Pulling his mouth down into hers, determined for this span of given time to not let him go.

Then she reached down and hooked her hands under his tank shirt, tickling and teasing the taunt skin just above the waistband of his low slung jeans.

Leaving him momentarily breathless as he gasped against her knowing, smiling mouth.

Sliding the garment with her as she ran her palms up the warm sides of his muscled torso.

As she, on her tiptoes, stretched up to pull it over his head.

Catching his arms behind his back now as they kissed more and more urgently, more passionately.

He couldn't get enough of her. Like a man thirsting for water in the desert. The only way to satisfy his desire, his need, was to delve completely into her.

Breath growing heavy, ragged. The heat and ardor rising like pleasant burning fire between them.

Then the discarded cotton fell to the floor and his arms were free again to wrap themselves around her. Hold her tight. Melt her body into his.

Before he, somewhat blind with no longer forbidden desire, reached out to make their state of disrobement equal.

Vaguely aware that he now was the one smiling at her soft sighs and moans. In response to the his hands, his lips, his tongue against her prickling flesh.

They left a trail of scattered clothes and shared laughter and needful murmurs the short distance from the kitchen to her bedroom.

Where they tangled themselves up in one another's ready and eager bodies.

Everything about her, about her and him together, heightened his ache, his need for her.

The way she arched into his touch.

The heady musk that rose between them.

The sight and sounds and feel of her honest pleasure.

Bucky had been with a girl or two in his carefree youth before the Army drafted his body and HYDRA hijacked his mind.

He had treated them well enough. Enjoyed them.

But none of them ever meant anything close to what Amelia did.

And his life, his freedom.

His mind.

"Amelia . . . I love you . . ."

They lay, facing each other, he on his back, she on her side.

Basking in the afterglow of very satisfying, well-deserved, long-awaited physical consumation.

Sweat light and fresh on their bodies, now cooling after the heat of their passion.

Bucky, left arm crooked up, cradling his head as he gazed at her. Muscles and energy pleasantly spent in love, not war. Half smiling at her.

Amelia, eyes half lidded, hair fanned out across her pillow, seeming to be in a happy daze.

"Oh . . . I think I . . . blacked out . . . that was . . . you were . . . it's . . . been a long time."

Bucky tilted toward her a little, reached out his right hand.

Stroking a gentle thumb across her forehead, smoothing back a strand of auburn hair.

She was beautiful always, now even more so with the sunlight dampling her bare skin.

"How long?" he asked playfully.

She closed her eyes, unconsciously licking her lips in a way that made him momentarily forget everything but her moist, pink mouth.

"Uh . . . back in the States . . . Simon was three . . . five years ago? It, uh, didn't go well."

She shrugged.

"Changed my entire perspective on men. And just no guy seemed worth it since then. Up 'til now."

In a fraction of a second, Bucky decided to wait until later to ask her what happened. He didn't want to make her sad now and he also suspected the story would make him angry against whatever faceless idiot had made her unhappy.

And right now, none of that mattered. The past didn't matter.

Only the now mattered.

And Amelia, who seemed to cast the unpleasantness away herself. Stretching lazily, voice almost more sultry than he could bear.

"Don't make me do math after sex, Bucky. My toes haven't even uncurled yet."

He grinned at her,

"What about you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or do I want to know? "

Bucky shrugged a little, almost self-deprecatively.

"Seventy-five years."

His casual tone seemed to floor her and she gaped at him.

"You . . . I . . ." She seemed to search the ceiling for words before finding an entire sentence that might possibly suffice. "I hope it was worth it!"

He laughed, leaning forward even as his hand sought her bare hip, pulling her toward him.

"Yeah, definitely worth it . . ."

She narrowed her eyes at him, faking a stern expression.

"Hang on, you can't just use that 'seventy-five years' excuse every time to get what you want!"

He smiled mischievously, hungry for her all over again.

"Yes, I can."

She laughed then and reached for him.

And he forgot what he was going to say next.

And gladly just devoted all his attention and desire to the woman in the bed with him.

How's that iced tea then? Showing my slightly dated Southern roots here. We drink iced tea to cool off. For whatever reason. ;)

Hopefully it is clear that these two have a deep and meaningful and well developed relationship full of mutual care and respect and trust and loyalty to one another. And not just two pent-up people just jumping each other's bones.

Well, maybe a little bit jumping each other's bones! ;)

Anyhow, thanks to brigid1318, Ruby Rosetta Red, tamarabvillar, Char (Hey, sweetie!), eileanskye, OnYourLeft107, Artemis7448, Sassiebone, God Bless You Guest (thank you, sweetie), and Lowkey Guest (no problem, sweetie, just make yourself happy, okay, just glad you're enjoying) for all your reviews!

Next up, perhaps a little cooling off? Maybe.