There were hands everywhere, in her hair, scratching down his back, gripping at her thighs harshly enough to leave bruises, gripping onto the muscles of his biceps.
That's how it usually was with Bucky; fast and rough, demanding, passionate, and domineering. He didn't make love, he fucked. He knew what he wanted and he would take it, rather asking for forgiveness and checking she was OK afterwards instead of asking for permission beforehand. That was just how he was, and she wasn't exactly going to complain. It felt too good to be a problem. In these situations she was simply his willing accomplice, prepared and compliant to whatever his plan may be, eager to please.
She focused on his fingertips as they trailed down her thigh, coming to stop at the hem of her skirt, tapping once, twice, before making the trip back upwards towards her waist. He was playing games with her, another of Bucky's habits, one that always kept her greedily coming back for more.
Because that's how she would describe herself, greedy. When it came to Bucky, she was always greedy. She yearned for those touches, dreamt about his kisses when he was not there to fulfill the ache, insatiably jumped on him whenever there was an ounce of suggestion that he wanted her.
His lips pulled away from hers for an instant, and she whined at the loss, but when they quickly latched onto her neck, emphasized with a pinch at the soft, supple skin on her hips, she couldn't stop the gasp that escaped from her mouth. Kiss after kiss, lick after lick, suck after suck; the attack on her neck was relentless, but never overbearing. He knew her limits, he knew where the line was, and despite his ravenous tendencies, he rarely crossed that line.
So when he slowly snapped his head back, removing himself from her embrace almost entirely, it was safe to say that she was surprised. He leaned in again, his nose brushing over hers as he spoke, his breath warm against her lips, the scent of the mint from his toothpaste overflowing her nostrils. She closed her eyes, simply relishing in that moment of closeness, a moment of which was seldom captured between the two of them.
"Tell me what you want."
His voice was low, laced with the want that she was so used to hearing from him. If she knew anything about Bucky, she knew that it was an order, but it was softer than usual, less demanding, more simply asking. It was strange to hear from him, unexpected, but she was never one to disobey an order.
"Please Bucky," you whined. "Make me feel good."
"No, sweet girl." Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. Never before had he said no to her begging, had denied her after she had done what he'd asked her to do. But he continued, and the words that he whispered against her skin next brought goosebumps to her spine. "Tonight you're in charge. You make the decisions. I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."
She blinked slowly. Was he really doing this? Was he really handing over all of the power, all of the decisions, the entire possible outcome of their night together, on a silver platter for her to take? Never before had this been an option, never before had he even suggested it, and she had always been ok with that. But now, the idea of telling him exactly what she wanted, exactly how to please her, was sending shivers of excitement throughout her body.
"Come on sweet girl," he whispered, planting a quick and soft kiss to her lips. "I know you can do it."
"Kiss me."
He didn't disappoint, immediately pulling her into a bruising kiss, his tongue trailing across her bottom lip, darting into her open mouth. He knew exactly what he was doing, he always did. He gripped her thighs tightly, pulling her closer to him. The pair of them hadn't even made it to the bedroom yet, still in the kitchen where he had caught her off-guard earlier with a kiss to her neck.
"Lift me."
Once again, he did as he was told, his grip moving from her thighs to the point where they met her ass, lifting her with ease onto the counter top, never once removing his lips from her own.
"Lower."
She whispered her commands between kisses, the words coming out in gasps rather than the stern demands that Bucky usually made. But he didn't seem to care; if anything he seemed to be edged on by them, pushing him to do exactly what she asked, as if he, for once, was enjoying being without power.
He lips trailed lower, down her neck and towards her collarbone, down to the dip in your chest where her shirt was unbuttoned slightly. He slowly but surely began to unfasten the other buttons, glancing upwards towards her, his eyes connecting with hers as he did so, an action that made her heart flutter, and her mind reel. Her shirt was quickly lost to the kitchen floor, alongside her bra, and his lips swiftly came back into contact with her skin, kissing everything that had been covered only moments ago. Her back arched as he continued his avid onslaught against her chest, before eventually moving lower, past your stomach, down to the hemline of her skirt. She lifted herself from the counter, allowing him access to pull the zipper down the back painfully slowly, before that too was discarded on the floor.
He paused at the sight of her lacy panties, a pair that she had bought earlier that week specifically for a moment such as this, a moment where she could tease him and entice him. He glanced upwards, awaiting his next ruling.
"Take them off."
His fingers slowly and gently hooked around the sides, sliding them down her thighs, letting them go at her knees, two pairs of eyes watching them fall delicately to the floor. She was now on full display to him, and by the sight of his blown pupils, and the way his tongue pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, he was happy.
"Touch me."
That was all she needed to say. Within a moment he was on her, lapping her up, causing her back to arch again, a long, drawn-out moan escaping her lips at the contact. Curses mingled with his name escaped her lips when he sucked on your bundle of nerves, and she truly thought that she would be sent over the edge from only that. He pulled away for a second, glancing up at her, and the sight of him glancing up at her from between her legs alone was enough to give her a high.
"Can I use my hands?" He asked. She could see her slick on his chin, mixing into the stubble on his jawline. The way he asked was so soft, so unlike the Bucky that she knew. She simply couldn't say no.
"Please."
One finger, and then two, and then his tongue returning to it's original spot, and then it hit her. Her legs began to shake, and Bucky used his free hand to wrap them around his shoulders, giving her the support she needed to push yourself through her bliss. When he was sure that she was finished, that she couldn't take anymore, he planted a soft kiss just above her folds and leaned back, waiting expectantly.
"Turn me around." She could barely get the words out - they were so breathy, so much effort simply to speak. But he did as she asked, lifting her from the counter and planting her on the ground, turning her around and leaning her against the marble countertop, ensuring that she was steady enough on her shaking legs as he pressed her back against his chest, slowly pushing her down. "I want to come again."
"I can make that happen."
He reached downwards, but she stopped him, grabbing his wrist gently, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"No. I want to come with you."
The smirk that spread across his lips, still shiny and sticky from her slick, was one she had seen before, one that told her that even if she had the power tonight, he was still getting what he wanted.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder, his breath hot and heavy against her neck as he pulled himself free from his sweatpants, giving himself a stroke as he prepared himself.
"That I can definitely make happen," he whispered into her ear. He was back to the old Bucky, voice rough and low, but without the power, without the demanding tone, without the domineering underlay. This was a new Bucky, a Bucky that could still take whatever he wanted from her, but only if he asked first.
He was inside her in a second, pushing himself in swiftly in one motion. They both groaned in unison as he filled her up, the slight stretch stinging in the best way possible. His hand trailed a line along her spine, bringing back the goosebumps that she was so familiar with around him, until it finally came to a stop in her hair, tangling it at the very roots.
"Move."
And move he did. He started slowly, carefully, a style that he had never used with her before, and she was certain he'd likely never used with anyone before her. It hit her right at the deepest depth inside, bringing new waves of pleasure with each thrust, one that felt like electricity penetrating her body from the very tips of her toes to the ends of her fingers. He stayed at that pace for a while, bringing himself down to plant kisses on her shoulder blades and spine, little whispers of 'I love you' and 'I'll never leave you', silent promises.
"Faster." She needed it, needed him. Needed to feel all of him, to take everything that he had to give her. She was greedy for only one thing, and that was Bucky. "I need all of you Bucky. Give me everything."
"You've got all of me sweet girl," he groaned, speeding up his pace, causing her to cry out his name. It was an assault on all her senses.
She could smell him, his cologne as he leaned against her, pushing himself deeper and harder.
She could still taste his kisses on her lips and tongue, her favourite flavour.
She could hear his grunts and moans and her name escaping his mouth in the same way that his was streaming from her own.
She could see him in the reflection of the kitchen window, his head falling backwards in pleasure, but his gleaming blue eyes always trained on her at all times.
And she could feel him, every part of him, every inch of him, not just inside her, but all around her, his hands on her, his breath on her shoulder every time he leaned towards her.
She could see on his face that he was close, that he was holding on, waiting for her to tell him that it was ok for him to let go, to tell him that se would join him on that precipice and that they'd fall over the edge together, hand in hand. She was ready, she could feel it in the very pit of her stomach, each thrust pushing her closer and closer as his hips snapped against her backside. He wanted the command, wanted to hear her say it. That was his favourite thing usually, his favourite part of any night spent with her; she would always wait, every time, fighting the urge to give in to the pleasure, until the moment that he whispered to her that it was ok, that it was time.
She turned her head slightly, her eyes locking onto his.
"Come for me, Bucky."
He fell over the edge quickly, his grip on her hips tightening enough to leave a bruising pain lingering upon her skin. She felt his hot seed fill her up, and that was what finally threw her over the edge, convulsing around him as he muttered out praises and prayers of her name that loitered on his lips as she rose to the brink of pleasure and came hurtling back down, her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding loud enough for him to hear it through her ribcage.
He collapsed onto her back, their skin sticking to each other in a longing embrace that she never wanted to leave.
"We have to do that again one day."
She chuckled, the sound vibrating through both of their bodies as she spoke.
"I have to say, Bucky. I'm going to agree to that."
