I know you've all been waiting for this! Just a warning for some of my younger readers, this chapter contains unprotected sex. I know y'all are smart enough to know better.
The window burned against my forehead, teasing me with just enough of the welcome heat outside that my toes curled in anticipation. Dr. Sally twisted back and forth in her perch atop the swivel stool, fountain pen tucked between painted pink lips and a clip board pressed to the tip of her nose. The spines of over a dozen hard back and well-read booked held up my back as I sat with my legs pulled to my chest on the window sill. One arm was extended to offer up my blood to the collection tube Sally inserted a few minutes prior. The other fingered the locket Dorothy deemed me worthy to inherit.
Across from me, Bucky sat with his arms folded over his chest and his long legs stretched out on the ground crossed at the ankles. The sun pierced through the opaque clouds shinned down like a spotlight, singling him out from the landscape behind him, which was quickly turning dreary with the oncoming night.
"This is all just precautionary, in case something has changed since our last encounter. From what I understand, however, the mixing of the Asguardian blood, along with several chemicals whose formulas mankind is not equipped to break down yet, led to what we humans can only observe in the very young. You know how a mother imprints on her baby? She is the first person that new born sees, so they are tethered together for the rest of their life. The best I can explain it, after you died and came back, the serum allowed this to happen to you, only on a far more…let's say primary level." Sally clasped her hands, frustrated with the rudimentary explanation, but unable to break it down any further.
"So, I'm like her kid?" I asked.
"Ok, that was a bad route. Let's try this one. So, a puppet master designs a puppet to be its own entity, right? Let's say Menzel as an Asgardian is capable of molding you in the same way. But the little strings? Those are still attached. She pulls, you react. Is that better, love?"
"I'm fucking Pinnochio?"
"You called me Jiminy Cricket, let's not get too defensive," Bucky spoke up.
"Can you be the Blue Fairy, then?" I asked. "Can you make me a real boy?"
Sally smiled, though it was nothing more than a tight purse of her lips. "If only I could work magic. I'll do my best though. Get a few winks of sleep. Come see me at daybreak." She snapped, pointing her finger at Bucky who merely shrugged.
"Still not ready to comply, soldat?"
"Wasn't last time, not about to this time. Done poking the beast or can I grab some shut eye too?"
Sally winked, blew a kiss, then spun dramatically on her cushion to call after our retreating forms. "Separate rooms!" she ordered.
I threw my hands up, glancing at a mortified Bucky's face. She could hit him with words that had once triggered one of the deadliest assassins in the world, but lord forbid she bring up his sex life. Not that we shared one, sadly. I was still working on a sly way to ease into that. "Well, damn, there goes my vacation plan," I muttered.
"I'm serious," Sally said through a laugh. "I'm a Doctor. I know how this stuff happens. Just—James I'm looking to you for this because you're the responsible one, god help us all—just make sure she gets a minimum of eight hours of sleep. All her vitals are dangerously low. She needs sleep before they shut down completely."
"Understood." Bucky nodded, ever the soldier.
The house was old and designed to host a family of a half dozen. There were just enough rooms for us each to claim one; Sally said she would pass out in her lab and not to worry about her. Mine was at the far end, four poster bed positioned strategically in the center of the room for the best vantage point over the waters when the sun would wake. Soothing paintings hung on the wall, reminiscent of the previous occupant who fancied himself a van Gogh when a 5 year old's finger paintings would have evoked deeper emotions.
I collapsed on the bed, hitting my numb arm against the mattress to restore blood flow. Bucky's hand rubbed over the bandaid on my inner elbow, but I scarcely noticed. His hand fell to the locket that might as well have been welded into my hand. "You'll feel better in the morning," he assured.
I doubted that very much, especially, since the only sleep I'd managed in the past 48 hours had been against his shoulder. I knew what was wrong now; I was a junkie who'd lost her fix. This was withdrawal from Menzel. Whatever she did to my body created an addiction I didn't want to shake. If given the opportunity I would seek out more. They were right to keep me locked in here.
"Do you need anything before I go?" he asked.
"How'd you do it?" I whispered.
He leaned down, not quite picking out what I said. "Do what?" he murmured.
"How'd you sort out who you are and who they made you into? Where does Bucky stop and the Winter Soldier begin?"
With a rumbling sigh, he sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed his hands over his knees. An incessant wall clock ticked away warning how late the hour grew. A chorus of crickets sang outside, welcoming the moon back into the sky. The cover slid down to my waist as I sat up to place my hand on Bucky's shoulder; even that didn't break him out of the trance he'd entered.
"Buck?" I shook his shoulder this time, but still no reaction. His eyes were dead, sorting through a hundred thousand memories I could never hope to understand.
Shifting to sit behind him, I put my legs on either side of him and wrapped my arms around his waist. My face pressed just beneath where his hair met his back. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of clean soap mixed with a woodsy smell clinging to his grey Henley. This was the calm before a storm and I was bracing myself for impact.
Instead of yelling at me for being so inconsiderate, for poking at a past he clearly wanted to forget, Bucky just placed his hands over where mine linked together—the human one along with the metal one. It was the first time he'd touched me with it. He must be painstakingly aware of that too, because he held his breath as he waited for my reaction. I just hugged him tighter, wishing I could somehow be powerful enough to prevent either of us from shattering again, but I was already in pieces and he was held together by kiddy glue. All we would do is cut each other on the jagged edges.
"Ace?" His voice was a kiss against my eardrums, softer than any velvet, vulnerable like a lone soldier facing off against an entire battalion.
"You don't have to answer. That was a stupid question. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just throwing a pity party and it gets lonely being the only one in attendance."
He turned in my grasp, silk strands of hair grazing my forehead before his nose brushed against my temple. Heat bloomed in every crevice of my body, settling with burning clarity between my legs.
"He can't feel anything," Bucky breathed. Too close, too goddamn close for his own good.
"And you can? God, Bucky, I can't trust what I want," I whispered, barely audible over the deafening silence in the room. "There's no way to tell what's me and what's Menzel."
"I can tell," Bucky said.
"Please, share your expertise."
"She has power over you when you feel weak, vulnerable. When you found out about your dad, when you were first coming into your powers. She wants you to be miserable so you'll need her. How do you feel right now?"
"This place reminds me of home." I brushed hints of sand from the sheets, little grains that I'd tracked in from the day scattered to the floor. Looking anywhere but him. If I met that keen gaze, I would not be able to fight back against the tide of my want a moment longer. "This is the most at peace I've felt since…before Menzel."
"And do I contribute to this inner peace?"
"Fuck no. You are literally going to drive me into an insane asylum one day. It's not healthy how much I think about you. But you do make me happy."
A smile trudged to the corners of his mouth. His eyes swept up searching for the puppet master pulling my strings no doubt, in disbelief that this was me speaking of my own volition. When he looked at me again, he had migrated into my hazardous air space, a no fly zone for anyone who didn't want to risk exposure Menzel's influence. He would kiss me if I didn't stop him. His fingertips swept beneath my chin, nothing more than the ghost of a touch, but still I let him tilt my head up with the light presses. Patience and leisurely paces were my banes, but I would not push him, not if it meant scaring him away permanently.
I was rewarded with the faintest of kisses, his lips faintly a whisper against mine. Do I kiss him back? Do I put my hand down his pants? What had Bucky said? Stop thinking and trust what you feel; he felt damn good.
My teeth snagged his lower lip while my hands roped into that long hair, pressing out mouths together with bruising force. His breath scattered and returned in little gasps as I urged the kiss into new depths—depths like the Marianas Trench which had yet to be fully explored by mankind. I however, had every intention of exploring every inch of Bucky's body if he allowed me.
With a tug on his shirt, I urged him to follow me as I crawled towards the center of the bed. He paused to kick off his shoes before doing just so. His frame was a mighty oak leaning over me, his forearms thicker than most tree trunks I'd encountered. Toxic presses of his mouth against mine soothed the few insane nerves that attempted to flare up. They were toxic because I knew I could never stop. Now that I had started kissing him, the off button no longer existed. His lips and mine were custom tailored to fit seamlessly together.
His hands, resting on either side of my head, trembled marginally. It was not from fear, he maneuvered the lustful haze with the ease of an old friend. This was restraint.
"We should probably talk about this," Bucky panted roping his emotions back under a watchful eye.
"Pants," I instructed, drawing a throaty whine from him when my lips sponged down his scruffy neck.
"Slow down, Ace. Haven, Christ."
My hand was rubbing him through his pants. Hips bucked appreciatively and most of his self-discipline washed away with the wave of pleasure that showered over him. "Do you want this?" I asked, freezing my actions to give him time to respond. I was a blaring greenlight, but if he was even a little cautious, I would respect that, no matter how my core screamed for him to be buried, throbbing, pounding inside me until the only thing I knew was sweet release.
"I want you," he whispered earnestly.
With a hand set to the center of his chest, he permitted me to roll him onto his back and climb onto his wide waist. With a chaste kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth I whispered, "So take me."
His hands raced up her torso, removing my shirt in one fell swoop, a well-practiced dance. I shuddered at the contrast between his one burning hands and the other freezing against my needy skin. He took the reaction wrong, almost pulled away, but before he could I set to work wrestling his boner free of his jeans. I cupped it, kissing the tip lightly on my way back up his body. He preened, shucking his own shirt off and throwing it so that it nearly sailed out the ajar window.
Foreplay was exactly what had been occurring the past few days since our reuniting, maybe it even spanned back to our initial meeting. Either way, neither of us bothered much with the appetizer, hungry exchanges led us both straight to desert. His yearning fingers brushed my core, blue eyes flickering up at me with tremendous awe that I was so wet for him and they squeezed shut when his fingers pushed the barrier of my panties aside and thrust into me.
Brow creased, already damp with sweat, though I couldn't be sure whether that was from the heat of Mother Nature of from my heat where he rubbed his thumb over my aching clit, Bucky maneuvered his cock to tease my folds for just a breath—it was the longest most exquisite moment of my life. And then he was buried to the hilt inside me. I moaned and he groaned, our symphony of harmonizing pleasure filling the room to make even Beethoven jealous. He swiveled his hips once, testing the waters, unlocking a spot that pulled the filthiest words from my mouth. They in turn unleashed him. All the power he tried to downplay, all the layers of clothing to hide the raw muscles beneath were gone; all physical and emotional walls were left at the door.
Now, only we remained and he was gripping me like he wanted to bruise me, to leave a reminder for later. It was a sprint not a marathon and we were both gunning for the finish, clinging, thrusting, whispering unintelligible words until the red tape flew past with fire licking up and down our veins.
Crawling off his lap, I laid on the center of the bed, panting as I watched the lazy ceiling fan circle overhead. I felt Bucky collapse beside me, his head settling against my outstretched bicep. His eyes were shut fast and they didn't open again before I coaxed my sore muscles into relaxing. Not a word was said. No flimsy explanations tossed into the void because we both understood exactly why that happened and just maybe we're both ready to stop running from who we are.
Comments! Concerns? Please talk to me, I'm lonely.