Darcy wrung her hands together and chewed her lip nervously. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was almost certain she was about to be sick. God, why had she ever thought this would be a good idea? Fuck, she was so stupid.
He eyed her, coffee cup held aloft halfway to his mouth and his mouth open in mute shock. “… Darce,” he croaked, setting his mug down carefully on the counter with a clink, “-are you fucking serious?” He asked as he turned his big body toward her, one large boot on the wrung of the stool, the other planted flat on the floor. He squinted at her and his fingers, shiny and silver flexed against his thigh in a loose fist. “I mean… Seriously??”
Hysterical, nervous laughter bubbled up and out of her mouth before she could stop it and she felt her face warm with embarrassment. She rubbed at her cheeks self-consciously and looked anywhere but at him, her toes wriggling anxiously within the warm, cozy confines of her fluffy purple slippers. Jesus, what on earth had possessed her to… I mean, yeah, it was something she had always wanted to try, but why on earth had she asked him of all people?! Sure, he was one of her very best friends but fucked if she didn’t know better. Shit. She blew out a sharp, short breath and humiliated, turned to leave. “Forget it, Bucky.” She didn’t look back at him. Couldn’t. “Please. Please, forget I ever said anything..”
He was on his feet and at her elbow before she even reached the doorway, long, thick fingers curled around her arm and pressing into the soft skin of her bicep. “Darcy,” he held fast when she tried to pull free and he tugged gently, “Damn it, Darce, stop!” He barked. “Stop!”
She winced and let her arm go limp but did as she was told, chin down and eyes on the floor by his feet. She blinked back humiliated tears and swallowed thickly. His warm hand loosened and let go once he was sure she’d stay put and she shivered at the loss of it.
“Darcy,” he tried again, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back, thumb stroking up and down against the soft, fuzzy fabric of her sweater. “C’mon, sweetheart, look at me.”
She steeled herself for the look of horror on his face, the abject disgust and slowly lifted her eyes to his face. He was watching her with an expression of careful concern, his bright blue eyes confused and wide and he was so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, could smell the warm, spicy scent of his cologne and the coffee on his breath. He ducked his head to meet her eyes, his thumb still doing that stupid, distracting stroking thing in the dip of her lower back. She blinked up at him and desperately tried to concentrate on what he was saying but nothing was registering beyond the white noise. His mouth was moving but she hadn’t heard a damn thing he’d said because he was touching her. Bucky fucking Barnes was stroking her back in tiny sweeping motions and she could. Not. Concentrate.
Her mouth dry, she swallowed and wet her lips. “What?”
The muscle in his jaw jumped and he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, his big chest heaving a sigh before he gave her a gentle nudge back towards the kitchen counter. “C’mon, Darce, come sit down.” His sweater clad arm brushed her shoulder and he gave her a light shove, her feet skipping across the floor. He waited for her to climb onto the stool and looped his foot around the leg of one of the chairs at the table, dragging it over to sit in front of her so she was perched above him and he appeared less threatening. Big blue eyes looked up at her and he waited for her to speak.
Her face was burning and she was chewing on the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay. “What do you want me to say?”
He cocked a brow at her and braced his elbows against his knees, hands clasped loosely between his thick thighs. “I’d really like you to explain what you meant.”
She looked down at him and marvelled at the man before her. He was a beautiful creature, a complete fucking specimen if she was being honest and the way the muscles across his shoulders bunched and rolled as he moved made her want to do all kinds of unseemly things with and to him with her mouth. Wet, filthy, bitey things. His hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail at the base of his neck but there was still that rogue strand that wasn’t quite long enough yet that hung in his eyes and his jaw was dark with a three day old beard. A soft navy sweater was stretched across his broad chest, a flash of white cotton underneath in the V of the neckline and his legs were encased in faded black denim that hugged his ass and thighs just so. Silver fingers twitched as he waited for her to reply.
She took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. “You’re one of my best friends.”
He hummed quietly. “I am aware.”
The snort of laughter that came out of her mouth was brittle and she felt pathetic. “I don’t,” she blinked rapidly, “I don’t have the best track record with guys, you know? Every time I think I’ve found a winner it all falls apart and I,” she risked a look at him and he was frowning now, “I just want it to be fun, you know? I want it to be good for once.”
He blinked slowly and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m not sure I follow, Darce…” His brow creased in confusion, eyes searching her face for a clue as to what on earth she was on about.
Her fingers rubbed at her brow, eyes squeezed shut and mouth in a thin line. “I’ve never had an orgasm.” She blurted out and she was met with silence. “Ever. I – I’ve had sex, but it’s never been good and I just- yeah...”
To his credit, Bucky didn’t laugh like she had expected him to. He eyed her with his brows somewhere up in his hairline. “…. Ever?” He asked quietly, his tone tinted with disbelief and a little bit of horror, she thought.
She shook her head and picked at her chipped nail polish. “Nope.” Good lord, why wasn’t the ground opening up and swallowing her right now? She kinda sorta wanted to just curl up and die quietly in a corner somewhere.
He shifted in the chair and sat a little straighter, but didn’t touch her. “I,” he opened his mouth and snapped it shut, brows drawn together now, “I don’t see what this has to do with me choking you?”
“Really, Bucky??” She scowled at him and watched as his handsome face processed what she was saying. She could see the moment it registered and his eyes widened and he choked on his tongue with a cough.
“Y-you want me to have sex with you,” he blurted, voice coarse and ragged, “-while I’m choking you?!”
She bit her lip. “Yes.” At his slack jawed look she rolled her eyes and smiled a little. “It’s a thing, y’know?”
He squinted at her and shook his head slowly. “But,” he paused. “If you’ve never had decent sex how do you know you’d like…?”
She twitched and smothered her embarrassment with a shrug. “Thinking about it gets me hot.”
His neck flushed pink and he worked his jaw a little. “Why me?” He looked at his hands and back to her, his eyes flitting to her throat then up to her face. “Of all the - why me, Darce?”
“Because,” she started, looping her fingers with his flesh ones. She gave them a squeeze when she felt them shaking. “You’re the only one with the experience,” at his sharp look she elaborated quickly. “That’s not what I – I didn’t-“ Her breath caught and she shook her head a little. “You’re the only one I trust enough. Plus, you’re pretty fucking hot, in case you haven’t noticed.”
He looked at their twisted fingers and sighed, eyes anywhere but her face. “Darcy, I…” He blew out a sigh and sat back, untangling his hand from hers and running it through his hair until his fingers caught on the elastic and he slumped backward. “Can,” he started, “Can I think about it?”
She caught her lip between her teeth and sucked it into her mouth, tongue prodding at the raw, sore patch that was maybe one layer of skin away from splitting. Her eyes were wide and her stomach did a weird little flip when it finally registered; he hadn’t said no. “Of course.” She nodded, not looking at him. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She shot him a tight but affectionate smile. “Take your time.”
He studied her for another long, mortifying moment before his big hands smoothed down his thighs and he rose to his feet without a word, reached past her for his forgotten coffee cup and headed for the door. She watched his back disappear into the hall with a heavy, sick weight in her stomach and she mulled over what she had just actually done.
She had just propositioned her best friend, the world’s most dangerous, prolific assassin turned superhero in the tower’s communal kitchen before he’d even had the chance to finish his first cup of coffee of the morning. She’d cornered him in one of the only places he genuinely felt safe and protected and fuck, she was an awful friend.
She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms and sniffled with no small amount of misery when she noted that he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.
“Clean up on aisle three!”
Darcy flailed wildly at the sudden shout from the hallway and sent her half melted bowl of ice cream flying across the couch, sloppy vanilla and rainbow sprinkles slicking across her thigh and onto the expensive woven fabric. “Shit.” She quickly shrugged out of her robe and mopped up the mess, cursing quietly under her breath as she went, fingers plucking at the sticky remains of her self imposed pity party as she hauled herself off the couch and padded towards the kitchen. Her robe –a beautiful silk thing covered in butterflies that had been a gift from Natasha after their last trip to Vietnam and was probably, no scratch that, definitely ruined was clutched in her fingers and dragged across the floor behind her.
She didn’t even look up as she entered the room, merely glowered down at the wet, sticky mess on her thighs and shorts as she set about pulling out the big metal first aid box from the lower shelf of the cabinet. She set it down on the counter with a thump and pushed her curls back out of her face.
“Who’s the lucky victim tonight, then?”
A body slumped heavily onto the stool to her left and she glanced up as she began pulling sterile packs of gauze and saline tubes out of the box quickly followed by medical tape and a small pair of scissors in a paper and plastic packet. The plastic crinkled in her fingers when she caught sight of her favorite sniper leaning heavily against the counter top, head hung low and almost touching his forearms. He was still decked out in his uniform, straps and buckles hanging undone and the zippered section underneath his left arm halfway open. The plates that made up his bicep were fluttering and trying to realign but were gummed up with globs of something wet and fleshy so they were constantly rippling and shifting, a quiet whirring audible.
There was a steady drip, drip, drip of cherry red blood on the counter.
“For fuck’s – what even - Jesus, Bucky!” Her fingers twitched in the air, desperate to reach for him but something stopped her and she held herself back, unable to forget how they had left things almost two weeks prior in the kitchen.
She had barely seen him since then and each time she had he had been distant and distracted, a wan, tight smile shot in her direction before he’d abruptly leave the room and her behind. Her chest hurt from the blatant lack of interest he had in spending any further time with her.
Things were a mess between them and it was all her fault.
He was quiet, painfully so and she glanced from him to Clint in question. He gave her a slight one shouldered shrug as if to say ‘beats me’ and he nudged Bucky with the back of his hand. “Alright, Barnes?”
He grunted and his head sagged even lower until it pressed flush against the counter with a wet, tacky squelch. “M’fine.”
Clint cocked a brow at the monosyllabic answer and waved a dirty, gloved hand at him with a roll of the eyes. “If you say so, buddy.” He pat him on the shoulder and backed up a little when the bigger man tensed. “I’ll just,” he waved between the pair and backed towards the door. “Yeah. I’ll leave you to it, Darcy.” He fled.
There was a moment of tense silence before she finally found her words. “I can call medical instead, if you like?” Her voice was quietly ashamed and she plucked at the plastic wrapping that held the small pair of sterile scissors. She understood, really, she did. She had approached him with a request that had made him so uncomfortable that he couldn’t even look at her and she had ruined everything. The loss of him from her life had stung, even more than the rejection, but she deserved it. She had made her bed and she was damn well going to sleep in it. His silence was telling and she set down the package on the counter by his elbow. “I’ll call medical.”
He moved slowly, pushing himself upright and he blinked through a face full of blood, voice coarse and raspy. “No, don’t.” He sighed. “I’d rather not have to go down there. You can do it.”
She bit at her bottom lip and nodded wordlessly as she watched him thumb the blood from his eyes and wipe it on the leg of his tac pants. He pulled at his jacket, fingers slipping underneath the straps and tugging them free before he shrugged out of it completely and let it slop to the floor.
Her voice only shook a little when she wrung out the damp cloth to begin washing his face. “Is it just the head wound?”
Bright blue eyes met hers tiredly and he gave a slow, solitary nod. “Yeah,” he blew out, eyes dropping away from her face as she stepped in close and took his chin in her hand. Her bare thigh pressed up against his knee and she reveled in how warm he was, even through the heavy Kevlar fabric.
God, she had missed him so much.
She dabbed at his face with careful, steady fingers until she could see skin instead of blood and lifted up on tip toes to get a better look at the deep cut under his hairline. Her nails parted the wet, dark strands and she frowned at the already granulating wound. “Looks like it’s stopped bleeding,” she mumbled, reaching for the saline tubes and snapping the cap off of one. “Just let me clean it and I can go.”
He slumped a little at her words and she felt the brush of his long eyelashes against the inside of her wrist. His breath was hot and damp against her arm and her stomach clenched, goosebumps prickling along every inch of exposed skin and then some.
“Such a fucking mess,” he muttered, eyes downcast towards the counter, his hands gripping his knees as she leaned between them in an attempt to reach his head.
Darcy glanced at the bloody smears all over the counter top and her shoulders rolled in a tiny shrug, fingers carefully holding his hair out of the way as she dabbed ointment on the rapidly healing wound. “It’ll wash off.” She tried for flippant but had the feeling that it fell a little short and she felt him tense at her close proximity. His chest pressed against the curve of her breasts and she sucked in a breath.
He grabbed her elbow with his tacky, bloody prosthetic and squeezed. The plates were still rippling and trying to settle flat against his arm but she barely even registered the mechanical whirring. Bright blue eyes searched her face, took in the bruised circles under her eyes and he swore under his breath.
“I didn’t mean the goddamn counter.” He spat, lip curled and agitated, dark brows drawn in tight. He pushed away from the counter, the stool he’d been sitting on clattering to the floor as he stood and stalked from the room.
A noise that was way too close to a sob slipped past her lips and she coughed to cover it, just in case he was still in the hall, fingers that were sticky with his blood pushing through her hair before she moved to clean up the kitchen. She waited for a good ten minutes, washed her bowl and flipped out the lights before she gathered up her robe, headed for the elevator and then to bed.
Bucky was right. This was a fucking mess and it was all her fault.
She blinked awake, disoriented and confused in the darkness. Her mouth was dry and it felt like she’d been chain smoking cheap, shitty cigarettes all night. Her head felt heavy and her hair was still damp against her neck from the shower she’d taken before bed.
The old alarm clock she had brought with her when she’d moved in cast an emerald glow over the room and she curled herself around her pillow and pushed her face into it trying to escape its cheerful glow. It was early, only three A.M. and she had only been asleep for forty three measly minutes.
She pushed back the blankets and tripped out of bed, feeling her way down the hall and into the small kitchenette that was the same as every other suite on her floor and pulled open the fridge door so there was enough light for her to see but not enough to wake her properly. She fumbled for a glass and poured herself some water, emptying it twice before she felt any better.
A light tap at her door made her jump and she nearly dropped the glass, heart in her throat. “Jesus,” She cursed softly, padding towards the door with no small amount of trepidation. Who the hell would be knocking on her door at three in the fucking morning? She knew it would be one of the tower’s other inhabitants so it was definitely safe to open the door, but it didn’t curb her confusion one bit. Who the hell else was up at this time of night? She had her hand on the handle and she pressed herself against the cool wood, cheek resting on the door.
“… Who is it?”
A beat of silence passed before a quiet shuffling sound made its way through the door. “S’me.”
The locks tumbled loudly in the dark and then there he was, shoulder pressed into the door frame and hair hanging loose around his face. He looked down at her and cleared his throat, eyes looking over her head into the dark apartment and then back down to her sleep rumpled cheeks. He frowned. “I can come back later if…?”
Darcy rolled her eyes and stepped back, opening the door wider and waving him inside before clicking the door shut and flipping on a nearby lamp. The room was bathed in a warm, yellow glow and she took a moment to watch him as he sat on the edge of her coffee table with a sigh.
He was wearing a pair of plaid pyjama pants that were frayed and worn at the heels, the grey and white fabric soft from wear and a tight black tank top that did little to hide the impressive cut of his shoulders. His feet were bare and his toes were curling into the plush rug in the middle of the room.
She waited a few minutes and quietly called his name. “… Bucky?”
He wordlessly reached for her with one hand, head still bowed and she padded closer until his fingers looped around her wrist, his thumb brushing the heel of her palm as he slowly drew her in until he could rest his head on her hip. He took a slow, deep breath and buried his face in the soft curve of her stomach. “Smell good.” He mumbled into her shirt and she squeezed his shoulder. “God, Darce, I’ve been such a prick to you.”
She squirmed at the unfamiliar feeling of his hot breath against her ribs and tentatively stroked the top of his head, careful to avoid the wound site from earlier. It was probably already scabbed over but you could never be too careful. “Bucky, you don’t have to apolo-“
“I do.” He peered up at her and frowned, his metal hand coming to rest on her hip as he leaned back and looked over her face. “I do. I want to.” He told her with a light squeeze to her hip, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’m so sorry I took off like that and left you hangin’, Darce. I was just so surprised that you’d want me that way and,” he shot her a depreciating smirk and shook his head at her, “It threw me more'n it should. Kinda haven’t been able to think of anythin’ else since.”
She blinked down at him in shock and a jolt of something hot and heady flared in her stomach. “Wait. What?!”
A wry, secret smile lit up his eyes and he hummed at her, nose against her ribs and hands on her hips. “See,” he started, fingers flexing against her soft curves, “You took me by surprise, Sweetheart. There I was drinkin’ my coffee and tryin’ to wake up and you come right out and ask me to fool around with you.”
She flushed pink and bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. “I believe I asked you to fuck me, actually.” His grip tightened and he looked up at her with a cool raised eyebrow. She grinned. “I’m sorry, please, continue.”
His big hands squeezed her waist and he huffed a quiet laugh, his breath hot against the underside of her breast. “… I’d have to be blind not to want you, Darce.” He admitted lowly, fingers plucking at the waist of her sleep shorts before smoothing across the warmth of her stomach and pushing underneath her tank top to lay against her skin. Her brain short circuited a little and she let out a small gasp, her body following obediently as he drew her in closer and wrapped a thick arm around her waist. He nuzzled the warm juncture of her neck and brushed his open mouth against it, teeth scraping the delicate skin before he pressed a damp, open mouthed kiss to her jaw. His flesh hand tangled in the ends of her hair and pulled, exposing the line of her throat. “D’you still want it, Sweetheart?” He nipped at her chin and then her full bottom lip.
Her stomach pitched and whirled and she whimpered into his open mouth, breathing him in and clutching at the back of his neck, fingers twisted tightly in his hair as she struggled to think, to breathe. She could barely keep track of what he was saying and her breath was leaving her in shallow pants, her forehead pressed against his and his mouth brushing across hers in slow, lazy strokes. It was like nothing she’d ever done before and she was drunk on the sensations already. Sure, she’d been intimate with a few guys, had a couple of exes and a fling or two here and there, but this…? Nothing had felt like this and he had barely even touched her.
His tongue swept across the bow of her top lip and his left hand scraped at her lower back and cupped her ass, gripping and kneading just this side of painful through the thin cotton shorts she wore. Her breath hitched and she finally managed a short but definite nod. “Fuck, Bucky..”
He surged forward and kissed her as he pulled her closer to straddle his thigh and she whined into his mouth, fingers scraping at his stubbled jaw, his tongue in her mouth. He let out a low groan when she melted against him and he broke away after a moment with a sharp inhale, eyes bright and mouth swollen. He nuzzled her face and nipped at the skin over her cheekbone, breathing unsteady.
He huffed against her face. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he reached for her hips and pulled her flush against his thigh. “You tell me what you know you like and I’ll get you there, Darce, I swear to fucking God, I’ll get you there.”
She bit her lip and tried to squeeze her thighs together, desperate to feel him between them and let out an honest to God whimper when he arranged her just so and told her to straddle his leg.
“C’mon, there’s a good girl,” he murmured as she settled against him and her hips canted upward at the firm pressure against her core, “You wanna ride my thigh?” His mouth was at her ear, breathing heavy and hot against her skin.
Darcy moaned at the mere thought of riding his thick, muscular thigh until she was sopping wet and sobbing because she had honestly thought about it (on more than one occasion, in fact) but held still, nervous. “A-aren’t I too heavy?” She squirmed against him and sighed because honestly, even just the warm pressure against her was perfect but he scoffed against her neck and his fingers dug into her ass hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Fuck off, you’re too heavy,” He muttered darkly, “You’re perfect, Darce. Fucking. Perfect.”
Her mouth fell open and she bit her lip, her body hot with arousal and flushed a pretty pink from the top of her breasts to her cheeks. “Bucky..”
“Yeah, sweetheart? C’mon, tell me…” He mouthed at the soft spot beneath her ear and sucked until she was left with a mark, his mouth curling into a shark-like grin at the broken gasp that slipped out of her pretty, lush mouth. His fingers stroked and kneaded, coaxing her hips into motion. “I can’t ruin you if I don’t know what you like.”
She gasped against his cheek, her eyes fluttering shut as she ground against him. “I,” she couldn’t quite believe this was happening, “I want,” her breathing hitched, “I want to hear you. I like to listen.”
He moaned into her ear and she felt a rush of warm, wet heat pool between her thighs at the low pitched sound. God, he sounded pretty and she was embarrassingly wet. He licked and sucked his way down her neck and across her collarbone, his big hands under her shirt splayed across the width of her ribs and he sank his teeth into the soft skin above the neckline of her tank. Long, thick fingers pulled and tugged at the straps until she was exposed and he swore colorfully before he bent and took a pebbled nipple into his mouth. She squirmed and tugged on his hair, her breath leaving her in short, shallow pants. He released her with a pop and brushed his thumb across her damp skin.
His gaze felt like a physical thing, heavy and intense as he watched her rock against him, his thumb brushing back and forth across her nipple, tongue rolling out to wet his lips. He looked hungry, like he wanted to eat her alive and she had the sudden desire to see more of him, to touch him the way he was her.
She pulled at his shirt and leaned back a little ways, her hips slowing just enough for her to strip him of it and throw it onto the nearby couch. Her breath caught at the sight of all that muscle and skin but before she got a good look he had fisted his hand in her hair and slanted his mouth across hers. She reached up and held onto his forearm as she rode his thigh, the moisture between her legs soaking through into the fabric of his pants and he let out a rough groan, biting at her mouth and panting against her cheek. She could feel her legs starting to shake and her toes were curled against the carpet, her teeth hugging her bottom lip as the pressure began to build. Her eyes screwed shut and she whimpered, grabbing at his arm and shoulder, hips rolling faster and harder.
“That’s it, c’mon,” he muttered gruffly, “You gonna come for me, Darce, huh? You gonna make a fucking mess of me?”
She gasped into his mouth, a steady stream of curse words falling from his mouth, filthy promises to fuck her ‘til she couldn’t see straight spurring her on. His hand pulled impatiently at the waist of her shorts, thick fingers pushing down into her underwear until they met slick, wet flesh.
He was at her ear again, voice rough and desperate. “Can i?” He stroked her with two thick fingers, the tips of them brushing her opening with each frantic roll of her hips. The heel of his palm ground against her clit and she howled into his shoulder. “Darcy,” he dipped a fingertip inside her and she keened and started to panic as her toes curled even tighter and her body grew tense. It was too much. Her hips faltered and he let out a low grunt, open mouth against her face. Two fingers roughly pushed deep inside her and he rolled his palm against her. “You’re gonna come all over my hand, Sweetheart. Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop!”
“I c-can’t!” She cried, face in his neck but continued on as he insisted, “Oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck..” her body grew taught like a wire and with a sharp twist of his hand, she careened over the edge with a wail and sank her teeth into the nearest thing she could find as her body jerked against him. She faintly heard him cursing up a storm but after a few moments his voice tapered off and finally when she could feel her legs again and her ears had stopped ringing, she opened her eyes and blinked slowly into the damp skin of his neck. She tried to regulate her breathing but gave up after a minute and pushed her hands against the flat of his chest and sat up. There was a sluggishly bleeding bite mark at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and his fingers were still seated inside her.
He was watching her with an intensity that she’d not seen before. He cocked a brow at her and his fingers flexed inside her, making her gasp and whine before he carefully withdrew them, the elastic of her underwear snapping against her skin and stroked her hip with his wet fingers. He cleared his throat and lifted his hand to eye level so she could see herself all over him.
“D’you mind if I..?”
She swallowed and cocked her head. “Do I mind, what?” Her breath stuttered out of her in a whoosh when he sucked his fingers into his mouth and his eyes slipped to half mast. He hummed around them and licked all trace of her away before he pushed them into her hair and thumbed at her cheek.
Her mouth curled into a warm, pleased smile and she clenched her thighs around his. “I think you broke me.”
He huffed a small laugh and dropped his forehead against hers, sobering quickly and the length of his nose brushed hers. “I need you to be sure, Darce,” He kissed her lazily, teeth pulling at her lip and hands on her face. “It’s so fucking dangerous and I,” his voice cracked, “I can’t lose you. You gotta be sure.”
She smiled against his mouth and wrapped her fingers around his left wrist, nails scraping at the smooth, cool plates lightly. “I want it, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice low and honest and damn near wrecked all at once. She guided silver fingers down her cheek, her tongue flicking out to swirl around the pads of them before she pressed a firm, open mouthed kiss against his palm. “I want you, you idiot.”
She delighted at the way his mouth hung open as her tongue touched the metal and downright fucking squirmed at the sharp exhale he made through his nose. Her nipples hardened instantly and she stifled a moan against the palm of his hand.
His eyes drifted shut and he let out a low, deep groan that did things to her, that made her toes curl and made her want to bend over and beg him to take her apart. “Christ..”
She dragged his flesh hand toward her mouth and bit the webbing between his thumb and finger, sucked until he bruised and then repeated the process on the fleshy heel of his palm. “You got a hand thing, Bucky?” She wondered aloud when he began to pant, his thighs shifting underneath her impatiently. “You want me to lick and suck on every inch of skin until you’re all marked up from my mouth?” When he let out a harsh, strangled gasp she hummed against his palm. Apparently, it was a thing for him.
When all of his fingers were wet with her saliva she released them from her mouth with a lewd pop and scraped her nails through his hair, pulling and bringing his mouth down to hers with a moan.
He tugged at the shirt she still had on with a growl, bunched around her waist and then at her shorts. “Off.” He demanded and she climbed from his lap to stand on shaky legs to strip.
She looked up at him from underneath her lashes and pushed her shorts down past her hips and stepped out of them, leaving her in her bright pink underwear and not a scrap more. She suddenly felt very self-conscious and shifted from foot to foot as his eyes dragged down the length of her, his tongue wetting his kiss swollen lips. She couldn’t get a read on him and her nerves doubled. She wasn’t perfect like most of the other women they were surrounded by each day, her hips were too wide and her thighs too soft and she was constantly wrapped in red lines from where her underwear dug in a little… She was soft and squishy and built for snuggles, not covert operations and spy stuff. For fuck’s sake, last time she did this she was pretty damn drunk so it hadn’t really mattered then. Or the time before. Or the time before that. Ok, so she’d never really had sex and been sober for it, big deal, right?
But it was a big deal.
This was huge for her.
Almost as if he could read her mind, Bucky looked up at her with a terrifying intensity that made her skin prickle with heat. She could feel the sweat drops forming between her breasts and she took a slow, calming breath.
He crooked two fingers at her and beckoned her closer, dragging her between his glorious thighs and oh.
He was hard against her hip, the thick line of him pressing up against the soft flannel of his pants, the fabric damp and clinging to him as he gave a small roll against her. His hand was on the side of her neck and he squeezed to get her attention but she couldn’t bring herself to look away, fingers reaching for him to palm him through the fabric.
“No,” he shifted his hips back out of her reach and pushed her hand back. “S’about you, now.”
Blue met blue and she searched his face for a moment. “You’re kidding.” She uttered flatly. When his nose wrinkled in confusion she quirked a brow and pushed at his big shoulders. “Damn it, Bucky, I’ve wanted this for a long time and you’re gonna hold out on me?!” She asked incredulously. Her lip curled and she pushed him again, his shoulders giving just enough for her to know he’d let her move him. Completely and utterly furious and embarrassed, she took a step away and set her hands on the flare of her hips and looked him up and down before making her demands. “Take off your pants.”
He leveled her with a look and started to shake his head but she was having none of his shit.
“You’re going to stand the hell up and drop trou, Sergeant because if we’re gonna do this then goddamn it we’re gonna go the whole hog! I want the whole shebang, not just third fucking base, James Buchanan Barnes! Stop being so.. so.. Greedy!”
He blinked at her, surprised and his fingers flexed against his thighs, the right one idly rubbing circles over the damp, slick patch she’d left there. He licked at them absently as he watched her try not to squirm and let out a deep, weary sigh. He stood up with a muttered curse and quickly shucked out of his pants and boxer briefs before kicking them clear across the room. He stared at her defiantly, mouth set in a firm line and waited.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight he made, all long, muscular lines and warm golden skin bared for her. Just. For. Her. His thighs were thick and dotted with scars, some were obviously knife wounds, old and silver from age and there was one amazingly spectacular burn scar by his knee that made the skin pucker tightly until it disappeared behind the back of his knee and down to his calf. Her eyes traveled higher until she caught sight of the thick, long length of his erection, hard and slightly curved toward his navel and she felt herself clench at the mere thought of taking him in her mouth or even having the hot, hard length of him pressed between her breasts and bumping her chin as he rutted against her. Jesus. Ok, maybe she was getting ahead of herself here.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his and she licked her lips. He was watching her, waiting for her to move first and he was doing the thing. The biting his lip thing. Fuck.
“Where do you want me, Darce?”
Her fingers crept toward the waist of her underwear and slipped underneath, hand trapped between cotton and skin. “Here,” her other hand trailed across her neck, fingers curling around her throat to squeeze, “-and here.”
He had her pressed up against the back of the door in a blink, big hands lifting her off her feet and pulling her legs around his waist before his weight settled against her to pin her in place and leaving her dizzy with want. One hand curved around the back of her leg where thigh met butt cheek, fingers slipping between her legs to tease and stroke her back to life and his other hand, the cooler metallic one made short work of her pretty pink underwear then pushed up her belly and into the valley between her breasts, the tips of his fingers coming to rest on her collarbones. He kissed her hard and fast, swallowing her needy gasp as his fingers slipped up inside her and curled just enough to make her grind against him.
“Please, Bucky,” she could barely even think let alone speak, babbling and squirming against him. “Please..”
He grunted into her mouth as her wet heat came into contact with his cock and he pushed his fingers even further into her, adding a third without a second thought or warning and she cried out at the almost painful stretch. Her heels dug into the curve of his ass.
“Words, Darcy,” he growled, crowding closer and thrusting his fingers roughly into her, dragging them out of her slick walls and pushing back in with bruising force. “Use. Your. Words.”
It took her longer than she’d like but finally she managed to speak, eyes tightly shut and body shaking from his actions. She could hear how his breathing hitched, the wet sound of his hand between her thighs and his sharp muttering about how good she was for him, how fucking pretty her pussy was and how he was going to fucking ruin her with his hands, mouth and cock. “Fuck me… Please!” God, she’d had no idea that her shy, softly spoken best friend had such a filthy mouth. She loved it. Fuck, she really did love it. She had always been a sucker for a little bit of dirty talk but finding someone who was good at it, whose voice was that perfect blend of filth and sex without sounding like a dodgy porno...? That had been difficult. She pulled at the hand on her chest and tipped her chin up, begging for him to slip his hand around her neck as she rode his thick fingers towards her second orgasm. Everything was tight and hot and her vision was beginning to white out at the edges. “I want.. I can’t.. need..” She was straining against him, her breasts crushed against his sweaty chest. She almost started sobbing when he pulled his fingers out leaving her feeling painfully empty. “N-no..”
He shushed her quietly, unyielding metal fingers sweeping across her throat gently at first before settling heavily and his thumb pushed at the underside of her chin forcing her head back. “This ok?” He asked gruffly, the blunt tip of his cock pressed against her where his fingers had just been.
She blinked rapidly and swallowed, moving her head tentatively to check for any discomfort. She was shaking like a leaf. “S’good,” she tried to push down, tried to ease herself onto his length and failed with a sob. “So fucking good. Oh my god, Bucky, please… Please, please, plea-” her pleas broke off with a whine as he pushed up into her, inching further and further inside with his jaw clenched, fingers digging into the globe of her ass, white knuckled. The room was silent save for their harried breathing for a moment, then three things happened at once.
Bucky’s hips surged up into her and Darcy let out a sharp, choked wail as she sunk the rest of the way down his length and his hand tightened around her neck just enough to limit her air supply. His mouth was back at her ear and he was swearing profusely as he fucked into her with hard, rolling strokes.
Oh god, it was so much better than she’d ever imagined. She could feel his breath hot against her skin, the sweat on the back of his neck when she buried her fingers in his hair and held on for dear life as he pushed her higher up the back of the door with each solid thrust. The muscles in his shoulder rolled and flexed under her hand and she dug her nails in until her hands hurt.
“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t get shy on me now,” he growled, fingers loosening and flexing against her skin. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he gasped, “Fucking. FUCK!”
Darcy dug her heels into his ass and strained against him, biting her lip until it bled as the now familiar heat began to suffuse her entire body. It started at her toes and raced up her legs, swooped through her belly and unfurled in her chest, her thighs shaking as fat tears glassed up her eyes and she cried out wordlessly into his mouth. “B-bucky!”
His lip curled up into a strained grin, lips red and rubbing over her open mouth as she gasped around the hand on her throat. He lapped at the split in her skin and his eyes rolled back in his head at the rich, metallic copper taste on his tongue. Fuck, he was a deviant.
“Want you to come for me, Darce,” he moaned into her mouth, his hips rolling against her, his cock pressed deep into her tight, wet heat. She was beginning to flutter around him, her sounds changing from sharp and needy to desperate and fuck-drunk. “Take me, Darce, c’mon, take it.. Such a good girl, my good girl, my babydoll...” he rambled. His flesh fingers crept between the round, perfect cheeks of her ass and he pressed the pad of his fingertip against the puckered opening there. “Gonna have you here next time, sweetheart. M’gonna fucking ruin you.”
She came with a ragged sob, fingers scratching and pulling at his hair and trying to close his hand tighter around her neck as her slick release flooded out of her and her walls clamped down on his cock so hard that his eyes crossed.
He let out a broken curse and groaned into her open mouth as he came a minute later, his hips gradually slowing from punishing to shallow lazy thrusts as she whimpered her way down. Eventually, after he slowed to a stop and she caught her breath, he held her against the door and ran his hands up her sides and pressed a warm, lazy kiss to her brow.
She hummed, contented and stroked his hair back out of his eyes. “Gold star for Bucky Barnes,” she murmured. “Two thumbs up, would definitely ride again.”
He huffed out a laugh and pecked her on the lips, his hands adjusting their grip on her hips so he could carry her toward the couch, still buried inside her. “Gimme ten minutes, ok, Darce?” He carefully settled into the soft cushions and arranged her against his chest. “Ten minutes.” He muttered with a yawn, body slouching with her knees hugging his ribs.
She smirked and thumbed at his temples until his eyes slipped shut, her limbs loose and sore in the best possible way. “It’s alright, Old Man. Have a nap, you earned it.”
One bright blue eye opened and he squinted at her. “And for that, you can wait twenty.” He flexed his hips beneath her and she gasped softly at the feel of him inside her, good to go already. “See if I care.”
She let out a throaty laugh and tossed her hair back, the curling ends brushing his thighs. When she calmed down and looked back at him he was watching her with a soft unguarded smile on his face and she felt her cheeks warm under his gaze. “… What?” His fingers tipped her chin up a little and he pressed a kiss against the corner of her mouth.
He hummed against her skin. “You’re perfect, Darce.” He rolled his eyes at her wry smirk and pulled her against his chest, big arms winding around her and pinning her in place, his chin on the top of her head. “You are,” he insisted, “And I’m gonna keep telling you so until you believe me. Every damn day.”
She huffed and snuggled against his chest, fingers idly plucking at his nipple. “And you’re crazy.”
His hand clapped against her bare butt cheek with a sharp crack and he laughed at the squeal she let out. “Respect your damned elders.”
“Yes, Sir, Sergeant Barnes.”
He twitched inside her and he hummed thoughtfully, firm hands creeping toward her breasts. “Well, shit,” he mused at her flushed cheeks. “I guess that’s a thing.”
“The spanking thing or the ‘Sir’ thing?”
He grinned at her, slow and filthy. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, wont we?”