Work Text:
You’re searching for your keys in the void of your tote bag when your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket. Assuming it’s your manager calling for some stupid reason, likely to ask you to work tomorrow morning when he could’ve done so before you left, you ignore it in favor of fishing around further.
When it begins vibrating again, right as you find them, you huff an irritated sigh and slip your phone from your pocket. A smile brightens across your tired face when you see who the caller actually is, and gladly swipe the answer button.
“Hi, stranger,” you greet fondly, unlocking the door to your apartment and pushing your way inside.
“Hi, sweet girl,” your boyfriend’s husky voice responds from your speaker, sounding tired but pleased to hear you in return. “You okay? You didn’t pick up at first.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” you assure him, turning on lights as you make your way to the bedroom. “I thought it was my boss… I was stressing, I couldn’t find my keys. We’re good now. I can’t wait to fucking shower.”
Bucky laughs softly, and the sound fills your chest with warmth. “Busy night?”
“Dude. You have no idea.” You toss your bag onto the bed, startling Alpine, who you didn’t realize was comfortably sleeping in the pure white sheets. “Oh, sorry, Al.”
“How’s our son?” Bucky asks, entirely serious.
“Annoying,” you tell him, scratching the snowy cat’s ears to make amends. “He misses his daddy. Doesn’t stop crying for you.”
“Awww. Poor guy.”
“Poor guy?” you echo, flabbergasted. “Poor me. I have to feed him extra to shut him up. I can’t sleep at night now.”
“What can I say,” Bucky drawls smugly. “I’m the favorite parent.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He chuckles in your ear, and you smile despite your ongoing beef with his cat. You love Al regardless, but it does get irritating hearing him meow so mournfully for Bucky.
Honestly, you can’t blame him. You miss him, too.
“When are you coming home?” you whine, putting him on speaker as you start your bedtime routine.
“Tomorrow, hopefully,” your exhausted boyfriend sighs, and your heart pangs. He sounds like he’s gotten zero sleep the entire mission. “We have one more stop to make. Cross off a few more arms dealers on the list. Dunno why Sam needed me to tag along, I guess I’m just that intimidating and cool.”
“Psh.” You roll your eyes, scrubbing your face with micellar water on a cotton pad. “That’s definitely why. Not like you know how to take them down, or anything.”
He grumbles childishly, and you laugh. “Man’s got blasters on his wings and shit,” Bucky points out. “And fuckin’ Redwing. He’s Captain America, for Christ’s sake, don’t know why I’m necessary.”
“You’re always necessary,” you remind him before he spirals into a moment of self-doubt. “You must make him feel safe. I know I do.”
“Thanks, honey.” You hear the sheepish grin in his voice. “I try. You I worry more about. Is the security guard walking you up like I asked him to? He promised.”
“Bucky,” you chide, now understanding why your building’s kind, elderly head of security has been offering to walk you to and from your car and up to your floor ever since Bucky left. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“But there’s creeps and shit!” he insists, troubled. “Especially in parking garages.”
“Oh, I know. This dude keeps parking his sick ass motorcycle right next to me. Think he’s trying to impress me.”
Completely missing the joke, apparently having forgotten he owns said motorcycle, Bucky exclaims, “What? Who? Is it that guy down the hall?”
“Bucky.” You sweep your hair back so you can wash your face. “I’m kidding. It’s your bike, dummy. Relax.”
“Oh.” He exhales sharply. “Don’t scare me like that. You’re mine, you hear?”
You bite your lip, wishing he was here to remind you in person. “Yes, Sergeant, loud and clear. Your bike is the sexiest bike of all.”
“Damn right,” he mutters possessively, and you snicker at him.
You both go quiet as you scrub your face free of the dirt and restaurant buildup from the day. Nothing makes you feel grosser than looking at the soiled cotton pads after taking your makeup off.
Bucky speaks again when the sink squeaks off. “Hey, babe?”
“Yeah?”
“I really wanna fuck you.”
You nearly drop the towel you’re using to dab your face dry. “Then hurry home and do it, then,” you counter, something hot fluttering between your legs.
He makes a frustrated little sound. It’s cute and erotic at the same time. “I fuckin’ would if I could. Bend you over and make you scream.”
“Aaah!” you cry playfully, and dissolve into laughter. “Sorry. You trying to seduce me over the phone will always be funny.”
“You’re not seduced?” he complains. “Shit. Tell me what you want me to do, then.”
“Hmmm.” Rubbing moisturizer into your clean skin, you ponder for a minute. “I suppose I wouldn’t say no to some neck kisses while you make me come with your hands.”
A low growl, deep in his chest. “Which hand? Be specific.”
You strip as you wait for the shower to heat up. “Your real one. ’Cause then I know you’ll be able to feel me.”
“Mm.” You picture him palming the front of his briefs. He’s likely in bed at the safehouse, shirtless, missing the hell out of you. “I can feel you pretty good with the other one. But I’m right-handed. I do better with that.”
You smirk, placing your phone in the built-in shelf where you keep your bottles and body soap. “Yes, you do,” you praise, letting the hot water envelop your frame like he will when he comes home. You close your eyes, swiping a finger over your clit. It feels good, but it’s not his touch.
“So you just want me to touch you?” he confirms, his voice tight. He’s got his dick in his left hand for sure. “Nothin’ else?”
“Well, we’ll start with that,” you say, hurrying to wash the sweat from your body, shivering now from adrenaline. “Gotta get that foreplay in. Get me nice and wet.”
“Fuck.”
A strained whisper. You slip between your folds, gathering the arousal pooling there.
“Like right now,” you add, circling your clit delicately. You use your other hand to balance yourself against the shower wall. “I miss you so much, Sarge. I wish you were rubbing my clit instead.”
“Me, too,” Bucky agrees, sounding a little breathless. You picture his metal hand stroking the length of his cock, spurred on by your shared fantasy. “Fuck. I’d fuck you so good if I was there, baby. Right in the shower, how you like it.”
You spread your legs as your essence drips down the inside of your thigh. Your clit aches under your moving fingertips. “Please,” you whimper, rocking into your hand. “I want you. I wanna come all over you.”
“Where, sweet girl?” he croons, and your abs clench. “Come on me where?”
Face flushed not just from the heat of the shower, you struggle to get the words out. “On your cock,” you ultimately whisper, walls tightening around nothing. “While you f-fuck me under the water. It’d feel so good. You wouldn’t stop even if I screamed.”
“That’s right, baby.” Your head spins delightfully. “You like it when I don’t stop, huh? You just want more. Until you come again.”
“Yeah.” You nod even though he can’t see you. Tears smart your eyes from how badly you miss him and how hard you’re fighting your orgasm. “I want to so bad. I’m so close.”
“Not yet,” he tells you, panting. “Not til I say so, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” you whimper helplessly through trembling lips. Your slick coats your thighs and you wish his tongue could clean you up. “After that I’d sit on your face. Let you taste me. Let you finish me again.”
An unintelligible sound, likely him forcing his own climax to wait. “You taste so good,” he moans. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue, too? Suck your clit til you’re ridin’ my face and can’t take it anymore? That all?”
“Bucky,” you whine, your clit throbbing even when you pull your hand away so you don’t disobey his order. “Fucking hell. I have to stop. I’m gonna explode.”
“No, baby, don’t stop. I didn’t say you could stop.” His voice cracks with desperation. “You keep touchin’ yourself.”
“Bucky, I’m gonna come if I keep going—”
“Get on your fucking knees,” he grunts, and your legs collapse without hesitation. Turning away from the water, letting it pound onto your back, you kneel on the tile and press your fingers onto your clit. “Good girl. You can take it.”
You bite your tongue so your whimper can’t be heard aloud. You wish he was behind you, buried so deep you could feel it in your stomach. Unrelenting, hard thrusts against your cervix, fingers digging into your hips. Lips at your ear, filthier than the devil.
“I want you here,” you sob, thighs quivering from the effort it takes not to come. “I need you here so bad, Buck.”
“I know, honey,” he coos, voice echoing throughout the shower. “Don’t cry. You’re okay. I’ll let you come in a minute. I’m close, baby.”
You rest your forehead on your arm, ass up now, water pouring down on your pussy. It’s the closest you can get to something other than yourself touching your body, but it’s just not enough.
“Bucky, please,” you shout, cum starting to seep onto your fingers.
“Go ahead, baby,” he approves, and he drops his phone onto his chest so he can stuff his fist in his mouth to muffle the sounds of his orgasm.
You tip over the edge, your clit pulsing hard as you follow suit. You grind on your fingers, pretending they’re his, pushing you further into your electrifying pleasure.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Bucky is panting from your phone, recovering from his high while guiding you through yours. “I hear you. Keep going, I want you to come again. Can you do that for me, baby?”
“Fuck!” you scream, another wave hitting you before the first has even finished. “Fuck, oh my God, Bucky—Bucky, fuck me—”
“I will, honey, I promise. Keep going. Feels so good, huh?”
“Yes,” you weep, on your side now but still rubbing your clit through your climax. It’s so intense, stars are popping across your vision. “Feels so fucking good.”
He grunts, probably squeezing as much as he can get out of his tip. You picture him in his bed, hand covered in cum, his dick still hard from listening to you fuck yourself.
Eventually it tapers off into aftershocks, so you ease up on your swollen clit, rolling onto your back to let the water cleanse your sticky thighs.
“Dear God,” you gasp, hand falling to your side, using your foot to turn the shower handle off once you’re clean.
“You okay?” Bucky asks softly, suddenly seeming so far above you.
“Yeah,” you say breathlessly. You manage to get back on your feet, knees shaking. Taking your phone with you, you step out and wrap yourself in a towel before sinking onto the toilet lid, your entire body vibrating.
“You sound so pretty when you come,” Bucky compliments, sleepy but happy.
“I do not,” you retort, remembering the whorish sounds you just made and blushing. “I’m like a dying animal.”
“Shut up,” he says lightheartedly. “You’re hot as fuck, babe.”
“Thanks, Sarge. You’re not too bad yourself.”
You dry off and go to find pajamas after brushing your teeth, your boyfriend’s breathing accompanying you. You end up pulling on one of his shirts and a pair of underwear, what you’ve been wearing to bed all week. You smell the fabric of the shirt, comforted.
“You going to bed?” he asks around a massive yawn.
“Mhm.” You plug in your phone and shove your bag onto the floor. Alpine looks at you in contempt for disturbing him once again. “You wore me out. I’m glad I don’t have to work lunch tomorrow.”
He hums in agreement. “I’ll be home before you know it, okay?”
“Okay.” You yawn, too. “Be safe, please. I worry about you more than you worry about me. I need you in one piece.”
He laughs. “Not losing this arm again, Shuri would kill me.”
“As she should. That thing costs like, what, a trillion dollars? Take care of it.”
“Of course. I only utilize it for necessary functions.”
You smile into his pillow, having automatically gravitated towards his side. “Very necessary, Sergeant Barnes.”
“Alright. I’ll let you sleep,” he whispers, using the last of his energy to say goodnight. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, sweet girl.”
Your eyes are already closed, body sinking into the mattress like it’s his body you’re falling asleep on.
“I love you more, loser.”