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Bucky Barnes was used to fitting his life into the size of his traveling bag. No strings. No roots. Pure freedom. He had learned to blend himself into his surroundings at each stop he made. Living out of quick jobs during his stay, enough money to keep himself fed and pay for a cheap hotel.
This lifestyle was a contrast to what his father had raised him to believe he wanted. The moment Bucky could break himself free from his expectations, he ran away. Only a bag, and the rest of his savings that were left after he bought his motorcycle. The same bike that became his new home.
Without a clear destination, he drove until he felt he could breathe. And he never stopped after that — well, until he met you.
He had met you in one of his stops, a year after he started his life on the road. A badly-lit smoky bar, sitting on a barstool as you nursed a beer. He had felt as if a magnetic force pulled him to you, making him sit next to you. He was a goner the moment you turned and muttered your name as you introduced yourself.
God, the things he would do only to hear you saying his name.
Maybe he had hit the jackpot, because the next thing he knew, his back was hitting the wall of the bathroom, with you on your knees, giving him the best blow job he had received in his life. After he came, he pulled you up to kiss you; the taste of the beer you had been drinking, mixed with himself, made him groan against your lips. Your hands worked him up as he struggled to pull your jeans down.
"Your name…" You whimpered as he pressed into you, still half-dressed. "Repeat to me your name."
"Bucky, my name is — uh, Bucky." He mumbled as he thrusted into you, over and over again.
He wasn't sure you heard him until, after a beat, you nodded and kissed him.
"Harder, baby." You whined, pulling his long hair, biting his bottom lip as you broke the kiss.
You had a grin on your face as he picked you up, and turned so your back was now against the tile. His hands stayed on your body, keeping your hips still with a bruising grip as he hammered his hips against yours.
"Yes, right there." You exclaimed in ecstasy, throwing your head back. Bucky didn't waste time and moved his attention to your exposed neck, sucking and nibbling in a way that made your legs shake around him. "Fuck, I'm close."
Bucky groaned against your neck—one of his hands went up your body, right up your mouth.
"Open." He ordered.
Eagerly, you took a couple of his fingers in your mouth, sucking them until they were wet enough for his liking.
"Good girl." He praised as he removed his hand from your mouth and directed it between your legs.
"Oh, my God." You moaned as he worked on your clit.
"Come around my cock, darling." He panted, making eye contact with you.
And you did. Your body tensed as you came, pulling him close, until you were murmuring nonsense in his ear about how good he felt.
"Oh— Bucky!" You, moaning his name, pushed him over the cliff. Warm ropes of his seed painted your gummy walls, milking him until both came down from your highs.
When you felt your legs could work again, you patted his shoulder so he could put you down. In silence, only with the muffled music and chatter of the bar as background noise, you pull yourself back together. Bucky offered to clean you, but you brushed him off, saying that you got it.
"I think I'll use the bathroom first. See you out there? "Bucky asked, stopping you before you could open the door. He must have seen the doubt in your face, because he added: "I'd like to buy you a drink."
"Yeah. Sure." You mumbled, and then with a quick, tight-lipped smile, you left the room.
It shouldn't have been a surprise that when he came out of the bathroom, straight to the bar, you were nowhere to be found. A single bill was resting under your half-drunk beer. He asked the bartender, but he just shrugged and informed him that you had left minutes ago. Bucky, confident that the town was small, asked if he knew where he could find you, but to his surprise, he found out that you weren't from there; in fact, you weren't even a regular visitor.
Over the course of the month that Bucky spent there, he looked for you, without any success, in every corner and face.
・・・・・
Four months later, as he arrived in a new city, he had been telling himself that he would never see you again, that whatever force in the universe had only made you cross paths once, and that was it.
For someone who had been eager to see you again, to actually have you in close range, he had stumbled with his own feet.
He was inside a convenience store on the outskirts of the city, near the highway. Bucky had decided to stay in this city during this month and was in the process of finding a job when he noticed a familiar figure through the windows of the store.
Standing beside one of the gasoline pumps, wearing a leather jacket and jean shorts, pumping gas into a pale yellow Impala.
Bucky stared at you in a trance; the person attending him even mentioned that he looked like he had seen a ghost. And to be honest, he might have.
The moment you stopped pumping gas, the spell broke. Bucky got out of the convenience store as if his feet were on fire, running towards you before you could get inside the car.
Bucky exclaimed your name to call your attention. A car honked at him, just a few inches away from running over him. He apologized, but his eyes never left you.
Your hair was flowing in the air, staring at him over your black shades. Your head was tilted, making it obvious your confusion and curiosity.
"Hey! How are you?" Bucky asked with a smile, trying to look nonchalant, even if he was struggling to keep his breath even.
"Good?" You replied, not sounding so sure. "Do I know you?"
"Oh," Bucky's face dropped for a second, then he made an effort to flash a smile at you. "We met the other day at a bar." You removed your glasses and looked him up and down.
"I'm sure I'd remember you if that was the case. I must've been drunk."
He wanted to correct you, remind you that, as far as he knows, you had only drunk not even half of a beer. But he decided to brush it off.
"Actually," he took a step forward, crowding you against the door of the car. "I owe you a drink."
You raised an eyebrow, "Do you?" You asked, staring at his lips.
He nodded. He raised his hands and placed one on each side of you, caging you between his body and the car.
"What do you say if we go for that drink, and I can refresh your memory?"
"Tempting." You said, lowering your shades. You held his stare for a moment and then huffed a laugh. "Yeah, why not?"
You pressed a finger in the middle of his chest as you took a step forward. "Follow me, I know a good place."
The place you had chosen was a biker bar nearby, and motorcycles were already lined up in front, even though the sun was not yet fully set, forcing both of you to park on the back of the building.
He followed you inside, his hand on the small of your back. Prying eyes followed you until you found an empty booth in the back. You exchanged a few nods on your way there, and right before smoothly taking a seat, you told him your drink of choice over your shoulder.
Bucky stared at you while waiting for your drinks. Possessiveness crawled under his skin every time he caught another man staring at you.
"Don't mind them, they are just curious." The bartender said as he prepared your drink.
Bucky frowned. "Curious?"
The bartender tilted his head in your direction. "You come with her, right?" Bucky nodded. "She's been here almost every night for the last two months. Gets here alone and leaves the same way. She talks with some of the other customers, but she's more interested in hearing the places they had visited than them getting in her pants."
Bucky's curiosity for you grew.
"You must be a very lucky guy." The bartender slid both drinks in front of him.
"I am." Bucky didn't hesitate to say and took the glasses, beelining straight to you.
He stood there for a second after placing your drink in front of you.
Should he sit across from you or next to you?
You, noticing his internal debate, decided for him and moved deeper into the booth, leaving enough for him to sit next to you comfortably.
"So, do you come here often?" Bucky cringed internally at his own cliché question.
"Did Thomas mention that?" You asked, squinting your eyes at him with a smile and pointing at the bar.
"He called me a very lucky guy." He said over the rim of his glass before taking a sip.
You tilted your head, eyes tracing his profile. "Are you?"
"Well," he placed his glass back on the table and shifted in his seat. He leaned back and put his arm behind you, turning slightly so he could face you. "I managed to find you again, and finally got to buy you the drink I promised you. I can argue that I'm indeed very lucky."
You hummed, considering his answer. He stared at you, watching as your tongue darted out, wetting your lips as you made sure to catch every drop of your drink that had caught on your lips. You then leaned back, mirroring his position as you turned slightly to face him.
"Do you think your luck has run out?" You asked, reaching out a hand and placing it over his thigh.
Bucky closed the distance between you and captured your lips. The kiss was passionate and deep, pure hunger. His hands roamed around your waist, pulling you close to him. You moved your leg, slotting it between his open legs. His hand quickly traveled down, gripping your thigh, fingertips grazing the hem of your jean shorts.
"Let's get out of here." He mumbled against your lips.
"I haven't finished my drink." You grinned, biting his lower lip and earning a groan from him.
Bucky targeted your neck, kissing and nibbling. And then, after kissing the spot that made you want to press your thighs together, he whispered against your ear, "That didn't stop you last time."
You bit your lip, and then you dragged him by the jaw for another kiss.
"Let's go." You said, breaking the kiss, and pushing him out of the booth.
He grabbed your hand, pulling you with him. And to avoid the risk of losing you in the growing crowd at the bar, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you headed out.
Thomas, the bartender, shook his head with a smile, watching you hug your friend by the waist, kiss him, and giggle until the door closed behind you.
You barely made it to your car before you were lost in each other's grasp. The kisses grew messier, guided by lust as he pinned you down on the passenger seat. The door was still open, your legs wrapped around him as his hips rutted against your core, his feet planted on the concrete for leverage.
"Fuck, you feel so good." He moaned against your mouth, the roar of engines around the building drowning the lewd sound of skin against skin.
Your back arched, feeling another imminent orgasm, he had already made you come with his fingers before you even got inside the car. He had kissed you against the door, grinding his hips against yours until you were begging him to touch you.
"I'm gonna —" He stopped, pulling out. You gasped in offense, trying to pull him back, but he was already moving away. You shivered, feeling the air hit your exposed and heated skin, missing the warmth of his body over yours. "Wh— Bucky!" You moaned when he slapped your pussy.
Your eyes rolled back the moment his tongue made contact with your dripping cunt. His hands were keeping you open for him, gripping your thighs harder as you tried to close your legs. He licked and sucked, eating you out as if it were his last meal. Your hips moved at their own accord, grinding against his mouth, searching for more and more.
His lips latched onto your clit, sucking until it sent you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you hard, and your legs trembled against his head as he drank your juices, humming with satisfaction. Once you felt you came back to your body, you pulled him up to kiss you.
"What the fuck was that?" You mumbled, breathless.
"I told you, I owed you." He said, leaving kisses on your neck and jaw.
"What?" You frowned, trying to stay focused as his hand traveled under your blouse, pulling your bra down and teasing your nipples.
"You gave me a blowjob in that bar, but I didn't get to taste you. I couldn't risk it for it to happen again." He explained, and before you could say something else, his cock pushed inside you, the slickness thanks to your orgasms mixing with his saliva, making it slip inside with ease.
"Holy shit," you exclaimed, the overwhelming sensation clouded your senses.
"Where were we?" He teased, the force of his strokes making your tits bounce.
"It's too —" you gasped, "too much. Fuck, don't stop."
Your orgasm caught you by surprise, you clenched around him, sucking him in as wave after wave of ecstasy rippled inside you. His hips were pressed against yours, grinding as he reached his climax, emptying himself inside you as you milked him.
He bent over your body, his forehead pressed on your collarbone as he panted, trying to regain composure. A trembling hand found its way to the back of his head, your fingertips leaving featherlike touches on his nape, fighting the urge to bury it in his hair.
"Did I refresh your memory?" Bucky said after a few minutes of silence.
"Yeah, very much." You said, and then you laughed. Bucky whimpered as he felt you shifting under him. "What were the odds of meeting again?"
"You're leaving again, aren't you?" He said, and even if he was technically asking, it was more of an affirmation.
"Yeah, I am." You said, looking down at him, when you met his eyes, you pulled him up to kiss you. "It's your fault for finding me on my way out." You muttered against his lips, your thumb caressing his jaw as you said it.
"You can't stay any longer?"
"I wish, but I have other plans right now." You said, "I want to keep traveling. For years, I was chained up in one place. I need to explore before thinking of planting roots somewhere else, somewhere it is my decision, not others."
It was almost scary the way you were basically describing him, too. Deep down, he wanted to assure you that staying more won't mean abandoning yourself, but he could understand how important it was to find yourself.
Still, he tried a less committing request.
"Care to share where you're going?"
You scrunched your nose. "That will ruin the fun, and to be honest, I don't even know, I'll know once I get there."
"Ah, I see." He said, before kissing you again, he could feel every second left with you slipping from his hands like sand.
You pulled back from the kiss, but he chased your lips, making you giggle. You gave him another kiss and then pulled back again, this time holding a finger against his lips to let you talk. "I have an idea," You said.
He bit your finger with a grin. "I have one, too." He rolled his hips, making you shiver under him.
"Hmm, listen first, and then, ah, we can do that too." You said until he stilled his hips again.
"I'm listening." He said, with a devil grin as his lips found your skin again.
You sighed. "What if we test our odds again?"
He hummed against your skin, kisses traveling lower to your collarbone.
"If we find each other again…"
"When." He corrected you.
"When we find each other again, wherever that is… we can continue this."
He lifted his head, meeting your eyes. "And if we met after that?"
"We do it again."
"Yeah?" He shifted, pulling out an inch and burying back again inside you.
"And again." You moaned as he repeated his move.
"And again," Bucky said, with a teasing grin, drilling inside you with more force.
"And again." You babbled as he grabbed you by the hips.
Each thrust was a statement. A promise. A link after link assembling the chain that would keep you together, and that the fate and distance would test.
Good luck, fate.
And so the test began.
You parted ways hours later. Bucky staying in town, and you moving to your next destination, wherever that was. You drove for hours, stopping only if necessary, until you landed in a town that felt right. The ghost of his touch still lingered in your skin after days, a burning reminder of your hours together.
In the cold, lonely nights, you touched yourself, aided by your memory, but it didn't feel the same. Your highs weren't the same without the warmth of his body against yours, or the way he filled you until you thought you couldn't stretch more, the way he reached deeper than your fingers could, leaving you unsatisfied.
Months passed, and Bucky wondered if your fates were two parallel lines, only destined to meet twice. Some nights, he wondered if he had dreamed you. If you had been a fragment of his imagination and his loneliness, a wake-up call to settle down, disguised by temptation
When the calendar marked two months since that last night together, he arrived in another town. He drove around the city until someone pointed him to the nearest motel.
Bucky followed his routine, bought more supplies, and a small amount of food, enough to last a couple of days while he searched for a job. He arrived at the motel as the sun set, prepared his dinner, and ate it in front of the TV while a movie played.
Later that night, he noticed he needed more ice to cool the beers he had bought that evening. He grabbed the bucket and left his room in search of the ice machine.
The thing about the building where Bucky was staying was its design. Rooms aligned forming an L shape, a parking spot designated to each room right in front of each door. To get to the ice machine, he had to walk all the way back to the main office, located on the opposite side of where his room was.
Bucky walked, whistling to keep himself entertained, but he stopped in his tracks when something caught his eye.
The truck of the nearest occupied room was moving back to leave the place, and as it moved, it revealed the car that was parked right next to it.
A pale yellow Impala.
Bucky almost choked. With renewed urgency, he rushed to the corresponding room. He stood in front of the door for a few seconds, listening to the noise coming from inside; someone was walking on the other side.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and waited.
The person inside approached the door, and Bucky guessed that they were using the door’s peephole to see him. A beat later, the door unlocked, and it opened.
His eyes quickly found your face, a relieved sigh left him just as you stretched your hand and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him inside the room and kissing him.
The kiss was messy, teeth clashing since both couldn't stop grinning, the sound of your laughter drowning in each other's mouths.
“I can't believe it,” Bucky said as he put his arms around your waist and lifted you, making you wrap your legs around him.
“That this time we have a bed?” You giggled between kisses.
Still with your mouth connected, he walked towards the bed until he deposited you there. Your back met the mattress, Bucky’s chest pressed against yours, making the bed groan over your joined weight.
“Cheap bed, but it's a bed.” He said, as his hands roamed over your body, desperate to feel your naked skin against his. You matched his desperation, as your fingers worked to remove his jeans, groaning with frustration when your fingers struggled to take off his belt.
“Off, now.” You grunted, giving up on your task, and switching to remove your own clothes and shoes.
Bucky laughed, getting up to take off his jeans, the item joining his shirt on the floor next to his shoes, as well as his socks and underwear. His eyes returned to you, finding you resting on your elbows, naked, looking at him with the same intensity.
“Wow.” He let out.
“What?”
“You look beautiful.”
Heat crept up your chest, and you were sure your cheeks were flushed.
“Is this the first time we've seen each other without clothes?” You wondered out loud, and then your eyes widened. “Oh my God, it is!”
“And with better light. Not in a barely lit bathroom, nor the back of a building.” Bucky added.
“Let me touch you, please.” You begged, reaching a hand, and when he didn't move, you crawled towards him, getting off the bed until you were in front of him. “What is it?”
“I’m just trying to memorize this moment,” Bucky said, his hands quickly finding your sides the moment you were within reach.
“I can help with that.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, and then you were on your knees. “Can you help me with my hair?” You batted your eyelashes at him, holding your hair in a ponytail with one hand, while the other caressed his leg.
He nodded, speechless.
His hand replaced the one in your hair, and when you had your hand free, it moved towards his half-hard cock, grabbing it and guiding it towards your mouth.
“Eyes on me, big boy.” You said before leaving a kiss on the tip. Making eye contact, you dragged your tongue over a vein, making him whimper at the feel of your warm mouth, and threw his head back.
Your mouth and hands left him.
“What did I say?”
Bucky gulped. “Eyes on you.”
“Good boy,” You purred, getting your attention back to his thick cock.
You started stroking him with one hand, slowly, while the other played with his balls. Your tongue licked the tip again, and a delighted moan left you as you tasted his precum.
“The first time I did what I wanted with your cock.” You said, looking up while you kept stroking, wrist twisting when it reached the tip. “This time, I want you to use me to make you feel good. Teach me how to please you.”
You batted your eyelashes again.
“Can you do that, baby?”
He nodded, breath getting ragged the more you worked him up. “Yes, I can do that.”
“I’ll tap your thigh if I need a second or to stop, okay? Like this,” you tapped his thigh twice.
“Got it.” He said.
And then you opened your mouth, moaning around the tip as it entered your mouth. One of your hands went to his thigh to help support you, while the other moved over his hand to the back of your head.
You pushed his hand slowly, signaling that it was okay to move your head. Hesitant, he tightened his grip on your hair and pushed you forward barely an inch. You whined around him and then moved your hand back to join his opposite thigh.
You held your mouth open wide, swallowing his dick and letting him set the pace, and hollowing your cheeks to suck. You held eye contact, even if your eyes rolled back for a few instants.
Bucky babbled praises, mumbling about your perfect mouth and how pretty you looked. You whined around him with each praise, feeling yourself getting wet until your pussy demanded attention.
Your eyes watered the more deeply you took him down your throat. For a beat, he held you still once you took his whole length in your mouth.
The chain of praises that he gave you made you start rolling your hips, searching for touch. After a few minutes, you had had enough and took the matter into your own hands, literally.
Your hand left his thigh, making him slow down his pace, thinking you were about to signal to stop. But instead, he watched in awe as your hand traveled south, disappearing between your legs. You moaned around him as you began playing with your clit, eyes rolling back as spit got down your chin.
“Prettiest girl in the whole world. Are you touching yourself? Are your fingers enough, baby? Don’t you prefer my cock inside you?”
You nodded, or at least tried, at his last question.
“Did I already ruin you to the point you can only get off with my cock inside you?”
You whined, batting your eyelashes.
Yes.
“Fuck.” He hissed, pulling his dick out of your mouth.
You gasped for air, and then his mouth was on yours. He pulled you up, taking you back to the bed, removing your hand from between your legs.
He tried to slot himself between your legs, but you pushed him off until he was lying on his back. You didn't waste time and straddle his hips, grinding over his cock, feeling it getting wet with your slick.
Bucky watched you as you moved, his hands holding you by the hips but letting you set the pace.
“You’re such a pretty girl,” Bucky muttered, lifting a hand until he was cupping one of your breasts.
“You think so?” You tilted your head to the side, smiling.
“Prettiest girl I have ever seen. I'm so glad we found each other.”
He synced his work on your nipple with your movements, rolling his fingers each time you glided forward, and his tip kissed your clit. The dual sensation sent shivers down your spine.
You lined him with your wet entrance, and then, painfully slow, you lowered yourself until all of him was inside you.
Your jaw went slack, feeling the delicious stretch as your pussy molded around him.
With both hands in his chest, you rolled your hips, feeling every vein and inch of him. Your eyes never left his, wanting to see in his face if he was feeling what you were feeling.
“So perfect. Look at you, using my cock to take what you need.” His pupils were blown, the blue in his eyes barely a ring around them.
He looked at you with devotion in his eyes.
Something twisted inside you, and almost as if the chain that joined you had been tugged, you collapsed over his body. Your lips found his with open-mouthed kisses, as you moved your hips up and down.
Bucky, who had been letting you mark the pace, felt his own control snapping like a twig. He placed both feet on the mattress, and with his hands taking control of your hips, he snapped his hips up, meeting you mid-trust.
You gasped, feeling him hit deeper, your whimpers dying in his mouth, drowned by the groaning of the mattress.
The slapping of your skin against his and the squelch sound that came from where you were joined, mixed with the string of praises and lewd moans, filled the room.
You came with his name on your lips, fingers closed in tight fists, clenching around the fabric of the sheets to help ground you. Bucky’s pace got erratic until he buried himself deep inside you, holding your hips flush against his as he came inside you.
Slowly, the aftershocks left your body, leaving you boneless against his chest. He didn't pull out; he just made sure you were comfortable over him and held you. He caressed your body with hesitant hands, featherlight touches on your back and hips, almost as if he was afraid you would leave sooner if you felt trapped.
Slowly, you shifted, getting comfortable by his side, forcing him to pull out as you rested your head on his chest. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, eyes shining with delight, with a soft smile on your face. You shifted again, corresponding to his faint touches, your fingers tracing lazy figures in his chest.
But then, as if a record scratching echoed in your mind, you stilled. You took a sharp breath in. Bucky braced himself, already getting ready for you to push him out of your bed the moment he felt you tensing under his touch. Instead, you shifted, turning to bury your face in his chest, breathing him in, you raised your face and met his eyes.
There was a pained frown on your face. “I leave tomorrow.” You whispered.
He raised a hand and cupped your cheek; you leaned towards his touch. He took another beat to reply. “Then let's make the time we have left count.” He finally said, pulling you to him and locking his lips with yours.
You melted against him. One of your hands traveled up, touching his jaw and neck, while the other moved to his hair. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, rolling you both until your back touched the mattress, slotting himself between your thighs.
You forgot about everything else inside the bubble that formed around you. No pressure. No worries. Nothing else mattered. Just you and him. His skin against yours. His touch became your gravity.
・・・・・
Time passed by in stolen moments across the months. And slowly, as if destiny had caught on to your stubbornness to keep this lifestyle while chasing each other across the country. The time you had together began to stretch; at first, it was more hours, like that time in that motel where you got at most twelve hours together.
Six months later, after finding each other three times in the span of those months, you got to two full days. You had found Bucky at the grocery store, checking some fruit to buy. You had called his name and jumped into his arms when he turned. He held you in his arms, kissing you until you were breathless. You didn't care if someone saw you; you just needed to feel him, feel his hands and lips on you to know that he was real.
That day, it was the first time that he held your hand outside the times you had sex, where he gripped your hands while he fucked you deep.
He held your hand while you told him that you were there to pick up your last check, and since you had been in the town for two months, you volunteered to show him the place.
After that time, you promised to stay at least a full day to spend more time together, as you showed each other the highlights of your time there. The place where you worked, the places you visit. You exchanged anecdotes, glimpses of your day-to-day, the goods and the bad.
Three months later, he took you to dance for the first time. You found him earlier that day, as he strolled down the street while you were leaving a store. He had seen you first, and the moment you stopped by your car, he had hugged you from behind. You instinctively turned and slapped him hard. Which led to his invitation as an apology, even if both knew it was an excuse to spend more time together, a prelude to surrendering to your craving for each other.
He had gone to the bathroom after dancing, well, dancing, grinding, and making out on the dancefloor for hours, when a man approached you at your standing table. He seemed nice, surely drunk enough that he slurred his words. He kept talking about his big apartment that you really needed to see in person.
You had snorted at his words, entertained by him, sipping at your drink to cool down while he rambled. The guy was attractive, you wouldn't lie. But right now, you were more focused on someone in particular.
The moment Michael — was that even his name? — froze. Eyes suddenly looking over your shoulder, you knew that Bucky was behind you.
He didn't say anything at the beginning, strutting towards you like a tornado. Strong, steady. Dangerous. Bucky placed a hand around your waist from behind you, leaning down to kiss your neck.
“Having fun?” He muttered against your ear, nipping at your earlobe.
You tilted your head, giving him more room to explore. "You were taking too long." You taunted him.
Heat pooled in your lower belly when he pulled you against him, letting you feel all of him. The moment you pressed your thighs together, you felt him smirk against your neck.
Michael blinked at both of you, and then he quickly took a step back, stumbling. “Sorry, dude, I didn't know she was taken.” Being on the receiving end of Bucky’s murderous gaze made him run away from your table.
“Let’s go.” His voice rumbled, and then with his arm around your shoulders, he guided you to the exit.
Your drink stayed half full at the table, forgotten. But right now it didn't matter. You were in the appetite for something way different, getting drunk in the ecstasy that Bucky Barnes gave you.
Bucky drove your car to his hotel. His hand lingered heavily over your thigh, making circles with his fingers that made you want to take his hand and guide it to where you needed him the most.
The moment that he unlocked the door, he was on you. Desperate kisses, hands all over you as he undressed you. Bucky went down on one knee in front of you, grabbed your leg, and planted your heel over his thigh and unblucked it as he kissed up your leg. Once he was done and your heel hit the floor after he threw it, he repeated the motions with the other.
“We still have tomorrow,” you had reminded him when he resumed his attack on your neck against the door.
"Not enough."He hummed against your skin.
Once your dress pooled around your feet, he carried you to the bed and dropped you in the middle. He kissed again with urgency, as if you were about to leave. His kisses trailed down your body. Whatever he kept mumbling under his breath was muffled against your skin.
And then he was between your legs, the fabric of your panties tearing, and his hot breath against your core was your only warning before he started devouring you.
There was something different in Bucky tonight, you noticed by the way his lips and tongue worked on you. He didn't relent until your legs were shaking, and you were a babbling mess.
Bucky kept muttering under his breath while he undressed, giving you barely any time to catch your breath. Once his cock was freed from the cage that was his clothes, he returned his attention to you.
You attempted to crawl to him, ready to return the favor, but he met you midway, pushing you back to the bed with his body as he kissed you. You opened your legs so he could position between them, but he grabbed you by your hips and flipped you.
“Buck-ah.” You were cut off by him, manhandling you into position.
Your ass was high in the air, back arched, with your chest and head buried on the sheets. He placed one hand on the back of your neck, keeping you in place.
You were still overstimulated when he buried himself inside your weeping hole. At that point, you weren't sure what was coming out of your mouth, probably whimpers that somehow sounded like Please and his name.
Over the last few months, Bucky had fucked you in many ways. The first time after finding each other again was always desperate, as if both had been going for a millennium without the other and both needed to make up for the time you were apart. Kisses with teeth colliding, basically ripping your clothes apart, sighing pathetically the moment he pushed inside you — you compared the feeling to finally catching your breath after going too long underwater.
Then it became less frenetic; he would take time to kiss and touch your skin, explore your body as if he were saying hello. If you make it to the next morning, lazy sex after waking up was a must, a way of saying I'll see you soon, a promise.
You weren't sure if you had ever seen Bucky as —
“Mine,” Bucky growled louder this time, finally making sense of what he had been saying, keeping your hips still as he drilled you from behind, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust.
Oh.
Bucky was being possessive.
And fuck, you liked that.
A lot.
You clenched around him after you heard the word.
“You like that, don't you?” Bucky said, he leaned down, pressing you against the mattress, his right arm wrapped around your neck, putting you in a headlock as he pounded in and out of you and whispered filthy things in your ear. “You like knowing that you're mine. That this pussy is mine to please. Only I can make you feel like this.”
You whimpered, eyes rolling back as he tilted your hips, each stroke hitting that sweet spot inside you. The grip on your skin was definitely going to leave a mark, but you didn't care.
“Bucky,” you whimpered, moving your hips back in time to meet him mid-trust, each hit harder once he aided you.
“I’m going to ruin you for anybody else.”
“You already did.” You managed to say.
Your confession made him go faster, as he branded you inside out. You could feel him everywhere — inside you, in your skin, in each intake of breath.
"Fuck, baby." He groaned, his hold on your neck tightened to the point you felt the corners of your eyesight blur, and tears rolled down your cheeks. "You're mine. Mine."
"I'm yours." You moaned, "God, I'm gonna…" You could barely talk, feeling the edge approaching. You clenched the sheets in your fists, trying to ground yourself before taking off.
Bucky sneaked a hand under you, finding your clit. "That's it, baby, come on your cock. It's all yours. I wanna feel you, give it to me." He growled in your ear.
"All yours…" You echoed, and then the coil in your belly tightened until it snapped.
White-hot pleasure clouded your senses; you barely registered that you were gushing all over Bucky’s cock and his hand, the squelch noise getting louder as you felt your slick dripping between your thighs. Your muscles tensed and relaxed over and over as you ride out your orgasm, all while Bucky kept fucking and praising you through it.
Your walls kept clenching around him, pulling him in until he came with a growl. He stayed inside you, as he collapsed over your body, caging you under his weight and the mattress until both of you floated down to your bodies.
“We made a mess.” You mumbled, panting.
Your skin was flushed, clammy with sweat, and your hair was messy and sticking to your face.
Bucky thought you had never looked more beautiful.
He grabbed you by your jaw and turned your face, smashing his lips with yours. He moaned against your lips as he kissed you deeply. His hips jolted forward, making you whimper from the overestimulation.
He pulled out and flipped you on your back. His lips found yours like a magnet, his hands gripping you close to him until your hips were bucking up, grinding against him.
“Again?” He muttered after a few minutes. You chased his lips and bit his lower lip.
“Please.”
“Such a good girl, only for me.” Bucky purred against your lips. He pulled back slightly, only to move his target to your neck and collarbone.
“Bucky,” you moaned his name, as he slid his cock between your pussy, each drag teasing your clit.
He sat on his heels, looking down at your body, continuing his motions, teasing you. His pupils were blown, heavy-lidded eyes as he watched you squirm under his sight. He slapped his cock against your clit, making you jerk your hips, desperate to feel him inside.
"Patience, baby, let me see you." He cooed.
His hands traveled between your legs, opening you up to him as he watched residues of his come and your slick pouring out of you. He dragged two fingers, collecting some fluids, and then he pushed both fingers inside you.
“Beautiful.” He said, repeating the motions.
Your back arched as you bucked your hips against his hand. But as you did, he took his fingers out. You looked up to confront him, but all that came out of your mouth was a whimper the moment he slapped your pussy.
“Eyes on me. I want you to remember who made you feel this good.” Bucky said, returning his attention to your core.
You kept your eyes on him as he fingered you. His other hand started to roam around, focusing on your nipple. He leaned forward, and without removing his eyes from you, he latched his mouth to your other nipple.
His name left your lips like a prayer as he worshipped your body. When he noticed you were close, he removed his hand from you and grabbed your legs from behind your knees, pushing your legs against your chest in a mating press. And then he pushed inside in a single stroke.
“You’re mine.” He mumbled, leaving open-mouthed kisses on the corner of your mouth.
For a moment, all you knew was pleasure, each movement of his hips dragging whimpers out of your mouth without control. Your nails dug into his back as he pistoned inside you.
“I’m — mmm,” Your toes curled as you stammered.
“Come, baby, give it to me, make me proud.”
His command was all you needed; your orgasm crashed like waves against the shore. Bucky followed you closely, and as you came down from your high, he left kisses all over your face.
The contrast wasn't lost on you; aftercare with Bucky was… nice, not bad but nothing special… just nice. He held you until your breaths were under control again, kissed your skin until the heat of your lust subsided, licking your remaining tears away, and your legs were stable enough for you to walk to the bathroom to clean yourselves or to leave the secluded spots you sometimes opt to when the craving was too much.
However, this time, there was something else behind his caresses and praises. Something warmer. Each kiss and touch left a more permanent mark, branding you as his.
As your mind cleared from the post orgasm high, a question echoed in your mind.
What the fuck are we?
A dangerous question that you had been trying to ignore since it appeared. This arrangement was supposed to be something temporary, a dare to fate. Something that would help keep the edge off during your months on the road, only if you kept finding each other.
The problem was that you kept finding each other. During your travels, you had bumped into many people with similar plans like yours, endless nomads in search of a new adventure. But you had rarely found them again, let alone almost every couple of months. Bucky became a constant in a path that didn't mean to have one — you kept finding each other as if there was a force between you that, unknowingly to you, kept pushing you in each other's direction, influencing your decisions to meet again.
After the first encounter, you had never predicted that you would end up months later in his hotel room, under his weight as he kissed you and moaned your name. Calling you his with a conviction that made you suspect if he meant it outside the bubble that was your stolen moments of passion.
"Bathroom," you mumbled, lightly pushing him off you without really trying, just a signal that you were ready for him to move.
Bucky froze, his lips still hovering over the corner of your mouth. He shifted back, scanning your face, trying to read you. He rolled over, letting you crawl off the bed. Bucky tried to follow you, but you raised a hand to stop him.
“Wait here. I have to pee.” You said, and then you padded barefoot to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.
A few moments later, he heard you flushing the toilet, and as if he was a dog, he perked up in anticipation of you coming back to bed, not for another round, at least not yet; he just wanted to hold you, get lost in the warmth that you were.
He stared at the door, any moment now you would come out.
Except you didn't.
Instead, the shower went on. Bucky got up in an instant. Were you taking a shower without him? No matter how tiny the shower of the motels you stayed in, almost as a ritual, you showered together in the cramped place. It was a mix of aftercare and foreplay, your actions always teetering between that fine line.
He walked to the bathroom and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. He frowned, staring at the white door between you.
A few minutes later, you got out of the bathroom surrounded by the remaining steam of your hot shower, a towel wrapped around your naked figure.
“You took a shower,” Bucky said from his spot seated on the bed. The dirty sheets were crumpled next to the door. He had called the front desk to ask for clean ones, and without letting the staff set foot inside, he had grabbed them and changed the bed himself.
“Yeah, I was too sticky, I got uncomfortable.” You mumbled, using your fingers to comb your hair.
Bucky hummed, getting up.
“I guess it's my turn then.”
“The bathroom is yours. Hopefully, there's still hot water.” You said, moving aside so he could enter the bathroom.
Bucky stopped right by your side, his hand touched your arm, making you lift your eyes to see him.
“Did I hurt you? I was a little bit rougher than other times.” He asked, as his eyes scanned your skin, which was already bruising from his grip on you.
“Don't worry, you didn't. I guess both got carried away.” You said, clenching the towel against your chest and looking up at him with a tight-lipped smile.
Something shifted behind Bucky’s eyes. The warmth in his eyes turned icy cold. Sharp edges appeared, and walls were lifted around him, mirroring yours.
“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky mumbled, dropping his hand and turning to the bathroom without looking back.
The room felt cold once he left. Not to his surprise, you were already dressed when he stepped back into the room. You were sitting on the bed, finishing putting back your heels, when you lifted your eyes to look at him.
"You're leaving?" He asked, once you stood up.
"I have to go back to my hotel, I still have to pack and return my key in the morning." You walked towards him. He was frowning when you sneaked a hand up behind his neck and pulled him down, connecting your lips with his.
His words remained unspoken: Don't go.
Once you pulled back, you caressed his jaw and looked him in the eyes. "I'll see you in a few hours, okay? Breakfast, our usual hour? There's this good place near my hotel, Rosie's Diner, right next to the highway."
"Sounds good."
You pecked his lips once more and then walked to the door. "You owe me a pair of panties, by the way." You tilted your head to point at the lacy fabric at the foot of the bed.
He flushed, scratching the back of his neck.
"I got carried away."
"I realized." You sighed and opened the door. You looked at him over your shoulder for a beat. "Goodbye, Bucky."
The last thing you heard him say before you closed the door behind you was your name.
Bucky facepalmed himself once the door clicked behind you. Why the fuck didn't he ask you to stay? He could tell that what you said was partly true, but it was also an excuse. He could have joined you — but did you want that? Would you have accepted him to go with you?
Bucky had just arrived in the city, and his stuff was still packed in his bag.
He could go with you.
No more tests. No more frantically looking around in each city, wondering if you were there. You could travel together. You could stop testing how far you could stretch the chain that joined you together and surrender to its pull.
That night, as Bucky rolled in bed without managing to sleep, he realized something. For the last few months, his intent had not been to enjoy the freedom of his travel. He didn't decide to move out of each city because he was falling into the monotony and needed a change in scenery — he did it because he was going mad missing you and needed to move to find you.
He needed you.
He wanted you.
All of this had started as a surrender to his lust, a craving for pleasure. But the more he thought about it, when at first he had missed your body, now he found himself craving for your company, his heart ached to hear your laugh as you told him about your day-to-day, watch the bliss in your eyes as you stared at him after he pulled away from a kiss. He still craved the sex, but he equally yearned for the moment after that, the slow, mundane moments, holding you in his arms, kissing you, existing with you.
It had been too long since Bucky had gone without a home that he had forgotten how it felt having one.
His breath caught in his throat when the realization hit — he loved you.
That morning, Bucky returned his room's key and drove towards the diner with one goal in mind: he needed to tell you how he felt, offer his heart on a silver platter, and allow you to decide if you accepted him in your life.
He arrived at Rosie's in a matter of a few minutes; the weather reflected the storm inside him. The wind was strong with dark clouds threatening heavy rain approaching on the horizon. Thunder rumbled somewhere down the highway. He sent a prayer to whoever was above for the storm to pass quickly, in case you still wanted to leave today after talking with him — driving in that weather, even in a car, and especially on a motorcycle, was a death wish.
Judging by the cars outside, you haven't arrived yet, but still, he got off his motorcycle and entered the local diner. The place was nice indeed, red vinyl booths, chess floor, neon signs hanging from the walls, following the distinct aesthetic of the decade.
He approached the large counter where a lady was cleaning with a rag, humming the song that played on the jukebox in the corner.
"Welcome to Rosie's, table for 1?" The lady asked with a bright smile.
"For two, I'm waiting for someone."
"Take a seat, handsome. You can choose wherever you like. Today seems like the storm scattered everyone."
Bucky gave her a nod and sat down at a booth, staring out the window that faced the parking space. He fidgeted with a napkin, tearing it into little pieces as his leg bounced nervously.
The kitchen door opened, and a waitress stepped inside, holding a pot of coffee.
"Welcome to Rosie's, would you like —" The waitress froze once she got to his table. "Wow, she didn't lie when she said you were handsome."
Bucky turned to see her.
"Beautiful eyes indeed." She added. "You must be Bucky."
Bucky blinked. "Yeah, I am. M' sorry, what?"
She said your name.
"She worked here the last couple of months. She told me you would come today."
Something in the way she said it made Bucky's stomach turn.
"She —"
"She left you this." She dug in the pocket of her apron and took out a piece of paper. She walked away to give him privacy to read it after she left it on the table.
Bucky took the paper with trembling hands. Part of him already knew what it read, but still, he opened it.
I'm sorry. I can't keep doing this. I wish you all the happiness and that you find what you're looking for.
I'll never forget you.
Forever yours.
You had signed the note with your name.
He stood up quickly and rushed towards the waitress; she and the lady at the counter were already looking at him with empathy.
"She left just before dawn." The lady — Rosie, if her name tag didn't lie — said before he could open his mouth. "She didn't say where, but she took the 25 to the south."
He thanked her and rushed to the door.
"Bucky!" The waitress called him, and when he turned, she added, "I hope you find her. Be careful."
"I will."
Bucky got out of the dinner in a hurry; the rain was already pouring down as he took the 25. However, he was stopped by a police car.
"Sir, I'm in a hurry!" Bucky exclaimed.
"Relax, son. The road is closed. This storm caused an accident."
Bucky felt his blood run cold.
”An accident,” he turned to the highway, as if straining his sight would allow him to see your car. “What type of accident?”
“Two vehicles collided due to the slippery road. They ended fucked up, I heard my partner confirming there were casualties, the ambulance —”
“What type of vehicles?” Bucky barked, making the officer narrow his eyes at him. Bucky’s heart was pounding with fear in his chest, “Please, sir, the woman I love just took this road a few hours ago. She,” he choked, “She drives a pale yellow Impala.”
The man’s features softened with empathy.
“Two heavy-duty trucks. No other vehicles were affected.” Bucky let out a shaky breath of relief. “Maybe if you're lucky, she’ll come back in this direction. For what it's being reported, some parts of the road are closed due to inundation. Most vehicles are returning.”
Bucky thanked the officer and went back to the diner. He waited there the whole day until Rosie approached him and suggested that he go to rest. He paid for a room at the hotel you had stayed at, near the diner, but he couldn't sleep, not with the heavy weight on his stomach that realized that he had lost you again.
He took the road again once the sun was up, with only one goal in mind: to find you. An hour into his trip, he found himself at a literal crossroad — the road in front of him broke in two; one would take him closer to you, the other further away. He said a prayer to whoever was listening and took the left road.
He searched for you in each town, each city that he could. He drove his motorcycle around the streets, eyes peeled in search of a glimpse of your car. He stayed in each city for a week, at least at the beginning, and as he kept moving forward, that time frame turned into a month or so.
Bucky didn't want to give up; he didn't know how, even if he wanted to — the reason? For months, after each encounter with you, there was a fear inside him and a heavy conviction that that could be the last time he saw you, only for him to find you again a couple of months later.
The fate had indulged him for so long that he had forgotten how to let go.
Some nights, as he stared at the ceiling of his cheap room, he wondered if he had taken the other road, maybe by now he would have found you. He tried to drown that thought; he needed to trust your connection.
You had found each other plenty of times, of course, you would find each other again. No matter how many months were scratched off the calendar.
A year later, Bucky found himself back in the town he had last seen you, after he finally succumbed to the thought that maybe if he took the other road, he might find you. However, Bucky drove past the crossroad into the city. Why? Be couldn't really explain. He just knew that he needed to be there.
“Bucky?, Is that you?” A girl asked while he pumped gas. When he turned, he found not another than the same waitress who had delivered the news of your departure. “What are you doing here?”
She seemed shocked as if she had seen a ghost, and within reason, for what she knew about him, he might as well be on the other side of the country.
“I haven't found her, I’m gonna try taking the other route.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you still looking for her?”
“I am. She told me to find what I was looking for to be happy, that's her, she needs to know.”
She nodded, chewing her lower lip as she considered something. Bucky was clueless about her inner conflict, too focused on getting his tank full to drive uninterrupted to the next city.
“You should come by the diner before you leave.” She said.
“I don't know, I want to be in the next city before it gets dark.”
“Please,” she said with urgency. “We have this new dish that is to die for, you can't drive without having a full stomach. It will be on the house.”
Bucky lifted his eyebrows at her. “Really?”
“Yeah, take it as an apology for last time, you barely enjoyed your food that day, at least give us a chance for you to leave with a good memory.”
It wasn't as if he was struggling with his savings, but if he could save a little and get good food in return… well, who was he to say no to that?
Bucky considered for a second and, removing the pump, he shrugged. “Fine, you win. I'll come by at lunch.”
“Great! You won't regret it. I'll see you later.” She smiled at him before leaving.
The bell over the front door rang as Bucky stepped into the local diner a few hours later, just as it started drizzling. The jukebox in the corner played some soft rock in the almost empty establishment. The parallels with the day he lost you were painfully evident, making his heart twist.
Rosie was again by the counter, talking with the waitress who had met Bucky that morning, both were talking in hushes. The moment he stepped inside, Rosie gave him a bright smile and announced that someone would serve him soon and take a seat.
The waitress took it as a sign and disappeared into the kitchen. Bucky brushed off the weird reaction to being caught by surprise, and that she needed to bring the pot of coffee like a year ago.
Bucky took a seat on the same booth he had occupied a year prior, not on purpose, of course, but he had realized that fact when his eyes trailed to the parking lot, and the view was particularly the same.
"Welcome to Rosie's, would you like —”
Bucky turned his head fast, almost causing him whiplash.
Standing in front of the table, you were there, looking beautiful as always. Your hair was up, allowing him to take a look at the curve of your neck where his lips had trailed and bitten countless times. You were wearing the waitress uniform, apron spotless, with your name tag on your chest. The coffee pot was tightly held in your hands as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
He muttered your name.
Your mouth gaped, unsure of what to say. A beat later, you cleared your throat, blinking rapidly as you forced yourself to reboot. "Welcome to Rosie's. Would you like a cup of coffee?” You said robotically, staring at the window.
“You’re here.”
“We offer regular and decaf, sir.”
“Please, look at me,” Bucky begged.
You stretched your hand and took his cup, filling it as you recited your practiced speech. “Are you ready to order, or do you need another minute?”
He tried to touch your hand as you placed his now-filled mug in front of him. You removed your hand as if his touch had burned you.
“We have a variety of burgers, salads, pastas, and sandwiches. I personally recommend Rosie’s special, which is our most recent addition, and if you order it, I assure you, you won't regret it.”
“Did I hurt you? Is that why you leave?”
You turned to the right, pressing your lips together. “I’m trying to work.” You mumbled.
“Just look at me, I need to talk with you.”
“I’ll give you a minute for you to decide what to order. Once you're ready, you can raise your hand, and I’ll be back to take your order.” You took the pot of coffee in your hands and, with a fast pace, you walked away towards the kitchen door.
The moment you burst into the kitchen, Daisy, your friend and co-worker, was already looking at you with a face that told you that she knew exactly what had happened. Part of you wanted to laugh at the realization that Daisy knew Bucky was out there the moment she went back to the kitchen, and she told you to serve the client since she needed to go to the bathroom.
There was a big chance that Rosie, another hopelessly romantic, was on it, since both of them had been insisting that you go to find him since the moment you returned to the city.
“I’ll take my five right now.” You announced to Daisy and the kitchen staff, walking to the service door.
Behind you, Bucky called your name, but you fastened your pace; still, you felt him behind you as you opened the door and stepped into the alley.
When he stepped out with you, you turned, “What the fuck is your problem? I’m trying to work!”
Rain was pouring down, quickly dampening your uniform. The knot in your throat got harder to ignore, and you thanked the rain for covering up your upcoming tears.
“I just want you to listen to what I need to say!” He repeated.
You shook your head and attempted to walk back inside. He grabbed you by your shoulders and turned you to face him.
“Please, you don't need to talk, just listen to me!” He exclaimed, desperate.
“Fine. But once you're done, I’m back to my job.”
Bucky nodded.
“Listen, I-I want to apologize first, I’m sorry for being so rough on you that last time… I was so jealous and possessive, I understand why you would want to leave. I don't blame you.”
You huffed, tilting your head to the back so you could meet his eyes.
"Seriously, do you really think I left because you were just a little bit rougher with me?" You scoffed at his remark.
"You didn't?" He frowned.
"Barnes, we were clear with our boundaries a long time ago. What happened that night — I'm not gonna lie, it was rougher than before, but it was still under our boundaries. If I hadn't been okay with it, I would've said something."
He opened his mouth, brain buffering as he scratched his whole speech.
"Why did you leave, then?"
You turned your head, avoiding his eyes. Your uniform stuck to your skin when it got wet, making you feel colder. You crossed your arms around you, trying to keep yourself warm, noticing your actions, Bucky crowded you, making you take some steps back until your back almost touched the wall, and you were partly covered by the edge of the roof. He removed his jacket and placed it around your shoulders, even though you tried to keep him away from you.
"We should get inside, you're freezing." He muttered with concern.
"Stop, don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Act as if you care about me."
“What are you talking about? Of course I care about you!”
You huffed. “I don't have time for this.”
“Answer me at least. Why did you leave?”
“Because I can't keep doing this!” You exclaimed. “Whatever this is, it’s killing me! For months, I’ve been going from town to town, wondering if I'll see you again. And each time that we find each other, I just don't want to leave. I want to stay with you, but that was never on the table. It's fucking scary because —" you swallowed, “Because I care too much. I can't stop myself from wanting more, and then that day you called me yours… I know it was your lust talking—”
Bucky smashed his lips with yours, you gasped in his mouth, allowing him to slide his tongue inside your mouth.
“Shut up,” Bucky mumbled against your lips.
“I thought you told me to answer your question.”
“I did,” He pulled away enough to see you properly. “But not an expense of you lying.”
“I wasn't—”
“I didn't call you mine because I was blinded by lust. I called you mine because I’ve been holding the words back to the point it was getting hard to breathe. You're what I’ve been looking for. I don't need to go to another town to find happiness, because you're right here in front of me.”
"Bucky…"
"I love you.” He let the words out as easily as breathing. “I’ve been driving across the country only to find you since the moment I met you.”
“I love you, too.” You said feeling the weight in your shoulders lift.
Bucky looked at you with a bright smile and, cradling your head, he kissed you. The shift felt immediate; there was still hunger under the kiss, a need to feel you as close as possible, but there was a tenderness with it now. The devotion was more upfront; he kissed you as if you were the oxygen he needed to live, and you responded equally.
Once more, you surrendered to the force that joined you together like two magnets, the chain that for months you had been tugging at each time you parted ways relieved tension, not because it snapped, it was still there, but stronger now that you acknowledged it.
“I should go back to work.” You mumbled once you pulled away, foreheads still touching.
“Yes, we should.” He mumbled, but he kept you pinned against the wall while he left featherlight kisses all over your cheek and neck.
You were about to say something, but then you snizzed. He parted and looked at you with worry.
“Alright, we’re going back in. I don't want you to get sick.” He said sternly, pulling you by your hand when he moved, making you giggle.
Bucky opened the door, finding Billy, one of the chefs who turned out to be Rosie’s husband, waiting for you on the other side. Billy was crossing his arms, sizing up Bucky with his stare.
“There’s an extra uniform in Rosie’s office, and I'm pretty sure you can find something to dry yourself,” Billy said. “Go before you get the floor wet and cause an accident.” You nodded effusively and, still holding Bucky’s jacket around you, you followed his instructions, “That goes for you too, and make it the last time you burst into my kitchen ignoring the Personnel Only sign." He added, returning his eyes to Bucky.
“Yes, sir. My apologies.” Bucky felt heat creeping up his neck.
Before Bucky could move away, Billy leaned in and lowered his voice for his ears only. “And son? I hope you know that if you stay by her side, it's because you love her. Don't make her lose her time if not.” With that, Billy walked away.
That night, when your shift ended, Bucky was already waiting for you outside, leaning on his motorcycle. The sky had cleared a few hours later, bathing him with moonlight. Your heart might have skipped a beat the moment you saw him.
Rosie had lent you a cardigan, afraid that you might get a cold, so, as you walked towards him, you held the fuzzy fabric tightly around you.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, fighting back your smile.
“I thought you could use a ride. I noticed your car wasn't parked here.” Bucky reached his hand, and when you grabbed his, he pulled you into his arms.
“It’s with the mechanic, I had been having troubles for the last month, so I came back to the only town that I knew the local mechanic wouldn't be an asshole and screw me over only because I'm a woman.” You hugged him, sneaking your hands under his jacket to warm them.
“A friend?”
You nodded against his chest. “It’s Billy’s brother, familiar business, Billy is the owner, while his brother works there.”
“I see. How was your shift?”
“Well, someone came demanding to talk with me, we ended up talking in the rain, and now I'm just hoping that I don't end up sick.”
You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes.
“Is that so?” He asked, a wicked glint appearing in his eyes. “Was it worth it? The talk, I mean.”
“Yeah,” You mumbled, eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips, “very much so.”
“Good. I agree.” He said before kissing you, you smiled against his lips, and when you tried to pull back, he chased your lips.
“Where are you staying?” You asked once you managed to keep your lips apart for a beat.
“Nowhere.”
His reply sobered you up; you tensed in his arms. “You’re leaving?”
“No!” Bucky quickly responded. “As long as you allow me, I want to stay by your side. I did get here as a pit stop, but it was only because I wanted to leave as soon as I could to look for you.” He raised a hand and brushed your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. “And now that I find you, you'd better get used to me, because I’m not leaving.”
“Great, because I don't want you to leave.”You tightened your hold on him.
“Then we’re on the same page.”
He pressed a kiss on your forehead and hugged you, swaying you from side to side as you talked about what would come next. The future was still uncertain, but at least you had each other.
For years, you were used to fitting your life into a suitcase. No strings. No roots. Pure freedom. The world was a canvas for you to paint over, a map waiting to be discovered. And then you found Bucky.
A year passed by, and the meadow where Bucky was driving his motorcycle was in full blossom, the green grass contrasted with the colorful flowers that adorned the horizon. You had your arms wrapped around his torso. As he got uphill, he made sure you remained safely behind him. He stopped right in front of a few trees that formed a good shadow to lay the blanket you had packed that morning before leaving your hotel.
Once he was balanced on his feet, Bucky took one of your hands that was still wrapped around him and pulled it towards his lips to kiss it. The movement made the band around your ring finger sparkle under the bright sun of summer. A matching ring was hanging on a chain that was safely tucked under his shirt, close to his heart at all times.
“Do you like the view?” Bucky asked.
“Oh, yeah, I do.” You said, shifting so you could see his profile as he stared down at the town in the distance.
“I’m serious, sweetheart,” he chuckled after he found you looking at him. “If we are planning to settle down, we have to be sure that this is the place. If you don't like it, we can try anywhere else.”
You giggled, and after leaving a kiss on his shoulder, you turned and rested your cheek on his shoulder blade, looking down at the town that had watched you confess your love.
You hummed, narrowing your eyes as you contemplated the growing town. Since your last visit, you could see there were new roads and neighborhoods being built on the outskirts. “It’s a good place, they have good people. As Billy said, when his brother retires, you can stay with the workshop. He trusts you, and the customers love you.
Bucky snorted, "They love that I get their cars and bikes good as new fast."
"Yeah, always so good with your hands." He laughed. "And I can work with Rosie, and our kids will totally love having their aunties Daisy and Rosie near.”
Bucky turned fast, careful of not bumping your head while doing so. “Wait, are you—”
“Not yet.” You smiled. “I'm still on the pill, but once we have our house,” you trailed, moving your hand that was still around his torso down, dragging your nails on the fabric of his jeans. “But we can… practice.”
He groaned, “Fuck, baby, you can't say that. Our hotel is on the other side of the town.”
“When has that stopped us?” You shrugged, tilting your head, pointing out the empty meadow. “Besides,” you shifted on your seat to get closer to him, “There’s nobody close, remember? Empty road uphill, the last house we saw is more than a mile away.”
“You’re trouble.” He sighed when you shifted again and kissed his neck from behind.
“You love it.” You mumbled, playfully biting his earlobe. “That’s why you marry me.”
“Best decision I ever made.”
You kept kissing his neck, whispering in his ear like a little devil. The final straw was your hand sneaking over his bulge. Bucky cursed under his breath, and in a second, he had pulled down the side stand so the motorcycle could stay upright by itself, and he got off.
With you still sitting on it, he kissed you breathless, one arm wrapped around your waist, moving you forward on the motorcycle until you were sitting on his seat, while the other worked on unzipping your high-waist jeans.
You whimpered in his mouth when his fingers sneaked under the fabric of your panties and teased your clit.
“You’re so wet, baby. So ready for me.”
“Always.” You breathed.
His hand left you as he positioned behind you, but was quickly replaced by his other hand that was still wrapped around you.
“You know,” Bucky said as his fingers rubbed your clit. “We have been together so long, and we've never fucked on my motorcycle.”
You pulled back, confused, mind hazy with lust. You hadn't realized that the motorcycle was still on until Bucky hopped back on, and from behind, he revved the engine; the rumbling between your thighs made you moan his name.
“Don’t you think I felt you squeezing your thighs together whenever we ride together, and I do this?” He revved the engine again, longer. “I know all the sounds you made when you feel good, didn't you think I would recognize that precious sound the first time you ride with me?”
“Bucky.” You gasped as he kept switching from rubbing your clit and revving.
Your hips bucked forward, chasing the feeling.
“That's it, baby, grind on it. My perfect dirty girl.” He kissed your neck as you rolled your hips.
“Fuck.” You leaned your head back on his shoulder, each roll made you grind against his bulge and the seat. “Bucky”
Your orgasm was close; you could almost touch it, right over the edge.
And then you lost it.
Bucky had turned off the motorcycle and pulled his fingers out of your underwear.
“Bucky,” you whined. “ I was so close.”
You tried to roll your hips again, searching for some friction, but he held you in place.
“Easy, baby, I want to feel you coming around my cock, don't you want that too?” He whispered against your ear. “You said we could practice. So let's practice.” He left a kiss under your ear and got off the motorcycle. You thought he was going to pick up where he left off, but instead, he kissed you and took advantage of the way your body responded to him.
He pulled you off the motorcycle as if you were light as a feather, while you grabbed onto his jacket. Your ass rested on the seat sideways, half on and half off the bike.
“Hold on, my love.” Your hands grabbed onto the leather seat under you while he pulled your shorts and panties off, and then pulled his jeans down enough to leave his cock out. You attempted to touch him, but he stopped you, slothing himself between your thighs and keeping you open for him. “Not yet, baby. Be a good girl and stay still.”
You whimpered as you saw him stroking himself, drunk on the sight of your glistening pussy.
"You're so beautiful, have I told you that today?"
You nodded, panting, "Every day."
"My beautiful wife." He pushed in, slowly, stretching you around him and making you whine. "Mine."
"Bucky," you whimpered his name, feeling him throbbing inside you.
"God, you're pulling me in, right back home." He groaned when he was fully buried inside you. He braced his arms around your body, holding you open and steady, and then he moved, shallow thrusts that were slowly building up like a tide until you were fully adjusted to his side.
"I need —" your words were cut off by a moan when he pushed out, leaving only the tip in, and then slammed back inside.
"I know, baby, I know what you love, what makes you crumble under my touch," Bucky muttered. He lifted your leg, shifting the angle, and then he resumed his thrusts faster and harder, winding you tight.
Words died in your mouth, and only whimpers and moans could come out. He leaned over you, kissing your tits over your top and leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your neck. "So gorgeous, my perfect wife." He praised you. "I'm gonna fill you up until it sticks, baby. Everyone will know that you're mine. You'll carry our baby, a piece of our love."
Your hand slipped from the seat under you, so you grabbed onto him to steady yourself.
Your hips bucked up in a frenetic pace. "Yes, Bucky, yes." Your back arched, the edge so close…
"There she is. Come, baby, I got you." Bucky growled with his face buried in the crook of your neck. "I love you so much, I can't wait to make you a mommy."
Your orgasm crashed into you like a wave. You were still riding your orgasm when Bucky shifted you. Your back was now over the seat, ass hanging in the air, only held up by him. He pulled your other leg up and held you into a mating press.
"That's it, baby, I'm gonna fill you up." He pistoned into you until he was coming inside you, prolonging your orgasm. “Take it, sweetheart. Fuck, I’m coming.”
He remained buried inside you while your heart stopped hammering in your chest. Leaving kisses and murmuring praises on your skin while your fingers threaded into his hair.
"You okay?" Bucky asked.
"A little bit sore, the seat is digging into my back."
As soon as you said it, Bucky lifted you, making you squeal. Your legs wrapped around him as he took out the blanket with one hand. The blanket was placed clumsily over the grass, and then he lay you both over it, him half on top of you, careful not to let his whole weight over you — even if you loved it, he always was careful.
"Better?" He mumbled against your skin as he kissed wherever he could reach.
You nodded, giggling as he tickled your skin with his stubble.
"Should we also scratch sex on a blanket in the middle of nowhere out of our list?" Bucky asked after a minute.
You snorted, caressing his jaw, "You're insane."
"What? You can't tell me you didn't think about it." You rolled your eyes and then pushed him off you. He let you push him until he was on his back, and watched as you climbed over him, straddling his hips.
"Let's scratch me riding you on a blanket in the middle of nowhere." You corrected him, grinding on him until he was fully hard again.
He lay under you, looking up at you with devotion, his hands gripped your hips without overpowering your movements.
"Oh, God. Baby, we'd better start working on our house." He moaned, throwing his head back, when you guided him inside you and started rolling your hips fucking yourself. "Because at this pace—"
"It's just practice." You smirked, bracing your hands on his chest and bouncing on his dick. "But yeah, I agree." You panted as your breath started ragging even more. "We will think of our future house later, for now, just relax, and let me love you."
"Whatever you need, baby. I'm yours."
"Mine." You groaned when he started driving up. "And I'm all yours."
"Forever, Mrs. Barnes." He groaned.
You let out a half-moan, half-laugh. The title was still new, not even a week old.
"Forever, Mr. Barnes." You said, before leaning over him and kissing him.
Finally, both of you found your home, together.