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She knew exactly who he was the first time they bumped into each other when she ran toward the stairs of her apartment building, and he suddenly emerged from them, lost in thought. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and the glint of metal was pretty noticeable when he reached out to grab her elbow to prevent her from falling backward. The touch was brief, since he retired his hand promptly when he was sure she would not fall, and his blue eyes revealed something akin to regret.
----
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, tucking his hand into his jacket.
"Don't be." She offered a small smile, waving him off. "I should've been more careful. The elevator's out and I was in a hurry... We tell kids not to run on stairs for exactly this reason, and here I am—" She caught herself rambling and laughed. "Anyway. Hi. I just moved in yesterday." She extended her hand, introducing herself.
He took it, his grip firm but gentle. "James Barnes. Most people call me Bucky."
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary. Handsome, she thought, straightening her scrubs. The lines at the corners of those striking blue eyes hinted at someone who'd smiled and… survived in equal measure. She mentally kicked herself for staring. "Well, Bucky, I'm running late for work, but I'll see you around. It was nice to meet you."
He nodded, watching as she hurried down the stairs, her uniform swaying with each step. He stood there longer than he should have, replaying the soft smile on her lips.
The days after that encounter passed in a blur of awkward run-ins. Each time, she greeted him with the same soft smile, and each time, Bucky found himself lost in thoughts he hadn't allowed himself in years.
It started with polite nods, fleeting smiles. Then came the casual exchanges, small talk about the weather, their days, the occasional joke about the building's quirks. Before he realized it, those brief moments had become something he looked forward to. It felt easy to talk to her, and her laughter always seemed to come just when he needed to hear it. Sometimes he'd catch her gaze lingering on him a second too long before she looked away, and it was enough to make him wonder if maybe she felt the same pull he did.
-----
One evening, as they both stood waiting for the elevator, she quirked a brow at him. "You know, Bucky, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were following me," she teased.
He blinked, caught off guard, but the playful glint in her eyes made him relax. He let out a small chuckle. "Well… I could say the same about you."
She laughed, and once again, the sound made him feel almost normal.
His therapist had been telling him for months that he was isolated, that he needed to socialize and form connections. She'd even suggested dating, but every time he tried, it hadn't gone well. The interactions felt awkward and forced. He'd find an excuse to leave early, or worse, sometimes he didn't bother with an excuse at all—just walked out without a word.
There was something about her that set her apart. Mostly, it was the ease with which their conversations flowed. He wasn't the type to talk much, often keeping things short and to the point, but she had this way of making the silence between them feel comfortable, never pushing him to share more than he wanted. He didn't have to try so hard to keep up appearances.
But the attraction wasn't just about comfort. No, he wanted her.
He caught himself watching her more often than he cared to admit. She was exactly his type. And he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to touch her, to trace his hands over her body, to feel her warmth beneath his fingertips.
But every time he got close to asking her out, fear crept in, locking the words in his throat. Fear of rejection. Of being too damaged. Of her seeing the parts of him he was ashamed of. And so he always stopped himself.
Tonight felt different, though. There was something in her playful approach that made the fear feel less suffocating. The elevator doors opened, and as they stepped inside, Bucky turned to her, his heart hammering in his chest. He could barely believe he was about to do this.
"Can I ask you something?" he murmured.
She glanced at him. "Yeah?"
He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him, and almost panicked. This wasn't something he was used to. He could fight gruesome battles, survive impossible odds, flip a fucking armored truck with a tug of his arm… but asking someone out? That felt like a whole different battlefield. It was terrifying in a way those other things weren't.
For a moment, he almost backpedaled. His mind scrambled, desperately searching for something else to say, some way to deflect and change the subject. But nothing came. He was stuck. He'd already opened his mouth, and there was no way to retreat now without looking like a fool.
So he took a deep breath and jumped.
"Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?" The words came out gruff. For a second, doubt crept in, making him wonder if he'd just made a mistake.
But her eyes widened in surprise before lighting up, and the smile that spread across her face eased the knot in his stomach.
"Oh, I'd love to! It'd be fun to do something outside the building for a change. We run into each other so much that I've actually thought about asking you to hang out, but you always seemed rushed, like you couldn't wait to leave... I'm glad that's not the case." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. "You know, we can be neighbors and friends. There's nothing in the building rules against it."
Bucky blinked, his heart sinking at the word friends. He forced one of the practiced, uncomfortable smiles his therapist had suggested. Friendzoned -a term he'd only recently discovered- wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but he hadn't spelled it out, either.
Of course she thought he was just trying to be friendly. He hadn't given her a fucking hint of his real intentions. Hadn't flirted, hadn't made even the slightest move to charm her.
The old him would've had no trouble conveying his interest. He would've been smooth and confident, knowing exactly how to make his intentions clear. But he wasn't that guy anymore. He hadn't done this in decades, and the rules seemed to have changed in ways he didn't fully understand. Hell, he had changed. He sighed.
"Um-" he started, hesitant. "Just to be clear…" He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to hers. "I meant it as a date. Not just neighbors or friends grabbing a bite."
For a moment, she didn't respond, still processing his words. And then something clicked. Heat crept up her neck as her smile turned thoughtful. He wasn't asking because they lived in the same building or because they ran into each other so often. He wanted to spend time with her because he was interested.
"Oh. Sorry, I didn't realize… I mean…" She stumbled over her words. "I didn't know you meant it like that." She'd had her fair share of men in her life, but being honest with herself, in a million years, she wouldn't have guessed someone like him would be asking her out.
Not Bucky, the quiet, handsome, brooding neighbor with the sharp jawline and the weight of a thousand untold stories in his eyes. For months, she'd brushed off the little moments between them as neighborly interactions, nothing more. It had been easier that way. Safer, maybe. But now, standing here, the truth of his intentions was undeniable.
Her smile softened. "Well, I'm glad you clarified," she finally said. "And yeah, Bucky. I'd like that. A lot."
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if he'd been holding his breath and had just now allowed himself to exhale. A faint smile crept onto his lips, one that actually reached his eyes, softening the hardened edges he usually carried.
"Great," he murmured. "I'll, uh, figure something out."
They shared one last look before the elevator doors opened, and as they stepped out, his heart was still racing. But this time, it wasn't from fear.
----
The first date had been simple. He brought her flowers, a small, hesitant gesture that made her eyes light up. They went to a bistro and talked about life, interests, the kind of things you only share when you feel a certain sense of safety with someone. Bucky never said more than necessary, but she learned to read the way his eyes softened when he listened, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when she said something that caught him off guard. It was as easy and comfortable as their previous interactions, and yet, in the back of his mind, there was always the whisper: do you even deserve this?
The second date was at the small café on the corner of their building. There had been more laughter this time, and the conversation flowed even more easily. As they sat across from each other, their knees brushed under the table. It was subtle, almost unintentional. When it happened again, neither of them moved away.
They walked back in comfortable silence. When they reached her door, she turned to face him, and for a moment the space between them felt heavier, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.
His hand hovered just near her lower back, not quite touching, but close enough that she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric of her dress. For a brief second, she thought he might pull her closer, break that last sliver of space between them, but he didn't. His hand lingered for just a moment longer before falling away.
Bucky's gaze dropped briefly to her lips, and his brows furrowed slightly before he looked away, almost as if chastising himself. His old-fashioned upbringing, perhaps, held him back, kept him from making the move she half-expected…the one she wanted.
"Goodnight," he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. His tired eyes lingered on hers just a little too long, as if he were still debating, still fighting the pull to act on the desire he was clearly feeling.
She nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest and to respect his boundaries, even though her hands itched to reach for him, to pull him closer and start what he wouldn't. "Goodnight, Bucky," she replied softly, her own voice betraying the emotions swirling beneath the surface.
They stood there for a heartbeat longer, the short distance between their doors now feeling like miles. He gave her a small, almost hesitant smile, then turned toward his apartment, and the silence between them somehow felt louder now.
By the time the third date approached, Bucky's nerves were starting to get the better of him. He didn't want to ruin this. The cocky Sergeant Barnes -the man who hadn't yet turned into a walking nightmare- would've laughed at him. That version of himself had been bold, self-assured, the type of man who could sweep a woman off her feet without a second thought. He would've taken the lead with ease, knowing exactly how to handle the situation. But that man was long gone, buried beneath the weight of all he had done, all he had become.
Before leaving for the date, he poured himself an imperial pint of Asgardian ale. Just enough to give him a buzz, to take the edge off. Standing there, glass in hand, he caught his reflection in the window and sighed. Could she see it? The darkness, the scars left behind from being Hydra's puppet? And even if she didn't... how long until she did?
You don't deserve this, the voice whispered again, unrelenting.
------
That night, after dinner, they found themselves in her living room, two untouched coffee cups growing cold on the table beside them. The dim light softened the space around them, creating an intimate cocoon that made their conversation flow effortlessly. Yet beneath the easy chatter, Bucky's doubts lingered. He couldn't shake the feeling that any move forward could shatter the delicate balance between them.
He'd been raised with a sense of propriety, a rhythm to follow when it came to courting. There was a dance to it, an unspoken set of rules about when to advance and when to hold back. The trouble now was figuring out how much to let himself move forward, how far to let this go before the weight of his past dragged him under again.
As their conversation naturally ebbed into silence, he noticed her gaze flicker to his lips, lingering just a bit longer than usual. His pulse quickened. She was giving him a sign, even if she hadn't meant to. For a brief moment he hesitated, but the look in her eyes and the ale still running through his system urged him forward.
He leaned in slightly, and their knees brushed. The warmth of her body drew him closer. His hand hovered near her arm, and she responded by getting closer, parting her lips ever so slightly as if inviting him in without saying a word.
Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between them, his heart pounding in his chest. The kiss was meant to be soft and chaste, but all restraint flew out the window the second their lips touched.
His hand slipped to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and the kiss grew hungrier, more urgent, as if months of longing were unraveling in that single moment. With a gentle, almost teasing flick of his tongue against her lower lip, he urged her to open for him. She complied, parting her lips and allowing him in, and things turned molten. His tongue slid against hers, and the heat spiraled when she let out a quiet, breathless moan. The sound sent a jolt of desire straight to his groin, pushing him further.
His metal hand remained firm on her back, pulling her as close as possible, while the other slipped into her hair. She responded eagerly, gliding her fingers up his chest and tangling them in his now messy hair, tugging him closer as if she couldn't get enough. The kiss was all-consuming, urgent, and messy, months of tension finally breaking free.
Eventually, they slowly pulled apart, their heavy breaths mingling in the charged air between them. His gaze dropped to her lips, now swollen and flushed, and he felt the undeniable pull to dive back in.
Then he noticed it.
His vibranium hand had slid down to her waist and was gripping harder than he intended. Much harder. He swallowed and looked at it, realizing what he'd done. His hand, still gripping tightly, could have harmed her. He sighed, frustration and self-reproach tugging at him, unable to find a balance between his longing and his fear of hurting her.
She caught the sigh, and her eyes followed his downward gaze until they landed on his hand, still gripping her waist. And then it clicked. She understood. It wasn't just the pressure of his hand—it was everything behind it. The strength he was constantly aware of, the control he had to maintain, the fear of hurting someone he cared about without meaning to. It wasn't just about this moment. It was about everything he carried with him.
Instead of pulling away, she did the opposite. She shifted slightly, pressing closer into his hand, reassuring him. With that small gesture, she was telling him she trusted him. She wasn't fragile, and she wasn't going to break. He didn't need to hold back with her.
He exhaled softly, and a question escaped his lips, one that had been lingering in his mind for far too long. "Have you ever thought about how things would have been if we'd met under different circumstances?"
Her brow furrowed slightly. "Different how?" she asked, leaning in a little, searching his eyes.
Bucky took a breath, his gaze drifting as if he were caught somewhere between the past and the present. "I mean… if I hadn't been…" He trailed off for a second, a shadow crossing his expression. "If I didn't become what I am." His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as though speaking the words out loud might break something fragile between them.
She stayed quiet, giving him the space he needed, her hand resting gently on his arm, a subtle reassurance.
"I think about it sometimes," he admitted, his eyes distant, fixed on a point somewhere beyond her. "If we'd met before all the... before everything." His lips pressed into a thin line, guilt flickering behind his blue eyes. "Maybe in another time, I could've been just a guy. Someone who didn't have…" He paused, still pressing his vibranium hand against her back. "Someone who wouldn't have been so messed up. Someone normal and approachable."
Her heart clenched at the weight of his words. "Bucky—" she started, but he shook his head slightly, as if to wave off her sympathy.
"I don't know," he continued. "Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve…" He cut himself off, jaw clenching.
Without hesitation, she entwined their fingers, squeezing gently. "You do deserve this," she said firmly, meeting his gaze. She wasn't going to let him retreat into the dark place where his self-deprecation lived. "You deserve to be happy, Buck. You're a good man." She sighed and shifted beside him, resting her head against the couch as she considered his previous words. Then an idea popped up.
"Let's see… if I had been born before 1920, I'd probably still be a nurse." Her lips curved into a small smile as she looked at him sideways, eyes gleaming in the dim light. She watched his reaction closely, her heart thumping a little faster as she waited. "I'd have enlisted to work in a field hospital. And… who knows, maybe we could have met when you were serving." She let the thought linger in the air, light and playful, hoping it would lift the mood.
Bucky's brows lifted slightly, and then he tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He shifted closer to her without even realizing it, his hand still resting lightly on her waist. "You would've been responsible for making sure I was fit for duty," he mused, his tone a little lighter now, as if the idea of an alternate history didn't seem so bad. "Keeping an eye on me, seeing my injuries, maybe even patching me up yourself." He added with a playful edge, allowing himself to sink into the scenario.
She grinned, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she imagined the scene. "Oh, from what I've heard about you, I doubt you would've visited the hospital very often, Sarge," she teased, nudging his knee with hers playfully.
Bucky chuckled, his thumb beginning to trace slow, soothing circles on her back, a gesture she was growing fond of. "Probably not," he agreed, leaning in slightly. "But I would've noticed you from afar. Even if I had no reason to be there, you would've stood out."
"Oh? Why's that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as her fingers absentmindedly brushed the back of his hand, a smile playing on her lips as she waited for his answer.
Bucky glanced down at their intertwined hands, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against her softer ones. He looked back up at her. "Because you're beautiful," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She blinked, caught off guard. "Beautiful, me? Pfft!" She laughed softly, a playful spark in her eyes. "But... now that I think about it, pin-up girls were a thing when you were serving, weren't they?"
Bucky leaned back into the couch, pulling her with him, wrapping his arm firmer around her waist with a slow grin. "Yeah, well, nurses were definitely included in the 'interesting' category too," he teased. His eyes flicked down, tracing the curves of her body as his hand tightened slightly around her waist, making her feel self-conscious. "Especially ones with curves like yours."
She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head, but before she could say anything, Bucky continued, his voice lower now, more serious. "You'd have been popular among the guys in camp, you know. They'd have been lining up, falling over themselves to get your attention." He paused, flicking his gaze back to hers. "But trust me, I would've noticed you first. And I wouldn't have let anyone else have a shot."
Her cheeks heated as she tucked her legs beneath her, giving him a playful nudge. "Oh, so you would've asked me out?" she teased.
Bucky turned slightly toward her, sliding his hand slowly down her arm, brushing her skin in soft, teasing strokes. "Oh, I wouldn't have just asked," he said with a smirk. "I'd have made sure you had no reason to say no."
She felt her heart quicken at the subtle heat in his voice, the playful edge giving way to something more intense. Her breath hitched slightly, and she bit her lip as she gazed up at him. "Is that so?" she murmured. "And how would you have done that?" She leaned in a little, brushing her shoulder against his, closing the small space between them. "How was the game back then? Bought flowers? Invited me to dance?"
"Both, probably," he murmured, resting his hand on her thigh, grazing the fabric of her dress with his thumb in slow, deliberate motions. "Flowers, because they're classic... and dancing, because it's intimate."
"Well," she whispered, leaning her head toward him, lips just inches from his ear, "I guess I would've let you court me, Sarge. Tell me about a date with you."
Bucky's hand tightened slightly on her thigh, just enough to make her heart race. His stubbled cheek brushed against hers as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Saturday night," he whispered, barely grazing his lips on the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Dinner at the Officers' Club, followed by a slow dance... and then back to my quarters for a proper goodnight kiss."
Her breath hitched, and her pulse quickened as the warmth of his breath and the weight of his words settled in her brain. She could feel the tension thickening in the air, and then, with an almost trembling voice, she teased, "Only a kiss?"
Bucky smirked against her skin, hovering his lips near her ear. "Maybe more than just a kiss," he rasped, low and full of promise. "But only if you wanted it too."
She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Hmm, I dunno, Sergeant Barnes... things were done more properly back then, right? No sex before marriage and all that stuff?"
He let out a low chuckle, already inching his hand higher up her thigh. "You're absolutely right," he agreed, with a teasing edge. "I would've waited until our wedding night…" His hand slid beneath the fabric of her dress, fingers grazing the soft skin of her thigh. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have thought about it. Every. Single. Day." He leaned in again and whispered, "How you'd look... how you'd feel... imagining all the ways I'd finally get to touch you." His breath was warm against her skin, the words heavy with tension.
"Is that so?" she murmured, sliding her fingers up his chest, gripping his collar just enough to keep him close. "You think you could've waited?"
His hand tightened on her thigh. "I would've tried... but I don't think you would've made it easy." Bucky's playful tone faded into something more serious, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "Would you have let me… let me have you like that?"
She swallowed, gripping his shirt tighter as she looked up into his eyes, feeling the pull toward him in a way that left her defenseless. "I-" Her voice faltered, but she managed to find her words. "Yeah, Bucky... I would've."
Bucky's vibranium hand, firm but tender, climbed from her waist, tracing a slow, deliberate path up her spine. He then reached for the little buttons at the neckline of her dress, careful and bold as he unfastened them one by one. Each undone button revealed more of her skin to his darkened gaze, and the way he looked at her made her feel exposed in a way that went beyond the physical. "I would've taken care of you," he murmured, brushing his lips on her collarbone. "Made sure no one else got close to you."
Her body leaned instinctively toward him, craving the closeness as her free hand ran up his arm, tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. "No one else would've mattered," she whispered.
With a swift, deliberate motion, the hand on her neckline slid down and snaked behind her, grasping her ass and pulling her fully into his lap. She gasped as her hips pressed against his, feeling exactly how much he wanted her. "Every night," he growled with need, "I would've made sure you were mine." His eyes were ablaze with raw desire as he tightened his grip, holding her firmly against his groin.
Her pulse raced, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. His mouth crashed into hers in a deep kiss. His other hand slid higher up her thigh, teasing the edge of her panties, brushing the soft skin. A soft moan escaped her lips, muffled by the kiss, and when he broke it, his lips found the curve of her neck.
"So only one kiss, huh?" she chuckled breathlessly, her voice trembling with anticipation as her hips instinctively rocked against his.
Bucky inhaled deeply against her skin, trailing hot kisses toward her breasts. "Well, I would've kissed you every chance I got, but believe me, that wouldn't have been enough..." His words were thick with promise, his breath hot against her skin. He pressed his hard length firmer against her, his hand tracing her slick heat over her underwear with his fingers now. The breathless gasp that escaped her lips was all the encouragement he needed. "…that wouldn't have been fucking enough," he whispered against her skin, his voice low and filled with hunger, as his fingers moved with purpose, leaving no doubt about what he wanted.
She bit her lip, her voice soft but laced with playful intent as she fed into the fantasy they were weaving. "Well, if we had ourselves a little house with a white fence, I'd have waited for you to come home every day in a frilly apron." She locked her eyes onto his, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she added, "With nothing underneath."
The image she painted made Bucky's breath hitch, and his grip tightened around her ass. His eyes nearly rolled back, his imagination spiraling into wild possibilities. "Damn." His voice was laced with lust. "If I could've had you waiting for me like that," he murmured, gripping her tighter, fingers digging into her skin as his restraint began to falter, "I'd have come home early every damn day just to take advantage of you." His lips brushed the swell of her breasts, and the heat between them spiraled as his imagination ran wild, pulling her impossibly closer while teasing over her soaked panties.
Her gaze flicked from his lips back to his darkened eyes. "Oh yeah?" she challenged in a sultry whisper. "Right there on the kitchen table?"
Bucky's smirk deepened, and the raw desire in his eyes nearly swallowed her whole. "Hell yes, right there on the kitchen table," he growled, his vibranium hand gripping her ass harder, possessively. "I'd bend you over it, flip up that little apron, and bury myself inside you until you screamed my name for the whole damn neighborhood to hear." He confessed without a hint of shame or remorse.
Her body reacted instantly, pressing her hips hard against the teasing hand hovering over her clothed pussy. A soft, almost desperate whimper escaped her lips. His hand answered her need by slipping her panties aside, slowly sinking his fingers inside her, stretching her with deliberate, agonizing precision.
She let out a shaky breath, her playful tone faltering as her body betrayed her. "How kinky," she managed to tease, biting her lip as she met his gaze.
Bucky inhaled sharply, savoring the way she responded to him, moving his hand with more purpose now. "Kinky enough to have you flustered for days," he growled, grazing his teeth up to her jawline before dragging his lips slowly to brush against hers. His fingers kept sliding deeper inside her with slow, deliberate strokes. "And when the milkman came the next morning…" The hand on her ass squeezed the supple skin harder, pulling her even closer against him, while the other continued its relentless torment between her legs. "...you'd be so sore from the night before, you wouldn't even be able to stand straight. Couldn't look anyone in the eye without thinking about just how loud you screamed."
She moaned at his statement, totally immersed in the fantasy. "Fuck, that sounds… so good, Buck," she managed to say, her voice trembling with want. She bit her lip again, locking eyes with him and starting to grind herself shamelessly against his fingers as the pressure built quickly inside her. "But... would you only fuck me at the kitchen table when coming back? What about… other creative places? Like the back porch, under the shade of the bindweed?"
Bucky's eyes closed as her suggestion sparked a flood of heated thoughts. "Absolutely," he growled. He pushed his fingers knuckle-deep inside her, while his thumb circled her swollen clit, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. "I'd lift that sexy little apron right up, spread your legs wide open, and fuck you right there under the bindweeds," he murmured, brushing her ear, each word laced with dark promise. "And you'd moan my name, scream it, while everyone else thinks we're just having a quiet afternoon tea."
The combination of his filthy words and the relentless pressure of his fingers sent her body trembling with anticipation, and her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. "Bucky…" she moaned softly, tightening her grip on him, desperate for everything he was giving her. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against his hand, and her breath hitched as his fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot that sent waves of pleasure radiating through her body. The pleasure kept building inside her, tightening and coiling until every nerve in her body felt alive.
He felt the signals and growled, moving faster now, each stroke deliberate and calculated as his forehead pressed against hers. "I'd make sure no one could ever touch you the way I did," he muttered, his voice low and possessive. "Every inch of you, mine." He punctuated the last words with hard, rhythmic pressure against her clit, and that was all she needed for the climax to hit her, a wave of intense pleasure crashing through her entire body. Her moans turned into soft cries as she buried her face in his neck, trembling violently as his hand continued to work her through it, prolonging her ecstasy.
When her body came down from her high, Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers. Panting, she looked at him and saw the raw desire burning in his blue eyes. Without hesitation, she leaned in, finding his stubbled jaw with her lips, trailing soft, hungry kisses down his neck, nipping and sucking against his skin while her hand wandered lower and lower on his abdomen, finally unbuttoning his pants with deliberate slowness, venturing inside his underwear.
The moment her fingers brushed against his cock, he tensed and groaned. "Wait," he rasped, his voice thick with need and restraint. His hand held hers firmly, keeping her from going further.
Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, her lips still hovering near his neck. "Why?" she murmured. "I want to make you feel good too. You deserve it, Bucky," she whispered, her words full of tenderness and desire.
Bucky let out a low, shaky breath with a hint of frustration. He knew he had to come clean. "I want it too, trust me," he muttered, voice strained. "But it's been so long... too long. If you touch me now…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. "Let me lead," he whispered. He leaned in to kiss her, deep and slow, pouring all his pent-up desire into the kiss.
She sighed softly, pulling back just enough to reach for the hem of her dress, slipping it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric lifted away from her body, leaving her sitting in only her bra and panties as the dress was tossed to the side of the couch.
Bucky's gaze darkened as he took her in, and his hands instinctively roamed over her bare skin. But then he groaned again, almost painfully, pausing as his grip tightened around her waist. "What happened to letting me lead?" he rasped, restraint fraying.
She parted her lips to respond with a half-hearted apology, but before she could, his hands were already sliding down her body, reclaiming control. His fingers traced her bra straps, slipping them off her shoulders with excruciating slowness. "I need to do it my way," he murmured in a low growl as he leaned in, brushing her ear with his lips. "If you don't behave... this ends before we even begin."
The meaning of his earlier words hit her then. He wasn't just leading to take his time with her; he was fighting to keep from losing control, from coming right there in his pants. Her teasing grin faltered, replaced with a softer expression. "Oh," she whispered with understanding. "Sorry, I didn't realize…" Her fingers gently grazed his cheek. "I didn't mean to push you." And then he saw the guilt on her face.
Bucky tensed slightly, inwardly cursing himself for letting his vulnerability slip. His masculine pride stung. Great job. Way to kill the mood.
He forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers in an attempt to brush off the tension. "It's alright," he muttered, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. His fingers dug into her hips just a little. "I just... got worked up faster than I expected." He exhaled shakily, trying to ease the tension. Then he started to move.
As his fingers worked at the clasp of her bra, slow and deliberate, he broke the silence with a low murmur thick with desire. "You know… I liked you from the moment we bumped into each other on the stairs," he confessed, meeting her gaze. "I still remember the way you looked at me, even after I knocked you off balance and grabbed your arm. No gloves, metal hand out in the open… but you didn't flinch."
When her bra fell away, his gaze dropped to her exposed breasts, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. His flesh hand cupped her gently, brushing his thumb over her nipple in a slow, teasing motion.
"I loved how your uniform looked on you then," he continued, his tone growing huskier as his vibranium hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer. "I still do. Every time I see you in it, it makes it hard to focus on anything else."
His thumb continued its slow teasing, but then his expression shifted, and a flicker of doubt crossed his face. His voice dropped, a hint of regret slipping into his words. "I wish I'd asked you out sooner. The old me… he would've handled this better. Would've known exactly how to-"
"Stop." She cut him off before he could finish, threading her fingers through his hair as she pulled him closer. "The moment of 'what if' has already passed. I don't want the man you used to be, Bucky." Her lips brushed against his jaw. "I want you. Not someone I never knew."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, fixing his gaze on hers. She wasn't looking for the version of him with the effortless charm and swagger. She never did. She wanted him. Baggage, scars, and everything else.
A slow, shaky breath escaped his lips. "You don't know how much that means," he muttered, brushing his lips against her jaw, then down to her neck. His movements were soft at first, but as her nails scraped softly at his scalp, urging him on, the hesitation melted away.
His mouth found hers again, kissing her hard, moving his hands with more confidence. "I've wanted this... you," he rasped, his breath hot against her skin. "For so damn long." She responded with a moan, arching into him as he took full control.
He groaned, unable to hold back any longer. He gently shifted her off his lap, laying her down on the couch, leaving his hands on her hips for a moment before he stood. His breathing was heavy, and though his chest tightened with familiar insecurities -especially about his arm- he pushed forward.
His fingers moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. As the fabric fell to the floor, his eyes darted to her face, half-expecting some flicker of hesitation or doubt. Instead, her gaze roamed over him, dark with desire as her eyes took in the hard lines of his chest. "Damn... you're perfect." Her voice came out breathy and soft.
Swallowing hard, Bucky quickly slid his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, kicking them aside. Now fully bare before her, he stood there, chest rising and falling as her gaze lingered on him.
He could see her eyes focus on his size for a brief moment, her lips parting as she let out a soft, breathless sound. The way she looked at him -no hesitation, only hunger- made his insecurities, the doubts about his scars, his arm, everything, retreat to a far corner of his mind.
Without a word, he climbed on top of her, positioning himself between her legs. His hands trailed down her sides, gripping her hips firmly as he pulled her closer. Slowly, he guided his cock to her slick pussy, teasing her as he coated his shaft with her wetness. A low, rumbling groan escaped his lips as he playfully rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit.
She reacted instantly, writhing beneath him. "Bucky…" she moaned softly, tilting her hips toward him, aching for more.
He moved slowly, sliding inside her inch by inch, pausing as soon as he was fully sheathed, giving her a moment to adjust. Her body clenched tightly around him, and a gasp escaped her lips, her nails digging into his shoulders as he waited. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts—the feeling of his cock filling her was completely overwhelming.
He pulled back slightly, then pushed forward again, slowly and deliberately, testing her response. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut as she struggled to find her breath, her thighs trembling around his hips with each thrust.
"Fuck, Bucky," she managed to whisper breathlessly, her voice barely audible but heavy with surprise and awe. "You're big. I've never— oh, God!"
Her words sparked something deep within him, the mixture of pleasure-pain igniting a fire he could barely contain. A low groan rumbled in his throat as his control began to slip. The thought that she'd never felt anything like this before -that he was the one making her feel this way- sent a surge of possessive pride through him. After so long, after everything, this was his. She was his. And he couldn't hold back anymore.
His hands moved to the back of her thighs, gripping them firmly just beneath her knees. Then, in one swift motion, he lifted her legs, spreading her wider as he started to thrust deeper, hitting spots that made her eyes fly open, a strangled moan escaping her lips. "Bucky… oh my God," she gasped again, her voice trembling as she struggled to take all of him.
Encouraged by her reaction, he picked up the pace, thrusts growing harder and faster, losing himself in the haze of lust that overtook him. He pulled her thighs higher, spreading her wider, driving into her with relentless force. Each thrust was deeper and rougher, and her moans quickly turned into desperate, breathless cries of pleasure.
The sound of her moans, the way she cried out his name, only fueled him further. "You like that?" he groaned, his voice low and ragged as he thrust into her again, deeper, harder. Her slick heat gripped him tighter and pulled him deeper with every movement, making his pulse race. "Look at me, doll. You like it rough?"
Her body arched beneath him, her hands scrambling for something to hold onto as the force of his thrusts tore through her body. "Yes! Bucky… fuck! Don't stop," she moaned, her voice breaking as he kept his relentless, punishing pace.
"Oh, I won't stop," he muttered, pulling out of her with a slick sound, only to flip her over onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips roughly, pulling her ass up and positioning her on all fours before she had time to catch her breath.
Before she could process the shift, Bucky slammed back into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her fingers clutching at the couch cushions as he drove into her from behind with an unrelenting pace. "Is this what you wanted, hm?" he rasped, his flesh hand sliding up her back before grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back slightly as he rammed into her, thrusting deep and hard.
She let out a scream of pleasure as he pounded into her. "Yes! Oh God, yes," she cried, her body helpless under his rough control.
Bucky grunted with each powerful thrust, tightening his grip on her hair, digging his metal fingers into her hip, guiding her back onto him. The angle allowed him to go even deeper, kissing her cervix with every heavy push of his hips. Her broken moans only spurred him on, and he kept the rhythm of their bodies frantic and primal, skin slapping against skin in a lewd symphony.
He released her hair and grabbed both her hips, yanking her back onto his cock with force, losing himself in the haze of lust. "Come for me, sugar. One more time," he murmured, his hand coming down on her ass with a sharp smack, making her gasp.
Before she could recover, his fingers slid between her legs, finding her clit. He circled it with firm, deliberate pressure as he leaned over her, still thrusting deep. "I want you to come all over me, doll." The moment his fingers touched her, her body responded, hips bucking involuntarily as her breath hitched. The pressure building inside her hit its peak, and with a loud, desperate moan, she shattered beneath him, trembling violently as she came.
The tight, pulsing grip of her body sent Bucky over the edge. "Fuck," he ground out, his muscles locking when the pleasure slammed into him, sharp and all-consuming. He buried himself deep with a final, shuddering thrust, thick warmth spilling inside her as his body tensed and jerked, caught in the force of his orgasm. A ragged gasp left his lips as he pressed his forehead to her back, riding out the aftershocks while the last tremors of pleasure rippled through their bodies.
The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, their bodies still trembling, slick with sweat as they tried to come down from the high. Bucky stayed inside her a moment longer, moving his fingers in slow, lazy circles over her clit, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure as her body pulsed beneath him.
But as the haze of bliss began to fade, his mind caught up with his body, and a flicker of doubt crept in. Had he been… too much?
Slowly, he withdrew, and the sudden cool air contrasted with the heat their bodies had shared. His hand slid up to her shoulder, gently, almost hesitantly. "Are you okay?" His voice was low, uncertain.
She turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek into the cushion as her hooded eyes found his. "Better than okay," she murmured. "That was... perfect, Buck."
He exhaled, feeling the tension in his body ease a little, but as always, his mind refused to quiet. What if she was just trying to play it cool after being on the receiving end of nearly eighty years of pent-up frustration?
Sensing his unease, she shifted carefully, kneeling on the couch as she turned to face him. Her hands cradled his face, gently brushing her thumbs against his skin. He looked almost miserable for someone who had, minutes ago, been nothing short of a god of intercourse.
"You didn't hurt me, Bucky," she said. "I meant it when I said it was perfect. Stop overthinking. It was the best I've ever had." Her cheeks heated as she realized the weight of her words, but she didn't back down. "I mean it," she added, her gaze dropping for a moment.
The tension in his body slowly began to melt away as he absorbed her words. His breathing steadied, and the storm of doubts in his mind started to quiet. He looked down, feeling a pang of guilt for letting his insecurities creep in at precisely that moment. Running a hand through his messy hair, he shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to ruin… I just- I get in my head sometimes."
She gave him a gentle smile, brushing her fingers along his scruffy cheek again. "You didn't ruin anything, Bucky. Not even close. If anything, the only thing you'll have to atone for is setting the bar pretty high." She winked.
Bucky's lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, and he exhaled deeply, feeling the weight on his chest finally lift. Without saying anything else, he reached up, gently cupping her cheek, brushing softly over her skin in a silent gesture of gratitude.
They stayed like that for a while, comforted by each other's caresses. The silence between them wasn't empty; it was full of understanding, unspoken promises, and the certainty that, somehow, they were exactly where they were meant to be.