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khimili · 2 years

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let’s play pretend

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: You’re supposed to attend your sister’s wedding, but when you learn your ex-boyfriend is coming with his newly found girlfriend, you come up with a lie. Yes, you’re in a relationship, and yes, you’ll bring someone to the wedding. Since your sister already knows about your best friend Steve, you decide to set your sights on his taciturn friend, the infamous Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes. What’s the worst that could happen? Word count: 10.4k Warnings: fake dating, soft!bucky, sociallyawkward!bucky, fluff, fluff, and some more fluff, flirting, accidental cuddling, morning wood, sexual tension, a bit of angst, smut (dirty thoughts, masturbation, a bit of dirty talk, oral sex, unprotected penetration), fluff Author's note: Yeah, I know. Fake dating trope is already an overused trope. Buuuut… I don’t care! I’m weak and I’m a sucker for clichés. Fake dating, mutual pining, only one bed, … Should I say more? Nothing new here, but I hope you’ll like it anyway.

“Don’t be nervous,” you mumbled under your breath. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m not nervous,” Bucky answered through gritted teeth.

“I was talking to myself!”

That had to rate as one of your worst ideas ever. Using Bucky as a fake date, knowing that you were already so desperately infatuated with him, was just plain idiotic. You should have asked Sam. Shit, even Bruce would have made a more suitable solution. You were going to be a nervous wreck all weekend, and judging by the look on Bucky’s face, so was he. He had been nothing but kind to you since you had met him, and you were starting to feel guilty because you were clearly leading him into a trap. When your sister came into view, you instantly grabbed his vibranium hand.

“Y/N, it’s good to see you!” your sister exclaimed before turning her attention to the man next to you. “And look what the cat dragged in!”

“Nice to meet you ma’am,” he said, offering his flesh hand. “I’m Buck– James. James Barnes.”

“Don’t ma’am me, I’m not that old,” your sister growled, faking annoyance but shaking his hand anyway. “And I know who you are, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Be nice,” you warned, lacing your fingers with his in a protective way.

“I’m always nice,” she retorted, squinting. “But I’m curious, though. I guess you met through Steve, right? How long you guys have been together?”

Fuck. You hadn’t even thought of a proper story to come up with. You had to be the shittiest liar in the entire history. You couldn’t hesitate for too long, because it would look suspicious. And you were pretty sure Bucky would not risk answering.

“Three months,” Bucky said.

“Five months,” you said at the exact same time.

Damn it!

“Wait a minute,” you sister exclaimed, narrowing her eyes. “You guys are dating, right?”

“Yes,” Bucky said.

“Well,” you said at the exact same time.

“Jesus, Y/N! Are you for real? Is it because of Dan?” she nearly shouted before realizing there were people around you and lowering her voice. “How could you bring a stranger at my wedding?”

“Hey, he is no stranger to me,” you answered, squeezing Bucky’s hand a bit harder. “He’s a very close friend of mine, so be nice.”

“At least a four-hour drive to get here and you can’t even get your story straight? You’re both as bad as each other, I can’t believe it,” your sister laughed, dumbfounded. “Don’t worry, I won’t spill the bean. But you better be a little more convincing.”

“We will, don’t worry,” Bucky answered as he placed his vibranium arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, leaning down to give you a quick and clumsy peck on the lips.

“Yeah, sure, I could almost believe it,” she sassed, giving you a knowing look. “Anyway. Here are the keys of your room. Down the hall, the last door at the end. You should put yours bags down. And practice kissing, because this one sucked. We’re expecting you at 8:00 for dinner, don’t be late. And suit up!”

She gave the both of you one last menacing look and walked away. You remained silent for a little while, still processing what had just happened.

“Well,” you sighed. “It could have been worse.”

“Sure,” Bucky answered, finally removing his arm from your waist. “We managed to remain credible for, what? A solid 5 minutes? I bet we can make it to 10.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I'm sorry I kissed you by the way,” he said, blushing. “It was instinctive, I didn't think. Should have asked you first.”

“It's okay, James.”

Being a gentleman, Bucky had carried your suitcase to the room you were going to shared. Being a gentleman, he had offered to let you have the bed and sleep on the floor. Being a gentleman, he had left the room so you could get in your dress. You had felt a bit disappointed, though you would have never admitted it out loud. Not that you had planned to try and seduce him during the weekend, but some cuddles and a little bit of flirting wouldn’t hurt, right? The situation was complicated but you could at least try and have some fun.

The dinner was going smoothly, mostly uneventful. You were sitting far enough from your ex-boyfriend to avoid hearing his conversations, but close enough to watch him acting like a lovesick puppy with his gorgeous new girlfriend. She seemed nice, to be honest. The kind of girl you could easily be friend with if things were different. They seemed genuinely happy together, and you felt pathetic. Bringing a fake date to your sister’s wedding had been a childish move. You didn’t even want to make Dan jealous in the first place, you just needed to feel a little less lonely for a brief moment.

Bucky’s hand landed gently on yours, stroking your smooth skin with his thumb. He must have felt your change of mood. He really was the most genuine and kindest person you knew. He took care of people around him, in a way only him could. Because he had dug himself out of the dark and he had chosen to soften when circumstances had tried to harden him. Because he had seen firsthand why compassion and goodness were so necessary. He took care of people, when in reality it was him who needed it the most. That’s probably why he was trying to cheer you up.

He picked up a small piece of cake and brought his hand to your mouth, mimicking another couple’s move. You accidentally leaned too far forward. Your lips closed around the cake… and Bucky’s fingers. You saw his eyes fly open in shock. Well, shit, you thought. The damage was done. May as well lean into it, consequences be damned. It was not like this situation could get any worse than it already was. Slowly, you ran your tongue along the underside of his fingers as you took the cake into your mouth. You watched as Bucky’s neck flushed. You swallowed and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“N– No problem,” he stuttered as if he had been thrown completely off-stride

When you opened your eyes the next morning, there was light streaming in through the window to your right. You moved to stretch and found that you couldn't move at all. A moment of panic washed over you as your brain struggled to work. As your brain came back to the waking world, you realized you weren't tied up at all, but rather, you were in someone's arms. You craned your neck so you could look at the person holding you without moving too much; sure enough, you saw a head of familiar brown hair. Dimly, you remembered waking up a little in the middle of the night when the bed shifted.

You had only had the brainpower to register that it was Bucky getting into bed and not some intruder before you sunk back into the murkiness of sleep, though. He had been laying there pretty stiffly, though, you remembered, as if he was trying his hardest to stay on his side of the bed. Apparently, that had gone out the window sometime during the night, because he now had a strong grip around your body, pulling your back up against his chest. This was... this was actually really nice, if you were being honest. He was warm, like a portable fireplace.

In fact, you could feel the heat creeping up your face. You knew you should wake Bucky up so the both you could enjoy some breakfast. But– you actually really didn't want to. You had figured sharing a bed with your friend would have been awkward as hell, but you found that you were content. Bucky was a strong man, and it showed in the way he held you firmly against him. It didn't hurt, but there was no way you could go anywhere without waking him up. But you didn't feel trapped; you felt– safe. He had a solid grip on you, and you felt like nothing in this world could harm you.

You could feel his breath tickling your neck. The thought to twist around and get a look at his face occurred to you, but you decided not to; that would probably wake him up. But what were you going to do? When Bucky woke up, he would probably not be happy. He was always insisting on keeping his distance, and something like this? Well, it would probably be the epitome of 'inappropriate' to him. You let out a soft sigh and relaxed into his arms. Surely, five or ten more minutes wouldn't hurt, right? You shifted back into the foggy haze of not-quite-sleep.

Beside you, you could hear him breathing deeply. He must have been tired too, despite the tough front he put up last night. You figured he'd be a light sleeper, like most of the soldier-types you'd seen before, but somehow, he was still dead to the world despite all your squirming. He murmured something in his sleep and shifted positions slightly, taking you with him. This whole thing was kind of a strange experience; this confirmed, above all else, that the infamous Winter Soldier was indeed a human who needed to sleep just like everyone else.

Your legs were beginning to fall asleep, though. Maybe if you just shifted ever-so-slightly... Yes, that was much better. But what was poking you? You shifted against whatever it was again, trying to get a better feel for it. Bucky let out a grunt at this, and it almost sounded... Oh. Oh no. Suddenly, you realized what it was that was poking you. Well, if there was anything that confirmed that he was a human with human needs, then this was it. You knew that sometimes guys had this reaction when waking up, but goodness, this was awkward.

If you tried to wiggle out of his grasp now, he would definitely wake up, and then you'd have to deal with him knowing you knew exactly what was going on with him down there. So, you relaxed again. The only solution was to pretend to be asleep until Bucky woke up and ended this awkward situation himself. Hopefully he wouldn't scold you for inappropriate conduct after you got up; after all, if he was the big spoon, it was rather likely he'd initiated this whole thing himself in his sleep.

The time ticked by. How long was Bucky going to sleep for? There was no way you could fall asleep again, not with your heart beating as fast as it was. You had eyes, of course, and ears, and Bucky had attractive qualities for both of those. You were so infatuated with him you had obviously already thought about what it would be like if he held your face and kissed you, or how his voice would sound in your ear if he had you pinned up against a wall. You knew it was weird, but they were just thoughts; they would never happen in a thousand years, and you were okay with that.

But with him pressed up against you like this, all those thoughts came flooding to the front of your mind. Oh, it was wrong, so wrong, and you weren't the kind of person to do something to someone when they were unaware. So, you just laid there. When you were about to fall asleep again, you felt a light pressure on the top of your head along with what felt like a hand stroking through your hair. What was that? Was Bucky moving around in his sleep? You tested the waters by making little noises that indicated that you were finally stirring.

Bucky stiffened ever so slightly. Did this mean he was waking up too? You stirred a little louder and the bed shifted behind you. Suddenly, the warm arms that had been keeping you secure this entire time were off you entirely, and you fell the few inches down to the bed with a soft 'oof'. He sat up behind you, weirdly silent. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes (and secretly thankful to have your arms back), you sat up and glanced over at him. You stopped short. His hair was a mess, and shit, he was hot. Heat dusted your cheeks at the realization.

“Good morning,” you said in a small voice, fearing he would just jump out of the bed if you spoke too loudly for his liking.

“Morning,” he grumbled.

When you chanced a glance back at Bucky, you noticed his face was somewhat flushed. Was he blushing? Before you could say anything else to embarrass yourself, you tore the covers off your legs and hopped out of bed, refusing to look him in the eye. You crossed the room towards the window he had been staring out of last night. Now that it was daytime. You turned back to the bed to find that Bucky had his eyes fixed on you, a slightly dazed expression on his handsome features. He was still under the covers, and you wondered if his reluctance to get up was related to the little problem you had felt earlier.

“You–” he rasped before clearing his throat. “You want to shower first?”

Goodness, his voice sounded different in the morning. You would admit you had always liked the sound of it on a daily basis, but right now it was like someone had added extra grit, and you never wanted him to stop talking. This whole wedding thing was going to be absolute torture for you. On the one hand, you were more than happy to get to spend some alone time with that man you had a huge crush on, but on the other, it made you crave things you shouldn’t. You reminded yourself everything Bucky had been through and told your stupid hormones to get a life.

“Want to dance, doll?” Bucky asked, giving you a small and nervous smile. “I’m probably a little rusty though, might step on your feet.”

“I surely will step on yours,” you laughed, grabbing his hand. “I’d love to dance. Make me sway, Sarge.”

With a grin, he took one of your hands in his, banding his other arm around your back and pulling you a bit closer. You kept your gaze downward for the first minute or so, as if actually concerned you might hurt him. It was amusing and endearing. And finally, you looked up again. You couldn’t help the way your heart beat just a little faster. How it pulsed a little more intently in your fingertips where his skin grazed yours. But despite the way you moved easily with him, allowing him to lead, you could sense his stiffness; the way he maintained a careful distance between the both of you.

Bucky kept a respectful hand to your back, when all he wanted was to draw you flush against him. To lose himself in the warmth and comfort of you, falling into the rhythm and the feel of the stolen moment. Little did he know you were thinking exactly the same. At the end of the song, you drew back; your cheeks were a little flushed and you offered him a smile, but it didn't entirely reach your eyes. Bucky knew instantly what was bothering you. You were trying your best no to watch your ex-boyfriend slow dancing with his new girlfriend.

“Don’t pay attention to them,” he said quietly, pressing you further into him at the start of another song. “If he was stupid enough to let you go in the first place, too bad for him.”

“Too bad for him,” you repeated absent-mindedly, before looking back at your fake date with a beaming smile on your face. “Too bad for him, because now I’m enjoying this evening, and everyone is looking at me because I get to dance with the most handsome man in this room.”

“I’m not handsome,” he answered, his mood suddenly slipping. “And they are looking at you because you’re dancing with a fucking murderer.”

“James…”

“I know what they are thinking,” he said. “And you know the worst part of this? They are right.”

“James,” you cooed, squeezing his hand in yours. “Don’t say that about yourself. Look, what’s done is done. We can’t change it. But you’ve made such progress in such a short period of time. You should never be ashamed of who you were, because that’s why you are who you are. Your past will just make your victories all the sweeter. If anything, you should be proud of yourself.”

“I thought–” he sighed, groping for words. “I already thought about leaving, you know?”

“Why?”

“I’m not exactly popular, Y/N. I mean, even at the Stark Tower.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“You like me now because I’m doing you a favor.”

You blinked rapidly, suddenly feeling very indignant.

“That’s not true!” you said, voice a little shrill. “I like you now because of you. You’re—well, you’re actually my favorite person at the tower,” you admitted. “I couldn’t care less what people think. And I’m enjoying this with you now, and I liked talking with you earlier. I think you’re a good person. You’re kind. And patient. And clever. And– I would be sad if you left.”

His eyes had been staring into space, but then he looked at you again when you finished speaking, and his mouth quirked up in a shy smile.

“Well then, don’t worry your pretty head over it, Y/N,” he said flatly. “I already decided not to go.”

You simply stared at him in stunned silence.

“What?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You called me pretty,” you told him, a beaming smile on your lips.

“Well, y– you,” he stuttered nervously. “You called me handsome first.”

The both of you shared a smile and a small laugh. And as you fell into another easy, slow rhythm, you felt some of the tension evaporate from Bucky’s body. The strain sank from his shoulders, his stiff form relaxing a little. He planted a hand to the small of your back, smoothing along your spine. It was nice and pleasant, and you were pretty sure you could get used to it. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend sharing a languorous kiss, swaying in rhythm to the music. Feeling your body stiffened, Bucky followed your glance.

“Jesus,” you sighed. “Do they have to be s–”

You saw a flash of brown hair, and before you knew it, Bucky was kissing you. Nothing to do with the small pecks he had already occasionally given you to allay suspicion. This one was no chaste kiss. Bucky’s fingers had buried themselves in your hair, stroking through it while he kissed you deeply, perhaps more deeply and intensely than you usually would in public, especially considering that his tongue in your mouth—just the right amount, just the right pressure—was making you feel dizzy. You allowed yourself to fulfill your curiosity. Just a little couldn’t hurt.

You curled one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer with your other hand, tracing a hand down his chest and to his abdomen. It was, just as you had suspected, hard and taut under your fingers, and it tensed even more when you touched him. Bucky also made a sound deep in his throat, something like a little strangled growl, and a both entirely unwelcome and very delicious wave of heat shot through you, finally pooling at your abdomen. Bucky’s hands ghosted along your jaw and rested gently on your throat, his thumbs tracing little patterns as he kept kissing you.

“Hey!” your sister said, coming over and folding her arms. “Stop being indecent! There’s children here!”

Bucky turned his head slightly, but didn’t pull away completely.

“Sorry ma’am,” he murmured against your mouth, and then put his lips on yours again.

He kissed you one, two, three more times before he finally pulled away with a genuine little smile. You kept your eyes closed for a few more moments, your heart beating wildly, threatening to hammer its way out of your chest. Finally, you opened your eyes and took a deep breath. Trying to pretend you weren’t that affected by his kisses, you smoothed his tie against his chest, watching your hand shake slightly. When he slowly licked his lips, tempting as it was to go in for another heated kiss, you restrained yourself, fighting the need to brush your fingers across them. Because it wasn’t real. He was not attracted to you; he was just skillfully playing his part.

The rest of the evening went smoothly and uneventful. Some more drinks, some more slow dances, and thankfully, no more glances to your ex-boyfriend. On your way to your bedroom, Bucky’s right behind you, you had slipped off your heels, taking some pressure off your feet. When you had stepped on a rock, too busy gazing longingly at your fake date, he had swept you off your feet and carried you bridal style into the room the both of you shared. A little tipsy, you had rested your head on his shoulder, breathing into his masculine scent. You had fallen asleep the second your head had touched the pillow.

Bucky jolted awake at two in the morning. This was a semi-regular occurrence. It happened every few weeks or so, not as frequently as it used to be. It wasn’t terribly dramatic. His bad dreams didn’t make him wake up screaming or feeling incredibly frightened. Most of the time his eyes just flew open with a little gasp, or sometimes he sat up in bed. Tonight, it was the latter of the two—the blankets fell away slightly as he jerked up, looking around and trying desperately to get his bearings. His arm was tingling and his heart was racing, so he had a good guess what his dream had been about.

“James?” It was a sluggish mumble; you didn’t sound fully awake.

“It’s okay, doll,” he whispered, turning to peek at you. Your eyes were still closed, confirming that you were only half aware of your surroundings, and your brow was furrowed just slightly in confusion. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

You shifted a little. And then your arms fumbled with the covers and reached out toward him, the frown on your face growing. With a sloppy wave of your hand, you gestured for him to come closer to you. Bucky’s heart did a little flutter and butterflies crowded his stomach but he obeyed, tentatively scooting back. When he was within reach of your grasp, tour fingers curled gently around his flesh arm and pulled him toward you, gathering him close so his back was against your chest and he was tucked under your chin.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, very sleepily. “It’s okay.”

Your arms tightened even more, and mere seconds later your breathing pattern changed to something slower and deeper, indicating that you were fast asleep again. Bucky couldn’t escape your protective hold if he tried. Not that he wanted to. He hadn’t been held in a long time. It felt—safe. He squirmed a little, struggling with the urge to spin around in your embrace and kiss you. He vaguely knew that he was spiraling to a point of no return. It took him a while to fall asleep again, but he finally did, still wrapped up in your protective embrace.

When the morning came, you were still tangled in each other. With a slow, fluttered blink, you let out a soft groan. Your back arched as you stretched where you laid, pressing your skin more firmly against the body in front of where you faced. Bucky’s arm was laid over your waist, keeping you pinned there in a possessive embrace with your legs slotted together beneath the white sheet draped over your lower halves. His morning erection was a hot and heavy weight against your thigh. Jesus fuck. This man would be the death of you.

“Good morning,” he whispered gently and you nearly jumped out of your skin realizing he was already awake.

“Good morning,” you answered in a raspy voice.

It felt domestic waking up with him like that, and you felt a twinge of sadness when you realized it would soon be over. Because none of that was real, and it was more and more difficult for you to stay grounded to reality. You wanted to talk to him, to explain what you were feeling, but your voice was stuck in your throat. You were afraid of scaring him away, of being rejected, of ruining that friendship, that trust you had work so hard to get. If your feelings were not mutual, everything around you would collapse like a house of cards.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked, trying to break the silence but making no move to disentangle from his embrace.

“Yes, thanks to you,” he said, gazing at you so intently it made you clenched your thighs. “To be honest, I haven’t slept so well in ages. It feels good.”

“That’s good to hear,” you breathed, one of your fingers gliding tenderly over the light stubble on his cheeks. “James…”

For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. But it made no sense, because you didn’t have an audience. It was just the two of you. Not that you cared, because honestly there was nothing you craved more than the feeling of lips against yours, judging by the thunderous beating of your poor heart inside your chest. And for a brief moment you wondered if he knew how stunning he was. You were pretty sure he didn’t. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to show him. Fuck, you wanted him to ravish you here and now. You were losing your mind.

“You– You can shower first. I mean– If you want,” you stuttered nervously, and it took every ounce of your willpower not to grab his face and kiss him for dear life. “I think I’m going to skip breakfast and stay in bed some more.”

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles so tenderly you could have cried. “Does my girlfriend need some morning cuddles?”

Girlfriend. You froze upon hearing this word coming out of his mouth, and you felt your whole body stiffened. You knew he was just being playful, but your heart tightened in your chest anyway. There he was, lying down next to you, so handsome with his messy hair and his sleepy eyes, completely oblivious to the pain he had just caused you. How were you supposed to get your shit together when he was invading your personal space like that? The sensual warmth of his body, the masculine scent of his skin, his breathing on your neck and his hand tracing abstract patterns on your shoulder.

“Actually, I need some alone time.”

It came out harsher than expected, but it was too late to take back your words. If Bucky were hurt, he didn’t show it. Maybe because he was used to being rejected, maybe because he was expecting it. He leaned forward, probably to kiss your forehead, but changed his mind along the way, surely trying to give you some room. He simply got out of bed and headed to the bathroom while you rolled over in your bed, cursing under your breath. If ruining everything were to become an Olympic sport, you were certain to snatch the gold without even needing a proper training.

“Fuck me,” you growled, burying your head in your pillow.

“Hm, Y/N,” Bucky called, startling you. “I’m leaving. I’ll try to save you a croissant in case you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, getting out of bed to walk him to the door.

You shut the door behind him and double locked it so that no one was going to be able to walk in on you. As you made your way towards your bed, you practically tore off your pajamas. Honestly, this was slightly humiliating; this was probably the last thing on Bucky’s mind while he had you pinned to that mattress. And if he ever found out, he would probably be completely disturbed by the revelation and the intensity of your desire. You felt like a complete pervert for feeling like this, but by this point things were too far gone for you to make a half turn.

You lay back down on your bed and wasted no time at all, bringing your dominant hand down to your clit and rubbing in slow circles. You were already dripping wet. In your mind's eye, you pictured Bucky looming over you, much like he had a few minutes before. The grip he had on you wasn't gentle in the slightest; though he also did his best to not hurt you. He was able to lift you up with almost no effort at all, strong hands gripping your ass and hoisting you up to his level. You could almost hear his voice now, taunting you for getting so worked up over this.

You wanted him to want you. He had been a soldier for many years, so you figured his skin must be rough from years of physical challenges. The thought of his rough hands sliding down your body, past your shoulders, over your breasts, all the way down to your core... Back in the real world, you arched into your touch, pretending that a hand much less smooth than yours was touching you. The vibranium one maybe. Would he be gentle? Or would he prefer a rougher approach? Both situations sounded equally appealing to you.

And, the most shameful part of it all, was that you wanted to hear him praise you in that voice of his. You wanted to hear him call you pretty, admire your curves, make sure every bit of you was appreciated. The very thought caused you to blush profusely, and you covered your face with the hand that wasn't attending to yourself. You were suddenly very thankful the walls here were thick; if someone overheard you, you would have been mortified. Or maybe excited. Deep down, a part of you wanted Bucky to burst out of the door to find you moaning and writhing to the thought of him.

“James,” you whined, quickening your pace.

Oh, you were close. You conjured up the image of Bucky hovering above you on your bed, trailing his rough hands down your body. His fingers were large, thick, calloused, and you could almost feel them sliding inside of you, teasing your most sensitive spots. You bit down on the hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries. Shit, this was really getting you off. Now that you had experienced firsthand how his body felt pressed against yours, you wanted more. You wanted more of him pinning you to things, yes, but you also wanted him to hold you like he had, strong and secure and warm.

You were there, finally. Cries of his name tumbled from your lips as you rode out your climax, savoring the sweet relief you finally felt. After days of being embarrassingly worked up, you were glad to finally have a break from it. As you came down from your high, you panted, rolling over on your bed and burying your face in your pillow again with a low groan. Your hormones were at war and your emotions were caught in the crossfire. The sole idea of facing him after what you had just done was physically painful. You had a big problem.

Utterly mortified, you spent most of the morning trying to stay out of his way, barely able to look in his direction without feeling heat creeping up your cheeks. Whenever he would enter the room you were in, you would fake a discussion with the first of your relatives within reach just to make sure he would not come to talk to you. Yes, you were that pathetic. But you couldn’t help yourself. Whenever he was too close to you, your skin felt as though it were alive, as if your blood was turning to fire inside your veins, as if your heart was trying to hammer its way out of your chest.

You couldn’t stay like this, because in addition to embarrassing yourself each passing second, you were starting to look psychotic. You needed to talk to him, to tell him how you felt. It would just be a bad moment to go through. If he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, you could always pretend it never happened and wait to be home to sink into depression. But if he did reciprocate them… Goodness, you couldn’t think like that and get your hopes up for nothing. You would probably not survive the disappointment.

You were going to enter the small lounge when you heard voices coming from inside the room. The first one belonged to Bucky. The second one to your sister.

“I know I’m not good enough for her.”

“Obviously,” she exclaimed. “No one’s good enough for my little sister. She’s a gem.”

“You’re not going to get an argument from me,” Bucky answered with a small but genuine laugh. “She’s the living proof that beauty is not just a matter of appearances. I mean, it’s evident in the way her beauty shines from inside out.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were rooted to the spot, your hand on the door handle, and your heart was beating so loud in your ears you barely heard what they were saying. Here you were, having an inner conflict deciding whether you should enter the room and interrupt them or walk away, pretending you hadn’t heard anything. But you couldn’t leave if you tried. You leaned against the door, as if hypnotized by Bucky’s voice and the sweet words coming out of his mouth.

“She manages to bring out the best in everyone, and believe me when I say it’s a gift way more useful than super strength or telekinesis.”

“Damn, you got it bad,” your sister chuckled.

“She has been nothing but kind to me,” he explained. “Even when she had all the reasons to turn her back on me.”

“Is that why you love her? Because she’s nice to you?”

“Honestly? I don’t need a reason, don’t think I ever will. The reason is… Her. She’s the whole reason. If that makes any sense.”

He couldn’t be that good of an actor, could he? There was such sincerity in his words that it brought tears to your eyes. You had felt loved before, but never like this. Upon hearing him talk about you like you hung the moon and stars, you realized that for though you had loved before, you had never really known what it really meant. You had to believe he was speaking with his heart, and not just trying to bamboozle your sister. Because if he was able to just come up with passionate love declarations on cue, he would deserve a fricking Oscar!

“She doesn’t have to reciprocate, though,” he concluded.

“Oh, I’m fairly certain she does,” your sister answered as if it were obvious.

Your nearly went through the roof upon hearing those words. Now was the time to put an end to this conversation. You didn’t need your sister to expose your feelings like that, and you knew how much she enjoyed interfering in everything. You took a deep breath, gathered up your courage and entered the room without knocking.

“There you guys are,” you said nonchalantly, as if Bucky’s words hadn’t just rocked your whole world. “My dear sister, I’m pretty sure your future husband is looking for you in the patio.”

“Yeah, sure,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

You nodded absent-mindedly, your gaze fixed on the super soldier in front of you. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, probably wondering if you had overheard anything. His ears where tinged with the cutest shade of pink and you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms. So, you did. You approached him gently, gauging his reaction, and when a smile blossomed of his lips, you took the leap. He was warm, and strong; and as usual, you felt instantly safe. As if his arms had been made for you to find shelter in.

“Hi,” you whispered, a beaming smile on your lips.

Without giving him time to reply, you pushed onto your toes, raising your hands to gently cup his face, and kissed him in the most gentle way. Since the both of you came here, he had kissed you multiple times, but it was the very first time you were taking the initiative. You had meant it to be slow and tender, but when a soft moan escaped his throat, something snapped in you. You shove one hand into his hair, slid the other against his chest and pulled him closer to you. Coming to life, his hands snapped up to wrap around your waist, fingers digging in the most tender parts of it.

You barely noticed your sister leaving the room with a knowing smile on her lips, completely entranced by the way Bucky was clinging to you as if you were a flotation device. You traced his lips tentatively with your tongue and pressed closer to him, and it was your turn to moan when he opened his mouth, tipping your head a little further. Your heart was beating a hundred miles an hour, so loud in your ears you were pretty sure Bucky could hear it as well. And that was quite fine. You wanted him to know how you felt, how much you cared about him.

You became overcome by some irrational need to feel the warmth of his skin, and you allowed your hand to move down to the hem of his shirt, slipping it beneath the soft cotton. Your hand went like a whisper up his stomach and to his chest. You felt hard muscles beneath your fingers, and you let your nails scrape lightly against his skin. Beneath the pads of your fingers, you finally felt his scars, soft smooth dips in jagged lines. You hadn’t really realized how self-conscious he was about them, and all of sudden, he broke the kiss gently, pushing your hand away.

“Hi,” he finally answered with his lips still brushing yours, breathless.

“Sorry, you know, about before. Got out of the wrong side of bed,” you tried to explain, your fingers caressing his neck. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You already are.”

“Shit,” you grumbled, struggling with your necklace’s clasp. “I think the clasp is tangled in my hair.”

“Need a hand?” he asked, already walking to you.

“Please.”

You were incredibly aware of every footstep he took, and of his presence in the space behind you when he filled it. Every touch of his fingers on your skin was like receiving a particularly powerful electric zap. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to prevent yourself from exposing how you felt about what he was doing to you. You were quite certain that he was purposefully brushing his fingers across the nape of your neck more than necessary to get the necklace off, and by the time you finally heard the clasp come apart and he pulled it away, your heart was thrumming along at a nearly painful velocity.

You were about to thank him and take a step when he took gentle hold of your shoulders; and then you felt his lips pressing softly onto the side of your neck. You could not avoid letting out a choked little gasp when Bucky’s lips touched your skin, the touch too much for your wired-up senses. You also had seemingly no control over the way you automatically tilted your head back and to the side to expose your neck to him further. His grip on your shoulders tightened. You were ashamed that he could reduce you to a whimpering puddle of lust from barely doing anything.

“Y/N,” he murmured.

His voice was quiet and deep and it was as if it vibrated through to your very nerves. You squeezed your thighs together, your brain stuttering. Bucky’s mouth was already on your neck again, peppering kisses down to your shoulder, his fingers coming up to linger at your dress strap. You didn’t remember the last time you were so affected by even just the faintest of kisses and touches. An almost painful fire was already pooling in your abdomen. Surely, this super soldier would be the death of you, and surprisingly, you were more than willing.

“I want you,” he whispered, in that same low, silky tone.

You momentarily forgot how to breathe. Your heart felt like it was about to burst. His fingers slid up and down along your dress strap, brushing the skin underneath. His head was tucked into the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath, sending tingles down your spine, each of his exhales like a pleasant electric jolt to your system.

“Do you want me?”

It wasn’t even an attempt to start some dirty talk between the two of you. He was genuinely asking for your consent, for your validation. And you realized that he strongly craved to feel needed and accepted for who he was. His fingers continued tracing your dress strap, though you noted—with an almost painful shiver of arousal—that he also slid it a few inches down toward your shoulder, pressing his lips in the vacated spot. He was waiting, you knew, for you to say it out loud.

“Yes,” you choked out finally, and you had barely gotten the word out before Bucky took you by the shoulders, spun you gently around, and dipped his mouth to yours.

Even though it was not the first time he had kissed you, this kiss still made you weak in the knees. His tongue slid along your bottom lip and into your mouth with a practiced ease when you sighed and parted your lips. You looped your arms around his neck and clung to him fiercely, pulling him closer. His hands were everywhere—your hips, your sides, your hair, your face. He couldn’t seem to get enough of touching your face. He held your jaw and then your cheeks and ran his fingers in patterns over your skin while you thrilled at how big his hands were; how small you felt in his grasp.

You brought one of your hands to trace his jaw, feeling the sharpness of it and the slight stubble there. Despite the intensity you could feel emanating off him, he still seemed intent on kissing you slowly and carefully. As if he were still hesitating. He paused, his forehead touching yours. When he didn’t return to kissing you after a moment, your eyes slowly opened. He was looking down at your face, eyes blazing. Your heart fluttered. He seemed to be vulnerable and insecure, as if he couldn’t really believe this was actually happening.

“I need you, James,” you whispered, caressing his face. “Please.”

All of a sudden, he was kissing you again. It was rougher now. More frenzied. You reached up and gripped at his forearms as his tongue slid across yours again, mostly to steady yourself more than anything. If you were to let go of him, it was entirely possible that your knees would give way and you would collapse. Or perhaps you would just melt into an aroused puddle right here on the bedroom’s horrendously expensive floor.

Your hand drifted from his jaw down the side of his neck, down to his chest, appreciating his pectorals. The other curled around the back of his head so you could press yourself even closer. There was now an almost painful throbbing sensation between your legs, especially when he slid a hand down your side and to your waist. But then, quite suddenly, Bucky stopped kissing you again. You made a quiet sound of indignant protest at the loss of his lips on yours, but then they were trailing over your jaw before hovering near your ear again, his fingers tightening on your hip.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, nibbling gently on your earlobe.

It took you a few moments to answer.

“Mean what?” You whispered finally, very breathlessly.

He nuzzled your neck before sucking lightly on a spot that made your legs shake.

“What you said, during the dance.”

Your cheeks warmed up when you remembered exactly what you had told him.

“Every word, James.”

“Y/N,” he nearly purred. “I don’t want this to be just a fling.”

His voice was still quiet, and slightly darker now. There was an edge of possession and triumph to it that made you shiver in anticipation. God—you were already practically vibrating in his arms and he hadn’t even come close to touching you yet. All you could think about was how badly you needed this. You kissed him hard as an answer, dragging yourself close until you could feel the hard curve of him against your thigh. When you purposefully ground your hips against him, he emitted a quiet, masculine groan into your mouth that sent a rush of heat through your entire body.

Bucky began to take purposeful steps forward, nudging you back toward the bed. You stumbled backward in sync with his steps, still clinging to him, and you barely noticed when you fell onto the mattress. He was hovering over you an instant later, hands on either side of your head, his body irritatingly far from yours as he dipped his head to keep kissing you. You fought a whimper when he nibbled on your bottom lip. Still, even after kissing you for a long time and making your head spin, he didn’t bring himself closer.

You arched your back, trying to achieve the nearness to his body that you wanted, but all he did was drag one hand down your chest, over your hip, and around to the back of your thigh. He surprised you by taking your hand and pulling you back up until you were both kneeling on the bed, facing each other. Bucky’s hand came down to cup your chin, tilting your head slowly up to kiss you. It was soft again. Your heart thrummed along almost painfully in your chest. It only got worse when he ran his hands through your hair and then trailed down the curve of your breast.

“You know, it– It’s been a while,” he admitted, shame written all over his handsome face. “I don’t know– I’m not–”

Slowly, you shushed him with a finger on his lips. You drew yourself higher, gently knocking his hands out of the way, and began working at the buttons of his shirt. Bucky caught both sides of your face and tilted your head up again to capture your gaze, and your heart momentarily faltered. But you still valiantly worked at his buttons, even while not breaking eye contact with him. You could feel his chest rising and falling below your hands. He was staring at you in a way that made you shiver again. He would let you do anything you wanted to him; you could see it in his blue eyes.

You only got the shirt halfway open before you leaned in and pressed your lips to his exposed chest. You moved your hands up to skim his broad shoulders, trailing kisses upward, flicking your tongue out to taste his skin. When you reached his neck, you sucked lightly, and he jolted under you. His fingers came to tug at the rest of his buttons. He was shrugging his shirt off, and you immediately ducked lower, to his abdomen this time, kissing and licking and nipping, running your hands appreciatively over him. It was like he was chiseled out of marble.

This time, when you came back up, you found his mouth, and as you kissed him you felt one of his hands slide down to your ass, bunching the fabric up, squeezing and kneading. You moaned faintly. The way he kissed you now was bruising. Feeling like you might actually combust, you reached down to brush the hardened curve of his cock through his trousers. You were rewarded with a low groan into your mouth that set you ablaze. Bucky reached around to start pulling—though agonizingly slowly—at your dress zipper.

He took his time even after it was undone, moving to run his fingers through your hair again, tucking some hair behind your ear with infinite tenderness, trailing over your face, before he finally, finally, started to pull the dress over your head. You lifted your arms to encourage him. Your breasts slid out from under the fabric, and you heard his sharp intake of breath before the dress was completely over your head and being tossed off to the side. When you saw his face again, he looked as if he’d been hit square in the head with a baseball bat. He had clearly been expecting a bra.

He stared at you, kneeling there in just your knickers, his eyes glazed, their blue color now almost entirely obscured by black. You felt yourself throb again just at the look on his face. Bucky looked sinfully good—shirtless, his trousers bunched tight around an obvious bulge, his abdomen chiseled. Even kneeling like this on the bed he was tall and sturdy, looming over you. His chest moved rapidly as he took you in, eyes drifting along you as if deciding what to do with you first, and you felt an electric thrill run up your spine.

His lips came blissfully back to yours, hard and insistent, and then he dragged his tongue down the length of your neck. You shuddered and reached up to weave your fingers through his hair. When he arrived at your right breast and took it into his mouth, you let out a faint keening sound, gripping at him so fiercely that you were pulling hard at his hair now, but he didn’t complain. He caressed you with his hands, thumb grazing over your hardened nipple, at the same time that his mouth lightly kissed and teased you. A strangled moan tore out of you when he finally swirled his tongue around your nipple and took it in his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Fuck, James,” you gasped, tightening your hold on his hair even further.

All you could do was mumble half coherent curse words as he alternated between slow, teasing flicks of his tongue, and taking it in his mouth and suckling. His mouth was so wet and hot you wanted to scream. When he moved away and up to kiss you again, you were shaking. He pushed you until you were lying on your back again, hair sprawled wildly over the pillow. He took another long moment to just look at you, eyes alight with want. You had never been with someone that so openly gazed at you like this, so many times and for so long.

His fingertips, warm against your skin, began tracing a line up your calf, along your knee, and slowly along your inner thigh. You trembled, biting back moans, feeling like you might shatter. He dipped his head to kiss down your sternum. You twisted on the bed, inwardly begging him to finally touch you where you were aching. You felt so helplessly empty. You were certain that he could feel the heat radiating out of you already when his hand moved up your legs and closer to your center. You were also certain your panties were ruined.

But he still just ghosted close to your core, dancing across your inner thighs, without actually touching you. You could hardly think straight. You wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to push deep into you, over and over, until you were no longer able to form a coherent sentence. Bucky finally grazed you over the fabric and you let out a low hiss between your teeth, arching toward him even further, your back bent almost impossibly far to try and find more friction against his hand. The feather light touches were almost worse than nothing.

“James, please,” you managed to get out, by now far past caring that you were begging. “Please, touch me.”

You saw a smile turn the corners of his mouth upward before he ducked his head down once more, curling his tongue around your right nipple and sucking. You whimpered softly, gripping him so hard that your nails dug into his arms. Finally, his fingers slipped inside the band of your panties, found your clit, and brushed it. You tensed completely and let out a strangled sound you were quite sure you had never made before. You writhed under him as he alternated between rubbing slow, steady circles and dragging a finger up your slit, groaning when he felt how slick you were.

“You’re so wet for me, doll,” he rasped with a husky voice.

You felt half crazed. You wanted to reply, but then he dragged a finger up your slit again, this time applying more pressure on your clit when he reached it and you could only moan faintly. His circular teasing gradually become faster and faster. You were already starting to see stars when he stopped. Before you could let out a faint noise of complaint, Bucky kissed you, pulling your panties off the rest of the way as he did so, sliding them down your calves, over your ankles, and tossing them away to join your dress on the floor.

You felt like you were about to levitate off the bed when he ducked down to kiss your knee, and then higher on your thigh, moving up and up and up. You were so achingly sensitive that at this point even his light breathing against your swollen core was almost painful. He hovered for a moment, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, spreading your legs open. When he attached his mouth to your clit and gave a feather light suck, you threw your head back and let out a long, low moan, reaching to clutch at one of his shoulders, your other hand twisting in the sheets.

“Fuck,” you breathed as his tongue brushed your clit, sending ripples of pleasure up your spine. “Fuck, fuck, fuck–”

He probed and kissed and teased with his tongue, occasionally coming up to flick it quickly over your clit. Each time he did it, you wanted to scream. His pace was still agonizingly slow, and you couldn’t help but start to rhythmically jut your hips out to increase the friction. He sped up to match you, moaning into you, and the resulting vibrations had you thrashing on the bed. Your stomach contracted and rippled as you rolled your hips into his mouth; he reached up and gently caressed one of your breasts, massaging it skillfully under his fingers.

When you looked down to watch him between your legs, you saw that his eyes were upward, observing how your body moved. You nearly screamed again when he moved to your clit and lightly sucked again. You were pleased when he stayed there with his tongue, adding more and more pressure, bringing you up and up and up. Your head fell back onto the pillow. You reached for his hair, weaving it between your fingers, and began to roll your hips into his mouth again, unabashedly fucking his face. You heard him growl in his throat, and he began flicking his tongue faster.

The room went blurry. You practically sobbed, as the pressure inside you built and built, approaching the breaking point. He took your clit in his mouth and sucked, hard, and you finally shattered. This time you actually did let out a soft scream as tremors of white-hot pleasure ripped their way through your entire body. You shook and convulsed on the bed, fingers still gripping Bucky’s hair. It felt like it went on forever. When it finally subsided, you went limp, panting, eyes still squeezed shut. Your muscles were mush.

You were so dazed that it took you a lot longer than it should have to realize that he was still between your legs, slowly licking your arousal off your thighs and still very, very gently kissing and licking you. You let out a low, incoherent moan. Bucky kept going, still carefully, until the sensitivity had all but faded. You were pleasantly warm and relaxed; despite the building ache he was already coaxing between your thighs again with his tongue. His warm mouth moved away from you and his hands ran slowly up your body, his mouth following their path, until he was up over you, gripping your face again.

“You taste amazing,” he told you, sucking lightly on your neck before groaning into your skin. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

You let out a desperate noise, grabbed his jaw, pulled his face up to yours again, and kissed him. You took his shoulders, forcefully flipped him over to straddle him, and began undoing his belt. Bucky stared up at you with a look of vague surprise before a slow smile spread over his face, his eyes dragging shamelessly over you as you got his trousers and boxer-briefs pulled down to his knees. His cock sprang out and you stared for a few seconds before flicking up to meet his gaze. He smiled, wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest.

You slowly sank onto him, relishing in your simultaneous moans, gratified when you saw how he closed his eyes and his face scrunched with pleasure as your walls enveloped him. He moaned as you sunk lower until you had taken him all the way to the hilt. You nipped at his neck, buried your face into it, just savoring the sensation of him inside you. It was perfect. Better than you had imagined. Bucky planted his feet on the bed, his thighs tilted up, and you shifted to put your hands on either side of him, breasts in his face, and slowly started to ride him.

Each time you moved your hips was slow and deliberate. You wanted to feel every inch of him sliding out and then back in. His breathing became more ragged, and you felt him tilt his hips up just slightly more, his hands encircling your hips, still letting you lead but ensuring that he would hit you deeper. And it was just the right spot. The right angle. So good. He picked up the pace, thrusting his hips out now to meet yours. Your hands come to grip his shoulders; his hand came to weave into your hair and pull you closer, until your forehead came down to touch his.

You choked on whimpers as you began picking up the snapping motion of his hips. The sound of your ass clapping loudly against his strong thighs filled the room. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. His expression was half ravenous, half stunned. As if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing; that he was here with you. This was easily the most erotic thing that had ever happened to you. You were going to lose your mind. Bucky’s hands run up your spine, and you followed the sweep of the motion, sitting up straighter.

You rolled your hips higher and fucked him hard. Harder. You watched his glazed eyes move down to watch the way your tits bounced before they trailed down your body, down your stomach, to where the both of you were joined, watching where he was sliding into you, over and over. He started to piston ruthlessly up and into you, and you grabbed at his chest for leverage. Whimpers and moans were tumbling unbidden from your mouth now. Bucky’s eyes had come back to your face, and one of his hands moved so his thumb could swiftly rub your clit.

“You’re so tight,” he panted, his voice low and raspy. “It feels so good.”

“I’m close,” you managed to whisper, hoarsely.

His hands came to grip your hips, and he suddenly flipped you over so that you were on your back, pushing back into you in one fluid movement. You keened, throwing your head back against the pillow, and he took the opportunity to bury his head into your neck. His vibranium slid up to gently but possessively hold your throat, and you almost came right there. His eyes were on your face again. The intensity of him. There was nothing like it. He pulsed his hips up and then paused, momentarily bottomed out inside you, and the sound he made ignited you.

“James,” you moaned, caressing his face. “Don’t fight it, come for me.”

“Fuck,” he growled, beginning to thrust again. “I want to feel your perfect little cunt tightening as I fill you up. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered, nodding and squeezing your eyes shut.

His words had you on the edge of your sanity. Every thrust of his hips ground against your clit. You were close, so close. His mouth came to capture yours again, his hand trailing along your jaw and neck. You scrambled to hold onto something as you felt the crest approaching, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. One more long, deep stroke, and the tight coil inside you, the one he had so expertly wound, snapped. You twisted under him, and the bliss hit you like a train for the second time that night.

You were floating in the ecstasy of your release, and it was only magnified when you felt Bucky twitch as he met his own peak. He groaned, jerking his hips erratically as he came inside you as promised. His hands were hot on your skin and he gripped you close to him as you both rode out your waves before going still, his body warm and heavy, but not unpleasantly so, on top of you. After a moment, he made his way up to your lips and kissed you until you could hardly breathe.

“It feels like a dream,” he whispered, plunging his eyes into yours. “I don’t– I honestly don’t know what you see in me, doll.”

“You seem to totally forget all the wonderful, unique things about yourself Sergeant Barnes,” you said gently, caressing his face. “I’ll help you remember.”

When he rolled off, he didn’t move far away. He reached out with lazy arms, pulling you into his chest.

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