Elevated

The night really got away from her. Nora improved at the games vastly once Bucky started taking her shots for her. He was incredibly subtle, and it took a long time for anyone to notice. When he did, Sam was outraged. Probably because they were losing. Bucky shrugged, but Nora was bullied at Darcy’s similar outrage, into doing another shot.

Bucky scowled. He’d continued to get strange looks from Steve and Nora was positive Natasha knew he was up to something, but nobody else had said anything.

Nora managed to get her leg out of his grip sometime around midnight despite the growl that he pitched low enough she was sure nobody else could hear it over the music. She cornered Clint near the dining table where he was eating a handful of tortilla chips. Nora ripped a chunk of bread off a loaf and took a bite. She was a little drunk, and she wanted not to be by the time they left the apartment. “Did you do it?”

“Do what?” Clint muttered, looking for salsa and not finding it. He dunked a chip in the vegetable dip instead.

“Ew, weirdo. Did you give her the iPod?”

Clint immediately got awkward. His whole body tensed up and he shot a nervous look over her shoulder at the couch. Then he flinched, “Why the fuck is he looking at me like that?”

Nora glanced over her shoulder. Bucky was looking their direction, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t looking at Clint, “He’s looking at me.” She swiveled and leveled a finger at Clint, “Quit being such a chicken.”

Clint looked alarmed, “Why the fuck is he looking at you like that?”

Nora was definitely a little drunk because she answered immediately, “He likes my skirt. I did not waste two evenings searching through boxes for you not to give it to her!”

Clint blanched, “Are you joking?”

She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the first part of her statement or the second. It didn’t matter. She turned and announced loudly, “Hey Darcy, Clint got you a present.” Clint made a panicked noise, but Darcy shot up from the couch, shoving the controller in her hand at Thor.

“Seriously?” She crossed the room to the table and surveyed Clint, “You didn’t have to.” She elbowed Nora, “Nora didn’t even get me a present.”

“Did too.” Nora asserted, “I emailed it. Jackie was right, everything should be paperless.” She took another bite of her bread and picked up a carrot to throw at the back of Tony’s head. He was in the middle of a minigame and while it was in her best interest that he win, he was pretty good at the game and she didn’t like that.

“The fuck?” He shouted, even as he continued to dominate.

Darcy pulled her phone out of her pocket to check her email, “How did I not even notice- oh my god. Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Nora answered, “Happy birthday.” Darcy made an excited noise and hugged her. Clint tried to use the distraction to edge towards the door. “Now open Clint’s, it’s cool.”

She thought Clint might want to murder her. That was fine. Bucky wouldn’t let him. The second Darcy let her go she turned and went to wedge herself between Bucky and Steve on the couch. There wasn’t a lot of space between them, the whole seating arrangement was shifting constantly and forcing people to squish awkwardly together. As pressed as she was to Bucky on her right, she was equally in Steve’s space.

Steve blinked at her, confused. Bucky stretched his left arm around her shoulders, and gripped Steve’s. Wanda, who was sitting across the living room, lifted her phone. Nora smiled reflexively, as she took a photo. Then she muttered, “He’s doing it, one of you look.”

Steve turned his head, just a little, “Darcy’s tearing up.”

“Yes,” Nora hissed. She poked Bucky’s knee, “Now you’ve gotta tell him how to get her to say yes to a date.”

“No,” Bucky replied.

“Why not? C’mon, he’s been so sad.”

Bucky shook his head, “Won’t work.”

Nora blinked at him. Steve had leaned forward a little and was staring at him, “Why not?”

He snorted, “It’s Clint.”

“Oh.” Nora said, “You’re right.” There was something to Bucky’s physicality that made all the little touches he’d given her add up to something huge. Clint was an entirely different kind of person. The way he carried himself she didn’t think was suited to Bucky’s sort of flirting at all.

“Silver,” Tony threw the controller at her and Steve caught it this time, offering it to her and frowning at Tony, “Beat your boyfriend.”

“Kay.” Nora answered. She might’ve had some snark to throw at him, but she was too pleased by the sentence as a whole. Bucky huffed a small laugh and took his arm back to accept the controller Sam offered him.

Nora did beat Bucky. Then she played three more minigames in a row and won them too. They would have probably won the whole thing, but of course they got screwed by the bonus stars at the end. Tony went off on a tirade that Nora thoroughly agreed with. Darcy had managed to find a cable and played music from her old iPod that made Nora extremely nostalgic for her time in university. She watched Darcy cut searching looks at Clint.

Eventually, while she was in the middle of a conversation with Sam near the table, Bucky wrapped an arm around her stomach and pulled her back against his chest, “Let’s go.” He muttered. He’d continued to shoot her predatory looks whenever she was out of his reach and put his hands on her whenever she wasn’t.

“Okay,” Nora said, “Bye Sam.”

Sam looked stunned. Bucky let her go and steered her towards the door, clapping Sam on the shoulder on his way by. Nora thought she might like Bucky’s Irish goodbye. Nobody waylaid them with last minute conversations or shot them strange looks. Instead, they made it all the way to the elevator in silence. Nora was sure that Bucky would kiss her once the doors were shut, but he didn’t. Just kept one hand flat on the small of her back. He steered her down the hall on the ninety-seventh floor and into his apartment.

Nora made it a few steps into the room and froze at the sound of the deadbolt flicking shut.

Nora understood, when she turned and looked at him, a little of Clint’s earlier alarm. Bucky was being incredibly intense. His whole body was carefully loose, not the way he was in bed at all, but like he was a predator trying to lull her into a false sense of security. His shirtsleeves were still rolled, and she could see all the muscle poorly contained under the fabric.

“Tell me again,” he said. His voice was all gravel. He took a step towards her and for a split second, she thought she ought to run. He took another step and guided her with one gentle hand on her hip, to one of his kitchen stools.

“Um,” She sat, feeling cornered. Whatever game they’d been playing, she was clearly losing. Probably because he seemed to know the rules, “Tell you what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he knelt in front of her. All the air seemed to leave the kitchen. He lifted her right foot to his chest and undid the clasp on her shoe. He kissed the inside of her ankle and slid the heel off. He set it aside and lowered her foot back to the metal edge of the stool. He reached for her left. He did the same, undoing the clasp and setting her heel aside, but this time he lingered. Kissing a line up from her ankle, leaving a half dozen burning little circles in his wake. He stopped and looked up at her and she knew what he wanted to hear.

“I’m yours.” She said. It came out breathy, like she’d forgotten how to speak properly.

He hummed, “Keep going.” He slid his hands up her legs, fingers pausing at the hem of her skirt.

Nora thought she might have an idea of the rules now. He wanted information in exchange for whatever he was planning to do with his hands. She didn’t know exactly what that was, but she wanted to find out. She also didn’t know exactly what he wanted her to say. She had mostly sobered up, but there was just enough alcohol still in her to loosen her tongue.

“What do you want to hear?” She asked, “That I’ve never had a hickey?” The fingers of his right hand tapped and she knew that was wrong, “Or that nobody had ever kissed me properly before you?” He made a soft sound, his fingers stilling, “It’s true. Every time you kiss me it’s like I’ve been starving.”

That was the right answer. His right hand slid up, over her thigh and under her skirt, to take a handful of her nylons and pull them down. Nora gripped the edge of the counter hard and lifted her hips to help him.

“More.” He demanded.

Nora didn’t want him to stop the slow trace of his fingers on her legs as he rolled the stockings down, “Nobody else has made me come either.” He growled and then her legs were bare. He pressed his mouth to the inside of her calf and worked up to her thigh. Nora was on fire all over, “Not with their mouth, or their hands.” The sound he made pitched a little lower. He was so close and not at all close enough. “Please Bucky,” she tried to drag him closer with a hand in his hair but he was immovable.

“Tell me.” His left hand was tracing little circles on her calf, cold enough to make her shiver.

She wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear but she knew what she wanted to tell him, “I love when you touch me. Every time. My hair, my hand, my neck, it’s always perfect. You always know.” Then, because he never denied her when she said what she wanted, “I wanted you to kiss me. In the bathroom? I wanted you to bend me over the sink and fuck me.”

“Fuck, doll. Fuckin’ filthy- you want-“

“I want you to fuck me now. Please Buck-“

He stood and she whined when he looped an arm around her back and picked her up with him. She looped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and kissed him. He returned it properly, the way he always did. Like kissing her was the only thing that mattered. He tasted like whiskey and cinnamon and she thought for some reason that he should. She’d never liked the taste until she was licking it off his tongue.

They made it as far as the hall and he stopped to press her against the wall, one hand under her ass and the other roving over her neck and down her chest. He tugged the collar of her shirt down to see the mark he’d left.

Nora took the opportunity of the little bit of space he’d given and pulled her shirt off, then tilted against him to unclasp her bra and let that fall away too. He pressed his hips a little closer and she whined as he thumbed across her nipple.

His hands were perfect, Nora thought as his left gripped a little tighter. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as he fit his mouth to her neck, licking a hot trail across her skin. The second she had it undone she dragged her hands over his chest and down his abs. She liked to take her time touching him, feel every muscle and every little scar, but she was desperate.

She yanked at his belt, intent on having it off. Bucky’s hand dropped to hers, “Sweetheart, no. Haven’t had my mouth on you.”

Nora was on fire. Every inch of her. She let his belt go and yanked the hem of her skirt up instead, “After, please, I need-“

Nora might have found it interesting, the way they traded places. How suddenly Bucky could manage strings of filthy words and she could barely manage any. Except she was aching, half out of her mind with desperate want that only burned hotter when he kept talking.

“Need me?” He bit her neck, hard enough to make her whine.

“Yes.”

“Need my dick, sweetheart?” He rolled his hips once, grinding the hard length of him into her to illustrate his point.

Nora half-sobbed, “Yes, Bucky, I’m so-“

“What?” There was no easy lead-up, no trail of his hand, he just dropped it between them and cupped her pussy, swiped his thumb over her clit and hummed.

Her head fell back, the pleasure of it brutal and driving after spending half the day wanting his touch and getting nothing. It was so little, a few swipes of his thumb and she was halfway there.

“Fuckin’ wet. Perfect, baby.” He kissed her hard, his tongue sweeping through her mouth, “Go on. Take it.”

She got his meaning, pulling at his belt with fumbling hands. She got it undone, then his pants, shoving them down awkwardly with the lack of space. It didn’t matter, she had his cock in her hands, heavy and perfect.

His hand shifted as she stroked him and she bucked her hips to get it back, but there was a rip of fabric and then his touch met bare skin. He slid a finger into her and she couldn’t help the moan that jumped out of her lips.

Bucky’s answering groan was gorgeous, “Fuck, perfect, sweetheart.” He fucked her with one digit, then two, slowly. His thumb on her clit winding her impossibly close already. “Gonna take me?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” She didn’t have to beg long, he pulled his hand away and she expected a slow glide as he pressed his cock into her. He liked to go slow, be careful. Spend hours winding her up and taking her apart. Instead, he gave one hard jerk of his hips and was buried in her. It was all it took; she came hard with his name on her lips.

He kept going, snapping his hips and fucking her into the wall, “So good, Nora.” His pace was brutal, hard and driving and fucking perfect. She moaned into his shoulder, bit a line across his collarbone. “One more.”

She didn’t think she could and then he slid his hand between them again and she was right there, embarrassingly close at a handful of words and the touch of his fingers, his cock driving into her. She moaned his name into his neck.

“C’mon Sweetheart,” he muttered, voice low and growling, “Give it up.” He shifted, driving up into something perfect and circling his fingers and she did exactly what he told her to. She gripped his hair and pressed her mouth to his neck to keep from yelling.

He bit out a curse, yanked his hand free to slam against the hallway wall, and came along with her.

There was something possessive living in him. Now that she’d said she was his, he wanted to know that it was true. Wanted to hear her say it a half dozen more times. Wanted her to cry it out while he made her come.

It was very close, agonizingly so, to the other thing he wanted to hear. He lay in bed, his arms wrapped around Nora and let himself wonder.

He had carried her to bed and kissed the whole way across her body because he hadn’t been very gentle and he wanted to make up for it. Then he cleaned up the mess he’d made of her pussy until she cried as she came. He liked that. Liked that she said his name while she did. Liked that she kissed him after and stroked her hands through his hair.

He’d liked that she beat him at the stupid game they’d played earlier. Had bullied Clint into giving Darcy his gift. He liked when she gave Tony shit and sat wedged between him and Steve. He liked her blush when he cornered her in the bathroom.

He was in love with her.

When had that happened? A little at a time? When they’d been playing games in her apartment? Or watching movies in his? All at once when she had come to see him, injured in bed, and didn’t react at all to his scars? Had it been there the whole time? All the way back when he’d scribbled his name on her cast and she’d smiled up at him?

The feeling was so huge it hurt. He needed to let it out, tell her, but there were the claws again. The awful fear that was usually reserved for other things, hissing that if he said the words out loud, she wouldn’t and then she would be gone. It seemed wrong. He’d been getting better at recognizing it, when the fear was senseless. He could shove it aside and sit in a noisy room full of his friends because he was safe, despite what it hissed.

He was safe with Nora. He knew that. He’d always been safe with Nora. He just wasn’t ready to take the chance.

He slept, but only a little. Mostly he held her and ran his hands over her bare skin. Traced circles on her hip the way she sometimes did to him and stroked her hair. He lay in bed until she woke up, late and yawning.

Nora wiggled in his arms, and he remembered half a beat late to let her go. She rolled to face him, both hands brushing his skin and making him shiver as she reached up to take his face between them.

“Where do you get the recipes?”

“Hm?” She was so pretty, a smile already on her lips, he forgot to follow the question.

“All the cooking you’ve been doing! Where are the recipes from?”

Oh. “YouTube,” he’d found a channel with an older lady who made something different every few days. Nothing complicated. He liked her soft voice. It reminded him of his mom. He thought he should tell Nora that. And maybe that he’d started so he could make sure she ate properly, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth to say too much, his confession would slip out against his will.

“Makes sense. What kind of breakfasts has this YouTube chef been teaching you?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

He grinned at her, anxiety slipping away, “Crepes.”

Nora gasped, delighted, “Really? I’m so excited. Can we make them now? I don’t think I ate anything last night.”

“Bread,” He replied. That was all he’d seen but she was kind of trying to avoid his hands and he hadn’t been sure how to get her to eat anything else. She’d picked up some vegetables and then thrown them all at Tony. “Yes.”

She made a happy noise and threw the blanket back, kissing him as she rolled entirely over top of him and onto the floor.

“Nora-“ It was like getting shot. All the air punched out of him and his chest fucking hurt, jagged splinters that might’ve been broken rib or maybe just shame, cut through everything.

She stopped at his tone, spun to face him looking worried, “What? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t deserve her concern, “Your leg.” It came out strangled.

“What?” Nora asked. She twisted to look at the back of her thigh, right beneath the curve of her ass. At the three purple circles he was sure matched the fingers of his left hand.

She laughed. “Oh man, first the hickey now this. At least nobody can see them.” She turned and caught the look on his face.

He still felt like he’d been shot. How could she be laughing? He’d hurt her.

“Bucky, hey,” She took two steps back to the edge of the bed. He wanted to run away, did flinch when she reached for his hand. She frowned and hopped up to sling her leg over his lap. She leant forward to put her hands on his face again, “You did not hurt me.”

“I did-“

“No.” She cut him off firmly, “You did not. Did you hear me say ‘ouch’ last night? No. Because I didn’t. Because it didn’t hurt. You’ve never hurt me.”

She hadn’t, never made a single noise that made him think she might be uncomfortable, but the evidence was right there on her skin.

“I’m serious Bucky. If something hurt, I would say so. I’m bound to have a bruise, that's just how gravity works when you’re being held up by one hand,” she dropped her right hand to take his left. He let her despite the awful churning in his stomach. She kissed his metal fingers, “I am fine. And I need you to believe me.”

He didn’t know how he could, but he couldn’t deny her either. “Okay.” She kissed him, gently. Squeezed his metal hand so he could feel the pressure of it. He believed her. Of course she would tell him. He still felt a little sick.

“You’re always gentle with me,” she muttered, “I like that you were a little less careful yesterday.” She kissed him again, “You know that I did.”

He did know that. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” She replied, “I don’t want you to feel bad because I bruise like a peach.”

He considered that. It wasn’t untrue. He’d found bruises on her before, usually at her hip, where she’d bounced off a piece of furniture. She was always annoyed at the furniture, but she wasn’t annoyed at him. Some of the sick feeling ebbed away.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He promised.

“Will you?” She asked, “Can you do it with crepes?”

“Yes.” He kissed her.