Waving the final patient goodbye, followed with a cheery ‘Merry Christmas,’ you close and lock the door, breathing a sigh of relief.
The practice is technically closed today and tomorrow, but owners are allowed to pick up their discharge-ready pets today, Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is reserved for you and your husband.
None of your inpatients are critical which means tonight you can relax, hence date-night and a day of pampering for you both tomorrow.
The only downside to running a successful private veterinary practice, vacation getaways are not an option. Even if you shut down for a week, animals need to eat and take their medicine.
Plus it’s your home. You and Bucky purchased this beautiful stone house shortly after marrying and renovated it to suit your needs, planning to live on the upper levels and run operations on the ground floor.
Glancing out the windows as you organize the waiting room, your relief turns to trepidation. This time of year the weather could be unpredictable to say the least, and the purple-grey clouds churning outside did not hold hope of a calm evening.
“Hey Bucky?” you call for your husband doing paperwork in the back room, walking back to keep from yelling needlessly.
“Yeah babe?”
Even after all these years, that pet name, and its variations, fills your stomach with butterflies. He sits at the chaotically organized desk with his glasses on, hunched over a patient chart, ensuring everything is correct. Truthfully he could go with the eyewear, but after a long day staring at a screen, they help keep his eyes from straining.
You love them. They remind you of when you first met at university, the fates of the universe putting you in the same biology lab group. That shy, blue-eyed boy who couldn’t meet your eyes until halfway through the semester. It started with study dates for midterms, then finals, then bringing each other coffee before shared morning classes, then him finally asking you to be his after that first summer apart. The rest is history.
Scooting his chair back, he gently pulls you to sit on his lap, kissing your knuckles.
“Have you checked the weather?” you ask him, opening the weather app on your phone.
“No,” shaking his head, “Why?” he questions.
When you show him the forecast and radar, warnings of severe snow and ice heading your way, he huffs in frustration. Tonight was going to be your first night out together in weeks. But with this weather prediction, traveling even just to town could be dangerous. “I’ll call the restaurant.”
Your fingers gently card through his soft, fluffy hair as you place a kiss on his temple. “Better safe than sorry,” you agree, moving to continue cleaning up.
His arm tightens around your waist, keeping you seated. “What if we did a stay-home date?” he suggests.
“What do you mean?”
“Both of us get dressed like we were going out but we just stay here. Have a little picnic in front of the fireplace,” he elaborates, stroking your thigh. “There are plenty of leftovers in the fridge. No need to cook. We could make a night of it.”
A smile breaks out across your face at the thought. You carefully remove his glasses before planting a sweet kiss on his pink lips. “I love it.”
You clink your wine glass with Bucky’s, sipping the red liquid while admiring your beautiful husband. He’s dressed in your favorite suit. The blue one that brings out his eyes.
Those same eyes that rake over your attire. A simple dress with a loose skirt and lace accents that cover your shoulder down past your elbow, as well as your bosom. If you and Bucky had gone to the restaurant as planned, you would have donned warm leggings and knee-high boots.
But staying at home instead meant you could alter the outfit…a little.
“You know? I think I like this better,” you comment, sitting on a pillow by the fire, heels discarded to the side.
“How’s that?” His tie is gone, the first couple of buttons of his dress shirt undone, giving you a teasing view of his collarbone and the hair peppering his broad chest.
“Well…” You set your glass next to the dirty plates on the coffee table. “At the restaurant, I could do this,” you place two fingers under his chin, drawing him into a chaste kiss. “But this,” your other hand moves up his thigh, cupping his growing bulge briefly before dipping your fingers just below his waistband, barely grazing his leaking tip, “would be frowned upon.”
Bucky chases your touch as you abruptly retreat, eyes darkening at your teasing.
Retrieving your glass, “Mrs. Jones would certainly have a thing or two to say about that,” you bring it to your mouth.
Before the wine could pass through your lips, Bucky takes the glass by the stem and places it and his back on the table.
Without much other warning, he grasps your hips to pull you across his lap, earning a surprised squeal, and seizes your lips in a heated kiss. Licking his tongue into your mouth, his hands trail up your legs to your core, groaning when he finds you bare and already wet.
The lace stockings you wore stop mid-thigh and, realizing you wouldn’t be venturing into the cold, you opted to forego the panties from the set.
“Another perk,” you whisper, unbuttoning his dress shirt and pushing it and the jacket off his shoulders. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck to his chest as he pulls your dress over your head, making quick work of your bra.
“The stockings stay,” he rasps when you unbuckle his belt and start palming his cock over his boxers.
A deep groan rumbes through his chest as he lays you back on the floor, cradling your head protectively. “Need you now, babygirl.” Shimmying out of his pants, he runs his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. “Think you can take me?”
You nod vigorously. “Please, Bucky.”
He eases in, watching your face as he gets deeper with each small thrust, singing praises in your ear.
“Doing so well, baby.”
“Just a little more.”
“God, you feel so good. So good for me.”
Pausing when he’s fully sheathed, he takes a shuddering breath, forearms braced by your head as your walls stretch to accommodate him, already squeezing like a vice.
You breathe with him, holding his face to yours as you relax. Soon you’re making small movements with your hips, silently asking him to move.
He pulls out painstakingly slow, letting you feel every ridge, until only his tip remains, sliding back in your heat just as slowly. Each thrust slightly quicker than the last until he finds a strong, steady pace that has you clinging to his shoulders.
Your nails scratch down Bucky’s back, leaving red marks in their wake.
Groaning from the sharp, erotic sting, he moves your hands above your head, trapping them in his strong grip, fingers intertwined.
“Bucky,” you plead, wanting to touch your husband, hold him closer as he fucks you mercilessly.
“Later babydoll,” slowing his pace, he snaps his hips harder, shooting sparks of pure bliss up your spine.
Though you lost the use of your hands, you have other tricks to tease him with. Locking your ankles over Bucky’s tailbone and tilting your hips up, you clench with all your might, pride beaming when Bucky’s eyes widen.
He drops his head to shoulder, choking out a grunt as his rhythm falters. “Fuck darlin’. Don’t do that.”
You chuckle breathlessly in triumph, gasping when he moves with renewed vigor, grinding his hips against your core every few thrusts.
Moaning into his mouth as he presses his forehead against yours, you try to meet him thrust for thrust, but can’t keep up. Wrists struggle futilely against his strong grasp, craving his skin under your fingertips, your head fuzzy as the coil in your belly tightens every time Bucky brushes that spongy spot.
Even through the haze, you can feel Bucky’s movements turning desperate, cock twitching when your walls start squeezing harder than ever. Beads of sweat drip from his chest to yours, face flushed and scrunched with pleasure as he drives deeper with every stroke, unable to get enough of your pussy pulsing around him. He’s just as addicted to you as you are to him.
“Babygirl, I need you to cum,” Bucky whines in your ear. “Please.” He lets go of one hand to rub small circles on your clit, pushing his palm against your belly. Mouth latching onto your neck, nipping the sensitive spot that always drives you wild. “Come on, cum for me.”
Two more hard, erratic thrusts, and your eyes roll back, chanting your lover’s name as unadulterated pleasure courses through your veins. Your free hand claws his ribs as you clamp onto the muscle where his neck meets his shoulder, barely muffling your high-pitched mewls as that coil snaps.
Almost indiscernible over the ringing in your ears, Bucky lets out a strangled moan, the sharp ache of your bite sending him over the edge. Squeezing your hand still trapped in his metal one, he keeps circling his thumb frantically, working you back to the edge.
“One more,” he begs, hips still grinding against you. “One more, babygirl.”
Before the first wave even begins to dissipate, a fresh one takes over, smaller but no less intense. Your warm walls constricting around him pulls another guttural moan from the man above you.
His lips find yours as he prolongs your highs with short, lazy thrusts until you’re both trembling and over sensitive, metal arm just barely holding himself up from crushing you.
Panting heavily, he rolls to his side, taking you with him and slipping out with a groan from you both.
Eventually, your mind starts to clear. His gentle touch caresses your side, raising goosebumps on your skin despite the warmth from the fire. Focusing on Bucky’s breathing, you hear him mumble something.
“You ok, doll?”
Nodding, you open your eyes to find his staring back.
“There you are,” he smiles, stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead. “Wait here.”
Bucky covers you with a blanket and disappears for a moment. You feel his footsteps vibrate through the floor as he moves about, but you can’t quite make out what he’s up to.
Just when curiosity gets to be too much, Bucky returns to you, still naked. You bite your lip, smirking as your gaze roams over his beautiful body, lingering on certain areas more than others.
Bucky rolls his eyes as he lifts you in his arms, discarding the blanket with a chuckle. “Down girl.”
He carries you to your shared bathroom where the bath was already filling the large tub.
Perhaps the most luxury purchase you made when buying appliances during the renovation was the Jacuzzi-esque bathtub in the master bathroom. It’s large enough for two people to comfortably sit with all body parts submerged (yes, it covers your boobs and your knees at the same time). With various relaxing jet settings and a shower wand, it’s a perfect way to unwind after a stressful day at the clinic.
Setting you down on your feet, legs still jello-like, Bucky helps you out of your stockings and into the tub. A smug smirk adorning his features as he steps in behind you.
The steaming water instantly soothes your sore muscles, both from the hectic work-life the past several weeks and your recent rendezvous. The vanilla candles calm your mind and the lavender bubbles nearly put you asleep.
“Let me take care of you,” your husband murmurs in your ear.
You hum in contentment, melting into Bucky’s embrace as he gently washes your body with a cloth, taking care where you’re still sensitive to his touch.
His fingers rub small circles from your hairline to the crown of your head and back again while he washes and conditions your hair, using the shower wand to rinse the soap away. Blunt fingernails and metal tips lightly scratching your scalp are pure heaven.
When his lips meet your neck, you turn around to give him the same treatment, knees framing his hips under the water.
“Sorry,” you grimace, carefully washing the dark bruise forming from your bite. You can’t recall ever marking him so harshly in your years together. A shimmer of guilt pools in your stomach the longer you stare.
“It’s alright, baby,” he whispers, soothing your worries with a kiss, smiling against your lips. “I like it.”
He hisses quietly, head resting on your chest as you gently knead the scarred skin where black metal meets flesh. Easing the deep tension from the surrounding muscles. Even the most advanced prosthetic in the world has its drawbacks.
Reaching around to follow the seam along his shoulder blade, you chuckle when he grabs your ass in both hands, bringing you impossibly closer. “So eager, Mr. Barnes,” you tease, feeling cock semi-hard beneath you.
“Always for you, Mrs. Barnes.” His arms lift you effortlessly, lowering you onto him slowly, eliciting soft groans from you both. “Always for you,” he mumbles under his breath.
Pausing to adjust for a heartbeat or two, breathing heavily as he twitches in your warmth, filling you more with each passing moment, you reach for the wand to rinse his hair before lathering shampoo through his chestnut locks.
Bucky remains latched to your chest, lavishing the soft flesh with his tongue and lips. His slight scruff chafes against your breasts, leaving behind a delicious burn as he marks you with little nips. He groans every time your fingers catch a knot or your nails scratch just a bit harder than before.
When he starts circling your hips in time with his tongue swirling around your nipple, you nearly drop the wand in the water.
“Bucky,” you breathe, “not done.”
“Don’t care.” His voice is muffled against your chest. “‘M not stopping. Need you.”
You quickly finish washing out the conditioner and replace the wand, hugging his shoulders as he grinds your hips harder, bringing you to the precipice of ecstasy.
“Eyes on me, doll.” He holds your gaze, movements quiet but passionate. The low jets stir the hot water more than his hips. “Want to see you fall apart.”
You cradle his face between your hands, body quivering in his arms, unable to look away from his intense stare as your climax overwhelms you.
He looks away first, letting you observe the precise moment his coil snaps, jaw clenching before going slack, head tipping back to rest on the edge of the tub. His hips buck hard enough to lift your body out of the water as he spills into you.
Slotting your mouth over his, your tongue passes through his lips with ease in his euphoric state, swallowing the soft noises meant just for you.
“I love you,” he murmurs when you break for air, chests heaving together.
“I love you, too, Bucky,” stroking his hair as you smile. “So much.”
Once you two manage to leave the tub, after washing each other clean again, and behaving this time…mostly, you go about getting ready for bed.
You dry each other off, laughing as Bucky does his best to towel your hair, reaching to do the same to his, and don your comfy, warm robes. Your nightly routine is hindered only slightly by Bucky’s inability to keep his hands off of you.
He stays close behind you as you move about, his free hand always on your hip. When you finish, he wraps both arms across your chest, nuzzling his face in your neck, breathing you in.
Guiding you to the bed, he pulls the knot tying your robe together, tossing the garment to the floor, his own joining soon after.
“You’re insatiable, Bucky,” you tease.
“You complainin’?” he mumbles against your skin. While his lips graze over every inch, giving you chills, his hands deftly massage your thighs and calves. Kneading away the tension before the strain could settle and cause you discomfort tomorrow.
You sigh, relaxing further under his soothing touch. “Course not.” Your hands card through his damp hair as he continues worshiping your body. Every scar, stretch mark, and flaw that used to make you question Bucky’s attraction to you.
He’s beauty incarnate, why would he fall for you of all people?
A few months in of officially being a couple and you brought it up, after a few too many drinks in your defense. After that night, Bucky never let you forget how beautiful and stunning you are. Even when you finally started to believe him, he never failed to remind you.
“Bucky?”
“Hmm?” His lips stay on your hips, eyes closed as he answers.
“Stay in me tonight?” you whisper, almost embarrassed. It wasn’t an unusual act. You love falling asleep feeling as close as possible to the love of your life, waking up to him still inside you.
However, usually it was Bucky asking. Craving your warm walls surrounding him, even if it led to nothing more. He just wanted to be as close as humanly possible, and closer.
Bucky glances up, eyebrow raising at your request, but says nothing as his lips find their way to your pussy, tongue licking a flat stripe through your folds.
He knows your body better than you do. How to have you writhing beneath him, begging to cum from his talented mouth. Or how to simply make you feel good. Every languid lick and quiet hum fills your body with sweet bliss as he gently pleasures you.
The soft little moans that escape you, despite his gentleness, go straight to his cock. When you’re wet enough to take him comfortably, he noses up your torso, grazing his lips over yours as he whispers, “Front or back?”
“Front,” you breathe out. Sleeping on Bucky’s chest, with his strong heartbeat thumping under you was your favorite way to slumber.
He nods, moving you both under the covers. Capturing your lips, he lines his cock with your pussy and slowly pushes in.
You gasp at the familiar stretch, walls still sensitive, groaning when your tongues meld, sharing the taste of your arousal. Breaking apart when he’s fully seated, you bask in the shared intimacy, eyes fluttering as sleep begins to overtake.
Bucky holds you close as he rolls onto his back, letting you sprawl over him. He softly strokes your back as you nod off, kissing your temple. “Goodnight, babygirl. Merry Christmas.”
You mumble something along the lines of the same, too far gone to properly form words. You can tell him tomorrow.