Chapter 3
"Fuck, doll. You're so sexy like this."
When “two” breathlessly passes your lips, your whole body is warm, sensitive, lighting up like a bulb. You’re surprising yourself with just how much you’re enjoying it, how much yearning is circulating in your bloodstream for his touch. You didn’t realise just how badly you wanted - needed his hands all over you like this.
Marking you up. Claiming you. His.
Your can’t help but moan: three, four, five, the sounds from both your mouth and his hand are echoing throughout the room. You know he’s holding back, being gentler with his left hand than he would've been with his right. But you’re a mess anyway, from his voice, his hand, him. You’re coming undone by him and ordinarily you would be embarrassed by it — but you’ve never felt this electrified before, it’s resonating in your bones and you're crying out for him.
“There’s a good girl,” he says to you, leaning over to press a kiss to the small of your back. “Just a few more, okay doll?”
You’re nodding into the sheets, loving the praise that he’s giving you and not understanding how you could want a person this much — how you could want him this much; a man you had hated only a week ago. You feel like if he doesn’t touch you right now — have you right now — that you’re simply going to explode.
Six is a gasp, your hips squirming in his lap as you seek out any kind of friction that he can give you. He stills your movements with a practically bruising grip on your waist. The ache inside of you has graduated into a steady thrum that you seem to feel in your entire body now.
Seven never comes. And. You. Could. Scream.
Your phone is ringing.
It trills through a now deathly silent room, the only sounds being the panting of your breath.
You’re about to swear, to swipe your phone off the table and hurl it at the wall. You don’t even care if it breaks, thinking that you could just get Tony to fix it anyway.
“Answer it.”
Bucky’s voice is firm, commanding even. You know what kind of man is speaking to you right now and tingles are running down your spine. Yes, Sergeant.
“I don’t want to,” you respond, sniffling only slightly. “Just ignore it.”
Bucky’s metal fingers card through your hair and he pulls your head up by a fistful of it. The burn in your scalp coupled with the burn of your ass is just so good. You can’t help yourself from letting a whimper pass through your throat.
His lips brush over your cheek, “I thought I told you to answer it.”
He releases you and you reach forward, grabbing your phone from where you had tossed it on his bedside table. Oh fucking hell. It’s Peter.
You slide your thumb across the screen and answer.
“Hey Pete,” you say into the phone, clearing your throat to sound a little less hoarse, a little less breathless.
“Hey honey!” he shouts down the phone cheerily and you can hear the sounds of the club in the background. Bucky tenses under you as soon as he hears Peter’s affectionate nickname for you. “It’s late, where are you?”
Oh shit. You had never told him you weren’t going to come.
“Fuck Petey, sorry,” you start to apologise. “Something came up and shit—”
You shriek as Bucky lands seven on you — mostly from surprise than from any real pain. You try to jerk away from him but he holds you tightly in his grip. Only now do you understand what kind of game he’s starting to play with you and you just know that he’s brimming with jealousy again.
“Hello? What happened?” Pete’s voice is full of concern and worry, thinking that you’re hurt somewhere. “Wait guys, shut up. What’s wrong? Are you okay—”
“I’m fine, Pete,” you murmur into the phone, shooting Bucky a positively murderous glare. He just laughs at you in response and you can’t help but think that you’ve hardly ever heard him laugh before. You’ve been bringing out sides of him that you've never seen and... and it's making your heart flutter.
“No, Pete really I’m okay,” you try to convince him. “I just stubbed my toe, that’s all.”
“Are you sure? I can leave and come to you if—”
“No!” you shout quickly and then gasp as Bucky takes the opportunity to land eight. You chew your bottom lip to stop any other sounds from leaving your throat. Unfortunately, because you can’t speak — you can’t say goodbye and hang up on Peter either.
“Listen, I know that you’re not too thrilled about some of my university friends,” Peter says into the phone and you can hear that he’s walking somewhere quieter, outside maybe. “Especially after what happened last time.”
Oh no. Oh, no. Peter can’t talk about that, not right here, not now.
“It’s not that,” you start quickly, trying to intercept him. You scrunch your eyes closed when you feel Bucky’s cold, metallic finger start to run through your folds. He circles your clit a few times before removing his hand completely to further tease you.
“I promise that Zack’s not here,” Peter continues, trying to win you over. “And none of the others will try and hit on you anymore, I’ve warned them all.”
Bucky pinches your bum as the words leave Peter’s mouth. You shift so that you can look at Bucky’s face and gauge his reaction. You can see the jealousy on his face, scrunching his eyebrows together as he shoots you an annoyed look. You decide that if he’s going to mess with you — well, it’s only fair that he gets his share, right?
“Is your other friend there? The one with the blond hair?” you say into the phone, grinning as Bucky’s shoulders tighten. “Now, that’s someone I wouldn’t mind groping me on the danceflo— oh!”
Nine. You huff a half-laugh, half-gasp, loving that you’re getting to him this way. If you only knew how jealous he was before, it would have opened up a lot more doors for you.
“Wait what? You never told me you liked him!” Peter’s laughs. “I thought you were more into the brown-hair, brooding type.”
“I can make an exception for— oh shit.”
Bucky’s hand reaches down and he starts rubbing his finger over your clit with more conviction now. He couldn’t be more obvious with how he’s trying to assert his claim over you. It’s taking everything in you not to make any sounds, your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles are turning white.
You can feel how wet you are as he spreads your legs wider, can feel how much of a mess he’s making you. You would be embarrassed about it ordinarily, that he has you trembling like this — but he has spread you out over his lap after all and you can feel his own interest poking into you through his pants. It dulls whatever embarrassment that would’ve been building inside of you.
“He is here you know,” Peter continues, oblivious to what’s going on. “I’m pretty sure he’ll do whatever you want if you wear that short skirt that Nat bought for you.”
“Well in that case, maybe I’ll swing by then,” you say softly into the phone, your voice on the verge of wavering.
“Can play with me as much as you want, babydoll,” Bucky rumbles softly to you so that Peter doesn’t hear him. “But this—” he punctuates his sentence by sinking his finger all the way into you, curling it a few times and hitting that spot inside of you that has you whimpering. “This, is all mine.”
He removes his finger from you and brings it his lips, sucking it clean whilst he stares into your eyes. “And I don’t share.”
You have to stop yourself from downright moaning into the receiver of the phone.
“Okay, bye Peter!” you say in a rush and you hang up the phone before Bucky can do anything else to further your humiliation.
If Peter only knew that you were in the lap of the very same man that you had often complained to him about… Well, you were curious to know what he’d say about it that’s for sure.
“I actually hate you, Barnes,” you mutter, tossing the phone back onto the table. He tries to stop you from sitting up but you swat his hands away angrily, perching on your knees beside him as you glare.
Your irritation is just amusing to him at this point. He shoots you a fake pout, before he pinches your chin between his fingers and leans in close to you. You try to pretend that your breath doesn’t hitch from the close contact, that your eyes don’t shift down to his plump lips.
“If you hate me so much,” he whispers to you, his voice dropping into a dangerously low octave as he speaks. “Then tell me why you’ve been dripping all over my lap.”
And you want to swoon at those words, swoon at the way he’s talking to you right now. You really would never have pegged him to be someone as perpetually silent as him to be capable of speech like this.
You swallow as he pierces you with those steel-blue eyes of his and his eyes drift down as he watches the bob of your throat. You can’t believe that you’re really here and doing this with him right now.
You reach forward, hands going to the hem of his shirt as you shift your weight on your knees. He catches your hand in his left one, the metal fingers gleaming in the light as they close around your small wrist.
“Uh uh,” he chides. “You’ve got one left, don’t you?”
Your ass must be a sight right now and you can only imagine that it’s red and bruised and your knees clench together as the thought of the shape of his hand being imprinted there. A brand that you’re his.
“I think I’d rather just have you now,” you tell him instead and he raises his eyebrows at you. “I think you’ve done enough to prove your point this evening.”
He smirks at you, his lips so close to your own now that they brush over each other. “And what point is that?”
You force yourself not to blush; you refuse to let him get to you anymore that he already has tonight.
“That apparently,” you smile, “you’re extremely jealous.”
“Hmmm,” he hums at you, hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His other arm snakes around your waist and he’s tugging you into his lap and you have to bite your lip at the fact that your underwear is currently sitting across the room. “As long as you know.”
He closes the space between your lips, pulls your face into his own and kisses you fervently. You sigh into it, hands tangling in his hair, balling up his shirt. Whatever bubble the two of you are in right now — you don’t want it to ever pop.
He’s running one of his hands along the side of your body, reaching up to cup one of your clothed breasts through the shirt that you’re wearing.
“Buck, I just want you now,” you tell him a little desperately. “Stop teasing.”
"Want you too, doll," he says gruffly. "Have for so long now."
You’re about to guide his hands under your shirt, direct his attention to unclasping your bra so that you can feel his touch better when —
Knock, knock, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
“What?” Bucky shouts, anger in his voice because someone’s interrupting you two. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you a little closer into his chest. You can’t help but smile as you realise that he’s unconsciously being protective over you. He’s going to kill whoever is on the other side of that door for interrupting. “I’m busy, go away!”
“You can jack off later!” comes Sam’s voice through the door. The door handle twists and your blood freezes. He can’t catch you like this, straddling Bucky’s waist. You sigh in relief when the handle jams and say a silent prayer of thanks that Bucky was smart enough to lock the door.
“Walker’s called us in to see something,” Sam says. He mentions that he already tried your room and couldn’t find you. “I think she’s out with Peter but it’s fine. I think John will be more of a pain in our ass if she comes anyway so we can at least spare her the annoyance.”
You scowl, rolling your eyes as your blood heats. “You’re not even going to say anything about that?”
“What do you want me to say?” Bucky whispers back to you. “He’s trying to do you a favour by not asking you to come.”
“He doesn’t want me to come because John will be a pig about it,” you mutter in anger, “who thinks I can’t deal with whatever it is.”
“So you want me to just bring you along anyway? So you can prove some point?” Bucky asks irritably, helping you off of him.
“You know what? Forget it, Barnes.”
You roll off of the bed and walk over to where your underwear is laying, pulling it up your legs. You hear Bucky’s breath hitch from behind you as you bend over to perform the action but you’re too angry with him right now to gloat about it.
Sam yells, “c’mon dude, open the door! We gotta go.”
“Give me a second!” Bucky calls back.
He turns his attention to you and gestures for you to stand behind the door so that Sam can’t see you.
“I don’t know why you care about John’s opinion so much anyway,” he says roughly, one hand on the door handle and getting ready to open it. “None of us do and we know that you’re—”
“Just leave it,” you snap quietly. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Goddammit you are so fucking difficult,” he huffs to himself. “Maybe it’s better that you can't co…”
He stops himself before the sentence finds its end but you've heard enough of it. You scoff at him and let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Oh, fuck you Barnes,” you snarl.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Bucky! We GOT TO GO. What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m coming!” Bucky shouts, then in a gentler voice, “listen, we’ll talk about this when I’m back.”
“I’m pretty sure we just did talk about it,” you say angrily, crossing your arms and turning away from him.
“Oh for fucks sake,” he swears under his breath and swings the door open, meeting Sam head-on. “Hey, let’s go.”
You pout in the corner of his room for a few minutes, just to make sure they’re really gone and you can’t get caught when you sneak out of Bucky’s room and into your own.
Your cunt’s still a mess — all of you is, really — and you decide to hop into the shower. You scowl when you notice the purpling bruises that Bucky’s left on your hips, all over the soft flesh on the inside of your thighs. You don't even want to look at your ass in the mirror. The skin stings slightly when you rub your hand over it.
You’ve never been more confused as you try to consolidate your feelings for him; the familiar anger and hatred that you used to harbour for him has resurfaced — just now it’s coupled with so much want.
It probably doesn’t help that you spend the rest of your shower cumming on your fingers and gasping his name.