Chapter 6
When you wake up the next morning, it’s in a bed with black sheets tangled around your form and in a room that is quite definitely not yours. But you’re warm, cozy — a little sore in all the right places — and most noticeably: alone.
You let out a little puff of annoyance as you reach over and run your hand over the other half of the bed, feeling for his warmth and pouting when you stroke over cold sheets and a cold pillow. By this indication, he’s been gone a while.
What’s the point of sleeping in his bed if he’s not going to be there when you wake up?
But then you let out a loud laugh at such a ridiculous thought. Oh, there’s definitely other benefits to sleeping in his bed. Last night after dinner and after you had cleaned up, you had snuck yourself into his room and climbed right into bed with him. He had grinned, dragging you closer and kissing you fervently — which had then of course escalated into him rolling you over and having you twice before you both settled into a deep, sated, sleep.
Still, even though you both had cuddled the entire night, you want morning kisses and the warmth of his body next to you. Plus, you figured that you could wriggle your body under the pretence of getting comfortable and get the man all worked up instead — leading to some pretty lascivious activities. When had you become so greedy?
You stretch yourself out lazily in his bed, preparing to wake up and start your day. You’re still naked under the sheets since he had practically ripped your pyjamas off of you last night and flung them somewhere in the room. You’re lucky that the two of you are the only ones on this floor and the fact that you had snuck over in those thin, short and all too enticing scraps of clothing wasn’t a scandal that anyone else could be accidentally privy to.
Your phone chirps quietly on his nightstand which brings you out of your contented haze and into reality again. And then it chirps multiple times afterward which makes you scowl and roll over to grab it.
[PETEY-PIE]: good morning gorgeous. i almost want to bet money that you’re waking up with some… company today
[PETEY-PIE]: btw that dick that you don’t like is coming round the tower later this afternoon. heard sam talk about it when i left an hour ago
[PETEY-PIE]: so if you want to escape, my apartment is yours. you know where the spare key is. i’ll be back around 2ish to entertain you :)
[PETEY-PIE]: and yes, before you ask, i was too drunk to swing myself home last night. and also yes, we WILL be speaking about whatever the fuck happened at dinner
You want to cringe over the idea that John Walker is coming back over to the tower today. Not only could you not stand to be around him, you seriously feared for his safety too… because a prolonged interaction with you was definitely going to end with your fist in his face.
[YOU]: fucking hell. thanks for telling me
[YOU]: also, noooo idea what you’re talking about :) i have woken up alone (true) and i had a perfectly normal dinner experience last night
[PETEY-PIE]: PLEASE. i may have been drunk but i swear the tension was radiating off of you both in hot steamy waves
You giggle to yourself, rolling over to lie on your tummy as you type back a response to Peter. The sheets have dropped to your waist, leaving your bare breasts exposed to the cold air as you tap away on your phone. Your half-covered body in his bed is how he finds you when he comes back.
You look up as the door opens and you’re not sure if your nipples harden from the chill in the air or from the way he’s looking at you. He stands in the doorway for a couple moments longer, feasting on the sight of you in his bed like this, before he kicks it shut and removes the earphones from his ears.
He’s clearly come back from his usual morning run; he’s shirtless and the sweat is gleaming off of the many rows of hard muscle that make up his entire body. The thought of licking your way across that set of abs crosses your mind.
“Hmm, I could get used to the sight of this,” he says darkly, his voice deeper and gruffer than usual as his eyes flick downwards to take you in. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly it sends a bolt of lightning through your body, settling in your lower half. Your legs involuntarily clamp together underneath the sheets.
“Could you now?” You had wanted the words to come out in a sultry tone, but they leave your mouth as more of a choke. The attentive way he is looking at you has your whole body responding accordingly.
“Mmm doll,” he replies, emptying his pockets and settling everything down in a slow and calculated manner, “I don’t think there’s any better way for me to start my day.”
He doesn’t break eye-contact for a second as he sets the things down. Watching you in the same intense way a leopard would watch an antelope.
You’re still laying on your tummy with your phone in your hands, an unsent jab of response to Peter flashing in the text box. You click your phone off, reaching forward to put it back safely on the nightstand before things get out of hand. He follows your actions with his gaze the whole time but doesn’t budge from where he’s standing.
Your hard nipples graze against the sheets from your movements, making you stifle a whine and positively sending him hurtling over the edge of any composure that he was feigning to have. He crosses the room over to you in just a few long strides, perching himself on the edge of the bed and pushing at your shoulder so that you fall onto your back, your head resting comfortably on a pillow.
The sheets have gathered up around your midsection, keeping just a morsel of yourself covered as his eyes lap over the sight of you.
"Hello Sergeant," you grin at him, enjoying the way his eyes seem to darken as the title leaves your mouth.
You reach out with your arms, tugging him toward you and angling for his lips to meet yours. He comes as you pull at him — but ignores your lips and instead latches himself straight onto your left nipple. You gasp at the unexpected shock of it, your hand fisting into his hair as your back arches off the bed in response.
He sucks harshly at your left breast and squeezes the neglected one in his right hand, the metal hand clutching your hip in a bruising grip. He rolls your nipple between his fingers whilst tugging at the other with his teeth and you’re practically squirming from all this attention.
You can’t stop the moan that shudders its way out of your body when he rips the sheets from the rest of your body, slotting his knee in between your thighs and rocking you gently onto it.
You bring your lip between your teeth as he kisses his way up the side of your body — tracing the marks he left last night with his tongue. You on the other hand, are shamelessly grinding against his thigh, your nails digging into the skin of his back. You look down to watch as he leaves an indentation of his teeth along your hipbone, your fingers sifting through his soft brown hair. He groans quietly when you tug at it, his palm settling against your inner thigh and coaxing your legs open for him.
”You want to cum against my thigh, sweetheart? Or are you okay to go again so soon?” he asks in a hushed tone by your ear, his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "Don't want to break ya. Not completely anyways."
As much as you don’t want to stop grinding against his leg, you know it’ll be so much better with him inside you.
You reach out, running your hand against the massive bulge that’s quite prominent in his running shorts.
“I’m okay to go again,” you reassure him, your hand venturing past his waistband and gripping him. He groans as you do, his head falling to rest against your shoulder as he bucks into your hand and tries to find some relief. You can't help but love that he can pretend as much as he wants but you know that he is coming completely undone by you.
“You will be the death of me, doll,” he utters as you stroke him slowly. “But I can’t think of a better way to go other than buried in that sweet cunt of yours.”
You whine as the words leave him, your hips pressing harder against his thigh as arousal floods you. He pulls away slightly — not far enough that your grip on his cock loosens — but far enough that he can reach between your thighs and rub circles directly onto your clit.
Your body involuntarily jerks as you react to his touch, your teeth sinking into your lip as you breathe heavier. He removes his knee from your centre and you whine at the loss of friction for about two seconds before he replaces it with his fingers. He teases at your entrance, driving you even more wild with the sheer desperation of needing more.
Bucky is as turned on as you are: he’s rock-hard in your grip. You squeeze him gently at the base of his shaft before you pull him free from his running shorts completely. This allows you to stroke at him better, to rub your thumb against his tip and have him utter swears in a foreign language. He jerks forward in your hand, his own fingers sinking their way into you as he tries to reciprocate.
“Always so wet,” he groans, “fuck and so tight.”
You know that if he keeps talking in that husky, deep voice of his that you won't be able to stop yourself from cumming.
A third finger sinks its way into you and you arch off the bed, canting your hips for more even though the stretch is heavenly.
“Feels so good Sergeant,” you choke out, eyes scrunching closed as he curls them inside of you. He finds that spot in you that has you squeaking, his palm flattening against your clit and providing an overwhelmingly good amount of stimulation.
"Eyes open," he commands and fuck, you're so close.
You're about to tell him that but there's no need. He knows your body well now, knows from the litany of sounds you're making and from the way that you're shamelessly bucking yourself onto his fingers.
“Are you going to cum, doll?” he asks you, his voice strained as your hand picks up its pace and you start stroking him faster. “Cum all over my fingers like the good little slut that you are? Make a mess all over my sheets, hmm?”
”Yes," you breathe out, arching off the bed as you feel yourself getting closer.
You let out a yelp of shock as he smacks your breast. "Yes, what?"
You have to admit, you really do like defying him.
"Yes," you repeat, a ghost of a smirk starting to form at your lips, "Bucky."
He lets out a deep sigh as if he is just horribly disappointed in you.
"Oh, doll. Didn't realise you wanted to be such a brat this morning."
But he doesn't punish you. You expected him to stop, to chide you - maybe roll you over and make your ass bright red from his hand (and you would be lying if you said that you didn't want exactly that). But he doesn't do any of this. Instead he speeds up his fingers, curling them inside you in just the right spot that has you going absolutely hysterical.
You're so close to cumming, you just need a little bit more and he knows. His thumb at your clit as your hand wrapping around his wrist in some desperate attempt at grounding yourself. You're almost there, just about to teeter over the edge when he slips his fingers out of you.
”No,” you gasp, upset about the ruined orgasm. You can feel your cunt fluttering slightly in discontent at the loss of stimulation.
But the bastard only grins and replies: “only good girls get to cum."
"I'm sorry," you whimper out instead, so desperate that you can't even pretend to be embarrassed about it. "I'm sorry, Sergeantplease."
"Tsk tsk tsk, doll," he tuts at you. "If you want it, I want you to beg properly."
You squeeze his large cock in your hands. "Please. Fuck, I want to cum on your cock Sergeant. You always feel so good inside me. Please fuck me."
He pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger. You know it's his way of telling you that he wants more. "I promise I'll be good. Please I just want to cum."
“Good girls always do,” he praises, moving his way down the bed and positioning himself between your legs. “And you were so good last night, taking me so well. Cumming exactly when I told you to.”
Your breath catches as he speaks, the deep octave of his voice doing positively wicked things to your aching core.
He’s about to lower himself down, tongue about to lap at your centre when FRIDAY’s voice shatters the moment. If you ever wanted to let out a howl of sheer frustration — it would’ve been now.
”Sergeant Barnes,” she speaks into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt but I thought you would like to be informed that Captain Rogers is looking for you.”
Bucky lets out a deep, irritable sigh at her interruption, his cock twitching against your inner thigh. “Where is he?”
“He’s exiting the elevator on this floor,” FRIDAY says, “he will be arriving any moment.”
”Oh fuck!” you yelp and jerk to sit upright whilst Bucky slips himself back into his own shorts. Bucky barely has enough time to reach for his sheets, yanking them over your body to preserve your dignity as Steve pounds on the door.
”Buck!” he shouts and your heart twists the same way that the door handle does. “I saw that you came home from your run—“
Steve stops dead in his tracks as he catches sight of the scene laid before him: you clutching Bucky’s sheets up to your neck and a shirtless Bucky kneeling over you. His eyes widen and his mouth drops so fast that you swear you hear his jaw clang against the floor.
Bucky slowly repositions himself so that he’s sitting in front of you, blocking your body from Steve’s view with his own.
“Um…” he starts, “I— she— wait— this—wait—… uh… um… wait...”
Bucky trails off and Steve continues to stand shellshocked in the doorway, one hand still on the door handle.
“I think we might owe you an explanation,” you offer up instead, clutching the sheets to your chin and feeling way too vulnerable in your naked state.
Steve finally finds his voice, inhaling sharply through his nose. “Oh, you THINK?”
Steve steps into the room and slams the door shut, making you involuntarily jerk in alarm. He crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowing as he regards you both. From the way that Bucky tenses, you pick up on the devolving nature of this situation.
“What. Is. Going. On.” He addresses you both with a voice that’s heavily laden with authority. “I thought you hated each other! What happened to that?”
You look at Bucky nervously before answering. “I mean… we did. Something just… changed. Turns out we can get on quite well when he’s not behaving like a total raving dic—”
”Doll,” Bucky cuts your sentence off.
”Sorry.” You can’t stop the grin that tugs at your cheeks. “But it’s true though.”
“How long has this been going on?” Steve demands, not finding the situation amusing at all.
“Steve,” Bucky chides his friend’s behaviour. “Maybe it can wait until after she’s dressed.”
The protectiveness of this hulking man makes your heart flutter. You would reach out and tenderly kiss the space between his shoulder blades if Steve wasn’t imploding in the doorway.
“You’re actually NAKED?” Steve shouts in disbelief at you. You feel yourself blushing furiously at how scandalised he is by you.
“Steve! Out!” Bucky barks the commands, his Sergeant voice filtering through. You’re embarrassed again at the effect it has on you.
When Steve doesn’t budge, Bucky stands and practically throws him out of the room. “Just wait here!”
He sighs in irritation, leaning against the door and settling himself. His eyes open and find you, still rooted in your spot on the bed. He softens, pushing off the door and yanking a large shirt from his wardrobe for you.
“Arms up,” he commands and you don’t dare to disobey his authority right now. You sit up as he approaches you, obediently lifting your arms and letting the sheet drop down to your waist again. If seeing your still-hard nipples and soaking cunt has an effect on him, he doesn’t let it show. He pulls the shirt over your head and retrieves your panties from the floor, handing them over to you along with your pyjama shorts.
Even as you pull both items over yourself, he makes no attempt to pull on a shirt himself — instead waiting patiently in his running shorts for you to be settled before opening the door and allowing Steve back into the room.
Steve seems visibly less shaken himself upon his re-entry, having managed to conjure up a degree of composure. He eyes Bucky before his gaze lands on you, a lot more modestly dressed and receptive of visitors now.
“Explain. Right now,” he grits, folding his arms again as he stares you down.
”Do not speak to her like that,” Bucky snaps at him. “You’re mad at me, fine, I get it. I should have told you that something was going on. But don’t take it out on her.”
Steve scoffs. “I’m mad at both of you for being unprofessional. How long has this been going on?”
You say: “the stakeout,” at the same time that Bucky says: “the gala.” Both of you look at each other before correcting yourselves: “the gala.”
“So you both could have compromised this entire operation?” Steve concludes, his tone harsher than you’d like. You’ve never been at the receiving end of Steve’s anger before and it was definitely something you were unsure how to navigate. "Is that the reason there was so much bickering? The blatant insubordination-"
”That’s not fair,” you state, feeling that all-too familiar annoyance when your ability is questioned. “We ran the operation incredibly successfully! It couldn’t have gone better.”
”Whatever’s been happening between us is completely separate to our jobs,” Bucky adds. "It did not affect our mission in the slightest."
“Also,” you mutter, “I’m pretty sure I did say multiple times that I didn’t want to work with him. So I’m hardly at fault here.”
Bucky snorts, turning to look at you with an amused glint in his eyes. Steve doesn’t share the same amusement.
“I thought you both hated each other,” he repeats himself. “Everyone thinks you both can’t stand to be around the other! Meanwhile… this?”
“In all fairness, this is pretty new,” Bucky explains. “It really hasn’t been going on for long.”
"I just can't believe this."
Steve’s shoulders drop when he lets out a long sigh, the steam seems to have run out of him. He turns to Bucky, his tone gentler as he says, “please can we talk? In private.”
Why do you feel like you're in so much trouble?
Bucky nods solemnly but makes a point to cross back over to where you’re sitting on the bed.
He places a very reassuring but brief kiss to your lips and murmurs, “see ya later, doll.” Then he turns and leaves with Steve, clicking the door into place behind him.
You collapse back against the bed, your arm thrown over your eyes. Your phone chirps again from its position on the nightstand.
[PETEY-PIE]: i’m so hungover i just threw up in a bush on the way to my lecture. so i’m obviously not going. pls come over and nurse me back to health thanks