Something More

You swore you had drifted to sleep only minutes ago when Bucky’s gravely voice woke you up. Groaning in annoyance you snuggled further into his sheets trying to hold onto the last grasp of slumber, but it was useless. Rubbing your tired eyes you yawned rolling onto your side to see Bucky on the phone.

Sitting against his headboard still shirtless and only clad in his boxers you watched the way his chest rose and fell in even breaths. Watched the way the thin stream of sunlight from his window shone against his tanned skin highlighting his perfectly sculpted abs. You wanted to reach out and lightly trace his muscles, but after last night you weren’t sure what the protocol was. 

Dragging your gaze up to his face you bit back a giggle at the way pieces of his hair were sticking up haphazardly. In all the times you had spent the night with him you had never seen his hair look quite so messy. Then again in all the times you had spent the night with him you had never spent so much time tugging and threading your fingers through his hair.

Dark circles lined his eyes and you wondered how long he had been awake for.  His gaze swiveled down to you and the smile that he graced you with sent your heart racing. And when he mouthed morning you felt your stomach flutter.

“She’s awake now I’ll talk to you later, Steve,” he murmured.

Dropping your gaze you listened to him wrap his conversation up and then he was placing his phone on his nightstand and gracing you with his full attention. 

“Did I wake you?”

“It’s okay,” you said, yawning behind your hand. “It’s only fair after I woke you up last night... or this morning.” 

It was hard to remember the timeline of everything that had happened in the past twenty fours and the little bit of sleep you had managed to get along with trying to understand the myriad of emotions had your head feeling heavy.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Fighting another yawn you knew that wasn't what he was referring to. "Sore,” you added shyly. 

The sound of his sheets rustling filled his room as he repositioned himself so he was laying on his side facing you. Throughout the night his eyes had returned back to their normally bright blue color. In the morning light he had a fresh growth of stubble lining his face and though you still weren’t sure what the protocol was after losing your virginity to your best friend your fingers reached out on their own accord and lightly caressed his cheek.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him, but the words were lodged in the back of your throat. Your eyes lingered on his lips, your fingertips continuing to stroke his beard and as your eyes slowly danced up to meet his your heart skipped a beat at the way he was staring at you. His stare was magnetic and you found yourself unable to look away. Searching his eyes your body arched into his touch when his hand hesitantly slipped to your waist. 

A small nod of your head, a gentle smile curving up your lips, teeth tugging on your lower lip and he was slowly, oh so slowly slipping his hand under the hem of your shirt his callused hands caressing the warm skin of your back. 

A couple more minutes of silence stretched on and you would have given anything to spend the rest of the day like this.

But life didn’t always work out the way you wanted it to and when you swore his gentle caresses on your back could lull you back to sleep he was speaking and breaking the comfortable silence.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk about what happened,” he murmured softly, as if he was afraid by merely bringing it up you’d flee from his arms.

You remembered all too well the way you had bolted from his embrace, from his bed, from the tangled mess of your bodies last night. Remembered all too well the way his blanket felt scratchy against your sweaty and heated skin. Remembered all too well the way the lights in his bathroom had seemed so unnaturally bright.

But mostly you remembered all too well the onslaught of emotions that bombarded you. Remembered the way only moments before the two of you had become one only to separate and come face to face with the awkwardness that had seemingly replaced the afterglow you had been robbed of.

Dropping your gaze you mumbled an I know finding it difficult to look at him. Your fingers were the next to drop and you missed the feeling of his scratchy beard. Lightly resting your hand on his chest you chewed on your lower lip struggling to reign in your racing thoughts. You knew what he wanted to know, knew what he wanted to ask, but you didn’t know how to talk about it. It was stupid given what had taken place only hours ago. After sharing something so intimate with Bucky it should have been easy to talk about anything with him, but you were finding the opposite to be true. 

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure if you were apologizing for the way you had bolted or for being unable to talk about it, but like every time he noticed the way your body would stiffen from nerves or embarrassment he was right there trying to fix it.

His hand rubbed small and soothing circles against your back. “It’s okay just talk to me.”

He made it sound so easy like you were talking about what to order for breakfast or what movie to watch. 

“Do you have deep conversations with all your hookups the morning after?” You teased. Daring a glance up at him you expected to see him cracking a smile or maybe to see that mischievous glint in his eyes that let you know he was ready to tease you back. You weren’t expecting to see him frowning or to see a flash of sadness flit across his eyes. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he commanded when you dropped your gaze again. “You were more than just a hookup to me you know that, right?” 

Unlike last night when he had called you beautiful the sincerity in his voice made you take notice, made you believe him. Searching his eyes you saw nothing but honesty reflected.

“Yeah,” you breathed, your thoughts becoming consumed with the thought that if you tilted your face just a little bit his lips could be on yours in a second. The thought made it hard to concertante on his next words, even harder to focus on giving him an answer.

“So talk to me sweetheart.” His lips brushed across your forehead in a kiss that was equal parts sweet and reassuring and though you were still apprehensive about opening up to him you knew you had to. 

“I meant what I said I don’t regret it,” you started. Still unable to look at him you drew random patterns on his chest, your eyes watching each swirl and dip of your fingers. “And I’m glad that you were my first. Really glad.”

“But?” He prompted after a couple minutes of silence and the slight edge to his voice had you finally lifting your eyes to his.

The worry reflected back had you frowning and you wondered what was going through his mind. Part of you wanted to lean forward and capture his lips in a kiss that would convey everything you were struggling to say. But you knew until you guys talked about this and figured out where to go from here kissing him wasn’t the best idea.

“I didn’t think it was going to be so emotional or... or so intense.” You weren’t sure your words were making sense. You knew you weren’t explaining this right, but it was so hard to focus when you could still feel his hand rubbing circles on your back and when you watched the worry dissipate from his eyes to be replaced with a concern you sighed. 

“It was just overwhelming, Bucky,” you mumbled, dropping your eyes. Wanting nothing more than to curl up into his arms and have him hold you like he did last night, like he did whenever you had a bad day, like he did whenever you needed him you frowned as you continued to draw patterns on his tanned chest.

“You know,” he started after a couple minutes of silence. His voice is quiet and if you weren’t laying so close to him you wouldn’t have heard. “It was intense for me too.”

Hearing his words your head whipped up so fast to look at him you swear you get whiplash. The sheepish look on his face, the way he offers a shrug of his shoulders it all tells you he’s telling you the truth, not simply saying it to make you feel better. Opening and closing your mouth you’re at a loss for words.

“Why?” It’s not until he’s cracking a smile that you realize how rude your outburst was. “I just... I mean it wasn’t like it was your first time.”

“No, but it was ours,” he murmured, his eyes looking into yours so deeply that you swear he can read what’s written on your heart, written on your soul. “And I wanted it to be good for you. Wanted it to be memorable.”

“It was,” you breathed out. “It was... god Bucky you were perfect.”

It’s impossible to look away, but even if you could you don’t think you would have. His hand stilled on your back as your fingers stilled against his chest. Lost in his eyes you think again about how easy it would be to lean forward and kiss him. How easy it would be to roll onto your back and pull him with you, but the throbbing ache between your legs reminds you that your body needs time, yet that doesn’t stop your mind from conjuring memories of what had taken place hours ago.

“Is it always gonna be like that? So... so emotional and intense?”

“It’s different with someone you care about. Someone you lo-.” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you find you don’t care. You’ve barely been listening to his words anyways and as he tilts his head down you wonder if he had been listening to anything you said.

When his lips brush across yours lightly at first it takes a minute of him coaxing you before you find yourself able to kiss him back. It’s soft and slow and sweet and you’re surprised and relieved to find no trace of awkwardness in the kiss. It feels right and you’re not sure if that has to do with sleeping together or him forcing you to open up. Either way you don’t care. 

Sliding your hand from his chest to the back of his neck you curl your fingers in his hair and when his tongue dances across your lower lip asking for entrance you eagerly grant it to him. Moaning when his tongue expertly explores your mouth before tangling with your own you’re a breathless mess when he finally pulls away his forehead resting against yours.

Heavy breaths mingle, his hand spays across your back pushing you closer to him, legs tangle, hearts pound steadily and shakily beneath chests, eyes flutter open and closed and just as breathing becomes steady lips are melting together again in perfect harmony.

“Honey,” he mumbled against your lips, the pet name taking on new meaning after what took place. It fills your body with a warmth, sends your heart fluttering and you want to ask him to say it again, to keep saying it until the word loses all meaning. 

“I can’t answer that for you, but it’ll feel better next time. It’ll feel so much fuckin’ better for you I promise.” His teeth nip at your lip, his kisses dance across your cheek before moving back to your lips.

It takes your brain a moment to catch up with his words, to understand what he’s talking about, but when you remember your earlier question, when you replay his answer you hope it’s true, you hope the next time is better. Less painful, less awkward, you hope you get that promised afterglow you missed out on this first time.

“Is there going to be a next time for us?” The words tumble from your mouth only to be swallowed by his kisses and you half hope he didn’t catch them. This wasn’t how you wanted to ask him where you went from here. 

The urge to untangle your bodies and run or to apologize are so strong, but before you can do anything he’s tightening his hold on you as if he could read your thoughts, as if he could feel the panic wafting from your body.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute as he continues to kiss you and you relax thinking maybe he didn’t hear you, but just as the thought flits through your mind he’s pulling his lips back and brushing his nose lightly against yours. Lifting his shoulder up in a shrug he lets out a sigh pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes.

“You’re still in charge, sweetheart so you tell me."

“But... what if what I want is different than what you want?”

The truth is you hadn’t thought this arrangement through when you had asked him to sleep with you. That night in his apartment when you had first broached the subject you had only planned on it being a one time thing. You guys would sleep together and then go back to being friends. You hadn’t expected his rules, hadn’t expected the makeout sessions, hadn’t expected him to spend so much time making sure you felt good. And you definitely hadn’t expected him to be so talented in that aspect. Just like you hadn’t expected to become so addicted to his kisses or his touch. What was only supposed to be a one time thing had you longing to stretch this out a little longer, had you longing to have him explore your body more, had you longing to explore his body.

And while you knew the longer you dragged this on, the more you hooked up the higher the chance was that things could get messy, but you still held out hope that if anybody could navigate friends with benefits without getting hurt it was you two.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, his voice like velvet. “Tell me what you want, honey.”

There it was, that pet name again, the pet name that turned your body to jello, that made your heart flutter, that made you want to do exactly as he asked.

“I mean... we’re both single,” you started slowly, your eyes darting up to gauge his reaction. Met with a depth of love and patience it gives you the confidence to continue. “And we both enjoy what we’ve been doing. I mean at least I think we both have? You’ve been so focused on me that you haven’t exactly been getting a lot out of this, but... I-I want to keep doing this.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat  you wait with bated breath for his answer. Time seems to stretch on for minutes, for hours, for days, but in reality you know it can’t be more than a few seconds. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice is so low it has you shivering in his arms as your heart plummets to your stomach. He’s going to say no, going to say that this was only meant to be a one time thing and you don’t know how you’re going to be able to look him in the eyes when all you can think about is the way he stared into your eyes every time he brought you to an overwhelming release.

“You really think I haven’t been getting anything out of this? You have no idea how much I enjoy getting you off, Y/N. How much I enjoy hearing you moan my name. I’ve been gettin’ so much out of this.” To prove his words he kisses you so deeply you swear you see stars flash behind your closed eyes.

His words and his kiss catch you off guard after having been so sure he would say no and though he didn’t technically say yes you get lost in the kiss.  

“That what you want? To just be friends with benefits? Nothing more?"

His tone is unreadable though you think you hear a hint of disappointment, but you brush it aside assuming you’re wrong. After all why would he be disappointed about being friends with benefits when he had assured you only moments before that he enjoyed what you guys had? His eyes search yours, his expression as unreadable as his tone, but you think you see a hint of sadness flash through, but again you brush it aside assuming you’re wrong and again your heart plummets to your stomach for fear of him saying no.

"That's what I want," you repeated, trying your best to ignore the warning bells that were ringing in the back of your mind. "But this isn't just my decision, Bucky. What do you want?"

"I can do friends with benefits," he lied, forcing a smile onto his face.

“So how was it?” Natasha asked playfully. Crossing your bedroom floor she drapes herself dramatically across your bed propping her head up with her hand and without her having to say more you know exactly what she’s asking about.

Tossing your phone next to you on the bed you try, but fail to keep the smile off your face. Aside from Bucky nobody can read you better than her and it’s both a blessing and a curse.

“How did you know?” 

Lifting her shoulder up in a shrug she arches a perfect eyebrow letting you know that there’s no way you’re getting out of this conversation without spilling some of the details.

“Call it a woman’s intuition,” she teased. “He treated you okay? Do I have to have a talk with him?”

“No you don’t have to have a talk with him,” you said, opting to answer the easier question first. Tugging at a loose thread on your shirt your chewed on your lower lip thinking about the way he treated you so much better than okay. Heat crawled its way up your neck and when you lifted your eyes to meet hers you wondered if she could tell what you were thinking by the intense way she was scrutinizing you.

“He was... he treated me perfectly,” you gushed. “I’m serious. He was a complete gentleman. I mean I know I don’t exactly have a lot of experience, but god Nat it was... he was... better than either of my exes which I know doesn’t say a lot, but... it was good. Like really good.”

“I’m glad it was good,” she said after a moment of silence after a too long moment of staring at you. 

You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t making you a little uncomfortable.

“So you guys are going back to friends?”

It’s your turn to have a moment of silence. Shifting on your bed you drop your gaze. You can already picture the lecture she’s about to give you if you tell her about your arrangement, but you hate keeping things from her. Clearing your throat you shrug your shoulder trying and failing to emit a sense nonchalance.

“Yeah. Friends,” you said before quickly adding. “With benefits.”

The silence scares you. With Natasha it’s not her words of anger or her raised voice you have to be afraid of. No, those are easy to handle. At least with a raised voice or a string of angry words thrown in your direction you know what you’re up against. It’s her steely all knowing gazes, it’s the stretched silences, it’s the thin lips that you have to be afraid because with those you never quite know what you’re going to get.

“Friends. With benefits,” she repeated slowly as if the words were a foreign language and she wasn’t quite sure how to pronounce them.

“Uh huh.”

An audible sigh is heard in your bedroom and you know that’s not a good sign, but before you can try to defend your decision she’s speaking in a tone that’s even her words surprising you.

“Be careful, Y/N. I really don’t want to see you get hurt.”

It’s all she says before bidding you goodnight. Watching her retreating back as she leaves your room she closes your bedroom door with a quiet click. Left alone with your thoughts you’re surprised at her lack of a lecture, lack of her words. You want to chase after her and tell her you’re going to be okay, reassure her that no one is going to get hurt, try and convince her that if she had been there to see how well Bucky had treated you she’d understand this arrangement. But you don’t chase after her, you don’t tell her any of that.