friendly competition
James Barnes is an asshole. A condescending, irritating asshole who knows exactly how to get on your fucking nerves and—
“God — fucking — dammit—!”
— and is putting you through the mattress right at this moment.
Truth be told, you don’t even know how you got here. You remember getting shoved in a closet with him for 7 Minutes in Heaven, and you remember absolutely refusing to kiss him.
“Why not?” He’d sneered, folding his arms. “You scared you’re gonna like it, sweetheart? Promise I’ll take care of ya real good–"
"Oh, please,” you’d scoffed right back. “Let’s not pretend you know your way around a girl’s body, Barnes. I doubt you could even find my clit–"
"I would obliterate your pussy, and you know it.”
You were so fired up that you hadn’t even noticed how close you’d gotten; you could feel his breath on your lips, his chest against yours. So irritated by his cockiness, you hardly even registered what you said next until it was too late: “Fucking prove it.”
You’d both been walking on eggshells around each other. There’d always been tangible tension, ever since you had shut down one of his rants in class and essentially destroyed him – and from there it’d been a competition to one-up one another. You hated him, he hated you… but isn’t the line between hate and lust so very thin?
“O-oh, fuck, James–"
Yes, evidently.
You’re lying on your stomach, hands pinned at the small of your back as he thrusts into you so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His sheets rub against your clit with every body-wracking slap of his hips against you, your throat hoarse from screaming and for a moment you really, really feel sorry for doubting him so much.
(No, you don’t. His ego is massive, he can take it.)
A hand crowds underneath you, before seizing your neck and pulling you up. The shortness of breath makes you pant, pulsing around him instinctively and you hear him laugh in your ear.
Fucking asshole.
And as if he hears you, his fingers find your mouth – and you gag, obviously, because his fingers are fucking thick and he’s shoving them down your throat, but goddamnit, you love it.
"Oh, baby,” he laughs breathlessly, “Next time you do that, make sure it’s on my dick."
"As fucking if—” you grunt, because he’s laying into you real deep now, slow, languid thrusts that have you refraining from shuddering all over– “there’s going to be a next time, you ass."
"Oh?” And his hips still. Then, almost thoughtfully, they begin again. Slow and teasing and not nearly enough. “Really? You think you got enough of me in one night?"
"Your dick game isn’t that impressive,” you say flatly. “Just make me cum and get this over with.”
You feel the heat of his breath as he dips his head again, placing kisses on your jaw so gently that for a moment you’re taken aback. “Don’t get antsy now, baby. I told you I’d take care of you didn’t I? Just…” His hips still again– “I think I’d like you to ask for it.”
“Ask?” You scoff, incredulous. “What, you get off on girls begging for permission–?"
There’s a rough snap of his hips into you and you have to bite hard down on your lip to stop yourself from keening. The taste of iron is bittersweet on your tongue.
"Not any girls,” he mutters, so quiet that you almost don’t hear. “Maybe just you.”
You’re going to pretend that your heart doesn’t flip when he says that, and focus on what the fuck is going on.
Did James Barnes just… confess to you?
If you weren’t lying on your stomach and taking all 8 inches of him you’d be clutching your pearls. But you find the idea isn’t quite as horrifying as you’d imagined.
“… Maybe we can fit more than one night in tonight, but that’s all I can do,” you say after a moment. You can feel him freeze up behind you. “I’ve got exams soon, I don’t have time to be gallivanting around with strange men–”
“Strange men?!” His laugh is really nice. Sweet and dorky – the opposite of what you’d expect from a man like him – and you only manage a huff of laughter yourself before you’re caught off guard by his steadily increasing grinds. “And after these exams? Got any time for a strange man like me?"
”…maybe.“
He hums, and you swear to God if he stops again you’ll take back everything. "But for now… What’s the goal, baby? Three? Four?”
“Bold of you to assume you’ll get me to cum more than once,” you mumble, but you’re beginning to lose your breath as he picks up the pace once again. “I’ll warn you, though – I get loud after 2.”
You don’t have to look back to know he’s sporting a Cheshire Cat grin. “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”