drabbles

“You’re so fucking sexy when you do that.”

Okay, so maybe the whole ‘waiting until after exams’ bit is getting to James. It’s been a whole three days since you fucked and you still ache between your thighs. True to his word, he’d managed the impossible: you came 4 times that night. 

You glance up at him now, unimpressed. You knew studying with him was a bad idea. “When I what? Read Pride and Prejudice?" 

"No, no – I mean, yes. When you concentrate you get this lil… crease between your brows…” He reaches forward – concentrating himself – tugging the plush of his bottom lip between his teeth as he reaches out to poke between your brows. “You look fucking sexy.”

“Alright, Romeo,” you snort. And you return to your reading. 

The silence doesn’t last long, and the second he opens his mouth you swear you’re two moments away from taping his lips together. 

“Lemme eat you out.”

“Wh– no!” Aghast, you peek around to see if anyone had heard him. But the library is virtually empty – it is, after all, 11 PM on a Friday. You’re both tucked away in a table at the back behind the History books that no-one ever takes out. “You should be studying.”

“Nah, I got this exam in the bag.”

You glare. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slumping in his seat again. “You’re my only competition, and, well…”

“Well, what?” You demand, setting your book down. “You saying I’m not good competition, Barnes? If my memory serves me correct – and it fucking does – I beat you by 10% on the last exam. That’s a big gap, Buckaroo.”

His own eyes narrow. Oh, you hit a nerve.

“Just for that,” he begins slowly, pushing his chair out, “I’m gonna suck your clit ‘til you go blind.”

“What part of no don’t you understand?” But the promise is enticing and you part your legs anyway as he shimmies underneath the table. “You’re such a fuckboy, I swear–”

“I’m loyal!” He objects incredulously from beneath you. “I just like how you taste, baby.”

A fuckboy, you swear. But he’s got a way with words (and a way with his fingers, and with his tongue, and–).

You feel your skirt being rucked up and your panties being pulled to the side – seconds later, his face ducks up from the table, grinning wolfishly. “Kinda wet down here, baby. You okay?”

“Shut up before I scream,” you grunt, folding your arms. 

“Wouldn’t that be a dream?” He sighs. He retreats not two milliseconds after, though, and you hear him whistle lowly to himself. And then, so quiet you almost don’t catch it: “Fucking hell, baby.”

You make a promise then that if he calls you baby once more you’re going to kick him because it makes your stomach flutter and your palms sweat – but then he licks a rough line up your pussy and you decide that maybe you’ll allow him this one. 

Your head falls back as he does it again, and again, and again, as if he’s trying to clean up whatever mess you’d made in your panties. And normally you’d be irritated – like, move onto my clit already, please – but he genuinely sounds like he’s enjoying himself. Quiet groans in his throat and passionate movements of his jaw, and his hands grasp your thighs so tightly you know there’ll be bruises. He smacks his lips wetly and you jolt, peeking out from behind the bookshelf to see if anyone had seen. 

“Calm down,” Bucky says, words muffled against you. “Nobody comes behind here on a Friday night. We’re golden.”

And as if to punctuate his point: a finger pulls back the hood of your clit, and true to his word, he sucks. Quickly, you shove your fist into your mouth and begin to gnaw on your knuckles, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see galaxies. 

“B-Bucky,” you whimper, “Unless you want me to get us fucking caught–" 

"I know, I know,” he says, sighing. His face comes out from underneath the table again. “Hey, pull your top down.”

“W-what?” To be fair, you’re still delirious off pleasure because his thumb hasn’t stopped its grinding against your clit. “Why?" 

"So I can play with your tits,” he says easily, shrugging. “C'mon, sweet thing. Show me your nipples.”

You stare at him for a moment, disbelief written on your face. “You’re such a man.”

“And you’ve still got the limp to prove it, baby.”

“Whatever.” You pull your vest down, tug your breasts out of their cups – only to appease him and get him to shut up. Immediately he takes one in one of his grabby hands, all warm and rough as he tugs and pulls at one nipple.

So, okay, maybe he does know what he’s doing. Sometimes. 

“Hm, you like that, dontcha?" 

"Shut up,” you hiss, “if you get us banned from this library because of your dirty talk I’m never fucking you again– shit." 

A steady stream of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves calls your attention elsewhere; at the same time, your nipple is rolled between his index and thumb. You feel like you’re buzzing all over, and it’s not because you’ve had five cups of coffee in the last three hours. 

You don’t realise that you’re panting – fucking close – until Barnes releases your clit with a pop!, ducking underneath the table to peek up at you again. "You tryna get us caught?" 

"I’ll be quiet,” you promise through gritted teeth, shoving your tank top into your mouth. You restrain the urge to curse him out because you could feel the beginning flutters of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue and you know he’ll draw it out as much as possible if given the chance. “Just keep going." 

He’s wearing a victorious, shit-eating grin when he gets back to it, energy increases tenfold. He eats pussy like he’s competing for a trophy, a prize – truth be told, you don’t mind being his prize if he makes you cum as hard as you did a few days ago. His tongue moves eagerly, tracing letters and numbers and fucking book quotes on sensitive skin before sucking again. 

No noise. No noise. No noise. You never usually have a problem keeping quiet for the first orgasm. But as much as you hate to admit it, the act of being eaten out in a public library is kinda sexy. And he really knows what he’s doing. Maybe that’s why when you cum, you have no problem with clinging to any part of him you can get your hands on – the hand in your chest, his hair between your legs. A weak whimper follows as you contract around nothing, hips bucking gently into his mouth, and he takes it all in kind. 

Fuck. 

He slides back from under the table and resurfaces a meter away, grinning widely like the cat that got the cream. You imagine the image of you looking so ruined because of him is doing stuff for his ego – so as quickly as possible you pull down your top and readjust your skirt, panties irritatingly rough against your skin. You’re probably sweaty as fuck. 

"Good, huh?" 

"I was going to insult you just there but even I’m not that bad,” you mumble, wiping your forehead. “Whatever, Barnes. You give good head, I’ll give you that.”

He hums, leaning backwards. “Thanks, baby. Now, bend over." 

”Excuse me?“ You say. 

"That was just the starter, baby. We need to get to the main course, don’t we?” You’re so genuinely shaken by his unfaltering confidence that you just stare. “Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

You’re in a library. The cunnilingus was already a reach – but you do love the feeling of him inside you. And he does always take care of you. And–

You sigh in defeat, standing. You were gonna beat him in the test anyway. “Remember what I told you last time?" 

"You get loud after two. I’ll keep that in mind, baby.”