Chapter Text
It’s not like you were jealous.
Yeah, you and Steve have been roommates for two years. And yeah, you consider him your best friend. But you know that Bucky was Steve’s friend first, and now that Bucky has moved in to the third bedroom, it’s about time that you accept being the third wheel.
You don’t mind. They’ve known each other long enough to have a laundry list of inside jokes and dumb, not even funny, little anecdotes which they insist of reliving at every opportunity. And long enough, apparently, for Steve to start skipping your Sunday morning brunches because he decided he wanted to go bar hopping the night before with his best friend instead.
Nope, you don’t mind at all. And you’re definitely not jealous of Bucky. You just don’t like him. He’s inconsiderate and smug and every time you see him, you just want to smack that permanent self-satisfied smirk off of his gorgeous face.
No. Damn it, no. Not gorgeous. Inconsiderate and smug, remember? Pull it together.
And that’s the worst part. Because as much as you dislike him, you also kind of like him, too. It’s not that he makes you completely miserable, really. He just does things that make your life slightly less pleasant. Like recording over your DRV’ed shows, and never taking his laundry out of the washing machine, and is currently sitting in your chair eating your last blueberry muffin.
He’s awesome, Steve had said to you. You’ll love him.
Yeah, right.
Then, a week later: you two just need some time to warm up to each other.
Ok, Steve.
And eventually: how about you just stay out of each others way.
That’s more like it.
“G’morning,” Bucky says around the last half of your muffin. You throw him a glare and grunt a noncommittal ‘good morning’ in reply as he hides his smirk behind the newspaper in his hand.
You grab some fruit from the refrigerator and start filling up a bowl. You try to decide whether you’re going to confront Bucky about the seat or just let it go. It’s a petty thing to be angry about, really. You know it’s a little thing to get worked up about. Not even worth your time, but yet --
“You’re in my seat.”
He snorts a laugh and looks up at you while putting his paper down on the table. “I didn’t see your name on it,” he says, his voice still frustratingly morning rough. You inwardly berate yourself for being so weak-willed and weak-kneed.
You round the bar and make your way into the small dining area, a bowl of fruit in one hand and a fork in the other.
“I sit there every morning for breakfast,” you say, pointing at him with your fork. “And every morning, you sit there for breakfast.” You point at the chair opposite from him. “But for some reason, this morning, you are sitting where my ass usually is. And I want my seat back.”
His stupid smirk turns into a full blown smile. “If you want the seat so bad,” he says, “come take it.”
He slides his chair away from the table, looks at his lap, then back up at you. He takes advantage of your stunned silence and arches his back in a stretch, reaching up to clasp his hands behind his head.
He’s not expecting you to sit on his lap. He’s expecting you to back down. And for that reason, and that reason only, you call his bluff.
“That’s all I wanted,” you say with a shrug. You sink down on his lap and make yourself cozy, one leg between his and the other casually draped over his thigh.
Bucky lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. He reaches around you and picks up his newspaper from the table and holds it out to the side to resume reading it, like this is nothing unusual. You immediately hate it.
He’s acting way too comfortable for your liking.
He’s not the only attractive person in the apartment. You got some things going on for yourself. Anyone would be at least somewhat affected by a considerably good-looking woman sitting in their lap wearing nothing but a satin robe and her undergarments.
Anyone but Bucky, it would seem.
So you force yourself to relax into his body. If he was going to be nonchalant about this, then you would be too, damn it. Just a normal Sunday morning sitting on a pair of very muscular and very comfortable thighs.
... Oh, God.
You begin to eat your breakfast, giving yourself something to do rather than obsess over the strong, sturdy chest against your back and the firm hand against your hip, anchoring your body to the man behind you.
You two sit in a companionable quiet for a while, only the TV playing in the background as white noise and the occasional clink of your fork scraping the bowl. The gentle rise and fall of his chest is actually calming, inviting you to melt deeper back in to him.
After a while, you feel Bucky shift under you, then rest his chin on your shoulder. “Can I have one?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in your ear that reverberates right through you.
Instead of risking saying sounding or saying something stupid, you just nod your head. His stubble rubs against your cheek and you die a little inside. If it feels that good against your face, you can only imagine how it would feel somewhere else. Everywhere else.
Damn it.
When you pick up a strawberry with your fork he shakes his head. “No, watermelon.”
You spear the watermelon and lift it over your shoulder for him to eat. He takes the fruit between his teeth and hums his appreciation.
“Pass me my orange juice,” he says, still chewing on the watermelon.
You sigh. “You’re being very needy right now for someone who’s supposed to be a chair.”
“And you’re doing a lot of talking and not enough passing.”
So, obviously, the peace between you two is officially over. So you pick up his orange juice and bring it to your lips, downing the last bit of it. After it’s gone, you put the glass back on the table, a little harder than necessary.
You are very satisfied with yourself.
Everything is still for a moment before he decides to retaliate. He snatches the bowl out of your hand and slides it to the other side of the table.
You whip your head around so you can look at him over your shoulder.
“You’re a little shit!” you hiss.
“And you’re a little brat!” Bucky growls between his teeth.
You start to stand up, to get away from him before this little thing turns into a big thing, but he pulls you back down onto his lap, heavy hands on your hips to hold you against him.
“You need to apologize for the orange juice,” he says in your ear.
You turn in his lap, sideways, so you can see his face. This is all so petty, which makes you even angrier. You grab his shoulder in one of your hands and poke him in the chest with the other.
“You need to apologize for the seat!”
“No,” Bucky says, and his voice is low and deep and it gets your heart racing in your chest. “You may have Steve wrapped around your little finger, but I’m not so easy. You’re used to being the princess around here, but you’re not anymore. And it makes you so mad that I don’t kiss your ass like everyone else in your life!”
At this point, you are fuming. You can feel your eyes widen in angry surprise and your face go red at his words.
“Well if you don’t want to kiss my ass,” you yell as you grab his shirt in your fists, “then you can just go fuck yourself!”
As soon as the last word passes your lips, Bucky grabs your jaw in his hand. You’re both breathing hard, eyes intent on each other. You want to say something else, but you can’t think. You have a dozen different emotions bubbling up inside of you, but what you feel most is anger… and desire.
“The fucking mouth on you,” he says, more to himself than to you.
And before you know it, his lips are against yours. You don’t know who moved first, only that your mouths are clashing hard enough to send sparks flying. It’s too rough, too frantic, too much teeth to be really enjoyable. But you love it, in a filthy, pent-up sort of way.
Bucky pulls back and slides his hand down from your jaw to your throat.
“You love it,” he says, his lips grazing against yours as he speaks. “You love having someone to give you shit right back.”
He’s right. You do love it. You really do. But you’re not going to tell him that. And you guess he knows that because he doesn’t even give you the opportunity to reply. He just turns you around in his lap so that your back is against his chest again.
Bucky’s hand is still around your throat and his other hand is buried in your hair, gripping the strands and pulling tight. He lets go of your throat and runs his hand down your breasts and your stomach, until he reaches the tie on your robe.
You lean your head back against his shoulder and arch your back, grinding your ass against his hard dick. And thank God for sweatpants, right? Because you swear you can feel every inch of him pressed up against you.
Bucky plants staccato kisses up the side of your face – from your jaw, to your cheek, then to your temple. The gentle press of his lips juxtaposed with the tight grip in your hair is driving you crazy. You bring one hand behind you to comb your fingers through his own long, messy bed head.
You tug a little, testing his response, and you’re not disappointed. He lets out a soft, low moan that goes straight to your core. You pull a little harder and he snatches the knot loose on your robe, letting the cool air hit your sweat-damp skin.
Bucky lets go of the hold on your hair and shifts his hand under your arm so he can cup your breast. You writhe in his lap and he slides the hand on your stomach up to your other breast and does the same. He pinches and pulls at your nipples through your bra, and your hands move to grab hold of his thighs.
“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “Is this alright?”
You turn your head to face him, his lips so close to yours that he could kiss you again if he wanted to.
“Yes,” you moan. “Fuck yes, it’s ok.”
He smirks and noses at your cheek. “Good,” he says against your skin. “Because I’ve wanted to get my mouth on your pretty little pussy ever since the first moment that I saw you.”
You gasp at his words and grip his thighs a little tighter. “What are you waiting for?”
In one fluid motion Bucky stands, you with him, and bends you over the table. He slips your robe off of your shoulders, bringing your arms back as he does so, and bunches the soft material around your wrists.
You’re flat against the table from stomach to chest to cheek, helpless and almost naked, at the mercy of Bucky fucking Barnes.
He holds you there, the makeshift binds around your wrists tight in his grasp as he presses up against your ass. You feel his hard cock against your cunt and you spread your legs wider, allowing him better access to do whatever he wants to do to you.
Bucky slides one of his hands up your back, and you love the rough catch of his work-worn palm against your smooth skin. He gives the base of your neck a quick caress before tangling his fingers in your hair again. He leans over your back and pulls your head up by the tresses.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he says. “I dream about what I would do if I ever got you like this.”
You try to turn your head so you can see his face, but his hand in your hair in unyielding. He lets go of your wrists and runs his now free palm across your ass cheek.
Bucky takes the bunched up robe off of your wrists and tosses it on the floor. You steady yourself against the table with your free hands and push up so you can arch your back and grind yourself into him.
“What do you do?” you ask. “In your dreams… when you get me like this. What do you do?”
“Lots of things,” he replies. “But it always ends with your ass cherry red.”
His palm comes down hard on your right cheek, eliciting a harsh gasp from your mouth. He grabs the reddening flesh and you feel his fingertips sink into your hot skin. He gives your cheek a quick shake then brings his hand down on it again.
You can hear the sharp sound of skin on skin echo in your ears, along with the involuntary whimper that passes through your lips. Bucky untangles his fingers from your hair and moves it down to your unabused ass cheek. He massages them both in his hands, spreading your cheeks apart so he can get a better look at your panty covered core.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says, as if you didn’t already know. As if you don’t feel your panties soaked all the way through. He slaps your unassaulted cheek three times in quick succession, and you let out a moan louder than the previous one with each blow.
Bucky massages your ass once more, soothing the throbbing hot burn. He continues on, running his hands up your hips and waist, then back down again. “This is even better than I imagined,” he tells you, admiring your bright red skin. “Do you like when I spank you, princess?”
You’re about to answer, but he gives your ass another smack before you can.
“I fucking know you do,” he says, and you can hear the smirk through the inflection in his voice. “I bet you get mouthy on purpose, just hoping someone will bend you over their lap and spank you.”
He runs a thumb down the curve of your panties, from asshole to clit, then halfway up again. He stops at your pussy and presses his fingertip against the give of the wet fabric.
You’re shaking now. You need his fingers, his cock, anything inside of you to fill you up. You’ve never felt so empty before. You’ve never craved someone like you do Bucky.
“Bucky, please,” your practically sob. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
The last part comes out as a whisper, but you know he heard it. “Yeah?” he asks, as if he’s genuinely surprised. You nod your head, your cheek sliding against the smooth wood of the table.
“I can do that,” he says, voice like gravel. “Just for you, princess.” And, even though you know he’s being facetious, you hope that nickname sticks because you feel your pussy clench every time he says it.
Bucky slides your panties down over your ass, but stops once you’re uncovered. He tightens the fabric against the curve between your ass and thighs and lifts a few times, making your ass cheeks bounce.
“You have the most perfect ass,” he tells you as he pulls your panties the rest of the way down your legs. You step out of them and kick them to the side with your robe.
Bucky then grabs you behind the knee and props it up on the table, spreading you wider for him. He lets out a curse as he runs his palms up the back of your thighs, thumbs sliding against the pleasure slick skin between your legs.
“Stop teasing me,” you whine. “Touch me.” And he does. He rubs the arch between his index finger and thumb against your cunt, strumming your clit while putting pressure on your asshole. You let out a sob as he does, pushing back against his hand to get more friction against your core.
“Damn you want it bad, don’t you?” He says as he continues to tease you clit with his fingertips. “You want my dick inside of your tight, wet pussy?”
“Yes, please,” you whimper, and you don’t even care how you sound anymore. This has been building up for too long and it was about time before you two either fight or fuck each other.
You risk a look over your shoulder and you almost melt at the sight. Bucky looks wrecked. As wrecked as you feel. His pouty lips are bitten red, soft and swollen. His hair is falling around his face, framing his flushed cheeks. And his eyes, usually soft and bright, are dark and lust-blown, staring right at you.
“Bucky…” you whisper, and you don’t know why. Only that his name feels so good on your lips. And he’s looking at you like you’re the last plate of his favorite meal on Earth.
And you’ve never wanted someone so bad in your entire life.
He has barely even touched your cunt and you’re already falling apart. You hide your face in the crook of your elbow and rock back against his hand. Your body convulses and your knees shake, turning to jello more and more as each moment passes.
Bucky places a palm on the center of your back to hold you tight against the table as his other hand works your clit, guiding you through your orgasm. He’s murmuring encouraging words to you as you come, telling you how good you look, how good you feel, how he can’t wait to get his mouth on you and taste your pretty pussy.
“Fuck!” you moan as you come down from your high. Bucky is kissing down your spine, leaving soft pecks against your heated skin. “Fuck, I hate you.”
No one has taken you apart like this. No one has made you come undone with just their words and the gentle touch of their fingertips.
Bucky just laughs in the middle of planting two kisses on your back.
He rises up and swats your ass again, but there’s barely any force behind it this time. He pulls at the knee of your straightened leg and picks it up, placing it on the table with its partner. Now, you’re completely spread out before him. Your thighs are opened wide, breasts low against the table, and you are very aware that your soaking wet pussy is on display.
“Fuck, if this isn’t the best view in the world,” Bucky says as he kneads you ass cheeks in his hands, spreading your lower lips with his thumbs so he can get a better look at your cunt. He sits down in the previously discarded chair and pulls it up close.
You jerk in surprise when you feel his teeth softly sink into the flesh of your thigh. He weaves his arms in the space between your legs and rests his elbows on the table before steadying your hips in his hands.
He scatters small bites along the back of your thighs, punctuating them with kisses when he feels like he has bitten down too hard. And you’re a writhing mess in his hands, shaking and swaying, moaning at the feeling of his sharp teeth and soft lips against your skin.
Bucky’s touching you everywhere but the one place you need it – your thighs, your ass, the crease beside your labia. Eventually you get fed up and frustrated, so you reach behind you and grab a fist full of his hair, pushing his face into your eager core.
You both groan when his mouth touches your pussy. You sink down lower, knees sliding against the table as you rest your forehead against the back of one of your hands, Bucky’s hair still caught in the grip of your other.
He starts out soft and slow, taking his time to carefully explore your folds with the tip of his tongue. He pushes his tongue between your lower lips lightly, gently, almost reverent, like he’s trying to memorize every detail about you with his mouth. His pace is killing you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
He finally licks a broad path up your pussy, from your clit to your entrance, the back down again. Involuntarily, you start rocking back against him, searching for more friction. He allows you to move while keeping a firm but tender hold on your hips.
Bucky pulls back, way too soon, his hair slipping through your fingers, and you whine in disappointment. He chuckles at the sound and plants a hot, wet kiss to the inside of your thigh.
“You taste so fucking amazing,” he says against your skin, then kisses your other thigh. “Better than I could have ever imagined.”
You moan and rock back, practically begging for him to put his mouth on you again. This time, he dives in, dipping his stiff tongue inside of you, fucking you with it. You feel his stubble scrape your sensitive thighs, his sinful lips against your cunt. The sensations work together to create the most delicious kind of pleasure.
Bucky flattens his velvet tongue against your pussy, running it between your folds, over your clit. He makes a seal around it with his mouth, keeping steady pressure on your delicate nub. He moans loud and deep, the vibrations pulsating through you.
He pulls his arms from underneath you and slides his hands up the back of your thighs. He grabs your ass cheeks and smacks the right one one good time, then sinks his fingertips into your flesh.
While Bucky’s tongue is still playing with your clit, he slowly slides his thumb into your soaking wet pussy. He rubs his index finger around your asshole, putting a gentle pressure on the tight entrance. Your slick walls tighten around his finger as it pumps in and out of you, driving you crazy.
You let a low moan escape your lips, and once it does, it’s like a dam has been opened. You whimper Bucky’s name, then repeat it, again and again, a quiet, purely instinctive mantra just for him. You tell him how perfect his mouth is, how amazing his fingers are. How you’re going to come all over his lips if he keeps touching you like this.
You’re somehow mindful of his absent hand, and when you look back at him, you see his shoulder moving, his arm flexing, and you realize that he’s touching himself underneath the table. He’s jerking himself off while eating you out and damn if that isn’t the hottest thing you have ever seen in your life, even if you can’t actually see his dick.
As if he knows you’re watching him, he looks up and meets your gaze. His piercing blue eyes cut right through you, and then they crinkle at the corners, and you can feel his smirk against your cunt.
“Fuck!” you call out, and you wish you could keep that eye contact going, but your vision blurs and your legs start to shake and you have to lay your head back down on the table.
Bucky wraps his free hand around your thigh in order to hold you tight to him, pressing you close against his face and licking you through your orgasm. He sucks your clit in his mouth and you melt against him, going loose and pliant in his grip.
When you come down, you can feel him still moving behind you. He pulls back from your cunt and is breathing hard, moaning your name. You want to look back at him, but your body is weak, so you just focus on the heavenly sounds coming from his perfect mouth.
“Come for me,” you say to him. “Please, Bucky, I want you to come.”
And he does. The hold he has on your thigh tightens even more and you feel his stubbled cheek against your ass. His hot breath is coming out in harsh gusts against your overly sensitive pussy and you almost have to move away, but you don’t. You let him ride his orgasm out until his arm slows, then eventually stops.
Bucky keeps his cheek resting against your ass until you shift your body. Your knees and elbows are sore, your thighs are quivering, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so satisfied in your life.
You hear Bucky stand up behind you, then feel his hands on your hips, turning you around and lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the table. Between your pliant body and his incredibly enticing strength, it’s ridiculous how easily he can move you any way and every way that he wants to.
Bucky moves to stand between your thighs and you bury your head in his chest. You clench the fabric of his shirt in your fists and pull him closer. You groan and he snickers, rubbing his broad hands all over your back.
“That was incredible,” you mumble into his shirt.
He holds you cheeks softly in his hands and lifts your face up so he can look at you. He smiles. Not that ever-present smug smirk that is usually on his face, but an actual smile.
“Did you just give me a compliment?” he asks, eyes scrunching up in the corners, and you are quickly starting to love those lines.
“Don’t make me regret it,” you tease, and he smiles even wider.
You two are silent after, gazing at each other. His hands are still on your cheeks, and his shirt is balled in your fists. Slowly, as if nervous, Bucky leans down and barely grazes his soft lips against yours.
He starts to pull back, but you don’t let him.
You weave your hands behind his neck and press your lips firmly against his. He reciprocates slowly at first and then, with an abrupt burst of passion, his lips move earnestly across yours. His insistent mouth parts your lips as he takes control of the kiss, sending shivers down your spine. Your tongues touch in an unhurried caress and you can taste yourself in his mouth.
This kiss is unbelievable. This kiss is fireworks instead of sparks. You could do this forever.
But Bucky pulls away, uncoupling your lips from each other, and rests his forehead against yours.
“Come on,” he says, eventually, rising up to his full height.
“Come on where?” you ask, reluctant to move, afraid that any misstep will force you out of this magical haze.
Bucky just rolls his eyes and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. He gives your bare ass a smack and starts walking.
“What the fuck, Barnes? Where are we going?” you ask again, but you’re laughing at the sudden jolt of your world being both literally and metaphorically turned upside down
“So you’re getting mouthy again, huh?” he says and gives your ass another smack. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to my room. I think we both deserve a nap, and after I wake up, I know I’m going to want to eat lunch in bed.”