Rating: R, for language (I'm not ready to write smut.. yet)
Word Count: 1308
Warnings: Crude language.
Listening to: Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes by Fall Out Boy
Summary: Demon!Dean being a demon.
Author's Note: First time writing and posting in literal years. I know it's bad. That's why it's Demon!Dean. Marketing. lol. This is more about accountability and practice than actually writing something worth reading.. you've been warned. Next month will be less.. clunky.
Leaning your head back, the stiffness in your neck on the verge of being a medical emergency, but you’d deal with that later. You continued stretching, enjoying the few minutes you had to smoke and be away from him, or at least out of that room.
You’d done the impossible. Great. Now you were waiting for his actual handlers to get here and take him off your hands. Checking the time on your phone, and you still had at least six more hours with him. Super.
From outside the demon cage you’d made, you could hear him. He’d spent almost every minute trying to break you, and so far so good. The urge to smoke another cigarette was strong, but you didn’t know if you’d be able to go back in there if you gave in to another.
Dropping the butt into the bucket, you took a deep breath and pushed off the metal wall. As soon as you stepped into the frame of the door, you felt his undivided attention.
“Knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said with a smirk.
You didn’t reply. You’d made a point of not indulging him in the slightest. It hadn’t been too long ago where ending up in bed with him had been an option, but not now. The last time you’d seen Dean Winchester had been years ago, and even without the demon crap, he was not the same.
He adjusted in the chair you’d chained him to, before he continued his one-sided conversation, “Remember when we met?”
Of course you did, but you went about your work. He wasn’t just some random demon, and keeping him in this room required almost constant work.
You flipped through the pages of the book to find the next sigil you needed to paint as Dean continued to yap, “I do, and I think about it often.”
Hearing the smirk made this worse. Part of you would give your left leg to hear Dean Winchester saying he not only remembered meeting you but thought about it often, but this wasn’t the same man; it wasn’t a man at all anymore.
You grabbed the bucket of blood and didn’t acknowledge him, as he continued, “Getting hard just thinking about it now. Bet we could have a lot more fun. Hell, you wouldn’t even need to get rid of the chains…” his voice seemed to drop an octave as he finished, “let you have your way with me.”
When you continued to work and ignored him, he seemed to give up. Then he was silent for the next hour. Not as much fun, but let you get ahead on the damage. Whatever he was now was tearing your formerly indestructible bomb shelter that doubled as a monster cage.
After a quick check of the room, you figured you could take at least fifteen minutes. Smoke, grab a drink, maybe even try to work one of the knots out of your back.
As you headed to the door, he spoke again, but it was different this time. His voice was hoarse and strained, almost too quiet to hear, “Please, don’t leave me here.”
For maybe four seconds you hesitated, pausing midstride to process, but that’s all he needed. You heard the chains fall to the floor as you were embraced in the worst bear hug. Before it was too late, you kicked out and tripped one of the panic buttons. The doors slammed closed and Dean bellowed before tossing you aside.
You might be beat to shit already, but you weren’t a little bitch. Back on your feet, you were ready for something, not everything, but quite a few things. Making sure to keep as much distance between you and Dean as you could, you watched as he walked the perimeter of this prison cell.
Slamming his fist against the door, Dean asked, “What’s the plan now, sweetheart?”
You weren’t about to start talking now, but that only seemed to piss him off. It wasn’t easy to figure out what you were supposed to do, it’s not like handling anything this powerful was common knowledge. Talk and risk your sanity or stay silent and get tortured. Honestly, torture is an option no matter what you do. Him getting out of the chains is bad, the worst, and you are going to pay for this with your life.
He kicked the chair he’d been chained to, and you had an idea as he started to monologue. You weren’t paying attention to his vague threats and boasting about how nothing can hold him, because you knew where you’d fucked up.
You racked your brain for when you’d last heard him straining against the chains. Maybe while you were on your last smoke break, after that you hadn’t heard the chains clanging or even moving against each other.
You couldn’t get them around him again, that had been pure luck and you were all out of that, but you could get out of this room. You needed to move quickly but keep him distracted, and there was only one way to do that.
Not waiting for him to pause, because he was never going to shut up, you cut Dean off, “What’s your fucking plan?”
He turned and grinned at you, “You really want to know?”
“Why not,” you said, letting the irritation and frustration bleed into your voice.
“Well, sweetheart, first we’re going to have some fun,” Dean started, as he slowly approached you.
You continued trying to keep away from him, but now with a specific goal: get to the fucking door. For each step he took, you’d slide a little closer, letting the panic take over to sell your performance. To add to the show you were putting on for him, you let out a very forced laugh before saying, “Fun for you, not for me.”
“Oh, babygirl,” Dean cooed, less than five feet between the two of you, “I’m gonna make it good for you. It’s still good, ol’ Dean in here, and I remember you.”
Barely a foot between where you were and where you needed to be, but he was so close already. If you screwed this up and he caught you, he’d escape, or hurt you until you told him how to get out.
Sadly, not the first time you’d been in an absolute dumpster fire of your own creation. But you were tired and reaching a breaking point. With one last step, you were standing in front of the false panel. Carefully fidgeting with it, you rambled, “I remember you too. I remember you hitting on anything with tits. Assuming that whatever you are now is somehow worse, I’d rather you just kill me and get it over with.”
Dean laughed, closing the distance and boxing you in against the wall. His breath fanned out across your neck as you turned your head away from him. Running the end of his nose along your jaw, he whispered, “Oh, I can do that too, but why waste good pussy?”
Before he could do anything else, you slid the panel closed as the room filled with noise. To most it sounded like static, but Dean was on his knees. Clutching his head, eyes black, he let out an actual roar before collapsing.
You didn’t think it would work that well, but went about getting him chained up again, this time on the floor. His body stretched out in the middle of the room, each wrist and ankle chained separately. Half an hour and it was done. You stood over him, smiling as you said, “My boss will be here soon to collect you, no more cute shit.”
To your surprise, Dean returned your smile, “Or you could sit on my face and see how long it takes me to chew through your jeans.”
I dunno, man. Writing feels so awkward right now. Just calling this first chunk of fics what they are: hot piles of shit.
Don't read unless you like to suffer.
I also don't use AI, so I'm doing my best on spelling and grammar but it's just me right now. If you see something wrong, lemme know. It's okay, I'm dumb.
smut🖤| angst🩸| writing🔪| done⚰️
Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes - Dean x Reader 🩸
Warnings: Smut, fluff, mild angst, sex toys, truth or dare gone horribly right, and BDSM.
Listening to: Working Bitch by Ashnikko
Summary: Bucky trying to be helpful, too bad you can't be helped.
Author's Note: THIS IS A REPOST. And it's my work, I can do what I want with it. So, if this is giving you that deja vu feeling, it's because I posted this on 03/20/23 at 4:52pm CST. Since I'm only going to be reposting Past Lives after this.. um.. it's been fun?
Included the outfit the MC is wearing that I made before I posted this the first time, picture at the bottom.
REMINDER: Thanks for reading! I will not be continuing this, so please, I'm begging you, don't ask. I wrote this 2 years ago.. please just say thank you.. or you nutted.. or you are excited for Past Lives.. anything but asking for a part 2. I seriously hate it. Doesn't matter how nice you type it, it feels like a demand and in this fuck-onomy.. i have zero fucks left
Collapsing on the couch, you sigh and wait. It had been a very long day, and all you wanted to do was eat something, get a hot shower, and pass the fuck out. It isn’t until a few minutes pass that you realize Bucky isn’t inside yet.
You lament loudly, struggling to push yourself up on the couch. Glaring at the door, you shout, “Buck! The fuck you doin'?!”
Met with only silence, you lean back and watch through the screen door—still nothing. More groaning and some muttered cursing, you stand and go to the door. Pushing the screen door open, you can see the jackass standing at the trunk and yell, “Dude.”
He’s about thirty feet away but heard you just fine. Jumping slightly as he looked over his shoulder at you, he points at the trunk and explains weakly, “Your backpack was open, and your stuff—”
“Close it and get cooking,” you say, leaning against the doorframe.
Turning to face you, Bucky says, “I am, but your stuff is all over the trunk.”
Out of context, what you were about to say to him sounded rude. You knew it, and he knew it. But you liked to play games, and Bucky never seemed to mind. He had lost the most recent one, which meant he was basically your slave until you got back to the compound. You affectionately called this role: bitch.
Rolling your eyes, you spoke loud enough for his super soldier hearing to pick up but not anyone else that might have the misfortune of being nearby, “Then be a good little bitch and pick it up. It’s not hard. Just shove it back in the bag, zip it up, and move your ass. I’m starving.”
You didn’t wait for him to reply and let the door slam as you went back to lying on the couch. Bucky was a good dude, but sometimes he could be frustrating to work with. He was literally old-fashioned and didn't have the same sense of urgency about things as ordinary people. Like when you hadn’t had anything to eat since the day before, gone on a mission, burned at least a couple thousand calories, and needed food. You weren’t the nicest when hungry, but he never seemed to care what you said to him. The most you’d ever gotten out of him was a dismissive eye roll.
💙
Bucky was grumbling to himself as he shook his head. Back to grabbing your stuff that was scattered on the trunk floor and shoving it into your bag. He had been trying to put things back in a way that made sense and wasn't just shoving it all back in, but apparently, that had been a mistake.
The last thing he picked up he didn’t recognize. Holding it closer to the light in the trunk, he turned it over a few times in his hand. It might be yours. Nothing else had been rolling around in the trunk, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
He turned the blue cylinder, which was maybe four inches long and an inch in diameter and covered in soft silicone. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there wasn’t anywhere to turn it on and no light. He wasn’t sure if this thing was yours but knew it wasn’t his, plus none of his stuff had fallen out.
Debating on what to do with the thing, he knew that if it wasn’t yours and he put it in your bag, you would make fun of him. Nothing he couldn’t handle, and it might even be funny with some of the language you use, but he’d rather avoid looking stupid around you. However, if it was yours and missing, then he was the one that found it for you; you’d be happy. He might even get a ‘thank you’ out of you. That would be something notable.
Shoving it into his back pocket, he took the rest of the things from the trunk. As you said, more than one trip was for cowards whenever you lost. You didn’t have a vibranium arm that could handle carrying six grocery bags, two backpacks, and three duffel bags, but that never stopped you.
His mind was back on what he’d found as he walked toward the cabin. It looked like that Bluetooth speaker you’d gotten last year, but it was much smaller. Maybe it was a toothbrush, or something he wouldn't even think could be that small. Bucky was curious to find out what it was, and you seemed to understand this stuff instinctively.
Whenever you’d get new things, like the Bluetooth speaker, you’d explain what they were and how they worked. Yes, you were condescending, but that never bothered Bucky, and he didn’t understand half of what you said anyway.
As he got into the small cabin, the electricity and water already turned on, he set the bags down on the small table. You were on the couch and looked almost peaceful, and you were almost cute when you weren’t scowling or cackling like a demon. It would be a shame if someone ruined this moment for you.
Bucky, grinning to himself, picked up your backpack and quietly walked to the couch before dropping your bag on your chest.
“The fuck, bro?!” you shout as you sit up and shove your backpack onto the floor.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Bucky said, “Good, you’re awake. Go shower first, and I’ll handle the food.”
You grinned up at him, grabbing your bag as you said, “Baller.”
He tried to think of what that might mean but didn’t want another headache. Shrugging, he said, “Sure,” and then went to the kitchen.
As he got dinner ready, he didn’t mind this downtime with you. Out of everyone, even when you were angry, you were still better company than the others. You never pried into what he might be thinking about or bothered him, and you’re funny, even if it is unintentional most of the time.
His favorite is how you make up games. He loses most of them but seeing how excited you get when you beat a super soldier is better than winning. When he first met you, he had thought you were like a little sister, but then you started talking and ruined any idea he might have had about you.
💙
Not even five minutes of being in the bathroom, you have your entire backpack emptied on the floor and your hands in your hair as you stare at it all. Where the fuck is your vibrator?
You knew that you had put it in the inner pocket of the main pack. You always put it there because it had a strong velcro closure that laid flat, and someone digging in your bag wouldn’t even notice it. Adding that pocket had been intentional to avoid precisely this situation.
Taking a deep breath, you thought hard as you pieced together what you’d done with your backpack after packing it at the compound. You had ditched it in the trunk and then didn’t touch it until after the mission. Pretty confident that you’d only been in it once while driving to the cabin, you replayed the events to see if you’d done something. The idea that Bucky had found the pocket was laughable, and it was most unlikely that he'd take something that didn't belong to him.
It was about halfway through the drive at a gas station, and you were cold. You got out and popped the trunk, digging in your bag and pulling out your sweater—anxiety rushed through you, and your shoulders and neck tensed. Your sweater had been caught on something, and you jerked it out of the bag.
The sweater could have been stuck on the velcro and had been shoved in the bottom of your bag. The only reason you had been in a rush to get it out was that Bucky wanted to get back on the road, so you didn’t bother closing your bag. Fuck.
Glancing at all your stuff on the floor, he’d put everything else back, and he wouldn’t be able to tell your blue vibrator from a power bank. Back in his day, they probably still used rocks or wood. You grimaced at the vague notion of a wooden dildo, shuddering at the thought of splinters in unpleasant places before you were back on your feet and out of the bathroom.
You hoped that he might not have seen it in the trunk and that your toy hadn't fallen on the ground. Doing your best not to look like you were freaking the fuck out as you walked down the hallway toward the door, you were interrupted.
“That was quick,” Bucky said as he leaned against the counter.
No shit, it was quick. You hadn’t showered, and when you did shower, you had your blue vibrator. Showers should take a while; they’re fun. Instead of going off about that and resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you decide to check if he’d seen anything, “Question. When you said that my stuff fell out, did you grab everything or—”
“Are you missing something?” he cut you off and was leaning on the counter.
He was too interested too quickly, and you panicked, “I dunno.”
Standing, Bucky grimaced as he grabbed the keys and pointed over his shoulder at the door, “I can go check—”
“Nope,” you cut him off, dashing around him and out the door as you shouted, “I got it, don’t you worry your pretty, empty head about it.”
Inside you were screaming. You’d fucked up. You shouldn’t have acted so weird, but now Bucky could tell something was up. It was too late, and you shrieked when the trunk popped open. Glancing behind you, you saw Bucky not even ten feet away. At the car, you gave it a cursory glance before you started pulling up the carpeting and running your hands along the edges.
“What do you think you’re missing?” Bucky asked as he came to a stop next to the car, “I’ll help look. I lost the game and… you okay?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic, Holmes,” you hissed before looking up at him and adding, “Don’t worry about it.”
He leans on the car, and you can feel him watching you lose your mind as he says, “Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help. What color is it?”
Butt-fucking Christ without lube, he knew. You stood, quickly weighed the pros and cons, then offered weakly, “Blue… I think.”
Bucky grinned, and you wanted to throw up on him as he said, “Oh, this?” Then he reached into his back pocket and explained, “I didn’t know what it was….”
As he pulls out your vibrator, your mind goes blank. Your favorite blue vibrator is being held between Bucky’s pointer and thumb. You aren’t able to process it, but notice how ridiculously small your toy looks in his hands.
You take a deep breath, so you don’t sound strange when you ask, “Why was it in your pocket?”
“What is it?” he asked, and you knew Bucky had been playing stupid, but he wasn’t anymore.
“You don’t want to know,” you say calmly, but still move quickly to snatch it from his hand.
Before you even get close, he wraps his entire hand around your vibrator and holds his fist over his head. You can deal with how your toy just disappeared inside his hand later; it might be fun to think about—big hands and all the things that tend to go with them, but not right now.
He stepped back and said, “Now I need to know.”
You hold your hand out and lie, “Give it to me, then I’ll tell you.”
“No,” he shakes his head before demanding, “Tell me, then I might give it back.”
“I don’t know you like that, man. Same time,” you try to distract him with cartoon logic, but it doesn't work.
Bucky shakes his head again, narrowing his eyes as he says, “Whatever it is must be important….”
“It’s the only thing that keeps me from punching you in the face,” you sound angry, unable to hide it from your voice as you glare at him.
He laughs before dropping his hand, “It doesn’t make coffee or whiskey. Quit lying.”
“It makes a lot of things,” you say as you take a step toward him and continue in a dangerous tone, “But I can guaran-fucking-tee you don’t want to know. So.” Barely a foot between you as you stare up at him, you hold your hand out and do your best to sound like you aren’t about to freak out, “C’mon, hand it over. Be a bro.”
He laughs and makes a face you can only describe as a combination of 2006 duckface and minute two of a colonoscopy before he shoves your vibrator into his back pocket again. He slaps his thighs and starts to back away, saying, “Nope, not until you tell me what it is.”
You whole ass panic, slamming the trunk and running after him. The internal debate about tackling him and digging in his back pocket is brief but unnecessary as you shout, “It’s a sex toy!”
Bucky stops abruptly, pulling it out of his pocket, studying your vibrator as he asks almost too quietly for you to hear, “How, though? It’s tiny….”
You manage to catch up to him as he’s going back into the well-lit cabin and hear him mutter, “This can’t be….”
“It is, and you are manhandling him,” you hiss as you reach around him to get it.
Barely acknowledging you but keeping you at bay, Bucky asks, “Him?”
You give up, shoving his back as you say, “You have got to be shitting me.”
Bucky was looking at it. Like, really LOOKING at it. You had to be losing your mind at this point, but he started talking, “Didn’t think you’d be the type to… wait.”
He looks like he just found out about two girls one cup before he asks, “Is this why you take so long in the shower?”
“Well, this has been a real… shitshow,” you start to say, aiming your matching set of finger guns at the door before you add, “I’m just gonna go… anywhere else. Traffic sounds nice; maybe a volcano.”
Bucky steps in front of you and blocks the door as he rattles off questions, “Why’d you bring it on a mission? Do you bring it everywhere? Do you do that everywhere? I know that ‘everybody does it,’ but… wow.”
He had clearly been spending too much time around you; that’s what this was. You sigh, let your shoulders drop, then reach to take your vibrator out of his hand again. He’s faster than you, squeezing his hand around it and holding it above his head, but there’s something new this time. Instead of getting angrier, the muffled buzzing sound coming from his hand fills the room.
You are staring into his shocked eyes as you come undone. It’s too funny. As you doubled over laughing maniacally, you didn’t miss that Bucky's face was turning a deep red, and he completely understood what he was holding.
Leaning on the counter, you pull yourself together enough to say, “If you wanna borrow it, just wash it before you give it back.”
Your vibrator, still vibrating, is dropped in front of you on the counter. No longer in any sort of panic, you turn it off as Bucky keeps his back to you and says, “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Taking a seat, you point out, “You wanted to know, and now you do. I could show you how to use it.
He rests his hands on the counter, still facing away from you, as he says in an exasperated voice, “You’re a deviant.”
“Jealous?” you ask, the irritation returning but at being judged.
He didn’t reply or say anything else for the rest of the night. You were ready for anything he might say. Specifically that he was the one playing Keep Away with your vibrator, even after he knew what it was. Bucky was just as culpable for that exchange as you were; if anything, he was the weird one. Why did he care so much about what you did to relax?
After dinner, you took a shower but didn’t use your toy. You wanted to clean it, and you weren’t in the mood. Sometimes Bucky said things that would stick in your head and calling you a deviant was a particularly sticky word.
It didn't help that he frequently appeared in your thoughts while using your vibrator. You probably shouldn’t do that anymore, but he’d never know. Plus, he had no right to look the way he did; it wasn’t fair.
💙
The following day was a completely different story. You grabbed your nonwork clothes, a towel, and toiletries with a special guest: your little buddy. After cleaning him thoroughly, then yourself, you were using it.
Surprisingly, it didn't take you that long, but you had an idea about that. While you got dressed, you knew you’d never admit that the idea of Bucky using your toy on you had been the culprit. Along with seeing him holding it and how ludicrously small it was in his hand. Men like Bucky shouldn’t be allowed, but they were, and you were weak.
You wore your usual relaxing clothes for the fall weather: gray leggings, black leg warmers, gray wool socks, a pair of black shorts with your favorite Pokemon on the ass, and one of your favorite t-shirts, plus the same black sweater that had been the cause of yesterday’s nonsense.
You weren’t mad at a sweater, but you also weren’t very happy with it.
The shorts and your t-shirt made you smile. Bucky never seemed to notice what you wore, which was probably for the best. The only people who would notice and ask you about them were back at the compound. Your taste in clothing had more to do if it made you cackle the first time you saw it or if it was functional. You never went out wearing any of your silly stuff; it was for the in-between times, like today.
Leaving the bathroom, you put your stuff away in your room and hang your towel. Securing your vibrator in its pocket, you know you’ll be using him again. It’ll be at least another day up here before you and Bucky start heading back to the compound.
Bucky.
You hesitate before leaving your room because he’s out there and part of you doesn’t want to deal with him. So you try to talk yourself out of your room. Nothing to fear but fear itself or some shit like that.
Even if Bucky had guessed what you did in the shower, he did it too, probably. All he had was specific information, but he wouldn’t do anything with it. This didn’t matter. He was going to be weird for another day or two, and then he’d forget about it and return to his usual, mostly dull self.
Feeling much better, you open the door and confidently walk out to the kitchen. Bucky is on the couch reading, and you say, “Morning.”
He didn’t look up or reply, apparently still giving you the silent treatment. You didn’t care and went to the kitchen to get some coffee. Even if he was butthurt, he still made coffee. You leaned on the counter, facing away from him, as you sipped coffee and checked your phone.
Mid sip, Bucky said ominously, “I heard you.”
You choked and turned around as you coughed before you asked, “What?”
He still wasn’t looking up from the book, and it clicked into place. You sighed and went to get something to clean up the spilled coffee as you said, “Be a normal person and pretend you didn’t.”
“Or don’t do it,” he offered, and the urge to throw the coffee cup at him was hard to ignore.
You glared at him and said, “Or don’t listen, demand information, or—what?”
Bucky had a concerned look on his face, or he was fighting a burp. It was so hard to tell with him, but he clarified by saying, “Your shirt.”
Glancing down, you grinned, “What about it?”
“What’s it mean?” he asked, closing his book and narrowing his eyes at you.
“Bucky-boy, trust me when I say you don’t want to know,” you said as you finished cleaning up the mess, “You didn’t listen last night, and look where that got you.”
You turn around to get a new cup of coffee, and Bucky asks yet another question, “What’s a ‘squirter’?”
Stunned for a moment before you remember your shorts, you giggle as you look back at him, “You sure you wanna know?”
He sets his book on the end table and gets up. Walking toward you, he asks, “Don’t you have another shirt that says something about that restaurant you and Lang keep talking about?”
Grinning wide, you answer, “The ‘I got pegged at Cracker Barrel’ shirt? Yeah, that’s a good one.”
Leaning on the counter and glaring at you, Bucky says sullenly, “Guess I’m not supposed to ask about that either.”
You take a sip of coffee before you say, “It’s for your own good.”
Setting the cup down, you go to the grocery bags and start digging before being interrupted by Bucky, “What are you doing?”
You shrug, “I’m hungry?” Then it hits you. The game. Shit.
The most recent one that Bucky had lost started at the end of the mission. Just a simple race to the car, and you’d beaten him by maybe two seconds, but it still meant he was bitch until you got back to the compound.
The handful of times you lost and refused to let him do much more than go to the bathroom without help, but that was the point. No one else played your games as dutifully as Bucky, making him slightly less tedious to be around.
Instead of fighting this, you put your hands up and back away, “Forgot you were bitch.” You didn’t add that it was because he was acting like a bitch. That wouldn’t help anything. Bucky insisting on sticking to the game had to be a good sign that things would get back to normal in no time.
“What do you want?” he asks as you go back to the counter for your coffee.
You are so tempted to be rude but decide to play nice, “Whatever.”
Not paying attention to him, you scroll through your phone. Because of what you do, you can’t have any real social media accounts, and you settle for passively watching from anonymous accounts. Usually, looking at old friends or people you used to know before the accident that revealed your abilities, it was weird. Seeing people you used to get drunk with during football games getting married, and having kids, but it didn’t matter.
“New game, no stakes?” Bucky cuts through your thoughts.
You don’t look up from your phone. Seeing the happy faces and an occasional mention of how someone misses you or thought about you is distracting. You found two today, and they always walloped you. All your life until that point, you’d never been sick or had a serious injury, but no one thought much of it. It wasn’t until the fire you hadn’t gotten out of that it made sense. You’d passed out and woken up in the smoldering rubble, unharmed and staring up at Phil Coulson, who offered you a cup of coffee. Declared dead, you went with Phil and didn’t ever really look back, except for times like these.
Bucky was standing near you, and you looked up, “What?”
“New game?” he reiterated, and you shrugged, so he added, “You can’t act like this isn’t uncomfortable now.”
Flipping your phone over, you point out, “That’s not a game.” He rolls his eyes and goes back to cooking, so you say, “And you’re the one with the suppressed sexuality and morality crisis. I’m perfectly content being a pervert.”
“So…” he started, glancing at you over his shoulder, “Be a bro?”
You cackle. This is precisely what you need to not think about sad shit. Slapping the counter, you explain, “We are not bros. We are barely homies. Just calm your tits and make me breakfast, baby girl.”
“See, that’s the stuff I don’t get,” he says as he continues to cook.
This was how it was supposed to be. You running your mouth, and Bucky confused; the world made sense again. You grin and ask, “Where did I lose you? Was it the tits or baby girl?”
He points at you, then down to your shirt with the spatula, “The new game. You explain things, starting with the shirt.”
“Your funeral.”
“I’m aware. Shirt. What’s it mean?”
“Okay, um…” you start as you try to figure out how to explain this without going off on a tangent about Trent Reznor, “There’s a band, Nine Inch Nails, and my shirt is a joke about big dicks.”
Bucky stops and looks at you for a moment like he’s trying to remember the Pythagorean theorem before he nods, “Okay.” He goes back to cooking and asks, “What’s pegging?”
“That’s a pretty steep jump, Buck,” you say, trying to fight the giggle fit.
As Bucky finishes dividing the scrambled eggs, he walks over to you but doesn’t give you a plate, “Pegging or no food.”
“Never thought you’d ask, but if you insist,” you giggle, but he doesn’t get it, so you add, “Bend over, big boy, I’ll make sure you have a good time.”
He looks confused, and you start laughing, “It means bend over? That doesn’t—”
You lean on the counter, look him dead in the eye, and say, “Bend over, and I can show you what pegging is.” Bucky’s face falls into its usual grimace, but you grin up at him before explaining, “It’s when someone like me uses a fake dick on someone like you. Ya know. F you in the A.”
Your eggs are getting cold as he mutters to himself, “Fuck you in the A?”
“Fuck you in the ass,” you snap before holding your hands out, “Food, please, and thank you.”
Bucky hands you your plate before he asks, “Why do you know this stuff?”
With your mouthful of eggs, you shrug before swallowing, “It’s funny… or fun, most of it is both. Aren’t you gonna eat?”
“Yeah,” he says absently, setting his plate down before he asks, “What about your shorts?”
You exhale and don’t particularly want to do this, but once you start something, you finish it. It takes you a moment to organize your thoughts before you start explaining, “Well, the little turtle guy is called Squirtle. He’s a pokemon. It’s, um… anime, like a cartoon, but also a game, never mind. Squirting is… um…”
When you don’t keep talking, Bucky sighs, “Just say it.”
Hesitantly you offer, “It’s like how guys cum but better.”
“What?” Bucky drops his fork and just stares at you.
“You told me to just say it,” you remind him before explaining in your own words, “It’s making a chick gush when you get all up in her guts real good.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bucky says through clenched teeth, “Now try again in English.”
This takes some time as you try to think of the right words, then you slap the table when it comes to you, “Female ejaculation. It’s when a chick pees when she cums, or it isn’t piss. That sorta depends on who you ask.”
Now that he isn’t asking questions and you don’t have anything else to explain, the awful silence is back and stretches on forever. You liked working with Bucky because he wasn’t overbearing, and it was easy to be around him. Now you were very uncomfortable, and this was far from easy. He hadn’t gone all creepy uncle on you, but this was closer than you liked to be.
It was starting to feel like he was watching you too closely and dissecting everything you did for any signs that you were a freak. You were a freak, but he didn’t need to be so judgemental about it. The discomfort was quickly changing to anger, and that didn’t end well for anyone.
Getting angry about his reaction was easy. He had pushed you to this point. The funny thing was, you hadn’t been worried about what other people thought for a long time. It wasn’t like he found out about your crush on him and was weird about that. He would be so weird about it too. He’s just discovering what happens when he gets too curious about this stuff and is not prepared for the reality of the situation. You were discrete about these things but distinctly not ashamed of it, or at least you had been.
💙
After a few hours of being pointedly ignored, you had had enough. Bucky kept glaring at you, you were fuming, and if he wasn’t going to be the adultier-adult, then you had no choice.
Turning on the couch to face him, you asked, “Why are you being weird?”
“What?” he asked, looking up from the table where he was cleaning guns. When he saw that you were returning his glare, he shrugged, “I’m not being weird.”
“Fine. New game,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t turn this down.
Setting down the part he was oiling, he was wiping off his hands as he said, “Fine.”
“Bitch for a whole week,” you say, and Bucky nods. This was how all the games started. One of you suggests a game, and then you state the forfeit; only after agreeing does the other find out what the game is. You rest your arm on the back of the couch as you grin, “Good. Truth or dare?”
Bucky immediately looks irritated, he hates this game, but it’s too late. No one but you takes the games more seriously than Bucky. Barely audible, he chooses “Truth.”
Without hesitation, you ask, “Last time you got laid?”
He sits up a little straighter, almost like he can handle this, and says, “1942.”
“Fuck off, how?” you are shocked. It had been a couple of years since your last disappointment, and you thought that was fucked up. Shaking your head, you said quickly, “Don’t answer that. Truth.”
It takes him a few minutes before he shifts uncomfortably and asks, “Why’d you bring that….”
“My vibrator?” you ask, and he nods. You roll your eyes as you say, “If you can’t say it, I shouldn’t have to answer.”
He takes a deep breath and asks again, “Why did you bring your vibrator on the mission?”
You weren’t entirely sure how to best answer this and settled on being honest. Not like it could do any more damage.
“You really wanna know?” you ask.
“Not how the game works,” he points out.
Sighing, you explain, “It’s like a special treat, and it helps me sleep, and it feels good. Why else would someone fap?”
“Fap?” he asked, looking stressed.
“Oh for fuck’s sake…” you shake your head and are ready to pull your hair out. Glaring at him, you rattle off, “Masturbation, practicing advanced loneliness, DJing your own party, the Devil’s handshake. One of those has to make sense to you.”
Bucky simply blinks a few times, and as you wait for him to say something, you can’t help but notice that he has some color to his face. Is he blushing?
“Truth,” he says before you can analyze his reaction further.
Up until this point, you had questions ready to go, but now that the game was in motion, you needed to choose carefully. The only way to lose was if one of you refused to answer or couldn’t come up with a good prompt. You bite your bottom lip before you ask, “How often do you take care of yourself, Bucky?”
He is blushing and more uncomfortable than you’d ever been in your entire life as he looks away and answers, “Um… I don’t know.”
“When’s the last time then?” you ask, then add, “You heard my last time, which is fucking weird, so it’s only fair.”
You are aware that this isn’t fair and that it’s none of your business. Just because he heard you doesn’t mean you suddenly have permission to know about his masturbatory habits. If you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want to know, but you can’t stop yourself. You are competitive and can't back down.
Bucky is turned away from you, arranging the gun parts in front of him, but still answers, “A few days before the mission… I think. Maybe a week.”
“Oof, that’s rough. I’d ask if it’s because you're old, but I’m good,” you do your best not to make this worse, but like with most things that come out of your mouth, it doesn’t work. You wait a few seconds to see if he’s going to pull himself together, and when he doesn’t, you say, “Truth.”
“Do you always bring it on—your vibrator on missions?” he asked almost immediately.
Usually, Bucky didn’t have questions or dares ready to go, this was not a good sign, but you were prepared to answer, “If I have my backpack, then he’s coming….” You giggle before adding, “...and so am I.”
He has turned away from the guns and is looking at you like you're a dog just going to town cleaning its own ass. Not the best feeling to be looked at with so much disgust, but worse things had happened. His face settles into mild disappointment before he says, “Truth.”
You stretch your arms over your head for no reason other than your back feeling kind of tight and ask, “How much did you hear this morning?”
“Um…” and he is back to the gun. Shifting pieces as he exhales loudly through his mouth, he says, “It took you twelve minutes and forty-two seconds.”
“Wow, never timed it before,” you say automatically. It’s easy to ignore Bucky's discomfort now because you’re more concerned that he timed you. Even though you know that continuing this is a bad idea, it doesn’t stop you from saying, “Truth.”
Bucky is facing you again, his face almost red now, and he seems genuinely pissed as he asks, “Does it normally take you that long?”
“Bucky!” you shout, feigning shock and putting a hand on your chest like you’re offended, “The audacity!” As you push yourself to your feet, you start laughing and walk to the kitchen to get water as you explain, “I prefer to enjoy the process over the final product.”
He turned in his chair to follow your movement, then looked down at the ground as he said, “Dare.”
Finally, you get to have real fun. You join him at the table, setting your water down as you glance around the room and speak, “Hmm… I dare you to… not lose the game.”
“That’s not a dare,” he says, but he doesn’t sound uncomfortable. He looks and sounds like the weird old guy you like going on missions with again.
“Care to add to the forfeit?” you ask, hoping he’ll take the bait.
He tilts his head and says, “Two weeks.”
“A month and that includes everything, just like after a mission,” you say as you hold your right hand out.
He takes your hand and says ominously, “You’re going to regret this.”
“Truth,” you say as you lean back in the stiff wooden chair.
Mirroring your position, Bucky says, “Favorite person to work with.”
“Pfft, that’s easy. You,” you answer, planning to lull him into a trap. With a few easy questions and dares, then you’re going to crush him.
“Really?” he asks, and you glare at him. He shrugs and says, “Figured it would have been Lang, maybe Wanda. Um, truth.”
You nod, “Same question.”
“You only get one of those,” he says in a bored voice, before taking a deep breath and answering, “You.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you blurt, unable to stop the smile, “I thought you’d prefer Steve.”
“You don’t ask how I’m feeling, and normally I like the games,” he says before adding quickly, “Don’t tell him.”
“Oh… secrets, my favorite,” you say excitedly, leaning forward as you choose, “Dare.”
“Handstand,” he offers.
You groan, “Pick a real dare, coward.”
“You aren’t going to like it, and you will lose,” he warns, acting like he has some great dare he’s been waiting to unleash. He should have used it in one of the other dozen games you’d played where he lost.
It is nice that he seems like himself again, even though you still want to push him as you say, “Guess you want to be my personal bitch for a while.”
When all he does is clench his jaw, you ask, “Do you like doing everything for me? Is it some sorta weird caveman, 40s thing?”
Bucky glares at you when you cross your legs and add, “You can start by making me a sandwich, baby girl.”
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he says in a tense voice, “I don’t mind losing because you are so much easier to be around when you win, but if you insist….”
“Get over yourself and say it,” you goad him on. You know that whatever he’s planning is nothing to worry about.
Bucky crosses his arms and says a little too confidently, “Show me how you use the vibrator.”
“Fuckin’ what,” you couldn’t have heard him correctly.
He leans forward and carefully enunciates, “I dare you to show me how you use it.”
“Like… you put it—what?” you are at a complete loss in every way. You don’t even know what to say as you try to process that the most vanilla and easily flustered man, aside from his big blond buddy, just asked you to show him how you use a vibrator.
He waits a few seconds before he says, “I couldn’t think of anything else, and you dared me not to lose… so… go get it and show me or lose.”
That clarified your scrambled thoughts and gave you something to latch onto. Bucky would chicken out before you even turned it on, and he is betting on you being too scared to get it and start. Bucky doesn’t think you’ll do this.
You stand up and start walking toward your room but stop and say, “Weird word choice, Bucky.”
He looks up and says, “Huh?”
Leaning against the wall of the hallway, you elaborate, “You couldn’t think of anything else except for how I use my vibrator?”
With his jaw on the floor, you must resist skipping down the hall to your room. Grabbing your toy, you didn’t think you’d even need to turn it on but went to the kitchen to wash it off. As you dry your hands, you notice that Bucky is acting like he’s in trouble.
He looks up at you, and his eyes dart to the blue sex toy in your hand as he mutters, “I just—”
“Don’t try to act all shy now,” you cut him off as you go back to your seat at the table, “You’re a dirty old man, and you’ve been judging me since last night. That doesn’t mean I’ll let you win.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Bullshit,” you say as you point the toy at him, “You don’t get to act better than me now. You’re a pervert, but instead of doing it for fun, like me, you’re doing it to win a silly game.”
Part of you wonders if he recognizes the color yet, but you're too busy gloating. He’s going to break any minute now. It's almost funny how he's watching you like a dog waiting for something to fall off your plate.
Instead of giving him an out, you say, “Hopefully, I don’t need to explain basic human anatomy.”
Turning the vibrator on by clicking the flatter end twice, you say, “You turn it on, then put it against your clit, well, my clit, and then magic happens.” You lean forward after you finish and ask in a condescending tone, “You are aware that chicks can cum, right?”
His hands are on his lap in tight fists as he stares at the ground, but he still answers, “Yes.”
“Why you mad, bro?” you ask, unable to hide your amusement.
He looks up at you and says through clenched teeth, “Not. Mad.”
Leaning back in the chair, you turn the vibrator off, “You know that if I do this, things will change permanently.”
“I didn’t think you would do it,” he hisses, but he hasn’t moved an inch. It’s like he’s a statue.
Adjusting in your chair, you explain, “I’m a lot more than questionable clothing choices and fun vocabulary lessons, Bucky. Decision time. You really want me to do this, or are you gonna give up?”
He’s thinking, still looking like he might give himself a stroke with how angry he is, then he’s smirking, “No... If you don’t do it, then you lose. It’s your dare, not mine.”
You were ready for this and tried to look as innocent as possible as you asked, “So you want to watch me touch myself?” Bucky looks like he might faint, and you push further, “Do you like watching? Is that what you’re into?”
He still looks unnerved but replies, “No, and I’m starting to think you want to know what I’m into.”
Not your best moment, but you cackle and know you’ve won. Pulling yourself together, you level him with a withering glance and say, “You seem like a lights off kinda guy. Missionary. For procreation only. Bet you were gonna wait until marriage and still feel like a disappointment that you didn’t.”
“Not even close,” he says, and he seems more confident when he raises an eyebrow and says, “Either do it or lose.”
Well then, time to irrevocably change this relationship. Bending your left leg and resting your foot on the seat of the chair because spreading your legs would make this somehow weirder. You aren’t planning to undress. If he says this doesn’t count, you’ll strip, but you weren’t offering shit.
Making a point of staring right into his eyes, you turn the vibrator on again and start to lower it when he looks away. You roll your eyes but take this moment to put the toy in approximately the right place before you say in a bored voice, “I can just pretend if you can’t even look.”
That should have had him walking away, but today was not your day. Instead of getting up and storming out of the cabin, Bucky leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stares at you. You had seriously fucked up, and it’s only made worse when he asks, “Better?”
“I plead the fifth,” you whisper.
He narrows his eyes, which haven’t wavered from your own, and says, “You really are a deviant. Kinda girl mothers warn their sons about.”
“But I’m fun at parties, so I have that going for me,” you offer. Right now, you’d do just about anything to distract yourself. Staring at Bucky with your vibrator nowhere near where it’s supposed to be is a lot. You can’t be sure, but it definitely feels like you could cum from this, and that’s bad, but that’s when you notice something. His normally clear blue eyes are almost entirely black, and you know how you can distract him, which could make this worse… or better. Either way, you’re doing it.
Leaning back and shifting the toy so it won’t cause any problems, you ask, “I am exactly the type of girl your mother warned you about, aren’t I?”
He doesn’t back off and says, “You really want to talk about my mother right now?”
You shrug, “You brought up moms and won’t let any of this go.”
“How are you just talking while you’re doing that?” he asked, sounding like you were doing something impossible.
You knew that how you were doing this was cheating, but he’d never know, and you needed any help you could get. Making sure to sound bored, maybe even a little disappointed, you replied, “Surprisingly, this isn’t doing much for me.”
“Right…” he thinks for a minute, then says, “You were close earlier. Missionary isn’t bad, but it has to be done right.”
“You fuckin’ what,” you say, trying very hard not to think about 'missionary done right' with Bucky. Which is impossible and the only thing you can think about.
He smirks before he explains, “I wasn’t very… gentle before. And to answer the question you didn’t ask about why I haven’t tried since 1942.….” His voice trails off as his eyes dart down to your hand, then back up before he finishes, “I don’t want to hurt or kill someone accidentally.”
Your mouth hangs open as you process the information he just volunteered. Bucky is not stupid, a little misguided at times, but not dumb, and he is doing this on purpose. He knows you aren’t a super soldier, but you are considerably more durable than a regular person. You heal almost immediately and he is very aware of this fact.
“Neat story, bro,” you try to sound calm, but you are so far from calm that you don’t think you’ll ever be calm again.
Bucky finally leans back, but his eyes are between your legs again. He sighs before he looks up again and says, “Since you’ll probably be a while, gotta keep playing. Truth.”
Every cell in your body screams that you do not ask what he’s thinking. You can’t ask him anything, and you need to keep this neutral, or you will lose your mind, so you ask, “Having fun?”
Losing your shit internally, you wait as he narrows his eyes at you, “That’s a loaded question, doll.”
Doll? The fuck does that mean? Now you know what he feels like because he’s never tried calling you anything other than your name or 'bro' a handful of times. You don’t have time to figure that out and reply in an unsteady voice, “I’m aware.”
Again, his eyes dart down to your crotch then back up before he asks, “You sure you want me to answer that?”
“Coward,” you practically moan. This is too much, and you don’t want him to answer. You want him to get up and leave, or you could just drop dead. Maybe exploding would be fun; it felt like you were about to anyway.
Bucky looks away, back at the carefully set out gun parts on the table, and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t look at you as he says in a resigned voice, “One of us should be before this gets out of hand.”
You’d rather he shot you. The sudden rush of shame from everything that had happened since last night has your stomach churning. Turning the vibrator off, you mutter, “You win,” and get up.
Walking back to your room on legs you can barely feel, you slam the door behind you and then lock it. Shame was so far removed from your life that feeling it now was nightmarish. Sex, in all its forms, has never made you feel anything other than good. This was bullshit.
On the verge of tears, you tossed your vibrator at the wall, hearing it bounce a few times before rolling and settling under the bed. Sitting down, you couldn’t stop thinking something was wrong with you. The way he’d been looking at you had your skin crawling.
The banging on the door has a new rush of awful coursing through you, and you don’t hesitate to say loud enough for him to hear, “Fuck off.”
Bucky’s stupid voice on the other side of the door says firmly in reply, “No.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You really wanna lose that bad?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
You close your eyes and hear him kick the door open, then he says, “No.”
Not bothering to watch, you open your eyes and stare at the floor as he walks into your room and sits at the end of the bed. He didn’t say anything, and you could feel him staring at you again and couldn’t stand it, so you broke the silence, “Leave.”
“Make me,” he said, sounding more like you than you could stand before he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Get fucked.”
He didn’t move and sounded less confident as he pointed out, “You’re normally more creative with your insults….”
Taking a deep breath, you offered, “Eat my entire ass, scrublord.” When you finished, you glared at him and asked, “Better?”
“Are you into that?” he asked.
Covering your face as you laughed, you managed to ask, “How is that the one you know?!”
“That’s better,” he says, like this momentary lapse in your breakdown meant the worst was over. He sighed before he asked again, “Now, what’s wrong?”
Dropping your hands to your lap, you said, “Nothing. Get fucked.”
“This is your last chance,” he says, his voice sounding like someone talking to a child who has never spoken to a child, “Finish or lose.”
“I lose. No last chances, asshole,” you say, wondering if you could get him to leave if you started crying.
He didn’t move; instead, he said, “Technically… you completed your dare, and I didn’t answer the last question.”
“Who fucking cares?!” you shout, finally starting to lose your temper. The things you were feeling were starting to solidify, and if Bucky didn’t leave soon, you would be going into great detail on exactly what was wrong.
Sheepishly he said barely loud enough for you to hear, “Then I lose.”
Your eyes are wide as you stare at the floor. Too many thoughts in your head, and you just want to be alone, you snap, “For the love of fuck, answer the question then.”
“Yes.”
“What?” you ask, turning to look at him automatically.
He looks like a freshly kicked puppy as he says, “I was having... fun….”
“Shutup.”
He grimaces and says, “No. Truth or dare.”
How he dragged you back into this is beyond you right now, because you are too busy wondering how he was having fun. Was it making you squirm? Was it upsetting you? Did he actually like watching? But none of that mattered as you chose, “Truth.”
He didn’t hesitate and asked, “Favorite color?”
“Black, and you aren’t supposed to ask baby questions,” you remind him of one of the rules you’d both agreed on during the first game.
He grins, saying, “Then I’ll pick something else.” You don’t react, and he asks, “Why’s it blue?”
“That’s the color it came in,” you lie.
He shakes his head, “I looked it up. That one comes in many colors, including black and four shades of blue. Why that color?”
“It’s pretty,” you reply, which technically isn’t a lie. His eye color is very pretty, and you just didn’t specify the inspiration for the color choice, only the reason.
Bucky seems disappointed as he says, “You aren’t very creative when you’re lying. Truth.”
The now familiar pang of shame is back and you ask, “Why’d you come in here?”
“You’re upset,” he answers.
You shrug, “So? Why’d you come in here?”
He shifts on the bed, and you can hear his vibranium arm; he's clenching his fists. It takes him a moment before he explains, “I didn’t know why you were upset… I felt bad, and figured I could… never mind.”
“Not how the game works,” you say, reminding him of another rule that had been decided during the first game. Neither of you can chicken out, or you lose.
You can hear him taking deep breaths, clearly struggling, but you don’t care. Whatever he’s going through is his problem, and you have your own shit to deal with. Then he says, “I want to fix it.”
The next few minutes are some of the worst. It’s so tense in this room and this is the worst game of truth or dare you have ever played, and you’ve played so many of them. It was also the most confusing, so you decided to keep it going instead of stewing, “Truth.”
He doesn’t sound right when he asks, “Why’d you get upset?”
“Shame.”
A bark of laughter from him before he says, “You don’t have that. Don’t try lying.”
Lifting your head but still facing away from him, you explain and don’t bother hiding the hurt in your voice, “I feel disgusting and I’d rather be alone than continue to feel like this around you.”
“Wait, you’re serious. I didn’t—”
You don’t want to hear excuses, and he’s pushed you too far today. Cutting him off as you throw his words back at him since they’re already on repeat in your head, “You’re a deviant. What’s your shirt mean? What’s pegging mean? Why did you bring your vibrator? Why do you know all this stuff?”
Turning your head to look at him, the same broken expression on his face, and you finish it off, “Game’s over, Barnes. Leave me alone.”
His jaw tenses, and before you can look away, he says firmly, “No.”
“You can’t just keep saying ‘no’. The game is over,” you point at the door and continue in a detached-sounding voice, “Get the fuck out and let me feel like a piece of shit without a fucking audience.”
“I’m not leaving. Dare,” Bucky says, turning on the bed to face you.
“I dare you to leave me alone for the foreseeable future,” you say, not noticing that you turned on the bed to face him.
“Real dare or you’re bitch for a month,” he shoots back.
“Fine,” you hiss, and you don’t need time to think. You know that this one will be impossible and that this is the end of the almost friendship you had with Bucky, but that’s fine. You don’t want friends that made you feel like this anyway. Arching a brow, you say, “Fix it.”
Pushing himself off the bed, he doesn’t look at you as he says, “Be specific.”
“Fix my hurt feelings, Barnes,” you elaborate.
He paces in front of you for a minute before looking at you and asking, “Feelings I hurt?”
You nod, and he asks, “Can I ask how I hurt them?”
Shaking your head and getting more irritated, he has more questions, “Any limitations?”
“What?”
Hands on his hips, he says, “I can fix it any way I want.”
“Knock yourself the fuck out, bro,” you say before sighing.
“Good,” Bucky says before he looks around your room. He grabs your backpack and puts it on the bed, “Where’s your vibrator?”
“What? Why?” you ask, reaching for your backpack, but he pulls it away.
He starts digging in your bag as he explains, “You said it makes you happy, so….”
You snatch your bag, toss it to the floor, and say, “Not right now it won’t. And what would you do with it anyway?”
Bucky straightens and, without hesitation, says, “Use it on you.”
This is not happening, you think before you avert your eyes and say, “That’s not funny.”
“Would you rather I didn’t use it?” he asks.
Ducking your head, you reply, “Don’t even think about him. He’s dead to you.”
“Then I won’t use it,” he says, like he’s talking about having to use a pencil instead of his favorite pen. You close your eyes, and he interrupts your thoughts, asking, “How attached to those shorts are you?”
You glare at him, but he takes a few steps, so he’s standing directly in front of you, and says, “Answer the question.”
Dropping your gaze to your hands in your lap, you shake your head.
He sighs, but presses on, “Not attached, that’s good. You want a countdown, or would you prefer to be surprised?”
Without looking up, you mutter, “No to all of this. Just leave.”
He kneels, ducking his head to meet your eyes, and says, “Hi. Here’s the problem. You keep saying ‘no’, ‘leave me alone,’ which normally I’d respect and back off, but we both know….” His voice trails off as he leans close, only a few inches between you, as he finishes in a very particular tone, “You want me… to fix this.”
There is no fucking way he means what you think he means. You can’t help yourself as you lift your head and ask, “How are you planning to fix this?”
Bucky grins before he says, “It’ll be more fun if I show you, but if you want to ruin the surprise….” He stands, pushing himself up with his right hand on your thigh, then squeezes it. Hard.
Fuck, you think as you whimper, “Fuck.”
“I’ll ask you again,” he says, the same right hand that had been on your thigh guiding your face up toward his, “Do you want me to fix this?”
Barely audible, you reply, “Yes.”
He smirks before he says in that same dark tone that sounds like he’s giving orders, “Remind me what my title is, doll.”
You are very aware of his title and that your panties were effectively ruined, along with your leggings, shorts, and bedding; hell, the mattress didn’t even stand a chance. Cheeks burning, you tell him what he wants to hear even though you can’t believe this is happening, “Sergeant.”
Grabbing your jaw and tipping your face up again, he says, “Now answer correctly. Do you want me to fix it?”
Not looking away and almost too scared to look away, you reply in a steady voice, “Yes, Sergeant.”
He smiles down at you, “Good girl.” Loosening his grip, he runs his thumb along your bottom lip before he asks, “Any questions?”
“No, Sergeant,” you reply, even though you have a few stock questions regarding these things. Condoms, safeword, hard limits, but fuck all of that. You’re on birth control and clean. He must be clean since he’s a super soldier, they can’t get sick, plus he hadn’t gotten laid in decades. Overall, fuck it; let’s see what the old man can do. You also didn’t think he’d do anything too crazy. He probably just likes it rough.
He looks down at the floor for a second before he says, “If it’s too much, just say... ‘blue’.”
You were panicking, your eyes wide for a moment before he shoved you back and flipped you onto your stomach. He pinned your arms quickly behind your back and held them with one hand as you tried to keep your breathing even. This was not your first time being submissive or manhandled, just the first time in a while, but that was assuming that's what is going on.
His other hand, which has to be his left because you can feel the oddly cool metal against your skin as he grabs the waistbands of your shorts, leggings, and panties all at the same time. In one smooth motion, he jerks them all down to mid-thigh before he says, “Remind me what you say if it’s too much.”
You can feel his hand on your bare ass, and you reply quickly, “Blue, Sergeant.”
Unsure when he’d switched hands, you feel his distinctly flesh hand come down hard on your ass before he says in an almost proud voice, “Good girl, figured you’d understand how this works.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” you practically moaned. You hadn’t even reacted to him spanking you, he hadn’t put much force behind it, and you hoped he’d do it again.
You can feel him settling on the back of your thighs, kneeling on the bed as he works his right hand between your legs, “Ass up, doll.”
Doing as he says, you arch your back as much as you can, then gasp as you feel him spread your lips. You can feel him leaning back, and you know he’s watching as he slides a finger inside you. As he adds another, he sounds distinctly comfortable as he speaks, “Such a pretty little pussy. How long’s it been?”
“Almost four years, Sergeant,” you answer, biting your lip as he fills you slowly.
“Poor thing,” he sighs before asking in his normal voice, “Why?”
With glee, you reply, “I got sick of being disappointed.”
His fingers still inside you, he leans close and whispers, “You’ll let me know if I’m disappointing you, understood?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
A second later, and he’s off of you, but you know better than to move. You were even keeping your arms behind your back how he had them. You can hear what sounds like him undressing, but before you can really process that, he’s grabbing the mess of fabric between your legs. Pulling them off in one fluid motion, even your leggings cooperate and don’t cling to your legs as if they’re trying to do what he wants. Traitors.
His hands are on you again, positioning your arms, so they’re at your side, then he’s picking you up by the hips. You yelp when he drops you on the bed like you weigh nothing to him, and you're on all fours. His hands are on the backs of your thighs, sliding up to your ass as you grip the blanket beneath you.
When you feel his breath against your sex, you try to look over your shoulder but he slaps your ass hard at the same moment. You give up, turning your head to the side as you start to pant. You can’t stop yourself as he runs his tongue from your clit to your asshole, reaching behind you to hold yourself open for him.
Hearing and feeling him groan against your cunt has you losing your mind. His grip on your thighs would leave bruises on anyone else, but with your abilities, you learned to tolerate pain and enjoy it. Arching your back as much as you can, it might have been a while, but you knew the rules for these types of games, and ask, “May I cum, Sergeant?”
He chuckles, pulling back from you, “Already? Yeah, doll, cum for me.”
You could deal with what he was saying later; all you knew was you could relax. Bucky didn’t waste any time focusing on your clit. His tongue or lips was doing something that had your eyes rolling back, but that wasn’t what had you about to cum.
You could hear him eating you. He was not being quiet or polite, and aside from his moaning and the occasional grunt, there were the wet, sloppy sounds. It was absolutely delightful.
He’s gone again, but you got off. You wouldn’t mind if he kept going but let out a scream when he spanks you hard. His hands knead your ass as he orders, “Stand up.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” you reply obediently.
You scramble to your feet when he stops touching you but keep your eyes downcast. When he stands in front of you, he gently guides your head up then his hand drops. He plucks at your shirt and sighs. Before he can ask, you offer, “I can buy another one, but the sweater is special.”
He tilts his head, meeting your eyes as he says, “You’re going to look at me when you can.”
You nod, and he stands a little taller as he continues, “And keep track of how many times I make you cum… out loud. Don’t bother asking permission today.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” you reply, but you are focused on the last word he said. The fuck does he mean ‘today’?
Bucky takes a step back and says, “Undress for me, or that sweater isn’t going to make it.”
You quickly shrug off your sweater and pull your t-shirt then bra off. Bucky takes another step back and then holds his hand up, his pointer finger aimed at the ceiling as he circles it. You don’t say anything as you turn around.
Two quick steps and he’s grabbing your wrists as he asks, “Are you in shock or—”
“I’m good and not disappointed… yet,” you cut him off.
With both your wrists behind your back, held in place by his left hand, his right is on the back of your head, and he jerks your head back but sounds gentle as he says, “I’ll continue being considerate because it’s our first time. Do me a favor and clear something up for me. How do you like it?”
Grinning, you don’t bother trying to hide your excitement from your voice, “Hard, Sergeant.”
His hand is still gripping your hair, and he uses it to force you to bend at the hips. Facing the floor, you can hear his belt, and the odd disbelief that this is happening is back again. It’s more that this is what it’s like that has you stunned. Bucky always seemed to have control issues, but you didn’t think you’d be on the literal receiving end of them.
A moment later and something taps against your sex as he says, “Shame to ruin such a pretty little pussy. You have done this before, right?”
“It’s a muscle, Sergeant, and nothing’s ruined it yet,” you reply, slightly irritated that he thinks he has anything that could permanently change your anatomy. That idea of a big dick making a chick loose was so fucking stupid and is not how vaginas work.
He chuckles as he slides the head of his cock back and forth over your clit, and asks, “Most orgasms you’ve had in one day?”
“Ten-ish? Wasn’t counting, Sergeant,” you reply, thinking back to that particular night with an ex-girlfriend.
“And you’re good with no condoms unless you have some?” he asked, and you understood why he was stalling.
To say that this had you melting was an understatement. It wasn’t just that Bucky liked to be in charge, that he was good at it, or that he seemed concerned with your well-being and safety. No, it was how he made it seem easy and natural. You do your best to ignore this particular revelation and answer him, “I’m clean and on birth control, but I didn’t think I’d need to bring condoms on a mission.”
Bucky taps your cunt a few times with his cock as he says, “Good girl. That means we can have a lot more fun.”
At an agonizingly slow pace, he starts to push in. He’s big, and now you understand why he lamented your pretty little pussy. You weren’t worried he’d ruin it, but he was already ruining any other dick for you. Putting them to shame as he carefully worked his girth inside you, and you giggled.
The sounds he’s making are absolutely precious and are all the confirmation you need that he had not been lying about not getting any since the 40s. You start to lose your composure, moaning and trying to keep from saying anything. He is carefully working into you, hissing and muttering under his breath the whole time, but he hasn’t bottomed out yet.
Another inch, and you moan, “Fuuuuck… sorry, Sergeant.”
“Make all the noise you want, doll,” he says, pulling back and gasping.
You sigh before you say, “It’s a lot.”
“Yeah, it is,” he says more to himself, and you giggle.
Already more than you’d had before, you barely notice him grabbing your wrists again. One wrist in each hand, he brings them together behind your back. You focus on breathing as you prepare for him to start moving when he says, “Just a little more, doll, c’mon. You can take it—oh... such a good girl.”
He moaned the last part as he got the last of the nightmare he calls a dick inside you, and your legs started to shake. He pushes against you, grinding a little before he snaps his hips.
Your head pops up, and you scream, “Fuck!”
Twice more, he slams into you as he says, “Remind of your word, doll.”
“Blue, Sergeant,” you gasp, trying to breathe as your mind goes blank.
He pulls your ass flush against him and says in an amused voice, “Your knees are gonna give out.”
You do not care and start to whimper but end up shouting, “Pleasepleasepleasefuckfu—fuck! Thank you!”
Bucky does as you asked, hammering into you and jerking you back by your arms. Your mouth hangs open as he starts to increase the amount of strength behind each thrust. Your nails dig into your palms as you plead, “Pleasedontstoppleasedontsto—ah! Two!”
“Take it and don’t fall… good girl,” he says before slowing down.
He stills, dropping your wrists and grabbing your hips as he pushes inside you. A moment later, he has an arm hooked under your hips and the other planted in the middle of your chest. Bucky lifts and places you on the bed, then grabs your hips with both hands, immediately rolling his hips.
He’s still holding you up about a foot above the bed, but you get your arms under you and push yourself up. You can rest later, you want to enjoy this, and two orgasms aren’t enough to have you going full ragdoll.
His right hand is between your shoulder blades as soon as you prop yourself up on your arms. Your eyes are wide as you realize he doesn’t need both hands to hold you up with the vibranium one, and you almost miss him saying, “You are supposed to be enjoying this. Don’t push yourself.”
You comply, resting on your chest as he gets your legs out from under you. With your legs hanging at his side, you grab onto the bedding as he starts to thrust again. It doesn’t feel as deep now that you aren’t doubled over, but you’re already close again. As if he can tell, he starts pulling out further, jerking you back, and you lose control.
A second later and he was lifting you higher, entirely off the bed now. Bucky was holding you against his chest, and your legs were under your arms. Had he been lying down, it would have been like you were sitting on his face, but he was standing. Your cunt was in his face, and your head was by his waist.
As good as Bucky was at oral, it was not enough to distract you from the monster you were currently eye-level with. You had an odd moment when you realized it had already been inside you, but you weren’t deterred.
This wasn’t your first time being manhandled, and as good as this felt, you weren’t dumb. Sex wasn’t any fun if one person wasn’t giving as good as the other. Plus, you wanted to see if you could distract him.
Wrapping one hand around the middle of the beast, you arched your back and pushed on his thigh so you could get his dick in your mouth. The satisfied groan from him was all you needed to attempt to take as much of him as possible, but that wasn’t going to happen. You’d need to unhinge your jaw to do much and instead focus on the head of his cock.
A minute, or maybe less, he was gasping and flipping you over, “Enough.”
Gently, he puts you on the bed, so you’re facing him and grabs your jaw as he says sternly, “If you weren’t already getting something special… damnit.”
You smirk up at him and ask, “What’s wrong, Sergeant?”
“Nothing. How many, doll?” he asks, but he’s smiling at you.
Panicking a little because you can’t remember, you reply, “Four, I think. I’m sorry.”
He has a smug look on his face as he leans close, cups your cheek, and says, “Already losing count, tsk tsk….”
“It’s four, Sergeant,” you insist.
Bucky stands and grabs your ankles, pulling your legs against his chest. Your ass is off the bed again, and you push yourself up as best you can even though you know you won’t be able to hold this position long. He eases back into you, then smirks as he plants his foot on the bed before snapping his hips. You don’t last two thrusts before your arms give out, and you fall onto the bed.
Resting on your shoulders, your hands scramble to grab him as you shout, “Five!”
He doesn’t stop, his eyes locked on yours as he hugs your legs to his chest. Fucking you harder than before, you shriek, “Ahhh! Six!”
As you gasp, your back arches, and your legs lock up. He’s still going, and you are desperately trying to grab anything to hold onto. This might kill you but in the best way. Bucky’s so big and strong and destroying something inside you that you didn’t need anyway.
Your legs go limp, and you only know this because he changed how he was holding you. Legs falling open and dangling from his forearms, he lowers you to the bed and says in a calm, steady voice, “Breathe, doll. You’re gonna pass out if you don’t breathe for me.”
Taking a few gulping breaths, you stare at the ceiling as you say in a hoarse voice, “Sorry, Sergeant.”
“Stop that,” he says before leaning back and dropping his gaze. He watches as he pulls his cock out, then sinks back into you as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, besides….” His voice trails off as he looks up at you, “It’s been a while for you.”
You glare up at him because it's only been a few years for you, but he has what could easily be rounded up to a fucking century since his last time. Instead of reminding him of that, you decide to point out something he didn’t seem to notice, “You’re also fucking huge.”
Bucky grins, “Really?”
You want to slap him, but he slams into you before you can sit up and take a swing. He’s so deep inside and hard, even better than you ever imagined. After a few minutes of his steady thrusting, you scream, “Seve—Ahh!”
Clawing at his thighs this time, he doesn’t even react to that as he says without relenting, “Good girl… just like that. Such a good girl for me.”
You gasp, “Eight.”
You can feel your head spin, but he isn’t stopping this time. Barely loud enough to hear, you weakly mutter, “Blue….”
He doesn’t ask what you said or if you’re serious. Immediately Bucky is pulling out and next to you on the bed. His right hand brushes your hair away from your face as he whispers, “Just breathe. It’s okay. You did so well, doll.”
Still trying to catch your breath, you speak between pants, “I’m… not… done….”
Bucky smiles before he says skeptically, “You seem pretty done.”
Glaring up at him, you can talk normally even though you haven’t completely caught your breath, “It isn’t fixed yet, and I’m starting to feel a little disappointed.”
“You’re sure…” he says, not asking before he warns you, “If you pass out, we are done for today.”
You can’t help it when you ask, “For today?”
Bucky is getting back on top of you, moving your legs so that one is underneath him and the other is hooked over his elbow. He sighs as he lines himself up, then says, “Unless you prefer your little blue friend.”
“So, like, oh fuuuuck….” you had been trying to push yourself up when he cut you off. He seemed to like exploiting strange angles, but you weren’t deterred and finished your question, “You wanna be fuck buddies or something?”
His voice was calm as he smoothly rolled his hips, “We’ll talk about that later. Worry more about breathing, doll.”
He’s pulling back until just the head of his cock is inside you before filling you completely. You aren’t overwhelmed now that he isn’t trying to impersonate a sledgehammer, and you manage to get the leg against his chest straightened. He pulls it against his chest and asks, “Ready?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” you reply, hoping he will stand up.
Not loosening his grip, Bucky steps onto the floor and easily lifts you as he stands up. With one leg held against his chest, he pushes the other back toward your chest. His hand is on your hip as he stands over you, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours. He’s watching you closely as he straightens his legs and pushes down on you, moving you opposite him.
He sets a steady rhythm, fucking super soldier isn’t even breaking a sweat, and it takes barely a minute before you moan, “Nine… oh, fuck….”
“Breathe,” he says before his eyes dart to where his cock disappears inside your body with a moan.
You close your eyes and breathe as he pummels your poor, neglected cunt. For four years, it had only been pathetic vibrators, and jumping to this level of professional fuckery was insane. Either he’d actually ruin your pussy, or your brain would start leaking out your ears, and all you could do was focus on breathing.
Something abruptly changes, and your eyes are wide open and staring at him. He’s biting his bottom lip before a very distinct sound fills the room, and Bucky grunts, “Pretty girl, you've been holding out on me.”
Your hands grab his arm as the forbidden sloshing sound gets louder, and you whimper, “Ten….”
Bucky looked up at you, watching you for any signs of distress, but he didn’t stop. You feel a rush of warmth through your chest and know you are ruining this bed, but you manage to almost giggle, “Eleven… fuck, that’s so good.”
After that, Bucky stills, buried deep inside you, as he rests his head on your leg. He takes a few deep breaths before he looks down at you and moans, “You have no idea how good you feel.”
“Or it’s been 80 years,” you point out, and he glares at you, “Just saying….”
He doesn’t reply but has a knowing smirk as he starts moving you again. You aren’t complaining, but you do have an idea that if he stays in the same position too long, he might shoot his goo unintentionally. You don’t plan on asking.
Pushing you further onto the bed, Bucky kneels on the floor and grabs your legs. The beds at the cabin were an odd height, but it did mean that when Bucky got your legs over his shoulders, you were resting on your upper back again. You were surprised he was going down on you again but had other ideas.
Your plans get derailed as he starts kissing your inner thighs. Covering your face, you begin to giggle at how unreal this is when he asks, “Having fun?”
Dropping your hands and glaring at him, you tell him the truth, “I’ve never had someone so eager to go down on me who happened to be attached to a dick.”
Bucky rolls his eyes as he says, “I’m hungry, and you taste good.”
Your hands are back over your face as he gets back to work. Then you realize he’s doing that thing from earlier and manage to peek between your fingers to confirm it’s his tongue. That’s all you find out as you start to cum again.
As your hands try to find something to hold onto, they end up underneath you, and you find the best thing to hold onto. Remembering what you had wanted to do before Bucky distracted you, you start to stroke his cock with both hands.
Bucky sighs before he looks at you, “You don’t have to do that.”
“You don’t like it, Sergeant?” you ask; then he’s standing up, and his dick is out of reach.
Pushing both your legs toward your chest but keeping them spread, he runs his hands along your thighs before he asks, “You getting sore?”
“Dude…” you say as you try not to laugh at him, “I don’t get sore.”
Bucky drops his head and laughs, “Forgot about that.” He sighs before taking his cock in hand and placing it on your sex. He pushes it against you, slowly rocking his hips, before he asks, “Anything you like that hasn’t happened yet?”
It’s the combination of him teasing you after everything else, the easy joking, and seeing just how insanely huge his dick is that has you lost in the sauce. Thankfully, he spanks you with his left hand, and you are able to answer, “One thing, but it can wait.”
Leaning forward, Bucky is so close, and you realize that after everything, you haven’t kissed him, and you want to badly. That wasn’t what you had in mind when he asked if there was anything else you liked, but now that he’s this close, it’s added to the list.
“It can’t wait, doll,” Bucky whispers as he brushes his knuckles across your cheek.
“Two things now,” you blurt, panicking slightly.
He moves closer, playfully bumping his nose against yours as he says, “You have my full, undivided attention… Tell me what you want.”
“Okay, cool. Um…” you panic when it hits you that you have to say this out loud to him, but it’s too late now, “Have you heard of breeding kink?”
Leaning back so he can look at you properly, he starts, “Pretending to….” His voice trails off as you nod vigorously. Licking his lips, he says, “Oh, I can knock you up. What’s the other one?”
You don’t let yourself enjoy this; you're too busy fretting over what this is. If what you are currently doing with Bucky isn’t what you think it is, and if he doesn’t want—Bucky spanks you, and you blurt, “Kiss me, fuck… please?”
His face relaxes as he stares at you. It’s painful waiting for some sign that what you’d said wasn’t pushing too far, but then he’s leaning close, and his hand is on your jaw. Tilting your face up, he looks so serious but also unsure as he says quietly, “Didn’t know if you’d want that.”
“Please,” you whisper.
Nodding, Bucky runs his thumb along your bottom lip before he closes the distance. He had gone down on you three times, made you cum twelve—no, eleven times, and thoroughly rearranged your organs, but this would break you.
Your hands, which had been resting on his thighs, were on his face. One of them drifted to the back of his head while the other was on his cheek, your thumb stroking his surprisingly soft stubble. You parted your lips, carefully isolating his bottom lip before gently sucking on it, and he groaned.
His mouth was open, and you held him in place above you as you kissed. For a moment, he let you be in control but seemed unable to stop from rolling his hips. A second later, his arms were underneath you.
With no effort on his part, he stood and picked you up. His forearms hooked under your knees and his left hand on your back, he said, “Get your legs up higher.”
You did as he asked, getting your knees over his shoulders as he reached under you. Unsure about what he was trying to do, you couldn’t help but giggle, then you felt him at your entrance.
He raised his eyebrows before saying, “Really? Knew you weren’t exactly delicate….”
You giggled again, but a moan cut it off as he filled you. He exhaled once he was back inside you and asked, “You like a little pain, huh?”
All you managed was a brief nod before he moved. Every time he pulled back and thrust into you, you’d bounce off him and then back. This wasn’t about speed, it was about how much force he was using, and he was steadily increasing how hard he was fucking you. With the odd rhythm, every time you fell back onto him, he was already thrusting again.
You were cumming again and couldn’t be bothered to remember how many times. He didn’t seem to care as he muttered, “Fuuck… you have no idea how good you feel. Just one more, c’mon doll, don’t hold out on me.”
Lazily you look up at him, and he is staring intently before he says, “You want my cum, you gotta give me what I want.”
“Sonuvabitch,” you hiss, reaching up and grabbing the back of his neck.
With how folded up you are, it only amplifies the effect of his thrusts on you. You're digging your nails into his skin as you cum again, and he gasps.
Not pausing or even warning you, Bucky drops you on the bed. He’s still inside you and has your legs over his shoulder as he crouches over you and asks, “You want it?”
Deciding to hold onto the one thing you have going for you, you don’t hesitate to prove why you’re fun at parties as you pull him close and reply, “Cum in me, Bucky. I want it. I’ve been so good, and it’ll make me feel so much better.”
He adjusts, moving even closer and resting on his elbows as his arms bracket your head. Without a second thought, he kisses you again and whispers against your lips, “Might not take right away… Gotta keep trying till we’re sure.”
You are losing your mind, but that doesn’t stop you from saying, “Fuck, don’t sto—”
“You want it that bad?” Bucky asks as your orgasm cuts you off.
Whimpering, you nod, “Need it, please, Bucky.”
Kissing you roughly, Bucky hisses, “You want my baby in you that bad, then I’m gonna put one in you—oh, good girl, just like that.”
“Cum for me,” you manage to get out before he kisses you again.
You can feel how hard he is, and he’s moving faster, but his thrusts are shallow. He presses his forehead against yours and says in a rush, “Fuck, one more doll. Need you to make me cum.”
Before you can do anything, his right hand snakes between your bodies, and he circles your clit, ripping another orgasm from you. As soon as you start to cum again, he shouts, “Fuck.”
Your legs fall from his shoulders, and he lays on top of you as he fucks you in the missionary position, kissing you as he mutters, “Make you so happy, eat you every day for breakfast, fill your perfect cunt every night, fuck… fu—I’m, oh God….”
Bucky is still on top of you, but neither of you moved after he finished. You stare at the ceiling, feeling only half in your body as you try to process what happened. As if you were entirely on autopilot, you break the silence as you slap his ass, “Good game, bro.”
Sighing, Bucky pushes himself up and says, “Honestly, I’d be worried if you said something normal. So, thanks for that.”
“You are still balls deep, so…” you point out, realizing that even though it's been a few minutes, he’s still hard.
He drops his gaze and asks, “Is now a good time to let you know I don’t have a refractory period?” Before you can answer, he thrusts, and you glare up at him as he adds, “Plus, you can’t get sore….”
“I still get tired,” you almost shout.
Pushing himself up, he’s kneeling on the floor again and jerking you to the edge, “Then I’ll clean you up before dinner.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he gives you a few licks, then pulls back, “I lost track of the game….”
Beside yourself, because apparently, he’s totally cool with going down on you after he cums in you and doesn’t seem to need breaks and so many other things, you give up. Propped up on your elbows, you say, “I won. I always win.”
“Oh no…” he says, and you add Bucky using sarcasm to the list of things to figure out later before he grins up at you, “Guess I have to make you dinner after I finish cleaning up.”
“How do you still want more?” you ask, and you are completely serious.
Finally, he glares at you and sounds like the grumpy old man you’d been friends with, “It’s been a very long time. Just let me enjoy this.”
You can’t resist pointing out, “You do realize the ‘this’ you’re trying to enjoy is me. Right?”
“Got a problem with it, doll?” he asks in a dangerous tone. You shake your head, he’s so serious, and it’s making you think that you might need more, too, as he says, “Good. And you should get used to it. I meant what I said.”
“Fuckin what?”
He kisses your pussy, “Gonna eat your pretty little cunt every morning….”
He spreads your lips with his thumbs and shoves his tongue inside you, groaning, before he says, “And fuck you until your pregnant every night.”
All you can think to say, and it sounds so weak, “I’m on birth control….”
“Yes, you are,” he says, utterly unbothered by the contradiction.
“Alright. Cool. Sure. This makes sense. Fuck it,” you mumble before reaching out and putting your hand on the back of Bucky's head. You tug his hair to get his attention before you say, “Clean me up. You made a mess.”
Bucky bites his bottom lip before he says, “Yes, ma’am.”
💙
🖤🖤🖤
Thanks for reading! I will not be continuing this, so don't ask. I'm telling you no. Stop asking.
This is my last polite warning.
🖤🖤🖤
And here is the very fun outfit I made up a while ago. I still think it's cute.
Warnings: Smut, excessive camping details (not sorry), felatio, teasing, idiots to lovers, and Bucky being a whole slut.
Listening to: Love You Madly by Cake
Summary: You like camping and Bucky does not understand why, so he tags along on your next trip.
Author's Note: THIS IS A REPOST. And it's my work, I can do what I want with it. So, if this is giving you that deja vu feeling, it's because I posted this on 01/23/23 at 5:30pm CST. only time I'm warning about that.. if I do another.. we're calling it a Repost Party. LFG.
Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”
“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”
“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”
By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is.
You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it.
🐌
Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack.
The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.
You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway.
He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences.
Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going.
“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip.
Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”
Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered.
Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation.
🐌
Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.
You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun.
“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you.
He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work.
You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”
It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at.
Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”
You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”
He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”
“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.
Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.
By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind.
You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood.
Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.
As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”
“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this.
Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”
“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”
“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question.
Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”
Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”
“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”
“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again.
Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong.
Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.
🐌
Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything.
Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention.
Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision.
Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding.
It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency.
Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car.
By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.
🐌
Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes.
As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.
“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.
Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”
Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”
“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.
“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”
Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier.
“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot.
“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire.
Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”
Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down.
Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”
He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”
“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car.
It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.
Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”
“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.
“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre.
Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire.
You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again.
Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.
When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”
Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack.
Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.
As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe.
🐌
A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine.
It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it.
“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”
“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”
You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking.
Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”
“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”
“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”
Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited.
You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”
This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”
Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it.
He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age.
“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.
“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt.
Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”
“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”
You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”
“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information.
“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.
All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”
That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be.
He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”
Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”
“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice.
The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again.
Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret.
Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say.
You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”
Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic.
“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”
“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”
“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”
🐌
You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself.
“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you.
“I can’t,” you said but went back to it.
You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.
“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this.
You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”
He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”
“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”
Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky.
“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”
“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have.
He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”
You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”
He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”
“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason.
“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up.
Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.
Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”
“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”
You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”
Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake.
He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”
He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”
“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away.
Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”
He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”
“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land.
You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”
“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”
He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”
“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”
It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”
His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect.
Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”
“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face.
Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him.
“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”
“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said.
“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”
All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”
“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it.
You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip.
Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”
Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”
You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier.
Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake.
As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy.
He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”
“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower.
The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover.
Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet.
You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”
With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”
“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction.
It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this.
You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.
Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time.
Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group.
Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan.
“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower.
He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants.
Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you.
He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma.
“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there.
Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now.
He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”
“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”
Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”
All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it.
You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”
He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.”
He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric.
“Fuck,” Bucky gasped.
His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed.
Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs.
You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”
“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms.
Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too.
“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock.
He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”
“Better or wor—”
“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke.
Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”
He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”
Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”
As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”
You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it.
With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head.
Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”
He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”
His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”
The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”
You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”
“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting.
Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it.
When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds.
“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed.
His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now.
Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap.
“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground.
His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much.
Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”
You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”
Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”
He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”
🖤🖤🖤
Fuck everything. If you want to get tagged, let me know (comment, ask, message). I'm going to cut it off at 15, so first cum first served.
I had a feeling someone might remember it and get worried. I'm going to label them all with repost party nonsense. Apologies if you had any panic or thought you were losing your mind, but to be fair.. I lost mine ages ago and don't miss it. <3
Warnings: Smut, excessive camping details (not sorry), felatio, teasing, idiots to lovers, and Bucky being a whole slut.
Listening to: Love You Madly by Cake
Summary: You like camping and Bucky does not understand why, so he tags along on your next trip.
Author's Note: THIS IS A REPOST. And it's my work, I can do what I want with it. So, if this is giving you that deja vu feeling, it's because I posted this on 01/23/23 at 5:30pm CST. only time I'm warning about that.. if I do another.. we're calling it a Repost Party. LFG.
Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”
“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”
“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”
By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is.
You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it.
🐌
Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack.
The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.
You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway.
He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences.
Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going.
“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip.
Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”
Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered.
Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation.
🐌
Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.
You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun.
“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you.
He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work.
You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”
It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at.
Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”
You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”
He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”
“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.
Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.
By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind.
You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood.
Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.
As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”
“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this.
Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”
“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”
“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question.
Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”
Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”
“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”
“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again.
Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong.
Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.
🐌
Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything.
Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention.
Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision.
Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding.
It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency.
Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car.
By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.
🐌
Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes.
As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.
“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.
Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”
Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”
“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.
“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”
Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier.
“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot.
“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire.
Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”
Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down.
Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”
He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”
“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car.
It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.
Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”
“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.
“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre.
Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire.
You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again.
Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.
When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”
Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack.
Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.
As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe.
🐌
A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine.
It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it.
“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”
“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”
You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking.
Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”
“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”
“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”
Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited.
You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”
This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”
Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it.
He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age.
“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.
“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt.
Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”
“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”
You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”
“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information.
“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.
All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”
That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be.
He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”
Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”
“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice.
The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again.
Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret.
Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say.
You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”
Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic.
“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”
“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”
“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”
🐌
You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself.
“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you.
“I can’t,” you said but went back to it.
You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.
“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this.
You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”
He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”
“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”
Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky.
“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”
“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have.
He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”
You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”
He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”
“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason.
“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up.
Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.
Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”
“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”
You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”
Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake.
He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”
He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”
“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away.
Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”
He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”
“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land.
You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”
“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”
He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”
“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”
It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”
His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect.
Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”
“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face.
Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him.
“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”
“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said.
“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”
All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”
“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it.
You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip.
Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”
Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”
You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier.
Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake.
As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy.
He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”
“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower.
The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover.
Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet.
You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”
With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”
“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction.
It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this.
You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.
Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time.
Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group.
Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan.
“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower.
He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants.
Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you.
He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma.
“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there.
Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now.
He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”
“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”
Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”
All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it.
You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”
He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.”
He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric.
“Fuck,” Bucky gasped.
His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed.
Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs.
You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”
“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms.
Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too.
“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock.
He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”
“Better or wor—”
“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke.
Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”
He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”
Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”
As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”
You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it.
With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head.
Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”
He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”
His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”
The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”
You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”
“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting.
Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it.
When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds.
“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed.
His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now.
Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap.
“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground.
His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much.
Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”
You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”
Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”
He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”
🖤🖤🖤
Fuck everything. If you want to get tagged, let me know (comment, ask, message). I'm going to cut it off at 15, so first cum first served.
Warnings: Smut, excessive camping details (not sorry), felatio, teasing, idiots to lovers, and Bucky being a whole slut.
Listening to: Love You Madly by Cake
Summary: You like camping and Bucky does not understand why, so he tags along on your next trip.
Author's Note: THIS IS A REPOST. And it's my work, I can do what I want with it. So, if this is giving you that deja vu feeling, it's because I posted this on 01/23/23 at 5:30pm CST. only time I'm warning about that.. if I do another.. we're calling it a Repost Party. LFG.
Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”
“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”
“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”
By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is.
You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it.
🐌
Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack.
The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.
You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway.
He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences.
Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going.
“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip.
Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”
Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered.
Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation.
🐌
Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.
You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun.
“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you.
He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work.
You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”
It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at.
Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”
You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”
He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”
“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.
Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.
By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind.
You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood.
Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.
As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”
“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this.
Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”
“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”
“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question.
Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”
Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”
“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”
“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again.
Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong.
Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.
🐌
Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything.
Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention.
Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision.
Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding.
It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency.
Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car.
By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.
🐌
Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes.
As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.
“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.
Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”
Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”
“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.
“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”
Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier.
“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot.
“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire.
Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”
Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down.
Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”
He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”
“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car.
It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.
Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”
“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.
“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre.
Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire.
You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again.
Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.
When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”
Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack.
Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.
As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe.
🐌
A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine.
It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it.
“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”
“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”
You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking.
Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”
“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”
“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”
Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited.
You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”
This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”
Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it.
He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age.
“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.
“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt.
Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”
“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”
You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”
“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information.
“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.
All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”
That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be.
He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”
Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”
“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice.
The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again.
Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret.
Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say.
You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”
Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic.
“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”
“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”
“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”
🐌
You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself.
“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you.
“I can’t,” you said but went back to it.
You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.
“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this.
You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”
He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”
“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”
Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky.
“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”
“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have.
He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”
You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”
He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”
“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason.
“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up.
Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.
Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”
“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”
You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”
Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake.
He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”
He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”
“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away.
Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”
He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”
“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land.
You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”
“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”
He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”
“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”
It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”
His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect.
Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”
“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face.
Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him.
“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”
“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said.
“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”
All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”
“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it.
You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip.
Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”
Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”
You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier.
Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake.
As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy.
He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”
“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower.
The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover.
Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet.
You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”
With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”
“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction.
It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this.
You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.
Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time.
Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group.
Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan.
“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower.
He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants.
Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you.
He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma.
“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there.
Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now.
He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”
“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”
Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”
All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it.
You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”
He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.”
He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric.
“Fuck,” Bucky gasped.
His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed.
Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs.
You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”
“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms.
Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too.
“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock.
He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”
“Better or wor—”
“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke.
Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”
He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”
Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”
As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”
You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it.
With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head.
Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”
He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”
His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”
The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”
You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”
“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting.
Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it.
When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds.
“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed.
His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now.
Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap.
“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground.
His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much.
Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”
You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”
Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”
He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”
🖤🖤🖤
Fuck everything. If you want to get tagged, let me know (comment, ask, message). I'm going to cut it off at 15, so first cum first served.
Warnings: Smut, excessive camping details (not sorry), felatio, teasing, idiots to lovers, and Bucky being a whole slut.
Listening to: Love You Madly by Cake
Summary: You like camping and Bucky does not understand why, so he tags along on your next trip.
Author's Note: THIS IS A REPOST. And it's my work, I can do what I want with it. So, if this is giving you that deja vu feeling, it's because I posted this on 01/23/23 at 5:30pm CST. only time I'm warning about that.. if I do another.. we're calling it a Repost Party. LFG.
Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”
“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”
“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”
By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is.
You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it.
🐌
Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack.
The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.
You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway.
He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences.
Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going.
“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip.
Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”
Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered.
Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation.
🐌
Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.
You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun.
“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you.
He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work.
You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”
It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at.
Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”
You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”
He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”
“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.
Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.
By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind.
You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood.
Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.
As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”
“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this.
Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”
“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”
“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question.
Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”
Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”
“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”
“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again.
Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong.
Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.
🐌
Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything.
Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention.
Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision.
Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding.
It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency.
Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car.
By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.
🐌
Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes.
As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.
“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.
Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”
Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”
“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.
“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”
Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier.
“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot.
“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire.
Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”
Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down.
Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”
He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”
“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car.
It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.
Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”
“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.
“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre.
Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire.
You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again.
Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.
When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”
Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack.
Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.
As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe.
🐌
A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine.
It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it.
“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”
“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”
You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking.
Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”
“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”
“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”
Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited.
You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”
This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”
Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it.
He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age.
“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.
“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt.
Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”
“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”
You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”
“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information.
“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.
All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”
That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be.
He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”
Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”
“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice.
The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again.
Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret.
Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say.
You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”
Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic.
“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”
“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”
“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”
🐌
You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself.
“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you.
“I can’t,” you said but went back to it.
You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.
“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this.
You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”
He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”
“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”
Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky.
“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”
“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have.
He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”
You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”
He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”
“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason.
“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up.
Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.
Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”
“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”
You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”
Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake.
He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”
He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”
“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away.
Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”
He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”
“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land.
You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”
“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”
He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”
“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”
It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”
His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect.
Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”
“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face.
Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him.
“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”
“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said.
“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”
All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”
“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it.
You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip.
Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”
Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”
You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier.
Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake.
As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy.
He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”
“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower.
The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover.
Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet.
You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”
With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”
“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction.
It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this.
You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.
Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time.
Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group.
Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan.
“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower.
He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants.
Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you.
He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma.
“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there.
Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now.
He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”
“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”
Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”
All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it.
You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”
He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.”
He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric.
“Fuck,” Bucky gasped.
His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed.
Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs.
You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”
“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms.
Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too.
“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock.
He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”
“Better or wor—”
“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke.
Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”
He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”
Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”
As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”
You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it.
With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head.
Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”
He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”
His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”
The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”
You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”
“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting.
Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it.
When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds.
“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed.
His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now.
Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap.
“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground.
His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much.
Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”
You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”
Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”
He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”
🖤🖤🖤
I am burdened with glorious purpose—and will not be taking requests. Thanks for reading!
New masterlist, who dis? lol.. anyway, here are the rules..
No requests
That's actually it. I'm gonna do what I want. Might write some stuff for The Boys because GodDAMN I love that show. Who knows. For now, going to repost some things and see what happens.
