behind the wheel
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
summary: in the aftermath of a crash, your last hope is a small garage set aside from the main city. there you leave your precious car left in the hands of a grease covered man with a charming smile.
warnings: mechanic!bucky, mentions of trauma (from a car accident), fluff, lots of flirting, checking each other out, smut, dry humping (against a motorbike), p in v, oral (m and f receiving), face-riding, use of pet names (babe, sweetheart, dears - by a waitress), multiple sex positions (cowgirl, missionary, mating press), no use of y/n, not beta read, all mistakes are mine
author's note: needed something a little sweeter and softer after my recent works. then I named this after a depeche mode song and realised I might have low key channeled mr martin l. gore. no regrets. and thank you for 200 followers!! ₊˚⊹♡
word count: >7.2k
credits: divider by bhavihelps
The car pulled into one of the open spaces, quiet enough that it drew no attention, despite the damage across the rear of the vehicle.
You step out of the car, spinning the keys on your finger for a moment before hitting the lock button. Keeping your head down as you walk into the garage, you allow yourself a moment to peek up.
“Hello?” You call out shyly.
“Hey!” A friendly voice responds. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right with ya!”
“‘Kay,” you call back, and fidget, still playing with your keys.
You hear the creak as one of the two cars is lowered to ground level. Standing aside it is a dark haired man in dark blue overalls, and matted in dirt and grease.
He brushes his hands together before turning and giving you a smile.
Your lips part for a moment, taken aback by how attractive he was. His hair was thick and messy, stubble lining a strong jawline, subtle hints of grey peeking through, and light blue eyes that made you wonder if you could lose yourself in them.
“Hey there,” he walks over, his strides long, reaching you quickly. “What can I do for ya?”
“I, um,” you stutter, embarrassed by your own thoughts. “Someone hit the side of my car, I was hoping you could take a look? Please?”
“Sure,” he nods. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
Your heart thumps harder for a moment at the nickname. “‘Kay.”
You walk out the open doors and gesture vaguely to your car.
He steps around and looks along the length of the car, first the left and then the right.
“Well shit,” he pauses when he sees the wing. “Poor girl took a belt.”
“Yeah,” you agree.
“Someone hit you?” He guessed, eyes moving from the vehicle to you.
You nod, crossing your arms. “Pulled out on me.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, and flinches for a moment. “You okay? Hits like that can be terrifying.”
“Uh, yeah,” you are taken aback by his empathy. “I’m still a bit unsure when driving.”
He nods. “That’s common.”
You exhale. “So, how bad is it?”
“Hate to break it to you,” his face contorted. “But you might want to get another car, it would be cheaper.”
You hang your head. “The insurance company said the same.”
“And you still brought it here?” He was surprised.
You place your hand on top of the car. “It’s my car. It might sound weird, but I’m fond of it.”
“That’s not weird,” his voice was soft, and leaned against your car casually. “Our vehicles carry us around every day. We have to care for them like a kid, worry when they make weird noises. They matter.”
Your lips part and you exhale. “Thanks.”
He gives you a smile that makes your heart tighten.
“Look,” he pauses and glances back at the car. “Fixin’ her could be a money pit. But, if we’re lucky we might be able to source parts cheap, and the majority of the bill would, unfortunately, be labour.”
“You’d do that?” You raise your eyebrows.
“For a pretty girl with good taste in cars,” he shrugs then gives a wink. “Absolutely.”
“You’re a life saver,” you feel the relieved smile on your face. “Legitimately. I owe you.”
“You owe me,” he repeats. “What does owing you entail?”
You could hear the teasing in his voice, your cheeks go red.
“Um, I don’t know,” you admit. “Didn’t think it through.”
He throws his head back laughing.
“How about this?” He suggests a mischievous glint in his eye. “If I get your car fixed. You let me take you out on a date.”
Your jaw drops at his forwardness.
“I- um,” you stumble. You give yourself a moment, eyes wandering over the overalls that seem to obscure his large form, to the shine of his eyes. You bite your bottom lip for a moment. “Okay, sure.”
Bucky nods, looking smug. “Alright. One car for one date?”
He holds out a gloved hand, you reach out and shake it.
It took over a month, and it was exhausting.
The search for parts, finding the exact parts and then finding it had been listed incorrectly. Matching the colour of the wing, the length of the springs for the suspension, and alloys that didn’t make the car look like a speed drunk teenager.
Then there was the actual labour. It turned out repairing a vehicle was more than just taking parts on and off. All sorts of things could go wrong, bolts getting stuck and parts being rusted.
Those were the problems you knew of.
Bucky had kept you regularly updated, texting weekly with progress reports. His tone is always positive and kind, never acting as if you were a bother.
You should see her, sweetheart. She’s looking mighty fine, if I do say so myself x
You glance at your phone, a soft smile on your face. Every text he’d leave that damn kiss at the end, teasing you. You knew deep down that he’d put a lot of work in, but remained humble every time you brought it up.
You grab the spare keys for the car, and head to the waiting taxi.
A tap from your card and you are out of the taxi and in the car park of Bucky’s garage.
You walk forward, no hesitation this time. You’d visited several times to check on your car, the building had become comfortingly familiar.
“Hi Steve,” you call out to the blonde man who is glancing over a diagnostic on a laptop.
His head turns. “Oh hey. Bucky’s in the office, want me to grab him?”
“It’s fine, I’ll knock,” you wave your hand. “Good to see you though. You look good.”
Steve laughs. “Thanks, back atcha! Try not to dirty that pretty top.”
You grin and continue on. Cutting down the side of a Mercedes to reach the office door.
You tap with your knuckles, twice, and wait.
“Come in!” Bucky’s voice calls.
You open the door into the small office. The room served as the staff room and office. A sofa, coffee table, then opposite a kitchenette with a fridge, then to the back is a desk with a singular PC.
Behind the desk is Bucky, left hand gloved and holding his phone to his ear.
His right hand waves at you and points to the seat opposite him.
You settle onto the leather chair, watching.
He is not in his overalls, but in a plain polo shirt and loose trousers. The polo did a lot for him, allowing you the sight of the muscle and veins of his right forearm, and the left glinted as the sun hit the metal.
You blink a second, and catch Bucky mouthing sorry at you.
You shake your head at him. Don’t worry, you mouth back.
“It’s not a negotiation,” you hear him say. “Take it or leave it.”
His tone was assertive and confident, the sign of someone who knew his field.
“Alright, good day sir,” he pulls the phone away and hits the end call button.
“Fucking cheap skates,” he mutters.
You smirk, amused.
He flings his phone onto the desk with a clatter and his eyes turn to you.
“Well, hey there,” he leans back with a smile, charm turned on.
“Hi Bucky,” you grin at him.
His eyes lower, noticing that your top shows the valley of your cleavage.
“You look damn good,” he licks his bottom lip.
“Well, I have a date,” you shrug, keeping the teasing smile on your face.
“Anyone I know?”
“Maybe,” you are enjoying this, Bucky had this easy light heartedness that made the world seem lighter. “He did me a huge favour, and he’s not bad looking either.”
He chuckles. “Not bad?”
You shrug. “Well you have a mighty good looking co-worker.”
Bucky glares and you giggle.
“You fucking tease,” he rumbles.
“Sorry, sorry,” you laugh. “Your face was priceless.”
Bucky shakes his head and starts to smile again, unable to remain angry for long.
“Wanna see your baby then?” He asks.
You nod eagerly. “Please.”
He gets to his feet and gestures for you to follow him. You head through a side door out the side of the building, there are parked two motorcycles and a singular car.
Your car.
You rush forward, leaning around to look up and down the vehicle.
“Oh my god!” You gasp, taking in every detail. “Bucky! How did you do it?”
He chuckles behind you.
“Hard work, babe,” you turn to see him cross his arms, a smug look on his face. “She’s a beauty.”
You place a hand on the bonnet.
“She’s amazing,” you say fondly. “You waxed her and everything!”
“Of course, I don’t leave a job unfinished,” his tone is soft, yet you see the mischief in his eyes.
“Bucky,” you feel flustered for a moment. “Fancy a drive?”
His face lights up. “Absolutely.”
You throw him the spare keys. “You drive, you’ve earnt it.”
He glances at the keys in his hand, amused. “Well, thanks, babe.”
You walk over to the passenger side, glancing back long enough to notice him looking at you, his eyes once low with a thinly veiled smirk.
The door clicks gently as he shuts it. You instructively do your seatbelt, and catch him doing the same, adjusting the seat to accommodate his legs.
“I’m surprised you haven’t driven her already,” you admit.
“Steve took her out yesterday,” he fiddles with the rear view mirror. “He’s a dumbass who keeps the seat too close so his legs are bumping against the console.”
“Poor Steve,”
“Yeah, poor Stevie,” his voice is taunting as he starts the car.
“You love him really,” your voice is confident. Your interactions had been brief, but you could always see their bond between the two men, one that appeared unbreakable.
Bucky sighs. “I really fucking do.”
He pulls forward, down the side of the building, slowly edging through the car park onto the main road.
Bucky handles the car with ease, changing gears, revving the engine to hit a good speed and then putting it into the highest gear.
“Yeah, she’s a beauty,” his voice is full of adoration. “She can move.”
“Mhm,” you agree. “Now you might understand why I didn’t want to scrap her.”
He looks at you for a moment. “Glad you didn’t.”
“You sure?” you joke. “You undertook a month-long project just for a pay check and a date.”
“Worth it,” he nods, his eyes still on the road ahead. “You are so worth it.”
You blush. “You are such a charmer.”
He laughs. “Only for you, babe.”
“Uh huh,” your tone is teasing, but part of you is curious if it was the truth.
He senses the change in demeanor from you.
“About that date,” his tone was serious. “Thought we could go to a little diner I know, they make the best desserts and you seem like you have a sweet tooth.”
Your head turns at the word dessert, he chuckles for a moment at the action.
“Sounds nice,” you admit, your enthusiasm evident in your voice.
“Great,” he begins to smile again, now driving back to his garage. “I’ll pick you up after my shift, it should be around six.”
“Alright, need me to dress up or anything?”
“Nah, you look stunning in that getup,” he smirks, eyes flicking over your chest, then to the jeans that cling to your hips.
“Thanks,” you blush slightly. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t worn this outfit on purpose, hoping to grab his eye.
“Isn’t very often I see a girl dressed up,” he admits.
“You don’t date?” You ask, curiously.
“Haven’t in a while,” he admits and runs a hand through his hair to push it back. “Garage takes up a lot of my time.”
“And outside that?”
“I crash out pretty much when I get home,” he shrugs. “Steve and I might go out for a few drinks with friends, some nights. Been a while since I met a girl I was interested in.”
“Oh,” you stammer slightly, taken aback by his shift to seriousness. “I’m flattered.”
Bucky throws you a grin, indicating and pulling right back to his garage, parking outside.
“Here we are,” he says. “She’s all yours.”
He reaches into his pocket and hands over the main keys, leaving the spares in the ignition.
“Thank you,” you breathe. “Do you want me to come and pay?”
He shakes his head. “We can sort that out tomorrow. Gives me another excuse to see you.”
You half smile at his attempt at being subtle.
“Then, I’ll see you at six?” You ask.
“You will,” he promises. His hand reaches over brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Catch you then.”
The thrum of the motorcycle stops abruptly.
You leap to your feet, rushing to your front door. In your eagerness, you fling it open forcing it to knock loudly against the wall behind it.
At the end of the driveway stands Bucky himself, he looks up upon hearing the knock and laughs, his entire frame shaking as he flings his head back.
Your heart tightens slightly at the sight of him. His hair is neat, freshly washed, the stubble on his face appeared even, peppered with grey that somehow increased his appeal. He wore black trousers, boots, and unzipped his leather biker jacket to show a pale green shirt underneath.
He opens the box at the back of his bike, pulling out a bunch of flowers, closes it and begins to approach you.
“Hey,” he greets you. “These are for you.”
He holds out a bunch of white lilies.
“Thought you’d match your outfit,” he admits, his lips twitch slightly. “Sorry I forgot to ask your favourite.”
You shake your head, grasping the flowers gently. “Thank you, Bucky.”
Bucky smiles, close up like this you could see the smile lines on his face, crinkles forming around his eyes.
You reach over, placing the flowers of the cabinet near the door and grabbing your bag.
“Ready?” He asks. You nod, stepping out to join him, you turn to lock your door and can feel his gaze on you.
“Seen something you like?” You tease as you turn your head.
“I see several things I like,” he smirks. “You kept the outfit.”
You turn and shrug. “You seemed to like it.”
“I really do,” he agrees, slowly he reaches forward, eyes asking. You smile in response, and his gloved hands land on your waist, holding you as his eyes flicker over you again. “Whoever designed that top, I owe them a drink.”
You giggle. “How about you buy me a drink first?”
“Mm,” his eyes move from your chest to your eyes. “Yes ma’am.”
His hands withdraw from your body, and strangely leaves you feeling absent. You follow him to his bike, and he offers a helmet.
“We can take my car,” you offer and he shakes his head.
“Never been on a bike?” He asked, sensing your trepidation.
“No,” you admit, chewing on the inside of your mouth to hide your expression.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures you, zipping his jacket up. “We aren’t going far, and riding a bike can be thrilling. I think you’ll like it.”
You pause, still unsure and looking at the helmet in your hands.
He sighs and steps forward.
“Hey. Look at me,” your eyes flicker to his. “Do you trust me?”
You see the seriousness in his eyes, the set of his mouth and find yourself nodding.
“I do,” you say earnestly and realise you are being slightly foolish. He had fixed your car, driven you around in it. Why would he put you at risk on his bike? He was clearly a capable driver. “I’m sorry.”
Bucky reaches over, tilting your chin up. “You really are pretty.”
You blush. “Oh shush, you flirt.”
He laughs. “Alright,” he holds his hands up. “Put the helmet on, and zip up your jacket, pretty girl.”
You put on the helmet and zip up your jacket, covering your chest.
Bucky then helps, carefully fastening the clasp, the leather of his gloves leaving a tingling sensation on your neck.
“Climb on,” he rumbles. You swing your leg over the bike, lifting yourself with your hands to the backseat. As you do so, Bucky places his own helmet on his head and easily straddles the bike.
“Hold onto me,” he suggests. You reach forward, hands landing on the thick leather around his waist.
Bucky starts the bike, kicking the leg up and sets off.
You both remain silent during the ride, the gushing of the wind and thrum of the engine making it difficult to hear anything else.
The diner is outside the city, sitting next to a petrol station. It looks quiet, only a few cars parked outside.
Bucky pulls into a bay marked for motorcycles, kicks the leg down and kills the engine.
You watch as he pulls off the helmet.
“Here we are,” he declares as he dismounts.
You reach to undo the buckle, only for him to reach over gently, fingers brushing your chin again and removing the helmet with care.
He smiles. “Hey, pretty girl. Enjoy the ride?”
You blink, a little stunned by the brightness after the visor had shielded your eyes.
“Yeah, it was,” you pause, mind spinning slightly from the speed and overwhelmed senses. “I can’t think.”
Bucky laughs softly. “There’s something special about sharing a bike, the feel of the wind, having someone wrapped around you. It’s very intimate.”
You blush slightly at his phasing. “Is that why we rode a bike over taking a car?”
“Maybe,” he smirks, offering his hand to help you down from the back of the motorbike.
You take it, noticing that he’d taken off his gloves, his metal fingers wrapping around your hand.
“Thank you,” you say as you land on your feet. His hand still holds yours, shifting to interweave his fingers with yours.
“In we go” he says, pulling your hand eagerly.
The diner is as quiet as it had appeared, peaceful.
You sat in the booth, bag next to you, looking at the patterns on the vinyl on the table.
“Here,” he pushes over a strawberry milkshake that matched his own.
“Oh, thanks,” you take a sip through the straw and give a happy sigh. You spot him sipping his own milkshake, eyes on you the whole time.
“What?” You cannot help but smile.
“Just. Looking…” he leans back.
Your cheeks turn red as you smile wider. “Bucky, you don’t need to flirt with me to win me over.” You lean towards him. “You’ve already won.”
“I like flirting with you,” he smirks. “And you like it too, don’t you babe?”
You dunk your head to hide your smile.
“Don’t you want to play with me a bit?” He teases, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Yes,” you admit. “But, I’d also like to get to know you better.”
“‘Right,” he seems to turn more casual, arm dropping from its perch and leaning forward. “How about we take turns in asking questions?”
You nod. “Sure.”
He gestures vaguely. “Ladies first.”
“I- um,” you pause, and think for a moment. “Steve mentioned that Bucky is just a nickname for you. What’s your actual name? Only if you wanna though.”
“It’s James,” he laughs gently at how worried you look at the idea of crossing a line. “James Buchanan Barnes. But, no one calls me James, except sometimes my ma or my sister.”
“You have a sister?”
He nods, a gentle smile and soft look in his eyes. “Rebecca. My baby sis, don’t get to see her much since she moved out of state. She’s married, has a kid and is pregnant with her second.”
“Oh,” you breathe. “Congrats.”
He chuckles. “Thanks. Don’t get to see them nearly enough.”
“Bet you’re a fun uncle though,” you sip your drink.
“To my sister’s chagrin,” he chuckles. “Gave the little mite so much sugar he was awake till nearly 11pm.”
“Oh no,” you laugh with him. “You’re going to be one of those kinds of father’s.”
“What’s one of those?” He teases.
“The kind that lets the kids have so much fun, it means a battle later.”
Bucky shrugs. “Kids deserve fun.”
You groan, mind full of images of little kids with blue eyes eagerly rushing around after Bucky in the middle of the night. “Well, at least I know now.”
“Little early to be thinking about kids, don’t’chu think?” You can see from his smile he is teasing.
“I’m just getting to know you,” you shrug innocently, trying to shake the cute image from your mind. “Do you have any other family, friends?”
“Not really,” he goes quiet for a moment. “Just them, Steve and our buddy Sam. Couple of people that are friends with Steve, but we just hang out and not really socialise.”
“You seem plenty sociable to me,” you say.
A waitress comes over then, popping two pies with a serving of salad and fries.
“Here you go, dears,” she says and leaves to trend another table.
“I make an effort with customers,” Bucky admits. “Though, I’d have made an effort with you if I saw you on the street. No chance I was letting you walk away.”
“Bucky,” you smile at the compliment, and start to eat to disguise your embarrassment.
He grins back, looking proud of himself as he joins you.
The two of you take a few minutes to enjoy your food before you spot Bucky’s fingers sneaking some fries from your dish to his plate.
“Hey!” You complain, and notice his near empty plate. “How the-“
He pops a fry into his mouth, chewing with a taunting grin.
“Too slow,” he teases.
Your eyes narrow. “You better be paying after that, Barnes.”
“Already have, sweetheart,” he picks up another between his fingers, carefully dipping it in sauce before reaching over. “Here, open.”
You open your mouth allowing him to delicately place the fry on your tongue. You close your mouth and slowly chew, slightly entranced by how his fingers had brushed your lips.
“You’ve got quite the appetite,” you comment.
“Well,” he pauses. “Killer hours do that.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I was expecting some comment about your muscles.”
“I could,” he turns his right arm, the veins of his forearm stand out against the muscle. “But, that would be a lie.”
“Well,” you take another bite. “They are impressive now I can actually see them.”
Bucky smiles. “Thanks, babe. Unfortunately the overalls come with the job, even if it’s not very flattering.”
“Maybe I can see you out of them more often?” You suggest.
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’d like my clothes off?”
You choke on the drink in your mouth. “Bucky!”
He bursts out laughing. “Oh, your face!”
“Bucky!” You hiss, now bright red.
“Sorry babe, but you made it too easy,” he shrugs innocently, but his smile made it clear how much he was enjoying this.
You shake your head, your chest tightening slightly out of fondness.
“It’s your turn, ask me something,” you tell him, taking the opportunity to finish up your food.
“Mmm,” he pauses. “Well, first, what do you want for dessert?”
“That’s not a question!” You protest, waving your fork slightly in indignation.
“Yes, it is,” he teases. “I wanna order dessert before we continue.”
“Alright,” you lean back, placing the cutlery neatly on the plate. “I’ll have some chocolate cake, with ice cream, please.”
“‘Kay,” he responds. “Be right back.”
You watch him as he gets to his feet with a slight grunt, making you giggle slightly at his dramatics, and your eyes linger on the muscles of his back visible through the shirt.
You see him chat to the waitress, giving her a sweet smile before ordering and paying. Then he quickly moves away to rejoin you.
“Done,” he announces. “One chocolate cake, one apple pie and one banana split.”
You tilt your head. “You’re having two desserts?”
He shakes his head. “Apple Pie is Steve’s favourite, I’m going to take it to his place.”
“Aww,” you can’t stop the noise emerging from your mouth. “That’s so sweet!”
“Don’t,” he rumbles, lips pressed into a disapproving line. “The punk is lucky. I got it for him for getting me out of happy hour with his friends.”
“Oh,” your lips part. “You cancelled to go on a date with me?”
“I didn’t want to go,” he shrugs. “A date with a pretty girl is far better than Sam dragging my arse between bars afterwards, or the endless questions when I’m getting a girlfriend.”
You smile sympathetically.
“Glad you chose me,” you reach over, fingers brushing metal.
“So am I,” he agrees. “Now, here’s a real question, what’s your favourite flower?”
“Hm,” you think, keeping your hand on his. “Lilacs are a nice colour, but I also like orchids. I have an orchid on my coffee table at home.”
He leans back, allowing you to talk, eyes never moving from yours as you answer question after question.
The waitress returned, placing down a box with the pie and the desserts, then gathering up the plates. Then departs again to take them to the kitchen.
“Wanna share?” Bucky suggests.
You nod eagerly and you push your plates together. Bucky moves half a banana, and most of the ice cream next to your slice of cake, then chops only a third of your cake off and slides it onto his plate.
“You can take more,” you say and he shakes his head.
“I took your fries,” he responds. “And you clearly love dessert.”
Your heart swelled at his selflessness, at how he remembered.
“You are so sweet,” you whisper fondly.
“No, you are,” his voice is teasing again, and scoops up ice cream and pops it in his mouth.
You smile widely as you also begin to eat, leaning back and making a soft sound at the satisfying taste of chocolate.
Bucky perks up, lips pressed together as if suppressing laughter.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you are moaning over dessert,” he snickers.
“Sometimes a good dessert just hits the spot,” you reply, leaning back and giving him glare.
“Mhm,” he shakes his head with a smile. “You still moaned like it was getting you off.”
Your lips part, suppressing your embarrassment in favour of sass, and then retort. “Why? You jealous?”
He licks his bottom lip, unfazed. “Maybe.”
You blink, surprised.
He smirks at your expression. “Can you blame me? I’m on a date with a gorgeous girl and she’s not moaning over me but over cake.”
You press your lips together, suppressing a giggle and then lean close to whisper. “‘Maybe you need to give me something to moan about.”
Your foot inches forward, gently running down the side of his calf.
“On the first date?” He leans close, his expression is no longer teasing but serious.
“I told you, I trust you and…” you pause. “I really like you.”
Your foot brushes his leg again, taunting.
“Fuck,” he mutters. He stares at you a moment and picks up the box of pie with one hand, slides out of the booth and offers you his free hand.
Instantly you take it, curious.
He eagerly pulls you out of the diner towards his bike. It’s dark, only the streetlights illuminating the area.
Bucky opens the box at the back of the bike, places the pie box inside, and slams it shut.
“Sit down,” he instructs you.
You use your arms and lift yourself onto the backseat, legs hanging down in front of him.
“Can I kiss you?” His voice is deep, sultry.
You nod eagerly, heart fluttering. He leans closer, cupping your chin with his right hand and presses his lips gently to yours. The kiss is gentle at first, tender and soft. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him between your legs.
He lets out a groan, metal arm snaking around your waist.
“God,” he mutters. “You’re beautiful.”
You press your forehead to his. “Bucky.”
He exhales, tilting your head and kissing you again. The kiss runs deeper, his mouth moving against yours, pulling your lips, tongue entering your mouth.
His hips roll against yours, you feel his hardness pressing against you, building friction. You grind against him in an attempt to soothe the ache between your thighs.
“Mm,” he mumbles into your mouth, leaning so you arch back helpless against the snap of his hips.
“Bucky,” you whine as your clit catches the seam of your jeans, sending a shot of pleasure through you.
His mouth moves to your neck, lips trailing slowly downward making you tremble.
“Bucky,” you repeat his name with a gasp. The sound seems to snap him out of his stupor, he pulls back.
He breathes heavily, pupils blown wide. With a loud swallow he pulls the helmet off the bike and offers it to you.
This time he doesn’t help, he puts his own helmet and jacket on and straddles the bike, eager to get moving.
“Your helmet on?” His voice was low.
“Yeah,” you reply huskily.
“Good,” he starts the bike with a roar. “Hold onto me.”
You grasp onto his waist, and clamp your legs, knees pressing into his hips.
You can’t help but admire the grace of the bike, Bucky makes it go fast, sliding in gaps that seem too small and down side streets clearly meant for only pedestrians.
He kicks the leg down once you reach a small white wooden house.
“I’ll be two minutes,” he rumbles, grabbing the pie box from the back.
You watch as he runs down the path to the door, pulling his helmet off uncaringly. He knocks and taps his foot impatiently.
After a minute you see Steve open the door, still dressed up from going to happy hour. He converses with Bucky briefly then gives you a wave. You wave back, smiling even though he can’t see it behind the helmet.
Bucky seems impatient, backing away whilst talking.
“Alright alright,” you hear Steve’s voice carry. “I get it. You want out. Have fun, and wear protection!”
“Steve!” Bucky hissed, scowling as his best friend laughed and shut the door.
“Fucking punk,” Bucky grumbled as he passed you.
You laugh quietly.
“Don’t encourage him,” he grumbles. “I finally got myself a girl, and he could have ruined it.”
Bucky straddles the bike again, and you lean forward to wrap your arms around his waist, your chin landing on his shoulder.
“I think it’s sweet he cares enough to tell you to use protection,” you murmur.
“Mm,” he sighs. “It’s embarrassing.”
“The protection part or Steve shouting it?”
“Steve,” he clarifies, jaw ticking slightly. “I don’t want people up in my business."
“Fair enough,” you gently nudge his cheek with the helmet in a show of affection. “But, just so you know, I’m on the pill. We don’t need protection.”
He inhales sharply. “I need you at my place, now.”
With that, shoves his helmet on and he sets off again, ignoring the speed limit until you reach another wooden suburban house.
He pulls onto the driveway next to a black Audi, then turns off the engine.
You hop off eagerly, removing your helmet. You head for the door, see Bucky has already removed his own helmet and is holding the door open.
“Ladies first,”
You walk in, peeking around. The space is kind of cramped, yet homely. You hear Bucky throw his keys into a bowl, and the sound of a zip.
“It’s not much,” he admits, and places his hands on your shoulders - removing your own jacket.
“It’s nice,” you say, attempting to ignore the tingling feeling left by his fingers on your arms. “Warm. Like you.”
You turn to face him and share a smile for a moment.
“Do you want a drink or anything?” He attempts to break the silent tension.
“Bucky,” you step close to him, pressing your hands against his shirt.
“Yeah?” he whispers.
“Let’s go to your room,” you suggest, eyes peering up at him through your lashes.
Bucky pauses, considering. Then steps close, placing his hands on your hips.
“Jump,” he instructs. You jump up, legs around his waist. His hands press against you back to steady you and walk with you in his arms to the back of the house.
Too enraptured by his eyes, you barely notice the movement until he lowers you onto his bed. You feel thick blankets beneath you.
He moves fast again, bending over you and kissing you hard.
“God,” he moves to your ear, and bites it gently. You whimper. “I’ve been thinking about this for a month.”
You tilt your head, consenting to allow him to kiss your neck.
“Some nights I just couldn’t get you off my mind,” he murmurs. “Had to lay on this damn bed without you.”
“I thought about you too,” you whisper back. “Every time you’d send a kiss by text. I would spend hours just staring at it, wishing that you’d just kiss me.”
He groaned, diving back to your lips starting with short kisses until he tilted slightly his tongue entering your open mouth.
You lay back, bringing him with you, your fingers clasping his shirt.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, and then gives a roll of his hips. “I need you, babe.”
“Me too,” your murmur, then a thought passes through your head. “Roll over, onto your back.”
Bucky gives an amused look, but rolls onto his back.
“Planning to ride me?” He teases. “Not that I mind.”
“Maybe later,” you say, sliding down his body till you are face to face with his clothed erection. “I have a better idea.”
“Oh,” he realises as you unbuckle his belt and eagerly tug both his trousers and boxers down in one go.
His cock springs out, hard, the tip leaking pre-cum.
You hear a clatter as he kicks his trousers off, forcing them to land on the floor. You peek up at him, his arms are behind his head, relaxed.
“Do you mind?” You ask and gesture to him.
“Please,” his eyes close gently in anticipation.
You lean forward, testing, and lick the tip. The taste of salt erupts on your tongue, his hips buck and your groan, enjoying seeing him like this.
You push yourself closer, taking the first inch of him into your mouth.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, a hand grasps your hair, refusing to let you move.
Your right hand reaches, giving a gentle squeeze to his balls whilst your left remains on his thigh.
“Shit- yes-“ he groans. “Keep doing that, sweetheart.”
You move down, allowing him further into your mouth, pushing into the back of your throat. You gag for a moment and inhale through your nose, attempting to relax.
You pull yourself off with a loud pop, then take him into your mouth again, then repeat.
His hand grasps your hair tighter, helping you build a rhythm to worship him with. Your tongue rolls along the underside of him, feeling the veins there whilst you hollow out your cheeks to provide extra stimulation.
“Fuck, just like that,” he bucks into your face. “Babe, you’re- I’m-“
He groans, loud.
Your eyes water as he puts the back of your throat, spilling warm. An inhale through your nose to stifle yourself from choking, and force yourself to swallow.
You pull yourself onto your elbows, rubbing the tension from your jaw.
“Hey, come here,” his voice is slightly strained.
You shuffle up his body, laying on top of him.
“You okay?” His right hand lays on your cheek. “Wasn’t too much?”
You shake your head. “I’m good, I think.”
Bucky nods. “I won’t push you if you aren’t ready.”
“No,” you were quick. “I want to.”
His hands run down your sides to your jeans, doing the button and pulling them down.
“Oh,” his eyes widen as you help him remove your jeans, revealing that the shirt was a bodysuit, hiding your underwear from his sight.
You roll your hips over his length, it’s soft from his release, but the action forces a groan from him.
Your fingers move, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his chest. You run a palm over the muscles.
“Mmm,” he sighs contently. “That feels nice.”
He abruptly sits up, chest pressing against his, as he pulls off his shirt.
“Oh,” your eyes take him in, your hands move to his shoulders. Your right hand lingers, delicately tracing the rough skin between him and the metal arm. You lean forward pressing kisses along the join.
He exhaled, wrapping his arms tightly around you to pull you closer, and hiding his head in your shoulder.
“You’re so pretty,” you murmur as you tilt your head to press against his.
His own head moves, his gaze intense and leans forward to capture your lips. The kiss is tender, slow and soft, an expression of adoration over pure lust.
Bucky pulls you down on top of him, continuing the kiss for a moment before speaking, his voice thick.
“Come here,” he tugs at the cotton of the bodysuit. “I want you to sit on me.”
You inhale sharply. “I don’t want to squish you.”
He snorts. “Please, I’ve nearly had two ton cars land on me. Your hot arse is nothing. Get up here.”
You study him a second, then move up, legs on the side of his head. His fingers play with the buttons of your bodysuit.
“You’re wet,” he murmurs, feeling the dampness that had seeped through your underwear and was staining the bodysuit.
Your hands grasp the headboard. His fingers undo the buttons to reveal the lacy underwear beneath.
“You planned this,” his fingers traced the soaked material.
“I hoped,” you admit. “I hoped you wanted me as much as I do you.”
“Mmm,” he tugs the waistband, you lift a leg to free yourself of them then allow them to slide off. His hands grab at your hips, pulling you down onto his face, the stubble on his face burns your legs in the most delicious way. He then takes one long stripe with his tongue.
You jolt, your grasp on the headboard tightening.
“Bucky,” you whine. He repeats it, forcing a loud inhale from you.
“Mmm, I could hear those sounds all day,” he mumbles, voice muffled by you. His mouth moves to press a kiss to your thigh before using his tongue to part your folds, revealing your swollen clit to him.
You yelp as his lips wrap around the nub.
His mouth works you, tongue flicking one minute, then circling it. Slowly building pressure, the wetness between your thighs increases as you clamp around nothing.
The touch of his tongue rolls over your clit, you arch your back with a cry and he repeats the action.
“Bucky!” You cry out, legs shaking as you hit your peak.
Gentle hands soothe your thighs, guiding you to sit on his chest.
“Beautiful,” he mouth and chin were shiny, lips curled into a smile.
“I need-“ you inhale sharply. “I need you.”
“Already?” He grins, smug.
You nod, grabbing the sides of the bodysuit and pulling it off. His irises widen, noticing that you wore no bra underneath, meaning that you hadn’t been wearing one all day.
Your bare body moves down him, leaving a damp trail as you grind down his chest to meet his hips.
His hands cup your face, pulling you into a brief kiss.
“Gonna ride me?” He asks. “Or do I need to flip you over and fuck you myself?”
“You just like the idea of being ridden,” you tease him, allowing his now hard cock to brush your folds.
“Can you blame me?” He taunts. “I haven’t even seen you in the driver's seat yet.”
You giggle. “A car metaphor, really?”
Bucky shrugs. “What can I say, I like a girl with taste in cars.”
“Mmm,” you roll over him again, pressing his head against you and then take it into you, slowly.
“Ohhh fuck,” he groaned. You lower further, giving yourself time to feel each inch as he stretches you until he is fully seated.
You moan, arching to press your hands against his chest.
“You gotta move, babe,” he whispers.
You exhale, senses overwhelmed and overstimulated. “I- I don’t know- feel so full- it’s so much…”
He studies you, the way you are barely holding yourself together, eyes pricking at the mix of pain and pleasure at being stretched so well.
“I got you,” his voice was soft, wrapping his arms around you and rolling you onto your back.
You moan again, feeling him brush that spot deep inside.
His hands move carefully, spreading your thighs, then inching out of you to roll slowly back in.
The pair of you groan. Bucky starts to move, thrusting at an agonisingly slow pace, allowing friction to build as you both pant.
“Bucky,” you gasp. “Please, more.”
He gives you a tight grin, as if he’d been waiting for this.
He pulls your legs up so your calves are over his shoulders, bending you so your thighs are against your chest.
“Oh fuck,” you cry out as his hips snap into you, now hitting deep enough to hit the spongy spot that made the world fall away.
“That’s it,” he mutters between his clenched jaw, hips thrusting faster. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Buck- I’m close,” you whine, unintentionally allowing the nickname he reserved for his closest friends to slip from your lips.
The metal fingers of his left hand move between you, rubbing over your clit frantically as he continues to move.
Your head falls back against the pillow as you cry out, body shaking as you fall apart.
“God. Fuck! I can’t-“ he was cut off by a choked noise, your insides suddenly filled with a warmth.
The room was silent other than the heavy sounds of breathing. Bucky gently lowers your legs, pulls you until you arms and rolls to pull you onto his chest.
Your fingers make patterns on his chest.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“What for?” His left hand tilts your head up, looking at you carefully.
“For the date,” you say. “For this.”
His arm tightens around you, and he kisses the top of your head. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do,” you whisper. “When you asked for a date, I wasn’t sure how serious you were. I convinced myself you didn’t want me.”
He lifts you up slightly so your faces are practically touching.
“I don’t want you?” He repeats with a slight frown. “Girl, I wanted you the moment you batted those eyelashes at me.”
You blush slightly.
“I want you, in fact I want to keep you,” he squeezes you. “If you’ll have me.”
You can’t restrain the smile from spreading across your face. “I’d really like that.”
Bucky then presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. When you come round tomorrow we can have another date? A picnic or a movie?”
“Either sounds nice,” you agree. “As long as it’s with you.”
He beams, his nose gently bumping against yours. You reach under him to place your hands on his shoulder blades, snuggling into his chest.
You inhale deep, smelling the faintest trace of grease, metal and his woody cologne.
Something solidified in your chest, deciding that he smelt like home.
author's note: kudos to anyone who noticed the little tid that's a reference to sebastian himself. thank you all for reading!! ❤︎₊ ⊹
