Summary: Bucky returns from a mission to find his girl asleep in bed.
Warnings: canon divergent, BDSM D/bg themes, mild sexual situations,
A/N: I really just write for fun, no beta, and I wasn't an English major so I apologize for any mistakes.
conversation with @kittykatlow inspired this little story. Thanks, sweets for being the best partner in crime!
Bucky pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, not even bothering to park in the garage. It's not like anybody would dare steal his prized ride. From in front of his own house, not fucking likely. He pressed his palm just under his ribcage on his right side. It'll be tinder for a few more hours, but at least the burning had stopped. The gunshot wound was through and through, nothing his body wouldn't heal on its own. He jogged up the front steps two at a time. Fingers of his left hand firmly grip the door handle, the hiss of the locking mechanism releasing and he pushes the door open. Noting that the security system had been armed. Not bothering to turn on the lights he made his way through the front hall and up the stairs. It had been a long stressful day. All he wanted was to feel his girl beneath him while he settled in to sleep.
He rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, pausing mid-stride on his way passed the art studio. The light was still on. He frowned at the still half-finished piece on the easel in the middle of the room. Bucky looked around the space noticing that not only was your latest commission work unfinished, but art supplies lay strewn about. Unwashed brushes set on the table next to drying paint. He turned off the light on his way out and continues down the dark hallway to the shower.
Thirty minutes later he was scrubbed clean, wound dressed, bare feet padding down the corridor to the master bedroom. His eyes softened at the sight that greeted him. Tucked under the royal blue comforter covering his California king-sized bed lay his sweet girl. You looked small all alone in the middle of the bed, just your angelic face peaking out. Fluffy blown out midnight colored hair covering the smooth satin pillowcase beneath your head. He remembered the day Steve had dragged him to that strange luncheon, a munch his friend had called it. Steve had been worried about him, dating in this century hadn't been easy for him either. Natasha was the one responsible for introducing the two out of time soldiers to the lifestyle community. Convinced that both would find what they were looking for if only they'd give it a chance.
Looking at you now, warmth in his chest, Bucky was certain staying at that restaurant, and meeting you was the best decision he's ever made.
When his weight settled onto the bed shifting the mattress, you stirred in your sleep, nose scrunching, fingers pressing into the feather pillow beneath your hand. He brushed stray strands of hair away from your face when you smiled, drowsy eyes focusing on him. "Hi, Daddy."
His mouth turned up, a pleased smile crinkling the corners of his eyes "Lay back baby, let Daddy see those beautiful tits." You obey, turning over, the blanket slips from your shoulders exposing your nude torso. You shiver at the loss of warmth, goosebumps covering bare arms. Intense eyes the color of a stormy sea focus on you. He moves with the predatory grace of an apex predator, bulky frame hovering over you and you shiver for a different reason.
He cages you between his arms, bicep flexing with the effort of slowly lowering a fraction of his weight on top of your pliant body. "You ok baby? " you nod and he presses his lips to the divet in your throat before kissing along your heaving chest. Mouth hungry, wet tongue flicking over heated flesh. Your moans feeding blood to his throbbing cock. "Such a good girl for Daddy." A strangled sound gurgles out of your throat at the feel of his tongue laving a nipple. The wet texture swipes over the pebbled nub twice more before his lips are drawing the aching bud into his mouth. The gentle insistent suction on sensitive nerves is causing moisture to pool at your core. Squirming, a whispered plea is exhaled past trembling lips. "Mmm, my lovely needy girl." Another swipe of his tongue and your hips buck, desperate for the feel of him between your thighs. "No princess, you don't get to come tonight. Daddy's tired and you didn't finish your work." He presses a sweet kiss on the curve under your breast "Now, go to sleep. If you're a good girl I'll have that sweet little pussy of yours for breakfast." His left-hand glides along your body, stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He pushes your legs apart, smooth vibranium fingers tracing damp labia. Your hips jerk and you bite your lower lip to stifle a plea. His large palm cupping between your legs possessively before he takes a nipple into his mouth once more.
