Hold You Tight: Part 36
Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.
Part 35 | Series Masterlist | Part 37
Chapter Word Count: Almost 6.5k
Chapter Summary: You share a meal with Bucky and take the next step.
Chapter Warnings: Kissing, protected p. in v. sex, DUBCON (due to the surrounding circumstances), dirty talk, inner turmoil, possessive behavior, world building, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.
A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
It was surreal, letting Bucky lead you back to the dining area. You spotted Ray and Curtis whispering to each other in the kitchen, which stopped almost when you went in to get the food. Their expressions gave nothing away, but you weren’t focused on what they were discussing. You instead wondered if you looked different to them. If they had any idea that you were just on your knees for their boss.
“I hope you two enjoy,” you said, nodding to their plates. “But I understand if you aren’t hungry.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to go through the trouble,” Ray said, his eyes softening. So did Curtis’s.
Bucky had a wide smile on his face as he grabbed your plate and his. “She really is something, isn’t she?” he asked, winking at you. “Great with her hands and her mouth.”
You gasped at the implication and elbowed his side. “Go to the table,” you ordered in a whisper. The other men, to their credit, didn’t react and you were thankful for that.
Your dangerous boyfriend didn’t look at all ashamed. If anything, he looked like he was floating on air as you went to the table, his eyes sparkling. There wasn’t triumph. Just joy, and maybe a hint of pride.
“Let’s have some wine,” he suggested, pulling out your chair for you and resting his hands on your shoulders once you sat down. “Red or white?”
“Red, please,” you replied, staring at your plate while he fetched a bottle and glasses. He poured for you first, his hand steady and sure, and then his own. Settling in his seat with a content sigh, you found yourself smiling.
“What’s that look for?” he asked, digging in with a moan.
“I’m just… surprised,” you replied. The air was lighter than before. The tension was different, no awkwardness or lingering fear. It should have frightened you that this was close to normalcy.
His fork moved slowly, like he was savoring the moment just as much as the food. “A good kind of surprise. I can see it on your face,” he said, reaching across the table to grasp your hand. “This is exactly what I’ve dreamed of. A nice meal with the love of my life in our home.”
You looked at your joined hands, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours as he rubbed hypnotic circles with his thumb. “Dreams are different for everyone.”
“But we do share a lot of the same dreams,” he reminded you, which you couldn’t deny. “Love. Companionship. Someone to ease the lonely days.”
Loneliness ate away at the soul. It didn’t do it all at once. It did so in small pieces, so miniscule that one wouldn’t notice at first. Until one day enough was chipped away that the colors and sounds around you dulled. It dragged you down since there wasn’t enough to lift you up.
You weren’t the kind of person who stayed down. The ground beneath you demanded that you walk tall, not collapse. So you tried by offering kindness and brightness in small doses, hoping they might fill the void in others. And you quietly held onto the belief that someday it would be your turn. That someone would see you, share a life with you, and ease the heartache.
“You changed my entire world to bring me into yours,” you retorted, but there was no anger. “Calm and chaos, a perfect storm.”
He nodded, not disagreeing with you. “Sometimes we need chaos to appreciate the calm that comes after.”
You looked toward the balcony, remembering how you snapped at him for forcing his way into your life and his calm response in doing so. Maybe you were the chaos in some way, too, by rewriting his life. You were his storm presented in a package of care and hope. Instead of running, he ran into the eye of it and shifted everything to make sure you wouldn’t fade under his watch.
He followed your gaze, a gentle smile on his face. “When we sat out there, you told me you were just a florist. Nothing special. Someone who wanted to live a simple little life.”
You remembered it like it was yesterday. Your life was far from simple now, and it never would be again. “You said one of the things that makes me special is that I do things without expecting anything in return,” you said, looking back at him. He believed in his heart that you were special. That wasn’t a lie. “You also said traditional dating never worked for you because people always wanted something.”
“I stand by that,” he said, squeezing your hand, his eyes on you. “And I stand by what I said that we’re right for each other, even if I’m not the man you expected to have.”
You sipped the wine and let it settle. You still wished things could’ve been a little bit more traditional between you two. It was a thought you needed to let go of because it wouldn’t change anything. He would’ve found a way to have you by his side.
“This feels like the beginning of a new chapter,” he continued, managing to eat with one hand so he didn’t have to let you go. “And I’m going to protect and cherish it.”
“Even if you have to set the world on fire to do it?” you asked, not flinching when he paused.
He smiled, still looking as happy as he did when you were on your knees. “I’ll make sure the flames never burn you,” he promised.
Bucky would protect you from the flame, even if he was the one who lit the match. He wasn’t walking through life like he was asleep any longer because you made him feel. He went too long without you in his life to ever let you go.
“Thank you for making dinner,” he said, his voice softer. “I can’t remember if I thanked you.”
You smiled softly. To you, it was a simple gesture, but you knew it was so much more to him. “You’re welcome,” you said, genuinely glad that he enjoyed it.
“I really could get used to this,” he murmured, his posture relaxed and your throat dry. He didn’t look like a man living in the shadows of violence and obsession. He looked like someone basking in the glow of sharing a moment with the person who mattered to him the most.
“Do you have to go to the club tonight?” you asked, finishing your glass.
“No, which I’m glad I don’t,” he replied, surprising you. “It’s chaos and control and it’s mine, but it isn’t peaceful to me,” he continued, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Except when you’re there.”
“I’ve only been to your club four times,” you pointed out. You didn’t know him the first time you were there, the second visit was overwhelming and forced, the third was only because of Clark, and you spent most of the recent visit with your friends. Until you went to his office, let him spread you out on his desk and eat you like a starved man.
The thought made your cheeks burn. He tasted you like you were a forbidden fruit he’d give up paradise for. And he praised you with love and devotion when you had him in your mouth. You could do no wrong in his eyes, could you?
He smirked like he knew what was on your mind. “Next time we go, you can stay with me in my office if you don’t want to be out on the floor.”
You sighed inwardly. You weren’t a party girl, but you couldn’t exactly avoid the club. It did help that Bucky didn’t care what you wore or how long you’d stay. He at least respected that.
“Only if Hal can make my drinks,” you teased. You couldn’t help it. Hal was a likeable guy, and he was good at his job.
Bucky’s eyes flashed, but the jealousy faded quickly. “He’s keeping his shirt on,” he half growled.
You laughed softly and he followed a heartbeat after, the mixed sound echoing off the walls. The first time you sat at that table, you couldn’t imagine ever relaxing. Tonight was real laughter, free of the burden of everything that came before it.
When the sound faded, he stared at you like he was seeing you again for the first time. You were the center of his universe. Everything began and ended with you. Instead of hiding from his gaze, you let out a breath and stared back at him. Your universe didn’t begin and end with him in the same sense, but you were entwined. A part of each other. Like venom in the veins, you couldn’t stop it from spreading. There was no cure. No remedy.
He made sure of that every step of the way.
“I have an idea,” he said, leaning across the table like he had a secret to share. “You mentioned wanting to help women who have been hurt in some capacity, right? And I said funds wouldn’t be an issue?”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you said, wondering where he was going with that.
“Why don’t we have a fundraiser of sorts at the club?” he suggested, finishing his glass of wine, too. “All profits will go to the charity or foundation you set up. I’ll make sure our biggest VIP clients are there, and our friends. It’ll be a night to celebrate you and your giving heart.”
Your breath stuttered. He could’ve funded the whole thing with the kind of money he had, and likely would if you asked, but he wanted others to donate to the cause. He wanted the people of his kingdom to support the dreams of his queen.
“That’s… very thoughtful of you, Bucky,” you said, feeling more emotional than you expected. He continued to surprise you, even when everything confused you. “Thank you.”
“I told you I want to give you the world, and I don’t want your light to dim. If this is what you want, I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen.”
Your throat went tight. He was offering his name, his space, and his influence. He framed it not as a transaction, but as support and devotion. It was all in the name of your light.
“You’ve given me so much,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. “Let me help you give something back.”
You blinked, trying to keep yourself steady. “This is going to sound silly, but do you think some of those people will care?”
He leaned in closer. “They’ll care because I’ll make them care,” he said with enough determination to make you shiver. “But they’ll keep caring because you’ll remind them what it means to feel… and what it means to give.”
You shook your head. “But it isn’t about me,” you whispered. It was about others who needed help and people to fight for them.
“It’ll be about what you stand for, and what you’re fighting for,” he promised, looking down only for a moment. “And they’ll see that I finally have someone worth fighting for. Someone I’d kill and die for.”
His devotion was the kind that poets wrote about, and many fantasized about. In many stories, he would be a hero forged in darkness instead of calling himself a villain. One that some wouldn’t understand but would want to have a happy ending for. Some would even ask why the heroine fought so much.
Why fight someone who rewrote the stars to align?
“Then let’s do it,” you said after a moment. If you were going to be a queen in his twisted kingdom, at least you could do something good with it.
His face lit up, and he kissed your hand again. “I can have a team start planning tomorrow, and you’ll be involved every step of the way.”
“And what I say goes?”
“You’re in charge, Kotyonok. I’ll make sure everyone knows that,” he swore.
The fist around your heart loosened. He wasn’t just trying to build a life with you. He was doing everything in his power to help you build a legacy.
He helped you up from your seat once you finished your meal, pulling you close. There was no music, but he swayed with you. You rested your head against him, his hands caressing you like he was trying to remind himself that you were real.
“It’s a nice night,” he whispered in your ear. “Why don’t we sit out on the balcony and read?”
“You don’t want to drag me to bed?” you asked, just a little suspicious.
He chuckled and lifted your head so you’d look at him. “I just want us to have a nice evening together. First of many going forward.”
You let him guide you to the balcony, the air cool on your skin. The city thrived below, but it was almost quiet up there. He helped you sit and quickly sat beside you to wrap a blanket around your shoulders. A book was already waiting, too. Did he plan this?
“Why don’t you read, and I’ll listen?” he offered, placing the book in your hands.
You titled your head. “You don’t want to read it yourself?”
“I want to hear your voice. It soothes me,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “Makes me forget about the blood you helped wash off my hands.”
All you could manage in response was a quiet nod and a faint smile. You slowly opened the book and let the words drift into the night. He put an arm around you and you felt his eyes on your face, but it didn’t feel like he was trying to consume you. Not this time. He was trying to create and share a tender moment.
Intimacy didn’t always mean fire and frenzy.
“This is perfect,” he whispered when you turned the page, his lips brushing a spot just beneath your ear. When you paused to look at him, he stared back like you were the only thing worth seeing. “You’re perfect.”
You sighed. “Bucky, I’m not-”
His mouth found yours, swallowing the rest of your words down. It wasn’t urgent. It was like he needed to taste the bit of peace he claimed you gave him, his hand cradling your cheek and breath hitching when you didn’t pull away.
You kissed him back, slowly and softly. The warmth of the blanket and his arm wrapped around you pulled you deeper into the moment. The book rested in your lap, forgotten as the pages moved in the breeze. It seemed to serve its purpose by bringing you two together in a way you didn’t anticipate.
He exhaled like he finally let go of something heavy when he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re perfect because you’re you, and that’s more than enough. You know that, right?”
You smiled tiredly, a smile that hid more than it showed. It wasn’t enough for your parents, and it never would be. It wasn’t enough to attract a normal type of love or attention. But you were lucky in many ways. You would continue to remind yourself of that during the rough days. The moments when you’d think of how afraid you were or when Clark hurt you.
Bucky didn’t demand a response nor did he try to unravel the layers behind your smile. There was a good chance he knew what you were thinking. “You’re special, Kotyonok. Extraordinary,” he whispered, his nose nudging yours. The slow aching bloom of being seen and chosen spread inside, the praise cutting you open and healing you all at once. “And I’m the luckiest man alive to have you.”
“You are lucky,” you said, half teasing and half truth.
“I know. I just said that,” he teased, urging you to rest against him.
The night seemed to settle around the two of you. You sat together and watched the city lights flicker like brightly colored stars. You didn’t start reading again, and he made no move to grab the book either. There was no need to fill the silence.
You closed your eyes after a few minutes. He certainly held you like a man in love instead of obsession. Feelings didn’t always make sense. They didn’t follow logic or time. They were raw, confusing, and either tore people apart or kept them together.
You weren’t sure much time passed when he sat you up. “We should go inside before we fall asleep.”
With a hand on your back, he led you back inside. The air crackled as you moved toward the master bedroom, your heart pounding. Bucky must’ve sensed it since his hand pressed against you a fraction more. Ray and Curtis were nowhere to be seen, almost like they knew they weren’t needed.
Was this it?
You held your breath when you entered the room, staring at the bed like it was a ticking time bomb. Instead of guiding you toward it or kissing you, Bucky stunned you by going straight to the bathroom. You followed him on shaky legs and realized he was about to go through his nightly routine. He wasn’t rushing or pressuring you, continuing to keep his word on that matter.
You stole a glance at him as you both brushed your teeth, and it struck you how normal he looked. He wasn’t playing a role or on guard. Were you the only one who ever got to see him like this? “What?” you asked when you caught him looking back at you.
“Nothing,” he said, rinsing his mouth out. “You’re just beautiful. Even like this.”
“I’m not,” you said, rinsing your mouth out, too, and doing your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.
“You are,” he said, kissing your temple with a smile.
You turned away from the mirror and stared at the space on the floor where you were not too long ago. He had been so deep in your throat, and you let that happen. No, letting it happen would imply that you didn’t have a choice when you were the very person who chose it. You chose him.
“I’ll never forget how beautiful you looked on your knees,” he whispered, touching your warm cheek. “It was the best gift you could’ve given me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you chose me, even when I didn’t deserve your grace.”
The bathroom light cast shadows across his face as you tried not to let his honesty disarm you. He offered the truth to you easily, freely, like he no longer had anything to hide from you. He wasn’t trying to win or wear you down tonight. At least, it didn’t feel like he was.
Because he said earlier he was going to love you better, the way you needed, and you believed it.
He offered you an oversized shirt to wear, one that seemed to smell suspiciously like his cologne, and didn’t look while you changed. He used the time to pick out his own pajamas, a soft black t-shirt and sweats. At night in the comfort of his own was the only time you ever saw him dress down. Once again, he gave you glimpses of himself that he didn’t let others see.
You steeled yourself when you looked at the bed again and willed yourself to step forward. Each step seemed to echo in your mind, telling you that it wasn’t too late to go to the guest room. You owed it to yourself to be comfortable and safe. You owed it to yourself to keep choosing.
With a shaky hand, you pulled the blanket back and slid in. It was, without a doubt, the best mattress you had ever felt in your life. It smelled like him. Between the bed and the shirt, he almost surrounded you completely. Almost.
“Fuck,” you heard from across the room when you fluffed your pillow.
You sucked in a breath when you looked at Bucky, your eyes wide when his fists curled and he audibly exhaled. He looked like he was a heartbeat away from snapping. Then he smiled.
“You’re really in our bed,” he said so softly that you nearly missed it. Or maybe it was because your heart was beating so loudly that it nearly drowned out the rest of the noise around you. “You’re really home.”
Home.
The way he said it made your chest ache. It wasn’t a fortress or a cage to keep you locked in or safe from the outside world. It wasn’t a temporary living space. It was…
He crossed the room in a few determined strides like he had been waiting for this because he had been, and you lost your breath all over again. You didn’t shrink back. You didn’t blink. And he didn’t reach for you immediately, stopping just beside the bed and staring down at you like you were made of glass, like you’d break if he touched you.
No matter what happened, you weren’t going to shatter.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, grasping the blanket and pulling it back to reveal your body, still in the shirt he gave you to sleep in. You didn’t realize you were gripping the sheets until you loosened your hold. “Not just sex. Just… you here with me.”
You studied him in the dim light. He looked gentler, younger, stripped of his darkness and armor. He was nothing like the man who stalked and terrified you. This was a man who wanted to believe in something soft. Something real.
An unexpected tear escaped your eye, which he wiped away. “Are you scared?” he whispered, his jaw clenching. “I don’t want to scare you. Not anymore.”
It was a far cry from the club owner who used fear to get what he wanted. “I’m scared of what happens tomorrow,” you whispered back.
Because sleeping with him was the real point of no return. It was crossing the divide and going to his side for good. It was surrender. A choice, but still surrender.
His hand lingered on your cheek. “Tomorrow will come, and we’ll face that together,” he said, steady and tender. “We can just let tonight be ours.”
“Ours,” you repeated, laying back when he moved on top of you slowly, his weight settling over you.
Your mind drifted back to earlier on the rooftop. You were positioned just like this, your body under his. A familiar shiver rolled down your spine at the look in his eyes, but there was something else. He was waiting for permission.
“It’s your choice,” he reminded you, his lips brushing yours so gently. “And if you chose me again, I’ll prove every day that you made the right choice.”
You felt the weight of his words just as much as the weight of his body. His kisses weren’t coaxing, his voice not demanding. You felt the pull all the same. The inevitable.
“Am I losing my fire if I say yes?” you asked. Were you losing your fight by accepting?
The storm of want in his eyes softened, his breath mingling with yours. “You’ll never lose your fire,” he promised, his thumb moving along your jaw. “You’re just choosing where you want it to burn.”
His answer was heavy and liberating. He wasn’t asking you to give up your fight. Not really. Maybe he was suggesting to let it live within you and shift into something that didn’t have to hurt.
“You fought me because you felt like you had no other choice,” he said, low and certain. “Now you can fight with me. Always.”
The ache of resistance clashed with the ache of longing, your hand shaking when you brought it to his chest. Choosing wouldn’t extinguish your flame. Like life, it would adapt because it had to.
His heart beat faster under your hand when you whispered, “I’ll choose you again tonight,” you whispered.
You’d live with that choice tomorrow.
His lips curled into a slow smile and you heard his sigh of relief before he kissed you. He sealed your choice with reverence instead of conquest. Then it deepened until you were breathless. It was visceral and desperate, like he had something to prove.
He was trying to breathe into your lungs how much he loved you.
He pulled back to remove his shirt, his eyes dark. He was objectively handsome and you knew he had a great body, but it was something else up close. You traced a scar by his left shoulder and you wondered if this was how he saw himself inside, both strong and carrying reminders of pain.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, pulling your hand back, your gaze as apologetic as your voice. You didn’t ask to touch his scar. Disrespecting boundaries wasn’t something you ever wanted to do.
“Never apologize for touching me,” he said, his voice raw. He cupped your hand and guided it back to his shoulder as though he wanted you to feel it. “Every mark on me tells a story. And if you touch them, it means I don’t have to carry them alone.”
You let your fingers linger as they traced the uneven line. He closed his eyes and exhaled. He wasn’t just giving you permission to touch him. It was a glimpse into his past, a part of what made him who he was.
His eyes opened when you leaned up and replaced your fingers with your lips. For a moment, he looked undone. “You see me, Kotyonok. Even when I scared you and you wanted to run, you saw me. I know you did.”
You saw many sides of him. The man who ruled the city, the boy who loved his mom and hated his dad, and the person who desperately wanted love. You saw those layers because he showed them to you.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. It wasn’t any less desperate, but this felt more certain. “Are you wet for me?”
You didn’t have to answer since his hand slid between your legs, making you gasp. Your words were stuck in your throat. He fantasized about you so many times, and you had to wonder if the real thing would measure up to any of it.
“Fuck, Kotyonok. You’re soaked,” he rasped, his palm brushing over the damp fabric. The desire in his eyes was nothing short of intoxicating. “That’s my girl. My girl.”
You turned your head, unsure if it was because of the intensity of his gaze or if you were embarrassed since he was right. “Bucky, what if I’m not enough?” you blurted out.
He shifted the universe around to keep you and you knew he wouldn’t sway, but that insecure voice in your head had to ask. Because if he put you through all of this and let you go, you’d crack. You didn’t want to admit that, but it was true.
The other hand pushing your shirt up stilled. It was as if all the air left the room. It felt cold. Concern took over his face. Disbelief. Even anger for a second.
“Not enough?” he asked, almost broken. His hand seemed to move again on its own accord, carefully removing your shirt. You didn’t cover yourself up, wanting him to see for himself that you were just you. “Kotyonok, you’re the only thing that has ever been enough.”
You eyed him almost shyly, your chest rising and falling. You didn’t cover yourself up, wanting him to see for himself that you were just you. The raw, unguarded passion in his eyes could’ve cut you like a blade.
His hands slid up your body, your back aching as he took your breasts in his hands. “I meant it when I said you’re perfect. I rule this city and it doesn’t matter. None of it mattered until you,” he said, his breathing uneven, his thumbs brushing your nipples with care. “You’re not just enough. You’re everything.”
You whimpered, on the verge of tears when he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth. You cradled his head, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. The sensation of his hands and mouth flooded you with a sense of belonging, a connection you never asked him for but he offered you anyway.
“I’ll stop if that’s what you want,” he murmured, moving to your other breast. “But don’t ever say or think that you aren’t enough for me. I love you too much to let you believe that.”
“Don’t stop,” you whispered, swallowing hard. “Just… please, don’t wrap your hand around my throat.”
It seemed almost silly to ask, but you just knew your mind would go to Clark if Bucky did that. At least, for now, it would. You refused to let the memory of him into this space. You would maintain control of your body and what happened with it.
He lifted his head and an unspoken promise passed between you. “Whatever you want. I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, leaning up to press a tender kiss on your neck. “I’ll be so good to you.”
Your legs trembled when he pulled your underwear down, leaving you completely bare. His pants and underwear followed, and you tried not to stare at his hard cock as he took it in his hand and stroked it. You had seen it, touched it, but this was different.
“This is all for you. Only you,” he groaned, releasing himself to put his hand back between your legs. Did he feel you shaking? “You’re fucking exquisite, do you know that? Made just for me to worship,” he praised, slipping a finger into you and making you gasp. “For me to love.”
His touch was deep, but careful. His lips found your forehead, your cheek, brushing over your skin so that it warmed. Your mouth quivered by the time he kissed it. You surrendered to the gentleness you didn’t know he was fully capable of.
You half expected your first time together to be frenzied, or even a full-blown romantic setting with candles and flowers. This felt more rooted in realism for you, and it was what you needed. You wondered if he realized that.
“I’ll give you what you need. I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, another finger sliding in and your hands finding his shoulders to hold on. “I’ve got you.”
Bucky could’ve easily dominated you, but he was showing restraint and tenderness. He was attentive and honored the boundary you set. He wanted you to trust him, to put your heart and body in his care.
“You’re doing so well taking my fingers. You’ll take my cock even better. I know you will,” he said, your walls clenching around him. He promised you once that you’d beg for more when he took you to bed, that he’d ruin you. At the time, you never expected you’d willingly go to bed with him.
Tomorrow. You’d reflect and handle your thoughts and emotions tomorrow. Not tonight. Not now.
“Wait,” you gasped, your eyes wide. He took his fingers out immediately. “Do you… have protection?”
“Protection?” he echoed, his brows furrowing. “I do, but… do we really need anything between us? I’m clean and I know you are.”
“That’s… not what I’m worried about,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t lie to you about whether he was clean or not. “Birth control…”
With the stress of everything, you admittedly hadn’t taken complete care of yourself in that regard.
His gaze went to your stomach in realization. “The morning after pill is an option,” he mused.
You heard the shift in his tone, calculation over desire. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and have to erase what happened between us,” you said, framing his face with your hands. “We can figure it out going forward later, but for tonight, please?”
You didn’t want to upset him or push him beyond his control, but this was your body and your choice.
His eyes went back to your stomach. You knew he was conflicted. The possessive part of him wanted to be inside you in every way. But he finally nodded. “I’ll use protection tonight if that’s really what you want.”
Your heart still raced, but the tension in your chest eased as he leaned over to open the nightstand drawer. Maybe he knew deep down you’d want protection and made sure he was prepared. At least he didn’t dismiss it outright. He let you make the call, even with the hunger that burned all over his face.
Your fingers brushed his hand when he tore the wrapper open. “Thank you,” you whispered as he rolled the condom on. He honored your decision.
There was a hint of a smile on his face. “Told you I’d take care of you. That means all of you,” he said, settling between your legs. “And right now, I need to be inside you. Please.”
Warmth spread low as you nodded, giving him an invitation instead of slamming a door.
His eyes locked with yours and you felt the head of his cock nudge your entrance, your heart almost stopping. But you didn’t stop him. “I love you,” he breathed, slowly pushing into you as his lips devoured yours.
You felt every inch of him and you forgot how to breathe, the stretch and the burn make you seize up. His hands cradled your face this time when he ended the kiss, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones, looking at you like he was memorizing every detail. You were the sole focus of his world. You always would be.
“Fuck. You feel better than I imagined. So much better,” he whispered, looking seconds away from coming undone. You still didn’t take a breath. “Are you okay? Breathe. I need you to breathe for me.”
It took a second for you to inhale and exhale. Bucky followed your pattern, breathing deeply and slowly. “So much,” you gasped.
His cock buried inside you. Your mind and heart racing. It was so much, almost too much. Yet his tender kisses and rough hands quieted the noise.
“I know, but I’ve got you,” he breathed, trailing kisses along your jaw up to your ear. “I won’t let you go.”
You inhaled and exhaled.
And then he began to move.
Your body trembled as he thrust, or maybe it was your very soul since he wanted a place in every part of you. His gaze didn’t waver as he drove deep and you couldn’t look away, his fingers lacing with yours as he pinned a hand above your head. He let your other hand remain free to touch him, hold on, whatever you wanted.
“You’re fucking gorgeous like this. Taking my cock like you were made for it.” Each roll of his hips was deliberate, every kiss and touch a brand on your skin. “Mine. You’re mine.”
You moaned, not needing to agree with words. “Bucky,” you whimpered when he lifted your hips.
“That’s it. Say it my name, doll,” he said, the pet name he hadn’t used in a while coming out in a growl, his hands caressing anywhere he could reach. “Feel how much I love you.”
His arms wrapped around you, wordlessly demanding that you cling to him. He surrounded and consumed you while he worshipped at your altar. He swore forever and beyond when he saw you and he was reminding you of that promise with his body. His very being.
“Fuck, yes,” he moaned, his eyes nearly rolling back. “Just like that, Kotyonok. So perfect.”
You realized then that your body was moving with his, speaking in a language he was fluent in. He was teaching you, guiding you. He was binding you closer to him. And you were letting him.
“So beautiful. So fucking beautiful,” he praised, licking his thumb and bringing it between your bodies. “I want to stay in this moment forever… stay deep inside you.”
You bucked beneath him, his thumb expertly circling your clit. Your world narrowed to him, and you felt like you’d shatter into a million pieces. It was okay to break tonight if you did. You’d put yourself back together. If you didn’t, he’d somehow find the glue and piece you back together himself.
“Need you to come for me,” he demanded, his voice rough, his hips rocking faster. The movements stole your breath and your toes began to curl. “I love you… and you love me, too.”
Your orgasm crashed over you with little warning, your cry a mixture of surprise and ecstasy. Your body arched and trembled under him, and he kept thrusting. His declaration echoed in the fog of pleasure, wrapping around you through the bliss until his hips faltered. He moaned your name like you were his angel, his savior.
He collapsed over you once he stilled, both of you panting. There are no words you could say. The aftermath was thick. His weight pressed you into the mattress, the rhythm of his breath syncing with yours.
He didn’t move right away, choosing to bury his face in your neck and brush his lips against your skin with gratitude. “That was perfect,” he said, his voice like gravel. “And you don’t have to say it back yet, but thank you for letting me love you.”
Did he really believe you loved him?
You gasped when he rolled to his side and moved you with him, his cock still inside you. He only took himself out when he had to throw the condom away. You shivered when he pulled the covers around you both, and he sighed happily when he kissed your lips. His fingers moved along your back, keeping you in the moment and not letting you drift away.
Sleeping with him didn’t make the world implode. It continued to move around you like nothing changed, but everything looked different. And you felt different. You were still you, and Bucky was still Bucky, but it seemed like something shifted.
You couldn’t slow your racing heart. It wasn’t a dream. You willingly slept with the man who systematically rearranged your life. The person who would love you until his last breath and whatever came after. Who looked at you like he won and like you created the skies above.
“Sleep, Kotyonok,” he whispered, his breath gentle against your forehead and looking happier than ever before. “I’ve got you.”
The softness of the bed, his tight hold, and the utter exhaustion made you close your eyes. You were sure that he would want to talk more about everything tomorrow. But tonight you were in his arms and in his bed.
Tonight, you were completely his.
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
OKAY. Let's take a breath. Full disclosure, my original draft locked up, and I had to write over 2/3 from memory, which is why this is posted late. I also cried a bit writing this because, yes, I'm emotionally invested in my own story. I know some of you may be happy for the sex, and some of you may not be happy. Our dear Kotyonok is still fighting herself and her agency. Bucky doesn't make it easy.
But I'm curious what you think will happen next. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
