I recently rewatched "Ready or not" and forgot how HOT Mark O'brien as Alex le Domas was😂
I know, i know he was an ass at the end but still. I think i love conflicted characters🤷🏻♀️
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You Shouldn't Have Stayed"
The first time Alex lies to you, it's small.
"I don't really talk to my family much" he says, voice easy, almost practiced, but his fingers tighten around yours like he's bracing for something.
You notice, you just don't push.
Because everything else about him feels real - the quiet smiles, the way he studies your face like he's memorizing it, the way he exhales when you lean into him, like you’re the only place he can rest.
So you let the lie sit between you, soft and harmless. At first....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It starts with the phone calls. Late at night.
Always late.
He never answers them in front of you.
You pretend to be asleep the first time you hear it - the low vibration against the nightstand, the pause before he picks up, the way his voice drops into something tight and controlled.
"I said I'd handle it."
A beat.
"No. Not yet."
Another.
"I know what happens if I don't."
Silence stretches after that, thick and suffocating.
When he comes back to bed, his hands are cold.
"Alex," you say a few nights later, tracing the line of tension along his jaw, "what aren't you telling me?"
For a moment, he doesn’t breathe.
Doesn’t move.
Then his eyes flick to yours - and there it is.
Fear.
Not of you but of losing you.
"You don't want to know..." he says quietly.
You should stop there.
You don't.
"Let me decide that"
His jaw tightens, something conflicted flashing behind his eyes. You can see the argument happening inside him - the part of him that wants to keep you safe, and the part that's so, so tired of carrying this alone.
"They'll come looking" he says finally.
Your brow furrows. "Who will?"
"My family"
The word sounds wrong in his mouth. Heavy. Bitter.
"I told you, I don't really -"
"You lied" you say softly.
He flinches.
Not because you're angry. Because you’re right and you would give up everything to be wrong.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few days feel like standing on the edge of something you can’t see.
Alex is… different.
Closer, somehow. Like he's trying to make up for something you don't fully understand.
He walks you home even when you insist you're fine. Keeps a hand on you like he needs the constant reassurance that you're still there. Still safe.
Still his.
"You could come with me" he says one evening while cuddling on the couch, too casually.
You glance up at him. "Where?"
"To meet them"
Every instinct in your body tells you something about this is wrong.
But Alex is watching you like the answer matters more than anything.
Like it might break him.
"But you said you don’t talk to them-"
"I don't" he says quickly. Then, softer, "Not like that..."
"Then why now?"
He hesitates.
And that hesitation says everything. You should have let it go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house is worse than you imagined. Too big. Too quiet. Like it's waiting.
You feel it the moment you step inside - something old, watching you like a hawk. You coudn't name it but you felt like a mouse trapped inside this antique house.
Alex's hand finds yours immediately, grip firm, grounding.
"Stay close to me" he murmurs.
You try to laugh it off. "What, are they that bad?"
He doesn't smile.
"Just… stay close. Please"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner is tense. Polite, but wrong.
The kind of polite that feels like teeth.
You catch the way his family looks at you - measured, curious, like they're trying to figure something out.
Like you're a variable and not a person.
Under the table, Alex's knee presses against yours. Steady, reassuring. But his hand? It's shaking.
"Alex" you whisper when you finally get a moment alone, pulling him into the hallway, away from the eyes and the whispers, "what is going on?"
His composure cracks.
Just a little.
"I shouldn't have brought you here"
That’s not an answer.
"That's not an answer" you say, your voice rising despite yourself.
"I thought-" He cuts himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. "I thought if you were with me, it would be different"
"Different how?" You blinked at him, wanting to hug him but stayed still. "What- what's going on?"
He looks at you then, really looks at you.
And something in your chest tightens at the guilt you see there.
"They only care about blood" he says. "About legacy. About-" He swallows hard. "About things that don't and shoudn't matter"
"Then why do you care what they think?"
"I don't" he snaps, too fast.
The lie lands heavier this time.
Because now you know what’s underneath it.
Fear.
The shouting starts later.
You don't mean to overhear.
But your name carries through the walls too clearly to ignore.
"She's not part of this"
Alex's voice.
Sharp. Desperate.
"She is if she stays"
Another voice. Colder. Older.
Your stomach drops.
"You said I had time!"
"You said you were in control"
"I am"
"Then prove it!"
Silence. Long damn silence.
When Alex finds you, you're already packed.
Not much - just enough.
Just in case.
"I heard" you say before he can speak.
His face falls.
"Then you know you need to leave"
"No" you shake your head, heart pounding. "You're coming with me"
For a second, something like hope flickers across his face.
Then it dies.
"I can't"
"Why not?" You tried to grab his hand but he flinched.
"Because they won't let me..."
"And you're just going to let them decide that?"
"It's not that simple"
"It is!" you insist, stepping closer, grabbing his hands despite how cold they are. "Alex, whatever this is, we can figure it out. Together."
His grip tightens, almost painfully.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to prevent!"
You don't understand. Not fully, but you understand enough.
"They're going to hurt you" you whisper.
A hollow laugh escapes him.
"No" he says softly. "They're going to hurt you"
The realization hits like ice water. You froze.
"That's why you brought me here?"
"I've brought you here to keep you close" he corrects immediately, voice breaking. "To make sure I could-" He stops, swallowing hard. "I thought I could control it"
"And can you?"
The silence is answer enough.
"Then we leave" you say again, more urgently this time. "Right now! We don't wait, we don't ask-"
"They're already watching..."
Your breath catches.
"What?"
Alex steps closer, lowering his voice. "You think they'd let us walk out after tonight? After they've seen you?"
Panic curls in your chest.
"Alex-"
"Listen to me" he says, hands framing your face now, forcing you to meet his eyes. "If anything happens - anything - you run. You don't look back. You don't wait for me"
"I'm not leaving you"
"You have to"
"No!"
His voice hardens, desperate. "That's not a choice, at least not ours"
"Then neither is this" you fire back, tears burning in your eyes. "I'm not running while you stay behind to-what? Protect me from a distance? Sacrifice yourself?"
"If that's what it takes"
You stare at him
At the fear.
At the love.
At the resignation.
And something inside you refuses to accept it.
"Then I'm staying" you say quietly.
His expression shatters.
"You shouldn't have stayed" he whispers, almost to himself.
"Too late" you reply
For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you.
No house. No family. No looming threat you still don’t fully understand.
Just Alex, standing in front of you like he's already lost you.
"I was trying to save you" he says, voice barely holding together.
"Then don't do it alone."
He lets out a shaky breath, forehead dropping against yours.
For the first time since you arrived, he doesn't look torn.
Just… certain.
"Okay" he whispers.
It’s not a promise, it's a decision.
Somewhere in the house, a door slams and then footsteps echo. Voices rise.
Whatever's coming - it's starting.
Alex pulls back just enough to look at you one last time.
Synopsis: When you get interrupted while finally testing the bullet vibrator you'd gotten, you make a rash decision to prevent yourself from getting caught. But when that leads to you leaving with the bullet still in, the remote dangerously bouncing around in your bag, and your frustratingly protective and attractive bodyguard right by you all day.... Well, things don't exactly go to plan.
Warnings: fluff & nsfw content; so much yearning, soft!bucky, sweet & protective!bucky, remote bullet vib used & accidentally left in while the reader goes about her day, cockwarming (w/toy), in public, teasing, edging/orgasm denial, humiliation, clit stim, overstim, grinding, having to keep quiet (bucky puts his hand over the reader's mouth), and some depictions of shame & anxiety
Word Count: 11k
A/N: A bucky fic??? on my blog?? in 2024??? We're saying hi to an old friend here.
"Everything okay?"
Two words that came as a whisper in your ear. You listened to the leather seats press underneath his weight, his broad shoulders filling the back seat of the car. Two assistants sat up front with a driver in front of them, all eyeing the obvious breach of rules regarding the closeness between the two of you, and you ignored all three of them.
Until you felt Bucky's fingers barely brush against your forearm. A little tap to get your attention, as if anyone could ever be unaware of him in their personal space. He might've done a good job at blending into the background when he needed to be a silent guard, but next to him? He smelled like sandalwood and whatever ridiculous product he used to keep his hair back and out of his eyes. And his low voice was almost cruel so early in the morning, and even crueler when you were going through the worst predicament of your life.
"I'm fine," you muttered, eyes glued to the window.
You were about as far from fine as you could get. Partially his fault, too, but you couldn't exactly tell him why. So you kept your eyes averted from those ridiculous blue ones that you could feel observing you. Trying to pierce through the makeshift veil you had thrown over yourself. He could probably tell you were sitting too still and too stiff. You were willing your legs to not nervously bounce nor try and press together to hide what was already hidden inside you.
You squeezed the armrest a little tighter, your nails threatening to puncture it. Don't give it away. A forcibly quieted breath came a tad shaky, and Bucky was close enough to hear it. He would've probably already seen it even from where he should've been sitting. Observant bastard. Meant he was good at his job, but still.
He'd interrupted a private time, and you were paying for it in the worst fucking way. What awful consequences to simply trying to enjoy what you'd thought were ten minutes of downtime in the morning. Turned out the clock in your hotel room was five minutes behind, and in your ill attempt to avoid morning stress, you hadn't checked your phone.
Your knee bounced as Bucky's impossibly quiet breath fanned against your neck, still waiting for you to elaborate on your clear lie. But you kept your eyes on the window, ignoring the goosebumps that started to rise at the gentle, warm feeling.
"I'm fine, Bucky," you muttered, giving him a stern look.
Meeting his gaze was mistake number three of the ones you'd already made that morning. The first was thinking you had the opportunity to use the discreet bullet in the time you hadn't had that morning, standing in the bathroom, underwear tugged down your legs, one hand on the wall with the remote in it as you circled your clit with your fingers. You'd been so close to finally having that moment to yourself.
Weeks. It'd been weeks of work. Weeks of lonely nights. Weeks of early mornings. Your fingers kept you from going insane, but you'd missed the feeling of…of being filled, of the extra stimulation, of the fun. Apparently, you weren't allowed that. Or, at least, you could've been if you'd managed to get up earlier than you had.
Late was late with you. It reflected poorly on not just you but your team, and apparently, even being a minute or two late wasn't allowed. You were hardly able to turn the toy off and pull your underwear up when you heard Bucky's horribly timed knock on your door. Apparently, your slightly frantic one second timed with being five minutes behind brought out his keycard to your room.
And there you were, hardly able to right yourself, making the number one worst mistake you could've as you flattened out the bottom of your skirt and looked Bucky in the eye like nothing was wrong. The toy was still pressed inside you, your cunt was still dripping wet, and you were holding the remote behind your back with your bag in hand.
If you looked frazzled, you'd hardly given Bucky the chance to comment on it. He'd seen you in the morning before you'd gotten ready. When you were sick and vomiting. When you were rushed out in thunderstorms, battered by the rain and the wind. Even a smidge drunk while clinging onto his arm for support while going down steps.
A little morning frazzle wouldn't phase him.
You pushed passed him without much of a second thought, trying to rush toward the car with a fucking bullet vibrator inside you. You barely managed to slip the remote into your handbag in the process, praying he hadn't seen it.
Guess he'd noticed something was up. You hadn't done much else than look out the window at the passing scenery since the thirty-minute drive started. You weren't inherently talkative, especially in the mornings, but with all your focus going to not giving away the obvious, you were silent. Apparently, after a few months with you, Bucky knew your habits.
He'd been hired for a reason, and that wasn't just because he wore the black suits well. His skill set was a step above everyone else hired for your protection, but still. There were more than a few cases where you'd wished he'd dialed the skills down. Having just about your every move scrutinized under a group of four people's eyes was more than simply annoying.
He said nothing when he finally sat back. The half a foot of distance was nothing when he commanded so much space. You could still smell him. His knee almost touched yours as he sat to fit in the seat. The quiet whirring of the metal he kept hidden under his jacket and a glove was still audible even under the music playing from the radio–almost like white noise that you normally wouldn't have minded. You'd never admit it to his face, but the sound was soothing during late-night drives and flights, him beside you, occasionally using his shoulder as a pillow as you caught much-needed sleep. But right about then?
Your leg bounced again. You forced it to stop, your cunt fluttering around the toy.
First bathroom you saw, you'd slip inside and just throw the damn thing away. Nobody would know, and you'd just be out a toy you could purchase again later. It'd already been a whole ordeal getting that one, but sacrifices had to be made to avoid cockwarming a toy the entire day. Massive sacrifices considering you were clutching your purse with your other hand, a vice grip that you prayed nobody would notice. If nobody decided to go through your purse–which none of the venues you were attending should–then nobody would see the remote. You'd be safe for those few moments until you could rid yourself of the damn thing.
So long as you didn't jostle your purse too much, either. The buttons were sensitive, and you hadn't the forethought to take the damn battery out of the back in your quick, frantic attempt to simply hide the thing.
Bucky's knee tapped yours in that way that you knew he was trying to get your attention. Whatever look he wanted you to try and decipher, you didn't look to meet it. You'd told him you were fine; he ought to drop it. It was nothing more than his curiosity getting the better of him, and you weren't going to humor it like you normally did.
Fifteen more minutes.
You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh.
Fifteen more minutes before you were nudged into a conference about an upcoming fundraiser you were on the board for. Marketing, catering, invite lists, press, dress code. You'd be in there for an hour at least and upwards of three. You couldn't…. You had to find a bathroom. There'd be one down the hall that you knew of already, and there could be one in the lobby. It felt atrocious having to fucking ask your security team and assistants some version of permission to use the bathroom like you weren't a full-grown adult who employed them. But when they cared about your safety, when they were on a time limit that had you already about to run late if you hit any more traffic….
Bucky had a hand on your upper arm as you went up the steps of the building. It wasn't abnormal of him to stick close to you, but it was a newer development. He used to stand in the back, eyes everywhere. You couldn't pinpoint the switch, but there'd just been a point where he'd started to stand a little closer, and suddenly, the unspoken line was breached, and he was beside you on occasion. Like then. A light touch of his bared hand, fingers rough and warm against the sensitive skin on your arm.
He flicked those blue eyes around before he got the door for your assistants and you, another brush of his fingers passing over your arm as you went through the tall opening. In front of and around you, your two assistants spouted things you already knew, and you simply nodded your head. They were far too good at their jobs, and you were far too overzealous with yours. They were supposed to be there to take the weight off your shoulders, but you were stubborn enough to refuse to put any more work than necessary on theirs.
Your heels clacked against the tile flooring of the building when the door shut behind you, and you heard Bucky come up behind you again. His metal arm whirred under his coat, and the sound instinctively sent a shiver down your spine. As soothing as the soft noise was, there were times it was…. You sucked in a quiet breath, shoving away all the times he'd actually let you see it.
Nine times out of ten, it was covered in one way or another. Those other rare moments, he was changing out of a shirt with spilled coffee, a cracked door or curtain on a plane or a quick change in the back of a car before you arrived somewhere important gave you a glimpse. He'd never said anything about it, but when you caught the shiny silver metal, you rudely found your gaze lingering before you'd jerked it away.
"It's fine," was all he'd said when he caught you the first time.
Or…maybe he'd noticed before then, but that time had simply been the most obvious, and it'd warranted a response. It had been in the car, and you were elbow to elbow. You…also weren't the only one caught looking. The driver was the only one who had flashed a quick look before continuing to focus on their task at hand. Your assistants and the other security detail had been less subtle and less shameful about it.
Bucky did look good in the white undershirt he wore beneath it. And there was more than simply a flash of shiny metal to draw attention–his shirts and jackets hid the hard muscles almost too well. You…might've taken a second look after he'd said it was fine. But it wasn't at the arm that you'd seen lift suitcases and trunks that others could hardly carry with two people, let alone on their own like he did.
Your eyes might've snagged on his once or twice when you drew your eyes over the ridges of his muscles. And his fingers as he deftly pulled his shirt on and started on the buttons. And you might've had to quickly look away as your cheeks burned. But at the least the others had taken the attention off of you with a shamelessly whispered damn under their breath, and Bucky had a small smile. A tinge of pink touched his cheeks as he pulled his coat back on, and he went to look out the window.
Your eyes locked for a second as you instinctively peered back at him when he came up behind you. His fingers brushed your arm again as he saddled up beside you. It was a brief second of recognition that he was still there and you were still there, and then his hand fell, and his eyes were glancing around the room.
Your heart stuttered a little in betrayal when his fingers lingered on their drag down, pulling another small shiver and a moment of goosebumps on your skin before they lost contact. In a desperate attempt to rectify your other, far more important conundrum, you quickly tried to find a bathroom. Except…you hadn't stopped walking. You were running later than you should've been, and just as you caught where there might've been a restroom, there was the ding of an elevator, and you were rushed inside.
Oh, no.
Your breath came quicker as you stepped back against the cool metal wall, shoulder to shoulder with Bucky, your assistants talking about half a dozen ideas for the fundraiser. Some you'd worked on together, some they came up with themselves. You had a packet full of them that you'd already looked over late into the night last night, and you tuned out the details you already knew. You stared up at the ceiling, heart thundering, hands squeezing the handles on your bag, and prayed you could slip into the bathroom on the upper floor.
Please.
You tapped your foot a few times before catching yourself. When you brought your eyes down from the ceiling as the elevator got closer to your destination, goddamn Bucky was looking at you again. He has his chin down and a curious look subdued on his face, but it was there. You knew that slight brow furrow, except normally, it was dedicated to someone else.
"I'm fine," you said again, unprompted.
Yeah. Bucky didn't believe you. He narrowed his eyes just a little bit. His hands resting on the metal railing behind you tapped a rhythm that almost mocked how fast your heart was beating. Your throat felt dry when he kept his gaze glued to you. Almost like he was trying to draw the words out of you without saying a damn thing.
Bastard.
There was a ding, and you started to step forward before they even fully opened.
He could express so much without saying a damn word. It was annoying.
You were fine. You definitely weren't thinking about how the bullet sat inside you in the cruelest of cruel ways. Sans anything actually painful, of course. The problem was, every step you took, every attempt to ignore it, every desperate, tiny shift to make sure it wasn't obvious that you had something inside you–it just made it worse. It might not have been on, but it was still a decently sized toy that threatened to rub against all the right places.
You rounded a corner, hands fidgeting with your purse, eyes glued to the fucking wall because where was it? You tried not to listen to Bucky's close steps behind you as he did his job–trailing you to keep you safe. But you could feel his eyes continually coming back to you. And that…that was actually making it worse.
If the situation weren't so dire in not causing a ridiculous scandal, you might've enjoyed the shiver of exhilaration that threatened to slip down your spine every time he looked at you. Yes, it made your cunt flutter knowing he was looking at you while you had a toy in it. Yes, you were realizing new things about yourself amidst the utter panic and anxiety of getting caught. And yes, you were trying desperately to ignore those because they were just making the situation worse.
You could analyze those horribly timed bodily reactions later.
You caught a glimpse of the familiar bathroom signs just down the hall from the conference room and–
Out of order.
You nearly whined. You actually tripped over your own feet when you saw them. Your heels snagged on the slightest lip in the hardwood flooring, and you stumbled, one hand going out for the wall to catch yourself as dread set in. Instead of meeting the wall, you felt something warm on your waist. Something warm and something contrastingly cold, that–another utter betrayal of your body again. Bucky caught your waist and righted you with an embarrassing amount of ease, and you felt your eyes widen as you looked over his arms. How strong was he?
"Woah, you okay?" Rosanna–one of your wonderfully sweet assistants asked.
You actually preferred that to Bucky's silent treatment as he righted you, his fingers giving you a horribly hypnotic press before you were left not feeling them. And they…they ever so slightly dipped lower to graze the tops of your hips before he simply had one hand on your back, pushing you forward.
Oh. You'd stopped walking.
"Yeah, yes. Sorry," you sputtered. "My shoe just caught. I'm fine."
Liar. Bucky's hand twitched on your back, and you almost felt like you could hear him say the word. Like he had any fucking idea what was going on. You almost considered throwing a glare at him, but the panic and the dread were back. Because you couldn't turn around and go back to the lobby to use the bathroom by that point. You were at the doors of the conference room, and turning around to suddenly announce that you needed to powder your nose–or some other ridiculous euphemism–was rude, considering it wouldn't be a simple two-minute trip.
Damn it. You almost cried.
It wasn't that big of a deal. You sucked in a slow breath as you went toward the conference room. Over a dozen other people occupied the space already between other important faces, their assistants, their security, and then your own. Familiar faces were greeted, pleasantries were exchanged, and food and snacks were passed out on dainty plates to pick from during what would surely be a torturous time for you.
No, it wouldn't be that bad. You just had to take your mind off of it. You had to–
Motherfucker.
Your breath hitched as you plopped a little too hard in your chair. Even the cushioning did nothing to stop the shift of the toy inside you, and you felt heat rush over yourself. From your cheeks all the way down to where you clenched involuntarily around the toy. Rosanna and your other assistant, Decklan, went right into business professional mode, seating themselves around you and pulling out the necessary paperwork, notes, and project information. And you…stalled out for a second. Entirely. Just closed your eyes and took a deep breath that you hoped looked like just a sleep-deprived person preparing for a long meeting.
And you felt Bucky's eyes on you again as you reluctantly turned in your chair to pluck up your bag. But bending over…. You jolted as the toy rubbed all the right places, and your fingers twitched before you were able to close them around the leather handles. The slight weight of the bag was a betrayal in itself, making you clench as you lifted it, and there went your legs. You couldn't do a damn thing besides cross them as you tried to steady yourself. Except the position added pressure to your clit, and the sudden contact was like fuel to a fire you were trying to douse.
It sent a rush of dampness against your underwear that you could risk there. In the car, fine. You could make up some shitty excuse and face any embarrassment around your team. But around everyone else in the boardroom? Fuck, no.
You tried to will yourself to not focus on the toy, but then you flipped the flap of your bag open, and there was the remote. Bright and pink. Please, fuck. No. You'd never been more thankful that everyone seemed to be doing their own thing as you tried your best to maneuver around the remote to get what you needed. It was awkward. It was stiff. And you silently prayed nobody standing near the back wall was able to look over your shoulder and see the obnoxious thing. There was no chance in hell you could hide what it was. Maybe you could get away with saying it was accidentally thrown in there, sparing yourself the further humiliation, but it was still there.
Didn't matter the levels of kinky sex every person in that room had or didn't have. There was no avoiding the awkwardness of having a remote to a wireless bullet vibrator in your bag. And maybe it'd just be a joke here or there, but still. You…. Fuck. You were desperately trying to not embarrass yourself.
You frantically tucked your bag away, setting it a little too hard on the floor, and just as everyone settled in to begin, you realized your mistake too late. Realized it way too late. As in, right when hands clapped together and the meeting began at the exact time as your bag hit the floor, and the remote you should've put in a small pocket inside bounced around with pens, pencils, feminine products, a notebook, a book, and a phone and tablet charger.
You choked on your next breath when the toy whirred to life.
Fuck.
You went so still that you couldn't breathe. Panic and mortification hit you like a truck, and you had a call to make. Tears damn near struck your eyes as you flicked your gaze around, looking to see if all attention had suddenly flown to you, but…. Nothing. Nobody even asked if anyone's phone was vibrating. There was nothing. Not even your assistants looked at you. They had their eyes up on the person standing in front of a projector screen, talking about the upcoming fundraiser.
You…. You glanced down at your lap as your legs pressed harder together and then moved further down to find your bag.
Nobody could hear it?
You almost whined. Almost. But you hadn't even taken your next breath yet; there was no oxygen to produce any sounds as you shifted back in your chair, trying to adjust how the toy was currently pressing against your g-spot. Hadn't helped. But even with your little movement, nobody looked at you.
Fucking…. They couldn't hear it. It was the only saving grace to your horrid situation. But you had to turn the toy off. It was already torture on your g-spot, and you were gradually feeling those betraying ripples of pleasure that you shouldn't have been having there. Because what the fuck? You squeezed the pen you held in your hand so hard, you actually wondered if you'd break it.
You had to turn the toy off.
Breathe. You nodded along to something said–you vaguely agreed with it, but you hardly cared. You could give input when you weren't feeling your cunt flutter around a toy while you were surrounded by two dozen people. Just…breathe. You nodded again, humming out some soft sound to show that you were listening–just as the rest of the group did–and tried to shift in your seat again.
You could grab a different pen from your bag. That was all you had to do. Reach into your bag, shuffle around in there for a second, get the remote and turn the toy off, then pull back out with the pen. It was easy. It was fine. You could do it.
You leaned to reach for your bag on the floor, and the sudden position change was agonizing. You felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through you as the toy shifted, downright abusing your g-spot. Holy fuck. You could've climaxed. No, in that position, after cockwarming the toy for over half an hour, after working yourself up to that earlier that morning–holy fuck. No. Your fingers twitched on the top of your bag, and fuck whatever you'd decided to do with any makeup that morning; you dug your teeth hard into your bottom lip as you clenched your jaw.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck–
Your hand trembled, and your chest moved a little too fast as you desperately tried to do two things at once. Keep your calm as your orgasm inched closer unforgivingly and frantically get to the remote without making a scene.
Please. Please.
You thumbed through the bag to find it, uncaring that people were talking about theme ideas and marketing tactics. Your assistants said something, but you didn't hear it as your fingers closed around a pen, then some chapstick, then there. Your cunt fluttered rather cruelly as your climax teetered right to the edge. You shuddered out a silent breath as you were so fucking grateful you'd gotten a seat at the end of the table, your thumb pressing down and making the quietest clicking noise on the button.
You nearly deflated when the toy turned off. You prayed silently as you grabbed a different pen, hoping nobody would be looking at you when you sat up. Hoping nobody had noticed. Hoping and praying and damn near begging whatever divine entity might've been listening to spare you.
"Any thoughts, (Y/N)?"
Your blood ran cold as you sat up straighter, every part of you dripping with some mix of dread, denial from your climax, and anxiety. All eyes blinked at you, and you felt like shrinking in on yourself for one second. Two seconds. Then three until Rosanna flicked her eyes to the screen up front where Old Hollywood was written in big letters next to theme.
Motherfucker.
"Oh, I think it's a fine idea," you said, pulling the words out of your fucking ass as you tried to keep a steady voice. "It's vague enough to allow a vast dress code and could make for an interesting marketing campaign while advertising."
As generic of a statement as you could fucking get, but it was all you could muster then and there. But as heat flooded your cheeks and your heart thundered away so loud that you worried they'd hear it, it seemed to take all eyes off of you. And back to the meeting it went.
Holy fuck.
You physically deflated back, both hands squeezed at the armrests of the chair as you tried and failed to uncross your legs. Wet. You were so fucking wet. You wanted to die. You wanted to cum, too–a horribly betraying feeling that was. Breathe. You sucked in a breath that was a little louder than intended, but people were beginning to munch away at snacks, drinking coffee, water, and juice. The sound, thankfully, went unnoticed as anything other than a simple breath.
Fuck.
You swallowed hard and reached for the pen you'd plucked from your bag.
Please, let it be a short meeting. You wrote down notes as you did your best to pay attention. Please. You'd never been so desperate to get out of an important meeting before, and the damp feeling between your legs as they toy nudged inside you with every little movement wasn't fucking helping.
An hour and a half.
Your breath came shakily after a fucking hour and a half passed before the meeting was called. Trembling and stiff, you stood. Shook hands. Smiled. Prayed that your small glance down at your chair to check if you'd soaked through your dress wasn't at all noticeable. Bit back a whine as you bent down to pluck up your bag, feeling your underwear press against yourself as the toy shifted inside you.
And despite wanting to absolutely rush out of there to get to the bathroom, freeing yourself of the toy you'd been cockwarming for so long, you waited. You took your time packing up so you wouldn't have to ride an elevator with anyone else there. Made sure to go through your bag, organizing it and doing your best to keep the remote out of sight as you moved items around. Even went so far as to move the remote into a more secure pocket, quickly fiddling with the back to try and get the batteries out just in case, while nobody's eyes were currently on you and–
A warm brush of familiar fingers hit your elbow. Rough and light, you actually jumped. Full on jolted, letting go of the remote and taking a step back from the table. Motherfucker. You tried to laugh, but your breath came out a little too staccato, and you put a hand over your heart. Every rapid beat made your cheeks heat.
It wasn't helping that Bucky put his other hand flat against your back.
He had a brow cocked as you cleared your throat, idly trying to fix your necklace since you already had your hand there.
"Didn't mean to scare you," he said softly; a confused yet amused expression brought a smile to his face that…that was unfair in itself. He had such a nice smile.
"It's fine."
You waved a hand and stepped back toward the table. You were saying that a lot that morning. And you shook your head, forgoing the battery removal in the remote and simply reaching to close your bag. Rosanna and Decklan were already heading toward the door, stopping to top off some to-go cups with coffee on their way.
Fuck. You stopped short, catching a glimpse of the little booklet that'd been passed out for everyone to go over. Bucky got to it first, second-hand nature of his desire to help, and he plucked it up for you. His hand was still on your lower back when he dropped it into your bag for you. It was smooth movement, but the booklet was heavy.
Heavy enough.
The world was cruel.
You should've tried harder to take the batteries out of the remote.
Whatever Bucky said next, you just straight up didn't hear it. His mouth moved and you heard the sound of his voice, but the actual contents? Nothing. You felt the dull vibrations kick into gear as you went still, the toy rocking and rubbing against all the sensitive places again.
Oh, no.
Your cunt clenched, and you took an involuntary step forward, instinctively reaching for your bag, but Bucky had already closed it. He'd already grabbed it. Gentlemanly bastard. He held it by his side as his hand slid up your back.
"(Y/N)," he started, curiosity and almost concern found his voice.
And you weighed your options. Looking up into the pretty blue eyes trying to psychoanalyze your awkward reaction to whatever was going on with you, you made the executive decision to not reach for your bag. There wasn't a chance in hell you could look him in the eye and tell him you needed your bag because you had a remote vibrator going off inside you.
Fuck that.
"Don't we have a flight to catch?" you blurted.
Oh, you wanted to roll up and die. Your voice was strained and a little too breathy. And walking…. Your steps were a little more awkward as you did your best to strut around him, keeping your head as high as you could get it while the toy went off far too aggressively inside you. The kind of aggressive that if you closed your eyes and gave it a little bit of focus, you'd find yourself climaxing with relative ease.
You cleared your throat as you sped toward the elevators, leaving the three people on your team behind, hands pushing down on your skirt as you felt yourself start to gush over the toy. Fuck. You pressed the button three times as if that'd make the elevator return faster. Heat pummeled you in so many different ways, you had to pay close attention to your breathing otherwise you'd begin to pant.
Collect yourself. You shifted your weight around as the toy basically stroked and taunted your g-spot. You felt yourself get closer. Closer.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?" Bucky asked.
"Jesus, Barnes." You jumped again, taking a staggering step away from where he smelled so fucking good and his warm arm pressed against yours. "You have to learn to walk a little louder around me."
He pushed his hand through his hair, eyes up on the elevator numbers getting closer and closer to your floor. Not fast enough.
"Noted."
His fingers shifted their grip on your handbag as he held it by his side, leaving you to eye it with a look that was probably a little too longing, but you were starting to really tremble.
Rosanna and Decklan were in the middle of discussing the upcoming flight you had to make in a few hours, excited to fly. Much more excited than you were.
You felt your thighs get sticky as you tried to adjust your stance again–it wasn't working.
"Should I ask again, or are you going to deflect my question again?" Bucky asked.
Your heart thundered and your breath caught, but the elevator dinged and the doors suddenly opened. You forced yourself to walk as normally as you could as you stepped inside. He followed, his hand finally leaving your back. Decklan and Rosanna followed in next, continuing their conversation as they stood in front of you two.
"I…just don't feel great," you settled on saying, murmuring the words under your breath as you kept your eyes glued to the dropping numbers.
You squeezed the metal bar behind you as hard as you possibly could, trying to fight the torment inside you. The toy rocked and shook and pressed against your sweet spot so perfectly. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, willing the pleasure to just still for a second. Just one moment. And you felt your shoulders push forward a little as your back bowed. So close.
You'd never been so desperate to not cum before.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You couldn't hold it. You could stave it off. You couldn't–
The elevator lurched a little harder than anticipated, and you all staggered before the doors opened. Something must've gone wrong in the process, but the doors were open, and the jostling must've done enough to spare you. Bucky instinctively put a hand on your shoulder as the door opened, and your bag must've hit his leg or something. There was enough movement to jostle the inside of the bag, and the toy managed to not shut off, but the vibrations lowered.
A fucking miracle compared to what was about to happen.
Not ideal, not perfect–but you could actually catch your breath like that. You could actually fight off your climax when the vibrations were barely there, and you managed to walk out behind the slightly freaked Rosanna and Decklan.
Bucky's hand didn't leave you as you walked out of the elevator. It changed from a steadying hold on your shoulder into a light grip around your bicep, keeping you closer than you needed to be, but he was always one to go protective over the slightest thing. A tire blew on your driver's car once, and when he wasn't the one changing it–his desire since the driver had been a man in his seventies–he'd been at your side, making sure you were within eyesight, earshot, and close enough that he could reach out and basically touch you. It'd helped that you'd helped him by handing him the necessary tools, maybe taking that rare opportunity to see him shrug his jacket off and roll up his sleeves.
But it was how he was raised.
It was just part of him.
He bled protectiveness, hence one of his selling points for the job.
Except sometimes he got too protective. Like then, his eyes shooting around the room just in case. You'd never been physically attacked before, and the protection was mostly meant to keep any too-eager parties away from you and those with you, but Bucky had always been that extra level of careful.
So careful that before you could even protest beyond a quiet oh, you were out of the building. The bathroom had been a glimpse–a hopeful, fleeting glimpse. Your cunt fluttered around the toy involuntarily as the interior lighting turned to exterior, and there you were. Outside. Being whisked away to sit in the far back of an SUV, your driver greeting the four of you as you climbed in.
And you clenched your jaw hard as you sat back, feeling the new position that put the toy in. Even with such small vibrations, as the car kicked it into gear and you started the hour-long drive to the airport, you sank back with dread filling you.
Well…at least maybe back there….
You eyed your bag sitting on the floor in front of Bucky's feet. He was too tall to sit in the back. The middle row of seats would've fit him far better, but he had a thing about being too far from you. Normally, there wouldn't have been too much of a complaint there, except you wanted him far from you while you dealt with the toy whirring inside you. You couldn't even withstand the curious look he gave you when he saw you eyeing your back.
Those blue eyes were too damn good at being silently mysterious. They were even better at seeming to pick you apart no matter how silent you were.
Your gazes locked just as the car went over a particularly large pothole, and hell was out to get you. Hell might as well have dragged you down into its pits to torture you. The entire car jostled. Including the toy. Including you. Including the remote.
The vibration speed kicked up.
Oh, fuck. Your thighs pressed together too noticeably. You sucked in a breath that would've been quiet enough if Bucky hadn't been looking right at you, and you felt panic rocket through you when he cocked one brow. You pressed back in your seat to try and pretend that it hadn't happened, but when your eyes tore away from his steely blue ones, you ended up looking at your bag again.
Fuck.
The toy pressed against your sweet spot like it was on a mission to make you cum. Like someone had whispered all your dirty secrets to it, and it was using them against you to coax a throbbing, aching, gushing orgasm from you.
You felt your core tense hard as you jerked your attention away from Bucky–like that'd help. Your teeth were sharp as they dug into your bottom lip, hoping that you could stave the climax off. It was only an hour. You could withstand that, couldn't you?
You involuntarily squirmed in your seat. It pushed your bottoms up, pressed your underwear harder against where the toy was barely poking out from inside you, and brought a new sensation to it. With the seats connecting in the back, you craved death when you brought a hand down to grasp the edge of the seat with a vice grip, and your hand brushed Bucky's.
It was just pinky to pinky, but you couldn't pull away. The only thing holding you together was that grip, and Bucky…didn't move either. Cruel fate–fuck. You clenched your jaw hard as the side of Bucky's hand met yours, and you actually considered grabbing onto it, jerking him closer, and then spilling it all in his ear.
But how the fuck would he look at you after that?
There was no coming back from that.
Was there any chance of coming back from any of this?
How well could you play any of this up as something else? A stomach bug? You could tell him you were just horribly nauseous, and when you finally got to the airport, you'd rush into the bathroom to pretend to vomit, only to free yourself of the torment inside you.
You…you could play that up, couldn't you?
The car jostled again, and you watched from the corner of your eye as the bag moved again. The…the remote did something. You weren't sure what, but the vibrations died down and the rhythm changed inside you. An unsteady beat of slow to fast, then a strong hold of the low vibrations before it paused for a beat. Then it repeated.
Holy hell.
You didn't entirely relax, but it was much the same as earlier. That uneven rhythm was much more bearable than the rest. You could handle that compared to the unyielding vibrations you'd had prior. Still sensitive, still aching, still wet and fluttering–but you could swallow hard and stare out the window.
You could pretend to act like there wasn't something edging you inside your cunt when it was like that.
Still, neither you nor Bucky moved your hands.
And you tortured yourself with glances at the clock every few minutes as the toy continued to whir away inside you. Merciless, yet only gradually growing unbearable. And for a solid fucking hour, you sat in your seat, legs pressing together, cunt leaking as the toy vibrated inside you, getting more and more sensitive as your climax stayed permanently out of reach. Not out of sight. It was there. It was like it was hanging right in front of you, a carrot dangling in front of a horse, but you couldn't reach it.
On the one hand–great. You didn't want to climax in a car full of your employees.
On the other hand–holy fuck. You were trembling, a little sweaty, unable to focus on the semi-important conversation Decklan and Rosanna were having. Bucky grunted or hummed in response when he was asked unimportant questions, but you were forced to actually speak words. Which was damn near impossible.
"Sorry, I'm just feeling a little…." You waved a hand at yourself when Rosanna asked if you were feeling okay. You looked a little off. "Queasy. I don't think breakfast earlier sat well with me."
You put a hand over your stomach for extra effect.
Bucky watched you carefully. You…involuntarily squirmed in your seat.
"Let's just get you on the jet then," Bucky said as the car fucking finally pulled up to the airstrip. "Let you lay down."
Fuck that. What you'd wanted was a bathroom. Your hand finally left its position beside his on the cushioned bench in the back row of the SUV when the car was in park. You felt how sticky your thighs were, and that embarrassment and dread came back tenfold. Had you soaked through your dress? You tried to take a glance back at your seat to see. Tried to do anything that might give you a hint, but Bucky was behind you. And he had his hand on your arm, already plucking up your suitcase and his duffle, pushing you toward the jet you'd pulled up directly toward.
They were still doing checks and fueling, but the stairs were loaded so you could board. An interior bathroom would've been preferred, but a bathroom was a bathroom, and you were almost sprinting to get inside. You had to wait for Bucky to check it first. You never denied him the extra safety checks when it put him at ease. Not that you expected someone to be able to sneak onto a jet without being seen when there were so many people out on the grounds there, but still. Him being at ease put you at ease.
Except just right then and there.
You could actually feel yourself dripping down your thighs, and the only saving grace was that you actively held your handbag behind you to cover any potentially embarrassing damp spots that'd soaked through during the drive.
Wow. You wanted to curl up in a ball and die.
You just needed to get the toy out, change, and everything would be fine. It'd be fucking fine. And you had a change of clothes you could access in your suitcase once you boarded. You'd be fucking fine.
Bucky waved everyone on, and you were in torture taking the steps up. Decklan and Rosanna went over to get comfortable in some plush chairs with a table between them, unpacking to relax in the extra time before taking off. And you went directly to the back of the plane where a curtain blocked off a separate section at the back for the bathroom and any flight attendant that you could opt to join you on your flights. If one was slated, they weren't there yet.
Bucky was, though. He was setting your suitcase and his duffle aside in a back cubby when you stepped through the curtain, eager to get your bag open to at least turn the toy off. Except there he was. Why?
You gave him a tight smile and started to go toward the bathroom door positioned just behind him. He was mid-shrugging his coat off as you passed, and you might've stolen an extra look at how the white shirt moved around those hidden muscles.
"Still feeling queasy?" he asked, giving you a curious look over his shoulder as he hung the dark jacket up on a provided hanger. You stopped, hand on the door to the bathroom, heart pounding.
"Yes."
You jerked the handle back as he slid both hands into his pockets and gave you an expectant look. That look on him was merciless. He'd managed to roll his sleeves up just a little, giving way to that flash of metal and skin before his hands disappeared into his pockets. And the broad spread of his shoulders with the little bit of longer dark hair falling in his eye? He tilted his head forward just a little, and his look changed just enough with a knowing, wry smile that made your cunt clench in a cruel, cruel way.
You held his gaze for a second longer. He held yours.
"You sure it's just queasy?" he asked, and then he was taking a step toward you.
You were a hostage to yourself when you couldn't bring yourself to move. Bucky lifted his hand from his pocket, and pressed the back of it against your forehead. You knew you were a little sweaty, and you were actively trembling as the toy rocked inside you. Yet you merely held your breath as he sauntered up to take your temperature.
"You don't feel warm."
Fuck that. You were burning from the inside out. Molten. About to fucking explode.
"Just…bad food, I think," you breathed, getting a sharp breath of him on it when he stood that close. "I'm just…."
You motioned back toward the bathroom door, slowly turning until you were able to take a step inside. But a hand on your arm stopped you. You were tugged back just a bit before you felt something warm slip into your free hand. Something small. Something plastic.
Humiliation mixed with mortification as you felt Bucky's chest hit your back right as you peered down. His hand engulfed yours as he tucked the little remote into it, and you could feel his breath against your neck as your own stuttered.
"Just tell me next time," he said, his voice so quiet and so…rough….
Holy fuck.
Your cheeks were on fire.
His hand also didn't fall away from yours. His thumb actually stayed over yours as he moved it to do the obvious. But you were frozen a little stiff as you tried to collect yourself. Hard to do with the toy whirring inside you, but even harder when you were trying to figure out how to compose yourself and fix this horrifyingly embarrassing moment.
You just…swallowed hard.
Bucky didn't step back.
"It turned on during the meeting, didn't it?" he asked, his voice even quieter than before.
Decklan and Rosanna were still laughing away up front. Thankfully, the thin velvet curtain kept your embarrassment hidden from them. Only so long as you were utterly silent. You had no clue how sound carried from you to them.
But that was fine because you couldn't do a damn thing besides simply nodding your head once. Stiffly. A shaky breath came next as your thumb traced over the circle that, if held, would turn it off.
Reluctantly, as you flicked your eyes over in the direction of the curtain and back down to the remote, you nodded again. You never knew you could be more mortified than you were then. Yet you felt compelled to speak.
"And in the elevator." You closed your eyes. "And the car."
There was a pause when your voice came out in a hoarse, awkward whisper. And…and you felt Bucky's breath catch. The slightest inhale, but it was there. It caught like a snagging thread, and his chest just barely gave way to the stuttering movement.
"I figured." His hand twitched atop yours. "I swiped it when you got out of the car."
Oh, god. You dared a glance back at him, teeth digging into your bottom lip as your eyes locked. He was…so close. And the toy was still on. Why hadn't you turned it off yet? You caught that steely blue glare of his only for a moment before your eyes dipped lower. His jaw was set tight, and his throat bobbed with a swallow.
"And you didn't turn it off?" you asked, trying to sound offended. Trying to sound like the boss you were supposed to be. But it was hard. You were trembling still, the toy keeping that low rhythmic movement inside you, working you still. Closer to that orgasm that it kept out of reach. "Because…?"
Bucky's hand was a warm grasp on your hip, his fingers digging in a little more while his eyes drifted not from you, but simply lower. They seemed to follow the curve of your cheek, your jaw, down over your neck, and to where your dress felt too tight around your chest and shoulders. And the rest of your upper body.
Your heart started to beat uncontrollably when his hand skated up a little higher on your waist.
"Would you accept the answer that I didn't know how?"
His eyes were slow when they made their way back to yours. And his hand…it closed a little more around yours, moving your thumb over the buttons there. He stepped a little closer, only tilting his head for a moment to do the same as you–listening to where everyone was. You couldn't keep up, though–not with how your head was swimming. Not when he had almost his entire front pressed to your back, hidden by a mere curtain.
Your cunt fluttered when he moved, his mouth coming closer to your ear. His hands twitched again as you felt his breath hit the sensitive skin.
"I try to rectify situations, (Y/N)," he said softly. "Not worsen." He put a little bit of pressure down on your thumb, and you moved with it. You already knew what was going to happen. You knew what to steady yourself for, but even still. When your thumb pressed the button, you jolted when the toy grew stronger. "I didn't want to do that."
You staggered one step further into the bathroom, and Bucky followed. His grip stayed on you as your back arched. Half in and half out of the bathroom, Bucky became what should've been the bathroom door. His mouth brushed across your neck as you used him for support, leaning your entire weight against him, eyes fluttering shut, and knees buckling.
The vibrations were not kind inside you. The toy rocked and moved and nudged all the overstimulated places that threw you right back into the chaos of desire. For that release you'd spent the last few hours without. All the nerves, all the anxiety, all the embarrassment.
Bucky wrapped an arm around your midsection to keep you upright, and you felt his lips moving against your jaw as he spoke.
"Do you want me to turn it off?" he asked. He sounded genuine, too. There was a rough edge to his voice that was like pure velvet, and you just felt yourself bite back a necessary moan just at the sound of it.
The feel of his arm around you, the whirring of the metal beneath the white shirt, the cool pushing through to steam against your body heat…. Fuck. Was that his heart you felt racing, or were you just struggling to keep up with your own? His breaths came steadier than yours, but still quickly. You felt them with every move of his chest, and every exhale against your neck. The bottom of your dress was pulled up in the scramble, caught beneath his harsh hold, but you had a hard time finding the ability to care too much when the lean back against him pressed the toy right where you needed it.
Fuck it.
Just fuck it.
You shook your head no, knowing you'd already gone far past anything you'd ever return to with Bucky. Your hands fell, and you felt him quickly catch the remote before it bounced on the floor. A ragged breath seemed to leave the both of you just out of sync as you grabbed onto his arm hard, shaking as the toy pushed you closer and closer to that point.
You felt yourself dripping down your thighs again.
"Just…I need this. Please. I really fucking need this."
You pressed your head back, throwing one hand up subconsciously. You'd touched his hair before. He'd let you fix it before fundraisers and galas and after it was drenched by rain. He even let you braid it a few times when boredom took over on long flights and car rides. But
But when you reached back and threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, curling the dark strands around them, that was the first time you'd ever done that. Especially like this. Especially when–
Something just short of a groan slipped from his lips, and you felt them graze against your neck. His arm held you tighter against him like it was almost subconscious, and he walked you another step into the bathroom, doing all the work for you.
"Buck–"
The remote was a quiet clatter on the counter as you heard the bathroom door shut. It wasn't a soft or smooth sound, and in the second you registered it, your hips moving humiliatingly to try and grind on something that wasn't there, Bucky moved again. His hand was warm against your jaw as he turned your head.
He tasted like mint gum.
Oh.
Your head spun. Your head spun and your body trembled and you finally got a taste of those lips you'd been looking at for months. Fucking cruel, torturous months. He was always there. You were touching each other more often than not. He was always at your side. For fuck's sake. He knelt beside you when you were sick with the flu and rubbed your back when he found you kneeling in front of the toilet, hardly able to stand up.
Fuck.
He seemed far more hesitant than you despite the current circumstances. The kiss was slow and chaste as he guided his fingers down along your throat in the lightest touch. The sigh that it pulled from you was more obscene than the way you gripped his arm as the toy pushed you closer to your climax. You shuddered underneath the tender touch, eyes half-lidded as you looked up at him, the kiss breaking for a mere moment as you gasped for a breath.
And in the second it took for your eyes to lock–in the second it took for the toy to press against that sweet spot just enough to make your back arch and your thighs tremble–Bucky was back on you. His tongue curled as your mouth parted with another subdued moan, letting it slip out as a gasp instead. There was the unbelievable taste of him as he cupped your jaw once more, and you felt like you were being tugged between relief and torture.
"James," you sputtered, tugging the sleeve of his shirt up higher as your climax got right there. "I'm…."
You just wanted a little more. Your clit ached for attention. It'd gone hours without any true contact, and you were going to lose it if you didn't give it just a little taste to push you over the edge. And you tried to keep an ear out for Decklan and Rosanna. You tried to close your eyes as you gasped for another deep breath, listening through the door, but your whole world was turning on its side as you felt your cunt clench around the toy.
You reminded yourself to give Bucky a raise when he moved. One hand came rather gently over your mouth while his lips pressed soft kisses to your neck. And down over your midsection, his other arm kept you pinned against him, letting you use him for support for your entire self, while it moved lower.
You thought you were going to explode when you saw him tug your dress the last little bit up that you'd needed. You yanked hard on his hair as his hand muffled a particularly lewd sound. Just seeing his hand there, just above your cunt…. Fuck. You caught a glimpse of your white underwear entirely soaked through. How your thighs were glistening and sticky. How your legs parted for his hand, even though it'd stopped.
"Please," you whined behind his hand.
Bucky was a patient man but never one to ignore an order from his boss.
The metal on his hand was only slightly warmer as it skated over you, and he didn't go underneath. For whatever reason, you hardly cared beyond the few seconds it took his fingers to brush your clit. That was it. You tugged harder on his hair, earning a groan from him that vibrated in his chest rather roughly, but only slipped out on a soft breath. His mouth trailed burning kisses still as his fingers worked a quickly-found rhythm over your clit, giving you a fucking show of how wantonly desperate you were. How awfully the toy had left you after hours of being stuck with it.
You felt his erection hard through his pants as he panted, and there was the faintest press of his hips forward as he stroked your clit faster. The metal dragged like fucking art over your soaked underwear, and that was it. That was all you had in you. Bucky was stroking your clit, controlling the toy inside you, and coaxing an orgasm out of you that'd been edged and neglected since that morning.
Every muscle in his body went hard as he held you flush against him, and he made a quiet shhh sound next to your ear before you burst. You choked on the sound that tried to slip out, hopefully stifled enough by Bucky's hand still over your mouth. But it was impossible to truly keep quiet. The pleasure that tore through you was almost unbearable.
Your knees gave out, and every nerve seemed to come alight in the best possible way. Your cunt fluttered around the toy, every ripple of pleasure getting coaxed out of you by the way it rocked inside of you; it pressed against your sweet spot with cruel precision, lending you to gush over it enough so that you felt yourself drip. It was a humiliating feeling, but it basically milked you of all you'd had built up. All you'd been denied.
And you'd wanted to scream.
Instead, you gave Bucky's hair a hard yank, fell against him, and sobbed softly into his palm as the pleasure pushed you to your brink.
Your hands only left him when it became too much. Coming down from your high, his fingers were stroking over your clit when it was far too swollen and sensitive. And the toy–holy fuck. You shoved one hand down to grab his wrist–his hand moving immediately–and your other went to the counter. Bucky moved with you, keeping you upright as his hand fell from your mouth as you scrambled to turn the toy off.
With a frantic press of the button, the toy finally stilled inside you.
And with Bucky still pressed against you, your bodies too warm and clothing wrinkled–wrinkled, ruined, and utterly wet, in your case–you both panted. Your quieted breaths filled the otherwise silent bathroom, giving way to the muted sounds of Decklan and Rosanna down the way. Just beyond that thin curtain.
And Bucky….
Oh, fuck.
There was a little mirror that gave away your expressions. Yours, fucked out, lustful, and vulnerable. And his, wild compared to the composure he normally had, a tenderness behind his eyes as yours locked, and…. And a draw that had you nowhere near complaining when his fingers twitched against where you'd shoved them on your inner thigh. They glided over where you'd left your skin wet and sticky.
You swallowed hard. His cock was still hard against you, and his cheeks were a light red. The long strands of hair you'd wrapped around your fingers were left wavy and messy, his pupils were blown, and his mouth as swollen as yours from the kiss. His chest heaved just as yours did, and you…you could feel his heart racing as you pressed into his hold.
"James," you started, voice weak on a whisper.
But you had no fucking clue what to say. There wasn't anything you'd practiced in all your years of being on the Earth of how to look someone in the eye after that. No idea what you were supposed to say to break the tension. You knew what you'd wanted to do if it was just the two of you. If he…if he was really as interested as his cock made him out to be.
But Rosanna and Decklan were out there. And a flight attendant could arrive on board at any moment. The pilot, too. And any workers coming to do last-minute checks. And he…he was Bucky. And you were you.
His fingers twitched against your inner thigh again, and you saw his eyes flick over your reflection. The raw emotion behind them almost had you slipping from his grasp and falling to your knees.
"I'll get you a change of clothes," he muttered. "Take your time…."
He took a few deep breaths as he peered down at the remote. His hand started to move against your thigh, and it passed over your cunt oh-so-very briefly on the way back up.
You almost grabbed it to keep it there.
"Take your time composing yourself." He blew out a long breath, very, very slowly righting himself and you. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. "I'll make sure they set out some ginger ale for your stomach."
His eyes glinted as he stepped back. His movements were as stiff as his cock, but that and the burning in his gaze gave him away. He turned you before he reached for the door, and you were too close again. One of his thighs went between your legs as he pressed you against the counter. The edge was freezing cold in your palms as you clutched it, hunching just a bit as you tried to compose yourself. But Bucky made that so fucking hard when he was right there like that. When he had his hands on your waist as he pointlessly fixed the dress you were about to strip out of. When he skimmed his hands over your sides, his thumbs caressing the bottom of your breasts for just a second on their way up to your jaw. He wiped the backs of his fingers beneath one of your eyes, and you saw a smudge of mascara left on his knuckle.
"Thank you," you muttered, but it had nothing to do with what he'd said.
You locked eyes as his fingers brushed along your jaw before his hands fell. His cock was still straining in his pants when his mouth curled into the faintest smile. His hands didn't make it all the way down. One stopped. One gave your chin a little pinch, and you found yourself melting as his eyes fell to your lips.
Do it.
You leaned into his touch as a second passed. Then another.
Your little lean was all it took, and Bucky gracious closed the gap, tugging up on your chin to guide you to him. Meeting halfway, the kiss was a slow, sweet, savoring moment that made the bathroom feel like its own separate entity. The curl of his tongue against yours, the soft gasp that slipped from your lips, the twitch of his fingers as they skated back along your jaw.
You were actively still recovering from your climax when Bucky pulled back, and yet your body had lurched into overdrive for more. To strip that shirt from him, yank his belt off, and steal away all the sweet sounds that might leave his mouth with a kiss as you rode him. You would've. You would've thrown caution to the wind right then and there if that was Bucky's prerogative.
But he was already stepping back, giving you one more lingering look.
He wiped his hand over the rough salt and pepper stubble going along his jaw, and his other reached back for the door. He got it on the first attempt, and nothing else was said as he paused, listening, waiting. And when the coast was clear, he gave you one last glimpse of him as he licked his lips, his eyes seeming glued to you, and he jerked the door open just enough so he could turn and slip out.
Holy fuck.
It shut tightly behind him, and you sank down onto the top of the toilet.
Holy….
You pawed for the remote to take the batteries out of the back, your hands shaking as you did so. All you could taste was him. All you could feel was him. All you could breathe was him. And you had to go survive a three-hour plane ride with him beside you. Agony in its own right, and even worse knowing he was surely nursing an erection that you…you were not going to stop thinking about for ages.
You peered at the door as you heard the soft sounds of your suitcase opening.
Fuck, Bucky.
You let out a shaky breath.
Three hours….
The jet wasn't going to get you to your next hotel nearly fast enough.
