Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Smut! Language!

"Sharing is caring. Now give me some of your fries."

I lunge across the couch towards Bucky's stash of fried potato sticks. Goddamn, he's too fast. His super soldier instincts kick in and he's holding the McDonald's container far out of my reach.

"Not so fast, doll. You said you didn't want anything when Wilson called for requests. If you're really that hungry, you should've asked for your own." Bucky's trying not to smirk at my pouting, downturned lips. He loves to annoy me, I swear.

"I wasn't hungry then. But now all I can smell is your food and I've changed my mind."

Again I try to crawl closer. I make it almost to his lap before he's jumping up onto the floor. For a terrifying moment I fear that I've crossed a line with my hand on his knee, but looking into his face with the wicked grin I can tell he's just continuing to mess with me. It makes my heart patter happily, despite the growl in my stomach.

"Come on, Buck!" I whine. "If Steve was here he'd share with me."

Bucky stuffs seven—seven!—fries in his mouth at once. Now he's just being wasteful. "But Steve's not here, darlin'. Just you and me." He wiggles those thick, dark eyebrows and then eats another. God, they smell so good.

"Unfortunately," I huff dramatically. I eyeball the man as he paces around the living room floor with the red cardboard container clutched in his metal fist. His long, thick legs move with lethargic purpose. His pretty blue eyes roam my face—just begging for some fun.

I don't know what Bucky's got up his red Henley sleeve, but I know it can't be good.

"Alright, doll. I'll make you a deal."

"A deal with the devil? I think not," I tease. I rise from the couch. Immediately his eyes drop to my wedged up skirt that's come up too far from my lounging position before. Blush warms my cheeks before I'm tugging it respectively back into place.

Bucky clears his throat. He walks closer until all that stands between us is the short, metal coffee table. "You can have the rest of them," he begins in that heavy voice, "As long as you can catch me."

I want to laugh. Catch him? He's a super soldier—I'm nothing more than one of Banner's brainy assistants. I don't even know how I got lucky enough to find a permanent spot on this team as a super-human specialist.

"Nice try, Bucky. But we both know that it's physically impossible for me to catch you."

My mouth goes dry when he winks. "Maybe I'll let you win."

"Highly unlikely."

Bucky takes two long steps backwards. He holds his arms out in open invitation. "What's the harm in trying, doll?" He smirks. He wiggles the French fry container in the air—the smell wafting closer. "Come on—you know you wanna."

I roll my eyes, and he knows he's won.

"The things I do for food..." I grunt to myself. Then I'm chasing Bucky out of the room. He really slacks in order to keep me close, but I think I surprise him a bit with my speed. Sure, I'm no Avenger, but I did get into college with a Track and Field scholarship.

I run after him—taking every turn and shortcut that he manages through the compound. People don't blink twice at us as we go roaring by. Every few moments Bucky will look back to me with a crooked grin and a laugh. I chortle and speed up.

Somehow, I end up following him to the roof. But when I pop out of that door at the top of the stairs, he's disappeared into thin air.

I stumble out into the brisk evening air. It's later now than I thought—it must be near eight PM. I'm panting, out of breath, and looking cluelessly all around for the man who's managed to drag me out into the cold air at such a late hour.

I hear a slight noise. Turning on my heel, I whirl towards the air conditioning vents. Sitting atop one of them is a slightly crinkled McDonald's fry cup. I quirk up an eyebrow and wander closer. I take the thing in my hand and smile to see that it's still halfway full. I take one out, meaning to eat it, when I realize he's still nowhere to be seen. I narrow my eyes out to the rolling hills across the field at the little bit of moonlight that comes from there.

I walk to the center of the roof. "Bucky?" I call. I chew on a now cold fry. It's not as good as I thought it'd be. Was it really worth the chase? Not if he isn't on the end of it, I think. "Where'd you go?"

An owl screams from somewhere beneath the roof. My head turns towards the noise, slightly startled, and then I'm surprised again when I feel a pair of hands gently riding on my hips from behind. The fries fall from my hand and scatter along the roof.

"Jesus Christ," I turn and laugh. I gently shove Bucky's chest in attempt to show him my irritation, not to push him away (because I very much like his hands on my hips, I've just discovered). "You scared me."

"Sorry doll." He smirks.

"No you're not," I laugh.

Bucky's head shakes, causing his long chestnut locks to sway lighter heavier than the breeze. "No, I'm not." Another wicked grin crosses his mouth before disappearing against the softness of my own lips. He's kissing me soft but with purpose as I stand there motionless like a stupid schoolgirl too afraid to kiss him back.

Bucky's pulling away before I can gather my thoughts enough to respond. Our eyes open at the same time, and I'm shocked at how bright blue those beautiful orbs of his truly are. We simply gaze at one another for a long time.

Neither of us says anything. We're both rather quiet individuals, and in this case it works to our benefit. Because the next thing I know we're grappling at each other for closeness. Our lips mold together like dancers—his tongue tasting slightly salty as it dips into my mouth to swipe against mine. I wrap his soft locks of hair into my fingers and tug.

When Bucky whimpers, I swear he's just destroyed me. I'm completely and utterly wrecked as his metal, ginger touches send waves of fiery shivers across my body. His fingertips dig into my hips and I'm stumbling against him. His muscular, flesh arm sweeps beneath me to lift me midair. My arms find a comfortable place around his shoulders where I can helplessly tug onto the back of his ruby colored shirt.

I shiver when he lets loose a deep, guttural moan.

Our kiss suddenly becomes desperate. Hunger drives us closer and harder together. Heat radiates from his taut muscles like his soul's charged with the flames of a forest fire. His fingers dig into my flesh—leaving little bruises that won't show until morning—and his teeth clash against mine. I'm breathless and shaking when he sets me atop the inactive, quiet AC filter.

I grab his wrist; the warm skinned one, and bring it towards my chest. I press his open palm on my breast over my thin shirt. I swallow his eager groans.

"Do you want this, Y/N?" he asks me. Damn, he sounds just as wrecked as I feel.

I nod eagerly. Bucky patiently responds, "Words, doll. I need to know you're not going to regret this."

"I want this," I quickly assure him. I slide closer on the slick metal of the unit until I can reach to wrap my legs around his waist. I hook my feet together back at the base of his spine and hope he won't break away. "I want you, Bucky."

Chuckling at my enthusiastic compliance, Bucky's fingers start to dig into my tender breast. I gasp and close my eyes—my face pressing into his sweaty neck. "Good. Because I've wanted to do this for so fucking long."

There's something utterly intoxicating about the way he speaks, smells, tastes. His voice is deep and lethargic with enough authority to send waves of blood towards my core and start my head spinning. His cologne is mainly the bitter draw of metal from the bionic arm, but also like the fabric softener he uses to make all of his Henley's so silky smooth. On his tongue I taste a bit of salt but mainly a flavor that I can only describe as completely Bucky—masculine, tender, and warm all at once.

My fingers pull out from the softness of his hair long enough to reach for the ends of my shirt. I tug it off and reveal myself to the cold and then am begging with my eyes for him to do the same. He chuckles, stepping far enough back to follow my silent command. Then we're kissing again with my fingers dancing down his bare torso and his reaching back to unhook my complex bra. He does it blind and with one hand—chucking it so far away that I wonder for a moment if it's fallen off the side of the building. But Bucky doesn't care. All he's concerned with now tastes every inch of my skin on his path down my jaw to my neck. He pecks and gnaws on every bit of sensitive flesh his lips can reach. I tighten my legs around his waist and slowly start to roll my hips into his. My skirt's spread apart and the roughness of his jeans is very noticeable through the thin lace of my panties. The whimper that bubbles out of my mouth is a combination of need and relief.

Bucky's chuckle startles me, but really gets me going. "Easy, baby. We'll get there." He plants a long, lethargic kiss to the top of my left breast. "I want to take my time ravishing you." Then his mouth closes around my firm nipple—his tongue swirling and teasing with kitten licks.

My head falls back and it takes everything in me not to moan.

Bucky's soft hand roams up my thigh. It squeezes and draws sweet shapes with his fingertips as he edges farther and farther past the hem of my flowy skirt. He toys teasingly with the tight elastic band of my panties—snapping it against my hip a few times before ultimately looking up at me with big doe eyes. He unattaches his lips from my breast, panting a bit. "Y/N?"

"Take them off."

Bucky nods, "Gladly."

His finger hooks into the lacy pink material. Then he's tugging them down my legs at the slowest, most painfully sinister rate I've ever seen a man move. I want to scream at him to hurry up, but I also know that his lethargic pace is helping to build up quite a bit of arousal in me that I've never felt before. No sooner has he thrown them away than his fingers are lingering on my high upper thigh just outside of where I need him to be. I whimper into his lips, which are now madly kissing my own, and try to move my hips closer to his touch. He only smirks and holds me still with that hefty metal arm.

"What do you want, baby?"

I swallow heavily. All I can sense is him—his smell, his heat, his taste. The reasonable part of my brain is gone. All I can think about is Bucky Barnes fucking me into the next dimension.

Bucky pauses in his assault of my lips for a moment. "You okay?" He looks genuinely concerned at my lack of response.

My fingers trail up and down his tight pecs. "I—I'm good." I swallow and nuzzle my cheek to his. I like the slight scratch of his stubble to my soft jaw. "I just really fucking want you inside of me."

Boy: does that man deliver.

It starts with a gentle thumb circling my clit—the nerves alight with arousal at his tender touch—then his long, lean finger is plunging into me. Whimpers leave my lips as I kiss him harder. My body's rocking into him at a pace that I wish he'd take, but he's going so fucking slow. I want him to wreck me. I tell myself to be patient, though, because I have a strong feeling that he's going to take me there soon.

It's not long before my predictions come true. My bare ass is perched halfway on the AC and Bucky's naked in front of me. His flesh hand has a tight grip on my jaw to keep my face in the angle that he likes while the other aids in keeping my leg draped around his waist.

"Ready?"

I nod before remembering that he'll want to hear my voice. "Yeah—yeah, I'm ready." In preparation for what's to come I bring my hands to pull on his hair. "Give it to me hard, James." I bite his lower lip and feel his gentle chuckle.

"Gladly, darlin'."

From the moment Bucky's thick, stiff cock rams into me, I know slow is no longer a part of his sexual vocabulary. Oh, he's played me like a violin—teasing me and dragging out the shivers until I was nearly begging, now completely destroying me with a skin-slapping, bruise-worthy pace. My head falls back and my body aches as it tries to adjust with his size and speed. But god, I wouldn't trade the pain for anything.

And if I thought this was hot enough on its own, he starts dirty talking me and I forget my own name. Oh lord: help me now. The first time he tells me how good I feel, I think I'm going to orgasm right there and then. But it's not until he pulls my leg onto his shoulder, ramming me harder, and says, "That's my pretty girl," do I moan for the first time in my life. A man's never brought me to such a low, desperate point, and it's like he knows it. And I love it.

I'm so close to coming. I can feel myself teetering on the edge; but Bucky's not ready.

"Bucky," I grip his shoulder and say his name a few times. There's sweat on his chest and dribbling down my forehead.

Bucky bites down on my neck. I whimper and pull his hair.

"Not yet, baby. Not yet."

Then he's flipping me around—my naked chest now flush to the cold, biting metal AC unit I once sat upon. His hearty hands take my waist and pull me to his will. Then his wet, thick member is gliding into me from behind: hitting me at every possible angle. He wants to go deeper with every thrust.

I close my eyes. I struggle to find something to hold onto. I resort to clawing at the metal grates of the AC. That tightening coil is my stomach is becoming impossible to restrain.

"Bucky, please. Please," I nearly cry.

Bucky draws a yelp out of me when he reaches down with that cold metal hand to twirl a digit around my clit. "Okay, doll."

Then I fucking lose it. I whimper his name, unable to make any noise other than a breathless gasp, and reach down to grab his hand. He keeps rocking into me with that steady, hard pace but the fingers below slow down until he can stop and let me hold his hand. I grip onto him with white knuckles as stars dance behind my eyelids.

I'm just coming down from my high when Bucky starts to stagger. He clutches my hand then pulls out of me at the very last second. He finishes on my bare ass. I can feel the warm, wet streams of his orgasm painting my cheeks. Streams of it dribble down the backs of my thighs.

Winded and worn out, my cheek presses to the cold metal unit. I struggle to calm down after what he's just done to me.

A smile erupts on my lips when I feel Bucky's hands rubbing up and down my back. He massages me slow and sweet. Then his mouth appears at the base of my neck at the top of my spine. He kisses me there, lovingly, and asks, "Are you okay?" It's strange to hear the same voice that I've been admiring all these months say something so intimate. I've dreamt of this for a long time.

I turn my cheek and he kisses me there. "I'm good. And you?"

Bucky chuckles. "Better than ever, baby."

I grin at the nickname.

Bucky helps me to my feet. He lifts me to sit down then gets to work with cleaning me up. He wipes every speck of mess away with his red Henley, all while I admire his shirtless physique in the moonlight.

"You really are beautiful," I gather the courage to tell him.

Bucky's hooded eyes flutter to meet mine. He doesn't say anything, only shaking his head a little bit in quiet denial, before going back to his silent task. His touch is gentle and almost dream-like as he wipes me clean. After he's done he helps me get back into my shirt and panties before dressing himself.

"Where's my bra?" I ask. I'm bent over to search for it in the dark.

Bucky gives my ass a firm slap. I squeal—popping back up.

"Not sure. But who cares?"

"I do! It was sixty bucks." I pout, making him chuckle.

He swings an arm over my shoulder—walking us back to the door that leads back downstairs. "Come on, darlin'. I'll find it for you later." His lips are on my temple as he whispers, "And for the record, you're the most beautiful thing on this damn planet, so don't think for a second that you're not."

Blush paints my cheeks, but I pretend like it's not there.

Bucky takes us to the elevator. We ride it all the way to the main floor. Before we can get off, I grab his hand. "Wait."

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Are we telling the others?"

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get the chance, the doors open and Captain America is standing on the other side. He and Sam are both there looking like they just came from a jog.

"Missing something, Y/N?" Sam smirks.

I'm confused until I see what it is that Steve is holding out towards me.

It's my fucking bra.

"Oh my god," I gasp. I snatch it up fast as if they could somehow unsee what they've just seen. My face is bright red, but Bucky's smirking like the smug bastard he is.

Steve looks to Bucky with a bit of scorn, but mainly pride. "Next time try not to fling her clothes off the roof, would ya? I'd appreciate not being assaulted by another piece of your girl's lingerie."

Bucky's metal arm wraps around my waist. "I'll keep that in mind, punk." Steve rolls his eyes and Sam chortles while they switch places with us in the elevator for the hall. When we're alone, Bucky turns to me with a smirk. "Well, darlin', looks like we don't have to tell anyone after all." He hooks both hands onto my hips before drawing me close. "And it's a damn good thing, too, because I want you all to myself." Bucky grins. "I don't plan on sharing you with anyone."