ostavil | don't touch that dial

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wanda

don't touch that dial

They're the two most terrifying people on the planet and wanted by several governments but they're playing house in the middle of nowhere and not a single person can tell. Bucky's used to being invisible and silent and he'd managed to hide out in Romania for longer than he should have been able to by living on cash only, working under the table, keeping to the shadows. This is different. This is a real life that he can have, out in the open, and nobody even thinks he's suspicious at all.

It's a very, very good thing that HYDRA no longer has control of Wanda Maximoff.

When they're out in public, he keeps his face away from cameras and his arm hidden; a hat and Wanda's tricks do the rest. He can take his time picking out food, plan meals, pretend to have the friendly banter that a husband and wife would have. It's nothing he's never had before and this kind of stability almost feels like he's stealing the life he was supposed to have after the war. There's some other version of him who died falling from that train and maybe it's that version that's getting a new lease on life now.

It's autumn and the leaves have started to turn, yellow like the sun and scarlet like Wanda's hair and there's a brisk wind that says there's gonna be a storm in a day or two. Rain or snow, he isn't sure, but it's Canada so it can go either way. He has his left arm slid into Wanda's to cover up that it doesn't hang naturally the same as his right does and nobody suspects a thing. Their neighbors aren't ever curious, there's no surveillance, there's nothing to worry about. It's a strange feeling but a good one.

"You know, if you can figure out how to explain it to my tiny soldier brain I would love to know how you managed to keep our house invisible from everyone else. Small words, though. I'm all brawn and no brains."

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"Do you think pleasure is only orgasms?"

She exhales softly and shakes her head. "You've given me a lot already, Bucky. You gave me a friend when I had no one, and you spend time with me and look after me even when it exasperates me," she smiles fondly. "I don't need you to do... that just because you had one with me. I don't think it should work that way."

Especially when it's already going to prove so difficult. She's not like the women he's been with or the type of woman he should be with. Wanda doesn't want Bucky to exert his energy chasing after something unattainable that will only make him feel bad about himself. She wishes he would take the out she gives him.

"No, I don't think it's only that," Bucky says. "But I don't think it's such an abnormal thing to want to please your partner, either, and that's all I want to do. It's not about me having one and you not having one. It's about me wanting to just..."

He falls quiet for a moment because this is the last thing he wants to argue about but it's gnawing at him that Wanda doesn't even seem to want him to try for it even though he knows he would give it his best.

"I want you to have it," he says finally. "Because I love you. And that's what love is, wanting your partner to have the best of everything. And that includes the best of me."

Wanda smiles softly. "But I already have the best of you."

How much more does he want to give her? She feels she's already been spoiled. Wanda might not be the type to say it, but she knows it. The life she has with Bucky here isn't fake despite the facade they put on for the rest of the town. It's as normal as it's ever going to get for her, and Bucky's a big part of that.

She brushes the back of her hand against the side of his face. "I just don't want you to feel bad about anything that doesn't happen, Bucky. It's not because of anything you've done." She shrugs a little hopelessly, pressing her lips together. "It's just me."

"Well, I like you, so hopefully we figure it out one day," Bucky says, hopeful even if he doesn't want to keep pressing at it and potentially upsetting her. He thinks Wanda deserves to have a little peace and he hadn't realized other people were so loud and that it was constant. If he'd known, he'd have had them live somewhere remote.

"I guess the important question is...are you into kissing? Because I am really into kissing and I'll be sad if we don't get to do a lot of that."

And kissing is something they can mutually enjoy.

She wrinkles her nose in feigned distaste. "I like kissing anyone but you." But the way she laughs makes it clear that that's not the truth at all.

At least that is easy, and it's something Wanda's done before, even if she hasn't had a steady stream of dates lined up at a dance hall. She leans in as if she's about to kiss him, but she pulls back and lifts her brows slightly in amusement.

"But I think I'm too tired to kiss." She fakes a very big yawn before she rests her head against his shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day." With the mood a lot lighter, all Wanda wants to do is tease him.

"Tease," Bucky says but it's a lazy accusation. "You really shouldn't get a guy's hopes up just to crash them on the rocks. Could really make a man give up on everything."

He's grinning, though, and he slides his hand down the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, and slips over to cup her ass. It's just touching, sure, but he thinks Wanda probably hasn't had nearly as much touch in her life as she deserves.

"I can tease too."

She inhales sharply and makes a noise low in her throat as she shifts and arches ever so slightly against him. He's right in assuming she hasn't been touched like this a lot in her life. Aside from being poked and prodded at HYDRA, normal touches were few and far between except for Pietro. Sensual touching was rare.

She doesn't hate it, even though it's not the norm for her.

Shooting him a warning look, she shakes her head as she curls her hands into his shoulders. "Bucky," she warns, even though she highly suspects his hearing will become selective in this very moment.

Bucky slips his fingers along the inside of her thigh. He wouldn't if she stopped him, though, but he thinks that her arching up against him is an invitation to keep touching and not an indication for him to stop. Her skin is soft, just like the rest of her, and he just strokes there along the inside of her thigh for a few moments.

"You have to say no, Wanda. Don't send mixed signals," he murmurs. "Because your body just said yes, please."

If she says no, he'll stop immediately. But if not, well. He can play a little more.

"Bucky," she says again. All she wants is for him to hold her, but she also doesn't mind him touching her. She wriggles against him for a moment and doesn't close her legs to dissuade him, but she doesn't part them any further, either.

She expects nothing, and she wants him to know that. Getting him off the way that she had had been something she wanted to do. Give him a little bit of relief, a little bit of pleasure, and prove to him that sometimes he wouldn't get his way in always putting her first.

She looks at him in amusement. "Didn't we just talk about this?" She really doesn't want him to be disappointed.

"I'm just touching," Bucky says, stilling his fingers for a moment. "I don't really have a goal. It's just touching."

That's the honest truth. He thinks if Wanda thinks he's after the orgasm, she'll tense up but if he's just touching to touch her, maybe she'll get some pleasure out of it even if she doesn't come. It'll at least get her used to being touched by him, anyway.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Wanda gazes down at him before she shakes her head. Touching she can do, even though she knows she's akin to a skittish animal right now. She's outside of her element, and while she suspects that Bucky knows that, her not erecting all of her walls to protect her from that discomfort at something new has to mean something to her. He's opened up to her; she figures it's only fair that she lets herself have something she often stops before it can even start.

"Don't tickle me," she says pointedly. She reluctantly rests her chin against the edge of his shoulder so that she can see his profile and he'd be able to tip his head toward her and see some of her. She relaxes somewhat, although she still holds herself tensely. "Not that I'm ticklish, of course," she finishes softly.

"Not planning on it," Bucky says. He shifts his hand a little higher and just strokes his fingers lightly. If he was looking to actively get her off, he'd be a little more insistent, but he's not. He just wants to touch and see how Wanda reacts to it and if he learns anything for next time, he learns something.

"Why don't you kiss me? Kiss me while I touch you a little?"

He thinks that's a safe enough place to start and if she doesn't like it, she can stop it.

"Like before?"

She has a feeling that's not what he means. Wanda hadn't minded touching his chest and kissing what she had been allowing herself to daydream about until she'd take an editor's knife and cut it out of her mind when Bucky used to be unattainable. She likes Bucky's chest; she's enjoyed it when he's stood closely behind her or when she's accidentally walked into him. She's a simple woman despite all the complications she brings.

"Or like this?" she asks more quietly before she lifts up and shifts against him, moving so she can kiss the corner of his mouth. The placement isn't purposeful—she'd been meaning to slant her mouth directly over his—but she much likes what she achieved, nonetheless. It feels more like her, not doing things so perfectly.

Bucky murmurs a yes against her lips and kisses her and even though the angle is a little off, it doesn't matter. It's still good. Sometimes things don't have to stay in the lines to be perfect and while they have a picket-fence kind of life, maybe it doesn't have to be so perfect behind closed doors. Weren't the best parts of life the messy ones?

He slides his hand up higher and touches her, really touches her, and while his fingers are light and aimless, he's still touching her a lot more intimately than he had been earlier. Maybe he can just ease into this a little at a time and eventually they'll both be more relaxed with one another.

He just hopes that Wanda doesn't pull away.

Wanda tenses and squeezes her thighs together, effectively trapping his hand. But she wills herself to relax at the unfamiliar touch. She wishes she was more like him, comfortable at the presence of a kind hand, accepting of gentleness. She worries uselessly—about what he feels, if he likes it, if he thinks any of this is worth it with how taut she always seems to be.

She's distracted by his touch, not quite kissing him back, although she keeps her lips pressed against his. Parting her legs slightly, she makes a soft noise low in her throat. She doesn't hate the touch; Wanda couldn't, not with the way he takes to her so gently like she's something worth being admired by hand.

Although she's very aware of his hand against her cunt, she slopes her mouth firmly against his, still gentle in her kiss even when she cups the sides of his face to tilt his head slightly toward her.

The kiss is good enough that he gets distracted for a moment and stops moving his fingers and just focuses on kissing Wanda and feeling her soft lips against his and her hair touching his skin. It's probably one of the better kisses he's had in his life if only because it's this soft, delicate intimacy and he hasn't had a lot of that.

He pulls away just enough to whisper against her mouth, "Stop me when it's too much," and slips his fingers against her again, glad to see she's at least a little slick and this at least feels good for her even if she isn't coming from it. That's good.

"Just relax and kiss me, all right?"

Touching his face, Wanda doesn't pull away when she nods. She exhales roughly through her nose and shifts her hips slightly in a bid to relax, but tenses her legs instead. All she needs is a moment to metaphorically shake it off.

When she kisses him again, it's a little harder. She traces his lips with her tongue before she pulls away to only kiss him again, but softer this time. She wants all that anxious energy to go somewhere else. She wants not only to prove to him that she'll let herself have this rather than self-sabotage, but show herself that she can trust herself with him, too.

And she thinks of what she wants, of what Bucky would prompt her to ask for to have her relax. She'd wanted his metal hand to touch her earlier; her desire for it hasn't changed. She wants what makes him different to warm her naked back.

Can you put your other hand on my back? But what she doesn't realise as she kisses him is that she doesn't ask it, but thinks it loud and clear in his head.

It takes him a moment to realize that Wanda hadn't asked him the question out loud and had merely thought it but it isn't something that bothers him. She's a telepath and he's touching her in a way she's not familiar with - it makes sense that she might not have the rigid control she usually does. Honestly, it's a little refreshing.

He slides his left hand up to touch her back, just laying the weight of it there in a way he hopes feels comfortable to her, and he keeps kissing her, running the edge of his tongue against her lower lip before biting it gently. He doesn't stop his hand, either, and traces against her with two fingers in an absent sort of way, just letting her get used to it.

That better? Bucky thinks it as purposefully as possible because he's not sure how telepathy works.

That's much better. Although she'd like his hand to move up and down her back, she just wants its weight and coolness to remind her that she's safe. And while it's not the part of Bucky anyone would deem is safe, it's a part of him that he's chosen to use to help her, protect her, and now even hold her.

Against his mouth, she says, "Yes", but frowns when she hears how strange her voice had sounded in comparison to his. She gasps, but not because of the ministrations of his fingers. Cupping her face with her hands, she abruptly sits upright, uncaring of his fingers nestled against her, and stares down at him horrified.

Cursing the equivalent of Oh fuck in Sokovian, Wanda's quick to say in a very heavy and apologetic accent, "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to do that."

Her one rule since living with Bucky was to never enter his head. She wouldn't read his mind, wouldn't accept the temptation of giving into the niggling of his thoughts, and wouldn't plant any thoughts or ideas in his head no matter how tempting it often is.

"S'all right, doll," Bucky says, smiling up at her. "You were distracted and it got the job done. I just don't think I did the thinking back very well because I don't know what I'm doing."

Her accent is thicker and Wanda usually only does that when she's nervous so Bucky wants to make this as little of a deal as possible. He'd be upset if she pried into his thoughts without permission on purpose but she'd just asked him a question and it was harmless. He rubs his hand along her back to try to soothe her.

"Stop worrying," he says, using Sokovian instead of English. "Just enjoy yourself."

Keeping her hands covering most of her face, she shakes her head. She won't do it again. Next time, she'll catch herself before she does it. It's a slippery slope and not one she ever wants to find herself on. Even though she'd only ever fallen down that slope once during her earlier days of understanding her ability, it's one she'll never fall from again.

She moves her hands down to cover her mouth as she peers down at him. "It won't happen again," she says quietly, her accent still thick. Then in Sokovian: "I promise."

Reluctantly—and mostly at the encouragement of his hand rubbing her back—she slowly lowers herself back down against him. Curling her hands against his shoulders once more, she doesn't hide her face in the crook of his neck like she wants to. She hovers above him.

Instead, she tries to lighten the mood just a touch and teases gently, "You think very loudly. I would be able to hear you from the sidewalk across the street."

"Yeah? Maybe you just gotta teach me the right way to think. I'm not too smart, you know. I'm just a guy from Brooklyn."

Bucky knows plenty of things, to be honest, and it isn't just the languages and the combat - he knows history and science and math. Still, it's a little fun just to pretend he's a dumb guy with a really smart girl and he hopes that Wanda will play along for the moment. He pulls his right hand from between her legs and strokes it along her arm.

"How am I 'sposed to think, Wanda?"

"Quiet."

She'll let his playful self-deprecation slide for now. While she still feels like jumping out of her skin for slipping, Wanda appreciates his hand on her arm. It's distracting and comforting, just like his metal arm had been on her back.

What he asks is a serious question, and Wanda thinks to reply in that manner.

"Like I'm in the room right beside you," she says, not switching to her lighter American. While she often defaults to her natural way of speaking when she's anxious, she can't explain this as anyone else but Wanda from Sokovia. That little girl beneath the rubble is the girl who transformed thoughts into stories, and while she didn't have her powers then, Wanda feels like that little girl now sharing this with him. It's an important part of herself, just like her love for stories. "Like this. I'll hear you no matter how loud everyone else is."

Bucky tries it again except this time he thinks it more casually, more like a conversation, and he keeps touching her the whole time. He thinks the touch is important because as much as it grounds him, he thinks it grounds Wanda a bit too and she needs something to feel good and safe for her. He wants to be that for her.

Did I ever tell you that you were my favorite, sweetheart?

He thinks he's doing it right this time and if he isn't, he guesses that Wanda can correct him again. Maybe this is something they can do sometimes because it feels incredibly intimate in a way that would be terrifying with anyone else but feels right with her.

Better, even if he's still a little loud.

Wanda rolls her eyes and looks at him with amusement. This is such a Buckyism, and she wonders if he's trying to make her blush again. She sits up against him, uncaring for once that she's naked, and rests her hands against his chest as she peers down at him. For once, she wants to sit on top of him and roll her shoulders slightly rather than lie against him.

She opens her mouth to speak, but presses her lips together and takes a moment to breathe deeply before she allows herself to respond in kind. She absently scratches lightly at his skin with a nail.

Your favourite what?

It feels like she's taken the bait.

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