ostavil | open post

Bucky can see the warm flush of Natasha's skin and it's beautiful. Everything about her is beautiful, sure, but it seems like every time he looks at her, he finds something new to admire. When she says he can have her again, he slides in slow. He wants it to last a little while this time so they can both enjoy it and he wants it to feel smooth and without the awkwardness of the first time.

"You feel so good," he murmurs, nuzzling under her chin and kissing along her neck. All of her skin is silky smooth and he wants to map it all out with his lips and then go back over it with his tongue. Her arms are wrapped around his neck but he reaches up to take them in his hands, lacing their fingers together and pushing them up above Natasha's head.

"Don't go getting away from me."

It was smoother, this time, but Natasha still hissed a soft breath when Bucky slid in again, and she relaxed her thighs a little to seat him fully. He nuzzled at her, kissing her neck like a lover should, and every place that he touched, her blood flamed, wanting more. It was instinct to lift her hips, roll her body beneath his to generate just enough friction for her eager nerves, but before she could, her hands were lifted above her head, stretching her under his large frame.

"--I won't," she managed to promise, head tipping back to offer her throat and more of her heated skin. "...James..." Natasha heard herself whimper, a mewling little voice that she didn't even recognize. "...pleeease..." Her hips bucked, enticing, and she turned her head to nip at his ear, panting what she wanted directly to him.

Bucky would never tell her no anyway but never when Natasha is soft beneath him and her skin is painted in a warm flush. He rolls his hips up against her and pushes into her deep, moaning low at the feel of her tight around him. God, he loves her, and he's never going to stop.

He doesn't know if he can keep her forever but he's damn going to try and he'll do everything he can to convince her that he's the kind of man she deserves and the kind of man who will treat her well.

"You feel so good to me, sweetheart. You know that?"

Natasha had no idea how he managed to do these wicked things with his body and still retain enough coherence to form actual words. Because her vocabulary now consisted of little more than his name, her low, needful moans, and a few hissed gasps here and there. Her wrists turned in his grip, her fingers wanting to dig into his shoulders as he rode her deeply, and glazed green eyes met beautiful blue in a dreamy, half-lashed haze.

It wasn't the alcohol, now. It was her own choice, to share this man's bed, let him plunder her body, and give him the freedom to take care of her, as no one ever had before. Natasha knew Bucky was sincere; she could feel it in his touch, hear it in his voice.

And she could only answer with her soft little whimpers, the whispered husk of his name, and her body, rising so smoothly to meet his. It was magic, a magic that she'd never before experienced, and Natasha never wanted it to end.

It's past the alcohol for Bucky too. The alcohol had made it easier to make the move, sure, but he's had these feelings for a long time and helping get her out of the situation with Alex had only made them stronger. Natasha is a woman who deserves to be cherished and loved the way he's trying to now and he wants to be lucky enough to do it for the rest of his life.

He moves faster now, pressing in deep, and catches her mouth in a long, slow kiss. This is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone, he thinks, and he doesn't think it could be like this with anyone but Natasha. She feels so good, so perfect.

She just fits.

She'd never been suffered over before. As if she were something precious, something to cherish, to crave. Bucky kissed her, little grunts of of shared desire escaping him in soft breaths, and just that was enough to make Natasha's head spin. He wanted her. Her. And he proved it as he took the rest, rolling deep into her with every long thrust, pulling a breathless gasp out of her at the apex of each.

It was terribly intimate, this coupling, and Natasha felt her body tightening all too soon; she wanted it to last forever, this sweet anticipation and the movement of his body in hers. But her loins clenched and quivered, eagerly squeezing around him as he worked in and out, making her nails slowly drag down the length of Bucky's broad back, the muscles moving beneath her hands feeling nothing less than velvet-covered steel.

Natasha is tight and then even tighter as she comes and it's everything he can do to fuck her through it and hold on so she gets everything out of it before he takes his. The drag of her nails, though, does him in and he moves in a few more short thrusts before burying his face against her neck and giving in to bliss.

Bucky doesn't move after that, just stays where he is, and he lifts his head to look into her eyes.

"I could do that every day for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't be enough, Natasha."

He was heavy, but not unpleasantly so. Natasha lay beneath Bucky, panting, feeling her entire body tingle all over, from head to toe. Atop her, Bucky fought for his own air, big frame trembling very slightly, but more than enough for her to feel it. She shifted only a bit when his head lifted, and hazy eyes met his, a new flush decorating her cheeks at his passioned words.

Natasha had no idea what to say, so she just lowered her lashes and curved her lips, a coquettish maid's evasion, and gently pulled his head down beside hers so she could bury her face in the curve of his neck. Lethargy was quickly catching up, and her body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. The breeze from the open patio door was cool, a sensuous tease on her feverish skin, and the redhead cuddled close to her lover, seeking warmth and comfort.

It feels good to lay there with Natasha curled around him and Bucky turns his head just a little to kiss the top of hers. They're both exhausted and both a little overheated from sex but the breeze feels good and Bucky thinks there's nowhere else he ever wants to be.

"You know, you could just stay here," Bucky says. He knows it's probably just afterglow making him stupid but he is already in love with her. The sex had nothing to do with the fact that he was in love with her because that had already happened.

"If you want your space, go for it, but...I'd like you up here. With me."

Oh, God, why did he have to say things like that? Natasha felt her cheeks heat again, and she reflexively ducked her head into the hollow of Bucky's throat to keep from meeting those earnest blue eyes. Because she honestly didn't know if she'd be able to refuse him, not right now.

Natasha nibbled on her lower lip, but she tried to explain, anyway. "...I need my space," she murmured, voice low, muffled by his neck. "At least for a while." A small hand gently cupped his cheek, and she nuzzled his jaw tenderly. "I need to figure things out...on my own." Just how she was going to do that, she really had no idea.

Now Natasha did meet those beautiful eyes, her own soft, liquid. "...is that okay?"

"I can't make you live with me, baby," Bucky says, brushing his hand through tangled curls. It hurts, sure, but he's not going to pressure her to move in with him when she says she needs space and she just got out of a bad relationship. It doesn't make him better than Alex if he does.

"If you wanna stay down in the guest house, it's fine. If you want to get your own place somewhere else, I'll foot the rent. Whatever you feel is comfortable. I'd like if you at least stayed down in my guest house so I knew you were safe, though. Easier to protect you if you're on my property."

Edited 2022-01-28 03:31 (UTC)

"I like the guest house," she replied, still quiet, still soft. "It's basically brand new, I don't think anyone has been in there for more than a week." One of her eyebrows went up. "Right?" Either way, though, she was still close by, and hopefully that would be enough. She wasn't broke, but having to foot her own living allowance right now would be...tight, and taking advantage of rent-free space wasn't entirely horrible, was it?

"I do feel safe here," Natasha told him, shivering lightly before hitching a little closer. "...and I know eventually I'll have to...confront Alex, and I'd rather he not know where I'm living right now, or be able to get to me if he somehow manages to find out."

"It's part of the reason I want you in the house with me," Bucky admits. "But there's security down there too. Maybe you can let Brooklyn stay down with you - he likes you well enough."

Bucky rubs his hands over Natasha's back and falls quiet for a moment. "But I also want you in the house because I love you. I wanna fall asleep with you here and wake up with you here, you know? But that's kinda selfish of me. I shouldn't be asking you to do that."

"Well, unless he rides a dolphin and climbs up the cliff, he can't get on the grounds at all," Natasha quipped, then brooded a moment, recalling just how many of her former boyfriend's friends owned boats. Another shiver coursed over her; she didn't want to think about it, or him, at all.

And hearing Bucky's declaration yet again only darkened her former euphoria further. "No," Natasha suddenly clipped, pulling away slightly, "you shouldn't." Averting her gaze, out of frustration this time, she tried to untangle her body from his, determinedly scooting out from beneath him and pulling the rumpled sheet with her, a buffer against the chill and also a shield for what modesty she could muster.

Tousled scarlet hiding her profile from him, Natasha muttered at the floor, "I wish you'd stop saying things like that, James. I don't--I don't know how to feel when you do, and it just makes everything awkward..."

Shit. He's really fucked it up this time. Fuck. Bucky takes a breath and pulls even further away so there's more space between them than she'd even put. This is why he shouldn't have said anything. He knew he was only getting one night and fucking ruining it by opening his big mouth was a colossal failure on his part.

"Natasha, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he says and he knows his voice is cracking a little. Goddamnit. This is why he both craves her being around him and can't trust her being around him at the same time.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I won't say anything, okay? I know you just wanted it for tonight and that's fine. I need to stop...whatever this is I'm doing."

Naturally, the headache chose that moment to leap to the front of her brain, gleefully throbbing away behind her right eye. Natasha ducked her head and stifled a pained groan; she didn't want even more nursemaiding.

"Stop apologizing," she whispered, pulling the sheet up around her bare shoulders. "Just...just stop talking altogether, please." It took her a few tries, but Natasha finally managed to get to her feet, gathering up the yards of sheet so she wouldn't trip.

She didn't bother hunting for her clothes, and thank God no one else was around to see, but it didn't take her too long to navigate a direct path out of the main house and down the path to the guest house, closing the door behind her with hard finality. Breathless and miserable, the redhead collapsed in a different bed to cry until she couldn't, then fall into a restless, exhausted sleep for the next several hours.

Bucky feels like shit now that she's left and it takes him a while to go to sleep. He can't figure out if he coerced her or not, the alcohol has made him too hazy, and he doesn't know if sending her flowers to apologize will just make her be more angry at him or not.

He loves her more than breathing and she left his bed because he's an asshole.

The next day, he doesn't bother trying to call and he doesn't try the next either. He's moping around and Becca asks what's up; he doesn't volunteer. What he does do is ask her to go down and check on Natasha so she does, even if she's confused as to why. Becca raps at the door of the guest house.

"Hey, Natasha? My brother wanted me to come see if you were okay. Something about you being sick? He's busy in the studio but wanted me to see if you needed something."

She hadn't emerged from the guest house in the last forty-eight hours. Thankfully the rest of the weekend had been quiet, and Natasha had divided her time between moping in bed, trying to read a few of the novels she'd never gotten around to reading, and watching silly cat videos on YouTube. Nothing seemed to hold her attention for very long, however.

Nevertheless, the knock on the door surprised her, and a moment of sheer panic washed over when she heard Becca's youthful voice. Throwing on a robe over her customary t-shirt and shorts ensemble that served as pajamas, and opened the door just enough to see the girl's young face.

Natasha smiled a little wanly. "Hi, Becca. I'm...better. A little touch of the stomach bug, I think." Not quite a lie; her nerves had been making her nauseous since Friday night."

"Damn, I'm sorry. He's acting like you just got diagnosed with cancer and have six weeks to live but if he's so worried, I don't know why he didn't come down here himself," Becca says. Who knows. Bucky's going to Bucky sometimes and she's not one to question it.

"He's been in the studio for two days drinking vodka from the bottle so I figured you got told you had a brain tumor or that guy came by or something. I'm glad to hear it's nothing. You want me to get Mom to send you over chicken soup? It's homemade. It's the best shit ever. You'll be better in no time, I promise."

It was...surprising, but somewhat of a relief, that Bucky hadn't divulged the details of just why they hadn't been speaking, but hearing that he'd been in the studio these last two days drinking wasn't entirely reassuring. But, Natasha firmly reminded herself, she wasn't the man's keeper, nor was it any of her responsibility what he did with his time.

So she forced another small smile.

"No, just haven't been feeling my usual self, is all." She wasn't going to offer any insight on why Bucky Barnes might be brooding, or sulking, behind a liquor bottle to the man's younger sister. "But chicken soup sounds lovely, I'm sure it'll do just the trick. Thank you, Becca."

"I'll let her know and send it over. Maybe Bucky will sober up and bring it himself but I doubt it. He really reeks," Becca says, wrinkling her nose. "I had my money on cancer so bad, too. I'm gonna owe Carol money now. At least it was just twenty bucks."

She laughs, though, and shakes her head. "He's always been super dramatic. One time he failed this exam in college and granted, it was important, but he was like oh my life is fucking over, what am I going to do, et cetera and we all just told him to man up and ask his professor for extra credit. He just...he feels too much, you know? When he loves something, he loves it with every part of himself and he falls hard. It was like that with music, with engineering...I think he cares about you too. I haven't ever seen him have a depression spiral over someone with the stomach flu."

Becca shrugs. "Be nice to him, though. He'd probably put you on his joint checking account if you said you needed a dollar for the vending machine. He treats you different than he has ever treated a woman and you're just friends. I can't imagine what he'd do if he was in a relationship with you. Probably buy you your own island and build you a castle or something equally ridiculous."

Meanwhile, as Natasha was suffering silent agonies listening to Becca Barnes ramble on about her beloved older brother, Carol Danvers had arrived at the Winter Soldier studio and wasn't too surprised to see her boss and lead singer once again swilling cheap vodka right out of the bottle and moaning pathetically into a microphone while he tried to read the chicken scratch scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper held haphazardly in one tattooed fist.

"Mother of fuck," the blonde muttered, rolling her eyes as she opened the door to the sound stage and hit the overhead lights.

"Hey, Buck," she called, kicking an empty bottle out of the way with a soft snort. "What's the matter this time? You lose your invitation to the this year's MTV Awards?"

"She hates me," Bucky slurs, finishing off the bottle he has in his hand. He's impossibly drunk and the chords he's attempting to play sound nothing like music and incredibly like the atonal noise that people are trying to pass off as modern composition these days but aren't winning any awards for.

"Slept with her and she doesn't want me," he adds. Carol rolls her eyes. Of course. She takes the empty bottle from Bucky's hands and pulls a chair over, turning it around so she can sit backward in it.

"Ivy, right? She's right down in your guest house, Buck. Yeah, I figured that shit out pretty quick because you look at her with giant moon eyes whenever she's in the room and I know everyone else is gonna figure it out too. What'd you do, propose to her after one date? Sounds like you."

Bucky sighs. "She doesn't want me."

Carol pulled up a chair and turned it around, straddling it backwards and crossing her arms across its back. "You ever think she might need a little space? The woman's just gotten out of a shitty relationship. You saw how that asshole treated here the one day they were here. You wanted to pull out his guts with hot fishhooks, if I remember."

She tapped fingers on the chair back. Then squinted a little more speculatively at him.

"...are you even sober enough to understand what I'm saying? Or am I just wasting my breath? Because if I am, I'll just head back home until you've gotten your head out of your ass about this chick and picked up a few clues." Carol shook her head, nonplussed. "Christ, Bucky, when you fall for someone, you land like a fucking meteor, dude."

"Sober enough," Bucky says, frowning a little. When Carol says he falls like a meteor, she's not exactly wrong. When he falls, he falls hard and it's hard and hot and desperate for him when it comes to her. She has a point about Natasha's former relationship but he's so different. He's nothing like Alex.

"I'm the opposite of that guy, Carol," he says, sighing heavily. "I'm tryin' to be good to her. I'll give her everything and then two dollars more. I jus' wanna take care of her and be with her and she'd never have to worry with me. I wouldn't ever hurt her."

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