This Is Stella's Reality

August 10, 2014

Silence is deafening. Moonlight is cold. And the memories replaying in my head burn like fire.

Bucky's metal hand was freezing against my skin. The sensation was exhilarating and sent shock waves around my body. His other hand pulled at the belt loops of my jeans, sliding my hips over his.

My hands rested in his hair and against his heaving chest. His metal hand began playing with the clasps of my bra, and his tongue met mine over and over.

Bucky's lips left mine, and he kissed down my face. His teeth nipped at my jawline, and he sucked the skin on my neck, leaving bruises near my collarbone.

I sighed heavily in his ear, and Bucky continued to pull me roughly against his body. He was strong, and I felt so small in comparison to him.

People from Coney Island began searching for their cars, and lights began shining in the parking lot. Bucky and I pulled apart, breathing heavily, searching each other's eyes. Voices were approaching, so I slid back into the passenger seat.

Bucky cleared his throat and gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with force. He looked handsome in this dark lighting, only the pale blue moonlight leaking through the windows. He turned the car on, and we pulled away from Coney Island.

We were definitely speeding as we zipped down the highway. Bucky's hands were still firmly latched onto the wheel as we raced back to the compound.

He probably regrets it.

Cars were only blips of light disappearing past us. The only distraction from my memories were those dancing headlights. His eyes were blankly staring at the expansive road in front of us, and music wasn't playing over the radio as it had been earlier in the afternoon. It was late, and we had made a mistake.

I shivered, remembering the roughness of his touch on my body. His eyes had been so dark, lustful, dangerous. It was a mistake, this game of flirty chicken, cat and mouse, whatever it was.

We rounded corners until the garage door raised. The headlights of my car blinded us as they reflected back against the white doors of the compound. Bucky pulled into a parking spot, turned the car off, and got out as quickly as he could. I sat in silence for a moment.

Yeah, that was a mistake.

My car door flung open, and Bucky was suddenly leaning over me, undoing my seatbelt. His metal hand gripped my wrist and pulled me from the car. The door slammed behind me, and I jogged to keep up with his pace.

"Where are we going? Are you okay, Bucky?" He wasn't speaking. His steps echoed through the empty garage and rang loudly in my ears. He ascended the steps quickly, and I nearly tripped trying not to get left behind.

Inside the compound, Bucky made a sharp turn towards the training room down the hall. Why?

"Um," I was confused, "Bucky, why are we going this way?"

His shoes thundering down the hallway was his only response. His grip on my wrist was tight, the cool metal of his hand had grown warm on my skin. My heart hammered in my chest at the reasons why Bucky would be leading me to the training room.

Suddenly, Bucky stopped, but his arm pushed me in front of him. His other hand held the small of my back and kept me walking into the training room. His body heat radiated behind me, but a cold shiver ran up my spine.

He pushed me roughly against the ropes surrounding the boxing ring. I caught myself and turned to face him, ready to ask why he was being so silent and aggressive. I stopped when his forearms pinned me in place against the ropes. His hands resting on the mat behind me. He leaned forward, his face centimeters from mine.