The Aftermath

Chapter 6

It is still dark outside when Bucky awakens after dozing for a few hours and the two of you spend countless hours mourning and talking about the past. Eventually, you drag out a bottle of wine and a flash of Asgardian liquor that Val had presented to Steve as a thank you or a congratulations or condolence of some kind, you couldn't recall. Slowly, the atmosphere changes as the two of you drink and reminisce over happier memories. You listen intently as Bucky tells you stories about their past, focusing intently on their childhood and pre-serum Steve, some that you had heard before from Steve's perspective and some that were completely new to you. "I was lucky to have that little punk," Bucky sighs after wrapping up a story that leaves him misty eyed and wistful. "It sounds like he was lucky to have you," you counter. "Steve wouldn't have been half the man he was if it weren't for you," you say firmly as his gaze snaps up to yours in surprise. "I don't know about that," he mumbles, "Steve was always the better man-" He gasps when you grab his chin in your hand and level a serious look at him. "Bullshit. You are amazing Bucky. You are a good man. You always looked out for a rebellious kid who clearly didn't have the bulk to back up his attitude. Even after the serum, you always put Steve's welfare before your own. After...you were always on his side. You fought again and again when he asked you too...even when you didn't want to...even when you deserved peace after a life of fighting. And all of your goodness extends beyond Steve...just look at you now. You saved me from myself...even when I've been nothing but terrible to you. You saved me James Buchanan Barnes...you have saved me every day since you returned...every day since Steve made the decision to leave...to pursue an easier life...and if that doesn't make you the better man then I don't know what does." Bucky's lips part in a silent gasp of shock at your words as his eyes shimmer with a myriad of emotions that you can't quite make out. You aren't sure who makes the decision to close the distance between you or if it was even a conscious choice at all but suddenly all you know is the feel of Bucky's lips against yours and the intoxicating taste of him as your tongues meld together.

Bucky lets out a small needy sound and suddenly you find yourselves locked in a passionate embrace, hands tangled in each other's hair and lips crashing together in an inelegant combination of teeth and tongues and breathless moans. Your bodies are sealed together and you aren't entirely sure how you have gotten into this position, you straddling his slim hips and your torsos plastered against each other as if you are one cohesive unit. As you feel his arousal through your clothing, you realize that you don't care how you ended up like this but you want more as you instinctively grind your hips against his, desperate for friction. He pulls away breathlessly, his lips already pink and swollen slightly from the intensity of your kissing and his eyes glazed with a mixture of grief and alcohol and undeniable desire. "You're drunk," he protests weakly before you silence him with another aggressive kiss before responding. "Not that drunk," you punctate your words with another roll of your hips that pulls a delicious groan from deep in his throat, his chest rumbling slightly with the sound. "I'm not Steve," he says flatly, throwing your words from the night before back at you, still clearly upset by the encounter. "No, you're not," you concede in a gentle voice, pulling back to look down into his face, your eyes silently trying to convey the seriousness of your words. "You aren't Steve and it wasn't fair of me to ever make that comparison. There is not comparison. You are here...you chose to be here. This has nothing to do with him. This is just you and me being right here right now," you murmur gently and watch as those words regist and break whatever hesitant restraint he had as he pulls you back down to his mouth and unleashes himself upon you.

His mouth covers yours as he pulls you closer, his flesh hand cradling your head as his metal arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him until you can feel his heartbeat as if it were your own. Your hands grip his broad shoulders before wandering back into his hair, pulling lightly and eliciting a sexy growl from him that heats your core. His lips roam down your jaw and neck, finding your sweet spot and paying it special attentions and letting your pleasured groans dictate his movements. Your hands move to roam over his torso, finding the hem of his t-shirt and tugging on it until he helps you remove it, tossing it carelessly to the side as your eyes wander over him. Bucky was a soldier and his body was testament to that fact, scars decorated his golden skin, lit silver in the moonlight that bathes the two of you in its ethereal glow. Wordlessly, you lean forward and pepper featherlight kisses across the time healed wounds before trailing your lips along the ridged tissue that connects his shoulder to his vibranium arm. Your heart twinges at the light sounds that escape his lips and for a moment, you wonder if anyone has ever been gentle with this sweet souled man for even once in his life. You don't have long to let that question linger before he lifts you in a graceful move, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he once again claims your mouth. His hands lower to your ass, gripping it firmly as he walks you through the apartment and into his bedroom where he kicks the door shut before turning to pin you against it, you back thumping solidly against the cool wood as his hips shift to help hold you steady and you moan lightly at the friction of the movement. His hands tremble almost imperceptibly as they move to grip the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it until you break the kiss to pull it over your head and toss it aside. His breathing turns ragged as his steel blue eyes darken further and scan down the length of your torso, his fingers lightly, almost nervously, brushing along the edge of your lacy black bra that barely covers your breasts. You reach behind you, carefully watching his face as you unclasp and remove the garment, tossing it away just as a guttural sound rips itself from his throat and he leans forward to capture a nipple in his mouth as his hand kneads at your other one. You throw your head back, luxuriating in the feeling of his tongue gliding over your sensitive peaks. You are aching with need when he finally lifts his head, the look in his eyes enough to make your heart ache but you don't want to explore the reason behind that right now. You don't want to talk or question or think, you just want to feel. Carefully, you wriggle out of Bucky's grasp enough to stand on your own two feet and silently reach down to begin fumbling with his belt and fly. You are only too relieved when he returns the gesture, the two of you stripping completely before tumbling towards the bed in a tangle of want and need.