Bucky Barnes Fics

Lessons In Exercise

"Everyone out."

The softly-spoken command slashes through the loud chatter, a wave of silence crashes over the gym.

Machines grind to a slow halt. Agents stare at each other, then at the man standing in the middle of the gym. Everything about him, his stance, his glare screams intimidating, dangerous. Fuck if it doesn't turn you on.

When no one moves, he raises a brow, flexing his vibranium arm, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the moving plates as he makes a fist. It's a clear unspoken threat in the air, don't make me repeat myself.

They scatter for the double doors, water bottles, and towels forgotten. You smile, running your tongue over your lower lip, you had wondered how long it was going to take him to break, looking at the timer on the screen, you're impressed.

With yourself.

This is a new record for you. You haven't even finished the warm-up. You had thought you were going to have to step up your teasing until he spoke.

His lack of restraint when it comes to you is legendary. You knew what was going to happen the second you pushed open the gym doors. There was a reason why half the agents had stormed out the second they saw you, all of them careful to hide their glares from the Avenger who was staring you down while you strolled across the facility.

Humming under your breath, you take off your rose gold headphones and pick up your towel off the arm of the treadmill. The last man flees, the pedals on his exercise bike next to you still moving. When the doors swing shut with a click, you step off, stretching your arms over your head with an exaggerated groan. Continuing to hum nonchalantly, you pick up your water bottle and saunter to the doors.

"Not you." His words stop you in your tracks, your skin prickling at the sound of him.

His voice dripping with lust, desire for you, sending a surge of it down your belly so fast, hard that you clench around nothing, your clit pulsating from the low timbre of his voice. You glance over your shoulder. That look on his face would scare any other person, hell it just cleared an entire room. He looks like he wants to devour you.

Fuck, that's sexy, you love when he gets riled up, aggressive. Wanting to claim you and let everyone know that he belongs to you, even more than you belong to him.

Bucky stands in the middle of the now deserted facility, loose black shorts around his waist, thick muscular arms crossed over his bare chest, a sheen of sweat clinging to him. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes dragging up and down your body, his eyes darkening the longer he stares at you.

"Come. Here."

You turn on your heel, taking a sip of your cold water. "Can I help you, Sergeant?" The faux innocence in your tone tearing at his fraying semblance of control. His chest heaves as he takes a deep breath, his hand raking through his damp locks. He's seconds away from sprinting across the room and taking you against the wall.

With every step, he seems to get larger, his craving, passion for you rolling off of him in waves. When you reach him, you stand toe to toe, putting the bottle up to your face, tipping it over your mouth. His eyes follow the dribble of water that spills out, a thin stream snaking its way down your chin, neck, your chest until it disappears into your black sports bra.

"Now."

A mere sliver of cerulean remains in his darkened eyes when they snap up to your face, you could feel the heat of his gaze from a distance, but now with him holding your chin up between those warm large fingers, the steady breaths from his parted lips on your skin as he studies you, it burns you, heat unfurling from every part of you. Part of you is surprised that the water didn't evaporate the second it touched you.