Empty Threats

wavering morals

Tw: graphic language, sexual situations, primal kink, smut, violence, use of guns, bandage, toxic relationships

Bucky had followed lloyd most the way on the desolate road, pulling off to the side onto an overgrown path to hide his vehicle when he saw lights coming back the other direction. "That was quick." He had to wonder why such a hurry. He slumped into his seat when Lloyd's car sped past, briefly looking into the passenger seat. He didn't see you or anyone. Strange. He waited till he couldn't see the lights anymore and he popped the door open. Holstering his gun to his hip, and sliding his phone into his pocket.

Slowly he made his way up the road, the sun finally going down, making it that much harder to see. His hearing made up for it though. He came up to the building, clearly abandoned except for a couple windows above him that were lit up. He deducted that whatever lloyd had come here for, couldn't have been good. It was mostly a gut feeling that anything. He approached the front door, but stopped short when he noted the motion detector and camera in the corner. "Hm." He rolled his eyes and kept against the edge of the building as he made his way around to find another entrance. After making it halfway around, and taking note that every door had the same thing, he opted to find a different route.

He took a moment to let his eyes fully adjust to the darkness, and smirked when he saw the ladder above. A fire escape. He checked to make sure his gun was still in place and sprinted to the wall. He kicked off on the front of his shoes, and shot his arm up, latching onto the metal and pulling himself up. He finished climbing and quietly stepped onto the platform. He crouched down as he passed widows, still unsure who or what was inside. He got to the second window, and stopped. He placed his palms onto the cool glass and slowly started to push it up. Luckily it gave, and he ducked down to climb inside. Once inside, he went to reach for his phone as a flashlight and realized it wasn't there. "Shit. Shit. Fuck." He'd grab it on the way out.

Cautiously he moved through the room and out the door, into the hallway. He scanned it, and began moving when he heard a shrill "no." He immediately drew his pistol, and flipped off the safety. Holding it out in front of him as he pressed to the wall. He rounded the corner, seeing a door open slightly at the end and shadows creeping out. That was a woman's voice. As he got closer he heard a man's. He was about to go full force when he heard moans. He halted, blinking a few times. Now he was confused. He inched closer, peering into the room through the crack, seeing you, naked, hand over mouth, your back and body pressed against the blonde man's chest as he fucked you from behind. Your face flush. His other hand possesively holding your abdomen as his fingers circled your clit. His cock pounding into you. Buckys mouth dropped open. Who the fuck was this guy and what the fuck were you doing here? What had lloyd done? He was spiraling from the whiplash of emotions and didn't know what to do. He did know, he couldn't pry his eyes away and his cock was straining against his boxers. He flipped the safety back on, sliding his gun into his holster and rubbed himself through his pants. He slowly pulled the zipper down, reaching past his boxers and pulling his cock free. Precum dripping from the head. He gathered spit in his mouth and caught it with his palm. He curled his fingers around himself and began pumping up and down. His free hand flattening to the wall, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to prevent him from moaning outwardly. He kept his eyes glued to you. Your eyes. Your body. Your pretty dripping pussy. Fuck. He wished he was buried inside you. He was regretting not bending you over that island and fucking you stupid. His hips rolled back and forth as your body moved. Trying to be in synch with you. His own movements increasing the louder your moans got. He had managed to tune Monroes noises out unfortunately not the sight of his cock filling you. Driving into your gspot. Making you lose your godamn mind.

------------------------------------------------------------

Monroes footsteps were so quiet. Silent. He moved with pure stealth. He was trained to. He'd be disappointed in himself if he couldn't catch you, easily. You didn't have any experience. Least he guessed. He could have been wrong. Wasn't usually. He could hear you scatter out of a room and into another every so often. He could almost smell the fear and arousal. He was following that trail. It was so bitter-sweet. Hunting you would only make catching you and fucking you into the the ground even better. Where as he enjoyed fucking you while you were hanging there, helpless... it wasn't exactly his style. He preferred a good chase first. He always came much harder. Seeing the look of bliss and defeat on his preys face. There was nothing else like it.