With Him | Bucky x Reader | Enemies with Benefits

*50*

*⬆️I THINK WE ALL KNOW WHAT THE STARS MEAN...*

Y/n's POV:

The movie was...fine. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't particularly good (although I'm sure Peter would argue otherwise, and Tony would back him up, and maybe Clint, and Scott...). 

Okay, the movie was fine, there were just other things that I would much rather be doing... Specifically with the man to the left of me whose hand was tracing tiny circles on my thigh.

I couldn't even focus on the movie. We still hadn't even so much as kissed since the argument but he was teasing me under the blanket in a way that would make it way too hard to hold back.

 He thought it was too dark to see the evil grin that had plastered itself across his face half an hour ago when he'd gotten bored of the movie and decided to start playing his little game, but in the flashes of light caused by on-screen laser beams and explosions, I could see his growing smirk.

I could feel the flush on my cheeks getting stronger and I pulled the neck of my hoodie over my nose to shield my face from his playful-yet-accusatory glances. 

Fucker.

As he continued to doodle on my leg with his thumb, his pinkie rubbed the hem of my shorts. He was making his intentions very clear.

Breathe in, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out, 2, 3, 4. Think about something else, anything else...Apples, grapes, bananas, Bucky's di- No. Shit.

"You know what? I think I'm going to turn in for the night." Bucky announced to the group, standing up and stretching. "Enjoy the movie, see you tomorrow." he said, yawning and walking out. It wasn't a real yawn, his nose normally scrunched up when he yawned so I knew that he was just leaving to mess with me.

And, dammit, it was messing with me.

"I think I'm going to head to bed as well, g'night." I declared, trying to walk away from the group at a regular pace and not like I was running to Bucky's room to get fucked into oblivion.

The walk there seemed to take forever. I tapped my foot on the floor of the elevator, regretting not just running up the stairs like Buck probably had. I bit my lip impatiently, conjuring pictures of his shirtless body over me, under me, all of him inside me.

As soon as the doors pinged open, I found myself half-walking, half-jogging down the corridor until I stood outside his room and knocked impatiently on the door.

"It's open!" He called from inside.

Stepping inside the room to find dimmed lighting and Buck lying on his bed in only his sweatpants with a book in his hands was pure perfection and I sighed before composing myself. I still had some self-respect.

"Hey." He greeted, not looking up from the page.

"Hi," I replied, walking over to the bed and taking the book out of his hands. "Le Comte de Monte-Cristo?"

"I had only read it in English before the war, thought I should give it a shot in French." He clarified. "Have you read it?"

"No..." I responded, flicking through the pages and inspecting the cover.

"You can borrow it if you want. Like I said, I've already read it."

"Really?" I asked as the corners of my mouth turned up in a smile.

"Yeah, why not?" He sat up, his legs swung casually over the side of the bed.

I wanted to say: "Because you're normally very protective of your books, that's why not" but instead I just shrugged and placed the book down on his bedside table.