𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼 [1]

8. {I Don't Want You}

You and Barnes navigate past the guards with minimal suspicion, hastening your way back down to the cellars. The thought of the inevitable reprimand from Steve upon your return—if you're not already too late—riles you up. Frustration simmers within you for allowing Bucky to once again divert your focus during a mission, even if this mission is, as he claims, a trap.

"You have an impeccable talent for choosing the worst possible moments, Barnes," you huff, casting a sharp, sidelong glance at him, your eyes narrowing in exasperation at the rush now imposed upon you.

"If Steve wasn't so preoccupied with your whereabouts, are you saying you would've stopped? Or wanted me to for that matter?" Bucky counters, slowing his pace to let you descend the steps first, the narrow space accommodating only a single file.

"That's beside the point!" you snap, turning your head to shoot him another glare. His laughter, a soft, mocking sound, only intensifies your irritation. You exhale a strangled sigh of frustration and skulk forward, the furious clicking of your heels against the concrete echoing your agitation.

"No, the point is, you could barely keep your hands off me back there, Y/N," he continues to provoke, his voice echoing lightly through the entrance hall of the numerous wine cellars now before you.

"Fuck off, Barnes," you snap again, resolutely avoiding his gaze, aware that he's only seeking to elicit a reaction, "Stop acting like it means anything, here."

"No? So, has Steve become your remedy to fuck the bratiness out of you between missions now? Is that what it's come to?" His voice maintains an unsettling calmness as he speaks, his words dripping with sarcasm. Yet, beneath the surface, a darker undercurrent simmers in his expression. "Do you let him witness just how much of a beg you truly are, Y/N? How desperate you are to feel something that you don't care who's cock is inside you, as long as it's something?" His words ooze with malice, punctuated by a scornful laugh.

Your eyes widen in utter shock to his words, your hands limp now at your sides as you lock eyes with him, mouth slightly agape. It takes you a second or two to try and compose yourself yet you fail, the anger now truly boiling up inside you. He wants a damn reaction from you, well he's going to get it. "No, Barnes... I don't," you retort, your voice measured but laced with a chilling undertone. "Because I have the fucking respect for, Steve. You on the other hand..." You trail off, leaving the implication hanging in the air as you shrug, dismissing him with all the importance of a speck of lint on someone's jacket.

"Me, on the other hand, you despise more than anyone else in the entirety of this universe..." He sighs dramatically before suddenly snapping, pointing a finger your way. "NO, sweetheart!" His voice resonates down the hall, causing you to startle at the change in pitch. "I've worked with you long enough to discern exactly what it is that you hate, and I assure you, it's not me."

It's your turn to laugh incredulously at his deductions, your arms gesturing wildly at your sides. "Oh? Please, enlighten me then?" Your voice mirrors his intensity, both of you momentarily oblivious to the auction taking place just beyond the doors behind you.

"It's not me that you despise, Y/N... It's the insatiable craving you can't rid. No matter how hard you try to deny it, there's always that one constant— the realization that you loathe how much you will always want this," He pauses, gesturing between you both, "Us," he steps closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper, "Me."

Before you can even process your actions, your hand deftly reaches for the pistol holstered at your thigh, concealed within the slit of your dress, expertly camouflaged by the flowing fabric. With a fluid motion, you cock the gun and level it squarely at Barnes, your fury surpassing all bounds. "I DON'T FUCKING WANT YOU, JAMES!" Your voice reverberates so forcefully in the confined space that you almost startle yourself with its intensity.