THE LEFTOVERS

39. My place

"This is your place," James said, as he stopped the car.

You laughed low and looked up at your apartment. The lights were off, your roommate must still be out. You looked back at James with a warm smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"This is my car, so are you coming in with me?" You asked tilting your head.

James looked up at your apartment, and down at you before he removed your seatbelt. You smiled relieved. You were not ready to get dismissed for the first time by a guy you asked to come up to your place. That was an embarrassment you weren't ready for. You took of your seatbelt, and the two of you went out from the car. James took your hand in the elevator, and intertwined your fingers. You looked up at him happy. He looked gorgeous. You leaned your head on his shoulder. He lifted up your chin as he kissed your lips. You kissed him back, just in time as the elevator opened.

You towards your door, and locked up the door to the apartment. You already felt a lot better than you had in days. This was your space. Your safe zone. No one could possibly bully you from here. You turned around, facing James. You didn't really know what to do. Were the two of you just supposed to hang out? It seemed odd. You smiled weakly. You needed to clean your clothes and do other boring house chorus. You doubted that Bucky would enjoy taking part in such activities. You walked over to the tv, and turned it on.

"I'm sorry, but I need to do some not fun house errands, but you enjoy yourself," You said pointing at the tv.

Bucky didn't need a tv. He had more than fun enough simply looking at you. He sat down in the couch as he watched you disappear into our room. His eyes went on to the tv screen. No matter what was on the tv had no chance up against you. The second you walked out of your room, ten minutes later, his eyes were attached to you. Your hips were swinging so gracefully across the floor, even with your hands full of clothes. You walked into a small cabinet, with a washing machine and dryer. You began to place your clothes in it.

Bucky couldn't help but let his thoughts run wild. Your bum, were perfectly showcased in front of him every time you kneeled to place clothes inside. How he wished he could just stand right behind you, feel you against him. You turned on the machine. Ah, if he could just take your hand, turn you around and have you at the top of the machine. Those vibrations would've made you go wild. You turned around, facing him, leaning slightly up against the machine. Were you testing him?

"You okay?" You laughed, looking confused over at James who seemed to be deep in thought. His eyes bore in to your soul.

Bucky suddenly looked up at you, when you pulled him back to reality.

"Yeah, I just... The tv- show is really boring," He lied as an excuse to cover up his own lie. You looked back at him, slightly nodding your head laughing. You walked over to him, leaned down to grab the remote.

You must be testing him. You stood right in front of him. He was just meters away of your beautiful display. He swallowed low. This couch seemed perfect for other activities than staring at a screen. You could've been laying in it, with less clothes in it. Bucky watched as you moved away, after putting on another tv-show for him, not that he cared. You walked behind the couch, and tapped your fingers at it.

"Not as good as The Office, but Seinfield isn't bad either," You said smiling, no idea that it wasn't the tv-show bugging Bucky's mind.

It was you. You, and your every move. Bucky watched as you walked into the kitchen as you began to cut up some herbs. He studied the way you held the knife, so firm. He swallowed low. He couldn't help but think about the moment you dropped the knife at your parents place. How the two of you had gone at it in their kitchen. Perhaps that was the greatest revenge of them all.

You put the herbs into another white bowl, mixed in some spices as you swirled your spoon around. You cleaned your hands, good girl. You were always so clean. Proper. He watched as you dried your hands, and dipped your fingertips in it to taste it. It looked white, and it laid on your lips. Perfectly, dripping down. You didn't even seem to notice in the pleasure of the taste. Bucky didn't even notice that you were looking over at him, so far deep into your lips he was.

"What's going on, you even have your back to the tv now?" You asked laughing.

Bucky didn't know how to answer. You might be clean, but Bucky... He had very dirty thoughts.

"Come here," He whispered, but loud enough for you to hear him.

You grabbed a bag of crips, as well as the dip you had made and walked over to him. He had been behaving kind of weird since the second you came in to your apartment. Perhaps it was a bit your faut too. You had kind of just dumped him in the couch but it was also no other way he was going to work efficient with you either. You sat down beside him.

"You my friend," Bucky smiled weakly, leaning over to you as he slowly wipe the white of your lips and taste it.

"Have food dripping down your lips," Bucky said.

You felt your cheeks burning up. That was rightfully a bit embarrassing. You wished you could just close your eyes, but it was difficult doing so with the person sitting right in front of you. You smiled lightly, brushing your finger around your lips to secure you didn't have more. James began to laugh.

"I got it," He said, taking your hand.

You nodded, grateful for his efforts. It was still one question, running around your mind.

"Why were you staring at me the whole period though? Before I even entered the kitchen?" You asked, confused.

Bucky looked into your eyes. He moved his body towards your side in the couch so you had his full attention when you asked your question. Now Bucky had a choice. He could lie. He could just make up some gibberish for you to hopefully bite on, or he could be honest. He rested his head on his hand as he looked deep into your beautiful eyes.

"I find it hard, looking at you, without seeing all the ways we could pleasure each other," Bucky whispered into the depth of your searching eyes.