𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼 [2]

9. {Dirty Moves}

James Barnes couldn't have been more infuriatingly, fucking wrong.

What an idiot he was to entertain even for a second the notion that he and his sodding work partner would get along during their Toronto mission—or ever, for that matter! She was the devil incarnate! Never had he felt such an intense desire to simultaneously murder and yet fuck the lights out of someone like he did with Y/N.

Those three days were a living hell. The moment the clock ticked down on their mission to safeguard some diplomats at a summit event in Toronto—whose names he couldn't care less about—it was as if their brief moment of camaraderie during the run had never existed. She refused to listen; he countered every argument. Hell, she even landed a solid punch on his arm with surprising force, leaving him certain it would leave a mark. The temptation to return her anger in kind pissed him off further.

Was it her that pissed him off to no end, or was it simply their inability to work together? Never had he been more grateful to touch down back in New York, eager to retreat home and avoid her—and everyone else—for the next four days, seeking respite. Of course, they still managed to succeed in their mission, as they always did, yet Bucky almost found himself wishing they had failed just to prove they couldn't function as a team. Perhaps his frustration stemmed from the fact that the Toronto mission didn't conclude like the one in Arizona. This time, their anger toward each other was more evident, more intense. He recognized that familiar fire in her eyes when she had yelled at him to shut the fuck up about something. In fact, he might have done so and forced her to shut the fuck up too with his mouth, but they weren't alone at that moment.

No sooner had Barnes slammed his apartment door shut, dropped his duffle bag, and stormed into his bedroom, it was no surprise what he planned for next. Gods, he loathed how she could unravel him like this, mentally, physically, and yes, sexually frustrated. Yet despite it all, all he craved right then was her—here in his room with him—so he could demonstrate just how deeply she infuriated him.

As he paced into the ensuite to switch on the shower, thoughts of her filled his mind like a relentless storm. Her fiery defiance, the way she challenged him at every turn—it ignited a fierce longing within him, a desire to conquer her in more ways than one. He remembered the heated moments, the clash of wills that left them both seething. They weren't just colleagues; they were adversaries, constantly at odds yet somehow inseparable in their shared mission successes.

Bucky stepped under the warm spray of the shower and the heat from the water did little to quell the intensity of his thoughts. Images of Y/N flashed through his mind—her determined eyes, the way she moved with purpose, even the sharp tone of her voice echoing in his ears. It was maddening how she could rile him up so effortlessly

He leaned his hands against the tiled wall, letting the water cascade over his tense muscles. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out everything except the sensation of the water washing over him. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't shake the memory of their arguments, the heated exchanges that had left him on edge throughout the mission.

Frustration and desire intertwined within him, a volatile mix that demanded release. With a heavy sigh, he turned his thoughts to more primal instincts, letting his mind drift to the image of Y/N—her tousled hair, her lips parted in defiance or maybe something more. He cursed under his breath, hating himself for how much she affected him, for how deeply he craved her despite their tumultuous interactions.

A hand lowered from the tiles, downwards to his clear arousal at the images of her and soon the steam-filled bathroom echoed with the sound of his ragged breaths, the rush of water, and the rhythmic thud of his movements. Every touch, every stroke, was a silent rebellion against the turmoil she stirred within him. He focused on the sensation, on the need for relief, letting his mind blur into a haze of raw desire.