Iron Bloodlines

It would've been so damn easy

Elise's POV:

I don't even know how I made it home. The drive is a blur—nothing but the hum of the engine and the faint flicker of streetlights overhead. I couldn't tell you if I stopped at the lights, if there were even cars around me, or what path I took through the city. None of it mattered. Not tonight.

All I can focus on is Bucky.

The way he looked at me in the bathroom back at the compound, his eyes intense, dark with something more than just need. That moment when he stepped closer, closing the distance like he was claiming it, claiming me. And then, his lips—God—his lips on mine, like they never meant to leave. I can still taste him, lingering on me, the faint hint of mint, maybe a trace of coffee, but more than anything, it's just him.

His scent clings to my skin, a mix of pine, leather, bourbon, and a hint of gunpowder. It's intoxicating, seeping into my senses, like I'm still pressed against him, like he's still here. I can feel the ghost of his touch, the way his hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, the way my body responded without hesitation, like it was meant to fit against his.

I barely realize I'm gripping the steering wheel too tight, my knuckles white from the pressure. I exhale shakily, forcing myself to ease up, but my heart still pounds, racing with the memory of him.

I pull into the underground parking lot of my apartment complex, but even then, the world around me feels distant. Bucky is still there, in my mind, in my every breath.

When I get up to my apartment, the door barely shuts behind me before I toss my keys onto the kitchen counter with a clatter. I don't even bother with the lights. The dim glow from the city outside is enough as I make my way to the bedroom, my thoughts still completely tangled up in him.

I shrug off my jacket, letting it fall carelessly onto the chair by the door, and then collapse onto the bed, burying my face into the cool sheets. I can't escape it—the scene in the bathroom replays over and over in my mind, like a loop I don't want to stop. The way his eyes locked on mine across the table earlier, that heated intensity building between us. Every look, every touch—it was electric.

And then, in the bathroom, the way he moved toward me—so sure, so confident. My pulse quickens as I remember him corralled me towards the door, how his hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers gently gripping my hair. He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze, and for a second, it was like everything around us disappeared. Just him and me, his breath warm against my skin, his presence overwhelming.

The familiar warmth begins to build low in my belly, spreading through me in waves. I can't remember the last time I felt like this—this alive, this wanted. Every nerve in my body tingles, still on edge from his touch.

As I lie on my bed, my mind begins to swirl with a torrent of memories, each one featuring the one and only person who has ever been able to elicit such a response from me.

Bucky.

Of course, of all times, my mind would choose now to flood me with these recollections, leaving me feeling both frustrated and achingly aware of the prolonged absence of such sensations. I can feel the wetness beginning to pool between my thighs, a physical manifestation of the longing that has been building within me for what feels like an eternity. It's been far too long since I've felt this way, and try as I might, I can't seem to shake the memories of Bucky and the way he used to make me feel.

My mind is filled with memories of the way he used to hold me, his strong arms encircling my waist and pulling me close, making me feel safe and loved in a way that I had never known before.

I can still feel the warmth of his breath against my neck, the gentle brush of his lips against my skin, and the way my heart would race at the mere thought of being in his arms. And then there are the memories of his kisses, soft and tender at first, before growing more passionate and urgent. The way our bodies would fit together perfectly, as if they had been made for each other, and the way I would lose myself in the moment, forgetting everything else but the feel of his lips against mine.