Krasivaya

Part 10

There was one bed. One bed in this shitty podunk apartment. One fucking bed between you and Bucky, and you were ready to murder Maria and Fury. You were going to claw their eyes out, fuck with their brains so hard they would be begging for mercy.

Nervously fidgeting with the cloak you are wearing, turning a bright red as the images of exactly what you would like to do to Bucky flash through your brain, you groan out loud.

It catches Bucky's attention as he enters the apartment. Following your gaze, he stops dead in his track. "I'll take the floor."

Scoffing, you turn away to hide your embarrassment and red flush of arousal. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't sleep on the floor the entire time we're stuck here." Your voice is quivering.

He seems to contemplate this for a second before he replies with a curt, "Fine." His jaw clenching as some unknown emotion seems to gnaw at him.

You'd been in the air for 24 hours, exhaustion makes itself known in the flagging of your body. You felt disgusting and needed to clean up before you passed out for your eight hours. Grabbing a bag, you move into the bathroom. Crinkling your nose at the manky surroundings, you sigh as you turn on the shower. As you wait for the water to reach a temperature which doesn't mimic frozen arctic, you unzip the bag Steve packed for you, and nearly climb out of your skin.

You were going to murder him. Headlines would read of the fall of Captain America at the hands of the angry Immortal on whom he'd played the worst prank imaginable.

The bastard had packed the sexiest clothing you owned. It was all sheer lace and tight fitting.

Your usual pajamas, comfy and well-worn, were nowhere to be found. Instead, you were stuck with one of Steve's flannel shirts, which hit you mid thigh and barely left anything to the imagination.

That was it. It had finally happened, you were going to kill them all. No questions asked. No bodies would ever be found. You knew, deep down in your soul knew, Nat had some hand in this as well.

Panicked and tired, you try desperately to find any sign of pants that don't cling to your curvaceous form like a second skin. You come up empty handed. Resigned to the fact that you were going to be half naked, sleeping in the same bed as the man you wanted to ride into oblivion, you strip out of your suit and step into the shower, hoping against hope that Bucky wouldn't recoil in horror when you walked out the bathroom.

Donning the dreaded shirt, and zipping up your bag, you give yourself a pep talk. You can do this. It's just flesh. Why would he care?

Fucking Steve. God you hated them all.

Shaking yourself, you open the bathroom door and stride out, looking at your feet and trying to tug the shirt down.

Bucky doesn't seem to notice because as soon as he hears you approach the first word he says are, "We'll set up the equipment in the morning, I'm dead ass tired and I'm..." he trails off, eyes wide as he takes in your half dressed form. "Krasivaya.." his voice pitched low.

You recoil as if stung, knowing for certain he's mocking you. You hear the little voice in your head spews insults while you wait for Bucky to do the same. When did that voice start to sound like... Melissa?

"Where.." he licks at his dry lips. "Where are the rest of your clothes?"

Your heart drops. "Steve packed for me." It's a simple answer, but it's the only one you've got to give. Saying nothing else, you move toward the bed, throwing the covers back and getting in with haste.

Bucky is mumbling to himself, having taken the opportunity to get undressed while you were in the shower. He's wearing nothing but sweat pants, slung low on his hips.

Hysterical laughter bubbles inside you which you fight down. You know you aren't getting any sleep tonight.

He says nothing as he settles beside you, keeping a good distance between you.

You hunch into yourself, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He seems to notice because he sighs and pulls you toward him, pressing his warm chest into your back.

You nearly purr at the contact, getting uncomfortably damp at the feel of his every muscle pressed into you. You squirm slightly trying to alleviate the tension building inside you.

Bucky hisses and snaps. "Lie still. I can't sleep with you squirming."

Embarrassed beyond human comprehension, you settle. While you lay there, exhausted, turned on, so full of anxiety you want to scream, you pray these next two weeks would go by quickly.

You're startled awake by a low moan coming from the man behind you. His very prominent erection is grinding against your ass in the most delicious manner. The shirt you're wearing has been pushed up to below your breasts by Bucky's metal hand which slides lazily down, coming to rest on your pubic bone. Moans fall freely from his lips.

It's the most sinful thing you've ever heard.

You let out a whimper as a particularly hard thrust of his hips widens your legs further. His panty destroying thigh forcing its way between your knees. When his flesh hand sneaks beneath you, wrapping under your torso, it gives you a jolt but it's the sudden grasping of you breast which makes you hiss in pleasure.

As he drives his hips into you, you're lost in a haze of desire, fighting the urge to roll him over and give into every carnal desire. Your hips are rocking back onto him out of their own accord, grinding into the thick rod wedged between your cheeks. Reaching back you grab onto his thrusting back side, feeling the muscles expand and contract as he increases his pace.

His teeth find the pleasure point on your neck, sinking into the flesh.

You moan in earnest, head falling back.

Bucky's mumbling unintelligibly, snippets of Russian phrases making it into your head.

You reach down to your center, desperate to relieve the ache he created, you slip your fingers inside your underwear. It's wrong. So deliciously wrong. You know you need to stop it, but you can't. It's too good. Feels too right. You gasp as your fingers find your clit, circling in time with Bucky's thrusts. You can feel the peak. It's so close, mounting inside you, threatening to overwhelm you with pleasure of it. Arching into Bucky, you whimper, "Bucky please!"

His movements stall.

You hold your breath, thinking he's woken up.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens, metal hand skimming to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs to grant him better access. His thrusts speed up, grunting as his release approaches.

You're right there with him, moaning freely as the coil threatens to snap.

Two more thrusts and he's cumming, moaning low in his throat a, "(y/n)," slipping past his lips.

You gasp as your orgasm overwhelms you, mind caught with Bucky's voice as he moans your name.

He goes limp beside you, his breathing harsh and labored.

Your mind reels, confusion swimming through you. What the fresh fuck just happened? Turning around slowly, Bucky is fast asleep, hair splayed across his face. He's rolled to his back, but his hand is still under you, clinging to your waist. You knew you would never be able to forget this. You would also never be able to look Bucky in the eye again.

He sighs, the sound one of complete happiness, and jerks his arm toward his body, taking you with him.

Locked to his chest, you sigh. Apparently he was as cuddly as Steve.