bucky barnes imagines

lxix. ELECTRIC [smut]

You knew it was going to be a long four weeks as soon as Bucky walked through the door. He'd just returned from a mission, which was largely successful – apart from the fact that he was now completely bruised and battered.

Two broken ribs, a sprained ankle and countless painful gashes meant that he was well and truly out of action for the foreseeable future. Even Bruce confirmed it – no physical activities for the next month.

"So no sex?" you'd asked bluntly, with a grimace.

"No sex," Bucky confirmed, followed by a pained sigh that showed he was no happier with the situation than you were.

The first week was bearable, at best. You were distracted by taking care of your injured boyfriend – cooking his meals, helping to clean his wounds, cuddling with him when his lack of mobility was upsetting him. You also had to help him shower, which proved a little more difficult; after all, he was built like a Greek God and one look at him made you want to jump his bones. But still, you managed to restrain yourself.

And then the second week began and Christ on a bike, it was torture.

Things all went downhill on the morning of the ninth day. You woke up earlier than usual, warm and revelling in the comfort of being in Bucky's arms, his bare chest pressed against your back. Deciding to catch a few more minutes of sleep, you attempted to lean further into his embrace – but in doing so, you accidentally wiggled your ass against his crotch and that was all it took before he was hard as all hell, grumbling and cursing and groaning in a way that absolutely soaked your panties.

"Please, you're killin' me over here, doll," he whined, pathetically bucking his hips before wincing as a sharp pain ripped through his side. You sent him a stern look which soon put an end to his begging – clearly, any form of pleasure would still have to wait.

From then on, the torment seemed to worsen. Neither one of you even had to do anything remotely sexual; Bucky could accidentally brush his hand against your thigh, or clench his jaw, or even just look at you with those icy blue eyes of his, and boom, you'd be dripping. There were times when he could practically sense your arousal, and he wanted nothing more than to pin you against the wall and fuck you until you were screaming his name loud enough for all of New York to hear. But he was reduced to gritting his teeth and awkwardly palming himself through his sweatpants.

By the thirteenth day, he couldn't take it anymore.

When you left for an hour or two to train with Nat, by some miracle, he figured out how to access the internet on his phone. A couple of minutes of research and a few clicks later, a message popped up on the screen – your order has been placed.

The next day (because he'd paid for express shipping, obviously, this was an emergency), you walked out of the bathroom in a towel to find a medium sized, light pink box waiting on your bed. Bucky was slouched next to it, smirking at you with a certain smugness that made you suspicious.

"For me?" you asked. He nodded immediately, beckoning you over to sit next to him.

"Open it."

You did. And to say you were shocked was the understatement of the century. Inside the package, swaddled in rich, crimson red tissue paper, was a vibrator. A sleek, black, silicon toy, with a remote by its side.

Instantly, you felt a sticky warmth between your thighs, as your mind conjured rather steamy images of what you'd be doing with this, how it could make you feel. You glanced up at Bucky, only to find him biting his lip, his gaze darkened with sheer lust.

With absolutely no hesitation, you leaned over and kissed him. It was sloppy, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance, but the messiness, the sheer desperation, only turned you on even more.

The towel was ripped from your body and you shivered slightly as the cool air hit your skin. Bucky groaned when you leaned back against the headboard, your legs spread apart, giving him a perfect view of your glistening folds. You grabbed the vibrator, while he kept the remote, quickly turning it on to its lowest setting.

"C'mon, angel, give me a show," he coaxed.

As soon as you moved the toy to your clit, you let out a loud, borderline pornographic whine. The light buzzing sent sparks through your entire body, the overwhelming feeling making your head fuzzy.

"Feels good?" Bucky growled. You could only whimper in response, which prompted him to turn the setting up a notch.

"A-ah, fuck, yes," you gasped, experimentally grinding your hips into the toy, chasing more friction.

Beside you, Bucky couldn't hold himself back any longer; he forcefully kicked off his sweatpants and boxers, leaving him in just his favourite red Henley shirt, his cock flushed red and leaking precum.

He went to wrap a hand around himself, but you stopped him, shuffling closer to him and leaning down until you were balanced on your knees, your ass up and your hand working the toy in circles between your legs.

"Stay still, okay?" you murmured tenderly, a moment of softness and concern punctuating the utterly filthy scene. And then you were sliding your mouth onto his length, taking as much of him as you could while he clutched at the sheets, a relieved hiss leaving his mouth.

Once you began to bob your head on his length, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, Bucky clicked the remote two more times, turning the vibrations up to their highest setting. When you moaned around him, he knew he wouldn't last much longer; his tip was already twitching in your mouth as it repeatedly hit the back of your throat.

You pushed the toy more firmly onto your now throbbing clit, feeling a familiar coil in your stomach as the pleasure built up, wave after wave of intense bliss already washing over you.

He slowly lifted his metal hand to rest on top of your head, giving your hair a harsh tug. That was enough to send you reeling, your orgasm so strong, your legs shook and your eyes clamped shut.

The sight of you pushed Bucky to his release and, with a strained groan of your name, he was spilling down your throat. Just like always, you swallowed every drop with ease, before pulling off of him with a wet pop.

Neither of you spoke for a while; you simply laid together, still panting, bathing in the afterglow. Only when your eyelids began to droop with exhaustion was the silence finally broken.

"How was that?" Bucky whispered, finding your hand and squeezing it gently. You chuckled drowsily, shaking your head.

"Electric."