Secretive - Bucky Barnes

42 || Shattering

Trigger Warning: If you have difficutlies reading about rape, violence or anything in that direction, skip to the line at the end of the chapter.

[Nova]
»Can't we simply let the meeting slip? There're things I'd rather do.« James hums, his head resting on my thigh with the both of us in my bed. We just watched about three episodes of some crime show together, not that I really have been concentrated, which is why his voice is rather raspy, his head still on my television that hangs above my shelf to our opposite.

How we ended up here? No idea. Perhaps, it was the nice talk we had in the ice cream parlour. Perhaps it have been his dimples. Perhaps it has been the way his laughter lured me in like a spell, wrapping me around his finger, or it has been the bouquet of flowers that greeted me the moment I stepped in my room, a small, white piece of paper contrasting their deep red colour: »To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.« Or perhaps, it has been him having brought his record player beforehand, something I remember from his flat, appearing in the door just to quietly turn on the vinyl of I Could Write A Book by Doris Day. And if this was not enough at all, James came slowly embracing me from behind, his hands turning me around to face him, his diamond eyes seducing me into a slow dance I could never, not for a million dollars, say no to. 

And somehow after we danced through a couple songs on his record, no words spoken nor needed but locked in the maze of each other's soul, we landed – nothing else touching but our hands – on my bed, his head on my thigh, my fingers stroking through his dark-chocolate-coloured, silky-like hair, the show paused.

Sighing, my fingers come to a halt, causing his hands around my upper leg, thumbs drawing small circles, to tighten. Before I even am able to say a word, he buries his face in my jogging pants, inhaling deeply. »We can't. You know that. We've got to make progress. Lord knows how far we're able to go when the others are back.«

With a roll of his eyes, he turns off the television entirely before resting his head on my upper belly, pulling me closer to him. »Fine. But I won't let go.«

Leaving this uncommented, I get the block from below my pillow, some pen from my nightstand. James cocks an eyebrow at the whereabouts of his secret, but does not say a word about it, knowing they are nowhere saver than this close to me. 

He exhales a deep breath when I am ready to begin, his dark hair almost black in the dim light when he rests his chin on my lower stomach to look me in the eyes as intense as possible. I can literally see that what is about to come is going to smash my poor little heart into a thousand tiny pieces, the pity in his eyes already grown to the size of a gentle, calming ocean. »Nova, I've got to tell you something before we start eventually.«

I swallow hard, pulse galloping with fear. Knowing James is extra careful with me, there is something edging to his voice making me nervous. After my nod, he proceeds, »I just want to let you know I feel comfortable around you. Always. There never ever has something happened without my consent. Without my full and entire and present consent. Especially in bed.«

Blinking several times, James's voice rises again in damped notes while my mouth is the one opening at first place to speak. To ask what this is about, but he sees through my like everyone else does through glass. »Look, I know you're going to feel sorry. And I know there is nothing I could do or say that would change this. But I beg you to believe me it was my choice, and I chose to do it willingly, and there is absolutely nothing you need to feel ashamed or guilty for.«

I can see it in his eyes, too, clearer than ever. It is like the letters are written in between the beautiful loops and strings in his stormy irises. I mouth the word soundlessly. »Italy.«