Weapons | Bucky Barnes x OC

19. DYING SWAN

Warnings: mentions of Hydra, Russia and a small dialogue in Russian (yes, I'm putting this as tw).
Smut (I miss them together, let me live my Winterwidow fantasy tHIS IS A DAMN SPICY BOOK OKAY😭).
Also dub-con since they don't have full control over their own minds. Angst and mentions of death.
Long ass chapter (+7800).

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Anya fell into such a deep sleep that it didn't even make room for nightmares. It was in an undefined moment in the night when not even she knew what -a dream, a nightmare, a memory, or maybe just her unconsciousness playing tricks on her- but whatever it was, it crept its way from her tiptoes to her back and shoulders, at the nape and side of her neck, descending on her chest and ending its journey in the valley between her breasts.

It entered her through her skin and past her rib cage, puncturing the pericardium and injecting itself into the muscle that pounded blood into the girl's body. Without asking for permission, it took the blood's place, spreading throughout her body.

✪

"Er.. I-I.." Anya suddenly stood up, put on her suit and collected her holsters from the pavement.

"I think this was a mistake." the Winter Soldier said urgently, getting to his feet and pulling up his pants.

"Absolutely." Anya agreed, nodding quickly. "I think it's better if it doesn't happen ever again." words full of embarrassment and her face red in shame, heading for the door.

"It just can't happen again. If anyone finds out, I'll be screwed." approached the girl grabbing her by the arm. "If anyone finds out about our little secret here, I'll have to kill you." he hissed through tight teeth.

"Got it." Anya nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and left the room.

A week had passed now, and the two had done everything to avoid each other. However, as those words repeated themselves incessantly in Anya's mind, she was sure she had heard those sounds, their moans and sighs, every night within those gray concrete walls. When everything was silent, a silence so deep it could pierce eardrums.

But then again, she remembered that it was all in her mind. Of course, it was already too late when her thoughts finally cleared up. Reality usually hit her right after she reached climax, when a terrible awareness swept over her after taking care of the ache in the apex of her thighs. After moving her fingers just like he did, in that sweet and furious way, praising and degrading, possessive and careless all at once.

She had felt like she didn't want him to ever stop. She had felt wrapped around his finger in a way that she would have repeated any animal's call, if he had asked. When she had been a whimpering and beginning mess for him, without a minimum of resistance.

Did she want him? Yes. But was she truly ready in that moment? Or had she simply let herself be carried away by the flow of events? After one kiss, it was hard to stop. Maybe it was that knife that had put her in awe and stirred something in her lower abdomen, or maybe the gun pointed at her temple that had given her goosebumps all over her back as she was on her knees for him.

Mentally she gave herself a stinging slap and shook her head with a sigh. Mentally Anya was cursing him in all the languages ​​she knew, couldn't he keep ignoring her and avoiding her like he had been doing for an entire week? Couldn't he just keep reserving her just a cold, hard, imperceptible nod every time they met?

Anya was currently automatically executing the steps as if she had engaged the autopilot, and Aleksej -a famous Russian pianist who was happy to play sad, intimidating and terrifying symphonies every time Hydra called- was playing a French composer's masterpiece: Le Cygne, from Le Carnaval des Animaux, by Camille Saint-Saëns, aka The Dying Swan.