Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

64

Bucky woke early the next morning.

He wasn't sure if it was the way the bright morning peeked through the curtain, a ray of sunshine directed over him and heating up his skin, but once he was awake, he found it difficult to go back to sleep.

Then once he shuffled around, finding Uxolo curled up beside him, face turned a bit into her pillow, Bucky realized he'd lost all chances of getting more rest. He grew distracted by her immediately.

It wasn't unusual that they grew physically farther apart in the night. He was a living, breathing furnace, and while that constant heat was nice for cuddling and relaxing, he doubted she'd take much comfort in sweating through her bed sheets.

A slow smile crept on Bucky's face as he took in the sight of her, delicate face squished against her pillow, bonnet-covered hair fluffed around her like some kind of halo.

The back of his index finger caressed her cheek, cupping her jaw and smoothing along her chin in a single connected movement. It wasn't long before her eyelids rose to reveal the honey-toned eyes that made him fall apart every time, almost more than when she smiled at him as she was now.

"Good morning, Bucky."

"G'mornin', gorgeous." He pushed closer to her, shuffling across the bed until he could rub their noses together. Bucky's hands snaked underneath her sleep-shirt, thumbs soothing circles on her back. " 'guess we're stayin' inside today?"

Her fingers tangled in his soft hair to keep him close to her—fingernails scratching his scalp. The delightful sensation had Bucky shuddering against her. His eyes closed briefly as tingly chills ran down his spine before they opened to be met with an even more breathtaking smile on her face.

"I'd like that."

****

"What are you making?" Uxolo asked. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice her walking up to him. She placed a hand on his metal arm and peeked over his shoulder at the stove top where he was trying to prepare some French toast.

Bread, egg, and cinnamon, how hard could that be?

"Making a woman that takes too much care of me some breakfast for all her troubles." He stated simply.

"Oh?" Uxolo echoed with a barely contained grin.

Bucky smiled as he whipped around quickly and hoisted her up by the waist to set her on the kitchen island. She laughed, managing to wrap her arms and legs around him. She released her grip on him once she was set firmly on the kitchen island.

Both still smiling, the air stilled as they realized their faces were dangerously close. Uxolo was first to move, she reached forward and placed his cheeks in her hands. His eyes closed as her thumbs rubbed lazy circles on his cheeks and his jaw.

He slipped his metal arm around her, his left hand resting just under her shoulder blades, his other hand grabbing one of hers and bringing it down to press against his chest, his warm fingers resting atop her own.

"Bucky?" Uxolo murmured.

He shifted slightly, the edge of his chin brushing her forehead. "Hmm?"

"Is this always how you make breakfast?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Maybe it is."

She hummed, not at all convinced. He turned his face more inward towards her, brushing his soft, full lips against her temple.

Her knees went weak as he drifted to her cheek, kissing it, then her ear, then the spot below it. His voice kept the same completely innocent tone, but it had dropped an octave or two. "All 'm hungry for is right in front of me."

"I walked into that one," She breathed back in a laugh as his scruff scraped pleasantly along the side of her cheek as he headed for her throat.

He nudged aside the collar of her sweatshirt and pressed slow, hot kisses against the base of her neck one at a time.

He trailed back up until their faces were level again and he licked her mouth open. She lost all sense of reason and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him hard, burying a hand in his thick, dark hair.

He kissed her like he wanted to drink her down like ambrosia. He tasted wonderful. His hands ran up and down her sides over and over until she arched forward to reach him better. He lifted her just slightly to meet him, the kisses growing hotter, messier.

Through these domestic touches, as heavy as they were growing, Bucky hoped he was relaying everything he struggled to voice aloud.

It was a nice feeling, being in and caring for this comfortable, colorful home with Uxolo. Every night before her he'd found some odd comfort in hardwood flooring and a single cushion-less pillow. And now — well, to him at least — he lived like a King.

Bucky slept atop a mattress made of clouds and wrapped himself around the one person he knew he couldn't live without. He dreamed of a future with her, dreamed of showing her his home and exploring the depths of the country that had welcomed him with open arms. He woke to bright, soft mornings, sometimes with kisses pressed to his forehead, sometimes with hands massaging his jaw. He ate like a King, too, stuffed full with all of the varieties Uxolo could manage.

He wanted to say something, maybe thank you for bringing me here or thank you for being here or even thank you for being you. Thank you.

Instead, he just brought his hand up to the back of her neck, pushing in for one final kiss before pulling away to say:

"You 'gon let me cook you dinner tonight, too?"

Once he opened his eyes again, she was already leaning forward to capture him in a hug.
He wrapped his arms around her as she nuzzled into his neck.

"I would love that, Bucky."