The Sharpest Lies [Bucky x ReaderxSteve]

Seven

The sound of knocking pulls you from sleep, making you groan and press your face against the arm under you. There's a low rumbling sound from behind you before the arm gently withdraws and a pair of lips brush lightly over your shoulder. Sighing, you stretch a little before your brain finally catches up and you remember that you had fallen asleep with Bucky last night.

Garrett had left on some kind of boys trip to Vegas, ditching out on your potential New Years Eve plans. You were disappointed, until you'd walked out of work and found Bucky waiting for you at the curb. Leaning casually against his town car, looking like sun and sex poured into a custom Italian suit. He'd whisked you to his private estate in the city, wined and dined you, and rounded off the night with mind blowing sex that left you like a puddle of boneless goo in his arms.

Steve is already stepping into the room when you sit up with a sharp gasp, pulling the silk sheets up to cover your chest. He smirks in your direction while Bucky shuts the door.

"Do you know what time it is?" Bucky asks.

"Sure thing," Steve answers, pulling his eyes away from your blushing form to focus on Bucky instead. "But there's a problem with—"

Steve cuts himself off, flicking his eyes back to you, unsure if he should be talking about business in front of you. Bucky glanced at you for a moment before saying, "It's fine, Steve, I'm not planning on hiding anything from her. You can speak openly."

Steve hesitates for a moment longer before shrugging. Sure, you were a pretty dame, and he'd take a taste if he was given the chance. However, he always felt like there was a difference between keeping a woman and sharing things she may be too delicate to handle. But, if Bucky wanted you privy to everything, that was his prerogative and it wasn't Steve's place to try and counter it.

Bucky's eyebrow lifts. "Well?"

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Steve says, "There's a problem with Zemo. Or rather Zemo is insisting there is a problem in our house that we need to take care of before he decides to end our arrangement."

"A problem? What kind of problem does the Baron know about in our house that I don't? Or you for that matter?" Bucky asks, arms crossing over his chest. 

Steve sends another sidelong glance in your direction, seeing your face is a mask of confusion and that the sheet you loosely wrapped around your chest is falling down. Bucky clears his throat, slightly amused at Steve's distraction but wanting to get on with this. Steve looks back to him. "Apparently there's a strong rumor that one of the new bartenders at the club is double timing."

"For who?"

"Uncle Sam."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bucky mutters a string of curses under his breath before heading to the closet to change. "Alright, we'll handle it. Why don't you go wake Sam and get him to–"

"He's already getting the car," Steve says, trying his hardest not to look in your direction again. He fails miserably, the pull to you just too strong. The sheet has slipped even further down, you were definitely pretty. No wonder Bucky was so far gone over you.

Bucky pulls on a pair of slacks, slipping a shirt on and buttoning up while he climbs the two steps up to where you are in his bed. Sitting down in the side, he reaches out and brushes a hand down your arm before leaning in to give you a long, lingering kiss. Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours and says, "I'm gonna have to go and take care of things."

"You aren't just a regular businessman, are you Bucky?" you ask for the first time.

Bucky gives you a half smile. "No, I'm really not. Does that bother you?"