Insatiable - A Bucky Barnes Collection

Against the Sheets

Bucky Barnes was not the type of man to break a promise.

He couldn't figure out why you didn't believe him. He told you he wasn't going to let you get out of bed for days— and even though he couldn't really keep you there, he was damn well going to try. "So much I need to do to ya. So much I gotta taste."

Okay, maybe he wasn't entirely healed yet. He hadn't been able to remove all of the stitches, and the bruises that had started as a deep purple-blue had faded to nearly yellow. So yeah, lying on his stomach like this hurt a bit— but when you tangled your fingers through his hair, the pain was the last thing on his mind.

He couldn't see your face, but he knew from your muffled moan that your teeth were clamped down over your lower lip. You rolled your hips, rubbing your pussy against his tongue eagerly, which only made his motions slow. It had been far too long since he tasted you, and he intended to take his sweet time.

You gave his hair an impatient tug, and Bucky pulled his mouth away from you altogether. You let out a frustrated groan.

"You're being an asshole," you whined, your voice breathy and utterly wrecked as your chest heaved. Bucky traced his tongue up your slit before replying, smirking at the way you clenched in his wake.

"That's not very nice, sweets," he said, his voice rough like gravel. He exhaled a low, warm breath against your clit and you gasped.

"Please," you begged. "Aren't you tired yet?"

"Never tired of this," he said. And maybe that was true; mentally, he could stay here, between your thighs, for the rest of his life. But as for his body? The wet patch of pre-cum he was leaking against the sheets told a different story.

He attached his lips around your bud but didn't move his tongue, didn't apply any suction— just stayed, warm and wet, so close to being what you needed but so purposefully far.

You tilted your hips toward him again, and a broken whimper escaped your lips when he inadvertently gave you some of the friction you needed. "Please Sarge, you feel so good, c'mon, need you—" You clenched around nothing again, and Bucky shivered.

"D—" Don't, he started to say, but thank god he didn't. Because you knew what that meant. It meant he was getting desperate, getting worked up, losing his cool. And you were almost guaranteed to use it against him— make it worse for him, beg for him, make him climb up there and just fuck you already.

So he stayed quiet. He had the power right now, and he intended to keep it.

But it had been so long. The two orgasms you gave him yesterday had satiated him at the time, but his need had returned full-force this morning. It was worse now, actually, with his face pushed against your heat, your slick arousal coating his lips and dripping down his rough, stubbled chin. Each noise you made, each desperate roll of your hips, made his dick twitch against the white sheets.

And those twitches, that friction, felt good.

It would be okay, he reasoned, his tongue swirling around your clit as he traced his middle finger through your folds. You keened when he pushed his finger inside of you, and he shuddered when his hips bucked forward, rubbing another streak of pre-cum against the sheets. He was just making sure he stayed hard, so he would be ready for you.

Painfully hard. So, so ready.

His index finger joined his middle and he crooked them forward, hitting that spot that made your thighs close on either side of his head. His hips jerked again as pleasure pooled under his skin. Just a few... practice thrusts. It would be fine.

His fingers and hips found a twin rhythm while he worked his mouth over your clit. Every squeeze around his fingers was kindling, every catch of your breath like fuel to the flames— another drop of molten heat in his blood. It spread like wildfire, traveling under his skin at an alarming pace, and soon he was struggling to maintain the same metered speed. He knew what you liked: steady, not too fast and not too slow, just enough pressure to build you up. But he also knew what he liked, at least at this particular moment in time: fast, and rough, chasing his high shamelessly and with abandon. But it was too fast, too good— he could tell by your panting that you were almost there, but so was he.

His hips stuttered but wouldn't quite obey when he tried to slow them. He was too close, too far gone, and when his balls tightened he gasped— he realized too late that he was going to come whether he was ready to or not.

He tried to hide it, tried to stay as still as possible when his abdomen clenched and his cock pulsed, spurting his release against the sheets. But he had to keep his fingers moving, had to keep his tongue going even as he moaned into your cunt and his chest heaved and his muscles shook—

There. Fuuuck, yes. You clenched around his fingers and cried out, your hips lifting off the bed slightly as you came. He licked you through it, quick, gentle flits of his tongue to keep you going through the aftershocks while you both struggled to catch your breath.

"C'mere, Buck," you panted. "Come fuck me, know you need to. Need you." You reached for his shoulders, trying to lure him up your body.

"Just... give me a second," he gasped, as controlled as he could. It would only take him a few minutes to recover thanks to the serum, but for now his spent cock was partially softened, weak in the puddle he had made on the fabric.

You sat up a bit to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't hide it, he was foolish to even try— if he hadn't already come, he'd be fucking you into the mattress by now. You smirked at the way his cheeks turned red.

"Feel good, baby?" You knew, of course you did.

He smiled self-consciously, his eyes aimed down, and kissed your inner thigh. "Sorry," he murmured before he wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

You reached for him again, and he moved up your body, covering you completely. He rested some of his weight on you like he knew you liked, and you kissed him. He smiled; he knew you could taste yourself on his lips when you trembled excitedly.

"Don't apologize," you said against his mouth. "Got days to make up for."

"Weeks," he corrected, falsely, and you grinned.

"We're gonna have to work on that stamina, though." You squeezed his bare ass, making him jolt and huff out a laugh against your neck. "C'mon, let's get up. Help me change the sheets."