Touch-starved. Needy. Eager. Responsive.
Bucky Barnes hasn't felt this way since the 40s. He didn't know it was possible- he thought the Hydra experiments did away with this part of him once and for all. His wires were crossed, and desire was a dist...
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"Oh, yeah! Harder!"
Bucky's heart nearly stopped.
"Shit," he muttered as he fumbled with his phone, almost dropping it in his struggle to turn the volume down. The nasally moans echoing through the gym faded until they were gone, and he looked around in a panic, a blush rising to his cheeks.
He tried to take a deep breath. He was alone. He knew no one else was there with him in the basement gym. But he didn't know how the video could go from silent to that fucking loud, and now his hands were shaking and his heart was racing and god fucking damn it, his dick was hard.
Bucky was curious, that was all. After that movie he watched with you, with its tasteful but explicit sex scene, he couldn't help but wonder. Sure, that one video he tried to watch so long ago was too much for him. Too overwhelming, jumping right past arousing and straight to uncomfortable.
But what if... what if other videos weren't like that? What if they were more like that scene the other night that got him so flustered, so horny, that he fucked you into the couch until it skidded across the floor from his force?
He was just curious.
He came down to the gym to work out— honest, he did. But he couldn't get the idea out of his mind, and when he finished his last set he pulled his phone from his pocket and sat down on the weight bench.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, he pulled up the site. The ads plastered across the page were... jarring, but he swiped through the menu anyway, looking at his options. Deciding.
Wake Up Morning Sensual Sex
...That seemed like it might be okay. Bucky hit play.
Kisses. Caresses. Soft touches. A grainy video of a guy and a girl, average looking, the camera set up on their dresser as they undressed. Bucky could see them speaking to each other, but he couldn't hear— no matter how high he turned the volume on his phone, it wouldn't make a sound.
He didn't have too long to worry about that, though. The video quickly got on with the main event, and he held his phone closer to his face as the actor slipped inside his partner, Bucky squinted at the pixels, as if he could force the resolution to improve with willpower alone— he wanted to see the expression on her face, wanted to see the point where they joined, wanted to see the way his muscles rippled as he fucked her.
But when Bucky looked closer, he noticed the little picture of a speaker with an X through it in the corner of the screen. Of course, he thought— it was muted. He tapped it to clear the X, and all hell broke loose.
By the time he got the volume under control, he was breathing heavily. The moans and sloppy wet noises had gone straight to his dick despite his panic, and it was half hard, tenting his gym shorts away from his body. He thought about running back upstairs to you, just for a quickie, something to make the throbbing fullness in his balls disappear, but no— you deserved better than that. You deserved to be warmed up slowly, to be touched how you wanted to be touched. And after what Bucky just saw, he didn't have the patience for that.
