Captain America Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Steve Rogers Fan Fic - The Constant

Chapter Forty-Two:The Constant & Winter Soldier - The Mirror

The Constant & Winter Soldier - The Mirror

He is there when you return to your room. It has been a long day; he has been training and you have been running schedules. You are tired. This is only your third day together. He still does not know you yet.

Strangely, he is sitting on the edge of your bed instead of his own. You wonder if something is wrong. You approach him. He watches you and smiles. It is not a nice smile, it is a smile that makes you go cold to your very bones.

You want to turn and run...but what is the use. Where would you go? Nowhere.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him. When he is in these moods you can't read him; can't predict what he is going to do. He pulls you down to him and kisses your lips hard, then turns you around so you are sat between his legs, perched on the edge of the bed. He moves back slightly so you don't fall off. His grip is strong.

You're confused. What game is he playing now? Why sit here?

And then you look up and realise.

Opposite on the wall is the full length mirror. He is watching you to see your reaction. Your eyes meet his.

"Please don't," you say, the tiredness showing in your voice.

He lifts your plait and brings it forward and releases your hair, running the end of it down his cheek, watching you the whole time. He lets your hair go.

He has trapped your legs by putting his ankles over yours. You try to rise but he won't let you. He moves the hair away from your neck and kisses you, then nips you and you feel the familiar stirring low down in your stomach.

If only you could hate him.

If only you didn't have that knot of want for him in the pit of your stomach.

"Please," you repeat. "I'm tired."

He looks up at your reflection in the mirror.

"You said you were always here for me," he whispers in your ear, using your own words against you, and then bites gently and his right hand slides up your leg under your skirt.

What can you say? Nothing. You are beginning to lose yourself already to his touch.

Your skirt is short and he pulls it up so he can see your suspenders. He also wants to see the star he marked you with, the one he saw earlier, the one that means you belong to him and only him. In the mirror you watch his eyes looking at you, looking at your body as he uncovers it. His eyes are difficult to read. Is he just playing with you?

His metal hand unbuttons your blouse and then disappears inside, and he moves the material away so he can see your bra. He pushes the strap down and releases your breast. His hand closes over it and you feel the coldness of the metal; it makes your nipple hard and you want to groan.

His other hand strokes the soft flesh at the top of your leg, outlining the star, and then works its way down the fabric of your pants.

"Look in the mirror," he whispers - but you don't. Slowly the metal hand squeezes and you feel the pain. "Look in the mirror."

You give in. You always do when it comes to the Winter Soldier. He is looking at you, directly into your eyes. The fabric of your pants is damp and his hand moves up the material to the top, you want him to stop but you also want him to continue.

Slowly his fingers draw the material down and he readjusts his seating so he can get his hand in further. His legs draw yours wider. His metal hand relaxes its grip on your breast. You know he can feel everything with that hand and he starts to gently roll your nipple between two of the fingers.