Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

*34. STEVE: Man of His Word

Words: 2K

Warnings: light smut, dirty talk, language

           

Steve watches out the cockpit window of the jet at the salty ocean below. Bored and tired he sighs aloud—counting down the moments until he'll get to be home again. This mission has been only been a week, but it's still a week too long away from you.

"Take a break, Cap. I've got it up here." Nat flips some switches while her eyes, much more focused and aware than Steve's, shoot across the midnight sky.

"Are you sure?" Steve questions but he's already unbuckling.

"Positive," Nat replies. "Let Y/N know you're on your way home. She'll want an update."

Steve nods. Grabbing his cell phone, he turns and leaves the cockpit. Clint's sitting on the ground just behind him and pops up to steal his chair the moment Steve rises. Steve chuckles and moves farther down the length of the plane. His body aches with every step, but he does well at ignoring it. He can't even begin to fathom the pain he'd be in if not for the serum... there's no way he would've even survived that ten story fall he endured yesterday.

From one of the mini fridges Stark installed in the back Steve grabs a can of Coke. He pops it open, hearing it fizz, then unlocks his cell using your birthdate. You're the only person he's constantly texting, so you're conversation is always at the top of his screen. So he clicks on your name and types out his message:

Hey babe. Should be home in a few hours. Miss you lots.

He closes the app and then wanders into the bathroom. The light automatically flickers on and then he's seeing himself in the mirror—how his beard has grown and his hair untrimmed. He grunts when he realizes he'll have to shave now. You don't like it when he lets it grow.

Grabbing a razor and some soap, Steve gets to work. He taps out the blade and pauses while the jet shimmies. Then he goes again—swiping away tufts of dark hair and watching it run down the drain.

The last time he shaved was before this mission. You'd done it for him, actually. The last morning at home before he left you'd grabbed him after his shower and made him sit so that you could trim away all of those hairs on his face. He'd struggled so hard not to laugh at your silly concentrated face—your tongue poking slightly out of your lips and your eyes narrowed. When you were done you finished with a kiss: a kiss that turned into a lot more very fast since Steve was only in a towel and you were looking damn irresistible in your workout clothes. What started as a chaste peck ended with your bare body pressed forward first against the wall and Steve's hands gripping your firm ass. He'd sucked and nipped and licked your neck while you mewled all sorts of pretty noises for him—noises that he can't shake from his head now while he stares at his half-shaven face in the jet bathroom mirror.

Picking up his phone, Steve sees that you still haven't replied. That's when he decides to send another text.

Thinking about you babe. I can't wait to come home and hold you.

Steve sighs as he sets the phone down once more. He tries to move his mind away from anything too perverse, but every blink brings about a new image of you looking beautiful and so damn sexy.

Dropping the razor, Steve texts you again:

I can't stop thinking about you and your lips on my neck and around my cock. Goddamn, I miss you. I'm sorry I had to leave again. I'm going to make it up to you. I'm gonna fuck you so good and hard, baby. We're gonna go for hours and hours until the sheets are soaked and you can't walk. I promise when I get home I'm not leaving again for a long while. And I promise I'm gonna make you cum so many times that you lose count. I wanna hear you moan and scream for me, princess. I've been missing those pretty sounds all week... God, I wanna fuck you so bad right now.