Exposed

Summary: While on a mission, you and Bucky are overrun, and the communication between you and the Avengers is lost.
Word Count: 3,789 [so many]
Warnings: Mention of past emotional abuse / trauma to the reader, praise!kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content that borders on rough sex
Author’s Note: I have absolutely no idea where this came from. Thank you @climbthatmooselikeatree & @captain-rogers-beard for your amazing beta assistance.

My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.

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“God damn it,” you snarled, pushing another mag into your gun. “We’re completely exposed.”

Steve’s voice erupted in the comm. “I can’t get through. There’s too many of em.”

Bucky was suddenly beside you, blood dripping from his vibranium fingers, a wild look in his eyes. “This way,” he ordered, reaching for you.  

“Get down,” you screamed, thrusting your arm over Bucky’s right shoulder and squeezing the trigger.

Bucky ducked as the bullets whizzed past, spinning around to face the oncoming gunfire, a feral yell spilling from his lips. He raised his weapon and returned fire before barrelling towards the bushes. You were right next to him, emptying two more mags as the pair of you brought down another wave of HYDRA agents.

“- say – thing!” It was Sam, but the connection was full of static.

“I can’t hear you, Sam,” you said slowly, hoping that you could time it with each burst of static.

Steve’s voice was next. “- jet – down. Can’t – it.”

“Fuck.” Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you after him. “There’s a place we can hide,” he announced. “Come on.”

You were barely able to keep up, feet catching on various foliage, but Bucky’s hand was tight on yours, yanking you along. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up the brutal pace. Besides, there were agents in pursuit. You had nowhere else to go.

“Almost there,” he yelled.

“Pick me up,” you ordered. “Over your shoulder.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He pivoted on his feet, wrapped an arm around your waist, and slung you over his shoulder like you were a bag of dog food, resuming his race towards whatever shelter he had previously found.

With your hand on the small of his back, you pushed, locked your elbow, and started firing. It wasn’t the best way to do things, but it was better than nothing. The agents fell to the wayside, but it took entirely too much ammo.

“I’m out,” you shouted, shoving your gun into the holster on your hip. Thankfully, the last bullet took out the last agent, for now.

Bucky careened to his right at the last possible second, releasing you from his grip at the same time. You slid from his shoulder, rolling out of the fall like you were tumbling at the gym. You shot up and ran after him, crying out happily at the sight of a cabin. Sure, it was rundown and had seen better days, but it was someplace the pair of you could wait for the rest of the team.

The door slammed behind you, a chair lodged under the knob, and Bucky ran down the hall, secured the back door in the same manner all before you could catch your breath. He tore off his jacket and the bulletproof vest Steve had made him wear, bullets dropping to the floor like loose change.

“You alright?” he panted, though he wasn’t nearly as out of breath as you.

You could only nod as you gasped for air. It wasn’t that you weren’t in great shape, you were, but all the adrenaline and the impromptu three mile dead run was taking its toll. He went into the kitchen and found a glass, turned on the water, and washed it. Thankfully, the water was clear. Hell, even if it wasn’t, you might have drained the glass anyway.

“Thanks,” you rasped.

After your third glass, Bucky grabbed your glass and filled it again, only he didn’t hand it to you. It was his turn to empty the glass quickly. His eyes roamed around, searching, looking for anything that might be used as a weapon or maybe he was looking for a weak point in the structure that the agents could use should they find your location.

Shifting on your feet, you pulled off your gear and set it on the counter.

“Steve, can you hear me?” you tried your comm, even though you had heard the last burst of static, knowing that whatever had happened, all communication between you and the Avengers had been cut off.

“Won’t help,” Bucky murmured. “Can’t hear us.”

“I figured that out, Buck,” you snapped, dragging a hand over your sweaty face.

Bucky pushed away from the counter and stormed out of the room. There was a door slamming in the back of the cabin that made you jump. Sighing heavily, you filled the glass and drained it, peering out the small, dirt-smudged window. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, but by the time your eyes snapped back into focus, the sun had started to dip lower on the horizon.

“It’s gonna get dark soon,” you announced loudly, thinking Bucky was still out of the room.

“I’ll take first watch,” he said, so close that you yelped and jumped.

You spun around to face him, hand on your chest, eyes wide with panic. “Christ, Buck,” you murmured.

He shook his head and backed away, hands held up. “Sorry. There’s a bathroom and bedroom in the back. It’s got clean towels, clothes. Some should fit you.”

You watched as Bucky turned and walked away, his shoulders tightening, metal hand balled into a fist, and it made you feel like shit. Without another word, you strode into the bathroom and slammed the door. Not even caring if it was warm or not, you turned on the water, ripped off your clothes, and stood under the stream of water, watching as blood – not yours, thank God – and dirt swirled down the drain.

You’d been working with the Avengers for over two years, no special powers or abilities, but you turned out to be one badass with a weapon; put anything in your hands and you could kill with it. They had been helping you hone your skill, become an assassin of sorts, but you worked for the good guys, so it was a wash, right?

Bucky had just been deprogrammed and given a clean bill of health when you met him last year, and Steve thought it might be a good idea to have you pair up, train together, work through your similar issues together. While Bucky had been a puppet for HYDRA, you were dealing with having suffered from extreme mental abuse at the hands of your husband. It had gotten so bad that you were one second away from taking your own life. And then, out of nowhere, Steve entered the picture and saved you.

Dried off and wearing a pair of baggy sweats and long sleeved shirt, you were surprised at how clean the bed was. You were expecting dusty, moth-eaten blankets, but they weren’t. You dropped onto the pillows with a sigh and threw your arm over your eyes. Since the adrenaline was long gone, you should have been tired enough to fall asleep, but for some reason, your body was still buzzing, your mind still racing.

You sat up on the edge of the bed and hung your head, your damp hair hanging in your face. You weren’t going to get to sleep anytime soon, so you pushed up and walked out of the room. You found Bucky, sitting on the couch, legs propped up onto a table, his head lolled back. He sat up as soon as you stepped into the room, the board under foot creaking, and he had a gun aimed at your head.

It took a split second for him to realize it was you. “Shit, Y/N. I… I’m sorry.”

“I… no, don’t be,” you stammered, your heart thundering in your chest.

His head fell back and he pinched the bridge of his nose, dropping the gun onto a small table next to the couch. “Scared me.”

You sat on the other end of the couch, your legs tucked under you, hands in your lap, fingers toying with a loose string. “If you, uh, if you want to sleep, I’ll take watch.”

Even though he yawned, he shook his head. “Can’t sleep.”

“Me either,” you lamented.

You tried to look anywhere but at Bucky, but it more difficult than it sounded. He was so… stunning. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges, okay, a lot, but he had such a pure heart, he really did. Of all the evil things HYDRA had him do, Bucky was still able to hold onto his humanity, his soul, and for that, he deserved a god damn medal.

“Hey,” you murmured. “You change the sheets?”

If you weren’t mistaken, Bucky smiled. “Didn’t think you’d want to sleep in a pile of dust.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky turned to look at you, his eyes piercing through you. “You’re welcome, doll.”

You were surprised when he didn’t look away. He wasn’t much for eye contact, especially with a woman, but there he was, looking at you as if it were for the first time, and it took your breath away, made you shift in your seat, made crimson color your skin.

With a shy chuckle, you looked down at your hands. Two years was a long time to go without touching another human being, let alone a male, and that didn’t include training and fighting, that was completely different. Besides, if you were being honest with yourself, it was a lot longer than two years. It had been two years since Steve killed your husband, but the last time your husband said he was no longer sexually attracted to you was five years before that.

“What’s’a matter?” Bucky asked, voice low and calm, as if he were going to scare you.

You wiped away a tear and stared hard at your finger, wondering when in the hell that started. “No- nothing.”

Bucky pulled his legs off the table and sat sideways on the couch, facing you, left knee pushed into the back cushion, arm draped over the couch. “You can tell me, Y/N. I won’t… judge, or anything.”

“How much, uh,” you started, your throat thick. “God, this is going to sound so egotistical. How much has Steve told you about me?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Not much,” he admitted. “Just said you were in a shitty place in your life.”

“He tell you that he killed my husband?”

Bucky nodded at that. “But if Cap’s gonna kill a guy, he must have had a damn good reason.”

“True,” you huffed, still unwilling to look Bucky – the man that you found wildly attractive – in the eye.

“Take your time,” he assured you, hand coming to a stop on your knee and giving it a squeeze.

So you did. It took a long stretch of time before you could even utter the horrors of what you had survived, and they were nothing compared to the missions you worked with your team. Those were on another level, something you could compartmentalize, shove into a box and lock it away, deep in the recesses of your mind. But mental abuse? That was a different ballgame entirely.

“My uh, my husband was abusive,” you divulged, and it came out in a rush. “Not physically, as if that makes a difference.”

You didn’t miss the way Bucky’s hands flexed or the way his shoulders quirked. “How long?”

“Long as we were together. Well, not in the beginning, but that’s how they get you, huh? Lay it on nice and thick, get you right where they want you, and then, WHAM, start tearing you down brick by brick.” You scraped a shaking hand over your face, wiping away the tears that started to fall.

“And no one did anything?” Again, the flexing of his hands, which was sort of hypnotic.

You shook your head. “Nah, he had everyone convinced that he was a good guy, that he was going to take care of me for the rest of my life, that we were a perfect couple,” you you said bitterly.

Bucky slid closer, until his knee was pressing into yours, but he didn’t say anything. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he knew you wanted to get everything off your chest.

You told him about the time when the two of you were newlyweds and you were at the local grocery store. Someone came up to you – turned out to be a guy you went to high school with – and he started talking, seeing how you were doing after a handful of years, asking a bunch of questions.

“God, he was so mad,” you scoffed.

“What happened?”

Your eyes filled up with fresh tears. “He reminded me who I belonged to, that no one else wanted me. He ‘reminded me’ until I couldn’t walk for two days.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed as anger coursed through him. “He hit ya?”

“No,” you choked out, a hand over your mouth, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Jesus,” he snarled. Without warning, he pulled you into him, your legs draped over his, a hand buried in your hair, the other working up and down your back. You melted into him, trying to curl in on yourself as you cried, wetting his shirt with your tears.

You latched your arms around his neck, dug your nails into his skin and cried, mourning the loss of the child that you were and the life that had been ripped away from you. Bucky hauled you into his lap so you were straddling his thighs, and he held you while you cried, rocking gently, whispering hushed reassurances in your ear.

“What did I do?” you cried. “In a past life, I must’ve done… some… something.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple. “Baby girl, no,” he argued gently. “You did nothing wrong, I promise. It was all him. He was the one that fucked everything up.” You didn’t believe him, you couldn’t, not after hearing the exact opposite for seventy-five percent of your life, but Bucky wasn’t going to give up.

He took your face in his hands and swept away the tears with his thumbs. “Y/N, you…,” his pupils did this weird thing where they blew out, making his already oceanic eyes turn darker, “you are an amazing woman. You’re kind, and gentle, and smart, and wickedly talented. Not just with a gun, but in everything you do. And it kills me that you don’t see any of it, but what kills me the most is that you don’t see -” his voice broke under the realization of what he was about to say.

“What, Buck?” you rasped. “What don’t I see?”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “Me, Y/N. You don’t see me.”

You about choked on a sob when he said that. “Buck, I do see you.” And just like that, the tables turned.

Bucky closed his eyes and shook his head, his hair falling into his face. “Not the way I see you,” he admitted under his breath.

Your heart stuttered painfully in your chest when he said that. You could tell him that you had seen him since the very first day, the raw emotion on his face, the fear he held that he would hurt someone, even on accident, that he was a threat to the entire team, that he was not to be trusted; you saw all of it, and more. You saw the love that he was capable of giving if someone were to stick with him through the valleys among the mountains.

Bucky wasn’t a monster, he was an angel.

Just like you, he wouldn’t believe it, he needed to be shown, not told. Pulling in a shaky breath, you leaned in and brushed your lips against his. His eyes flew open, but he didn’t pull back, he just… stared at you, trying to see if what was happening was real. The fear that he would push you back was knocked away. You closed your eyes and tipped your head, sighing at the way his chapped lips scraped yours in the process. In that moment, his demeanor completely changed.

Bucky drove his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, moaning at the way you kissed him back. It was passionate and had a sense of urgency to it, as if he would die if he didn’t get to kiss you. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on the chestnut strands, earning a nice growl in the back of his throat. He grabbed the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt and yanked it off, throwing it to the floor as if it offended him. At the sight of your bare breasts, Bucky honest-to-goodness whined in appreciation, and it drove a shudder down your spine that rolled your hips.

With his help, you returned the favor of removing his shirt. Yeah, you had seen him shirtless hundreds of time, but those were at the compound while you sparred. Right then, he was exposing the one thing that made him insecure and, in his eyes, less human, less deserving. You traced the dark pink scars with your nails and fingertips, smiling softly before bending down to press a kiss against the puffed skin.

You weren’t sure if the choking sound Bucky made was because no one had ever dared show him such compassion, or for another reason, whatever it was, you liked it. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up, kissing you fiercely, possessively as his other hand worked down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, and into the front of your pants. You reared back as the cool metal of his hand slid between the slick folds of your pussy.

“Jesus, doll,” he purred. “This all for me?”

You gripped the back of the couch as you rocked your hips, throwing your head back at the way his fingertips teased your hole. “Bucky,” you whined.

He dipped his head and pressed kisses to your neck, along each collar bone, and finally to each breast. While lavishing them with attention, he continued to stroke you, your slick covering his metallic digits, his fingers never fully entering you, just enough to drive you crazy with desire. You were just about to demand that he do something when his middle finger pushed deep inside you.

“Yes,” you hissed, your back arching, your hips rocking.

Bucky bit down on your breast, just shy of your nipple, pulling blood to the surface without breaking the skin. He stroked you lazily before pushing in another finger, the pad of his thumb seeking out your clit.

Panting, you looked at him and begged to be fucked. “Please, Buck. I need you,” you almost wept.

He surged up and gave you a bruising kiss as he pumped his fingers, dragging them deliciously against your already fluttering walls, scissoring them, stretching you, preparing you for his cock. When you ripped your mouth away to breathe, to address the fact that you were going to come, he sat back and watched.

“That’s a good girl,” he moaned. “Such a fuckin’ sight, watchin’ you come, baby. I got’chu,” he vowed, fucking you furiously with his fingers.

At his words, the coil in your gut snapped and you came with a cry of his name, your nails tearing into the cushions, your knuckles – along with your vision – gone white. It was the first orgasm you’d had – not by your own hand – in the last seven years, and fuck, it was intense, so naturally, you whined when Bucky’s fingers left you.

“It ain’t over, doll,” he smirked, holding you to his chest as he stood and carried you into the bedroom. He laid you down, pulled off your pants, then his, and then he was crawling up your body, pulling in a deep breath when he buried his nose in your short curls.

“Shit, I could spend all fuckin’ night here,” Bucky said, his tongue darting out to savor you. “Taste so good, baby girl, but I bet you feel even better.”

You were whimpering as he dropped kisses to your stomach and breasts, his tongue and teeth teasing your nipples, tugging on them, sending a jolt of pain through you. Unable to wait much longer, you grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him savagely, notching your thigh on his hip at the same time.

Bucky reached down and spread the wide head of his cock against your pussy, coating himself with your arousal, and then, with a twitch of his hips, he was pushing into you, stretching you around his thick cock. You had no doubt in your mind that Bucky would have been proportionate, but shit, he spread you to the point that you weren’t sure you were going to survive.

“It’s okay, doll,” he purred into your ear. “You can take it.” With a shuddering exhale, you nodded, nails digging into his skin, spilling his blood until his pelvis touched yours.

Hot breath blasted against your neck. “So… fuckin’… tight,” he praised, his shoulders shaking as he forced himself not to move.

“Slow, Buck,” you told him, your voice small and thin.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your pulse point and did as instructed, inching himself in and out, again and again until you were begging for him to go faster, harder. The headboard was hitting the wall with every powerful thrust of Bucky’s hips, his shoulders bowing, the small of his back dipping down, his thighs spread wide, knees digging into the mattress. You weren’t going to make it much longer, and neither was Bucky, not if the way his hips just faltered had anything to say about it.

You snaked a hand between your bodies and worked at your clit, sending you screaming into the abyss as you came unraveled. Bucky let loose a feral snarl as he bent down and sucked hard on your shoulder, his teeth dangerously close to piercing your skin as he marked you, claiming you as his. He came a handful of sloppy thrusts later, driving his hips down, burying himself to the root as his cock swelled and twitched, sending an aftershock through you, making you gasp.

Bucky’s mouth sealed over yours and he held you to him as he rolled to his side, dragging your thigh over his hip, keeping your bodies locked together for as long as possible. After kissing you languidly, he rested his forehead against yours, his fingers carding through your damp hair.

“What?” you chuckled, feeling self-conscious under his gaze.

“I need you, too,” he murmured, breath hot against your lips, heart hammering in his chest.

Tears filled your eyes at the realization that no man had ever said they needed you. Wanted you, yes, but that was completely different than need.

You gave him a small kiss, smiling against his lips, and promised, “Well then. It’s a good thing you’ve got me.”

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