Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is the youngest Senator in New York. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, he’s down to earth, and is deeply in love with his wife; Y/N Barnes. His dreams consist of having kids, helping find a cure for cancer and AIDS in his lifetime, and one day, sitting at a desk in the Oval Office.
It’s good to go after your dreams, right? Not if you’ve got one hell of a secret.
Word Count: 1,634
Warnings: Language, heavy angst, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood and gore, not for the light-hearted.
Author’s Note: GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
It was late by the time Pietro, your driver, pulled the car up to the front door of you home. Thor – yes, that was his given name – one of your bodyguards made his way into the estate first, checking each room on the main floor before allowing you and your husband to enter the residence.
Peter Quill, the second bodyguard, came down several moments after the front door was closed. “Second floor is all clear, Senator, Mrs. Barnes.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Bucky crooned, clapping Thor on the shoulder and nodding at Peter.
Peter moved behind you and was offering to take your jacket.
“You’re not a maid, Mr. Quill,” you scoffed.
“I am not, ma’am,” he agreed with a smirk. “However, I was raised to be a complete and total gentleman.”
You rolled your eyes at the man behind you but slid out of your jacket nonetheless. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
Thor shrugged out of the black suit jacket and loosened his tie. “If there is nothing else, we will retire for the evening.”
“We have absolutely no plans to leave,” you huffed as soon as you stepped out of your heels.
The four of you bid goodnight to one another, then Peter was setting the alarm before he disappeared down the hall to his room, Thor close behind. Their rooms were across the hall from one another, tucked behind the kitchen, far enough away that you and Bucky had plenty of room to yourselves, but close enough to ‘do their job’ should such an occasion arise.
With your husband trailing close behind, you made your way into the kitchen. You’d had a bit too much wine at the fundraiser, and now you were dealing with a case of cottonmouth. Two glasses of water later, you were feeling much better.
Bucky, who was only slightly drunk, grabbed your hand and spun you until you were chest to chest, his hand splayed over the small of your back. “Finally, I’ve got you all to myself,” he purred, his pupils slowly consuming his sapphire irises.
You rested your hand on the back of his neck and scraped your nails through his thick hair, along his scalp. “Now that you’ve got me, what do you plan on doing about it?”
To answer your question, Bucky backed you up against the refrigerator and started kissing you; deep and probing. You could taste the whiskey and the bite of tobacco from a cigar he indulged in earlier that evening on his tongue. You pushed up to your toes and melted into your husband, your hands tangling in his hair, roaming the breadth of his shoulders, nails catching on the almost invisible seams of his suit jacket.
The back of Bucky’s fingers skimmed against your thighs, just under the hem of your dress, sending a wave of goosebumps along your flesh. He pushed his hand between your thighs, growling low in the back of his throat as he came into contact with your dampening panties.
“For me, baby girl?” he hummed between kisses.
Electricity sparked against every inch of your skin at the way he was moving his fingers against you, a thin piece of cotton acting as the only barrier. You hissed your answer, your head falling back, your neck extending, relishing in the way Bucky’s plush lips, tongue, and teeth explored the area.
By the time he worked the panties down your legs and pushed two fingers inside of your tight hole, you were a whimpering mess. Your legs were shaking and the breath was tearing in and out of you, making you dizzy with desire. Bucky sought out your clit with his thumb, working it in tight circles as his fingers continued their ministrations; crooking just right to make you see stars.
“That’s it, baby,” he purred, fucking you faster. “Cum all over my hand.”
You had been teetering right on the precipice, ready to dive off and fall apart at the seams. So, when his words vibrated against the pulse point in your neck, you had no choice but to let go. Every nerve ending sparked and your back arched off the wall as you squeezed his thrusting digits.
“Jesus, doll,” Bucky grit out. “Can’t wait to get my cock in you.” As if to prove his point, he started unbuckling his belt with one hand. He shoved down his pants and freed his cock all while your climax was thrumming through you.
One moment you were pressed to the fridge, whimpering and begging for more, and the next, Bucky had you bent over the counter, your ass in the air, and your legs spread.
“Oh, I’m going to give you more, baby girl.”
The darkness in his voice made your pussy clench in anticipation, and it must have been quite the sight for him, because he was groaning.
“Do it again,” Bucky directed you in the same tone.
You did it again, sighing happily as your release dripped down the inside of your thighs. The swipe of skin on skin made you aware that he was stroking himself, that he was more than enjoying what he was seeing.
“C’mon, baby,” you cooed, glancing over your shoulder. “I thought you said you were going to give me more.”
Bucky gave you a wicked smirk before bringing his hand down on your ass, spanking you. “Patience, Y/N. I’m gettin’ to it.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but all that came out was a grunt of surprise as Bucky entered you swiftly. In all the years you and Bucky had been together, you’d never felt his cock as hard as it was at that very moment. The large vein on the underside was pulsing heavily, sending small jolts or pleasure through your pussy.
Bucky gripped your hips and slowly pulled out until only the tip remained as he warned you to, “Hold onto somethin’.”
You had just gripped the edge of the counter when he slammed into you. He hadn’t been lying; he was going to give you exactly what you asked for and you couldn’t wait.
The man behind you swore crudely as he fucked you, the word drawn out and heavy sounding. He did it again and again, both hands on your hips for a minute before one of them slid up your spine and gripped your shoulder.
With every grunt-inducing thrust and every drag of his thick cock, you soared closer to another orgasm, until finally, you were shattering apart from the inside out. The air was stolen from your lungs as you tightened around Bucky, your walls pulsating, quivering, beckoning him to follow suit.
Bucky was close behind, his thrusts growing sloppy before finally spilling inside of you. “Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed at the way your walls continued to flutter, squeezing the sensitive head of his cock.
You continued to lay there, gasping for air, your eyes closed, and your legs shaking as Bucky pulled out. “I do- don’t think I ca- can make it up the sta- stairs,” you panted before licking your lips. “And I’m thi- thirsty.”
Bucky gave a gravelly chuckle as he tucked himself into his boxer briefs and fixed his pants. “Stay there, I’ll get you some water after I clean you up.”
A warm and damp paper towel cleaned up the mess between your legs and what had started pooling on the floor. Next, Bucky helped you stand and waited until you finished drinking before he picked you up, and carried you bridal style up the stairs.
You nestled into his neck and breathed him in. “I love you, Senator.”
“I love you, too, Mrs. Barnes.”
He hid in the tall shrubbery and watched through the large windows as Bucky fucked his wife, on the kitchen counter, of all places. Although, if the man were in Bucky’s place right then, he’d more than likely do the exact same thing. Y/N was stunning; it was no wonder Bucky asked her to marry him fresh out of college.
While he had been in the asylum, he had seen every single one of their outings. It didn’t matter if it was something as simple as attending a baseball game, or an event such as tonight had been; he made sure he could see it.
Watching Bucky was like studying for an exam that would make up seventy-five percent of the final grade. Only, there were no second chances, no extra credit work that could be handed in. This was real life. That meant impossible-to-make decisions and consequences for improper and inappropriate actions, and God, he couldn’t wait to see the look in Bucky’s eyes when the two men were finally face-to-face.
He wanted to immediately announce himself, dive through the glass and rise up, showing himself to the very man that should have saved him. They had promised each other when they were young that nothing, nothing would come between them, and for ten years, they each honored that promise, but he should have known it was too good to last. He should have known that the worst kind of betrayal came at the hands of his own family.
Lesson fucking learned.
The only silver lining to being locked away for the past twenty years was that he had plenty of time to come up with a plan, and it was fucking perfect. But, for it to remain perfect, he had to stay hidden until the time was right. He just had to wait until tomorrow before he could start enacting his revenge.
As Bucky carried his wife out of the kitchen and the lights were turned off, the peeping Tom shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.
“Get a good night sleep, brother. Because tomorrow your whole life is going to change.”
THREE
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