still friends

Chapter 8: Happy Birthday, Soldier

He licks his lips. "seventeen."

She shakes her head, grinning, and squeezes an oil into her palms. She picks up his hand, massaging his knuckles and fingers slowly.

"Nine."

"Nuh huh." Her fingers are working the muscles easily, and he feels the tension being sucked out of him like a straw.

He sighs, lost in the feeling, and cranes his neck back.

"Come on, soldier," Wanda murmurs, her tone silky. "Don't you wanna win a prize?"

He would recognize that tone anywhere, her intentions loud and clear. She bites her lower lip, teasingly, and a shiver hits him.

"Fifteen?" He says weakly, and she shakes her head.

"Close, it's sixteen," she replies, pressing into his palm with her thumbs. "But, I guess I can give you a little prize."

She tugs her top up, holding it under her chin. A thin, lacy bra covers her breast, her nipples poking through the fabric. His cock twitches, and he reaches for her, swiping his thumb across her nipple. She gasps lowly, and drops her shirt down.

"No no no," she laughs, voice low. "You gotta win the game to get the prize."

He sits back against the tub. He'll play, and he'll definitely win.

She picks up the cup, placing it on the covered toilet seat. "Ok, sit up so I can get your back." He does so, his knees to his chest, and she squirts a cool liquid on his upper back. "The number I'm thinking of is between one and thirty."

Bucky contemplates, sighing as she rubs her knuckles into his back. His muscles are tight, and her movements are easing every knot. "How about twenty."

"No," she replies, hidden from his viewpoint as she works. "Close."

"Twenty-three."

He feels her pause, her hands suddenly stilling on his back.

"I'll take that as an 'i win' '' Bucky chuckles, waiting for her to answer. When she doesn't move, he glances over his shoulder. She stares at him, her brows furrowed, lips tight in a line.

"Wanda?" he asks, turning around clumsily in a tub he was far too big for. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." She says, dipping her hands slowly into the water and washing them off. "You win."

Her tone is almost misty, her eyes far away, and he's worried he said something wrong.

"What is it?" He says, and when she doesn't reply, just keeps washing her hands, he places his wet palm on her shoulder. Her head snaps up, and she seems to remember herself.

She smiles, but it's tight, not easy.

"Good job soldier," she whispers, standing and peeling her top off. "You won."

He isn't sure he likes this. She dips her hand into the water, gripping him and he shutters. She begins to slowly stroke him, watching his face struggle to contain his composure as he hardens in her hand.

"W-wanda just, wait a second." He breathes, his voice thick. Swiping her hand over his head, she releases him, then steps into the tub, still dressed in her lingerie.

She looks powerful, the black lace accenting all her curves, her nipples peaked under the fabric. His mouth waters, mind blanking.

Wanda lifts her leg, placing her foot by the faucet handle, and he can nearly smell her arousal as her legs are open, so close to him.

"Well?" She says peering down at him. "Don't you want a taste?"

He moves quickly, gripping her ass with one hand as the other grabs the lace, pulling it to the side. He gives her a tentative lick, and another, and Wanda sighs deeply. Her hand is pressed against the wall as he licks her, pressing into her skin hrashly. Her other hand moves into his hair, and she's whispering encouraging, dirty things as he works.