Secretive - Bucky Barnes

26 || Remorse || 🔪

[This chapter includes graphic torture so if you'd like to skip that part: When the scene begins, I put a »/«. The scene ends with the next »/«, so it's safe to read further from that point on.]

»She said we ought to be careful.« I say as James and I walk out of Sam's front yard, closing the creaking wooden fence behind us. A brisk breeze shoves my hair out of my face when I try to look over my shoulder to the tall brunette in my back, once again realizing that the moon's beauty got nothing on him. More than that, I'd rather compare myself as the moon to his Earth, orbiting around him in an unconditional kind of addiction, ever-lasting, never-tiring. »And if she advises me to be aware of my surroundings, then we know we're in deep shit.«

»It's not like I'd expect anything less from Hell.« James responds quietly, like he's half here, and half there. He turns his head, sight falling back along the path we took, back along the last minutes in which we said goodbye to our kids, promising we wouldn't be gone for long. »I mean, I'm not entirely sure what to expect, but it doesn't include jacuzzies and whiskey.«

Shrugging, I take a step closer to him, somewhat reluctantly placing a pale hand on his right upper arm. It's not like I don't want to touch him; my body, at this point, is crying out to his like a feral animal, but I'm not used to it anymore. Still not. It feels the same as it always has been when my palm strokes down his biceps until it reaches a comfortable height, and all the while it feels foreign. However, his body heat warms me once again, almost like a gentle hug that flows through all of my veins just due to the touch. »Are you sure you want to accompany me? I could do it alone. Have you here with the kids. Safe.«

It takes some time for him to answer, and when he does, it's not only adrenaline that I smell anymore, but also the bittersweet oxytocin released inside his body. He takes a deep breath, blinks slowly before he turns around, my hand not once leaving him pristine, not for a second, because of my addiction for him. I'd rather spot his white pureness than deny myself this sin.
The moon behind me shines onto him like a spotlight, making his exposed skin, face and neck, seem so pale as almost translucent. For a second there, it feels like a dream to me. Because his outstanding flawlessness is unearthly, and so is my devotion to him. Feminism having left my body the second he entered it for the first time, and never since thought about returning.

Eyes the color of diamonds, so bright the usual bluish grey seems transparent, seem to search my face for something, but come back unsatisfied to meet my stare. He tilts his head slightly again, the right corner of his mouth ticking upwards for a moment, enough to make his humor shine through and still leave space to emphasize his seriousness. »Darling, with me on your side, you won't ever have to do anything alone again. You're not getting rid of me as easily, just in case you didn't notice.«

»I could.«

»You tried,« he whispers, a hint of sadness sparking through his eyes like lightning, and present for just as quick. Not in the mood for jokes, I see. »I'm still here.« James shrugs then, arms opening as to welcome another try on lightening the mood, the muscle beneath my hand working. »'Got the whole package, Babe. And you ordered it. Barnes-Package includes a lot more than just good sex and good genes. Comes with conditions. One of 'em is that it's no return.«

»I thought it was a monthly subscription.«

»Nope. You should start to read the small print.«

Patting his shoulder, a sigh escapes my lips. There's a blink of silence between us, one that shoves away the amusement and brings us back from our little escape tour. The skin of his cheek, warm and a little scratchy due to the stubbles of his shadow of a beard, is like a caress to my palm. »I'd never trade it for anything in the world.«