part time soulmates, full time problem

Fighting Dirty

"You're staring at me like you want to say yes." He smirked, taking a step closer to you.

"Well, I'd be an idiot for passing up the opportunity to hit you." You said.

"If that's what you think would happen."

"Shall we find out?" You retorted, echoing his previous question, and making him smile.

You wandered to the middle of the room, onto the crash mats. The team always fought on these, considering how often they trained and how often they threw each other down, it was just common sense to cushion the blow where they could.

Bucky walked slowly over to you, rolling his shoulders, your eyes drawn to the mechanical whir of his left arm as it moved. When he was opposite you, you raised your fists in preparation. He, on the other hand, reached into his pocket, pulled out a knife, and twirled it in his fingers.

"You and Nat still practise with knives don't you?" He asked, finally gripping the handle, finally allowing you to tear your gaze away from the unexpectedly hot action. You nodded, swallowing, not trusting your voice while your stomach roared with desire.

You exhaled slowly, adjusting your stance and readying your fists, determined not to let yourself be distracted by how much you wanted to just grab his face and -

He lunged forward, only giving you a split second to dodge, and the fight commenced. His fighting style hadn't changed since you started watching him a couple months ago, and after the first few moves, you found the rhythm of defending and attacking. He tended to leave his right side open, but once you landed a punch there he quickly tried to cover it. A few moves later and he would do it again, the focus of his attacks coming from his left side, his left arm, with his knife in the right hand for back up. You alternated between being invisible and letting him see you, trying to trick him where you could.

You could tell that he was getting annoyed after an hour of fighting you. He wasn't used to losing. Well, not losing per say, but he certainly wasn't used to someone outlasting him this long, apart from Steve. It was making you more confident by the second.

He thought he had got you at one point, completely by fluke, managing to pin your shoulders to the ground with his metal arm across your collarbone, his right hand holding the knife an inch from your throat. In his arrogance he had forgotten to cover your legs, which you used to knee him in the ribs, making him buckle, and giving you the chance to push him onto his back, hands pinning his biceps down, your knees over his thighs.

You grinned wickedly at him, pleased that you had managed to win. He struggled for a few seconds, then stopped. You wondered if he was just doing it for show.

"You fight dirty." He commented, as though he was trying to get around the fact of admitting that you won.

"You can just admit that you lost, you know." You replied.

"I'm not sure this would count as losing, doll." He said, purposefully flicking his eyes down to where you had his legs pinned. Heat licked its way up your spine, and you were suddenly incredibly aware of the positioning of your body, and you focused on keeping yourself as still as possible, fighting the urge to lean closer, to move your hips.

"Do you have to make everything sexual?" You asked, trying to exude annoyance. But then your eyes locked on his tongue running over his bottom lip as he debated how to respond to you.

You noticed his grip shift on the knife he was holding in his right hand. A split second thought rushed over you, determined to put a bit more space between you, and you moved your hand to grab the knife from him, but he took the opportunity, letting you take the knife, and using his now free hand to grab your waist and flip you over onto your back.