ＴＩＴＡＮ (𝘖𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘐𝘐) || Bucky BarnesxOC

𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗬: 𝗠𝗔𝗗 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗

"Thank you, Stephen," she whispers. "You have no idea what this means to us."

Stephen smirks, but it never quite touches his eyes. He's always been like this, cold and removed. He's all business, and James has always appreciated that. He can count on one finger the amount of times they've actually had a heart to heart. Twice. Once, just after Steve's death and once after Stephen's divorce. It was brief. Stephen has a hard time with emotions, preferring to mask them with icy glances and snide remarks. It works for them.

He grabs his bag and smiles.

"You're welcome. If you have any problems with that arm, you call me, alright?"

James salutes him and Dahlia walks him to the door, swaying her hips. Her ass is just barely covered by those little purple shorts. His cock stiffens in his sweats and he reaches over, grabbing his cane with his metal hand. His fingers click and whir, and he stands up, only wincing slightly at the pressure on his leg. He has to get used to it. James twirls the cane in his hand and mimes a hard strike.

"Maybe this thing isn't so bad," he murmurs.

From the doorway, Dahlia clears her throat. Her dark hair is a mess of curls and she slides a tongue across her glossy lips. She's beautiful, with rosy cheeks and those warm brown eyes nearly eclipsed by her quickly widening pupils. He can see her nipples pebble beneath her thin tank top. It rides just above her soft belly and her pillow thighs squeeze together.

"I believe you and I have some business to attend to, Mr. Barnes."

The curtains are open, a soft breeze blowing through the living room. He hears Stephen's car peel out of the driveway, along with two quick honks. James twirls the cane again and Dahlia's eyes are only on his metal arm.

"Is that so?" He purrs.

She slowly lowers herself to her knees and slinks toward him like a starved animal on all fours. James's cock is aching to be touched. Buried inside of her. He feels better than he's ever felt in his life, and that could be the morphine, but watching her stare up at him with those big, lust-filled eyes makes him feel like a fucking God.

When she reaches him, she sits back on her haunches, her hands gliding up her waist. Cupping her breasts. She teases her nipples as her lips part.

"I've been dreaming about fucking you every night," she purrs.

He knows. He wakes up with her ass grinding into his cock and it takes every ounce of self-preservation and willpower not to fuck her until she screams.

"Have you?" His voice is soft and low, knowing exactly which octave to hit to make her moan.

He knows her better than he knows himself.

Her fingers slide up her flimsy little tank top and she teases her nipples beneath the fabric.

"I'm so fucking wet." One hand slips into those little shorts that he wants to rip to shreds with his fucking teeth.

James tilts his head, watching as she teases her clit, her head falling back as she moans. She thinks she's in control.

She always does at first.

"Show daddy, peach. I want those fingers glistening."

She whines and tilts her hips forward, thrusting her fingers inside of her cunt. Her head drops and James tucks the cane beneath her chin, using it to tilt her head upward.

"Peach? I said show daddy."

"Or what?" The texture of her voice is primal and he feels something prickle at the back of his neck, and her eyes land on his cane.