A request from my prompt list! Prompt is highlighted in bold. Was gonna make it smutty but I chickened out hehe (Maybe do a part 2?)
Also oops the ending is really shitty soz x
Y/N was driving Bucky absolutely mad. Completely insane.
Well, Steve had called the insanity love.
Bucky had never really felt it before.
Sure, there had been girls before. Pretty girls, too. But they had lacked something. He had never really wanted to chase them, they chased him.
But Y/N was something different.
Y/N made him weak at the knees and dry of mouth. He had fought to get you, like putty in her hands. You drove him absolutely mad. You had this way of looking at him, that made him feel like the only man who had ever existed and would ever exist. You didn't smile, never smiled. If something amused you, your left eyebrow would quirk bemusedly, but never so much as the smallest grin had crossed your face.
And this evening, you were on fire.
In all honesty, he thought you looked beautiful, even fresh out of the gym redfaced and sweaty and wishing death on your PT, but tonight you were incredible, wearing a black dress, an innocent look and sinfully red lips.
Red lips he'd spent all evening trying not to picture around his-
"Hey." A soft voice from behind him called. "Mind if I join?"
He'd come out on the terrace to escape. He didn't like Stark's parties anyway, and some rat from HR trailing behind you, clinging onto your every word, had left him positively seething, so he'd come outside and lit up a fag. Two fags. Three fags. Many, many fags. (edit: fags is slang for cigarettes)
He turned, seeing you standing behind him. A blazer jacket you weren't wearing before was draped over your shoulders, your hair let down from its tightly pinned style, your hand wrapped around a half empty champagne flute.
Oh boy, he thought to himself. This is gonna be good.
"More champagne?" He offered, reaching behind him. "I brought the bottle out with me when I came out."
"You're terrible." You laughed, holding your glass out. "You're a bad influence, Barnes."
If you bit that lip one more time, Bucky didn't know what he'd do.
Attempting to calm himself, he pulled another cigarette from the box in his pocket, cupping it as he lit it. Lifting it to his mouth, he went to take a drag, only to find nothing but air between his fingers.
You put the cigarette between your lips, taking a long drag, drawing the smoke into your lungs before blowing the smoke in his face and handing it back.
"Better." You delicately chewed at your bottom lip. "You really shouldn't smoke those, you know."
That fucking lip.
"You really shouldn't look so damn fine in the dress, darlin', but here we are." His voice came out as a low rasp.
Your eyebrow quirked, the closest to a smile he'd ever seen you wear.
"Glad you like it, Sergeant." You cocked your head to the side coyly, bringing your glass to your mouth to take a sip. If he kissed you, he wondered, would you taste like champagne?
Turning to face the skyline, he butted out the remains of his cigarette and flicked it over the balcony's rails into the darkness below.
"You know, I think I'd like it better on my bedroom floor." He said, hearing your approaching footsteps on the glass behind him. As you settled yourself on the railings next to him, your curious gaze met his eyes.
"Is that so?" You asked.
"Indeed." He continued, stepping towards you. "What's with the jacket? You cold, sugar?"
"A little." You looked up at him from under your eyelashes. "Why, are you gonna warm me up?"
"Doll, I could warm you up in ways can't even imagine." By now, he was close enough to smell your perfume and the faint trace of smoke on your breath. His hand reached out, grabbing at your hip and gently tugging you towards him before coming to rest at the small of your back, just above the back of your dress, using his metal hand to grab the borrowed jacket and discard it on the floor.
You involuntarily arched your back, shuddering at the touch of his hand on your cool skin. The stubble on his chin brushed your throat as he bent his head, pressing a searing kiss to your clavicle. A gentle sigh escaped from your lips as he lifted his head slightly, his lips not quite touching your ear.
"Do you want me to show you?" His voice dropped to a low whisper, fingers pressing into the flesh of your back. You looked up at him, your own face mere centimetres away from his, his hot breath fanning across your face. If you tilted your head just slightly you'd be kissing him.
"Is this a private party or are you accepting entry applications?" You sprung apart, turning to see a grinning Sam stood behind you.
"Tell me, Sam, did I ever mention," Bucky drawled, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hands. "Just how much I hate you?"
Sam simply laughed, slipping back through the door to re enter the party.
"I could kill that punk." Bucky muttered under his breath, turning to face the balcony once more.
You sighed, picking up your discarded jacket from where it had been dropped on the cold glass floor, draping it over your shoulder and turning to rejoin the party just as Sam had done not thirty seconds previously, when a hand grabbed your wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky's voice was low and soft. "I thought you might want to continue this little party in my room."
"I don't kiss and tell." You bit your lip, your eyebrow quirking bemusedly.
"Sweetheart, what happens in my room, stays in my room."
