3. {Words, Sweetheart}

You're gathered in the main area of the compound, surrounded by the team's lively chatter as you prepare to head out to celebrate Sam's birthday at a club. Dressed in a chic, short black dress, your outfit serves a dual purpose tonight. It's not just about style — it's about strategy. After Bucky outsmarted you in the last prank, you're determined to turn the tables with your next move.

The sleek elegance of your attire mirrors the calculated precision of your plan. As you wait among your teammates, anticipation crackles in the air. There's a shared sense of excitement and mischief as you exchange knowing glances, silently plotting your revenge on Bucky.

Tonight holds the promise of an extraordinary celebration, and you're poised to ensure it leaves an indelible mark.

"You've got that look in your eyes again, Y/N..." Natasha's voice slices through the lively atmosphere, her tone infused with playful curiosity as she stands by your side, bearing two drinks. Extending one towards you, she raises an eyebrow inquisitively, her gaze adding to the intrigue, "So, anything to report since Barnes's face fucked you last week?" Natasha's question lands like a playful jab, nearly causing you to choke on your drink. Glancing around, you find solace in the fact that the others are engrossed in their own conversations.

"Romanoff!" you hiss, shooting her a warning glance. "I told in you in confidence."

"You told me to brag." Natasha corrects, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes as she takes a leisurely sip from her drink.

"What's there to brag about? He got what he wanted out of it then fucked off out of there..." you grumble, your irritation towards Bucky's prank still lingering.

"So this prank war of yours, it's turned sexual?" Natasha continues, her gaze momentarily flickering past you as she spots a couple more people entering the area — Bucky among them.

"I suppose," you reply with a nonchalant shrug, the true nature of the war still somewhat undefined in your mind. But then a sly smile tugs at your lips as you recall the latest trick you have up your sleeve for tonight.

"You two are twisted, you know that?" Natasha quips, her smile betraying her amusement at the unconventional dynamic between you and Bucky. "He's coming, by the way. Well, you've already witnessed that firsthand, but he's walking in with Steve," she notes, her head quickly tilting in their direction as the two men enter the room.

You swat her lightly on the arm at her jest, shooting her a warning gaze, just as Steve approaches and greets you both. Bucky remains quiet, offering a nod and a small smile in both your directions.

Minutes pass as you all wait for the birthday boy to be ready to leave. Eventually, you find yourself congregated in the kitchen area with Steve, engaging in casual conversation. Leaning over the counter, arms folded, you listen intently as Steve shares his thoughts on various topics. A bottle of fizz is shared between you, adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

Meanwhile, Bucky occupies himself on the other side of the room, engrossed in conversation with Clint and a few others. Despite his apparent focus on the discussion, you sense his gaze burning into your back, a silent reminder of the anticipation building between you. You know that the first part of your plan for the night awaits implementation, but timing is crucial, and you wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Using the reflection on the sleek surface of one of the kitchen appliances, you patiently await your opening. It's only when Clint and Tony momentarily disperse to fetch another round of drinks from the opposite corner of the main room, leaving Bucky momentarily alone, that you seize the opportunity. 

Maintaining a look of interest in Steve's conversation, you nod along to his words, all the while subtly lowering yourself, arching your back just so. As a cool breeze brushes against your exposed skin, you freeze, knowing that the tantalizing glimpse you want Bucky to catch is now on display. It's a deliberate choice to forgo underwear for the evening, heightening the anticipation of what's to come.

You smirk as your gaze flits back to the appliance, a knowing gleam in your eyes as you catch Bucky's reflection. It's evident he's aware of the provocative display you've orchestrated for him. Swiftly returning your attention to Steve, you respond to his inquiry, maintaining the facade of normalcy.

Bucky's expression remains stoic as he watches your daring move. His eyes linger on your exposed form, and his cock twitches at the sight of you bent over on display for him. With practiced ease, he approaches you and Steve, effortlessly diverting his attention away from your one-sided conversation.

With a deft touch of his metal hand against your backside, he discreetly pulls your dress back into place with a firm tug, silently communicating his disapproval. The move prompting you to straighten up from your previous lean, a silent reminder of his subtle control. 

"You think Sam's going to be much longer?" Bucky asks casually, directing his question to Steve, the three of you now gathered in the kitchen.

You can't help but notice that he doesn't withdraw his hand, the cool touch of the metal still perceptible through the fabric of your dress. His fingers linger on the material, tracing idle patterns as if lost in thought.

Steve's obliviousness to the charged atmosphere only adds to the intensity of the moment. "I'm not sure, but knowing Sam, he'll want to make an entrance," he replies with a chuckle, his attention shifting briefly to check his watch.

As his words fade into the background, your focus narrows solely on the electrifying touch of Bucky's hand against your dress. The charged atmosphere between you and him palpable even in the midst of casual conversation.

Unbeknownst to Steve, the wetness between your thighs intensifies, a silent testament to the arousal sparked by Bucky's proximity. You find yourself yearning for more, craving the sensation of his touch against your skin.

You can't help but wonder what thoughts are swirling in Bucky's mind as his fingers linger on your dress, teasingly close yet withholding further action. The wetness now between your thighs is a blatant reminder of the effect he has on you. You find yourself wondering who really is the one in control here, your brow furrowing with this thought, as you all await Sam's arrival.

***

As the night progresses, you find yourselves in a private booth at the club, the pulsating rhythm of music and laughter surrounding you. Seated beside Sam, you engage in lively conversation, enjoying the camaraderie of the celebration.

"So, how does it feel to be another year older, Sam?" you tease, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

Sam chuckles, taking a sip of his drink before responding, "Oh, you know, just another day closer to retirement, I guess."

Laughter bubbles between you, the atmosphere light and carefree. However, amidst the joviality, you can't shake the feeling of Bucky's gaze burning into you from across the table. Sensing his intense scrutiny, you steal a quick glance in his direction, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment before returning your attention to Sam.

Just as the conversation begins to lull, Natasha suddenly announces, "Alright, it's time for shots!" The collective groans from the group are met with your laughter, as you insist that it's all in celebration of Sam's birthday.

Amidst the protests, Bucky reaches for his wallet, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'll take care of this round," he declares, his gaze meeting yours.

You return his smile, recognizing that the next phase of your prank is now in motion with Bucky's unwitting participation.

You watch on as Bucky reaches for his wallet, his movements deliberate and unhurried. As he pulls out a wad of cash, his hand encounters an unexpected obstacle. Extracting a delicate piece of lacy black fabric from among the bills, his expression remains impassive, though a flicker of recognition glints in his eyes.

The rest of the team exchanges puzzled yet amusing glances, but Bucky's demeanor remains unchanged. His gaze meets yours briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as he realizes the implications of what he's found. 

"Is that what I think it is, Barnes?" Sam's laughter rings out, breaking the tension as he points at the lacy black underwear in Bucky's hand. The others soon join in, their amusement infectious as they tease Bucky about his unexpected discovery.

Chuckling, Bucky tucks the underwear inside his jacket pocket and tosses a few bills onto the table for Natasha to grab. "They were meant to be your birthday gift from me, Wilson," he jests, his tone light as he keeps the humor going.

"Hey man, I love you and all that, but black lace is not my thing," Sam quips back, inciting more laughter from the group.

"No, but I definitely know of someone here who's a fan of lace..." Natasha interjects, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she instantly discerns the owner of the lingerie. The team looks on with curiosity, awaiting her revelation. "Tony, obviously" she declares with a casual shrug and rolling her eyes, prompting a chorus of laughter from the group as you shoot Natasha a playful warning glance.

"The man isn't even here to defend himself, Nat!" Clint chimes in from his seat, met with another nonchalant shrug from the seasoned assassin.

"Where is he, anyway?" you inquire, casting a glance around the club.

"Steve's been trying to pry him away from the DJ booth for the past ten minutes," Sam gestures to the other side of the club, where you can just about make out the two men engaged in a heated discussion between an unsuspecting DJ. The team erupts into laughter once again, the laughter and banter strengthen the friendship among the group.

***

The night winds down, and you find yourself back at the compound, the group stumbling to their rooms in varying states of inebriation. Still garbed in your sleek black dress, now sans heels, you hasten to the kitchen for a refreshing glass of water before turning in. As you take your final sip, the sound of a throat being cleared echoes from the entryway that links the main area to the elevator.

Bucky leans casually against the pillar, his metallic arm outstretched, dangling the delicate black lace fabric on his finger. A mischievous smirk graces his features, illuminated by the soft glow of the room. "Thought you might want these back..." he quips, his tone playful yet suggestive.

You stride over to him, your smirk ever-present as you deftly retrieve the fabric, securing it between your cleavage where you lack pockets. "Goodnight, Barnes," you murmur softly, maintaining your smirk as you move to pass him. Yet, he intercepts your path with his extended metal arm.

"Wait a moment... Is that all?" he queries, his brow arched, a tantalizing gleam of mischief sparkling in his eyes.

You pause, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow of your own. "What else were you expecting?" you counter, feigning innocence but fully aware of the game he's playing. 

Bucky's smirk widens, his eyes flickering with amusement. "Oh, I don't know," he replies, his tone teasing. "Maybe a thank you for returning your... uh... belongings?" 

You chuckle, shaking your head slightly. "Thank you, but I'm not in the mood to be face fucked tonight," you reply, your gaze piercing, a hint of annoyance evident as you recall how he left you wanting more after your last heated exchange.

"No?" he queries, his teasing tone still present as his gaze darkens, taking a step closer to you. "But I am," he adds, his voice dropping to a low murmur, the intensity in his eyes matching the seriousness of his words.

Your eyes widen a fraction at his insinuation, his hands gently settling on either side of your waist, drawing you closer. His whispered words in your ear send a shiver down your spine, his warm breath creating an electrifying sensation against your skin.

"I mean, it's all I could think about tonight, after your little stunt earlier. You're telling me you weren't putting on a show for me, doll?" His tone is playful, his breath causing delightful sensations to ripple through you.

"I did?" You murmur, striving to maintain an air of indifference, yet your head tilts slightly in response to his closeness.

"Mmm hmm," he affirms, his breath caressing the nape of your neck. While he refrains from planting kisses, his lips hover enticingly close as he lowers himself, his hands gliding down to the backs of your thighs as he kneels before you. 

"So, it wasn't an invitation to do this?" he inquires, his brow raised as his gaze locks onto yours. With a swift motion, he hikes up the skirt of your dress, revealing everything to him, his hands returning to their previous position on your thighs.

You swallow, feeling a surge of heat rush through you at his boldness. "Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly." you retort, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his intense gaze, unable to hide the desire burning within you., your hands resting to his shoulders to keep your balance. 

Bucky's lips curl into a knowing smirk, his fingers trailing teasingly along your thighs, sending shivers through you. "Good," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Because I don't plan on stopping now." 

With that, he presses his lips to your inner thigh, trailing his kisses until they reach that tantalizing spot that makes you gasp with pleasure. "Shall I continue?" he teases, pausing in his movements, his mouth hovering so close to where you ache for his touch the most. You nod lightly, biting your lip as your eyes wander down to meet his. "Words, sweetheart," he warns, his voice low and filled with desire, demanding your verbal consent before he continues his delicious torture.

"Yes!" you exhale, the word slipping out a little louder than intended, your frustration evident in the urgency of your response. You hate the pause, desperate for him to continue. 

He chuckles softly at your response, a low, throaty sound escaping him before he continues his actions without any further hesitation. He spreads your legs wider, exposing you completely to him. His tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive skin around your clit and those breathy moans leave your lips. 

With your head tilted back, eyes closed you moan as your fingers tangle in his hair. He continues to explore you with his mouth. That devilishly good tongue, sliding between your folds before returning up to that sensitive bundle of nerves, "Bucky..." You gasp out his name, earning an animalistic sound in return from the soldier. His movements become firmer, and he slides a metal finger inside you, curling it up to find that sweet spot, the coolness of the metal enticing yet another moan of pleasure from you. 

The ding of the elevator interrupts your intimate moment, prompting both of you to freeze. You glance down at him with alarm, feeling a rush of breathlessness. "Someone's on their way down," you announce, your voice tinged with urgency as you observe the number on top of the elevator door counting down from twenty-five.

His eyes flick to the elevator and then back to you, and you can't help but notice the glistening moisture around his mouth, a sight that ignites desire within you. His lips curl into another smirk, his tone casual yet filled with anticipation. "You better hurry and cum for me then, doll," he remarks nonchalantly before diving back in, his mouth returning to your clit. 

You're about to protest, but the sensation of his tongue against your core stops you in your tracks. Instead, another pleasurable moan escapes your lips as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure.

You force your eyes open and glimpse the elevator's descending number, now at ten. The thought of being caught only heightens your arousal, sending a thrilling tingle through you. Your grip in his hair tightens instinctively, eliciting a growl from him in response. His movements become more urgent, urging you toward the brink of release with every flick of his tongue.

"Cum for me, Y/N." He growls into your core and you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tensing up. He can sense it too, and he increases his efforts even more. His finger moves faster inside you, his tongue moving in dazzling circles around your clit. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you let out a loud cry as you reach your climax, his name leaving you repeatedly in breathless gasps.

The elevator is now at four as he continues to lick and finger you, prolonging your orgasm. You're panting heavily, your body trembling from the intensity, hunched forward slightly as your hands are back to his shoulders for support. He looks up at you with a satisfied smile on his face and with practiced ease, he pulls your dress back down, rising to his feet. With a swift motion, he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve just as the elevator dings and the doors open.

You barely have time adjust your appearance, attempting to regain composure as the elevator door's part, revealing Sam Wilson, clearly intoxicated as he stumbles into the open room. Bucky stands beside you, his demeanor calm and collected, betraying no hint of the intimate moment that just transpired between you both.

Bucky maintains his composed facade, offering Sam a friendly nod of acknowledgment as he joins the festivities. "Hey, Sam. Having a good time?" he asks, his voice casual.

Sam grins widely, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. "You know it, man! Tonight's been epic," he replies, his words slightly slurred. 

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. "Glad to hear it. I think I'm gonna head up and call it a night," he announces casually before turning to you. "Y/N," he says in a low tone, bidding you goodnight with a brief nod and a pat on Sam's shoulder as he passes by.

As Sam heads to the kitchen for water, Bucky seizes the opportunity to approach you from behind, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers his confession. The suggestive tone in his words igniting a primal desire within you.

"Just to let you know, I would've stopped before those doors opened," he confesses softly, his smirk evident in his tone. "But it's good to know I can provoke such a response from you in thirty seconds or less, sweetheart."

The rush of heat floods your cheeks at his bold words, your arousal mingling with his woody fragrance sends that familiar tingle throughout your body as his lips tease your jawline. With Sam just steps away, his back turned to you both, the tension between you and Bucky remains palpable, simmering.

Bucky steps back, and with a soft exhale, you turn to watch Bucky retreat, his figure disappearing into the dimly lit corridor, leaving you to ponder the complexities of your relationship. As the sound of Sam's drunken movements in the kitchen fills the room, you take a moment to compose yourself, realizing once again that Bucky has managed to outmanoeuvre you in this ongoing war between you both.