All is fair in love and war - James B. Barnes

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader

Word count: 2462

Summary: Things heat up during a training session between Bucky and Reader.

Warnings: Pet names, explicit words, teasing, cursing, fighting/training, dirty talk (kinda), innuendos, that stupid metal arm (ugh), kissing, implied smut, seduction 101. That’s it I think, let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is I don’t know :) But if you feel like leaving me some feedback, I’d really appreciate it.

Ps: English is not my first language, I tried my best, but there might still be some mistakes/weird sentences. Sorry :)

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A strategy, that’s all it is. Nothing more than a strategy. A strategy that you’ve spent the last couple of weeks working on because, honestly, how long can anyone take this? Every other day, you find yourself lying on your back, sweaty and out of breath, panting up at the same man pinning your body to the sticky mattresses time and time again. That is, if you’re not pinned to something else.

It probably wouldn’t even be so bad if it wasn’t for the smug, self-satisfied grin always painted on his stupidly handsome face.

So yes, you came up with a plan. Granted it’s a stupid, ridiculous, totally not thought-through plan, but at least you are prepared. That’s what everyone keeps telling you anyway. You should always have a plan.

That’s why, this time, as he effortlessly swipes your feet from under you, sending your body to meet the oh so trusty mattress, you don’t try to fight your way back to your feet before his hips are pinning yours down; one elbow landing a breath away from your face as his metal hand wraps around your throat, asserting the dominance you both know he currently has over you.

Yeah, he’s a show-off and you fucking hate him for it.

The smile that spreads on his lips is slow, teasing and 100% meant to get on every single one of your nerves. That’s another thing he excels at. The fucker.

Your chest rises to meet his sweat-dampened one, cause Mr. ‘I’ll always pin you to whatever surface is closest’ prefers working out shirtless – not that you mind – but still: a show off.

“Gotcha.” A quick eyebrow raise, smile widening as his tongue pokes out to make an appearance.

He’s a show-off and a tease. So, well, you kiss him.

Now your plan didn’t go any further than this exact moment and you’re not sure what you were expecting him to do other than be surprised, but it sure as hell wasn’t to kiss you back.

He’s a good kisser, and fucking hell, you should’ve expected that. You should’ve at least guessedfrom the way he runs his tongue over those lips, the way his teeth sink in them, or even just the easy way they curl around his smile. He smiles like a man who knows how to use those lips.

So, what if you get distracted for a minute or several even? What if your arms encircle his waist and you pull him closer? No one in their right mind would judge you cause he definitely knows how to use those lips.

The position you’re in, or rather his hips pinning your own, limit your movements which is more than a little frustrating – not that you plan on ever admitting that out loud – all you can really do, is wiggle underneath him, until he catches your drift and smoothly manoeuvres to rest between your parted thighs. Bless Sam and his ‘flexibility is fundamental’ policy.

You’d originally thought this would be the long-awaited moment to claim your victory, instead, you find yourself hooking your calf around his thigh, which rewards you with the sweetest, most panty-melting groan you’ve had the pleasure of hearing, and the prominent evidence of how much he’s enjoying the kiss. Now, that, is one hell of a victory.

His hand moves from your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he cups your head to deepen the kiss and when his tongue asks for entrance, you don’t deem it nice to refuse – seriously that would be rude – so you grant it.

He kisses you until you run out of breath and you find yourself wishing you’d taken on Natasha’s advice to increase your damn lung capacity. You don’t have much time to contemplate that thought, though, because then he’s staring down at you so intently with those pretty, darkened blue eyes and, damn, is it even legal for him to lick his lips like that?

“That wa-” Taking your chance while his guard is down, you don’t give him time to finish.

Hands on his shoulders, you bridge your hips and push him off and to the side, the way Steve showed you during your last sparring session, quickly switching positions and pinning him to the mattress. Your turn for a smug smile.

“-uff. Dirty trick, huh?”

You’d probably be more bothered by the fact that he’s grinning again, if it weren’t for his lips still glistening with the evidence of your kiss. His hands resting comfortably on your waist are a plus.

“Gotcha!”

“Doesn’t count, doll. You cheated.”

You shrug one shoulder, leaning down and mimicking his previous actions; elbow by his head and hand around his neck. You’re starting to understand why he enjoys pinning you down so much. He’s still a show-off, though.

“Gotcha.” You whisper the word, letting your breath tickle the sensitive skin just under his ear and thoroughly enjoying the way his fingers flex on your waist as his breathing stutters ever so slightly. It’s payback and, fine, maybe he’s not the only tease.

“If that’s what it takes, I’m more than willing to let you pin me more often, dollface.” The way the pet name rolls off his tongue this time – smooth, sensual, inviting – has you fighting off the urge to buck your hips. You categorically refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“That’s cute, but we both know your ego could never sustain such a blow, sarge.”

With his head thrown back, you feel the laugh that erupts from him travel all through his body, and fuck, the plan was definitely not thought-through.

“Trust me, my ego is getting one hell of a boost with you perched up there, doll.”

He makes a show of letting his eyes suggestively travel to the place you’re sitting on, making you hyper aware of the delectable way his bulge looks in his damned, black shorts. Yep, okay, time to get up before you make a fool out of yourself.

“Don’t get cheeky with me, sergeant.” A slap to his chest accompanies your words and the hard pecs you’re met with, have your core clenching involuntarily. He’s just so solid; it’s unfair. Likereallyunfair.

Before you have the time to redirect your thoughts to something more decent – he is your teammate after all, for crying out loud – he brings his hands under your thighs, lifting your body as he sits up and slams you down between his parted thighs, effectively knocking the breath out of you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

You grunt back something intelligible, sticking up your middle finger for him to chuckle at as he gets back to his feet. God, you really do hate his skilled and overly attractive ass. When you crack open an eye, you find his hand dangling in front of your face: a peace offering. Grasping the metal appendage, you let him pull you back upright and head for your water bottle; Barnes still has 27 minutes and 19 seconds to thoroughly torture your ass before you can call it a day. Yay.

Your back is met with the wall this time, because he likes to spice things up. You huff out indignantly, struggling against the vice grip holding both of your wrists plastered to the wall padding. Why are his hands so big, anyway? Honestly, that’s just unnecessary. You feel like screaming your frustration cause he’s not even using the metal hand and, yet, you can’t make him budge.

“You’re getting better at this.”

Praying for your body not to betray the effect his praise has on you, you flash him your most saccharine, sarcastic smile. “What can I say, Steve’s a great teacher. Gon let me go now, or what?”

Your attitude will be your undoing one day, that’s for sure.

Instead of loosening his grip, he slots his thigh between your legs, spreading them in the process as your hips are pinned to the wall as well. His breathing is ragged and you wish, but you know it’s not due to exertion; you still have a long road ahead of you before your fighting skills manage to exert a super soldier. Still, you’ll take what you can and, now, it’s your ego’s turn to get one hell of a boost.

You don’t dare break eye contact, staring right back at him defiantly. No way you’re backing down. When you feel the almost-there touch of his metal fingers caressing their way up your thigh, you consider caving for a fraction of a second, but then that grin just has to make another damn appearance. Well, fuck him.

“I’m dying to see how you get out of this one, dollface.” His gaze locks on your parted lips. You know what he expects, what he wants, and you also know that he’ll never cave either.

Your voice sounds just as strained and husky as his when you finally manage to get enough moisture back in your dry mouth to answer.

“What if I don’t want to, sergeant?” It’s mocking, provoking and instead of taking it back, your shoulders relax against the wall, pushing your chest forward as your back arches invitingly.

Yeah, your attitude will certainly be your undoing.

His dark eyes find yours again, at the same time his metal hand lands just under your ribcage and his other hand tugs your wrists upwards. You groan at the change in posture; every muscle in your body tensing as you find yourself barely able to reach the ground with your tiptoes.

“Don’t fuck with me, doll.” Huh, you wish.

James fucking Barnes is holding your body suspended in the air. If you were to relax, you’d end up straddling his thigh and the fucker makes it abundantly clear that he knows that by purposefully contracting his quad. Your ego stops you from accepting the tempting invitation.

If your brain wasn’t currently swallowed by a cloud of lust, you would actually be more than a little mortified by the fact that he has you melting against his rock-hard body as muscle fatigue starts to set in.

You don’t know how, and you certainly don’t know why, since your body is rather enjoying the feeling of his, but you manage to use his hold on your wrist as leverage and your knee comes up to awkwardly connect with his side. The movement takes him by surprise and he loses his footing trying to keep you from falling.

You end up back on the mattress in a tangled mess of limbs. The timer going off makes you jump lightly, but neither of you moves to pull away. Somewhere in the background, under the obscene fantasies now running wild in your head, you remember that you’re still in the gym. Anyone could walk in at any fucking second.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” You throw back his words at him and if the answering growl you receive is anything to go by, he doesn’t find you as funny as you find yourself. Oh well. You shrug, sitting back upright on his lap as he lets his head hit the mattress; eyes closing. The privileged seat is kind of starting to grow on you.

“Bucky?”

“Hmmm?” It’s more of an annoyed grunt than a hum, his nostrils flaring as he opens his eyes to find you glancing behind him to check if anyone is there to witness what is going on.

“How’s the ego doing?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

He shifts his hips slightly, catching you off guard and you end up positioned right on top of the delectable bulge that was previously teasing you.

Oh yeah, something is growing on you alright.

Schooling your facial expression as best as you can because – sweet baby pandas, neither his shorts nor yours do anything to conceal what and how much he is packing – you force your eyes to stay on his daring ones. This is the moment of truth: every single, tiny, teasing taunt you’ve exchanged today culminates in this. You, him, your core pressed to his bulge and his lust-darkened eyes boring into yours; you’re going to combust.

“Well then, nothing to worry about I guess. So- ehm, time’s up, you plan on letting me go or what?”

“Maybe…” His hold on your thighs tightens the slightest bit, betraying his words and keeping you rooted in place. “If you ask nicely.”

You huff out a laugh, eyebrows rising incredulously, because he has to know that you’d rather spend the night sitting on his lap than beg. There is no way in hell, heaven and everything in between. At least, you like to think so.

“Sure, in your dreams, pal.”

He sits up then, and all you can think about is how strong his core muscles must be. Does this man ever tire? Apparently not.

“Oh, I’m counting on it, doll. Always sound so damn pretty, too.” That takes you by surprise. You know what his words imply and, suddenly, your brain is flooded back with all those indecent thoughts about your teammate.

Your forefinger finds his chest and you push back, needing to put some space between you and his scorching, hot body in order for your brain to resume functioning properly.

“Well, guess what? If you let me go now, you’ll have just enough time to squeeze in a nap before dinner time.” His back connects loudly with the mat as he unceremoniously falls back down; hands pillowing his head as he stares up at you with a boyish grin.

You lift yourself off of him as gracefully as you can, and just before you stand back to your feet, you lean closer one last time; your finger back on his chest and slowly making its way south. Yep, those abs are as strong as you always guessed them to be. “You should know, though, that I sound much, much better in real life.”

Flashing him a sultry smile, you stand up and revel in the groan that echoes your confession.

“Who’s being cheeky now, huh, doll?”

You don’t turn to look at him, eyeing him in the mirror and enjoying the way his eyes are glued to your retreating figure as he adjusts himself with his metal hand. For some reason, which you do not care to dwell on, that simple action gets you hot all over.

“Sweet dreams.” You toss the words over your back, calming down the raging zoo in your ribcage before you add. “That is, unless you rather get a taste of the real thing, sarge.”

The invitation is followed by a second of silence; then a curse, a thud and some more colourful words reach your ears, before the mat squeaks under Bucky’s footsteps as he rushes to catch up.

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