Work Text:
Bucky slammed the door on his way in and Maria looked up from her work she'd sprawled all over the living room coffe table. Papers threatened to topple and were half buried under four or five drained styrofoam cups. She didn't bother to actually count them up, not with Bucky taking in her glassy-eyed, ruffled hair appearance post-forty hour day of meetings with Fury, the World Security Council, and several handlers related to a massive operation she was supposed to have launched in three days.
Bucky walked over, wrapped his metal hand around one of her wrists, and started to pull her to her feet off the couch.
"Bedroom only," she reminded him absently but only tugged half-heartedly against him. She was tired, d— it, and wasn't really in the mood for a fight.
But he honest to goodness growled low in his throat and ordered, "Bedroom. Now."
It startled Maria and she stared at him for a long moment, suddenly fully alert and assessing the threat level of the man she'd allowed in her apartment (was it too late to take back the key?), but no, this was Bucky and she'd offered him dominance in the bedroom. This was like the bedroom. This was noting she needed to stop and be in the bedroom.
He waited for her to think it over, patiently, knowing she didn't cede authority without choosing to do so. Finally, she nodded and let him lead her by the wrist.
Inside, he kicked the door shut and let her go. "Lose those clothes. Now."
She was still in her suit dress from work. She watched the intensity in his gaze as his eyes darkened with each piece she dropped. Each article of clothing stripped away some of the tension and worry that came with being Deputy Director of SHIELD until at last she stood bare before him, simply Maria Hill, raising an eyebrow in question.
Bucky saw it, noted it, and stepped forward to yank the tie out of her hair with one twist of his metal fingers. She shuddered under the motion. It was a conscious and intentional reminder of his greater physical strength and resiliance as the touch of his skin carried an inherent intimacy, a conscious decision to bridge the gap between them and connect.
Her eyes lowered and she didn't speak. In this moment, she gave him back some of the power he'd never had under HYDRA, and he preferred not to hear words.
He tipped her chin upward and looked in her eyes as he worked his right hand through her hair, tugging enough to hurt, to make her feel it, and watching for her reaction. She didn't know what was looking for, just waited and sighed into the harsh caress.
"You're tired," he said at last and pushed her gently back toward the bed.
She let him guide her between the covers and held very still as he stepped away from her, stripped out of his own clothes, and then joined her. He wrapped himself around her and tugged her head to rest on his shoulder.
It wasn't what she'd been expecting, but Maria had slowly begun to give up having expectations for Bucky. He was constantly surprising her.
He tangled his right hand into her hair again and gently, soothingly ran his fingers through it over and over in a stroke that made her feel almost catlike leaning into it. Conscious decisions and deliberate intimacy.
She relaxed into his vigilance and tumbled into dreams.