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“Open this.”
A bag of red licorice is shoved Bucky’s way as he passes through the kitchen. He cocks an eyebrow as he slowly takes it from you.
“Can you say ‘please’?” the skin around those baby blues fold and deepen as he grins. How distracting. You scoff.
“Open this - please,” Despite your lips pursed together in faux annoyance, the amusement and warmth that always sits in Bucky’s chest whenever you’re around simply spreads.
Bucky continues to eye the candy in his hands. Your impatience is evident when you cross your arms over your chest and Bucky has to look away from the soft curves there. How tempting.
“Shouldn’t you have dinner first?” As if Bucky has any intentions of letting you have your candy.
“No,” your immediate response. “I’ve been working all day. I need sugar. I need something bad for my body.”
At your words, Bucky wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you close. “Well if it’s sugar you wanted, all you had to do was ask.” he drawls in a low tone.
Bucky presses his face close, nose to nose with you. Your pout does its best to resist the growing smile on your lips, so Bucky leans in a bit more - all soft but purposeful.
A sigh from you, Bucky thinks you sound almost disappointed. But he’ll make it up to you soon enough.
A second, third and fourth kiss follows. Each one fuller and deeper than the one before. Bucky brings up his other arm around you. Here, curves at last.
Your sigh sounds a lot better to Bucky afterwards. He presses on, lips moving from cheeks to jaw to neck. A nip here and there, soothed by more kisses that are all pillow-soft and candy-sweet.
He feels your hands grip his shoulders, loves how pliant you are in his arms. Your soft gasps and stuttered moans echo in his ears in a loving symphony, accompanied by the occasional roll of your hips snug against his own.
Your fingers tug on his hair from the base of his neck while Bucky’s warm tongue presses against your throat.
A crinkling sound followed by a quiet thud is unnoticed between the two of you. The only other noise in the cozy kitchen are the rustling of clothes and the quiet hums and moans in the small space between skin to skin.
Has it been minutes or hours already? You can’t really tell. All you know is Bucky’s hands on your hips, squeezing and pulling, along with Bucky’s all-too-him scent and breath seeping all over you.
At some point, Bucky slows and eventually pulls away. Your thumb brushes across his cheek and rests cupping his jaw.
“Better now?” he plants one more kiss on your cheek. His candy girl.
You hum, eyes closed and a gentle smile, looking a lot more content. “Yeah. You’re right - I should have just asked.”
“Any time, sweetheart.”