This chapter is back to where I actually wanted to go with this fic (aka filthywrong PWP), before Bucky started getting all touchy-feely in the last chapter. But fear not, everything’s back to trashy sex in this one!
---
Bucky comes to appreciate many things about Rumlow.
For one, he’s the only person who doesn’t walk on eggshells around Bucky. Beneath his sarcastic grin and cocky demeanor, Rumlow knows chances are high he’d lose any fair fight against the Winter Soldier, so he puts all his strength into every punch and every grip is the hardest he’s got. Sure, he touches Bucky like he hates him, but Bucky prefers being someone’s dangerous enemy to being treated like a sad, broken puppy anytime.
He stops knocking on the door after that first encounter and just lets himself in. When he enters through the window, Rumlow awaits him with his Glock aimed straight at the Soldier’s chest.
"Miss me?" Bucky smiles mildly and with a sudden twirl lurches forward and kicks the gun right out of Rumlow’s grip. The man is faster than his bulky body makes people assume, though. He hasn’t made it Commander of STRIKE because he’s a bad fighter, so in the following exchange of pleasantries he does manage to land some good punches on the Soldier's ribs and even drives a bone-rattling smack to the jaw home. Neither of them fights to kill though, it’s more a kind of ambitious fight training; just enough to get riled up a bit. When Rumlow pins him against the wall, Bucky bends forward with a feral grin and licks a drop of sweat from the other’s throat, eliciting a low growl. A rough hand settles on Bucky’s groin.
"Looks more like you missed me," Rumlow hisses into his ear.
If Bucky wanted to get out of that pin-grip, he’d go for the other man’s weaker leg: kick it out beneath Rumlow and use the moment of imbalance to bring him to the ground with a final thud. But the hand between his own legs starts kneading, and it’s not subtle either. Bucky’s exhale turns into an undignified moan and his body arches against the pressure. "You better make it worth my while then."
-
Rumlow fucks him bent over the window sill. "Try not to make that blissed out whore-face and people might not guess you’ve got my cock up your ass," he says. "And I don’t care if you come in through the door or the window or the fucking air supply – but next time you knock."
Bucky grunts. Rumlow’s staccato thrusts make him gasp for air and his dick swings against the wall repeatedly in a mix of not-enough-pleasure and pain. Bucky can’t reach down himself, and Rumlow’s got one hand firmly on Bucky’s hip and the other on his neck, bending him out the window. The apartment is rather high up and there are no windows directly opposite, but it’s not hard to imagine people watching from behind the glassy surface of the office buildings in the semi-distance.
That knowledge does things to both him and Rumlow, and Bucky can pinpoint the exact moment Rumlow comes – not only because of the way he curses or how his fingers dig into Bucky’s flesh heftily – no, Bucky always thought he could feel it when people shot off inside him; feel their dicks twitch and the wetness spreading inside his guts.
He gasps sharply as Rumlow draws out unceremoniously and smacks his ass.
"Up," he orders.
Bucky expects that Rumlow wants him to straighten up but instead feels himself being lifted up the window sill. He comes to kneel there, wood digging uncomfortably into his shins and his eyes search frantically for leverage on the house’s surface, something he’d reach for should Rumlow decide it was fun to kick him out the window with his fly still open. He feels an arm crossing over his chest though, steadying him and taking some pressure off his shins. "Spread your legs a little more," Rumlow says and Bucky moves his knees apart as far as the window frame allows. He’s sidetracked for a moment by the sensation of Rumlow’s cum tickling down his thighs and he all but wails as a calloused hand starts tugging at his neglected cock. (And fuck, Rumlow’s never been a huge fan of slick, hasn’t he? And that hand chafes up and down Bucky’s skin like – ah –)
"Yeah," Rumlow says, "that’s it. Show’em what you’ve got."
Bucky tries to bite back mewls, but it’s so good and he’s so exposed and oh fuck, it’s so intense, and he, he, a-ah –
Rumlow laughs as Bucky jerks up his hips sharply; two, three, four times and keeps stroking while Bucky spills his seed out the window.
"Very nice," Rumlow chuckles. Bucky’s head almost spins too much to realize he’s supposed to grab the window frame to keep his balance as Rumlow lets go of him. He’s still breathing heavily, looking back into the room with a frown.
"What?" Rumlow asks, tucking himself in and rearranging his clothes. "You don’t expect us to share a cigarette or some sweet cuddles afterwards, do you?"
Bucky shakes his head. "Nah," he says, "Rather cuddle a fucking snake." One of the poisonous ones, down at the aquarium, Bucky thinks. Or one of those giant frogs. Bucky snorts. At least they are kinda slippery.
"Good," Rumlow says, "Then I trust you can show yourself out."
Our share of night, post!WS Bucky/Rumlow, Fill 3/?
---
Bucky comes to appreciate many things about Rumlow.
For one, he’s the only person who doesn’t walk on eggshells around Bucky. Beneath his sarcastic grin and cocky demeanor, Rumlow knows chances are high he’d lose any fair fight against the Winter Soldier, so he puts all his strength into every punch and every grip is the hardest he’s got. Sure, he touches Bucky like he hates him, but Bucky prefers being someone’s dangerous enemy to being treated like a sad, broken puppy anytime.
He stops knocking on the door after that first encounter and just lets himself in. When he enters through the window, Rumlow awaits him with his Glock aimed straight at the Soldier’s chest.
"Miss me?" Bucky smiles mildly and with a sudden twirl lurches forward and kicks the gun right out of Rumlow’s grip. The man is faster than his bulky body makes people assume, though. He hasn’t made it Commander of STRIKE because he’s a bad fighter, so in the following exchange of pleasantries he does manage to land some good punches on the Soldier's ribs and even drives a bone-rattling smack to the jaw home. Neither of them fights to kill though, it’s more a kind of ambitious fight training; just enough to get riled up a bit. When Rumlow pins him against the wall, Bucky bends forward with a feral grin and licks a drop of sweat from the other’s throat, eliciting a low growl. A rough hand settles on Bucky’s groin.
"Looks more like you missed me," Rumlow hisses into his ear.
If Bucky wanted to get out of that pin-grip, he’d go for the other man’s weaker leg: kick it out beneath Rumlow and use the moment of imbalance to bring him to the ground with a final thud. But the hand between his own legs starts kneading, and it’s not subtle either. Bucky’s exhale turns into an undignified moan and his body arches against the pressure. "You better make it worth my while then."
-
Rumlow fucks him bent over the window sill. "Try not to make that blissed out whore-face and people might not guess you’ve got my cock up your ass," he says. "And I don’t care if you come in through the door or the window or the fucking air supply – but next time you knock."
Bucky grunts. Rumlow’s staccato thrusts make him gasp for air and his dick swings against the wall repeatedly in a mix of not-enough-pleasure and pain. Bucky can’t reach down himself, and Rumlow’s got one hand firmly on Bucky’s hip and the other on his neck, bending him out the window. The apartment is rather high up and there are no windows directly opposite, but it’s not hard to imagine people watching from behind the glassy surface of the office buildings in the semi-distance.
That knowledge does things to both him and Rumlow, and Bucky can pinpoint the exact moment Rumlow comes – not only because of the way he curses or how his fingers dig into Bucky’s flesh heftily – no, Bucky always thought he could feel it when people shot off inside him; feel their dicks twitch and the wetness spreading inside his guts.
He gasps sharply as Rumlow draws out unceremoniously and smacks his ass.
"Up," he orders.
Bucky expects that Rumlow wants him to straighten up but instead feels himself being lifted up the window sill. He comes to kneel there, wood digging uncomfortably into his shins and his eyes search frantically for leverage on the house’s surface, something he’d reach for should Rumlow decide it was fun to kick him out the window with his fly still open.
He feels an arm crossing over his chest though, steadying him and taking some pressure off his shins.
"Spread your legs a little more," Rumlow says and Bucky moves his knees apart as far as the window frame allows. He’s sidetracked for a moment by the sensation of Rumlow’s cum tickling down his thighs and he all but wails as a calloused hand starts tugging at his neglected cock.
(And fuck, Rumlow’s never been a huge fan of slick, hasn’t he? And that hand chafes up and down Bucky’s skin like – ah –)
"Yeah," Rumlow says, "that’s it. Show’em what you’ve got."
Bucky tries to bite back mewls, but it’s so good and he’s so exposed and oh fuck, it’s so intense, and he, he, a-ah –
Rumlow laughs as Bucky jerks up his hips sharply; two, three, four times and keeps stroking while Bucky spills his seed out the window.
"Very nice," Rumlow chuckles. Bucky’s head almost spins too much to realize he’s supposed to grab the window frame to keep his balance as Rumlow lets go of him. He’s still breathing heavily, looking back into the room with a frown.
"What?" Rumlow asks, tucking himself in and rearranging his clothes. "You don’t expect us to share a cigarette or some sweet cuddles afterwards, do you?"
Bucky shakes his head. "Nah," he says, "Rather cuddle a fucking snake." One of the poisonous ones, down at the aquarium, Bucky thinks. Or one of those giant frogs. Bucky snorts. At least they are kinda slippery.
"Good," Rumlow says, "Then I trust you can show yourself out."