May 6th, 2026

He had been dreading the night for nearly two weeks before its arrival. Bucky had known every time Sam sent out an invite text, that he would do the civil thing and attend. It didn't mean that he wanted to.

He knew the moment he saw her, he'd want to bury his face in her hair and never let her go.

He arrived before her. Upon entering, Bucky was greeted by a lightly intoxicated Shuri, her once braided hair now loose and large, the curls covering her forehead.

"Where've you been, white boy?" She chirped, her smile wide. "The party started like an hour ago."

"No, you just got here an hour early and instantly attacked my booze." Sam called from somewhere in the kitchen and Bucky granted them with one of his rare smiles.

"It's good to see you, I'm glad I could actually make it this year." Shuri said as they entered the kitchen. Sam had a wash rag draped over his shoulder, intently attacking a block of ice with a pick.

"It's been a long time." Bucky commented, and Sam laid down the pick.

"A long time?" He inquired, cocking his head. "I haven't seen this man since my last party, and even then it was barely for an hour. What's your poison tonight?"

Bucky shrugged, and gestured his chin to the bottle of Hennessy. "I'm a busy guy. And I'll take that."

Sam poured him a glass, handing it to him with one ice cube, before the door opened and more people entered. Bucky held the glass close, nodding politely to his coworkers, answering the uninterested 'how are yous' before he eventually made his way to his spot on the porch.

She still wasn't there, and he wondered if she would be coming at all. He hadn't heard much of her the last year. She seemed to be just as under the radar as him.

And when he saw the blur of orange hair, his face immediately heating up. She exits her car, this time she's dressed in overalls, a cream sweater beneath it, her hair in a pony tail, and she's carry a plate of fruit.

They make eye contact a few paces before the steps, and she visibly swallows as she climbs them, pausing next time him, in front of the door.

"Happy end game." She says, a tight smile on her face.

He can only nod in the awkwardness of it all, and she enters the house. The music has already started, the sound of Clints' cheering and Sams' laughing echos in Buckys' ears.

He takes a sip, then another, gazing out at the porch, the water, the old sail boat moving like a lonely captain.

The screen door creaks as she opens it, then slams back into place as she releases it. She stands on the opposite side of the door, mimics his stance as she leans and its quiet between them.

Her shoulders are tight; he can tell when he looks to his right at her. She seems to be lost in thought, and his staring goes unnoticed. She's the most beautiful when she thinks she's alone. It looks like her hairs been cut, the tendrils not as long as he remembered. Her eyes, the green emeralds, are bright, unfocused, arms crossed over her stomach. The rays from the porch light bounce off her cheeks and hair, and she's almost shining. Lips parted, he stares at them unabashedly, wishing he could kiss them again, part them, nip them.

He stares at her but it makes him realize he'll never have her; not in the way he wants. He'll never be good enough for her, and he'll never get to prove that fact otherwise.
Won't ever be able to hold her, cherish her. Never love her.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to stare?"

His cheeks heat instantly, turning his eyes away and clears his throat, trying to find something new to look at.

Everything else is black and white.

"I know my mother did." She continued, picking at her sweater. He nods, takes a sip. Doesn't trust himself enough to engage in conversation. "She taught me a lot."

She pauses, flicking lint off her sweater. Bucky takes another sip.

"You could've fucked me last year and you didn't. Why not?"

He chokes on the liquor. He coughs, his mind whirly of what the fuck he was supposed to say to that.

A small candle of hope lit inside him at the fact that she remembered what had happened at all, much less mentioned it. The night he had stepped away from the brightest thing he'd ever encountered. Her commentary also answered his unasked question; she had wanted to fuck him too.

"You were drunk." He says, trying to keep his voice even.

"So?" She counters, her tone puzzled. "What's that got to do with anything? You were drinking too I believe."

He had been, and he's surprised again at the details she recalls.

"You would've blamed the alcohol, said it was a mistake." He says though gritted teeth. "If I fuck you, I want you to know it, to 100% choose it. To know you wanted to do that, and that it was me who had you sounding like that."

She hums, her gaze aimed at the sea, and he takes a sip again, hoping it'll calm the rattle in his chest.

"I wouldn't have blamed the alcohol," she comments, her finger tapping her chin. "I wanted it."

"Guess we'll never know." Bucky mummers into his glass, aiming to sound impassive, before setting it down on the railing. He proceeds to stare at it just to avoid her eyes. The porch shakes slightly as she walks over to him, stopping so that she's barely an arms length away.

Her green eyes shine, a determination boiling beneath the surface. Slowly, she takes his hand, gently squeezing before placing it on her hip.

"Don't you want to find out?" She asks, her voice meek, not sounding nearly as brave as she looks and Bucky is certain his brain short circuits.

She's very beautiful, especially this close. He wonders if she knows that.

Wanda is kissing him before he can think of a response, her mouth sliding over his in a deliciously slow movement. It's patient and hopeful, mixed with a little fear, and he's never been so relieved. His hand moves up from her hip, encasing her ribs and she takes a step closer, their chests brushing. The movements electric, and he encircles her back, making her flush against him as her hand goes to his neck.

He's dreamt about kissing her again, about her cherry lip balm. About feeling her pressed against him, making her shiver.

It's like dancing. He used to love dancing during the 40's, before the war, before he'd been mutilated. He'd enjoyed it, the ease of dancing with a pretty girl in a low lit bar, and now it felt as if their mouths were moving in time with a beat.

Cupping her face, he tilts it, nipping her lip, then licking it softly. She seems to like that, her hands on his jacket lapel, pulling him to her. Her tongue brushes his teeth, twisting, deepening the kiss and he groans against her.

The hand on her ribs moves to the middle of her lower back, holding her, and he's gentle as he walks forward, her front still pressed to him, until she's backed against the railing. He breaks the kiss just for a moment, and holds her eyes as he bends slightly, gripping below her knees, pushing her to sit on the railing. She obliges quickly, pulling him between her legs and he steps into her like she's home.

One hand still below her knee, he pulls it up slightly, and she hums, kissing him as her arms wrap around his neck. He's hard, straining, and the sounds she's making causes him to stiffen even more, if that were possible. With his free hand he holds her neck, the pressure light as he peppers her mouth.

He can't help but shift, and she scoots closer, pressing her clothed core into him and he nearly yelps.

"Wanda..."

She moves her torso, grinding lightly, and bites his bottom lip, holding it there between her teeth and pulls. Bucky groans low, his grip on her neck tightening.

He pulls away just barely, sucking in oxygen, and she moves to his neck, teeth scraping. Her kisses are hot, damp against his skin and he hopes there will be marks tomorrow.

Her hips rock into him, and his hand drops her knee, tangling in her hair. Biting down, he winces slightly, before she licks over the skin gently, pressing a kiss to the spot, then up until she meets his earlobe, taking it in her teeth.

Pulling her head back, she stares at his face. "Please."

He could combust.

Tightening his grip on her hair, he yanks, and she gasps as his lips press to her jaw, one hand holding the side of her face.

It's rougher, and obviously that's how she wants it, as she rocks herself against him again. Groaning against her throat, he pulls hard, and sucks at a spot just below her ear.

Her body tenses, fingers frozen and her legs lock around his hips. He grins against her skin.

Pulling back, he grabs her face in one hand, her cheeks squished slightly between his thumb and index finger. "You have a choice to walk away right now."

She pouts, tries to grab him, but he keeps her still, eyebrows raised in questioning. "I don't want to walk away."

Her fingers seem to work again and she's pulling at his jacket, attempting to push it off his shoulders, but his grip on her face is hard. She glares, then her eyes soften, and she opens her mouth, her tongue pressing flat against the skin of his hand.

His eyes widen, grip loosening, and she takes his hand in hers before sticking his finger in her mouth. Eyes trained on his, she sucks, her cheeks slightly hollowed, and he can feel her tongue flick against his knuckles.

His brain fries, skin alight, and he damn near pants. He doesn't want to stop, but he needs to hear her say it, needs to make sure she verbally confirms she wants him.

"Use your words, little witch." He mummers as he watches her assault his hands.

"I want you to fuck me so well I forget how to spell my name."

The sound of her voice vibrates against his finger, and he pulls it from her mouth, a wet pop! sounding before he leans down.

She's grinning, knowing exactly how well she's affecting him, prideful that he's aching because of her. Gripping her thighs, he picks her up, her legs fasting around his hips, and he begins to walk them off the porch, down to his bike.

She laughs, her hair bouncing as they step, and he loves the sound.

The ride is quick, Wanda attempting to palm him as they drive and he weakly swats her hands, the action far too distracting for him to be able to navigate while feeling that.

She kisses his neck and the back of his jacket when he parks, standing before the engine has even cooled, and he slaps her ass as he gets off the bike. She's hungry, starving, pulling at his shirt as he closes the door, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, successfully this time, and yanks at the bottom of his shirt. He slides the overalls down her shoulders, pulling her to him on his couch.

The apartment is dark, but she slides into his lap with ease, nipping and licking at him. She's panting as he lifts his shirt off, nails raking down his chest, and he sucks on her neck. She moans, shifting against him, and Bucky cannot believe his luck. She's half dressed, wearing only her top and panties, the thin cloth allowing her heat to become more tangible.

She smells like honey, and he wants to devour her.

He isn't sure when she undid his jeans. He stands, lifting her with him, and she moves his jeans down roughly with her feet, her mouth still searching for his, still hungry.

It's clumsy and fumbling and he's blissful, caring about nothing but the redhead in his lap.

He plops back down, and she blows his chest. He grunts, sliding his hands into her hair as Wanda feelings down his front. She pulls back, eyes blown.

"What are you waiting for, solider?" She smiles, a childish grin on her face. He nips at her lip, dropping a hand down and giving her hip a squeeze. "Where's the bedroom?" He goes to answer but she cuts him off. "Fuck it, fuck me right here."

His brows raise high, and she laughs before kissing him again.

They kiss hurriedly, hearts racing, blood pumping in his ears as he grips the hem of her shirt. Her hands are up and it's over her head in an instant.

His mouth waters. She isn't wearing a bra.

He nearly buries his face in her chest, licking the skin on the left as his hand palms the right. Her head arch back, eyes shut, and he twists her nipple. She hums, fingers gripping his shoulders and he gives a tentative lick. Her skin is smooth as he takes her into his mouth, hands wrapping around her waist.

"James James James." She hums, and he's shocked at his real name. It sounds official in her voice, reverent, and his cock strains against her. She must feel it, because her hips move, grinding into him and he bites gently.

She gasps, gripping his face and pulling him away from the glory that are her tits, kissing him hard.

He gulps her, wishing he could inhale her. Her cheeks and chest are pink, her eyes shining as she removes herself from his lap, pulling at his hands to stand with her. Her fingers are on the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down before he's fully standing. She grips him and he's instantly dizzy.

She's on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth to his, tongue poking and prodding as her hand strokes him slowly. He's aching, submissively opening his mouth to her, and she pours herself into him with every kiss.

He stutters, and she pushes him back against the couch softly, releasing her hold on him. His cock slaps against his stomach as he looks at her with lust covered eyes. She smiles, before she bends and her underwear is gone. He drinks in her naked form.

Nipples peaked from exposure, her breasts are creamy, with a faded scar just below her collarbone. Her ribs poke through her skin, hip bones jutting, and she's smooth all over. She watches him look at her, and cups her sides.

"I know, I know," she sighs, taking a step forward. "I should eat more."

He reaches for her, and she melts into his hold, legs on opposite sides of his thighs. Balancing herself, she holds onto his shoulders, and he grips her behind the knees, hands tracing up her thighs, hips, caressing her breasts before settling on her hips again.

"Nah," he whispers, and she holds his eyes as she takes him in her hand, aligning herself. "You're perfect."

She pauses, looking down and then back at him.

Fear is drawn so perfectly on her face it could be a famous painting, like The Boreas.

"You — you shouldn't want this, not with me," Wanda says, voice tight, her grip loosing. "I'll burn you."

He can't believe what he's hearing. A literal angel, thinking she could stain him. Impossible.

Bucky grabs the hand that's gripping him, and interlaces their fingers, before bringing it to his mouth. He kisses her knuckles. "I've wanted you since that first time I saw you on that front porch." Kisses her hand again, this time shutting his eyes. "Don't go telling me I don't want this, cuz I do."

"What will our friends think?" She whispers, her voice impossibly low.

He kisses her hand again. "Fuck 'em."

She cups his face and pulls him to her. "Stop overthinking," he whispers. She places a chaste kiss on his lips. "Don't let a few maybes take you away from me." Her eyes are wet, and he kisses the corner of her mouth. "Not when I've been waiting so long."

She's staring at him, still bracing herself above him before she bends down, aligns herself and slowly sinks. She's smooth, warm, her eyes closing as he bites down on his cheek to keep from completely coming undone.

Rocking her hips slowly, Wanda lets out a breathy moan.

He's officially died and gone to heaven.

Knees settled by his hips, she looks down to where they are joined, before glancing at him and grabs his hand. Lacing their fingers, she rocks again and this time he doesn't hold back. His groan is deep, parched. Like a man dying of thirst.

He watches her move, hands light on her hips, traveling up her abdomen to cup her breasts, feel her skin. She's warm, blissfully so, and when she raises up instead of rocking, he misses the contact.

She slides back down easily.

Leaning forward, she kisses him as she rocks, her hands in his hair, pulling, and he nips at her. He tugs her lip and she lets out another sweet song.

"Keep goin'" he praises, squeezing her hips. "s'perfect, you're doing so well."

She smiles at his words, he can feel it against his lips, and her hands leave his hair to scratch lightly down his chest.

He needs to go faster, wants to see how well she can take him when he's the one directing, but he holds himself back. Right now, it's about her. And she's doing a damn fine job at it.

Bucky kisses her throat, and she clenches around him. He nearly comes right there, nearly forgetting what it had felt like to be inside a woman. He grips her hips tightly, almost certain she'll be bruised.

"One sec, one sec," he practically wheezes and she gives him a quizzical look before realizing what he meant. "You're too fucking good."

"Says you." She laughs lightly, and nips his earlobe. She's sweating, a light shine on her brow and her cheeks are rosy, hair sticking to the back of her neck.

Bucky grins, placing his hands back on her hips tightly and thrusts up into her. She gasps, her surprise so clear, and her lids flutter.

He does it again and again, his grip bruising, pace quick but timed, and Wanda arches as he moves under her. Her tits bouncing in his face, he reaches for one, licking the side.

"D-don't stop," she says, head tipping forward until her cheek is against his temple. Her hair falls into his face and he inhales deeply, reveling in it.

His core muscles are tense, hands rigid on her, lips sore. Happiest he's ever felt.

The couch makes a bumping sound as it moves on the floor in time with his thrusts. The apartment smells like sex, and he thinks he should probably get a candle. Or better yet, leave the smell and get turned on every time he sits on his couch.

She moves her head back from his temple, smashing their mouths together. They're a mix of teeth and spit and sweat. The kiss is messy, slightly sloppy, the type of kiss you have with someone special. It makes his insides flip.

Gripping her tightly, he stands, flipping them so that her back is laying on the couch and he hovers above her. His dog tag comes into view, hanging between them. He completely forgot he had it on.

"Why two?" She questioned, nodding at it. He sinks into her, and she moans, gripping his bicep.

"One's mine," he grunts, thrusting again. "The others is Steve's." He moves again, and she mewls, legs wrapped around his hips.

"O-oh?" The word comes out more of a question, and Bucky grins, sinking in again. Her eyes roll back.

He jackhammers himself into her, the pace maddening, the grip deathly, and she takes it all. His core burns, right arm aching, but he doesn't quit. Not when she's looking so lovely like that.
She flutters around him, biting the inside of her cheek, and he nearly comes himself when he realizes she's close. Her mouth opens, and then shuts, her eyes blown. He slows slightly, easing his grip, and she grabs his dog tags, yanking his face close.

"Don't fucking stop," she sighs, her breath fanning across from him. Her eyes go wide. "Please don't."

He can feel a bit of his old 40's playboy-self peek out, his ladies-man charm spiking at the fact that she was pleading with him to let her come.

He was, in fact, a gentleman. And a man makes such a lady always comes first.

He kisses her gently, her mouth opening to him, before slamming into her. She all but screams.

The pace is punishing. His head falls next to her jaw, and he kisses the junction between her neck and shoulder as he moves, hips snapping.

She's humming against him, saying something low and he strains to hear.

More, more, please more.

She flutters, clenching him, and he's aching, his sides burning. Reaching down, his thumb finds her most delicate area. Her legs jerk, and she locks around his hips, eyes screwed tight.

He wants to tease her, wants to draw it out longer but hadn't she asked so politely? He presses his thumb against her, and her mouth opens, lips slick with spit.

She looks blissful as she unravels.

"Look at you," he mummers as her breathing returns. His head drops to her shoulder. He's grunting into her neck, his own release rapidly approaching. "So good for me."

"Yes, look at me." She says, and he leans up from her neck, eyes taking in her face. He comes almost immediately.

Bucky collapses, his arms exhausted from an activity its not used to, and Wanda wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. He slides out of her gently, his cock empty and satisfied. By the look on her face, so is she. He pulls her hand so that she's sitting up, and they lay against the back of the couch, chests heaving, catching their breath.

"Could've had that last year." She says when she finally catches her breath. He gives her a raised brow before chuckling.

"Was worth the wait."

She bites her lip, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Yeah, it was."

He shows her where the bathroom is, gives her a towel to clean off. Ten minutes later she calls his name, pulling him in with her and he fucks her against the tile wall.