You slam the door behind you, heart still pounding from the mission, and Bucky is already on you. No words at first, just his metal hand locking around your wrist and yanking you against the wall. "Strip," he growls, voice low and rough like gravel. You don't hesitate. Shirt off, pants kicked away, panties shoved down your thighs until you're bare in front of him. His eyes drag over your tits and the wet spot between your legs.
Bucky doesn't waste time. He shoves two thick fingers straight into your cunt, no teasing, just a hard thrust that makes you gasp. "Fuck, you're soaked already," he mutters, pumping them deep and fast. His thumb grinds on your clit while his flesh hand pins your hip to the wall. You moan loud, hips rocking into his hand, and he laughs once, dark. "That's it. Take it."
He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, then yanks his own pants open. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the head already leaking. He spins you around, bends you over the table, and slams inside you in one brutal thrust. You cry out, walls stretching around him, and he doesn't stop. He fucks you hard, hips snapping, balls slapping your ass with every stroke. The table creaks under you.
"Goddamn, this pussy's tight," Bucky snarls, metal hand gripping your shoulder while his other slaps your ass red. "Gripping my cock like you need it." He reaches around and rubs your clit in fast circles, driving deeper until you feel him hit that spot that makes your vision blur. Your legs shake. You push back against him, chasing it, and he gives you more, pounding faster, skin slapping skin.
You come first, cunt clenching hard around him, juices dripping down your thighs. Bucky doesn't slow. He fucks you through it, then pulls out and spins you to face him again. He lifts you like nothing, metal arm under your ass, and impales you back on his cock. Your back hits the wall. He thrusts up into you, relentless, sweat slicking his chest against yours.
"Open your mouth," he orders. You do, and he spits on your tongue before kissing you messy and deep. His cock drags against your walls, thick and hot, every stroke dragging a wet sound from your soaked pussy. "Gonna fill you up," he grunts. "Want that load dripping out of you all night."
You nod, moaning his name, nails digging into his back. He slams harder, faster, until his rhythm breaks and he buries himself to the hilt. Hot cum floods you, pulse after pulse, overflowing around his cock.
He stays buried, breathing ragged against your neck, then slowly lowers you to your feet.
But he's not done. Bucky drops to his knees, spreads your thighs, and licks his own cum out of your cunt, tongue lapping broad and filthy. You grab his hair and ride his face until you come again, thighs clamping his head. He stands, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and bends you over the couch for round two.
This time he takes it slower at first, long deep strokes that make you feel every inch, then builds back to that raw, pounding rhythm that leaves you wrecked and begging. By the time he's finished, you're a shaking, cum-streaked mess on the cushions, his handprint fading on your ass and his taste still on your tongue. He pulls you against his chest after, metal fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin, both of you catching your breath in the quiet.
