[oom] the world a cage

[from_the_outside]

This was a bad idea.

She knows it as soon as she steps outside into the cool Brooklyn evening and Bucky locks the door behind them. Her pulse kicks up in her chest the second the lock clicks and she'd give almost anything to tell him she's changed her mind, that she's not going. To slip back inside the apartment and find a safe corner to breathe until this tight spiraling anxiety in her chest loosens.

Instead, she tugs her hood up over her hair and down over her eyes, hating how familiar it is. The hood. The dark clothes. The way every part of her goes on high alert. She hasn't been outside for a full minute and she's already exhausted.

It only gets worse as they go further from the apartment. Brooklyn isn't Madripoor, there are no shadows here where she can hide, no getaway routes she knows like the back of her hand. It's only having Bucky next to her that keeps her from fading back into the darkness and making a run for it, and by the time they get to the meeting spot – a bench along the river in Brooklyn Bridge Park – every nerve is stretched to its limit.

Next time, she's telling Fury just to meet them on a rooftop somewhere.

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[nerves_of_ice]

He groans aloud, the sound ripped from him at the realization that there’s nothing under the dress but her.

“Baby, you bring me to my knees,” he tells her, trailing his fingers lightly over her skin.

[from_the_outside]

She has to drop her arms to let the dress slide from her shoulders; it puddles in silky folds at her hips and she grins at him as she puts her hands back at his neck.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Barnes, and give me a hand with this thing, huh?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles back at her, quick and bright, then kisses her mouth, her chin, her throat, working his way down her body with deliberate, focused intent.

As he does, he places his hands at her hips and begins to slide the dress lower.

[from_the_outside]

That smile undoes her as much as the hands on her skin and each precise, dedicated kiss. She'd do anything it takes to see it as often as possible; if that means a closet full of red dresses and sweet, sharp teasing to go along with each one, so be it.

She doesn't let her eyes close, no matter how much her lashes flutter at each kiss; she's too intent on watching him. Her hands stay gentle at his shoulders, the sides of his neck, in his hair as he works his way down along her body.

[nerves_of_ice]

He cherishes her with each kiss, each touch, lingering over the hollow of her throat and the line of her collarbone, trailing long slow kisses down the center of her body, over her heart before following the sweet curves of her breasts, one after the other, and lingering there as well to caress her with his tongue, paying close attention to every shift in her breathing, every small sound she makes.

Only once she's shivering wildly against his lips does he go further, sliding the dress down over her hips and letting it fall to the floor as he presses a kiss to her navel.

[from_the_outside]

Standing is getting harder and harder to do, as her breath quickens and her pulse ricochets into a gallop; as he moves slowly down along her body, leaving her a quivering mess as he goes.

The pretty red dress slips further down under his gentle, relentless pressure and puddles around her feet, leaving her bare before him, pale skin brightening with a pink flush.

“Baby,” is a groan into the quiet room that’s growing so warm. “You just love taking me apart piece by piece, don’t you?”

[nerves_of_ice]

"Yes." Simple and clear, between kisses, his mouth heated against her abdomen, her hip. "I love the sounds you make. The way you tremble. The taste of you. The feel of you against me, under me, around me."

He looks up at her, his eyes nearly black with passion. "Tell me what you want. Let me give it to you."

[from_the_outside]

“Oh, god.”

She always has opinions. Always wants exactly what she wants.

But his request flattens her completely. “Baby. I want - “

Him. Just him. Any way she can have him. “Put me on the bed and take you clothes off. I want to see you.”

But that’s not what he asked for.

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles, and it's a sweet, teasing thing. Bucky presses a quick kiss to her navel and stands, sweeping her up in his arms as he does. He cradles her to him and kisses her mouth, then puts one knee on the bed so that he can lean over and lay her gently down, her head on the pillow.

He kisses her again before he straightens up to stand in front of her. Bucky kicks off his shoes and grabs the edge of his shirt, pulling it up and off over his head in a single clean movement.

[from_the_outside]

She threads her fingers into his hair and gives a hard tug before he lets her go and does as she asked, stripping down with the same easy grace he carries in every other motion he makes. She rolls to her side and props her head on her hand, watching appreciatively.

“Dreamboat,” she says, beyond smitten. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are, baby?”

[nerves_of_ice]

"I clean up okay, I guess," he drawls, as he unfastens his pants. He pushes them and his underwear down together and steps out of them, standing unabashedly nude in front of her. The metal of his arm gleams darkly in the room's soft light, a sharp contrast to his skin.

[from_the_outside]

“Way better than okay,” she promises, and pushes up from the bed to sit on the edge, reaching to draw him in lightly, her hands at his hips. She presses a reverent kiss to his belly, another to the cut of muscle running in a diagonal slash from hip to groin.

“Much, much better than okay.”

[nerves_of_ice]

A harsh breath escapes him at the touch of her lips, the feel of her hands on his body.

"Sharon, god--"

[from_the_outside]

She hums against his skin and presses another kiss a little lower - and another, and another, until she’s pressing her mouth to his upper thigh and letting her right hand drift from his hip down along his groin.

She pauses long enough to glance up at him along the tightening line of his stomach, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth, and then she wraps her fingers around him and begins stroking slowly up and down.

[nerves_of_ice]

His back arches as his hips buck forward into the touch of her hand, making his muscles stand out and causing him to appear almost as a living sculpture in sharp, frozen lines. His head falls back as a groan escapes him.

[from_the_outside]

“Jesus.”

She breathes it against his skin, her breath a warm moist puff as she look up along his body, eyes dark beneath the heavy fringe of her lashes. “How are you real?”

Real, and here, and hers. It’s all she can take before she finishes kissing along the soft skin of his lower belly and gently replaces her fingers with her mouth.

[nerves_of_ice]

This time the sound he makes is raw with want, with need. He manages to keep his hips still enough as he lets his hands fall to rest on her shoulders, tangling his fingers in the glorious waves of her hair.

"Please," he breathes, barely able to speak. "Sharon, please."

[from_the_outside]

She teases light kisses along his hard length before setting her mouth around him, lips and tongue soft and slow, doing her best to drive him as out of his mind, as damn near feral as she feels.

His hoarse plea makes her flick a glance up and she hums, takes him deeper, then releases him long enough to to say: “Yes, baby. Anything. Tell me what you want.”

But it’s only a brief reprieve before she’s back again, mouth hot and wet, her hand stroking slowly as she listens and adjusts, paying attention to each aborted shift of his hips, the sounds he makes.

[nerves_of_ice]

Anything, she says, and he nearly falls apart right there. How can he possibly explain that she's everything, already?

He slides his left hand down her shoulder and along her arm, grasping her fingers as he sets her free hand on his hip, urging her to direct how much or how little she wants him to move as he fights for control, drowning in her touch, the feel of her mouth around him.

[from_the_outside]

There are things she remembers him enjoying; different pressures and speeds, places she would touch and tease to drive him even further out of his mind.

They’ve got time. She knows it, but it’s hard to remember. She forces herself to go slow, taking him deep and warm, laving her tongue flat against him, her hands at his hips coaxing him to push and pull in a maddeningly slow pace.

He’d asked what she wanted. This is it: him, falling apart under her touch, under her mouth.

[nerves_of_ice]

His breath grows ragged as the slow, deliberate pace she sets threatens to consume him. Every touch is intensified; every second an eternity in which he loses himself in her and in what she's doing to him.

"Sharon," he gasps, raw and wanting. "Sharon, baby--"

[from_the_outside]

Lips, tongue, mouth, hand; she’ll use everything she can to chase those burned-out groans, to hear him say her name that way. It hasn't been all that long since she begged him to call her by her name, to remind her who she is, and she cherishes each and every time he moans it into the air.

She hums deliberately around him and hollows her cheeks to take him deep and fast, then lingers as she pulls back. She does it again: fast to mind-meltingly slow, utterly devoted to pulling him apart piece by piece.

[nerves_of_ice]

She's driving him out of his mind and he goes willingly. It takes all his control to keep his feet now, lost in her. He tangles his right hand more thoroughly in her hair and tugs at her as words fail him, wanting to touch her, to feel her in every possible way, and to warn her how very close he is to the edge.

[from_the_outside]

The hand in her hair draws her back, mouth pink and eyes dark, and she responds by taking his hand and pushing back on the bed, tugging at him to come with her.

“Come on, baby,” she coaxes. “Come here. Let me take care of you.”

[nerves_of_ice]

He follows without hesitation, cupping his hand around the nape of her neck and drawing her in for a deeply passionate kiss.

"Sharon," he breathes, her name the only word he can find.