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It didn’t hit him what was happening until the second time he caught her wearing it. It was almost always on a wash day when all of her other household favorites were in the hamper and she was down to the last resort.
The dress wasn’t even particularly revealing, but he enjoyed the bright pop of color on Sarah’s skin and the way the soft fabric clung to her curves. She would usually wear it with bike shorts underneath, as the dress stopped above her knees, but that only turned Bucky on more for some unnameable reason.
It never failed to turn his head when he’d see her in it. An all out assault on his attention — whatever he was doing would immediately be de-prioritized. He took to following her from room to room, pretending it was conversation he was interested in, when really he just couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Eventually he’d drop all pretense and corner her in the laundry room, the pantry, the bathroom, wherever she would find a moment of pause — he was there. He’d run his hands over the soft cotton, push up her dress, strip off the barriers and do what had been running through his mind all day.
It was safe to say, the dress made him absolutely feral.
Sometimes it would be weeks before she wore it again, but it never failed. Sarah would wear the dress and he would get wound up tighter than a toy soldier.
He grew a sort of Pavlovian response to even seeing it. Once, when Sarah had gone to take a shower, he spotted the dress laid across the bed and felt himself grow warm just imagining her tugging up those shorts and sliding the dress over her body. The baby blue would light her brown eyes up like gemstones. He’d walked into the room on a mission and ended up completely unable to recall what he’d been doing in the first place.
He went back and forth about calling her out on it, not wanting to spook her out of wearing the dress, but also slightly concerned about the veracity of his response to an article of clothing. Granted, he couldn’t imagine he’d be reacting this way if it were anyone but Sarah. Something about her in that dress had him clawing up the walls. He was losing his mind.
Eventually he bit the bullet and caught up to her in the closet one quiet afternoon, hanging up freshly washed clothes.
“So…,” he began, and leant against the door frame. “I’m sure you know by now that I know what you’re doing.”
Sarah turned toward him, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “What?”
Bucky dropped his eyes, then slid them slowly up her figure until their gazes met. He was already getting hard. “Sarah.”
“What? What am I doing?”
“You know that dress drives me crazy, and you always wear it when you know I’ve got things to do.”
Sarah’s laugh was equal parts incredulous and delighted when she turned to face him fully, bemused. “James, baby, I did not wear this for you.”
“Oh, yeah?” He said, stalking toward her with his hands in his pockets. If he didn’t keep them tucked away, they’d be all over her before he got to the bottom of this. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? You didn’t start wearing it as often until you saw the effect it had on me.”
Sarah chuckled and shook her head. “Okay, Sherlock Holmes…”
“No, let me finish,” he said, now just a hair’s breadth away from her, and pinned her beneath his unwavering gaze. “It’s almost always when we’re alone in the house and I’ve got a project to finish.”
The first time she wore it, he was assembling the new entertainment center for the living room.
The second time, he was repairing the leaky pipe under the sink and nearly brained himself trying to get a good look at her when she passed through the kitchen.
The third time, he’d been about to sit down and go over a report for Sam’s latest mission. Needless to say, his ass never touched that seat.
And so on. How he didn’t realize it sooner was a testament to the kind of distraction Sarah proved to be when she was wearing that dress.
Sarah didn’t bother hiding her smirk, guilty and just slightly embarrassed, and Bucky didn’t hold back when he finally leant forward to kiss her.
“You’re crazy, Bucky Barnes,” she panted, when they pulled apart to breathe. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Uh-huh.”
His hands were already balling up the sides of her dress before she even finished her sentence, thumbs tucked into the waistband of her shorts and underwear. He shucked both off and helped her step out of them, before working on his belt buckle.
“You're a devious woman, Sarah Wilson-Barnes,” he growled, and dove forward to press their lips together, licking into her mouth. “Come 'ere.”
He grasped the back of her supple thighs and hoisted them up around his hips, waiting until she wrapped her arms around his neck before he slid his grip up to spread her open.
Bucky gasped as her slick warmth swallowed him, adjusting his hold so one arm supported her back and the other kept her thigh locked around him as he moved.
“Been losing my mind over you all day, sweetheart,” he breathed into her mouth, listening to her hitched breaths as he pressed into her. When she threw her head back, he was there, nipping the soft, sweet skin of her throat. “God, you're amazing.”
Sarah whimpered, nails sinking into the meat of his shoulders. He slowed them down to a grind, preferring to feel her body rolling against him as he sank into her again and again. There was nothing in the world that could distract him from this; all five senses honed on her, in service of her pleasure. He didn’t just want Sarah, he needed her like the last damned drop of water on the planet.
She gripped his hair and directed his face back up to hers, breath fanning across his cheeks. He tightened the arm around her back just to feel her breasts brush up against his chest and her soft thighs clutching his sides. She was so plush and alive in his hands, having her like this was the height of his joy.
He took her lips nice and slow, dipping into her open mouth, sucking her tongue between his lips. She groaned, the sound filling the small space.
“I’m getting close,” she breathed, panting against him. “Harder, please…”
Bucky nodded, adjusting his hold to grasp her hips with both hands. “Hold on, baby.”
The damned dress bunched up over his hands as he thrust into her, admiring the way her brown skin shimmered with moisture, the pool of sweat at the base of her neck, the perfect sounds falling from her full mouth. He could do this all day.
He reached down, using his thumb to stimulate her as she tipped closer to her peak, unable to keep his eyes any one place. Bucky could never get enough of seeing his wife like this, her brown eyes soft and trusting, glazed with lust. The way she so completely gave herself to him was intoxicating.
He could feel it when she came, the way her slick hold tightened around him, wetness coating his hardness, her thighs. His eyes rolled back into his head and then he was releasing into her. He didn’t even realize how loud he’d been at the end until only the sound of their jagged breathing remained.
“Fuck.”
“Mm-hm.”
“You okay?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I’m just gonna—“
He slid out of her, relishing the weight of her in his hands before he placed her gingerly back on her feet. Bucky bit his lip, smiling as he put himself back together and watched her shimmy the dress back down her hips. Sarah met his stare with an admiring one of her own, smug appreciation in the tilt of her lips — she had him wrapped around every single one of her fingers and she knew it. He’d do anything just to make her happy.
“Good talk." She grinned, patting him on the ass as she skirted past him with a bounce in her step.
Bucky chuckled and followed her out, already looking forward to next time.