He was vibrant in her arms, and Natasha's head was already reeling from the intensity of their heated, messy kisses. Bucky's whispered words had her mewling softly, pulling her hands away from his to plunge both into his shaggy hair, feeling her entire body begin to burn, needy.

The sting of teeth in her lower lip made her gasp, and Natasha managed to open her eyes just enough to see him, so close, and she dug her fingers into broad shoulders, whining, "...James, please," in a low, begging voice, pale silk already bunched at her waist. He was rutting against her, fabric still separating skin from skin, and Natasha gave a frustrated little grunt, brazenly yanking at cumbersome cotton.