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Natalia sniggered, but her breath caught with the retributive thrust of his hips, and she pouted a little when he pulled away, mourning the loss of her warm blanket of muscle. But yes, they were both a mess, that wasn't an exaggeration.

"Me, too," she admitted, curling on one side to scoot closer to his coveted warmth. She felt filthy, used, and thoroughly debauched, but wasn't it the best feeling she'd ever, ever felt? She thought that it was.

But then he asked her that, and she ducked her head against his chest, not wanting him to see the flood of heat that colored her cheeks a dull scarlet. Because, "...da." A beat. "...all the time." The slim arms around his waist tightened, and she curled closer. "It used to rip me apart inside, that you thought I was someone else."

Someone he might like better, at that.

"I was never Jean-Marc. Or Vassily. Or any of the others. When I was in your bed, I was James," Bucky admits softly. "Even if I couldn't tell you my name until the very end, I was never anything but James with you even if I couldn't tell you that name. I was always just myself. I didn't act when I was with you. Not even once."

Not even the first time. There had been no strategic advantage in seducing her. There had been no reason to get close to her or try to have her confess anything to him. The only reason he'd ever been with Natalia had been personal from the very beginning and he wants her to know that now.

"I was always James even if you didn't know who James was just yet. I'm only James with you. But, if you like it when I speak French, I guess I can pull out a little of Jean-Marc."

Even though it was all she'd ever wanted to hear, it was still hard to hear it. Because hearing it reminded her of all the time they'd lost between them, and the entirely different worlds they'd come from. Natalia burrowed her head beneath James's chin, holding him tight as if he might at any moment disappear from her arms.

His following quip had her smirking, however, and she tipped her head back enough to smirk up at him. "Gotta give you props, gorgeous, your French is absolutely flawless. I really thought you were a Frog that first time, until you dropped the accent after you shoved me up against that brick wall behind that ratty little store."

"Je t'aime, ma chatounette," he whispers, using the French she likes so much on her. If she's going to say he sounded like a native the first time around, he'll show her why he sounds that good. French had been the easiest to learn in New York; it'd been nothing to go up across the border to Montreal and speak with native speakers there. Jean-Marc had been Quebecois after all, not Parisian.

"I'll give you French lessons any time you want, kitten. Just say the word. I'm good with my tongue. It comes along with the whole spy thing. You're pretty good with yours, too, so it's not like I'm doing all the work."

It's terrible flirting but he likes it anyway. He rubs the back of her neck with long fingers. "What'd you think about the real accent? The first time?"

Natalia purred in response, nuzzling against his cheek and his lips, giving soft kisses now that passion had been, for the moment, somewhat slaked. "I don't need French lessons, Jean-Marc," she told him with a sly smirk. "I can speak French almost as well as you can." Granted, hers came with a tinge of Northeastern Europe, but when she concentrated, it took a dedicated linguist to pick up on it.

She laughed to his admittedly horrible flirting, running her fingernails lightly down Bucky's ribcage. "You're magnifique with your tongue, mon amour, I have no complaints. But hearing you talk like a Yank just then sort of...threw me." She colored lightly, but shrugged and added, "Although I was more concerned with your tongue in my mouth and your hands yanking at my panties right about then to really give it too much thought."

Natalia grinned, easing her fingers between those thick, hard thighs. "But the inner city drawl is so very hot, James...God, it really is.."

Bucky thinks it through for a second when she describes how the first time went and he remembers something she'd said earlier. He'd been her only. That meant...oh God. No. He couldn't have done that, could he?

"You said I was the only one? Your first time was in an alley with me flipping your skirt up and yanking your panties down? Jesus Christ. I'm sorry, Natalia. Really. You're worth a hell of a lot more than that. You gonna forgive me for doing that to you?"

Her fingers are between his thighs and he gets a little distracted. "I wouldn't have done it that way if I knew. You know that, right?"

Hearing the sudden panic in his voice, Natalia paused in her teasing, pulling her hand away and looking up at him with a worried frown. "Um...da?" She gave a small shrug, sliding her arms back around him again. "It's no big deal, James. It was my choice to even let you, in the first place," she told him, wrinkling her nose a little playfully.

"But now I'm curious." Slim fingers drifted down his belly again, teasing and touching. "How would you have done it, as you say? If you'd known, back then?"

"It would have been soft," James says, licking his lower lip and sighing when she drops her fingers lower. It's one of the places on his body that's the most sensitive but he thinks she probably knows that; they've been together enough times that she knows his body in and out.

"It would have been sweet. I would have taken my time with you and make sure you felt loved."

"...soft and sweet," she mused, tracing small patterns beneat his navel, slowly winding her way further south. "That doesn't really sound like you, James." He'd never really been gentle with her; their passions roared far too high for that. And the added spice of danger and death only made them more frantic for each other.

"We've never been able to take our time," she added, dark eyes watching the stroke of his tongue over his lip, hungry for it herself. "...have we?" Unable to resist any longer, Natalia eased upwards and mirrored his movement, tip of her tongue gliding over Bucky's lower lip before slipping smoothly into his mouth.

Bucky barely manages a "No," before she's kissing him and he rolls her under him, caging her in with his arms. He's never had time with her and now they have nothing but time. For now, they have to hide, and he imagines a lot of their time is going to be spent right here in this bedroom.

He shifts his knees to push hers apart wide, half-hard and rolling against her to try and get some relief. He hasn't spent a lot of time just kissing, though, and he wants to do it thoroughly before he moves on to something else.

He draws his tongue along hers for a moment before tugging his teeth at her lower lip, hoping to see it swell up full for him.

She moaned into his mouth, eagerly winding her arms around his neck to hold him close as their mouths met. Her hips lifted to meet his, a lean bare leg coiling sinuously around Bucky's hips as they moved together, as perfectly as if they'd been made for nothing else.

They had all the time in the world, now. Perhaps Fate was being kind, for the moment. Granting her a reprieve from the hell she'd suffered through for her entire life. Because this, him, was all she'd ever, ever wanted.

He tugged at her lower lip and she mewled, whimpering softly but greedily licking at his lips with her own questing tongue. "...you know I love you," Natalia whispered in the heat between them. "You. James Barnes." Then her grin flashed and green eyes twinkled. "And all the men you made up to chase after me."

"That was it," he teases back, thinking about the haircuts, the dye, the contacts - every single way he pretended to be someone else and ended up with her all the same. Everyone had a different language and a different story but none of them mattered in bed and especially not in this bed. He laughs softly and pulls her down to kiss her soundly.

"I made up every identity to see which one you liked the best. Didn't think you'd like plain ol' Brooklyn so I went with the French first. Then I found out you had a Russian thing going so I was Russian. You see how I figured out my plan. Smart girl."

"I have to admit," Natalia told him, trailing fingernails up and down Bucky's back, "Jean-Marc was a favorite. You made a gorgeous Frenchman, smoking those thins and constantly running your hand through your hair. And it was black, then, too." She demonstrated the same, letting her fingers card through his shaggy hair.

"And I am Russian, so that was easy. I just had to dye my hair blonde, throw on some high heels and diamonds, and speak my native language, and you were hooked, Vassily." She smirked up at him. "Gotta say, though - I never imagined you'd ever show up as a redhead. It was a darker red, thank God, otherwise you'd have looked like a washed up Irishman."

She fell into kissing him again, moving from his lips to his cheek, then down the strong column of his neck, sucking lightly at salty skin, sweet under her mouth.

"I always wondered if you'd like just me. Just Bucky," he admits, voice gone soft both at the kisses she's laving on him but also because he's wistful now at what had been and hopeful for what's to come. Maybe his marriage had been doomed from the start but ever since he'd been with Natalia the first time, it'd never recovered. It'd never been the same.

"Ruined my marriage for you. I'd ruin myself over and over for you even if you didn't know it," he murmurs. He cards thick fingers through her curls. "I'd let you destroy me in and out, you know that? Too weak for you by half."

"I love you, Natalia. Just you. Just as you come."

She fell still, and quiet, hearing all of that. And it took a minute or so for Natalia to lift her head and meet those lovely eyes, her own gaze a little...pained. "...I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, resting her cheek against his. "...I didn't mean to. I just--just couldn't...stay away from you."

Not even once she'd learned who he really was - James Barnes, CIA; she'd still been drawn like a moth to a flame, unerringly.

"...I knew who you were, before Athens," Natalia admitted. "That last time we were together. And..." she lowered her eyes, bit at her lower lip, "...and I-I knew you were married. Had a life here. But..." She took a breath. "But I wanted to know...if you still--if you still wanted me...your Sasha, your Alexia." Her lips twisted ruefully. "Your Sophie."

Trembling fingers gently touched his rough cheek. "...I didn't want to...didn't mean to hurt you, James, if I did." Natalia bit her lower lip, again. "I just--just wanted you."

"You never hurt me," he says quietly. "That marriage was doomed from the start. But you...you haunted me. I didn't care who you were, I just wanted you. I fell in love with what makes you you. You couldn't hide it under all those disguises. You couldn't hide it when you dissembled just like I couldn't hide me. I just didn't know if any of them were your real name."

When he says she knew before Athens and that she knew he was married, he pauses for a moment. "That was early. How did you keep from outing me, Natalia? And I take back the hurting thing. You shot me in the damn shoulder and that still hurts. Know why you did it, though, and it saved my life. Good on you."

Gentle fingertips ghosted over the scarred skin of his left shoulder. "I had to," she murmured. "Ronin would have killed you, otherwise." Shostakov had wanted James' blood, that had been certain. She didn't share the aftermath of that disastrous mission; the weeks she'd spent on HDYRA's "reconditioning" table, and how she'd finally convinced her jailers that she was "fixed".

"Widows aren't conditioned the same way as HYDRA's other operatives," Natalia told him softly. "They're trained from childhood, brought up to believe that there is no other way, than to obey. Compliance is all that they know. The mental programming used on the other operatives would hinder a Widow's ability to destabilize, because she wouldn't have enough of a sense of herself, to pretend to be someone else."

Her fingers still ran gently over his skin, covetous just to touch him. "I didn't out you because they couldn't make me," she stated simply. "You were my secret. They couldn't inflict enough pain to break you out of me."

"Could have gotten you killed. Can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing for you, though. Doing it now, actually. If it comes to HYDRA, me, and you - they have to go through me first. I won't let them have you. I absolutely will not let them have you."

He tightens his hold on her and brushes a kiss against her hair. "Don't care how much they'd torture me. Can't have you."

He means that more than he's ever meant anything, he thinks, and he sighs heavily because as much as he would like to keep talking, those soft touches are too alluring to ignore. He drifts his fingers along her bare skin. "I'll fight for you until I die."

Though she knew he meant those heavy promises, Natalia shook her head. "No, James," she told him firmly. "I don't want you getting killed because of me." She gripped him right back, clutching tight.

"We both know they're going to come for me; tomorrow, a month from now, two, but they will. And you have to promise me you won't do anything foolish...like take them head on."

Because she knew that he would, the stubborn fool.

"I love you too much to lose you to them. I can't." Her grip tightened. "I won't." She kissed him fiercely, as if she could brand her possession of him into his very skin. "Promise me." ...even though she knew he'd break it.

"You know I can't promise you I won't go after them," Bucky says, breathless from the kiss. "I gotta protect my girl, you know that. I gotta keep you safe from anyone who comes out here. You know that. You know that."

Bucky knows it's reckless but so is laying in this bed with this woman he's supposed to be protecting as a witness, too. He'd lose his badge over this but he doesn't fucking care, not when it's Natalia, and he'll take another round in the shoulder if it means it doesn't hit her.

"I'll try to be careful. But I'm putting me between you and them."

Yes, she knew. Just as she knew she'd sacrifice anything and everything to keep him out of the line of fire. There wasn't really anything else to say about it, because they were both stubborn and determined and loved each other so fiercely that all she could do was stare at him for a long moment, then kiss him again. Hard, desperate, as if it were the last time she ever would.

"...you're an idiot," she told him, a little breathless, and sad, pressing her forehead against his when they finally parted for air. "And I love you for it, James. So damned much it scares me."

Natalia coiled back around him, bare leg hitching high over Bucky's hip as she held him close. "I never want to leave here," she whispered. "I finally have you, and you're mine." Gentle but deadly hands softly carded through his hair. "All I've ever wanted, to be here, like this, with you."

"It's the only thing I've ever wanted too. Do you know how many times I've dreamed about you in this bed with me?" Bucky had dreamed about it so many times that having it happen right now just feels like a really lucid dream. He doesn't know what he'll do if he wakes up and she's gone.

"M'afraid to go to sleep with you here," he says, low and rumbling in his chest. "Don't wanna wake up and not have you here with me. I missed you so much and I never thought I'd catch you. I always thought you'd slip away from me."

She's wrapped around him, though, and he cups a large hand against her ass to hold her close so she can't get away. "Don't get away from me."

"I'll be here," she soothed him, fingertips drifting over his cheekbone, his lips. "Both of us can probably use a nap, too." God knew Natalia felt like she could sleep for a solid week. Her nerves had left her on edge for far too long, and now that she could breathe, especially with him in her arms, she felt drained, so exhausted.

Bucky pulled her close, tight, melding their bodies together without an inch of space between, and she couldn't help but give a soft little moan into his mouth at the feel of him plastered against her; not even her astronomically vivid dreams could ever compare with the real thing. "'m not going anywhere," Natalia breathed against his mouth. "You've got me now, James. I'm yours, and only yours."

She squirmed against him, trying to finagle him exactly where she wanted him. "...take me again," she whispered. "Slow, and hard." A clever hand managed to slip between them and grip his cock, giving it a firm squeeze followed by bold strokes, and she hiked her leg higher, eager and inviting.

"I thought we were napping," he says, the laughter a rumble in his chest. It isn't a problem to do this instead, though, and it's easy to guide himself into her and slide in slow and deep. He doesn't think he's had this much sex ever in his life and he's not sure what they're going to do if they never manage to get out of bed. He has to go back to work eventually, right? Right.

It's the furthest thing from Bucky's mind right now, though, because he dips his head to suck another dark mark against Natalia's neck while he moves in her slowly. Slow, this time, so they can both savor it and just be together in all the ways they haven't had time for before now. He just wants to be right here wrapped up with Natalia and nowhere else.

"You want me to fuck you slow, then? Because that's what I want." His lips travel over pale skin and his teeth find places to mark; he wants to possess what was once unpossessable.

"...later," she panted, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he penetrated her again, slow and deliberate. Then his mouth was on her throat, sucking yet another claiming mark on her skin, and Natalia bit at her lips with a muted whine, again overcome to have him slowly rocking into her, deep and thick.

"Da," she breathed, nipping at his ear, his neck, any skin she could reach. "Pozhaluysta, Dzheyms..." Natalia didn't think they'd ever make it out of bed, not in the near future. It was acutely painful, imagining him not in her arms and in her body; she wound both arms and legs tight around him, never wanting to let go, despite his heavy, stilted rhythm as he fucked her exactly how she wanted.

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