She laughed softly again and splashed him a little more seriously this time, but she didn't disagree any at all. Neither of them had had the chance to actually be people, and it was a miraculous chance they'd been given, this second and even third time. Natasha thanked a God she didn't entirely believe in any more for that, each and every day.
"And it'll be fun still, raising her together. I bet she ends up just like you, all ringlets and blue eyes and that amazingly charming smile, Sergeant Barnes. What do you think about that?" Because it was damned uncanny, just how much their daughter resembled her father. Even at this young age, there was so much of Bucky Barnes in that little girl that sometimes, looking at her, it took Natasha's breath away.
"I think I'm not letting her out of my sight until she's at least thirty," Bucky says. Right now, he means it. Rebecca is the absolute apple of his eye right now and if anyone or anything tried to take her from him, he'd rend heaven and earth to get her back.
"Then again, I only let you out of my sight because you know twelve ways to kill me with your thumbs," he says, reaching down and stroking the curve of her breast with his right hand.
This time, she laughed right out loud, water splashing where she dropped her hands in her amusement. Honestly. "I don't think you'll be able to keep her under lock and key for that long, Sarge," Natasha mused, picking up her husband's left hand in hers and bringing his knuckles to her lips for soft kisses. "But it'll be fun, watching you at least try."
She sighed a soft moan, however, when he stroked her breast; they still ached and yearned for his calloused touch. Damn that they couldn't do what they both wanted, and that was to devour each other, but waiting was necessary, and a slow burn could be well and good, she supposed.
"Thirteen," she corrected with a light, sweet sigh, shifting a little between Bucky's thighs. "Maybe fourteen if I'm wearing heels."
"Mm, yes, I forgot about the heels," Bucky says, thinking about Natasha in one of her glam little dresses, heels and stockings and the whole nine. They don't have a lot of reason to dress up these days and if they do, it's tac gear and not anything fancy. Maybe he needs to get an invitation to some state dinner with T'Challa so they have a chance to show off.
He keeps his fingertips light along the curve of her breast and prepares himself to pull them away if it's too much for her. He wants to be close but he doesn't want to drive her insane.
"Muscles loosening up any for you? Or do you still want me to rub you down when we get out of here?"
Natasha honestly didn't miss the ensembles anymore. She had other priorities now, and those she enjoyed very much. Granted, it was still nice to look at some of her old outfits and recall the few good memories that went with them, such as Sam trying on a pair of her five inch stilettos on a dare and falling down a flight of stairs while she laughed and Steve, snickering himself, hurried over to help him back on his feet. Sans the shoes, of course.
But Bucky's hands brought her out of that reverie in the past, and Natasha squirmed slightly, arching her back to invite more of his touch. "...feels good," she whispered, turning her head to kiss the ridge of his jaw. "It's a good ache, this time." A slight smile. "And yes, you're not getting out of that offer so easily, White Wolf."
"I wasn't trying to get out of it," Bucky protests. "I just don't know how much and what kind of touching you want right now. I've never been with a woman who's gone through a pregnancy. First time. Only woman."
There's a secret hope that it won't be the only pregnancy but he's been too afraid to ask if this had been a one time miracle or if the surgery had meant there was a chance for more children. The idea of having a little family to replace what they'd lost is appealing to him and unless the world really can't function without he or Natasha in the fight, he doesn't want to suit up again. He doesn't want his kids going through what Clint's wife and kids go through every time the Avengers call.
"Just trying to take care of my girl, that's all."
She splashed him again, feeling playful for the first time in ages. Pregnancy wasn't just hard on the body, it was hard on the spirit, too. "If you say so," she teased, reaching up and behind her to run her wet hands through Bucky's dark hair. Then she reached for the soap and the sponge once more, lathering up the loofah and swiping the suds over what of their skin she could reach.
"Well, this is the first time I've ever recuperated from a pregnancy, so we're both a little out of our depths, aren't we?" She lathered, rinsed, and repeated, swishing lightly in the cooling water. "But trust me, babe," she purred, nuzzling at his throat, "your hands are good." Natasha stretched in Bucky's arms, lifting her arms to wind them around his neck, tipping her head in silent invitation.
"You can even kiss me," she offered, "if you really want."
"You say it like I don't want to kiss you every hour of the day," Bucky says, leaning in so he can take that kiss he wants. It's primal and caveman of him but seeing how Rebecca's birth has changed Natasha's body turns him on in ways he's never been turned on before. The only thing he can do about it is kiss, though, so that's what he does.
He pours everything he has into the kiss, teeth tugging lightly at Natasha's lower lip and tongue sliding against hers. He wants to kiss her so thoroughly that she has something to hold on to in these weeks they can't be together and let her know that he wants her even though everything in her body must be haywire right now.
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"And it'll be fun still, raising her together. I bet she ends up just like you, all ringlets and blue eyes and that amazingly charming smile, Sergeant Barnes. What do you think about that?" Because it was damned uncanny, just how much their daughter resembled her father. Even at this young age, there was so much of Bucky Barnes in that little girl that sometimes, looking at her, it took Natasha's breath away.
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"Then again, I only let you out of my sight because you know twelve ways to kill me with your thumbs," he says, reaching down and stroking the curve of her breast with his right hand.
"Or are you up to fifteen now?"
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She sighed a soft moan, however, when he stroked her breast; they still ached and yearned for his calloused touch. Damn that they couldn't do what they both wanted, and that was to devour each other, but waiting was necessary, and a slow burn could be well and good, she supposed.
"Thirteen," she corrected with a light, sweet sigh, shifting a little between Bucky's thighs. "Maybe fourteen if I'm wearing heels."
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He keeps his fingertips light along the curve of her breast and prepares himself to pull them away if it's too much for her. He wants to be close but he doesn't want to drive her insane.
"Muscles loosening up any for you? Or do you still want me to rub you down when we get out of here?"
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But Bucky's hands brought her out of that reverie in the past, and Natasha squirmed slightly, arching her back to invite more of his touch. "...feels good," she whispered, turning her head to kiss the ridge of his jaw. "It's a good ache, this time." A slight smile. "And yes, you're not getting out of that offer so easily, White Wolf."
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There's a secret hope that it won't be the only pregnancy but he's been too afraid to ask if this had been a one time miracle or if the surgery had meant there was a chance for more children. The idea of having a little family to replace what they'd lost is appealing to him and unless the world really can't function without he or Natasha in the fight, he doesn't want to suit up again. He doesn't want his kids going through what Clint's wife and kids go through every time the Avengers call.
"Just trying to take care of my girl, that's all."
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"Well, this is the first time I've ever recuperated from a pregnancy, so we're both a little out of our depths, aren't we?" She lathered, rinsed, and repeated, swishing lightly in the cooling water. "But trust me, babe," she purred, nuzzling at his throat, "your hands are good." Natasha stretched in Bucky's arms, lifting her arms to wind them around his neck, tipping her head in silent invitation.
"You can even kiss me," she offered, "if you really want."
no subject
He pours everything he has into the kiss, teeth tugging lightly at Natasha's lower lip and tongue sliding against hers. He wants to kiss her so thoroughly that she has something to hold on to in these weeks they can't be together and let her know that he wants her even though everything in her body must be haywire right now.