ostavil | open post

His earnestness was touching. Natasha sighed again, this time in mildly bemused exasperation, and shook her head, smile turning fond.

"James," she told him, reaching out to touch fingertips to the back of one tattooed hand, "the album is fine. I promise. I love the songs you wrote. ...even if they are about me. And you. ...and you-and-me. No one else knows that, right?" As long as no one else knew, she was fine with him releasing it.

"It won't embarrass me. I love that it sparked such creativity for you. And this sort of music was something you'd been wanting to do, yes?"

"The band just thinks it was someone I made up, that the whole thing is made up," Bucky says. "That it's not even me, it's just some imaginary couple. Well, Carol thinks it's a real person I'm in love with but she sure as shit doesn't think it's you. She just thinks I've been secretly dating someone and not spilling and it's driving her insane."

Bucky closes his eyes and sighs a little. "I'm just gonna sing them and be thinking about you and you have to hear that and know that every time, that's all. I wanted to do this and it sounds so genuine because it's real. You're driving me insane and I've got to get over it. You need a friend, not me. You've got your own shit to worry about and me being in love with you is the last thing you should have to deal with. I tried to stop when I knew you had a boyfriend but you needed me. You needed me and I came running because I always will. Besides, you couldn't even take me anywhere. I'm completely the kind of guy they kick out of the parties you get invited to."

The last part is a joke because he just has to get over this. If he can get it out tonight with his tongue loosened by alcohol he can just put it in a box and never open it again.

It was hard, hearing all of this. Hard, because she couldn't tell him no, she couldn't say that she didn't feel anything for him, either. Problem was, Natasha didn't know what she felt. She knew that she'd been mesmerized when he'd kissed her, back in her old apartment, and that he'd made her laugh more than once, and that he had the gentlest, kindest soul she'd ever witnessed in a person, anywhere.

Was it so wrong to be attracted to all of that? Was it?

"...it was wrong of me to call you," Natasha heard herself say, the logical part of her swirling brain kicking in. "Knowing how you feel." She wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her feet beneath her once again. Then she bit her lower lip, gently, and shook her head.

"But I'm glad that I did, James," she said then, sincerely. "I really didn't have anywhere else to go...and I was so afraid..." A soft sigh. "I...I don't know what's happening between us. It's confusing, especially right now, talking about it, and...and I don't really know how to handle...all of this...but, I do know that...I like you? More than I should?" Green eyes met blue.

"Maybe...maybe more than I should...?"

"Yeah? Surprises me a little," Bucky admits. "Because you know, you're so...put together. Nothing rattles you. I mean, you were rattled the night I came and got you but anyone would be."

He's rambling and he knows it so he just closes the gap between them and kisses her instead. The last time he'd kissed her had been at her old place when he'd played a song for her and it'd just happened but this time he's making a logical choice to do this. Alcohol makes him bold and he already has his heart on his sleeve.

So he kisses her, because doing this is so much easier than fumbling around with words and saying stupid things that just make the whole situation more and more awkward.

She started to demur, to protest that perspective, but before she could, Bucky leaned forward and kissed her. Again. And Natasha knew she should shove him away and leave, make her exit before things got any more confusing, but instead one of her hands moved to touch his cheek, then slide through his eternally-tousled hair, as if to hold him right where he was.

Against her common sense, her lips parted, and she melted into his kiss, a soft, whimpered moan escaping as Bucky's mouth moved over hers. She had plenty of leeway to withdraw, to resist, but damn it, she'd been that unassailable pillar for far too long. Seven years of a loveless relationship had dimmed something within her, and, bless him, Bucky had crashed into her world and sparked it again alight.

He tasted of the champagne they'd shared, and somewhere, Natasha knew that if she were fully sober, she'd end it right here, but for once in her life, she ignored all logic and just resolved herself to feel.

Natasha hadn't pushed him away so Bucky keeps going, breaking the kiss only to breathe a little and finding her lips again and again. She's wearing some soft little sweater thing, no doubt something his money had bought on the infinite shopping spree she'd gone on with the girls, and he slides his palm under it to rest against her ribs.

"Look, just give me one night, okay? You never have to look at me after this. Just tonight and then I'll walk away if that's what you want. I promise."

It's probably unfair of him to even ask for the one night, honestly, but he wants it all the same. He wants to be able to have this one memory to hold before she walks out of his life for good.

The touch of his hand to her bare skin made her shiver. It was such a foreign sensation, touch. Alex scarcely touched her. And never had he kissed her so reverently, almost worshipfully. The fevered whispered request smoked in her ears; was he serious? Natasha's eyes blinked open, brow furrowed, a little confused about what he actually meant.

Then it hit her, and color flooded her cheeks. "--James..." It seemed incredibly unfair, to take advantage of him that way, and she wanted to bolt up and out of the house, flee a thousand miles away, at least until she could get him out of her mind. Forever, if Fate was kind.

But Fate wasn't, alas, because instead of answering yes or no, she simply closed her eyes and kissed him again, this time twining both of her arms around his neck and swaying into his embrace, not really knowing what she wanted, only that this felt too right to stop.

The kiss seems like a yes and Bucky falls into it for a minute or two before breaking away and looking into her eyes. He doesn't get too far away, too happy to be wrapped up in her arms, but just enough.

"I need a yes," he says, just wanting to be sure. "I don't want to hurt you because I didn't ask."

He's not so drunk yet that he's beyond asking permission and he kisses her forehead while he waits for the words. "Couldn't live with myself."

She couldn't untie her tongue. Couldn't make herself say it. It was so unlike her, to just let go and let emotion rule her actions. She'd kept that part of herself hidden away, smothered under the concrete and brittle smiles of California, and all which was required to make it in such a place.

Yet, Bucky had, hadn't he. And Natasha knew first hand that James Barnes didn't hold back much at all.

Emboldened in the smallest sense, the petite redhead gently propped her chin on Bucky's shoulder, took a deep breath, and released it with all permissions given. Her embrace tightened, just a fraction. And her voice trembled, but it was whispered clearly enough to be heard, understood.

"...yes."

"God, I love you."

It's the stupidest thing he's ever done, this, but Bucky can't stop now that he has permission and the haze of alcohol urging him on. He tugs off her sweater and tosses it back over the couch before tossing his shirt in vaguely the same direction. He leans in to kiss her again while he unfastens her bra and once he has it off, he eases Natasha back against the pillows and blankets on the floor.

"You're my first thought and my last thought," he murmurs, moving his lips along her neck and collarbone. He has to take his time since he'll never get another chance. He has to be able to remember it.

Natasha's stomach gave an involuntary lurch, hearing that, but she had no time at all to respond. Her sweater vanished; she squeaked as the fabric whisked over her head, disappearing somewhere across the living room, and before her stunned brain could catch up, Bucky kissed her again, shirtless himself, and she felt decidedly male fingers working at the snap of her bra, tugging the silken elastic a little harshly before it came undone.

Nor did she have time to be modest or shy, because her bare back met the soft blanket she'd spread out for their picnic, and James was looming over her, dark head bent to her throat and those soft, soft lips reverently moving over her sensitive skin. Natasha shivered, instinctively tilting her head to give him more, and her hands found their way into his hair, dreamily threading through the thick dark strands.

She thought she made some sound or noise, but it was whisper-soft in her ears, a girlish little mew. The fire was warm on her bare skin, Bucky's hands and mouth more so, and Natasha felt adrift on entirely new sensations, hardly sure which to focus upon first.

"I want to mark every inch of you so you're mine for a night," Bucky murmurs. He moves his lips lower, kissing between her breasts before kissing along the full curve of the right one. He slips his left hand up to cup the other and just loses himself for a moment in just pleasuring her. He has the sense that Natasha hasn't had a lot for herself in life and this should be about her right now. Even if he only gets this, it's enough.

He exhales softly just above her nipple before bending his head to kiss her there too, sucking with just the barest bit of pressure before pulling away and moving his mouth somewhere else. He keeps coming back, quicker and quicker, and listens for the little noises that she'd been making earlier.

She could tell him to stop right now and it would be enough.

She felt drunk, and not entirely from the champagne. Everywhere Bucky touched, her skin seemed to come alight, as if it wasn't used to a touch that wasn't her own. Accurate, really. Alex had never really taken time with this sort of thing, made it a priority to pleasure her, instead of focusing on his own. And Natasha, not knowing, hadn't protested.

Those little noises didn't stop, quick gasps of breath with just the smallest sound, as her voice was going high and tight the further he went. Squirming beneath him, Natasha rubbed her legs together, needing some sort of friction to keep her from going entirely insane. Bucky was heavy, on top of her, but his weight wasn't stifling, or restrictive; if anything, it kept her from floating right out of her mind.

Her back arching as he suckled at her, Natasha tossed her head, long curls flailing across the strewn pillows, and somehow managed to choke out, "--J-James..." before giving a long, low whine, not sure if she should even dare ask for more.

Bucky kisses her breast for a moment longer before moving his lips lower, raining kisses down along her abdomen and low beneath her navel. She's still wearing pants and he doesn't move to take them off. Instead, he kisses his way up her left side and back to her other breast to give it the same treatment.

When she says his name, he feels warmth run all through him. She's clearly turned on and it feels good to know he can do that for her even when she's come out of a bad relationship.

"You deserve to be worshipped so I'm at your altar," he murmurs. It's probably too poetic for this but he can't help himself.

That particular line sounded like one of his song lyrics, she wanted to say, but for some odd reason, the words just wouldn't make it past her lips. Natasha whimpered instead, lost amid all the different sensations roiling beneath her skin. This was so odd, being the sole focus of a man's unswerving attention; she idly found herself wondering what else she'd missed over the course of her tepid relationship with the Air Force pilot.

The blanket was soft beneath her, the fire warm beside, and James nice and thick above her; Natasha drifted on a hazy sea, too lost to protest, or even reciprocate. She did manage to whisper his name again, lashes fluttering as he moved over her bare skin. Delicate hands rested on his shoulders, following him as he moved over her, and quite of its own volition, one lean still-clad leg rose to curve around Bucky's thigh, growing more eager as they went on.

When Natasha wraps her leg around him, Bucky smiles against her skin and rolls the tip of his tongue around her nipple to stiffen it. It's important to him to make her feel good and it's more important to do this than anything else. He could be fine doing just this and not doing anything else with her.

He wants, though. Oh, he wants.

He lifts his head from her breast and smiles at her, slow and warm. He gives these smiles to her so easily and it feels so natural to be good to her. Who could hurt her?

"I want more. Is that all right?"

Natasha opened her eyes, the green dazed and unfocused, when Bucky lifted his head, smiling down at her. She dimly realized he'd said something, and she had to think back with a little difficulty to recall just what it'd been.

More. Oh, right.

"...more?" A small mewled query, followed by the soft chewing of her lip as she tried to figure out how to beg for it without sounding completely desperate. Her entire body was tingling, particularly a spot down below her stomach, fluttering lightly.

"...y-yes, it's-that's all right."

She did manage to raise one hand and gently stroke his cheek, curving her fingers over his jaw before sliding them into his hair, a careful caress.

Bucky kisses her quickly and moves down between her thighs, yanking her pants down and off. He doesn't undress himself yet and only her because he wants it to be focused on this for right now. He kisses her knee, then the inside of it, and just inhales the scent of her skin for a long moment.

"I want to kiss every inch of you. I'll never get another chance so I want to remember you."

Bucky knows this is his one shot so he wants to make it as memorable as possible for both of them. He moves his mouth along the inside of one thigh, lazily kissing against soft skin.

She couldn't help another brief squeak when her yoga pants disappeared, baring the rest of her to the ocean's breeze and the fire's warmth. Natasha couldn't help a small shiver, but then Bucky was there, parting her legs, wedging his shoulders between her knees. A moment of panic assailed her - seriously? But before she could protest, she felt those smooth warm lips meet her skin again, and everything melted away.

On her back, she could only gaze up at the ceiling, not really seeing the pattern of the cross-beams above them both. She only knew she ached, and her breasts definitely missed the heat of his mouth and hands. Putting her own palms there helped, somewhat, the zinging from tight nipples shooting southwards to pool in her loins, where the everything else waited.

Bucky parts her with his thumbs before dragging his tongue against her slowly. Natasha's wet, which is good, but he wants her even more wet before he takes anything for himself. He has the sense that she hasn't had this in a long, long time if she ever has before and he wants to make it good. He wants to make it as good as possible so she won't regret this in the morning.

Bucky doesn't think he could take it if Natasha regretted this night and wanted nothing to do with him, even as a friend, after it was over.

He kisses her there, soft and open-mouthed, and sucks against the places he thinks are most sensitive.

Once she realized what was happening, it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stop, that he didn't have to, that it wasn't necessary-- But then it was too late, and Natasha's back bowed up off of the blanket at the first touch of that silken tongue to soft, intimate flesh. She tried to make a sound, but could only bite her lip and exhale through her clenched teeth, slowly easing back down to, shockingly, enjoy the musician's tender, wicked ministrations.

A glance down her body had her moaning all over again; Bucky's dark head buried between her sprawled thighs, blue eyes closed as he kissed and lapped at her, apparently focused on nothing else but what was in front of him right then. Her thigh muscles trembled, but thankfully she wasn't able to slam them shut; not with his shoulders wedging them open.

By the time she was able to make any sounds other than pitiful little whimpers, Natasha had untangled her tongue enough to breathe his name into the cool evening air, unable to keep from squirming like a limpet beneath his attentions.

If he had known her thoughts, he'd say it was necessary, that it's always necessary, but Bucky is too occupied with the task at hand to do something like lift his head to run his mouth. Instead, he slips his hand up and works two fingers into her, stretching her while he works her clit with his tongue.

Natasha has been making all sorts of delicious little whimpers and he thinks she's assertive enough to say if he's hurting her and push him away. She isn't, so he keeps working her body so he can draw an orgasm out of her. It'll be the first of the night but it definitely won't be the last.

Having those string-roughened fingers work their way into squeezing flesh was more than enough to send her careening over the top, calling for him in a broken little voice. Her hips bucked, a leg flailed, and Natasha slapped her hands to flat to the floor, clutching the blanket in white-knuckled fingers as her climax roared over her, leaving her quite breathless and shaking once it finally passed.

A thin dew sheened pale skin, golden in the fire's light, and her breasts heaved with her erratic breaths. Long red curls haloed her head, and glassy green eyes were half-lashed in the aftermath. Her body twitched now and again, still riding the glorious high, and she gave a soft little mew when she finally had enough air. Caught up in the shivers, the petite redhead was quite overwhelmed, and not from the champagne.

Bucky works her through it because he doesn't want to pull away from Natasha when she's close to the edge or actually coming, but when she seems to have come down he draws his fingers away and kisses her belly so he doesn't say something stupid. He's already said he loves her and that's stupid enough. He doesn't want to go pushing more feelings on her.

After a moment or two, he moves up to lay alongside her and drifts his fingers against her soft skin.

"I wanted to do that so much. Thank you for letting me."

She dimly felt Bucky move up beside her, leaving her legs limp and sprawled, hardly graceful. But Natasha just couldn't care right now. Her entire body felt boneless; she scarcely felt the sweet, soft kiss to her stomach. She did, however, manage to turn her head and blink dazedly at him, a small frown marring her brow.

It took her a minute or so, but she finally managed to get words out, without them sounding like so much mush.

"...you didn't...you didn't have to do that, James..."

Even if he had said that he wanted to.

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