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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.

"Why wouldn't I want to? It's about you, isn't it?"

Bucky is a little sad and a lot confused that Natasha would even have to ask that question and he rolls over onto his side so he can prop on his elbow and touch her idly while they talk. He draws his fingertips between her breasts and down her abdomen while he speaks.

"I like doing it. I like making you feel good. I'll do it again if you wanna go for round two."

Now she did feel self-conscious. Exposed, and all too naked right out in the middle of the living room floor. Natasha automatically clutched a corner of the blanket and pulled it over her as much as she could, not to hide from his eyes, because really, it was a little late for that, but out of sheer reflex.

And she knew she was blushing; she could her skin heating, and for an entirely different reason this time. Turning on her side to face him, Natasha ducked her head, clutching the blanket corner over her bare breasts.

"I...don't know. If it's about me, I mean." She couldn't help a depreciating little laugh. "It never was before, so." And nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I thought--I thought this was what you wanted, James..."

Bucky sees her draw the blanket over herself and he feels bad that he's made her shy when he'd only wanted to show her affection and love in the only way he can right now. It's all right, though. He can still talk to her and that can be enough. This can be enough.

"Well, yeah, it's what I wanted but...Natasha? I love you. I want you to feel good. It's not just about me. I couldn't enjoy it if you weren't enjoying it as much as I was."

He strokes his hand against her hair. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You didn't," she told him, firm on that, at least. "It's just..." And she sighed, because bringing up Alex in any conversation was just awful. "When I was with Alex, we never...never did anything like that." Natasha knew her face was flaming even brighter, but she forced herself to try and explain.

"It was always, well, just another chore, I guess. A way to destress, or something." She gave a small amused snort. "He even had a schedule for it. Every Monday and Thursday, like clockwork. Come home, take a shower, eat something, then spend an hour, maybe hour and a half...having sex." God knew it'd never been making love.

"...and when he was done, so was everything else. He usually went to sleep, and I finished up my work for the day, and turned in not long after." Sterile. Passionless. Like the rest of her life, so far. A slim shoulder gave a shrug, and she lowered her lashes, nibbling on her lower lip a bit.

"...but," she said softly, after a moment, "that was--what you did, it was...very nice, James." She caught his gaze again, her own shy this time. "Thank you."

"A fucking schedule? Sorry to say but I have sex whenever I feel like it," Bucky says, utterly floored by the idea of some man just scheduling out sex like it was something on a to do list and not something to do because you care about someone or because it's fun or because you're feeling like getting your rocks off with someone who doesn't expect anything. Bucky isn't good at the last one but the first two? Absolutely.

When she says what he did was nice and thanks him for it, he's not sure how to feel about that. He's never been told it's just nice and gotten a thank you but based on what she's told him, she doesn't really have a background for anything else.

"I'm not just in this to...whatever. But you sure as shit don't have to thank me for what ought to happen every time anyway." He rolls back onto his back and tries to decide what to do. He still wants her, yeah, but he kind of feels like an asshole asking for that when she'd admitted her last boyfriend just used her as a pump and dump and went to sleep afterward. He slings his arm across his eyes so he can hide a little too.

"I think I fucked this up and it was my only chance."

His vehemence made her blink, a little nonplussed. She didn't respond, and was glad she didn't when Bucky spoke up again. Natasha didn't really know how to feel right now, either. Everything was just...awkward, now, and she wanted to hide behind a brick wall.

But she definitely didn't want him regretting anything, so Natasha reached out gingerly, placing a hand on Bucky's bunched bicep. "The night is still young?" she offered, a corner of her mouth lifting up. "And we're the only ones here, so...?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's young. We can have some more champagne and loosen up a little and everything will be fine," Bucky says. He thinks this is the best idea because they can either finish having sex or he'll get so drunk that he'll forget he fucked up his one chance with his dream girl.

"I just love you and I know this is it, for me, and if I'm not perfect it's never gonna happen again. And I want it to happen again. It's all I think about. I wanna take care of you the way you deserve."

He sighs a little. "Yeah, I'm gonna need that champagne."

Lips twitching wryly, Natasha managed to sit up, wrap a throw from the couch around her in lieu of the blanket upon which they still sat, and poured them both a generous glass of the cool champagne. It was still delicious, sweet on her tongue, and she downed the full glass quickly, pouring another right after.

"When in doubt, get drunk?" A sardonic query. Hidden behind the blanket, she didn't immediately move to find her clothes, wherever they'd ended up. The sun had set across the Pacific, but the fire's warmth was pleasant, pushing back the ocean's habitual chill.

Three glasses later, Natasha idly fiddled with the stem of her glass, and lifted an eyebrow at her companion, still brooding into his drink. "You know," Natasha heard herself say, "I never said I expected you to be perfect, James Barnes." She laughed lightly. "In fact, I know just how much of a screw-up you really are. And I like you still. So, therefore your worries are unfounded, right?"

Three more glasses of champagne had relaxed him considerably so when Natasha says she doesn't expect him to be perfect, he takes that in and lets it wash over him. Maybe he's trying too hard.

"Yeah? I've just never loved someone the way I love you. I wanna take care of you forever. You mean so much to me that I'm terrified to make one mistake because you might leave and I won't have a chance. Stupid, right?"

Bucky is aware he can be pretty stupid sometimes but he likes to think he's mostly a good guy. He tries his best, anyway.

Natasha snorted and waved her half-empty glass, taking in the beach and the rest of the state. "And where would I go?" she asked, slurring just a bit. "Down to the guesthouse?" She huffed and shook her head, unable to keep from smiling. "You could come down there anytime you wanted to, James. It's your house, right?"

She put the glass down before she dropped it. "You're overthinking this way too much, Barnes." Clutching the sheet over one shoulder and beneath the other arm, Natasha walked on her knees over to plunk down in front of the musician, blinking up at him a little owlishly.

"Stop thinking so hard. And just do. All right?"

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