ostavil | open post

Perched on a stool in an out-of-the-way corner, watching the professionals go about their work, Natasha was abruptly jolted out of bystandership when Bucky looked her way and posed a question. She blinked, sitting up straighter, hand that her chin had been propped on now folding with the other, and then she tilted her head, gazing at him speculatively.

"Mmmm, not really. Is...that the idea?" She'd seen videos of his live performances before, of course, but none of the cameras had really had a decent enough angle to convey all of the detail. Nevertheless, she knew that stage makeup and regular makeup were different, so perhaps final say was best left to the artists.

Then her eyebrows went up. "Is...that what you're wearing out on stage?" That was basically an intricate shoulder holster, complete with bright beading, feather, and fringe here and there. No doubt it would look fantastic on her fiance's thick torso, but...with no shirt beneath it? God.

"If you can call it wearing, sure. Hey, believe it or not, I'm cleaning it up for the kids here. It would be a lot worse if it was a regular show," Bucky says, laughing a little. He likes poking at Natasha if it's all in good fun and he follows it up with - "What, you don't want your man out there half dressed? A lot of disappointed fans."

The makeup artist tilts his chin up to put some more eyeliner on so Bucky doesn't get to look at her to see her visual response but he hopes he gets one hell of a tongue lashing out of it.

"They pay to see the show and I'm the show."

Her gaze went flat and her lips thinned to his sass, but Natasha just snorted a small huff and rolled her eyes. But she had to get some sort of a jibe, thus she heard herself say, "I think you're just afraid they wouldn't like your songs if you had all your clothes on." Which was hardly true; Natasha knew those screaming fans would listen to Winter Soldier's music even if it was sung in Gregorian Chant.

Sam snorted a small laugh, shaking his head and checking his watch. "Fifteen minutes," he said, and the others echoed it. "Band's already warming up. I'll meet you at Security." He ducked out, and the makeup artist pursed her lips, gave a nod, and released Bucky's chin, then added a final fluff to his shaggy hair.

"Magnifique," she caroled, kissing her fingertips with a cheeky grin. "Break a leg, Bucky, eh?"

"Hope I break two," Bucky says, grinning. "Stay with Sam," he says to Natasha. "It gets wild out there and I know this is a charity concert and we're in a stadium but who knows what could happen. Things can always mess up, even in a big venue like this one."

Much safer than where security would be more lax and much safer than a smaller venue where it's easy to crowd the stage but even still, he doesn't want her to get hurt.

"I'll throw in a couple surprises for you, though. Wouldn't want to spoil your first concert."

The entire effect was startling, now that he was out of the chair and outfitted completely. Natasha could only stare, until the security warning jolted her back to reality. "I'll be careful," she promised; Wilson had assigned her two beefy bodyguards all her own - Stan and Rolf. Norwegian beet farmers, the both of them; they topped even Steve by a good three inches. And were waiting for her and Bucky right outside.

The procession began to head for the door, but Natasha abruptly took her intended's hand, "--wait...please?" Flushing lightly, a bit abashed for being so forward - especially with him looking like that, and her in just a simple but fashionable calf-length skirt, long-sleeved sweater and sensibly-heeled boots - but she paused until the entire entourage was out of the dressing room before placing both of her hands against her musician's jaw and rising on her toes to kiss him quite soundly.

When she released his mouth, Natasha rested her forehead against his, sighing softly. "...knock 'em dead," was all she said before letting go.

Bucky is surprised to get the kiss with all the people around (even if they've left the room and they're not exactly looking at them) because Natasha is reserved but he sure as hell isn't upset about it. He's sad it can't go on any longer but he has a show to do.

"Only a little dead," Bucky says, winking at her. "The dead-dead is just for you. This is just the show, you know? They don't get the whole package."

But she will, later.

"I know," she smiled at him. "Now, let's go, before Sam has a fit." The dressing room doors opened, and suddenly the entire hallway was awash with flash bulbs, yammering people, and the clicks and whistles of radios. Natasha ducked her head, kept a death grip on Bucky's hand, and followed along, flanked by her protective outriders.

Large men in front, large men behind, it wasn't very long until the group reached Sam Wilson, and Natasha was handed over - along with her bodyguards - and ushered to a private VIP section right in the front of the stage. She gulped, but obediently followed along. Thankfully, the velvet rope and the hulking men to her left and right provided enough space to breathe, though the roar became deafening as the exterior lights suddenly dimmed, and the stage lights began to flash.

The show had begun, and she had center stage.

The set is stacked heavily with favorites and the crowd roars for them, especially when he hits his knees for one song and slides across half the stage. It's murder to do that in leather pants and motorcycle boots but the visual is fantastic; Bucky makes sure to do it in the direction that Natasha's in so she gets the full visual.

They take a short break to costume change and touch up and then security backs everyone up from the edge of the stage and keeps them there for a moment while Bucky has his acoustic guitar out. It's a fucking expensive instrument and he doesn't want it wrecked.

"So all of you are special tonight," he says, looking out over the crowd. "This is for a good cause and since I'm all about good causes, I'm gonna reward you with a new song that no one's heard before. Album's not even released yet. Y'all wanna hear it?"

Obviously, the crowd says yes so the lights dim and Bucky plays Ivy all by himself, no accompaniment but his own playing and while he can't see Natasha through all the bodyguards he knows she's there.

Her heart was racing. The lights, the music, the adrenaline, the sheer energy palpable all around her had Natasha nearly panting, avid gaze riveted to the figure that strutted up and down the stage, belting out lyrics into the microphone and putting on a show unlike anything she'd ever even imagined.

By the time the first intermission rolled around, Natasha felt as if she'd run a thousand miles, and she suddenly understood why this was so addictive. Sex and Rock 'n Roll went hand in hand, oh, yes. If she'd been able, she'd have marched up to those stairs and dragged her fiance back to his dressing room, to fuck him senseless in the makeup chair, if that happened to be where they landed.

But she was able to get hold of herself, thank God, before anyone nearby noticed, and she took a few deep breaths to make sure she didn't act on any of those incredulous impulses. By then, the white noise had noticeably quieted, and she realized that Bucky was on stage alone, with his guitar in the spotlight, and Natasha felt a waterfall of chills pour over her as he began to sing.

The rest of the show flies by after that, another round of fast songs and some of Carol's solo songs that send the crowd as wild as his songs do, and they play not one but three encores because how are you not gonna give a charity concert an encore? Still, it's over eventually because it has to be and by the time Bucky gets back to his dressing room, he's covered in sweat and glitter and he has no idea where the latter came from.

It's gonna be on him for weeks.

He's currently wiping himself dry with a towel. He'd normally go straight in a shower but this is a local concert so he has the luxury of showering when he gets home and not at the venue where he might get caught.

The dressing room doors opened briefly, only to admit a rather flustered Natasha Romanoff, then were pulled abruptly closed again. A little off-balance from being hustled out of the VIP audience to backstage, Natasha straightened her skirt and sweater, then caught sight of her intended in front of the mirror, still gleaming under the bright lights.

He was currently wiping off with a towel, no doubt sweaty and exhausted from the performance, but without a word, Natasha crossed the room, took the cloth from his hands and proceeded to finish the chore, although her strokes lingered a little too long, and more often than not it was her fingers stroking over sweaty skin.

"...you sang our song," she finally said, not lifting her gaze from her perusal of his torso. "I loved it." Now she did look up, and there was a heat in her eyes not seen before. "...and the rest of the show, too."

"Yeah, I kinda decided to last minute," Bucky says. He wasn't shy about it on stage but he is now because it had been such a spur of the moment thing and it was the kind of big romantic gesture that could be taken as overwhelming if Natasha wasn't in the right place to receive it.

It's clear she's in the right headspace.

"You were here and I'm not gonna tour for a while because of the baby so I thought it'd be...y'know. Special. Crowd seemed to love it but I wasn't really singing for them anyway."

No, he hadn't been singing for them, but Natasha had no doubt that ninety-nine percent of the attendees would go home, eventually pour themselves into bed, and dream about this man singing that song just for them. But those were only dreams. Natasha had the real thing, right here in her arms, with tender eyes and a sweet, crooked smile.

The towel fell to the floor, unnoticed.

"Get out of those pants," she suddenly murmured against his mouth, already tugging at the damnable laces. There was a sofa nearby, and it was in that direction that the petite redhead rather firmly pushed the still-sweaty musician, yanking at the obstinate clothing that covered all of that colorful skin.

"Here?"

Bucky isn't against the idea, not at all, and he starts yanking on his pants to get them down and off. Everything else follows with them because he's not fucking around about getting naked with Natasha's voice sounding like that and he bites his lip as he looks at her.

"What exactly's on the menu right now? Should I shut up and just go with it?"

"Here," she stated, giving her curls a toss. Thankfully, getting him naked wasn't much of a chore, save for the boots, and Natasha was hiking up her skirt at the same time that she shoved Bucky down on the sofa. Then she slid astride his lap, taking his face in both hands and giving him a wickedly siren's smile.

"Yeah," she answered his question, more than a little sass entering her husky voice. "If you possibly can." A deep, torrid kiss followed the words, and the lithe redhead rocked sinfully in her lover's lap, moaning into the heat building between them. Skirt at her waist, leather of her calf-high boots rough against his thighs, she made a wild, Amazonian image, but she could not give a single care.

Shit.

Bucky has had good sex and great sex in his life and he's had a lot of great sex with Natasha but he doesn't think any of it compares to this. He gets his hands up under her sweater so he can cup her breasts while he kisses her and god, it feels amazing. He has no idea what he did to get her this desperate for him but he needs to figure it out so it'll happen again.

She's tight around him and when he moves his hips up, it feels so damn good that he knows this is going to be a battle for control the whole time.

It wasn't customarily in her to be this...brazen, but the music and the lights and the energy had loosened something in her soul, something she hadn't even known was there. And watching this god strut across the stage as if he owned everything and everyone in the entire stadium - he did, there was no denying it - had made her realize that, despite all of the flesh at his fingertips, his for the having, she was the one he'd be taking back home.

It had damn near made her lightheaded. It had definitely made her bold.

Which had led to the now: her in James' lap, riding him a little rough and a little slow, but relishing it all the same. He bucked up from the couch, and she snarled, biting at his lower lip for the audacity. Fingernails sank into his shoulders, and she braced herself against his hands, arching her back and dragging her body against his calloused palms.

It was a little awkward; she hadn't bothered removing any of her own clothing, and the far hem of silk panties was digging sharply into one hip, but pulling the small bit of cloth away had been so much easier than getting them off. That would come later.

Bucky tries to get her panties a little more out of the way and he ends up ripping them, feeling the silk give way under his fingers. That hadn't been intentional but it's not like he can't buy her more. He can buy her all the goddamn silk panties she wants to replace these.

"Faster," he pants, trying to rock his hips up against her again. She'd nipped at him last time and he doesn't know if she's gonna do it again or not but he thinks he's happy with either result.

"Need you."

The purred snarl of ripping silk made her gasp, but ruined underwear was honestly the last thing on Natasha's mind. At the forefront was moving just so to send her magnificent lover deep inside her, hilting all the way with every forward rock of her hips. But Bucky didn't seem content with that rough, languid rhythm, and Natasha gave a soft squeal as he surged upwards again.

She grabbed his head again, holding him still so she could kiss him as if she were dying, and the moment their lips parted, she panted his name in her grosgrain voice, moaning low under her breath. "...James..." Her body seemed to share his urgency, beginning to meet his thrusts in perfect synchrony, pulling deep panted breaths from her parted lips.

Forehead pressed to his, her unbound hair a curtain shading their faces, Natasha traded kisses and panted breaths, somehow managing to rasp out, "...need you, too..."

"Take it, then. Ride it out." This is probably the most desperate it's ever been between them and Bucky feels like he's been stretched thin in a way, that the only thing keeping him from snapping is just Natasha herself. He moves his lips down to her neck and nips at the pale skin there before soothing it with his tongue.

And he doesn't stop moving. He couldn't stop moving, not when she's so hot and wet around him, and all he wants is for her to fall apart and just come so he can feel her even tighter still.

The slide of that warm, wet tongue over sensitive skin completely unraveled her; Natasha felt her breath catch as her entire body locked, shivered, then fell into a shuddering paroxysm, clenching deep and hard around the thick length she straddled. Sharp nails drug furrows into Bucky's shoulders and down his back; she couldn't help but mark him as hers. And hers alone.

She felt him tense beneath her, and she by a miracle kept moving, desperate to bring him the same pleasure. It was white-hot, electric, and she never wanted it to end. Teeth dug into her cheek to keep from screeching; no doubt there were others right outside of the closed doors.

Bucky can't hold on much longer after feeling Natasha come around him like that and the whole rush of the setting and the concert and everything just hits him at once and he buries his moan against Natasha's neck as he comes. It feels like it goes on forever, too, and when he's finally come down from that high he thinks his pupils must be blown out like he's taken drugs.

"Holy shit. I mean...that's the best fucking sex I've ever had in my life," Bucky says, trying to find words and struggling to do it. "If you're gonna be like this every time I have a concert maybe I oughta just throw one every night for you."

Head resting on his shoulder, exhausted in the best way possible, Natasha couldn't help but give a resigned huff of amusement; her rockstar would never ever be able to keep a tight rein on his mouth. Even now, just after a mind-shattering orgasm in the wildest place imaginable, he was still babbling. It was endearing, though, in its way.

Turning her head so she could speak, albeit against his neck, Natasha chuckled and gave a small shrug. "Dunno what came over me, really," she confessed, trailing languid fingertips over Bucky's upper and lower arm. "I think it was the music and the lights, maybe." And the atomizing sprinkler hadn't helped either, rendering all of this delectable male beneath her damp and glistening in the bright lights. God.

And though she made no move to do so, Natasha added, "We should probably get up and clean up, huh? Sam will be in here in a few minutes, and Steve, I'm sure."

"Hey, a show is hot," Bucky says, laughing softly. "I gotta keep 'em coming back, after all. But you wanna know a secret? They're all thinking about it in their beds tonight but only you get to go to bed with me."

It's pretty hot when he thinks about it and he's never been able to perform for one particular person and he thinks it makes a better show and a better time for both him and the audience.

"I gotta deal with fans. But I'll deal with you when I get home."

That sexy, sensual promise very nearly had Natasha sinking her claws into her fiancé again, but a knock at the door and Wilson's voice thwarted any further "bonding", and Natasha disappeared into the small bathroom to straighten up, leaving Bucky to clean up, get redressed, and step out into the corridor, ostensibly to meet-and-greet with a few VIP fans, and Natasha had to wonder if he looked as well-fucked as she did, gazing at herself in the mirror.

Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and a few darkening red marks on either side of her neck, thankfully hidden by arranging her hair just so. There was little to do for her undergarments, however, save give them a moment of silence and resign their future to the wastebasket, leaving her feeling a little...awkward when she finally emerged from Bucky's dressing room.

Her bodyguards immediately materialized at her side, one on each, and she watched patiently as her intended signed autographs, shook hands, gave cheek smooches, laughed, talked, and generally dazzled his fans. A few reporters tried to press into her space, but a warning scowl from her protectors kept them thankfully at bay. This wasn't her party, not in the least.

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