ostavil | open post

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.

It all takes way longer than Bucky wants it to take and it feels like each conversation is just stretching out into infinity because he knows that Natasha is over there and there's the promise of a continuation from earlier activities. When he's finally through the last meet and greet, he sighs in relief and looks at Sam and Steve. "Well, I think you guys are getting that new gym and whatever else you wanted. The entire show was sold out."

Steve nods and says yeah, it was more than enough to do tons of improvements around the school from top to bottom and that everyone from sports to arts to general ed is going to benefit from this charity concert. Bucky claps him on the back and says he'd do it again three times over before crossing over to Natasha.

"You ready to be liberated from these guys and go home?"

She was more than content being on the fringes, away from the flashbulbs and microphones and nosy reporters still wondering just who she was and why she was wearing VIP tags and definitely why Bucky Barnes was paying so much attention to her. As far as the press knew, the lead singer of the Winter Soldier was still single, no attachments in sight.

So when she glanced up to see him right in front of her, holding out a hand to lead her to the waiting limo, Natasha took a deep breath, hid a gulp, and pasted on a small smile, nodding silently. Once they'd turned down the back corridor, Security in front and behind, she said, "Only if you are." She didn't have the first clue what sort of post-concert activities the band held, or if they just high-fived afterwards and dispersed to their own respective homes.

"Good. Normally, I might go out and get drinks with the guys but I'm suddenly feeling pretty tired and just wanna go straight home. I got a little worn out before the autographs, you know how it is." He winks at her and he knows it's a little obvious but the security doesn't care. They're paid enough to not notice things like that.

"You wanna go home and eat ice cream? Because I could really go for some. Ice cream, some relaxing on the balcony, you and me all alone? I think that sounds like heaven."

Natasha smiled. "That sounds amazing. What about some ice cream and apple pie?" Because she could honestly go for some sweet desserts right about now. And cuddling together on the balcony while they shared the delicious treats also sounded wonderful. It would be cold, but Natasha had no doubt that Bucky would keep her warm.

Sam had the limo waiting right outside of the exit doors, with one of the security boys holding the door open for them. Natasha ducked in first, sliding all the way over to make room for the superstar behind her. Wilson bade them both good night, tapping the roof of the car after closing it on the concert, the press, and the cameras.

"Hell yeah, that sounds amazing. Pretty boring for a rock star, maybe, but maybe I'm into boring nowadays. I would rather be at home with you than getting drunk in some dive bar with my friends, that's for sure." Even though his friends and bandmates are great company, if Bucky's given the choice between eating dessert with Natasha and trading shots with Carol, Carol's shit out of luck.

"We could go out and light the firepit and bring one of the blankets out if you wanted. Since we're gonna be eating something cold and all of that - gotta make sure we don't get too cold or we'll have to huddle for warmth or something. You'd just die if you had to snuggle up with me, wouldn't you? It'd be awful."

"Terrible," she agreed, falling into his light humor with a soft smile. Then she sobered as the car headed out onto the freeway. "But, if you really want to go out with the band, I don't mind, James. I can head home on my own, if that's something you all do after every show."

She wasn't going to insist he change his behavior just because she was in the picture. He deserved to live his life how he wanted, with or without her.

"I'm sure Steve and Carol and the others want to celebrate tonight. After such a huge success."

"Nah," Bucky says. "I think I'm good for tonight. Completely beat, just want to go home."

He makes sure the window is up between them and the driver and leans over to whisper in Natasha's ear. There in as good as private but he still isn't going to say this right out loud and risk anyone overhearing something that's private between the two of them.

"I promised you I was gonna do something about that dressing room stunt, didn't I? Can't do that if I'm drinking with Steve."

The reminder of her earlier brazenness brought a deep flush to Natasha's cheeks, turning her skin as scarlet as her hair. But the echo of Bucky's promise made her squirm, and her stomach gave a little tumble, not because of her pregnancy, she was sure.

"Yeah," she finally replied, licking her lips lightly, "you did."

It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize for being so bold, but she swallowed it; Bucky had clearly enjoyed himself just as much as she had, so what did she have to apologize for? A little daring, again, Natasha carefully reached over and took her fiance's hand, threading their fingers together.

Lifting their joined hands, Natasha gently placed her free hand against the back of Bucky's that she held, turning them over and over again. "...you really do have such talented hands, James." And an equally talented voice, too.

"Years of practice, babe," Bucky says, watching as Natasha just touches him. It's a simple touch and not even sexual but just about everything she does feels sexual to him right now. She's beautiful and she'd jumped him in his dressing room because she needed him so much she couldn't wait. Being wanted like that isn't something you get every day.

"Been working these hands for a long time. Good at a lot of things, too, and I'd love to show you a few of them."

Bucky has already shown her plenty of ways he can use his hands during sex but he wants the promise out there so she can just think about it.

Thankfully, the drive back to Malibu wasn't overly long or crowded with traffic; most of the populace was still gathered around the stadium in southern LA. The chauffer deposited them in the courtyard, then the limo quietly glided back around the house towards the garage. The night was cool, the stars above bright, and the moon glinted over the Pacific, pounding just at the bottom of the small cliff. Natasha didn't think she'd ever seen a more beautiful night.

But Bucky was still covered with glitter, therefore a shower was the first order of business, and Natasha busied herself changing into more comfortable housewear while he did. She'd more or less moved into the master bedroom with her fiancé, appropriating the second walk-in closet that had formerly stored old guitars, a drum set, keyboards, and other musical instruments that now appropriately resided down in the recording studio.

She was waiting on the small reading couch by the open bay windows, curled in her sweater, fuzzy socks, and yoga pants, face scrubbed clean of makeup and her long curls loose over her shoulders. She'd considered fetching her novel from the bedside table, but the outside view held all of her attention. --at least until she heard the water in the bathroom shower turn off.

"Pretty sure I still have glitter on me," Bucky says, coming out of the bathroom. He hadn't bothered with bringing his clothes in and had just scrubbed his hair with a towel and wrapped said towel around his waist before coming back out. It always felt amazing to have a shower after a long show and he feels like a new man.

Natasha is curled up on the couch and he laughs a little. "You look cozy. Let me find something so I don't freeze to death and I'll come join you. I'm a little big for that couch but you can sit in my lap."

And that's probably the ideal situation, really, because he's feeling cuddly after hooking up at the show earlier.

He'd probably be covered in glitter for the next week or so. Natasha wasn't entirely sure where it'd come from, but there was really to know with a crowd of that magnitude. But arts and crafts weren't really the first thing that crossed her mind when Bucky Barnes sauntered out of the bathroom, still gleaming from the hot water and steam, dressed in only a towel.

Christ.

She wasn't so crass as to drool, but Natasha did have to clench her teeth and her fists to keep from tackling him onto the big bed across the room. Surely her hormones were to blame for this inescapable want she'd been feeling since the end of the concert. Yeah, she could blame it on that.

Whatever the reason, Natasha just nodded and obligingly slid over when Bucky returned to the cushioned settee. "...uh, yeah, this isn't going to work," she had to laugh, because there was barely enough room for them both to even sit comfortably. "Um, where...? Or, how do we do this?"

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