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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?"

"It's not going to work," Bucky says, laughing a little. "I don't even know why this couch is here because I can't even sit on it. Maybe it's just for you. Who knows? We can go to bed, if you want, but I'm always a little wired after a show so I'm not ready to sleep."

It's late, yeah, and his body is tired but his mind won't wind down for a while. Too much adrenaline left over from the show and too much hope for a repeat of earlier.

"You're just gonna have to be mad I'm huge, I guess, and I'm ruining the ocean view."

Natasha blinked. "Oh. Well, do you want to go downstairs and watch tv?" Or something. She'd honestly thought they were going to eat ice cream on the terrace and watch the ocean. But apparently he was too wound up to just sit, so that was off of the table.

She tried a little smile, not really sure where to go from here. He'd put on pants, alas, but she really didn't need the visual to want him again. And again. And yet again.

"We can always put a movie on up here, I guess." There was a massive TV hanging on the wall across from the bed, between the two balcony doors, but since she'd been living here, she hadn't ever seen it even on. Decoration only, apparently.

"I guess I could go take a shower while you're busy..."

"You up for a walk on the beach? Then we could eat that ice cream afterward? I didn't forget about that part. If you're not, we can have the ice cream and watch a movie but shows always just wind me up. Sorry, you haven't been with me after one before."

It's going to be a regular occurrence after the kid's older, though, so getting a taste now might be for the best. He'd normally go and celebrate a little with the band but he'd pretty firmly wanted to go back home with Natasha instead of doing that. She hasn't had him all night so she should get him now.

"I just wanna spend time with you, yeah? I don't care what we do."

Unwinding from the small couch, Natasha gingerly reached for Bucky's hands, hooking his pinky fingers with her indexes. Lightly swinging their hands from side to side, she made a counteroffer. "You...wanna go downstairs and make out on the terrace? There's still enough wood in the firepit for a nice fire. And the chaise is big enough for both of us... I'll get a blanket while you light the fire?"

She didn't want to walk. What she really wanted to do was throw him down on that mattress over there and fuck him until the sun rose, but that would be too brash. And for her, the Ice Queen, downright unthinkable. So she had to come up with options.

Damn these hormones.

"See? You have all the great ideas," Bucky says, leaning in and kissing the tip of her nose. "Let me throw on a shirt and get that fire lit so we won't freeze and we can go make out on a piece of furniture big enough for the two of us. I'm gonna fix that couch situation, though," he says. "Just not tonight."

It's cool enough for a sweatshirt but Bucky just tugs on a long-sleeved t-shirt instead and shoves his feet into slippers (yeah, it's girly and yeah, he's not giving them up). There's no point in real shoes if they're just going onto the terrace anyway.

It doesn't take long to get a fire started either, not with the nice firepit he has out here, and he's relaxing on the chaise by the time Natasha gets there.

"Hey. Can I talk a woman like you into sharing a piece of furniture with a guy like me?"

Natasha made sure to brush her teeth before going downstairs - and added a shimmering layer of pina colada lip gloss, too - and emerged on the patio with a large fleece blanket, only to drop it at the foot of the chaise and slide right into her fiance's arms, immediately finding his mouth with hers and kissing him soundly.

More than willing, she draped her arms around his neck and wiggled across him to rest against the couch arm, pulling him half-over her in the process. The fire was so warm, and Bucky even more so; Natasha sighed happy contentment into his mouth, wanting more.

When they finally came up for air, the redhead was already panting softly. "Your pickup lines, James Barnes," she quipped in a breathy voice, "are pathetically corny."

God, it's a good kiss, and he doesn't know where this new Natasha has come from but she'd been bold as hell earlier in his dressing room and now she's kissing him like she needs air and he's the only way to get it. And it feels good to be wanted this way. She's moved to his room, sure, and while he loves that he's wanted this, the easiness, and he hopes whatever's gotten into her doesn't run away again.

"Worked, didn't it? You're over here kissing me instead of losing my number so I'd say it's a pretty damn good pickup line. I might even use it again and see if I can get another kiss out of it."

He's teasing her, sure, but he loves being able to do this and not upset her or make her feel awkward.

She gave him that flat look of amused exasperation, more prominent now than it had been in weeks before, but her eyes always twinkled, regardless. "Maybe I just took pity on you," she retorted, wrinkling her nose at him. Natasha pulled him down for another kiss, this one no less torrid than the last. "Maybe I just like kissing you," she whispered into the bare centimeters between them. "You're a helluva kisser, Bucky Barnes."

Ice cream had been forgotten, along with the apple pie recommendation. There were treats far more delicious waiting; the best was in her arms, hovering over her with a crooked smile and boyish blue eyes. "You can have more kisses," she promised, damn near feeling drunk on them just now. "As many as you want, baby."

This isn't like Natasha but he isn't complaining, either. He prefers this cuddly, flirty Natasha over an unsure one and it's a lot easier to lean in and kiss her (especially because she called him baby and he's not sure she's done that before) instead of talking. Her lips taste like pina colada, some kind of lipgloss, and he wants more and more of it.

They're both under the blanket so he doesn't feel bad about running a hand under her shirt and letting it rest against the curve of her waist. He can feel a little bit of a curve that he knows is the baby but it's not big enough to show unless you're looking for it.

"Turned me on what you did earlier," he says, tugging his lips away from hers to whisper up against her ear. "Not used to that."

He left her with her head spinning, and Natasha took a ragged breath when she finally could, lashes closed and lips parted. She felt him sneak beneath her sweater, rough fingers splayed against her waist, where a little more roundness was arriving, and it made her shiver.

"...neither am I," she confessed, feeling her cheeks heat when she recalled her brazenness of earlier. "...couldn't help it," she said by way of explanation. "The music, all of that energy...and you, looking like some sort of rock god, up there on that stage..."

It'd been a miracle he'd made through the entire set without her rushing the front.

"Made me realize," Natasha finally said, opening her eyes and meeting Bucky's gaze, "just how lucky I was, being able to go home with you."

"Oh? You like the show, then," Bucky says, laughing lowly. "You like that man on the stage? Well, you're right about getting to come home with me. Only one who does. Everyone else just has to think about it in their little beds at night."

He slides his hand up a little more and slides his mouth down her neck in a long string of kisses.

"But look at you. You get to have the whole man in your bed at night. You can have me whenever you want me."

Natasha obligingly tipped her head aside to give him room, shivering at the press of those warm, smooth lips to her tingling skin. She cradled the back of his head, fingers running through Bucky's still damp hair, and smoothed her free hand beneath his arm to hold him close.

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling softly. "I hit the jackpot." And then some. "But I did like the show. Very much." God, so much. "I honestly didn't realize that it was so...addictive." Like a drug. Or overly active hormones.

She met his eyes fully, still a little breathless. "...can I have you right here?" One hand smoothed down his chest, plucking at his shirt. "Right now?"

Bucky laughs, a warm sound, and he nods enthusiastically. "You know you never really have to ask if I wanna be with you, don't you? Because the answer is pretty much always yes as long as I'm awake and healthy. Shit, I would even do half asleep."

Or getting woken up but maybe that's a little much for this newly brave Natasha so he doesn't want to push it just yet.

"You got some ideas about how you wanna do it? Because you're in charge right now, not me. You can have whatever you want."

Rather than answer with words, Natasha simply wiggled around on the chaise until she was lying across its length, and due to her grip, Bucky had to go with her, or else fall right onto the interlocking brick floor. Then her hands busied themselves with getting his pants down over his hips as she lifted her head to claim his mouth again, eager, agile tongue sliding between his lips to tease his own. She licked at him just as her small, clever fingers found his cock, and Natasha moaned as she gave it a tantalizing squeeze.

Half of the blanket had slid off to the floor, but there was more than enough heat from the fire and the inferno strengthening between the musician and the lawyer, writhing against each other beneath the star-studded Malibu sky.

She'd been alone for so long, and Natasha had finally realized she didn't have to be lonely anymore. The energy of the music, the lights, and the show had woken that part of her soul that craved, and she was more than determined to take her fair share. As much as he would give.

Well, shit. It seems like Natasha has finally figured out that he's here for the taking and if he'd realized it'd just take a show to do it, he would have planned a local concert long before now. Bucky moans against her mouth when she wraps her hand around his cock and he kisses her fiercely, one hand weaving into thick, red curls.

He'd just had sex earlier but that doesn't matter because he's more than ready to go again and probably another time after that if she's interested. Right now, though, he shifts so he can move his hips under her hand and slides his free hand up her shirt so he can touch more of her skin.

Natasha blinked awake several hours later, Brooklyn greeting Anita at the kitchen door with a few happy woofs. It was Saturday, she dizzily recalled, the night after the big charity concert. And she was currently lying on a chaise lounge on the first floor terrace, covered by a large plush blanket and a rather nicely-muscled tattooed arm. And the arm was attached to a rather nicely-built body, which was, surprisingly, naked beneath the blanket. Even more surprisingly, so was she.

--oh.

Now completely awake, Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat and hurried to sit up, tugging the blanket with her as she heard Anita make her way further into the house. Jesus God, and they'd left the patio doors open, too! But before she could leap up to the second floor balcony, or, better, dissolve into an invisible puddle right there on the terrace, she heard the cheery housekeeper call out, "Buenos dias, Missus Tasha!" Then a decidedly amused laugh followed, with, "I guess the concert last night was a huge success, si?"

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