At this point, Sylvie is done with talking. She hums a response against Bucky’s chest, then bites down on his nipple, not hard, but enough to get a reaction.

With a wave of her hand, she conjures a small, soft cushion, then drops down to her knees on top of it. Her fingers make quick work of Bucky’s belt, flipping it open, then dragging down the zipper of his fly. She might be willing to suck him off in an alley, but she’s not interested in ruining her jeans in order to do so.

With a small grin, Sylvie’s gaze flicks up, and she presses a kiss to Bucky’s stomach, to the skin just above the line of his underwear. At the same time, she cups his cock through his jeans, holding the weight of him against her palm.