the_variant | (no subject)

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bucky

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"Why are we here?"

Sylvie doesn't generally go shopping. Not for her clothing. It's easy enough to just cast a spell and change her clothes when she wants to, though she does have some good basics in her clothes. Expensive denim, a good pair of boots, shirts that are both functional and beautiful, as well as some t-shirts, and even one dress she'd purchased out of sheer fury when it was too warm for her to consider trousers. That's enough for her.

The boutique store they're in makes her uncomfortable. Somehow they've ended up here and she doesn't know why or how. Did he drug her to get her in here? Did he distract her somehow? It's his fault, she knows it is, because she wouldn't have come in here on her own.

The clothes are nice enough, she supposes, but that still doesn't tell her why.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" she almost demands of Bucky. Part of what she likes about him so much is that he's as functional and practical as she is. Somehow she can't imagine him in the baby blue sweater that hangs on the rack next to her, no matter how soft it looks.

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No one has given Sylvie jewelry before. Maybe when she was a child, something passed down through the family, which technically should be more meaningful, but she doesn't even remember if such a thing ever occurred.

She remembers this.

When Bucky turns her, she lets herself go, her smile tentative, almost shy. She reaches up and touches the dagger, then looks at him. "Thank you," she says and even with practice, the words still feel strange, a little stilted, though she means them sincerely.

When Bucky picked out the necklace, it hadn't occurred to him that it might be a big deal, but it probably should have. He just saw it and thought of her, imagined it hanging from her neck, and thought she might like it, so he wanted her to have it.

Had he thought about it a little longer, he might have expected this reaction. He has a very similar one whenever someone does anything nice for him. This is something intimate, something new, so it doesn't bother Bucky that she doesn't say much. Just the opposite, really. That delicate smile on her face when she thanks him makes him feel bigger than the whole sky, overwhelmed with affection for her.

"You're welcome," he tells her, smiling warmly and putting a hand on her arm as he leans in to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Think of me when you wear it."

It isn't a demand, more of a soft request, and he kisses her forehead again before lowering his head to give her a chaste for heartfelt kiss on the lips.

"I already think of you all the bloody time," she answers. "It's quite annoying."

Her words are at odds with her reaction, the press of her palms against Bucky's chest, the way she leans into the kiss. It's a sweet gesture and while she may not know how to properly thank him or tell him what it means, she thinks he might understand regardless.

They're alike. They both know they are. So often, she can see her own insecurities reflected in Bucky, which is why being with him makes her feel especially vulnerable. Seen in ways she isn't used to.

"Oh, yeah? I'm not sorry to hear it," Bucky says with a pleased chuckle, staring down at her as he curls his hands over hers where they rest against his chest. They're blocking part of the sidewalk, surely, but Bucky doesn't care. He couldn't look away from her if tried.

"Do you want to come over for a little bit?" He asks in a low murmur, leaning in to give her another soft kiss. If she comes over, she can stay as long as she'd like, but he never wants her to feel obligated to stay. "Because I really wish we weren't on a busy street right now."

He wants to be alone with her, because she's looking at him in that way that seems to be reserved for only him, and he wants to kiss her, hold her, maybe touch her in ways that he can't do in public.

"You have the libido of a much younger man," Sylvie answers, but she's smirking as she takes his head and turns them in the direction of Bucky's flat. The townhouse is probably equally as close, but he's invited her over and she knows it's likely because Bopp will need to be fed or will have to be taken on a walk soon.

And in her way, Sylvie loves that dog, too.

"I thought human men tended to max out around eighteen," she continues. "And here you are, a hundred and... what is it now? A hundred and eight? Very impressive stamina."

"A hundred and nine," Bucky replies dryly. "Practically an infant."

They start walking in the direction of his apartment, fingers threaded together, and Bucky stares at the side of her head for a few moments, opening his mouth and then closing it again.

"Is this a complaint?" He finally asks, and by his tone it's probably clear that he knows the answer, but just wants to be sure.

"Does it sound like a complaint?" she shoots back at him before she untangles her hand from his and gives him a hard swat on his ass, smiling innocently as she does. "Simply an observation."

Then she walks ahead, her hips swaying, and uses a tendril of shimmering green magic to reach back behind her, flicking against his nipple through his new sweater. She does this all without looking at him, but she wonders if he can tell from the set of her shoulders that she's laughing.

How they've gone from fighting to laughing in moments is beyond her. Maybe this is what something good is really like. Easy.

“Just checking,” Bucky says easily, startling a bit when she slaps his ass. He isn’t expecting it and he glances around even though no one’s nearby, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

She walks ahead and Bucky is so entranced by the shape of her ass in her tight jeans that he doesn’t even notice the little green tendril of actual magic coming his way until there’s a sudden sting at his nipple, one that sends a little spark right down to his dick.

“Oh, you’re evil,” Bucky says as he surges forward and wraps his arm around her shoulders from behind, tugging her back playfully against his chest. He wants her so badly, wants to fuck away the last remnants of their fight, because he’s heard that making up is the best part. He even looks around as if some private little alcove might present itself, and then ducks his head to press a kiss behind her ear.

“It’s like you want to get spanked,” he teases in a low voice, because she makes him feel so bold sometimes. He bites at her earlobe and then moves away from her, lightly tapping her ass with his hand before walking in front of her.

Sylvie's eyebrows quirk playfully when Bucky says she's evil and she doesn't deny it. Evil is a word plenty of people have used to describe her, especially those who don't understand the beauty and the appeal of chaos, but she knows Bucky doesn't mean it like that. Instead, with Bucky, she takes it as a compliment.

"Mm, I'm not so sure you have it in you," she says as they walk. Already, she feels herself growing warm and she tenses her thighs as they walk. "Spanking me, that is."

That isn't true at all, he's been rough with her, and she's loved every second of it. But she still can't help but tease him, wanting to goad him into something he might not usually do.

"Ah, you're goading me," Bucky says with a fond laugh, turning around to walk backwards so he can look at her, grinning as he does. "That means you do want me to."

He knows this because he knows her, fascinating and complicated as she is, but she isn't predictable. Bucky doesn't know everything about her, and sometimes it feels like he's barely scraped the surface, but he knows her because she's let him in, and that means the world to him. The silver dagger rests against her chest and it brings Bucky joy to see it there, not because it means that he's marked her or laid claim, but because she loves him enough to wear something that connects her to him in some small way, and that makes him happy. And sort of desperately aroused, but that might be more due to the surrounding circumstances.

He stops walking so that Sylvie catches up to him, and then reaches up with his free hand to put it on her face, thumbing at the corner of her mouth as he presses a kiss to her forehead. "You look flushed," he murmurs with a grin, sliding his hand to the side of her neck and lifting her jaw with his thumb, tilting her head back to look up at him. "We're almost home. Then I'll give you whatever you want."

Sylvie just lifts her shoulder in a shrug, looking as innocent as she can possibly manage, which is surprisingly innocent. Much more than people would expect, though Bucky has definitely seen her wearing this expression before. It's incredible, the kinds of things a wide-eyed blonde woman can get out of people if she looks at them the right way.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answers, looking up at him and wrinkling her nose when he kisses her forehead. Another man might think she didn't like it, but Bucky knows her better by now. She's still just adjusting. "I don't flush. I'm cold-blooded, it's impossible."

And now she's just lying outright. Frost Giant or not, she's still capable of looking very human.

"Stop it," Bucky says with a fond chuckle, reaching up to gently take her chin between his thumb and forefinger as she makes eyes at him. It's very effective, even though he knows she's playing with him.

"Mm, I dunno. You feel pretty warm to me," he says in a low voice, kissing one pink cheek and then her mouth, soft and almost chaste, going so far as to nudge their noses together. "Should I call for a car? We could go to your place and I can see where else I can make you flush."

"I thought we were headed to your place now for exactly that reason," she answers, lifting her chin slightly to nudge her nose against his again. "Or have you changed your mind because my bed is so much nicer?"

Not used to having a home, Sylvie had done exactly what she wanted with her room, and she had spared no expense with the mattress. It's as luxurious as she expects a bed in Asgard would have been and while she can't quite remember, Loki hasn't complained about it so far, which makes her think she's gotten close.

"Whichever place is closer," Bucky says with a laugh, cheeks flushing as she teases him. "We can go to yours, but I'll have to leave in a few hours to go get Bopp."

Even as aroused as he is, so much so that he forgot what they had been discussing, he would never forget about his dog. It would be so easier if they all lived in the same place, the three of them and their loyal pet, but that doesn't seem to be in the cards.

"It is a pretty nice bed," he admits, kissing her again as he puts his hands on her hips and slides them around to the small of her back, glancing around before tucking them into the back pockets of her pants and squeezing. "You pick. I just need you naked very soon."

"There is an alley just to your left," she answers with an arched eyebrow. A part of her is saying it only as a challenge, wanting to see if Bucky would ever take her up on it, because she's not sure he'll be willing to take the risk.

For Sylvie, an alley would be as good as nearly anywhere. For so long, she had no regular access to privacy, to beds. Honestly, our of sheer frustration, she'd likely have fucked Loki on that train had there been more time and a bit of privacy.

She'll just as happily take Bucky in the alley.

Bucky gives her a slightly scandalized look, only because he's never had such an offer. Not from a woman, anyway. Most of his previous encounters with men took place in seedy alleys or back rooms, where shame and frustration almost overshadowed whatever pleasure he felt. Alleys are where he got his itches scratched, where he scored a fix when the need became too great to ignore.

"You deserve better than that," Bucky tells her sincerely, lifting his good hand from her backside to frame her face, fingers sliding into her hair. Then he can't help but to chuckle at himself, shaking his head a little shyly as he tucks her hair behind her ear. "I've had sex in alleys," he tries to explain, hoping that she'll understand what he means. "I never came out of it feeling particularly good."

"We would make it good," she answers, but she isn't going to pressure him into anything. Instead she takes his hand and begins to march purposefully in the direction of his flat, knowing it isn't far at all, and if they just start walking, they'll be there before long.

And they can stop talk about doing things in alleyways and actually get around to doing them in a bed or on a couch or on the floor for all she cares.

"If anyone could remake the alley experience for you, it's me," she promises, but her grin tells him she's teasing now. She won't ask him for something he can't give.

She makes an intriguing case, and Bucky quirks a brow at her as she drags him along. He knows that she's teasing, but it's a good point. Why not overwrite those memories, and turn something dirty and shameful into something good?

Bucky pauses, watching Sylvie's ass as she walks away from him, and then glances around. There isn't anyone right nearby, and no one he can hear in the alley, so he gives into the urge and comes up behind her. He wraps his arms around her and lifts her off of her feet, chuckling as he drags her back into the alley, nose pressed up under her ear.

"Okay, you got me," he says with a fond laugh, setting her down once they're out of sight and turning her to press her back against the brick, leaning against her as he catches her mouth in a kiss, nipping gently at her bottom lip and cupping her face. "Let's make a new memory, hm?"

Bucky is hardly a prude. Sylvie is well aware he's grown up in a world and a time that ask very different things of him than it ever would have of her and she does her best to understand and respect that, even when it seems baffling to her. Still, he's not a prude. Not even close.

And yet she still doesn't expect him to change his mind. When he lifts her off her feet, she's almost surprised enough to blast him instinctively, but manages to hold off at the last moment.

That would be a sad way to end a very interesting turn of events.

"Oh, I'm all for a new memory," she agrees as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and chases another kiss.

It feels a little thrilling, pressing her up against the brick wall of a bar that isn’t open yet like they’re teenagers who can’t keep their hands off of each other. The latter part feels true despite their age, and Bucky drops his shopping bag to rest at their feet as he takes her face in both hands, kissing her as soundly as a stolen back alley kiss demands.

He doesn’t know if he’ll fuck her back here. He’ll probably leave that up to her, but he does lower a hand to grab at her breast through her shirt, boldly and without hesitation because he knows that she’ll let him. He knows that she likes it when he pinches at her nipples. It makes her wet, and suddenly Bucky wants nothing more than to feel that slick heat against his fingers.

“You make me hard so damn easy,” he pants against her mouth, biting at her lower lip as his cock strains against the front of his jeans.

No one has ever accused Sylvie of making anything easy and she laughs against Bucky's mouth, then wriggles in his grip, setting herself back on her feet properly. She could push him, overpower him, make him set her down, but she's come to trust Bucky to read her signals.

Once she's steady, she turns them and pushes him up against the wall instead.

"Then let me make it easier," she says as she pushes up the hem of the sweater he's just bought. As soft as promised, the material bunches in her hands and she ducks her head to kiss his chest before she drags the flat of her tongue over one nipple.

Sylvie wriggles in his grip and Bucky immediately sets her down, knowing that he’s already pushed it a little by snatching her off of the street. The last thing he wants to do is push her boundaries, but he thinks that he’s gotten pretty good at reading her. That in itself is a point of pride.

Her feet touch the ground and he leans in to kiss her, but before he can make contact, she spins him around and presses him against the brick. She drags his sweater up and Bucky’s mind goes a little hazy with arousal, hips jerking and breath hitching as she licks at his nipple. The air is cold and dry against his skin, at odds with the warm swipe of her tongue, and Bucky bites his lip.

“Yeah, that definitely did it,” he says in a low rasp, because his cock is twitching to life in his jeans. It seems to do that whenever he’s in close proximity to her or Loki, like he’s thirteen year old hit with a stiff breeze. It’s kind of ridiculous.

His good hand goes to the back of her head, not pushing or guiding but simply holding in, feeling the silky strands of her hair slip through his fingers.

“I never knew those were so sensitive,” he admits with a breathless chuckle.

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.

The bite makes him hiss, and light pain mixes with pleasure in a way that he's discovered that he enjoys. Not too much-- he's been hurt too many times to find it fun, but he likes the sharp edge of it sometimes.

He looks down in time to see the cushion suddenly appear between his spread feet and he can't help but to laugh, open and fond and a little astonished by what's happening. He loves her so much, every prickly and princessy part of her.

The brick is cold against his back, countering the warmth of her lips and tongue. She doesn't pull his cock out of his pants, instead grabbing at it through the material, and Bucky hisses at the pressure. His hand tightens in her hair just a little, enough to give her that tiny bit of pain, because he knows that she likes it, too.

"This is gonna make a hell of a memory," he teases, keeping one hand in her hair as he cups her chin gently in his metal hand, thumbing at her bottom lip.

"That's the point," she answers, done teasing, done wasting time. If they're not going to get caught, she ought to make quick work of this, and not because she doesn't enjoy it. Any other moment, Sylvie would take her time, she just thinks being at the centre of an arrest attempt might stain the memory she's trying to create for Bucky.

Her fingers work quickly, opening his jeans, and rather than push his trousers and underwear down, she simply dips her hand inside and takes his cock in her hand. Then she tugs gently, working the material out of her way, lips parting to take Bucky into her mouth almost the second he's free of his clothing.

He's warm and heavy against her tongue and Sylvie makes a sound of pleasure low in her throat, taking him deeper. She braces one hand on his hip, the other still wrapped around the base of his cock as she drags her tongue down and then back up the length of him.