Panting heavily, Sylvie is prepared to take Bucky back into her mouth, swallow him as deep as she can, when he asks if he can come inside of her again. She stifles another moan against the cut of his hip and then nods, breathless and wonderfully sore and utterly exhausted.

And entirely looking forward to doing all this again. And again.

“Sit up,” she orders, sliding off him slowly, then turning to face him. “Back against the headboard.”