"That's right," Sylvie says when she sees Bucky link his hands behind his back. "You're a gentleman. Dinner and dancing before anything else, if I recall."
And she does recall, nearly everything about that night. She remembers the dance, the way they'd spoken of it, a euphemism for sex, how she'd asked him if it was always so much work or if someone could just have a need, an itch to be scratched.
They hadn't made it as far as her bedroom that night. She finds, despite her teasing, she's actually sort of looking forward to changing that. Having time with Bucky in a bed where they're not concerned with space or having been seen or whether there's going to be sand wedged into crevices when they're through.
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And she does recall, nearly everything about that night. She remembers the dance, the way they'd spoken of it, a euphemism for sex, how she'd asked him if it was always so much work or if someone could just have a need, an itch to be scratched.
They hadn't made it as far as her bedroom that night. She finds, despite her teasing, she's actually sort of looking forward to changing that. Having time with Bucky in a bed where they're not concerned with space or having been seen or whether there's going to be sand wedged into crevices when they're through.