By necessity, sex has almost always been rushed, an act meant to release tension, little else. Loki has taken his time with her since they began sleeping together, but it remains out of the ordinary for Sylvie, to the point that she’s still surprised when Bucky kisses her like he does, the inside of her ankle, where it turns out she’s shockingly sensitive, then her elbow, her bicep, before finally finding her mouth.

This is more than just sex, she realizes. Maybe that should have been obvious, maybe Bucky realized it long ago, but it comes as a shock to Sylvie to really understand for the first time that Bucky isn’t here just to fuck her. He cares.

It’s terrifying and she thinks about telling him that later, because at the moment she’s luckily too aroused for it to make her want to run.

“Mm,” she says, wriggling out of her jeans after she’s reached down to help her. “On my knees, I think. This time.”