That last second is one of the moments Sylvie loves the best, when he buries himself inside of her as deep as he can, when she feels fuller than before, when she can sense that he’s coming, then the warmth that floods into her as he comes.

After a moment, he keeps thrusting and she can feel that warmth spilling out of her, against her thighs, and she moves with him when Bucky rolls to the side. Their legs tangle, he’s still inside her and Sylvie gives an experimental clench of her muscles just to see what kind of sound he might make.

“Practically professional,” she agrees, laughing breathlessly. “But we could always do with more practice, don’t you think? No one’s perfect.”