(no subject)

[semi_stable]

The longest relationship that Bucky ever had was with a girl named Daisy. They dated for a few months when he was nineteen, and he feels a little guilty for being unable to remember just how long exactly, or the color of her hair, or why they even broke up. He’s willing to bet that it was his fault, because he didn’t like being tied down. He was young and wanted to play the field, sow his wild oats before finding a girl he could build a life with. He figured he would have a boring life, unremarkable like his father’s, or his father before him.

Oh, how wrong he was. Everything changed and now he’s nothing like that young, dumb outgoing idiot who would chase girls with a charming grin. No, all his plans changed and he knows that he’ll never settle down with a wife and kids, but that’s okay. He’s different now, and Daisy doesn’t hold the record for longest relationship any longer. No, that record is tied between two ancient gods, and has been for an entire year.

It hits Bucky all of a sudden while he’s putting something into the calendar on his phone. He stares at an adjacent date and realizes why it’s so important— it’s been a year since Sylvie kissed him on that beach and told him that they could try, that they could all try, together.

Bucky was so sure that it would go wrong, or that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, or they’d get sick of him. He didn’t think it would last because nothing good ever does, but it’s been a whole year and she still loves him. And he loves her.

He doesn’t know if celebrating an anniversary would be of interest to Sylvie, mostly because a year probably doesn’t seem like such a long time to her or Loki. No, she probably wouldn’t like something big or fancy but she might appreciate the thought because as much as she would deny it, she’s a bit sentimental.

He sends her a text and asks her to come over, wondering if she’ll know why or if he’ll have to tell her. In any case, it’s been a year and they’re all still here, still in love despite all odds, and that deserves to be celebrated.

Comments

[the_variant]

She is sentimental, more than she'd ever openly admit, but the evidence of it hangs on the end of a chain around her neck, the silver dagger pendant pleasantly catching the light whenever she walks. It even occurs to her that she knows why he's asking her to come over and a smile twitches at the edges of her mouth as she replies, telling him she'll be there soon.

It doesn't take Sylvie long to get ready. Besides a swipe of mascara, she can't be bothered with makeup and she runs her hands through her hair before dressing in jeans, boots, a grey t-shirt, with the dagger settled against the fabric. But halfway to Bucky's, in the back of a car, she realizes maybe he'd meant for this to be special. Maybe she's meant to dress up. Bring a gift.

"Fuck," she whispers. The driver glances at her in the rearview mirror as she changes her outfit in a shimmer of magic, replacing her jeans and t-shirt with a black dress. But then she feels overdressed and the green washes over her again, leaving her in a pair of black, well tailored pants and a green silk shirt. That somehow feels wrong, too, and by the time she arrives at Bucky's place, she's changed her outfit three more times, forgotten about stopping somewhere to get a gift and she knocks on his door, dressed in jeans, half a silk blouse, her t-shirt sticking out from the half she hasn't managed to properly manifest in her uncertainty.

[semi_stable]

Bucky has come to learn that his hearing is about on par with a dog's now, so it's not much of a surprise when he and Bopp's heads both jerk up at the sound of a car approaching, gravel popping under tires. He feels a brief flutter of nerves, but not necessarily in a bad way. He likes that he still gets so excited to see her. It's been a year, and sometimes it still feels so new.

He's dressed in black slacks and a dark blue dress shirt, unbuttoned over a black tank, because he wanted to look nice but not overly dressed, and when he opens the door to find Sylvie there, he thinks maybe he wasn't alone in his debate over what to wear. The thought that maybe Sylvie, an ancient god who has witnessed the destruction of worlds over and over again, might be nervous over seeing him is so ridiculous and charming that Bucky can't help but to laugh. It's not at her expense, not cruel in the slightest, but instead a happy sound that bubbles out of him as he leans in to take her face in his hands and give her a lingering kiss on the mouth.

"Wardrobe malfunction?" He asks against her lips, smiling and kissing the tip of her nose. "You're amazing."

[the_variant]

"Oh, shut up," she answers. When she leans into the kiss, a green shimmer slides down the length of her body, starting with her shoulders and ending at her feet. In the end, she's dressed in the jeans and t-shirt she started in.

If Bucky didn't like her like this, they certainly wouldn't still be together, as Sylvie rarely wears anything else. She always looks entirely put together, but still casual, both fashionable and ready for a fight at any moment. They may be jeans and a t-shirt, but they look like expensive jeans and a t-shirt.

"You look nice," she says, dragging a finger down the centre of his chest. "Dark blue. Hmm."

[semi_stable]

"Nah." He grins and then gives her another quick kiss, pulling back to watch as a green glow spills down her body and leaves her looking more put together. He ducks his head briefly at the compliment and tightens his arms around her waist, lifting her off of her feet and twisting to bring her into the house, kicking one foot back to close the door.

"What, like you two are the only ones who can have a signature color?" Bucky smirks and then sets her back down on her feet, hands resting on the curve of her hips. He smiles, soft and fond, and kisses her cheek.

"I'm glad you're here," he tells her, and then laughs as Bopp squirms her way between them, tail wagging against Sylvie's legs. "I'm not the only one."

[the_variant]

She still remembers the argument they had over the colour of a sweater, how angry she had been at him for such a stupid reason, but she remembers it for a good reason. For the necklace she wears daily.

"Was I supposed to bring a gift?" she ask, hand against his chest as Bopp squirms between them. She shifts back a little, ducking to scratch Bopp's ears in greeting, then she looks back up at Bucky, waiting for a response.

She feels like she was supposed to. Anniversaries are something people celebrate with gifts. All this is still so new to her, however, and Bucky's birthday had been successful, but she'd been on edge nearly the entire time, wondering if she had done things properly.

[semi_stable]

The question makes a fond smile spread slowly across his face, because she remembered and that's gift enough. He didn't get one for her either, mostly because he wasn't sure that he should make a big deal of it. She remembered, and cared enough that she messed up her clothes, and she wears a necklace Bucky gave her every day, not because she's his but just because she wants to. That's more than he could ever ask for.

"You've brought me you," he assures her, resting his hands on her hips as he looks down at her with a pleased smile that shifts into a flirty sort of smirk. The last thing he wants is for her to be nervous, or think that he's expecting something from her. He isn't, of course. All he wants is her to be here. "And surprise, surprise. That's exactly what I wanted."

[the_variant]

"Oh, that was terribly corny, minus five points," Sylvie quips, though the faint flush of pink in her cheeks and her smile say otherwise. At this point, she's sure he can read her with relative ease and knows, despite her words, she likes what he's said very much.

Corny or not, it makes her feel like there's finally a place where she belongs.

"Now what?" she asks. "Dinner? Is that the appropriate course of action? I've never liked anyone long enough for there to be any kind of anniversary celebration." Just him. Just Loki.

[semi_stable]

"Yeah, really looks like you hated it," he teases, leaning in to press a firm kiss to her pink cheek. Bucky always feels such a swell of pride when he makes Sylvie blush, because he knows that it isn't an easy thing to do.

Bucky kisses her jaw and her neck as she speaks, and then pulls back to look at her with a fond expression as his fingertips fit into the dimples at the small of her back. "I haven't either, truth be told. I had a few girlfriends before the war, but it was just kid stuff, nothin' serious."

There was nothing after, not until them, but she knows that already. Instead of answering, he gives a small shrug and kisses her again. "I didn't think much beyond getting you here, but I can cook us something. Or we could order out. We can do whatever we want," he says with a smile. "When have we ever done anything by the book, anyway?"

[the_variant]

Never. They've never done anything by the book.

But there are times when Sylvie wonders if that's what Bucky wants or if he's doing it for them. Two gods of mischief and chaos, both utterly broken in their own different ways. That makes sense to her. But Bucky, broken or not in his own way, had at least once had the chance at a normal life. He could have gone off to Asgard's war, then come home, gotten married, had a trio of adorable children, and died an old man, surrounded by those who loved him.

The world prevented that from happening for him, but she wonders if he still wants it. If by the book is where he still hoped he might end up.

She can't give him that, but she can give him other normal moments.

"Let's go out for dinner," she says, taking his hand. "Somewhere with table cloths and candles. I'll properly change."

[semi_stable]

The suggestion surprises Bucky. It hadn't occurred to him that going out might be something that Sylvie wanted to do. He didn't know if she'd want to celebrate the day at all, and he stares at her as he processes the turn of events. They don't need to go out, no, but he finds that he wants to. He wants the candlelight dinner and the champagne, and he finds himself touched that she would offer that to him. Maybe she knows him even better than he knows himself sometimes, and he's so fucking grateful for that.

"You want to go out?" He asks her, but it seems as if she's made up her mind. A warm smile spreads across his face, cheeks flushing as he ducks his head to try and hide it, only to realize that he doesn't need to. She already knows that he's blushing, because she knows him. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Bucky squeezes her hand and then lifts it over her head, playfully twirling her away from him and letting go so she can change. "Wow me, doll."

[the_variant]

It's an easy enough fix, because she truly doesn't feel comfortable wearing a dress, no matter how long she's been here, no matter how safe it might seem. A dress just feels wrong and when the green washes over her one final time, she settles on something simple, timeless, and entirely Sylvie.

Her boots are a little taller, a platform and block heel rather than a spike, which would be impossible to run in. The pants are black, perfectly tailored, and the blouse she's chosen is a deep plum colour. She leaves it unbuttoned perhaps more than she ought to, exposing her collarbones, a bit of her chest, where the dagger hangs against skin.

"You're already dressed to go out," she comments.

[semi_stable]

One might think that, after a year of seeing it, Bucky might have gotten used to all the magic that Sylvie and Loki do around him. In some ways, he has, but watching Sylvie's clothes transform in a shimmer of green leaves him a little awed. Or maybe that's just the woman herself, standing in Bucky's living room like a vision come to life.

"You look amazing," he tells her sincerely, looking her up and down in a way that's more appreciative than hungry. His gaze lands on the dagger resting against her chest and his smile softens as he steps forward, reaching out to carefully take the pendant between his thumb and forefinger. He hadn't known what the necklace would come to represent when he gave it to her, and only thought that she might like it and wanted her to have it. He didn't expect her to never take it off, and seeing it day after day makes him feel good in a way that he would have trouble putting into words.

He lets go of the pendant and then rests his palm over it for a moment, smiling at her as he feels the beat of her heart against his fingertips. "I really do love you."

[the_variant]

"I really do love you," she replies. "Which is absolutely absurd."

Her smile is soft, telling him she doesn't mean it as an insult in the slightest, that it's as absurd that he loves her at all. This wasn't meant to happen, not a single moment of it, and yet somehow they've caused it all anyway.

She's made a habit of undoing the meant tos of her life, it seems.

"Now come on," she says, reaching up to take his hand from her chest. "Before my car leaves. We can make him take us somewhere extravagant."

[semi_stable]

"Certifiable," Bucky replies with an affectionate smile of his own, because he knows what she means. They're all a little crazy, and there are so many reasons why this is a bad idea, but it works anyway.

He leans in to kiss her but she pulls away before he can, tugging him toward the door. He laughs softly and tosses a goodbye to his animals over his shoulder as they leave the house. He lets go of her only long enough to lock up while she stops the driver, then follows after to open the rear passenger door for her, gesturing for her to get in.

"Lead the way to extravagance, darling," he says happily, unable to keep how pleased he is out of his expression. "Anything you'd like."

[the_variant]

As Sylvie slides into the car, she almost tells him he ought to choose. That this is for him, really, only to realize that isn't true. It's for the both of them, even if she doesn't come from a world in which things like this mattered as much as they might have in his.

Despite not having the context for it, she finds it's just as important to her.

"Let me find something," she says once they're settled, opening her phone to do a quick search. "What about this?"

She holds her phone toward Bucky to see the website, a small French place that looks dimly lit and romantic, like she imagines places one goes on their anniversary are supposed to look.

[semi_stable]

Any worry that Bucky might have had about Sylvie simply humoring him fades entirely when he gets in the car and sees her cute nose buried in her phone with a very Sylvie-like intensity. He settles and watches her with a fond expression on his face, only looking away when she presents him with her phone. He gives the site a quick scroll, nodding almost immediately. It looks classy and expensive, like no place he belongs, but he reminds himself that's just the kid from Brooklyn talking.

Most importantly, it looks intimate and romantic, and that suits their needs perfectly.

"That looks great," he says with a nod, and he doesn't bother pointing out that a place like that might be booked solid because that isn't really a concern of theirs. Sylvie can score a table anywhere in the city, at any time.

After reading off the address to the driver, he goes to hand the phone back and then stops and bites his lip, looking almost shy as he holds the phone up. "Can we take a picture?"

[the_variant]

It's something she's seen people doing all over Darrow, all over plenty of timelines, really, but not something she's ever done herself. Any pictures Bucky or Loki have of her, they've taken without her knowledge and she generally doesn't think about things like posing or smiling.

But again, it's something Bucky wants, and there's a sense of vulnerability in his question she can't ignore.

She nods, mouth twisted into something that's her version of a smile. She'll try. For him. For Loki.

[semi_stable]

It's not something they really do, taking posed photos. They don't gush about each other online, or make a spectacle of their relationship. It's not anyone's business but their own, but Bucky wants one for himself. His memory is still getting better and he isn't really losing things, not anymore, but he wants to capture the moment anyway.

He leans in and holds out his phone, taking one picture and then quickly turning his head to catch Sylvie's mouth in a kiss before taking another, hopefully catching her in a moment of surprise.

"Thanks," he says as he pulls away, grinning at her and then glancing down at the screen. "I must say, we're a good lookin' couple."

[the_variant]

"Stunning," she agrees, smirking down at the picture. She swipes on Bucky's phone, the one where he'd kissed her, indeed catching her by surprise. It's the one she prefers, one that captures her as she feels, even if she can't explain what that means exactly.

"Though honestly, this entire city is made up of rather beautiful people," she comments, handing his phone back to him as the car winds down a street toward their destination. "One more strange thing about this place."

[semi_stable]

"One of many," Bucky replies, but he doesn't really want to linger on how this place seems to have been so specifically curated. Instead, he looks down at the photo, touching his thumb to the crinkles at the corner of Sylvie's eyes, and then slides the phone into his pocket.

Thankfully, their driver says very little beyond confirming their destination and telling them to have a nice night as they get out of the car. Bucky thanks him and quickly leaves him a good rating and sizable tip on the app as he follows Sylvie up to the restaurant. He darts ahead of her in time to open the door for her, giving her a cheeky smile as she passes him. He knows damn well that she can open her own doors, but his good manners are deeply ingrained and if he does these things for her, it's because he wants to and not like he feels that he should.

"Looks pretty busy," Bucky remarks as they approach the hostess stand. A tall woman in a black dress holding a tablet greets them, asking for the name on their reservation, and Bucky smirks to himself as he puts a hand low on Sylvie's back. "It's under your name, isn't it, darling?"

[the_variant]

Sylvie hasn't made a reservation and she arches an eyebrow at Bucky, knowing he doesn't like when she uses her powers on people. But this, she figures, is harmless, and she reaches out to touch her fingertips to the woman's arm. Briefly, a spark of green light passes between them.

"Is it," she agrees, then nods toward the tablet. "Right there. Table fourteen."

The woman glances down at her tablet and then looks back up, smiling. "Of course," she agrees as she taps the screen, then collects two menus. "Right this way."

[semi_stable]

Sylvie gives him a look and Bucky just winks back at her, because he's getting used to small displays of magic like this. He can't expect them to never use their powers around him, and this is something trivial, something that Bucky slipping some cash over could accomplish just the same. Besides, it's a special occasion.

They follow the hostess over to a table in a corner, more private than most, and Bucky thanks her as they settle in. He takes the seat with his back to the wall, scanning the restaurant briefly before turning his gaze on Sylvie with an enamored smile.

"You look beautiful in candlelight," he tells her, because it's the first thing on his mind, and he knows that it might make her squirm. "You always look beautiful."

[the_variant]

"Of course I do, I'm a goddess," Sylvie answers, a quip to cover the way it still makes her feel when Bucky gives her a compliment. Her physical appearance has never been much of a concern for her, but she'd never been lied to the way Loki had. For Sylvie, being a Frost Giant has always been part of her identity, never hidden, simply shifted to exist behind a glamour so she was able to walk through Asgard without issue.

And then it had been easier to hide in the timelines when she looked like everyone else. She doesn't bother with makeup, she doesn't consider how her hair looks beyond it being not in her face.

It still makes her cheeks heat when he tells her she's beautiful.

[semi_stable]

The less than humble quip doesn't surprise Bucky. He expected her to brush it off, much like she does with most compliments he gives her, but he knows how to look past her words and see her cheeks brighten with color. That slight flush means the world to him. He wants to see it every single day.

He smiles warmly at her for a long moment and then looks down at the menu. It's a limited selection, which Bucky appreciates since it narrows down the fancy options that he has to choose from. There's a ribeye dish that sounds good, so he sets the menu back down just in time for their server to arrive and ask for their drink order.

"We're in a need of bottle of champagne," Bucky says with an easy smile, looking up at the young woman and then ever at Sylvie. "We're celebrating."

[the_variant]

"He's more of an expert than I am," Sylvie says when the server looks at her as well, as if she's waiting for confirmation. Champagne is nice, it tastes good, even if Sylvie remains cautious when drinking, careful not to cloud her judgement or her reaction time too much.

She still remembers all too well that trip on the train where Loki had decided laying low meant getting drunk.

"But yes," she agrees, then smiles. "I think champagne sounds nice."

[semi_stable]

Bucky shoots Sylvie an amused look at that, because he's far from an expert on the topic of expensive drinks, and then looks at the menu again and reads off the name of one of the pricier options, since this a celebration and they both deserve something nice. The server leaves them with some more time to look over the menu, and Bucky looks over at Sylvie once they're alone again. She really does look so beautiful, and Bucky takes a long moment to simply stare at her.

"What are you going to get?" He asks eventually, glancing down at the menu again. "I'm going with the ribeye, surprising no one. What are you thinking for appetizers?"

It's also no surprise that he's a little fixated on food, stomach rumbling slightly. They both can put away a good amount of food. "Maybe we can get dessert to go. Take some home to Loki."

[the_variant]

"This is our anniversary," she answers as she views the menu. "He gets his own with us both."

It's an odd thing to think, but it's true. She and Loki have been this version of together for just about two years now, their inevitable admission of their feelings coming around early December, and if he wants to celebrate, they can do it then. This is for the two of them tonight.

"We'll go back to your place tonight," she tells Bucky, then selects an item off the menu and smiles as their waitress returns.

[semi_stable]

The answer surprises a soft laugh out of Bucky, but it pleases him, too. He knows that they both love him, but it still means something that Sylvie wants this to be just theirs. His cheeks flush and he smiles at her, nodding as the waitress approaches. "Sounds like a plan."

They each order their food, because Bucky wouldn't dream of ordering for her, and he thanks the waitress as she pours them each a glass of champagne and leaves the bottle on the table. Once they're alone again, Bucky bites his lip and looks at his glass for a moment before picking it up by the stem and holding it up a little. He's so happy in this moment, and he knows that it's written all over his face. If this were the forties, he'd want to put a ring in her glass and propose. But it isn't, and he knows that what they have, what they all have, is too big and important for something like a marriage certificate. They don't need anything like that, because they already feel so much more.

"I love you," Bucky says simply, smiling at her as he holds his glass out for a toast. "I love all of you, and I love us. Here's to hoping that this is only the beginning."

[the_variant]

There are times, more often than not, Sylvie doesn't know what to do with such emotions. Her own, Bucky's, Loki's. She sees them together and thinks she's the odd one out, a broken person who has spent so much time on the run that she can't understand love the way they do.

But then there are times like this, when she feels like she's perhaps found the only two people in this timeline who understand love exactly how she does.

"I love you," she agrees, then lifts her glass and touches the rim to Bucky's, a soft clink in the din of the restaurant. "And I love us."

[semi_stable]

Their meals come and they eat together, talking and laughing and sipping champagne. Bucky doesn't forget who they are, or where they came from, but for a little it feels like they're just normal people. He's out celebrating with his girlfriend, and tonight they'll go home together and probably celebrate some more. It feels calm and easy in a way that Bucky appreciates, and by the time their forks are scraping the last bites from their plates, Bucky feels lighter than air.

"Do you want some dessert?" Bucky asks after sucking the tines of his fork clean and setting it down on his plate. "Or maybe we could get some to go and have it at home. I still have that bottle of Asgardian ale."

Neither of them particularly enjoy lowering their inhibitions, both of them always on alert, but if any night called for a drink that might actually do something to them, it's this one.

[the_variant]

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asks as she sets her fork down. "Take advantage of me?"

They both know he doesn't need to get her drunk for that, but she enjoys teasing him. It used to be her teasing held more of an edge, she liked to make Bucky squirm, feel uncomfortable, and while she still does to a certain extent, it isn't the same as it once was. She doesn't torment him in order to keep him at a distance.

Somehow the same teasing has become the exact opposite. A drive to bring him closer.

[semi_stable]

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to do," Bucky volleys back, only because he knows that she'll understand that he's teasing her right back. Taking advantage of Sylvie in any way is the last thing that he'd want to do, and she knows that. She trusts Bucky, and he knows better than most anyone just how rare and precious that is. He'd never betray that. "I bet you're real cute when you're tipsy."

He winks at her, chin resting on his metal hand, and only looks away when the server brings the dessert menu without asking, probably having noticed them both clean their plates without issue. Bucky looks it over and then hands it to Sylvie for her input.

"What do you think pairs well with that paint thinner?" He asks, referring to the harsh burn of the ale waiting for them back at his place. "Chocolate cake is usually a safe bet."

[the_variant]

It's been a very long time since Sylvie has been anything even close to tipsy. She'll have a drink here and there, even in the middle of a few good apocalypses, she'd stopped to have a beer, but actually drunk? It's been eons.

Maybe it would be good for her. Maybe it would be fun. She's safe with Bucky, after all, a reality she's long since felt, even if it's something she still occasionally struggles to really accept it.

"Chocolate cake," she agrees without looking at the menu. "And how dare you insult my home's ale in such a way."

[semi_stable]

"I guess my delicate human throat just can't handle the pressure," he jokes, winking at her and then politely signalling for the waitress when she passes by. "One slice of the chocolate cake to go and the check, please."

She takes the menu and heads off, and Bucky leans back in his chair as he looks around the restaurant. Under the table, the toe of his boot touches the inside of Sylvie's foot and he taps there a few times, smiling at her while they wait. It's a peaceful moment, and Bucky doesn't usually find himself so relaxed in a room full of strangers. He assumes it's the company and the good food, and the promise of a continued celebration back home. It's a good day, he realizes, then takes a calm, deep breath as he taps Sylvie's foot again, smiling warmly at her.

He works his wallet out of his pocket under the table and has his card ready to go as soon as the waitress is back with their take out bag, sitting up a little straighter as he waits. As nice of a time he's having, he's antsy to get home where it'll be just the two of them. Thankfully, she comes back quickly and Bucky thanks her, signing the receipt and leaving a generous tip. He stands and takes the bag, holding out his metal hand to help Sylvie up from her seat. She doesn't need the antiquated gesture, but sometimes Bucky can't seem to help it. "Ready to go?"

[the_variant]

At the touch of Bucky's foot against hers, Sylvie smirks at him from across the table and then nudges the toe of her boot higher, against his ankle, then the back of his calf. If they weren't about to leave, she'd likely work her boot off and get her foot higher still, but instead she just takes Bucky's offered hand when he rises from the table.

"Such a gentleman," she teases. "I never know quite what to do with that, especially when you're so terribly filthy in private."

With another smirk, Sylvie releases Bucky's hand and orders a car on her phone while she walks toward the entrance of the restaurant, leaving him to follow.

[semi_stable]

Sylvie doesn't seem to bother with lowering her voice and Bucky chokes on a laugh, cheeks flushing as he glances around the restaurant. Sylvie looks very pleased with herself and Bucky smiles, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation as he follows her through the restaurant. She's tapping away at her phone, calling a car from the looks of it, and Bucky seamlessly moves ahead of her so he can open the door for her so that she doesn't even need to slow her stride.

Once they're out on the sidewalk without such an audience, Bucky scoops an arm around her narrow waist and reels her in, tickling playfully at her side as he presses a firm kiss to her cheek.

"You drive me crazy," Bucky says happily, nipping at her jaw and then kissing her forehead. "But you know that."

[the_variant]

“I do it on purpose,” she answers with a smirk, slipping one hand beneath the fabric of his shirt and scratching her nails along the skin of his abdomen. Her nails are short, kept relatively blunt, but they can still leave a mark when she means them to.

“It brings me joy, knowing I can cause a little chaos on the day to day,” she adds, then tips her head away him for mouth and instead leans in to sharply nip at his throat.

[semi_stable]

"Tell me something I don't know," Bucky replies in a playful tone, keeping his gaze on her as she moves around him. She scratches and bites him, teases him, and Bucky feels the strong urge to grab her by the hips, so he does. His hands clutch at her and he thinks about the time he dragged her into an alley, blushing a little even as he lifts one hand to grip hard at the back of her neck and meet her gaze with a heated look of his own.

"How long until the car is here? I want to get home," Bucky tells her almost casually, though the look on his face is decidedly not casual. He smiles in a way that shows all his teeth and then leans in to press a kiss to her cheek, and another to her jaw, before speaking quietly against her ear in a low, firm tone. "I want to eat this cake off your chest. How many licks do you think it'd take?"

[the_variant]

"Oh, far too many," she replies, voice just as low. She presses her thigh between his, rubbing against him with purpose. Before the car even gets here, she wants him hard. Wanting her.

"With what I'm planning to do to you, that thing will be crushed between us before you have half a chance to eat it," she continues, using her own grip on Bucky to pull him against her as she leans back against the restaurant wall. The car is only a few minutes away, so she slips her hand between them, finds his cock through his trousers, and squeezes. "You better stay ready for me in the car."

[semi_stable]

For fairly obvious reasons, Bucky doesn't really enjoy being told what to do. This, however, is a special case. Sylvie bosses him around and it doesn't feel like she's trying to control him. She just knows what she wants, and Bucky likes that a lot. It's not something he ever really experienced in bed, given that he was usually the one in charge, and it's kind of nice to know that he doesn't really need to think. On some nights, like this one, he can just let Sylvie take over and know that he'll enjoy himself. So far, so good on that front.

He swallows hard when her sure hand dips between his legs, breath catching as his gaze darts around briefly. No one is really paying them any mind, but he's not sure he would care if they were, not when Sylvie is looking at him like she is now. All he can do is nod at her, then let out a breath when the car slides up to the curb and Sylvie twists away from him. He follows her into the back of the car, settling in close to her as she confirms the address with the driver. Once they're moving, Bucky reaches over and puts his good hand on the inside of her thigh, sliding it slowly up and down and then shifting to press two fingers between her legs. If she were wearing a dress, he'd put them inside of her, right here in the back of the car. As it is, he just rubs firmly at the seam of her pants as he makes polite conversation with the driver. He asks if they're having a nice night and Bucky shifts his hand to grip at Sylvie's cunt through her pants almost possessively, a slight smirk on his lips.

"It's been fantastic," Bucky says easily, grinding his palm down against her clit through thin layers of clothing. "And it's still young."