[ WWII AU ] Chantez, compagnons, dans la nuit la liberté

[from_the_outside]

There's nothing strange about Yvette Rheaume or the credentials she provides to Monsieur Lavigne when she arrives to replace Amelie. "Her mother is ill," Lavigne explains to the girl. "You will fill in for her duties until she returns, yes?"

Yes, of course. And it's a relief when the girl proves both capable and well-mannered; he simply cannot afford to force Herr Schneider to wait. If the facility were to cancel their monthly orders, he'd lose hundreds, thousands of francs in profit, money which assuages his guilt at assisting the enemy. He explains the process to the girl as they ride in a jeep towards the facility, and impresses on her the need for perfect discretion. "I will expect you to take clear and comprehensive notes," he reminds her. "We cannot miss any opportunity to re-supply."

"Yes, sir," she promises, and dutifully notes his instructions.

His ears are ringing by the time they reach the facility and Herr Schneider steps outside to greet them, his sharp eyes resting for a moment on Yvette. "Who is this lovely creature?" he asks, and Lavigne hastens to assure him of her loyalty and credentials. The German nods and politely ushers them inside. Lavigne is too relieved and too focused on the robust order to come to pay much mind to the way the man keeps half an eye on Yvette.

But she doesn't miss it. Not a single glance.

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[nerves_of_ice]

He sets their linked hands on his waist and lets go, leaving her hand there and putting his arm around her to hold her close as he kisses her, as she returns each sweet kiss with one of her own.

[from_the_outside]

She's tried not to push him in the days since they'd sat beneath the tree on his stashed groundcloth, but it's so much harder than she would ever have anticipated. With every light touch, every time his arms go around her, all she can think about is how good it feels and how much more she wants.

Nothing has made her change her mind. If anything, her desire has only grown.

Curving her hand at his side, she tips her head and presses a kiss to his cheek, to his jaw, to the side of his throat.

[nerves_of_ice]

He groans softly as a shiver runs through him. Sensation sparks through him like chain lightning.

“God, baby, how you make me feel,” he murmurs, drawing his fingers through her hair.

[from_the_outside]

She kisses his skin tenderly, then sets her head against his as she closes her eyes, breathing him in.

"You make me feel like I'm flying," she whispers.

Or like her heart has forgotten how to keep a steady, non-drunken pace. Same difference. "It feels like I come to life when you touch me."

[nerves_of_ice]

“That so?” he murmurs. Bucky takes his hand from her hair and runs it over her shoulder and down her side to her hip, then starts back up again, slow and deliberate.

“I’ll remember that,” he promises, low and warm.

[from_the_outside]

She shivers as his hand tracks over her side, curving gently against her, and slips her own fingers into the thick soft mess of his hair. "Good," she murmurs back, and kisses him again, gentle and lingering, savoring the taste and feel of him. "Do I feel nice to you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“Like a dream come true,” he promises, and stretches his fingers out over her rib cage.

“I want to tease you a little,” he murmurs. “Make you feel good. Is that okay?”

[from_the_outside]

She huffs a laugh and kisses the side of his neck once more. "It's okay by me," she murmurs. "But if you snap what's left of my self control, you'll only have yourself to blame."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Then I guess we better hope mine’s as good as I think it is,” he murmurs, and bends his head to capture her mouth as he skims both hands along her sides, shaping the curve of her hips.

[from_the_outside]

She makes a small sound on a caught breath in and runs her own hands over his shoulders and back to the sides of his neck.

"Okay," she teases, low and warm. "But if I'm being honest, I'm not going to hope that hard."

[nerves_of_ice]

He chuckles at that. “I meant what I said before,” he reminds her. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t stayed awake at night thinking of ways to touch you.”

As he speaks, he curves his hands over the sweet swell of her behind, rocking her against him, then loosens the pressure and skims his fingers back up her sides with aching deliberation to cup the curves of her breasts.

[from_the_outside]

"You too, huh?"

But it's hard to tease him when he's running his hands slow and deliberate over her body. Her heart skips as he curves his palms over her behind, then lurches into a painfully quick tarantella as he caresses his way up along her ribs to the swell of her breasts. Even through the layers of clothes between them, she can feel the aching prickle as her body responds to his touch. "Yes," she murmurs, and kisses him, slow and thorough. "Please."

[nerves_of_ice]

He kisses her back, letting her control the pace and intensity of their kisses, and shifts his hands to take the weight of her in his palms as he cradles her curves.

Bucky draws his thumbs up and in toward the center, flicking sharply back and forth over her nipples, and kisses her again.

[from_the_outside]

She gasps against his mouth and arches her back, pressing into his hands as beneath layers of fabric her nipples stiffen at even this light caress. Nipping at his bottom lip, she deepens her kiss, feeling like her whole body is slowly filling with steam.

[nerves_of_ice]

“Yes?” he murmurs, and does it again, then presses in through the fabric to take each nipple with his thumb and index finger, alternating between light pinches and rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers.

“Tell me if you don’t like something,” he orders. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

[from_the_outside]

"Don't stop," she whispers, her breath shuddering as he teases her, sending aching pleasure flooding through her. "Baby, please."

Her hands roam to his back, gripping his shirt as she trembles against him with every sweet touch.

[nerves_of_ice]

“When we’re together,” he murmurs, “I’ll do this with my mouth.”

As he speaks, each word low and warm and filled with promise, he doesn’t stop teasing her, using her reactions to gauge the kinds of touches and pressure she likes.

“Your skin was so sweet when I kissed you over your heart, baby, I can only imagine. And I do.”

[from_the_outside]

"Oh, god," she groans, utterly lost in the sensation of his hands on her body and the image that goes searing into her brain of his mouth on her bare skin. "I want to touch you everywhere, baby," she whispers. "I want to kiss your skin and see you shiver. I could spend hours learning every inch of you."

[nerves_of_ice]

“So could I,” he tells her, as he slides one arm around her to pull her tight against him and kisses her deeply.

His other hand glides over her side, her hip, then down over her leg to the hem of her skirt. He brushes the backs of his fingers over her so as not to snag her nylons, and finds she’s not wearing any. Bucky groans against her mouth and cups his hand against the back of her thigh, skin warm on skin.

[from_the_outside]

"Baby, god – "

She shifts and drops a hand to hike the hem of her skirt up so she can lift her knee to his hip, granting him as much room as he wants as she kisses him back, deep and drugged. "We could go sit down," she murmurs, her whisper a hot breath against his lips. "If you want."

[nerves_of_ice]

“I’m not sure my self control’s that good,” he murmurs, a hint of breathless laughter in his words.

“It’s all I can do to keep from dropping to my knees in front of you as it is, sweetheart.”

He runs his hand higher, then down again, then up to cup the lower curve of her rear before drawing his fingers down along the back of her thigh to her knee.

[from_the_outside]

"If you don't get a day off soon, I'm going to lose my mind," she tells him, her breath stuttering in her chest as his warm hand runs over the back of her thigh. She's clinging to him, her mouth meeting his again and again, one hand running along his back to his side to his hip. "I can't stop thinking about you."

[nerves_of_ice]

“My beautiful angel,” he whispers, and kisses her again. Slowly, with gentle caresses, he starts to ease his hand out from under her clothing, meaning to pet and soothe her down rather than continue to inflame their desire.

“Soon.”

[from_the_outside]

"Sweetheart," she murmurs, and kisses him back, melting a little with each gentle touch, each sweet press of his mouth to hers. She shivers as his hand tracks down over her skin towards the hem of her skirt, runs her own palm over his hip and the back of his trousers.

[nerves_of_ice]

An answering shiver runs through him at her touch, and he presses closer to her, against her, drawing her to him.