[ 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.

Comments

[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.

[from_the_outside]

"I keep thinking about those first tests," she murmurs, her hand roaming slowly over his back, down to his hips, over the swell of his behind, pressing herself to his warm, lean, strong body. "How warm your back was."

[nerves_of_ice]

He wraps both arms around her and pulls her flush against him, shivering harder. Bucky kisses her hair, then her cheek, then her mouth.

“Sharon,” he murmurs. “You undo me.”

[from_the_outside]

She kisses him back, then puts her arms around him and rests her head against his, trembling with want and self-restraint. "You do the same to me," she whispers. "Completely. Do you have any idea how special you are?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He laughs, just a little, soft and low, holding her close. “I’m just a simple soldier boy, baby. You’re the one who dropped out of the heavens.”

[from_the_outside]

"There's nothing simple about you," she insists, low, and wraps her arms around his neck, unwilling to let go of him. "You're one in a million, soldier boy."

[nerves_of_ice]

He tips his head to kiss her again, running one hand back up into her hair as he does.

“Look who’s talking.”

[from_the_outside]

She makes a small, amused sound against his mouth, then returns his kiss with a sweet one of her own. "I'm just number thirteen," she teases.

[nerves_of_ice]

This time his laugh rings clearer. “Lucky number thirteen?” he teases.

[from_the_outside]

"Bad luck," she tells him, smiling at his laugh. "For the bad guys."

[nerves_of_ice]

“And lucky for me,” he says. “Since I’m not a bad guy.”

[from_the_outside]

"Definitely not," she murmurs, and leans up to kiss him, gently.

"You're a pretty great guy."

[nerves_of_ice]

He threads his fingers through her hair again and angles her head into the kiss.

“Beautiful lady,” he murmurs. “You’ll turn my head with such compliments.”

[from_the_outside]

"Good."

She nibbles at his bottom lip, then soothes it with another kiss. "You deserve it. More people should try to charm you back."

[nerves_of_ice]

He makes a low sound as she bites his lip, and manages, barely, to keep hold of himself. He can’t stop the way his arms tighten around her, though.

“I don’t need anyone else to,”’he says, softly.