[ 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]

“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.

[from_the_outside]

The groan that tugs out of him lands in her stomach like a grenade. She traces his lip with the tip of her tongue and kisses him more deeply, lost in the way he holds her so close. "I'm glad to hear that," she murmurs, and lifts a hand to rake her fingers through his hair.

[nerves_of_ice]

He opens fully to her as she teases him with her tongue, drowning in her, and kisses her back with fierce passion.

[from_the_outside]

She makes a soft sound, heat blooming in her stomach, and closes her hand in his hair as she pushes up on her toes to kiss him back. Any breath she'd been able to catch once he'd taken his hand off her skin incinerates all over again as her heart kicks over in her chest and takes off like a racehorse.

[nerves_of_ice]

He shudders under her grasp, as she presses closer, and kisses her again and again before he makes himself tip his head against hers.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

[from_the_outside]

She shakes her head, her breath puffing fast and light against his lips. "No," she murmurs.

"I don't want you to stop."

[nerves_of_ice]

He groans aloud and kisses her again, nearly desperate, wanting her closer.

“Baby—“