#ymah

Knowing his friend, Bucky had plied her with the promise of food that morning and had made good on it as soon as they’d arrived. Oil had seeped into the fibers of the thin, paper plate in her hand, weakening its integrity and making it flimsier than it was to begin with. Carefully, she tore off another piece of the fried mass of dough that had been coated in mounds of powdered sugar and popped it in her mouth. Like a less attractive relative of the mouthwatering beignet that she’d tried in Louisiana, it still scratched the itch.

As she glanced over at him while he continued talking about some little attraction that they’d just walked past, he paused with a little smile as he looked at her. The wide brown eyes he’d gotten to know so well were attentive but a sheer, white streak of powdered sugar dusted on her lips caught his attention and he couldn’t rid himself of the urge that he suddenly had.

“Doll, you got—” Chuckling, Bucky cupped her face tenderly, “C’mere…”

Thankfully, both of Maggie’s hands were occupied when he caught her lips in a short kiss—if they’d been free, there was a high probability that they would have flailed a bit in surprise. It was sweet, the feeling and the taste of sugar on her lips, and slow. Though it wasn’t as if it was their first kiss—not by a long shot—it was the first time he’d ever kissed her in public and it sent her head spinning.

“Bucky!” Maggie chastised softly with rosy cheeks as he pulled away, a charming grin making him look boyishly handsome as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Mm, you’re right.” Tearing off a piece of the funnel cake, he popped it in his mouth and gave her a little wink, “It is good.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help the way that she looked around to ensure that their little moment had gone unnoticed. They were a secret…although, it wasn’t as if she’d told him that. It was an unspoken thing; but it wasn’t like she was ashamed of Bucky—not at all. She’d never want him to think that. No, there was just something about someone else knowing that made things feel real. And when things felt real, they hurt a lot more when they eventually ended.

A tall, rectangular box-structure behind Bucky caught her eye and any hint of a smile that had been on her face, slid away in an instant. After all this time, the little booth still looked the same—the blue lacquer on the outside with painted filmstrips had been bleached by the sun and weathered by storms, the heavy black velour curtain that separated the interior from the world around it hung limply from the rings on a small bar.

One of the millions of filmstrips that it had produced over the years was in her nightstand at home, another had been carried through space and time, across the universe and back into the past. That photobooth had ended a relationship that broke her heart and began another that eventually did the same in the end. And there it was, just silently standing as if it were a monument to all of her heartbreak, a piece of some modern-day Stonehenge that had been erected to taunt her.

“Do you want to get some pictures?” Bucky’s line of sight had followed hers to the box that advertised ’30-second photos.’

“No!” Her refusal came far too quickly, and his expression turned mildly suspicious, but she had a feeling that climbing into that photobooth would be like taping over an old video cassette; it would muddle the memories and destroy the old ones and she didn’t want to do that. As it was already, her presence at the amusement park, alone, made her feel like she was trying to replicate, or even replace, a moment that she’d shared with Steve.

Taking a breath, she added, “I mean, I just…would rather look around some more. Maybe later.” Linking her arm through his, Maggie pulled him along and continued past the old photobooth though it took everything inside of her not to turn around and stare because maybe if she looked long enough, she could have seen five years earlier, when things were easier and she was happier, but she couldn’t keep allowing herself to slip into the past.

It hurt far too badly.

Changing the subject quickly, she watched as a group of giggling kids disembarked some thrill ride, “When everyone was gone, this place mostly shut down, you know? It was empty and everything was out of order. It was kind of creepy.”

“Now, it reminds me of when I was a kid.” Bucky sighed with a nostalgic smile as he took in the sight. Sure, nowadays there were screens everywhere and the music was more electronic, but the bones were still the same. A newly repainted, yellow sign caught his eye and he let out a low, impressed whistle, “I can’t believe this thing is still standing. It has to be a hundred years old.”

Squeezing his arm, Maggie asked innocently, “What, like you?”

“Brat.” Cutting his eyes at her, he took the last piece of funnel cake and bit into it with a playfully spiteful grin and Maggie pouted, tossing the white plate into the trash, and brushing the residual sugar from her hands. Speaking through the bite, he nodded towards the advertised ‘Wonder Wheel,’ “Want to give it a shot?”

Maggie had to crane her neck back to look at the towering ride; it was a massive Ferris wheel made from green, crisscrossing metal and red spokes that led out to multicolor cabins for the passengers inside. The ones on the outside of wheel were stationary as they made the slow rotation but the smaller ones within swung back and forth threateningly with the breeze; the movement made her nauseous to even imagine.

Screaming from only a few hundred feet away caught her attention and she peered over her shoulder slowly; the rickety, white, wooden rollercoaster that Bucky had been teasing her about all morning looked like it was on its last leg. It seemed to be some kind of a lose-lose situation. Grimacing, she turned back to her neighbor and bartered, “If I do, does that mean I don’t have to ride the Cyclone later?”

“Deal.” He offered a hand, and she accepted his terms with a handshake and a decisive nod. At least the Wonder Wheel looked semi-stable, not accounting for the swinging cars that she kept an apprehensive eye on; she could only hope they were purposeful and by design rather than a mechanical failure.

The teenager that closed and latched the metal door behind Bucky, sealing he and Maggie within one of the small passenger cabins, somehow looked less than uninterested in his work. Had he even done the proper safety checks? What if the door swung open while they were hundreds of feet in the air? Or if the car detached from the wheel and plummeted to the ground? Were there safety mechanisms in place? When was the last time someone had inspected the old ride?

A creaking sound drowned out the cheery carnival music that was pumped through the park’s speakers and she gripped the metal handle beside her, turning her knuckles white as they slowly began their ascent. The music grew distant, and she was soon left with only the sound of her own heart beating thrumming in her ears. Bucky’s arm casually rested on the back of their bench seat while he placidly took in the sight of everything growing smaller on the ground below them.

Counting each excruciating second of her inhales and exhales, Maggie silently forced her heartrate to slow. Ever since she was a child, she’d never been too fond of heights in certain capacities. Once, on a family trip to Chicago sometime in the late nineties, Phillip Hall had needed to carry his six-year-old daughter across the glass floor of the Sears Tower when she’d been paralyzed with fear after reading that the ground was more than a thousand feet below where they were standing.

She flew relatively often but, for some reason, planes were fine—they were regulated and, as long as she didn’t look out the window during take-off, she could pretend that they hadn’t actually left the ground, so it didn’t matter. But amusement park rides and glass floors and the mere idea of something like parasailing or riding in a hot air balloon? They made her break into a cold sweat and were typically out of the question.

There was just something so disconcerting about not having her feet on the ground; she’d never been one to have her head in the clouds, physically or metaphorically. Feeling the burn of Bucky’s always intense gaze, she cracked an eye open to chance a look at him and hesitantly admitted, “Have I ever told you that I don’t really like heights?”

“Then why the hell did you agree!?” She could hear the exasperation that tinted his tone as he stared incredulously at the woman crammed into the small seat beside him.

With a huff, as if it was obvious, Maggie finally opened her eyes, carefully staring at him so she didn’t look down, as she shot back weakly, “Because you wanted to ride it!”

“You could have just told me that you’re afraid of heights. Jesus, Mags.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he peeked out through caged metal to check the ride’s progress as they slowly continued their trip up to the top of the wheel.

With a little sniff, she started, “I’m not—” An eerie creak from the aging metal monster took the remaining words from her mouth and suddenly she was glued to his side with shaking hands. The glimmer of amusement was unhindered in his eyes as she grumbled lowly, “Shut up.”

“You’re too stubborn.” The words that should have been biting were, instead, affectionate. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder as the cabin came to a stop at the wheel’s apex, Bucky trailed his thumb back and forth over her bare shoulder. After all this time, he felt like he knew so much about the woman, but small things like everyday fears or favorite colors just seemed to go unmentioned. “Just a few more minutes, then we can get off.” Giving her a squeeze, he added teasingly, “And I won’t make you ride the cyclone either. Promise.”

“My hero.” Her disdainful words were dry. It felt as though they’d been stationary for an hour though it had been less than a minute as she muttered, “We’re in a tin can, in the summer heat, two hundred feet in the air, and—”

“We aren’t that high up.” He chimed in, peering down at her.

“Well, that’s how it feels.” Maggie protested, sitting so incredibly still as to not let their little car move. All she wanted was to relax into Bucky, but every muscle was almost painfully tensed, “I hate this.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she could feel the word vomit swelling beneath the surface. When Maggie got stressed, she had two defaults: complete silence and nonstop talking, and it seemed as though the latter was what was coming. Maybe it was due to the close quarters and the need to fill the silence, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I lied.”

Brow furrowed, he watched her worry her bottom lip, “Hm?”

“This morning when…you asked if I’d ever been here, I lied.” Pressing her lips together, she looked down at her hands in her lap. Taking a breath, there was a hint of regret that reflected back at him in her eyes when she looked back at him and admitted, “I have been here. Once. A few years ago.”

Nodding, he was able to piece the story together but quietly clarified, nonetheless, “With…”

“Yeah.” With a sigh, she finally relaxed back into the seat and into Bucky’s side, flinching at the quiet groan the metal let out at the motion. “I thought, I don’t know, maybe it would be easier and help me move forward, but I just kind of want to throw up instead. Then again, that could be the ride, not the circumstance.”

A nostalgic little laugh broke from her as she remembered that summer morning when she’d looked at the paper that Steve had been reading over breakfast, “It was before he and I got together—I was actually dating someone else, and Steve and I were friends and he brought me here because I’d never been.”

Bucky was quiet, just listening as she spurted out all of the thoughts that swam around her head like she was prone to doing at times, “I knew how I felt about Steve but apparently, I hadn’t convinced anyone but myself.” At once, it simultaneously felt like so long ago and like she could still feel that cautious, giddy excitement of falling in love; for so long she’d tried to keep those feelings at bay, but it was futile. There was no choice when someone’s heart made the decision for them.

“The guy was kind of a jerk but…I shouldn’t have led him on when I couldn’t give him what he wanted.” She felt that familiar sting of regret deep in her chest as disappointment colored her words. She’d hurt Nick and had sworn to never do that again, but she’d come to realize that, although in a different way, she’d ultimately hurt Ben just the same. Her indecision and refusal to admit how she felt for Steve had brought about an irreparable rift.

“I didn’t even know what I wanted.” The arm around her shoulder felt like it weighed a ton; what did she want anymore?

Maybe there was a reason that she could still feel that cautious excitement, that terrifying, exhilarating feeling that stole her breath and made her feel like she was free falling from the sky. Maybe it was Bucky.

Somehow that felt like more than she could give. Her heart was still being held together with rolls of tape and cushions of pins—it felt far too fragile to dive off the cliff’s edge again so soon.

But maybe she already had.

The way the wheel rotated was far too slow for her comfort. Looking out through the caged metal as they slowly crested the top, she caught side of the white roller coaster and quickly changed the subject, needing something else to focus on, “He said he got sick on that because you made him ride it.”

With a snort, Bucky defended himself as he watched the little rollercoaster’s car bank around one of the many turns on the track, “He was always sick. It wasn’t the cyclone’s fault.”

Ignoring his shoddy defense, she was reminded that the first time Steve had spoken about Bucky to her had been during their day trip into the city as they walked around the abandoned park. Was this how he’d felt? Plagued by a painful nostalgia for someone who was long gone?

“He told me how you met, about the kids trying to get his lunch money before you stopped them.” Nudging Bucky gently with her shoulder, she added earnestly with a little smile, “He was really lucky to have had you.”

His only response was a pained half-smile as he bit his tongue. Maybe there was still some residual anger that swam just below the surface, leaving a bad taste in his mouth when he thought of his old friend. He hadn't just left Bucky. Steve had been lucky to have Maggie and he’d let her go too, so what did that say about him?

Even after all this time, he still couldn’t understand how he could have walked away from her. Perhaps it was bias, but he didn’t know how anyone else could hold a candle to the complicated, aggravating, beautiful woman that was tucked into his side.

Before he knew it, the rotation slowed to a stop as their car dangled just slightly over the loading platform. Giving her a crooked smile, he unwrapped his arm from around the shorter woman to unlatch their door, “See? Already done. You made it.”

Stepping out first, he used one hand to steady the little cabin while Maggie accepted his other, outstretched one as she disembarked the ride with wobbly legs, giving him a grateful, slightly embarrassed smile.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so thankful for her feet to be back on solid land than she was in the moment. If it wasn’t Coney Island and there weren’t questionable substances splashed all over the pavement, she would have kissed the ground.

With a hand on the small of her back, Bucky led her to the exit, past the line of people waiting to board the Ferris wheel as heavy, gray clouds began to obscure the sun with the threat of a short, seasonal storm that would become a deluge before clearing the sky and leaving only blue and swirls of white behind.

As Bucky held the old, metal gate open to allow them passage, a stout, older woman with a wide brim hat clutched her husband’s arm as she cooed at Bucky and Maggie when they passed, “Aren’t you two the sweetest?” Looking between the white-haired man by her side and the young pair, she sighed wistfully, “Don’t they remind you of us, Jack?”

As the tall, thin man nodded in response to his wife, Maggie’s pink, sun-kissed cheeks went darker than they already were as she shook her head with a small, awkward smile, “Oh, uh—we’re not a couple”

“Oh, we said that too. Now it’s fifty-five years next month.” As she waved Maggie off, she looked to Bucky with a knowing, nostalgic expression. “I remember those early days. Don’t let them pass you by.”

With a small nod, he gave the older woman that strained smile, that he’d found himself wearing far too often, as he continued to guide Maggie away from the ride and the couple with a quiet, “Have a good one.”

The door was barely closed before Maggie turned and had Bucky pressed against the solid wooden slab. Pulling him down to her level with her hands on his cheeks, she could feel the way he chuckled as he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tighter, murmuring against her lips, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need you.” Her words were muffled as she shoved her hands under the hem of his shirt, trying to push it up and get it off. She needed him; she needed something to remind her of what they were doing. The lines were starting to blur, and it was terrifying; were they friends who’d had a normal day out? Or had that been some kind of date?

“Hm?” Appeasing her, he shed his t-shirt before she gave a satisfied hum as her hands trailed over the ridges of the muscles on his abdomen before quickly going to work on his belt with only one goal in mind.

“I want you to…” Trailing off as she undid the buckle with shaking hands, she paused as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers. Her thoughts were everywhere, bouncing off the walls as she. fought to gather them, “I don’t want to think.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she hesitantly began, “Would you…”

With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up, forcing her to look into his eyes. Her pupils were blown out, making her chocolate eyes even darker as she stared up at him with that wide gaze that made him want to devour her whole. With a little smirk, he asked, “You want me to be in charge, peach?” At her nervous nod, the wolf-like grin on his face spread wider as he hoisted her up, “I’ve got you.”

Wrapping her legs around his waist with a giggle, he carried her through the apartment, murmuring against her mouth, “You don’t want to think?” At her quiet hum, he continued lowly, “Gonna fuck you hard enough to turn off that brilliant brain of yours, get you all stupid and cock drunk for me…” With a pained groan, he carefully sat her on the floor with one last gentle squeeze to her ass through her skirt as he demanded, “Take that off and kneel on the bed.”

As Maggie pulled the flowery, sun dress over her head, she was left in only a little, blush pink set with lace embroidered on the hips and cups and he bit his bottom lip as he watched her toss the light fabric into her laundry basket. She never knew when they’d decide to act on the benefit part of their friendship, so she’d recently taken to wearing the little matching sets that she’d found herself purchasing more and more often.

With a quiet curse, he pulled the mirror from her wall, and she chastised half-heartedly as he carried it across the room, “Bucky!”

“I’ll fix it later. Now, do what I said.” He snapped, pointing to the bed with a mischievous glint in his eye. A coy smile on her lips, she climbed onto the bed, kneeling in the center as he propped the mirror up on the dresser directly in her line of sight. Meeting her eyes in the mirror as she followed his instruction, he murmured with a prideful smile, “Good girl.”

Shedding his pants, he positioned himself behind her so she could see him over her shoulder in the framed mirror. The bulge in his boxers pressed firm against the small of her back and Maggie gave a teasing wiggle of her hips that he stilled with his hands. Closing her eyes as his touch ghosted over her body, his breath was hot against her ear, sending heat rippling through her as he murmured, “Now, I want you to watch yourself. Keep your eyes right there.” With a firm hand on her jaw, he directed her face to the mirror, and she opened her eyes. The orange sunset that bled through the curtains illuminated the room and set his eyes ablaze as he stared into hers through the mirror; with a single brow, raised in challenge, she nodded.

Appeased, he gathered the bronze waves of her hair and tucked them in front of her shoulder. His lips trailed over her shoulders and neck, whispering, as he went to work unhooking each of the tiny clasps that kept her bra hooked around her ribs, “You know how pretty you look when you’re coming all over my cock,” Nipping at the pale, smooth skin of her throat, he slipped his thumbs under the straps that had fallen limp and helped slide them the rest of the way down her arms. “And my fingers?” Tossing it aside, he cupped the warm, soft mounds on her chest, kneading them as he let out a low groan, “And my tongue? Never seen such a beautiful sight.”

As his vibranium fingers rolled her pebbled nipple teasingly, his other hand grazed down her stomach and slipped beneath the lacy fabric of her panties where she’d felt warmth beginning to pool from his touch and words. Gliding a finger over the seam of her folds, he let out a low groan as she sank back into his arms when he just barely ghosted a finger over her clit, “God, already so wet. You needy for me?”

One of her hands slipped back, clutching the firm muscle of his thigh as she let out a soft, pleasured sigh at the feeling, rocking her hips into his hand. Keeping her eyes open as she watched him through the looking glass she nodded as she murmured, “Yes…”

“Tell me what you need.” His words were muffled as he pressed his mouth against her neck, trailing up and down, never staying in one spot long enough to leave a mark as he slipped his hand back up to where his other was still occupied.

“Touch me.”

“I am.” He teased and she gave a soft whine, wrapping her fingers around his wrist as she tried to push his hand down to where she really wanted it. Feigning surprise, he grinned wide, “Oh, you want my fingers?” Feeling the way his chest shook as he chuckled made her shiver as he brought his right hand to her mouth, pressing his middle and ring fingers to her lips as he murmured lowly, “Get them wet for me, baby.”

Her tongue swirled around his digits, sucking as she hollowed out her cheeks before he slipped them out and replaced them where she wanted them. Spreading her knees further apart, Maggie’s breath caught in her throat as he traced slow circles around her clit before dipping his fingers into her warmth.

“James, fuck…” With a soft sigh, she reached back, threading her fingers into his hair as he slowly pressed them inside before drawing them back out. In the reflection, she could see the way his hand moved beneath the thin fabric and let out a soft moan. A breathy gasp caught in her throat as he crooked his fingers inside, making her keen as he pressed against the spongy spot that made her see stars.

A hand on her throat forced her to look forward and she felt her walls clench around his digits involuntarily at the new sensation, her face flushing as he caught her eyes in their reflection. Grinning at Maggie’s reaction, he relaxed his hand as he teased, “Naughty girl…”

“Bucky…” His fingers moving in and out of her at a relentless pace forced everything from her mind except the sensation of touch; the vibranium hand on her throat, his hard, warm body pressed firmly against her back, his breath on her ear as he whispered into it.

“Never knew you liked this—such a fucking slut…” A deep chuckle broke from his chest as he tightened his hand just slightly, bringing a pleasant fuzzy feeling to her brain that was already swimming in an ocean of dopamine. “Tell me what you want, peach,”

The nickname that had initially made her flush with annoyance had somehow become her favorite. The gentlest squeeze from his hand forced her to respond with a broken moan as his thumb focused intently on her clit, “Your tongue…”

“Where do you need it?”

“My…” Trailing off, her cheeks went red as she tried to get the word out. He was the one that always did the dirty talking—not her. It felt as if her entire body was on fire as she opened her mouth again before she was cut off by her own moan as his fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of her channel.

“Tell me, baby.” Bucky’s taunting voice was almost sing-song as he murmured lowly into her ear, “Say it.”

As his fingers moved faster, she felt her thighs begin to shake as she gasped out a half-hearted, “Please…”

Pretending not to hear her, he teasingly asked once more, “What was that?”

It felt like the edge was just slightly out of her reach as she gasped out desperately, demanding, “Fuck— I want your tongue on my pussy. Bucky, fuck, please!”

“Mm, fuck…” Before she could wrap her mind around the way he moved, she was on her back, staring up at him as hovered above her with that cocky grin. Capturing her lips in a smooth kiss, he dipped his tongue into her mouth, caressing hers. Trailing kisses down her neck and chest, taking a moment to pay attention to her rosy nipples that were pert in the cool, conditioned air, he settled between her legs with a smirk as he looked up at her. “Let me clean you up.”

Dragging a finger over the little damp spot that had formed from his prior actions, he watched as she propped herself up on her elbows, choking back a little whimper at the too-soft touch. Rolling the light pink fabric down her legs, Bucky tossed them aside as he hooked her legs over his broad shoulders; a shiver ran through her as the cool vibranium pressed against the back of her knee.

With a playful click of his tongue, his tone feigned disappointment, “Made such a mess of this sweet little cunt. You sensitive, doll?” He barely brushed a finger down her soaked slit, and she couldn’t stop the way her hips bucked at the stimulation, a sob pulled from her chest. Nipping at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, she could feel the way he smiled as she shifted restlessly. With his thumbs, he parted her lips to expose her soaked center as he cooed, “Look at this pretty, pink pussy all spread out for me.”

Without adieu, Bucky’s talented tongue licked a broad stripe from her weeping entrance to her swollen clit before going to work on her core insatiably. His hands all but covered her thighs as he held them open, spreading her wide before him. No matter how badly she needed to clench her thighs closed, whether to keep him close or push him away because the pleasure was too much, it wasn’t possible. “So sweet for me, peach…”

The vibration of his words made her whimper as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking in an erratic pattern that made her writhe on the wrinkled sheets as her fingers gripped his hair tightly; he was ravenous as he licked and sucked and nipped, driving her wild. As he slipped two fingers into her tight channel, pumping them in and out with lewd noises, she sobbed out his name as he worked to get her ready for him, “Bucky—”

A warmth pooled low in her stomach, and she couldn’t stop the breathy oh’s that were pulled from her chest. Squeezing her eyes closed, Maggie rocked her hips up into his mouth as he sucked at her labia and dipped his tongue into her clenching core like a man starved. Just as she was about to fall over the edge, he pulled back with a lecherous grin. A needy whine fell from her lips as she gripped his hair tighter, trying and failing to keep his mouth pressed where she needed him most as he held her firmly by the hips, pressing her into the bed.

“Such a greedy little slut for me…” Pressing his lips to her mound, his thumbs brushed over her hips as he asked with a faux naivety, “What? Did you wanna come?”

With a shuddering breath, she dropped her head back against the pillows as her fingers tightened in his hair, pleading, “God—fuck, yes.”

“Where are your manners, peach?” His words were low as a gentle swat to her clit made her back arch off the bed at the surprising cocktail of pleasurable pain. Rubbing over her little button with a thumb, soothing the barely-there sting, he cautioned with a teasing smile, “If you come, I’m not letting you stop ‘til you’re begging.”

“Don’t care—please, James.” Shaking her head as she looked down at him, Maggie wasn’t even certain that her words were intelligible as she begged and babbled with hooded eyes, “Please, let me come. Please, fuck—”

Without a verbal response, he ducked his head back down and returned to his lingual assault, pulling a loud, ‘James!’ from deep in her chest as she rocked her hips against the two fingers that were thrusting deep inside of her at a punishing pace, working her open. It wasn’t long before her thighs were clenching as he crooked his fingers just right and sent her over the edge.

“That’s it, fuck…” He hummed.

Her back bowed off the bed as a pleasant warmth spread through her body, radiating out through her fingers and curled toes as his tongue laved over her sensitive skin, graduating from flat broad strokes to little kitten licks that made her twitch with aftershocks of her climax. Trying to close her thighs and shy away, she whined before he sat up, blushing as she spotted his lips and chin shiny with her juices. With the back of his hand, he wiped away some of it with a smug wink.

“You thought we were done? Not even close, baby.” Maggie’s eyes were wide as he crawled up to lay beside her. As he began to trail his right hand down her neck, she shook her head and shyly grabbed at the vibranium appendage; there was something so beautiful about it. He may have hated it, but it was one of the things that she adored most about him and she’d been nervous to ask for him to touch her with it. But now, she couldn’t help herself.

With a chuckle, he switched hands at her silent request, “This what you want, hm?” His black and gold fingertips trailed down her throat, to her chest that was still heaving as she tried to find her breath again; holding her still with his other hand wrapped around her, resting low on her stomach, he reminded her softly, “Use the word if you need me to stop.

Before he could do anything else, Maggie gave him a cheeky grin as she instructed quietly, “Don’t stop.”

“Such desperate little girl, aren’t you?” She didn’t realize just how sensitive his touch had left her until the metal fingers dragged through her wetness, gathering it, and smearing it messily across her glistening folds as she squirmed in his tight embrace. His thumb focused on her little bud as he pushed two fingers back into her warmth, “Need this little cunt stuffed all the time. Should just keep my cock right here, shouldn’t I?”

With a blush that spread from her cheeks down her chest at his teasing, she could only let out a moan in response. With a hand behind her, she slipped her hand into his dark green boxers and easily found what she was seeking. Using her thumb to spread the precum leaking from his tip, that she knew was swollen and red and ready for her, Maggie slowly jerked him off at an uneven pace as his fingers scissored inside of her, trying to ready her for what was still to come.

“You like that idea, peach?” He sucked at a spot just behind her ear and she whined in some semblance of agreement as the movement of his fingers quickened.

They’d spent more time in bed together than either of them had expected to and, while he teased her about the way she clung to him after he came deep inside of her, she knew he liked it just as much as she did. There was something about the warmth and feeling of fullness that made a shiver run down her spine.

“You wanna keep my cock warm like the good, little whore that I know you are? Never gonna leave your cunt, baby. Love how tight and sweet it is, all for me.” As Bucky felt her body shudder, his hand low on her belly pressed steadily as the tips of his fingers easily found her g-spot and massaged the spongy area deep in her cunt, “Look at your legs shaking—you close already? You gonna come for me again?”

“James—” Maggie was all but chanting his name as her hand stilled, wrapped loosely around his hard shaft as she felt yet another orgasm beginning to approach. Squeezing her eyes closed, her head lolled back to rest against his shoulder; there was a familiar pressure that she hadn’t felt for quite some time and she all but wailed out a broken, “I—god!” as her second orgasm of the night washed over her.

From over her shoulder, he groaned as a clear burst of her liquid came from around his still-thrusting fingers. Rubbing her clit with his other hand, he held her squirming body tight against his as her orgasm continued shooting through her. After several seconds, and a few shorter bursts of fluid, he finally felt the tension leave her body as she relaxed back into him, limply.

Finding her lips, he helped her rest back against the pillows before trailing kisses back down her heaving chest. Ducking his head down, he dragged his tongue through the wetness, sucking at the creamy skin of her thighs as he all but licked her clean despite her mewls as she tried to shy away from his focused tongue.

With one last kiss to her pussy, he shoved his boxers off as he sat up between her legs. Brushing some of the messy hair from her forehead, Bucky’s thumb brushed over her swollen, bottom lip. He waited until her smudged liner eyes opened and found his before continuing with a little smile and a gentle squeeze to her soft skin, “Lift your hips for me, baby,”

Listening, she held them up as he slipped a pillow beneath her. Like it was second nature, her knees fell open, as she exposed her puffy, pink lips to him and her blush went maroon as he teased, dragging the tip of his throbbing cock up and down her slit, “Look at you, spreading your legs for me like a little, fucking slut and I didn’t even need to ask. Such a good fucking girl for me…”

When his crown breached her clenching hole and slowly began to push in, he let out a low groan, “Goddamn, you’re so tight. Love your sweet, little cunt, peach…”

Holding her hips tightly, Bucky sank deep into her with one, slow, languorous thrust. Rocking his hips back, he almost pulled out completely before pushing back in and forcing a muffled whimper from her lips. Finding an easy pace, she let out a hum at the feeling of him pressed deep inside of her, the rhythm become soothing as it rocked her into submission.

Leaning down, covering Maggie’s body with his, he trailed his hands up her arms. Lacing their fingers together as he pressed her hands into the mattress, her head was already in the clouds as she muttered a soft, “Harder—”

“You need it harder? Fuck,” Snapping his hips into hers again and again as she let out a moan that bounced with his every move, he groaned when he felt her body begin to tense beneath his, “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!” Maggie gasped out just before his lips found hers again, his tongue massaging hers in a languid, breathy kiss.

Rolling his pelvis against hers, brushing against her swollen clit with each thrust, he taunted, “And who’s the only one who can make you feel like this, baby?”

“You, James, only you—please.” Maggie’s thighs wrapped tight around his hips as she pressed her chest against his, letting out a quiet sob as her sensitive nipples brushed against his chest.

“Only me, that’s right…” Nodding, he quickened his pace, feeling himself near the edge as her walls pulsed around him, “Can feel you squeezing me. You gonna come again, peach? That’s right, come for me—squirt on my cock like a good girl…”

“Oh god, I can’t—” There was an exhausted desperation that tinged her voice as she watched him. Her head felt empty as she shook it, but she didn’t want to use their safe word; she wanted him.

“Yes, you can.” He pressed his forehead to hers while the pressure began to build deep inside of her again, murmuring lowly as his nose brushed hers, “My girl can do it; I know you need to come again, so come for me, baby.” Grunting, he chanted out a quiet, “Yes, yes, yes…”

“James, fuck—” The muscles in her stomach clenched as he pushed deep inside of her with one last, low moan, painting her walls with hot, thick ropes of his cum, sending her reeling as her back arched off the bed for the last time. More of the clear fluid squirted out from her core as she whined brokenly, her body shaking as her third orgasm of the evening washed over her and made her walls flutter around his not-yet softening length, “I, oh—”

“Good job, peach. Fuck, you did so good.” Gathering the limp woman in his arms, Bucky pressed his lips to her glistening forehead as he whispered sweet praises into her ear. After a moment, he helped to rest her back against the plush pile of pillows with a soft, “I’ll be right back.”

Knowing her apartment like the back of his right hand, Bucky easily navigated the space as he grabbed a glass of water from her kitchen, giving Alpine an absentminded scratch, before going to her bathroom to run a washcloth under some warm water from the old, silver tap of her sink.

Sitting the glass on her bedside table, he frowned worriedly when she had no reaction to the mattress sinking as he returned to his spot beside her, “Come back to me, baby.”

“Mmph.” The grumble she gave in response wasn’t enough and he rested a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing over the ruddy skin that still hadn’t redistributed all the blood that had rushed to it.

“Hey, need you to look at me.” At his request, Maggie finally, lazily, opened her eyes with a sated smile. Looking at him upside down, her eyes trailed over his handsome face and the exhale he let out was drenched in relief as he greeted the sleepy woman, “Hey, peach. You okay?”

“Never better.” Stretching like a feline ready for a long day’s nap, she let out a soft hiss as he dragged the soft, warm cloth over the sensitive skin of her thighs. Eventually, she grew used to the routine as he methodically cleaned her up and murmured as her eyes fluttered closed, “We should get dinner—I’m starving.”

Chuckling, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead once more before pulling her into his arms, “You’re a goddamn dream, Maggie Hall.”

Perhaps, in all of the rules and stipulations that Maggie had set a few months earlier, she should have thought about sleeping arrangements because there was something about the way that Bucky’s lips were pressed against her hair, that felt distinctly relationship-like. His sleepy groans as he pulled her closer in the middle of his REM cycle made her wish that she’d thought about it earlier, but it was too late—it would have been strange to create a new rule after so long, wouldn’t it? She just had to…compartmentalize. Even after all the therapy and emotional labor to try and resolve it, she still seemed to be good at sorting things into boxes.

Maybe they’d finished their earlier romp, gotten up to have dinner, then returned to her bed to finally go to sleep, but they were just having sex—really fantastic, earth-shattering, amazing sex—but it was only sex. No feelings permitted. He was her friend and her sexual partner; there wasn’t anything romantic about it. Not in the slow, languid kisses, or the way his hands possessively gripped her waist, and certainly not even in the way that he held her body close to his as he slept soundly by her side where her bed had begun to shape to his form.

Bucky’s heartbeat against her back felt like it was synchronized with her own, each gentle thump should have brought her closer to unconsciousness, but her eyes were still wide open. No matter how sated the multiple orgasms had left her, the way that the moonlight streamed through the window and fell upon her nightstand drawer like a spotlight, was far more enticing than sleep.

All she had to do was take the handle and open it; it had been long enough. Stretching out her arm, careful not to jostle her bed mate too much, she slid the drawer open. Reaching into it blindly, her fingers brushed against the glossy photo strip that she sought; it had been tucked away towards the back, and she felt her breath hitch as she picked it up. It had been half a year since she’d allowed herself to look at the photos.

Carefully, she extracted the plasticky, little paper strip. The dim light of the room was just enough to make out the familiar faces in the four frames, but it wasn’t like she needed it. They’d been tattooed on to her brain long ago; there was one that caught Steve off guard, two were a little silly, and the last one showed a sweet look that he had given her when she’d been totally unaware. At one time, it made her heart swell but now it only stung. Trailing a finger over the photos, she let out a slow breath, but the prickle of tears didn’t come like she thought it would.

Her stomach bubbled.

“She had a thing she did,” he continued. “A rare talent, if you want to call it that. I’m a grown man. No glasses. No brace. But she had a way, ever so subtly, to make me feel like that bent boy again. And as time passed and things didn’t go like she wanted, it happened more and more. Until I was the boy - just a weak, whinging thing at her feet, begging for the least scrap of affection or sympathy.”

It’s like he took a slice of life from her childhood. How many times had she peeked around corners as her mom berated her father for no other reason than ennui? He would withstand her onslaught, softly clucking out an occasional “perdoname, mi amor”. 

She spit poison, but he knelt, brown eyes liquid with adoration, and apologized to her. Every time. Every day. For years. He wore his misery and shame so openly that she found herself averting her eyes. And although he was a good man - loyal and kind - she began to resent him.

“To add insult to injury, I suggested that we start a family. I figured that maybe if she had a wee baby to watch over, she wouldn’t be so worried about other things. I really fucked up then,” he said, eyes wide. “I was sexist. A selfish misogynist asshole, and I wanted her barefoot and bloated in the kitchen. That was a laugh. She didn’t cook.”

“Then how did you eat?” she said.

“I did the cooking. And most of the cleaning. She preferred to have a lie in and then go out for late lunches with friends.”

It wasn’t an odd confession. Her own mother never lifted a finger - they had a cleaning service come in every day to keep things tidy. Because her mother was so contrary, she was never able to form any connection to the staff, since they never lasted long.

“Why didn’t you get someone to come in to do the cleaning?”

His brow wrinkled with indignation. “I come from honest Scottish stock. It’s a shame not to be able to clean up your own muck. It was just us two, hardly an excuse to have some poor woman scrubbing and dusting after us.”

“They get paid to do it,” she said. She played with the buckle on her boot.

“You have a cleaner?” he said, giving her a disapproving look.

“No. My apartment’s small, and dust never really bothered me,” she winked at him. “It add character.”

“It gives me asthma,” he said.

“Then I guess you can’t come over,” she said.

“Am I invited? I could use a cheeky NYC holiday,” he said. “I’m curious about seeing American women in their natural habitat.”

“All animals, are we?”

He shook his head briskly. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I get it. I was joking,” she said. “It’s a pity she didn’t want children.”

He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Last I heard, she’s a new mum to a healthy baby girl,” he said morosely. “She didn’t want to have my children.” He kicked at the firepit.

“Did she actually say that, though?” she said.

“Not quite. For the first half of the marriage, she insisted she couldn’t have children because it would ruin her figure. That made some sense to me, so I waited. We were young. But as things began to fall apart and it was obvious that there would be no modeling career, the truth finally came to light.”

“And what truth was that?”

He couldn’t look at her. No one knew the truth. Not Alex and Olivia. Not even his own mother. And he didn’t know why he was going to tell her. She noticed his hesitation, and squeezed his hand. Old pain began to rise from where he had subsumed it under a mountain of self-loathing and anger. He was suddenly dizzy with it.

“She didn’t want to procreate with me. She would be horrified if she had a ‘gimp kid.’” His voice was hoarse with pain. He put his head in his hands, and his body trembled as he tried to fight the urge to sob. Hearing it out loud, it took him back to the moment his life fell apart. Mara’s face had been so lax, so cold. She didn’t understand why he crumpled in his chair, and went pale as a sheet - to her, it made perfect sense.

“And when we lost Josie, I started to wonder…” he said, his face twisted with horror, “I started to wonder whether…” he took a whooping breath, “ whether it was my fault.” He finally broke down.

She wrapped her arms around him and let his choked sobs shake her. His pain humbled her - there was no anger whatsoever left in her. He tried to wave her away, but she insisted on holding him.  She shushed into his neck and held him tight, taking in the scent of leather and salt. His body curled into her, and he finally hugged her back so hard it made her ribs ache.

He disentangled himself and started to yank at the jewelry on his wrist. “Look-” He lost patience and bit off the fashionable thin leather thong bracelet. He held his right wrist up for her to see.

She rubbed her thumb along the cursive letters.

“Josie,” she read out loud. Without another thought, she kissed his wrist. A tear dripped on his palm. They sat there, just breathing. She pulled up the hem of her shorts. He squinted, then dared to brush the skin of her hip.

“It’s a poppy,” he said, mystified. “Quite nice.” Although tears still dried in his beard, he wasn’t just talking about the tattoo. She linked her fingers through his long ones. He warmed at her easy, mindless gesture. It felt so very nice. Almost better than sex.

“That was her name. Poppy,” she said, smiling at him. “She wasn’t mine through blood or marriage, but I love her with all my heart.”

Was it another girlfriend? His heart dropped. “Wait - who are you talking about?” he said softly. He didn’t remember Olivia mentioning a Poppy.

“She was Ella’s little girl,” she said.

He couldn’t hide his relief. “Her daughter. I see. What happened with Ella?”

She squeezed his hand. “The most common but painful of conjugal sins - infidelity. Our relationship no longer held any adventure or excitement for her. This is a quote.”

“How many years were you together?” he said, rubbing her back.

“Four years, 7 months, and 20 days,” she said. “Nothing like you and Mara.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“At least Mara married you. Ella didn’t believe in the institute of matrimony. She said it was heteronormative garbage and she refused to tow the line for the sake of a false sense of propriety.”

He sucked his teeth. “She sounds a delight,” he said. “So you wanted to do the whole white frock and flowers thing, eh?”

“I love weddings, straight and gay. I’m an unapologetic weeper,” she said. “I guess I wanted that for me. To share our love with people - make a public and binding commitment in front of God and man.”

“Ooh,” he said. “Binding. That just gave me chills.”

“You were married,” she said.

“If it isn’t already apparent, it was harrowing.”

“You loved her, though,” she said. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “At best, she loved the idea of me. The stability and ease of a life with me. But she never loved me. And it happens far too often.”

“You know, not all women see their partners as walking ATM machines,” she said petulantly. She was the main breadwinner as well. But up until the end, she chose to believe it was love, and not being a stable dupe to raise her kid, that kept Ella around.

“I could tell you some stories,” he said, his eyebrows high. “Sad, sad stories.”

“Like what?”

“The divorce process isn’t kind to many men - even those who did things very right. It’s the woman’s word above all, even when there is proof of infidelity.” He cleared his throat.

“Imagine how awkward it is when it’s two women,” she said. He looked confused. “I’ll give you a clue: complete and utter shitstorm.”

“Did Ella take you for all you had, then?” he said, too jovially.

“Thing is, she didn’t have to. Even after the breakup,  I wanted to help her find a proper place for Poppy to grow up, and give her money for her schooling. But she didn’t care. She never really worried about … prosaic things like that, and that’s what worries me. She was the stereotypical  hipster artist, and because I loved her, for four years, I paid for the lifestyle. It didn’t bother me, John. It made me happy to see them thrive, to do and give beautiful things. I never kept a running tally, to my lawyer’s chagrin,” she said, giving him a half smile. “I understand how women can be. We’re not perfect. But as a bi woman, I’m a bit closer.” She winked.

“How so?” he said. She still held his hand loosely on her lap. Her thighs were like velvet.

“I was just joking. What I mean is, I’m straddling a fence and able to look at both sides, both physically and emotionally. Men complain that women are too emotional. Women complain that men don’t listen. And both are right, to a degree. But even if the complaints from both sides are similar, it’s still an individual problem.”

“Life with Mara was constantly walking on eggshells,” he said. “Anything I said, no matter how well-meaning, could end up upsetting her in some way. Still happens, honestly,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance.

She chose to ignore it. “I acknowledge what you said, but what if I told you that it was Mara’s insecurity, and not you, that caused all that misery? It wasn’t your fault.”

“How could such a beautiful woman be insecure? Either way, I tried to make it better the best way I could. With compliments, and kindness, and attention, and trips - I took her to bloody Bali. Paradise. And all she did was sulk in bikini for a week. She looked fucking beautiful, though.” He shook his head.

Connie smiled and bit her lip. She knew the feeling. Her and Ella’s last trip to Thailand had been much of the same - her trying to stay positive and pretend things weren’t falling apart, and Ella finding any excuse to go off by herself.

“Hey …” he squeezed her hand. “You’re gonna chew your lip off,” he said, and pressed his finger on her chin, dislodging it from her teeth. It was bruised and red.

“Did I say something stupid?” he said.

“No. Of course not,” she said. She sucked on her lip pensively. “Sometimes, that kindness and attention is what makes it worse.”

It was getting colder, and the fire was getting lower. He leaned into her and put his arm around her shoulder.

“Wait-” she said, stiffening.

“I’m sorry- it’s just, you’re shivering,” he said, but let her go. He took off his jacket and held it up. “Here. Put it on. Still warm.”

She opened her mouth to protest - something about preferring to freeze than wear his obnoxiously hip leather jacket - but instead, she accepted his gesture gracefully. She slid into it and sat down with a sigh. His scent surrounded her and made her smile. He smelled of … herbaceous green and the ghost of fresh cut wood. Despite the warmth, she got goosebumps.

“Thanks,” she said. His nipples poked through his thin cotton henley shirt. “Now you’re cold, though.”

He smiled and rubbed his chest. Pink rose to his cheeks above the beard. “It’s the price I pay for being a gentleman.”

“You did it on purpose,” she said, nudging him. “You wanted to show the world your goods.”

“The world’s not here,” he said. “Just you.”

His intense gaze made her heart race, but she laughed it off. Oh no. He’s not gonna do some MRA mind tricks on her.

“Okay, what is this? A three-step system to get any woman to bed?” she said. “Because it’s not gonna work on me, slick.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you going on about?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

“You know - number one: engage her, and make her feel in control. Number 2: be vulnerable, and allow her to be vulnerable. Number three …” she stood up and started to walk around the patio, searching for the words,”...give her your jacket and make her feel safe. Yeah. Safe. I see you,” she said, nodding and smirking. “You’re not clever, hipster boy.”

He looked down at his hands and shook his head. “I’m very clever, but this is no ruse. I’m genuinely freezing my lads off right now.”

She took off the jacket. “Then here.” She held it up impatiently.

“I clearly said I would buy you a drink and leave you alone. You are the one who asked me to stay.”

“No I didn’t,” she said. Her arm was starting to burn. The jacket was heavy, but he didn’t take it back. She threw it on the bench and crossed her arms.

“Yes, you did. You asked me what I did for a living. I replied that to answer your question, I would have to remain. You said that this was a public space, and that you couldn’t put me out, implying consent to continuing the conversation.”

She sat down, still pouting. He resisted the urge to smile.

“You think I would say those private things just to get a woman into bed?” he said. “It’s not much of a show of strength, is it?”

She shivered. “Whatever. It’s just not gonna work on me.”

“I wasn’t trying to work you,” he said, and stood up. It stung that she thought the things he told her were just a means to an end. “You women are impossible. If we talk a big game, then we’re egotistical jerks. If we dare to be vulnerable, then we’re weak and revolting. This is why I gave up trying to please you lot. It’s so much easier to please myself - at least I know what I’m about.”

“Shocking revelation,” she said under her breath.

He groaned with frustration. “And things were going so well.”

“See! You were working me!” she said, pointing at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I was trying to get to know you - see what Liv sees. There is a massive fucking difference,” he said.

She faltered, but she refused to give up.  “Why do you care what Liv sees, or feels anyway? You were an utter twat to her. She told me what you did at the park. You … barked a fake orgasm in public to humiliate her even more about what happened between you and Alex.”

“I didn’t really know her then, and I thought the whole thing was a weird lesbian sham. Sandwiches at the park? How civil,” he said. “Bollocks!”

“That’s how she is, though. Civil and kind and lovely,” she said. She didn’t know why her voice was up an octave.

“Well, I didn’t know that then,” he said, matching her volume. “I just thought she was the evil gatekeeper keeping me from who could be the actual love of my life.”

Her jaw dropped. “You loved Alex?” Livvie didn’t tell her that.

He rubbed his face. “I thought I did. I mean, I do, but then, I wanted her as well, for myself. Our drunk thing and what happened afterward felt like it was destined. And that little stunt at the park? I was jealous. Seething.”

“Fuck,” she said softly. “I am so confused.”

“So was I,” he said. “Trust me. Alex and I were drunk that night, but we weren’t …” he tried to find the right words, “... she wasn’t so gone that she didn’t know …” he sighed. She waited for him to finish.

“She was the one who pulled me up the stairs to bed,” he said. “She ripped my clothes-”

She held up her hand. “I don’t need to hear more. Suffice it to say, there was consent.”

“Because I knew that, I thought it meant that maybe there was a chance. That she might choose me. Especially after the baby.”

She sat down hard. Olivia had not told her that, and she knew why. It was weird. And painful. And awkward.

“But you had to know that Alex is a lesbian,” she said finally.

“Should I know? Because she sure didn’t fu-”

She held up her hand for silence again. 

“I’m sorry. It felt weird sometimes, like she wanted me but was too afraid to say so for fear of being judged or something.”

“She did care for you, but more importantly, she needed you. She was pregnant, and frightened, and on the horns of a fearful dilemma - literally.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“No, you think I’m saying she wanted you … sexually. But she didn’t.”

“But she did.”

“She was drunk, and furious, and scared.”

“And really horny,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but friction is friction if you’re drunk enough,” she said. “You were there, and willing. She made do.”

He sat down beside her again. “And it hurt.”

“Slamming your dick up against a brick wall will do that,” she said.

“It made me feel used.”

“Welcome to the fucking club, kid,” she said. “She told you she’s gay. She introduces you to her girlfriend. You never see male overnight guests. Again … Wall. Cock.” She wished she had another drink to warm her. “You still have those feelings for her?”

“No,” he said. “I was so ecstatic about Josie that what was a just a pash blew up to something more. I wanted to love her. I absolutely did. She checked all the boxes - creative, beautiful, passionate - but I realized after losing the baby that we were more meant to be friends.”

“How convenient,” she said.

“Really. We’re very alike, in a lot of ways. Too much, honestly,” he said, chuckling. “That ever happen to you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “With Olivia,” she said.

“Exactly,” he said. “Although the circumstances were weird, I feel so lucky that Olivia, Alex, and I found each other. They changed my life,” he said.

“In myriad ways,” she said, smiling. She couldn’t imagine a life without Olivia.

He laughed softly beside her.

“What?” she said.

“Just thinking. Slamming my cock up against a brick wall. That’s choice.”

“It’s what you did, though. Al’s gay as fuck. Her words, not mine.”

“Are you?” he asked.

“I’m bi, remember?”

“But … you wanted to marry Ella.”

“And?”

“That’s pretty lesbian of you.”

“I loved her,” she said. “Ella could’ve easily been … Elton.”

“Fair warning though - he’s gay as fuck,” he said.

She chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

“Men and women are so different. I don’t understand how you could want both equally.”

“That’s what’s most amazing. The differences. It keeps things interesting.”

“But what if you’re with a woman, and you want to be with a man? What do you do?”

“Is it a committed monogamous relationship?”

"Let’s say yeah.”

“What any good person in a committed relationship does. Practice self-control. Bisexuality is not carte blanche to be a callous, greedy bastard.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “You ever cheated?”

“This conversation is getting deeply personal again,” she said.

“Afraid to answer the question?” he said, raising his eyebrow.

“No! And no.”

“Never?” he said. “Not even a little kiss?”

“No,” she said, irritated. “I think it’s cowardly.”

“How?”

“You ever done it?” she asked, eyeing him.

“I asked the question first. Answer it, then I’ll answer you.”

“It’s cowardly because it’s the easy way out for a person who can’t muster up the bravery to tell their partner the difficult truth that they’re not happy. If they cheat, then it circumvents it completely. It’s like ‘Oops! I went outside the relationship. That’s gross, right? You hate me now, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out…’”

Her voice trembled.

“Spot on,” he said. “Mara didn’t even give me a chance to get angry, though. She didn’t care enough. It was like ‘I’ve been fucking someone else for a year, he makes me feel like a woman, I’ll send someone for my shit, goodbye’.”

The noise from the pub was quieting down. The fire was down to embers.

“I got the line ‘she makes me feel like my most authentic self’. What does that even mean?”

“It’s hipster speak for ‘makes me feel like a woman’,” he said, then let out a snort. She looked at him, thinking he might start crying again. But his face glowed with a smile.

“We’re quite a pair, you and I,” he said. “What a fucking pity party.”

“And worst of all, my glass is empty,” she said. “What time is it?”

He looked at his cell and laughed. “Fuck, it’s after 1 AM!”

“Really?” she said. “You’re telling me we’ve been here for nearly five hours? Impossible.”

He showed her the phone.

“Damn,” she said. “No wonder it’s so quiet in the pub.” She rubbed her nose pensively, something he noticed she did a lot.

“Has anyone told you how utterly charming you are when you’re angry?” he said. He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear, brushing his knuckle gently along her cheek bone.

“No one who doesn’t want a bruise,” she said, but she smiled. She liked his touch. It was gentle and unassuming.

“Then I will say that you are very intimidating. You made me quake in my boots a couple times.”

She lifted her chin high and raised an eyebrow. “Good.”

“You’re so fucking adorable,” he said, shaking his head and smiling.

“Puppies are adorable,” she said. She meant to nudge him, but ended up leaning against him. He felt good.

“You’re right, I suppose,” he said, daring to wrap his arm around her waist. His touch was feather-light, but warm.”You are beautiful.” The way he said it made her look up at him and search his eyes. The swagger she saw earlier was gone. His gaze questioned, and she responded, tilting her head and giving him the slightest smile. He put his hand on her face. Her nipples hardened, although his touch was warm.

He kissed the side of her mouth first. The prickle of his beard made her giggle, but she put her hand on the back of his neck to guide him.

“I didn’t want to offend with the porn beard,” he whispered into her mouth. His lips were so maddeningly soft. The cold flew from her limbs, and it was replaced with desire.

“A little hair doesn’t bother me,” she said, and just as he pressed his lips to hers, someone came out and threw a bucket of dirty dish water on the embers of the fire.

The woman gave them a cursory glance. “We’re closing in 20 minutes,” she said, and left.

He stood up and held out his hand. “I guess that means it’s time to bugger off,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Didn't you drive here, though?” she said. She licked her bruised lip for a hint of a taste of him. Sadly, there was none.

“Yeah. But I’m just in the mood for a moonlit stroll,” he said. When she stood, he put his jacket over her shoulders again. “I can pick up my car tomorrow.”

He held his arm out gallantly, and she linked hers through it. It was a small town, so just beyond the high street, there was only silence and the yellow glow of the street lamps. When was the last time she had ever done this, with anyone?

Too long. And she forgot how good it was.

He bounced beside her, slowing his long-gaited walk to accommodate her.

“What are you so excited about?” she asked.

“I can’t wait for the party tomorrow! I hope Olivia likes her gift. It’s a trifle late, but then again, it took a while longer than I imagined to make.”

“Ooh, sounds interesting. Is it in your magic shop?” she said. They turned the corner, and his house was visible not too far off.

He walked in front of her and took her hands. “Would you like to see?” he said. His boyish energy was infectious. Although at first she thought it irritating, it was growing on her. It was nice being around someone like that, after years of Ella’s borderline soporific coolness.

“Sure,” she said. They were nearly running now. Just as soon as they turned into his front yard, a car engine roared to a stop nearby. In the street, a taxi unloaded two very familiar, very drunk women.

“Oh shit-” he ran toward the taxi, but he drove off, glad to be rid of them.

“Heya there, playboy,” the red head slurred, tripping over her feet and falling to the grass. As he tried to help her up, the blonde came up behind him and grabbed his crotch, hard. He dropped the redhead and held the blonde’s wrists firmly.

“Careful with the jewels, darling,” he said. He was pale with pain.

The redhead managed to get on her knees. She touched him too, but with gentler hands.

“Whoa!” he said, and pulled the woman to standing. She leered up at him, licking her lips.

“You gonna make good on your promise?” she said. “We’re here and ready to go-” she tried to hump his leg, but he held her at arm’s length. The lights from the neighbors across the street came on. He cursed underneath his breath.

He ran up to his door and opened it. “Just … get inside and keep quiet.”

“Don’t wanna give your fancy detached neighbors a show, eh?” the blonde said as she climbed the steps, lifting her skirt high. Her hot pink thong had little rhinestones on it. Just as soon as they went inside, he went to her. She stood in Olivia’s garden, arms crossed. She didn’t look mad, which made him even more nervous.

“I am so sorry,” he said.

“What are you doing here? It seems they’re primed and ready to have some fun,” she said. His kitchen window opened and the redhead stuck her head out.

“Oi! Get your ass over here, playboy,” she said. “And you can join us too, if you’re not shy,” she said, giving her a lascivious look.

“You got anything to drink in this place?” the blonde yelled from inside the kitchen.

“It really looks like you have your hands full. I’m gonna turn in,” Connie said, walking to the back door.

“Please, don’t leave me alone. I don’t want them in-” something crashed in the kitchen, “-I don’t want them in my house.”

“Then why did you invite them?” she said.

“I didn’t. Not really. We were flirting a bit, then you came into the bar … shit!” he slapped his forehead. “The business cards. They had my address.”

“Why?” she said.

“I work from home, remember?” he said. “I’m such an idiot.” An ominous thud came from the open window. When she looked, the two women were drunkenly making out. It was not a pretty sight. He gave them a despairing look and turned back to her.

“Help me get them out of my house,” he said, his face twisted in embarrassment.

“But it looks like they’ve already started without you,” she said. The redhead had pulled the blonde’s dress down and was licking her breasts. He groaned. “Please. I don’t want to … touch them.”

“You did earlier,” she said. She couldn’t believe she was going to make out with him just 20 minutes before.

“A lot has happened since then,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. “I know it doesn’t look good, but I swear this has never happened before.” The blond sat on the counter, and the redhead disappeared below the sill. “It’s just my luck it would happen tonight, of all the nights in my bloody life.”

“You should post the experience on your little site. The mouthbreathers will be really impressed.”

“I deserved that. You know what? I’ll take that, and more, if you help me this once. Please.” He looked miserable. “Use your angry powers for good.”

She rolled her eyes. He fell to his knees and grabbed her legs.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said, and stalked across his yard. The ladies jumped when she yanked the kitchen door open.

She clapped her hands. “Alright, ladies. As they say in America, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

The redhead came up from between the blonde’s legs and wiped her chin. “What are you like, his mum?” she said. “Where’s playboy?”

“Off somewhere calling you another taxi,” she said, loudly enough for him to hear from the garden. “Playboy. Do you even know his name?”

“Names don’t matter, do they?” the redhead said, but she pulled his business card from between her breasts. She squinted at it. “Fuck. Don’t have my contacts in-”

Connie took the card from her and crumpled it. “It doesn’t matter, right?” She pointed at the blonde. “Get yourself together and fuck off to the living room. You can wait for the taxi there, where I can’t see you,” she said, and walked back outside.

“Someone should be by in less than five minutes,” he said.

She made a face. “A taxi in less than five minutes?” That was a statistical impossibility where she came from.

“I know. But I promised to pay whoever got here first three times the going rate, plus tip,” he said.

That made a lot more sense.

“They’re not destroying things, are they?” he said.

“Oh my-” She ran back into his house. They were stuffing anything small they could get their hands on in their cheap purses - curios, CDs, and a little comic book figurine that looked expensive.

She darted into his foyer, where he had a proper English willow cricket bat and walked into the living room, bat held high.

“Empty your bags right now or I swear I will call the police and report a home invasion,” she said, her voice low with anger. “But that’s after I call an ambulance.” The women sized her up, and decided she wasn’t worth the risk - the crazy bitch might not be bluffing.

The redhead dropped the George Harrison CD in her hand. “Sure. Whatever. This stuff’s shit anyway,” she said, and started taking stuff out of her purse.

“No, boo. Empty your fucking purse on the carpet,” she said, pointing at her with the bat. “Both of you.”

They rolled their eyes and obeyed. The women had even stolen a wooden pepper grinder from the kitchen. Connie rolled her eyes as they put their meager belongings back into their bags and clutched them to their chests.

They looked at her with open resentment. “You ‘is bird er summat? The blonde said, going full Northern.

“I’m none of your goddamned business,” she said. The bat was still gripped tight in her hand. The taxi honked outside.”Alright, time to go,” she said, herding them through his front door. They stumbled to the vehicle, where John spoke with the driver.

He handed the man a couple of large notes. “Take them wherever they want to go,” he said. “There’s a bit extra there for clean up, just in case.” The man nodded.

“This wasn’t the ride you promised,” the redhead said petulantly.

“Sorry, love,” he said and walked to the sidewalk. The blonde opened the window and stuck two fingers out at Connie. The rude sound she made faded as the taxi drove away.

“Wow. It’s been quite an evening,” she said. “A rollercoaster of emotions.”

He kicked at the curb sheepishly. “Thanks for your help. I just didn’t want them to say that I’d touched them funny or yelled at them or something.” He looked at her and chuckled. “The bat looks good on you.”

“Oh,” she said. It was still slung over her shoulder. She handed it back to him. “I should get to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

She rooted for the house keys in her pocket. Her heart was heavy. She wanted to be furious at him, but she wasn’t. She was just sad. He ran to the stoop.

“This was not how imagined tonight ending,” he said, hand over his heart. “I apologize if that upset you.”

“Is that what you want? To be a sex object to horny, faceless women? Is that the definition of being an alpha male?”

His genuine panic when the blonde grabbed at him made her curious.

“After years and years of being insulted and rejected, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Granted, that was a bit scary. Sometimes I don’t know my own magnetic charm,” he said, trying to get a laugh out of her. But she just patted his shoulder wearily.

“I need sleep,” she said.

His smile faltered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, er, later today.”

“Uhuh,” she said. He took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back, and closed the door.