Hey readers! This is an M-rated companion scene set in chapter 31 of my main story, The Wyvern. Make sure you've read that first or you will be so confused, my friends. Enjoy!

Back at the safehouse, Maggie was done with waiting. She and Bucky came together, laughing and gasping and teeth clashing, learning (or re-learning) what their bodies could do. The clothes they'd put on for the hike back came off again the instant the safehouse door shut behind them, and Maggie couldn't bring herself to feel sorry about ripping Bucky's shirt because he was there, under her hands and lips, warm and tasting of salt.

Bucky found the sensitive spot behind her ear with his lips and she gasped, brain shorting out and feet stumbling slightly as she pulled him with her through the safehouse. Bucky caught her, his metal arm clinking against her moorings and making them both laugh breathlessly.

"You're sure?" Bucky asked, because the urgency between them could not be mistaken.

"I'm sure," Maggie breathed, using the brief pause to kick off her shoes. "If you are?" When she looked up, Bucky's eyes were blown black, and she shivered.

"Pretty damn sure," he replied, and Maggie jumped on him. He laughed into her mouth when he caught her, hoisting her legs around his hips. Maggie grinned back, but only for a moment, because then his mouth was on her neck, kissing and teasing and sucking, and she didn't know what her face was doing because her mind was surely in a puddle on the floor.

Somehow they made it into the bedroom, and just before Bucky reached the closest bed Maggie sucked on his pulse point and scraped her fingernails against his scalp. He dropped to his knees, cursing, and Maggie looked up in alarm.


"Give a guy a little warning," Bucky muttered, eyes dark and voice hoarse, and managed to make it to his feet just long enough to tip them into bed. Maggie laughed into the side of his neck, heart bursting, and then leaned back to help him take her pants off.

"Next time I'll carry you," she decided.

After over a week of learning each other's bodies, neither of them wanted to put off what they both wanted. Maggie thought she might feel vulnerable, completely naked with another person, but it was Bucky and he gave her that look, like it was the first time he'd ever seen her, and he told her she was beautiful. He didn't look too bad himself.

Maggie had done her research this time, but nothing could prepare her for the real thing. She was constantly surprised by her own body, at the way it jerked and resonated when Bucky touched her for the first time, and at the sounds that came pouring out of her mouth, almost unbidden. Bucky was patient, checking and re-checking and triple-checking that she was okay with each thing he did before he did it, showing her what their bodies could do.

It was messy and uncoordinated at first, and they had to keep up a constant stream of "yes" and "not quite", telling each other what worked and what didn't, what touches were too hard or too soft. But they knew each other well, and when Maggie couldn't express quite how much she enjoyed one move Bucky made with his fingers, he could read it easily enough in her eyes.

Maggie was an enthusiastic learner, and her body thrummed with movements and feelings that had been denied it for too long. It didn't hurt, because they were careful, and after a few moments of just feeling weird she realised what the fuss was all about. To keep herself from getting overwhelmed she focused on Bucky's pleasure, on what made him shiver and moan and gasp her name. He seemed more concerned with making sure that she was alright, that she was enjoying it, but so far she'd enjoyed just about everything he did to her, and she wanted to know what he liked.

She might have been a little too focused on finding that out, because she brought him to his peak long before she was close, her mouth on his neck as she straddled him, her hips rising and falling against him.

"Meg," he gasped, and she threaded her fingers through his. "Meg, I'm-"

She released his neck but didn't slow down, looking into his eyes. "Let me see you," she whispered, nose brushing his, and he came apart under her, metal arm whirring and his flesh hand clenched on her hip.

Maggie was fascinated, and her heart pounded with pride and affection and her own pleasure, a pleasant burn in the pit of her stomach. She'd never seen something so beautiful as Bucky's open mouth and closed eyes and dishevelled hair.

She rested her elbows on either side of his chest and waited for him to come back to himself a little, chest heaving and sweat glistening on his skin. He opened his grey-blue eyes, and the sight of him so unravelled made her shiver.

One moment he was looking up at her, and the next she was on her back, his mouth on her neck and his hands on her chest. "Bucky," she breathed, suddenly overwhelmed, but she didn't want him to stop.

"So good," he murmured into her collarbone, his flushed face trailing across her skin, dropping kisses. "You're amazing, Meg, wanna make you feel good."

"Bucky." He'd reached her abdomen now, and Maggie fumbled for a grip on the bedframe over her head, searching for support, because she was certain she was about to shake out of her own skin with pleasure.

Bucky showed her what his mouth remembered, pleasure she'd only read about, sensation she could never have imagined. Her legs shook, slung over Bucky's shoulders, and her hips moved restlessly until his metal arm reached around to hold her down. Her blood sang and her nerves danced, and Maggie knew in that moment that with natural instincts such as these, people were never meant to be made into weapons.

When Bucky brought her to her peak, she crushed the bedframe in her hand. The splintering crack was a distant thought, unimportant, because her body was alive. She was conscious of nothing but Bucky and her own pleasure, the thumping heartbeat in her ears.

Maggie faded back into her body who knew how much later, to the sound of Bucky chuckling in her ear, and a fistful of splintered wood.

"Oops," she said, startled at the huskiness to her voice, and dusted her hands off over the side of the bed. She rolled back to the sight of Bucky, gorgeous and there beside her, his grey-blue eyes on hers. Maggie spared a glance for the destroyed bedframe, judged that it probably wouldn't affect the structural integrity of the bed, and then scooted over to Bucky, throwing her sweaty limbs over his and dropping her head on the pillow beside him.

"Sorry about the bed," she hummed, feeling tingles wash up her body.

Bucky's metal arm, wedged under her torso, whirred. "I'm just glad it wasn't my head," he smiled back, and reached up with his flesh hand to push her sweaty locks off her forehead.

She winced. "I promise I was trying to be careful."

"You were careful with me," he said, and leaned over to kiss her. "Besides, for your first time, I'd say a bedframe is a small price to pay."

Maggie grinned, her cheeks still flushed with exertion.

The last few paragraphs here overlap with what's in the main story – I included it just to make this scene flow a bit better. Hop on back to The Wyvern and enjoy the rest of the chapter!