[Bucky used to think he was on the verge of splitting in two. Back when he'd failed the mission given to him. A time when the soldier was more dominant, and the man who he had been was fighting a losing battle. He would wake up as Bucky and the asset would whittle away at his memories bit by bit until Bucky was gone again. Some days were bad and the nights worse, but as he moved from city to city, crossed oceans and mountains, he began to learn how to be a person again.
It was slow, he was still working on it, but one day Bucky woke up and the asset didn't come back. Memory and experiences kept him dormant, and even if the threat was still there, he stopped feeling like he'd split and shatter at the smallest wrong move.
He was a patchwork man, pieced back together by faith and love, and in his lowest moments, Bucky remembered that both those things could be found in Steve. He thought Bucky could get better, believed in him when he didn't believe in himself, and loved him. Was in love with him. He didn't feel deserving of it but he wanted to spend every second he had left to live trying to be. He wanted to tease and touch, to kiss his best friend and work up the courage to tell him that happiness was the shape of Steve's smile and the blue color of his eyes.
Knowing all this, Bucky's body doesn't react when his mind reminds him of how dangerous Steve is. That he's strong and clever and could hurt him if he wanted to. Steve's patient hands and soft mouth feel amazing and parting his lips to let his tongue slip in is an almost immediate reaction to the warmth and pressure.
There's a thrumming under his skin he hasn't felt in years. Adrenaline and desire, sense-memory taking over as he smooths his hands over Steve's shoulders and straddles his lap, knees pinned to the sides of the other man's thighs. Bucky's vibrating with a good kind of tension that feels brands new, and he exhales in a rush against Steve's mouth in a way that would have been a loud groan if he hadn't stopped it. The press of nails against his shoulders, the way he'd sucked at Bucky's tongue have his hips moving on their own, seeking contact and friction.]
Steve.
[His voice is soft and thready, almost a whine that he didn't know he was capable of. Impatient fingers drag down Steve's sides, tugging his shirt up and breaking the kiss to make it happen. He takes the space of two seconds to admire what science made of Steve's body before he dips back in and presses kisses across his collarbone, breathing heavily as if he was close to being out of breath.
He feels like he's on that edge again, ready to split open. It's not the same. His walls want to crack to make a gap big enough for Steve to fill.]
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It was slow, he was still working on it, but one day Bucky woke up and the asset didn't come back. Memory and experiences kept him dormant, and even if the threat was still there, he stopped feeling like he'd split and shatter at the smallest wrong move.
He was a patchwork man, pieced back together by faith and love, and in his lowest moments, Bucky remembered that both those things could be found in Steve. He thought Bucky could get better, believed in him when he didn't believe in himself, and loved him. Was in love with him. He didn't feel deserving of it but he wanted to spend every second he had left to live trying to be. He wanted to tease and touch, to kiss his best friend and work up the courage to tell him that happiness was the shape of Steve's smile and the blue color of his eyes.
Knowing all this, Bucky's body doesn't react when his mind reminds him of how dangerous Steve is. That he's strong and clever and could hurt him if he wanted to. Steve's patient hands and soft mouth feel amazing and parting his lips to let his tongue slip in is an almost immediate reaction to the warmth and pressure.
There's a thrumming under his skin he hasn't felt in years. Adrenaline and desire, sense-memory taking over as he smooths his hands over Steve's shoulders and straddles his lap, knees pinned to the sides of the other man's thighs. Bucky's vibrating with a good kind of tension that feels brands new, and he exhales in a rush against Steve's mouth in a way that would have been a loud groan if he hadn't stopped it. The press of nails against his shoulders, the way he'd sucked at Bucky's tongue have his hips moving on their own, seeking contact and friction.]
Steve.
[His voice is soft and thready, almost a whine that he didn't know he was capable of. Impatient fingers drag down Steve's sides, tugging his shirt up and breaking the kiss to make it happen. He takes the space of two seconds to admire what science made of Steve's body before he dips back in and presses kisses across his collarbone, breathing heavily as if he was close to being out of breath.
He feels like he's on that edge again, ready to split open. It's not the same. His walls want to crack to make a gap big enough for Steve to fill.]