Steve laughs so open and loudly that it shocks him. It's like brushing off the dust on a record that had once been his favorite and had been forgotten as years went by; he knows all the words and all the tunes but it's like relearning them just to actually hear it once more. Bucky is fresh air after nearly drowning. He's a glass of water after miles in the blazing sun. He's a lifeline as he's always been but he's also the sanctuary to rest in once Steve is safe. And he is, here. With half the world hunting him and friends hating him, in this room the simple fact is that he is safe and loved.
Steve hadn't realized until now that he hasn't felt that way since before Pearl Harbor.
"No. No, Buck." He's still smiling and if he had a mirror it would blow him away how much the genuine happiness changes his face. Steve rolls them over so he can lean over Bucky with one hand holding him up. The other just can't stop petting at his hair and cheek.
"You gotta remember, we went on so many dates. I saw you with those dames and how you just tilted your head and got them to blush and lean in closer. It was like magic when I was younger. And then when I started figuring myself out, it was something I almost was hungry for. And sometimes...sometimes you would. And I would think..."
Steve shakes his head. No use thinking of the past when there was a naked Bucky underneath him and a past version of himself to seduce. Jesus. What had his life become?
"I know your face when you want someone," Steve says. He lets his own gaze heat up as though to prove his point, looking Bucky up and down from the new vantage point. "And maybe it was an act or a role you played...but to me then, it was real. And I know it in the dark. So just. Look at me like you want me. Let me see it. Reach out and..."
His breath studders for a second, throat seizing with an emotion he hadn't realized was welling up. Heartache. Longing. Hunger. Steve remembers how touch-starved he'd been his whole life and how touch-starved he remained up until this very night. It's the best advice to give Bucky in order to get Steve melting into his arms and it also feels like a personal betrayal to just lay it out on the table. Like reading his own diary aloud.
But if he can't trust Bucky with it, there's no one. And indeed, without Bucky, there is no one.
"Just touch me. You have no idea how bad I need it. Just touch me. Doesn't even matter how. That's it. I promise, that's all you need to do in order to have me, 'cause in most every other way, you already do."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2022-05-25 04:35 pm (UTC)Steve hadn't realized until now that he hasn't felt that way since before Pearl Harbor.
"No. No, Buck." He's still smiling and if he had a mirror it would blow him away how much the genuine happiness changes his face. Steve rolls them over so he can lean over Bucky with one hand holding him up. The other just can't stop petting at his hair and cheek.
"You gotta remember, we went on so many dates. I saw you with those dames and how you just tilted your head and got them to blush and lean in closer. It was like magic when I was younger. And then when I started figuring myself out, it was something I almost was hungry for. And sometimes...sometimes you would. And I would think..."
Steve shakes his head. No use thinking of the past when there was a naked Bucky underneath him and a past version of himself to seduce. Jesus. What had his life become?
"I know your face when you want someone," Steve says. He lets his own gaze heat up as though to prove his point, looking Bucky up and down from the new vantage point. "And maybe it was an act or a role you played...but to me then, it was real. And I know it in the dark. So just. Look at me like you want me. Let me see it. Reach out and..."
His breath studders for a second, throat seizing with an emotion he hadn't realized was welling up. Heartache. Longing. Hunger. Steve remembers how touch-starved he'd been his whole life and how touch-starved he remained up until this very night. It's the best advice to give Bucky in order to get Steve melting into his arms and it also feels like a personal betrayal to just lay it out on the table. Like reading his own diary aloud.
But if he can't trust Bucky with it, there's no one. And indeed, without Bucky, there is no one.
"Just touch me. You have no idea how bad I need it. Just touch me. Doesn't even matter how. That's it. I promise, that's all you need to do in order to have me, 'cause in most every other way, you already do."