-- oh dear diary, we fell apart.

[yourbestguysgun]

"... What do you mean record a message? Ain't the whole point it bein' the other way round. Stupid piece o' --."

☎ Call
☏ Text
✔ Voicemail

[ ooc: action is also a-okay, if you know where to find him. :) ]

Comments

[yourbestguysgun]

[ His breathing has become shallow, quiet pants in the dark of the bedroom, and Bucky keeps touching Steve's face, wants to keep their soft connection going during this. He's more experienced than Steve is, but this is something people just don't do, shy away from, and he's lost in the moment, the heat of it, the intimacy, can feel his stomach shudder and clench with tension. ]

Hey. Hey, you're gonna have to uh - let up, or m'gonna --.

[punchedhitler]

[Steve looks up, his eyes wide, as he moves off Bucky's cock.]

That's the point, isn't it?

[yourbestguysgun]

Hey. [ Mouth twitching. He almost wants to laugh. ] Don't throw my words back on me, smartass.

[ But the distinct level of pleasure in his voice completely ruins the fake annoyance. ] I was just sayin', you don't have to, uh--.

[punchedhitler]

[Yeah, yeah. Shut up, Bucky, is what he wants to say, but he doesn't, he just fastens his mouth around Bucky's dick again and jerks his hand once. If he's surprised, he's surprised.]

[yourbestguysgun]

Shit.

[ It's still surprising when his body kicks in to gear, everything too hot and tight for a moment, and he muffles the cry against the back of one hand, the other seizing in the sheets and tightening as he spills over the edge. ]

Fuck.

[punchedhitler]

[It's surprising - the feeling, anyway, because Steve was prepared for it, and the taste - salty and bitter and foreign - isn't altogether pleasant, so he reaches for a tissue and wipes his mouth off.]

Language.

[He's grinning, though, the idea that he did this a little heady]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ It's a good thing he's drifting on cloud nine right now Steve. ] C'mere dummy.

[punchedhitler]

[He makes his way up the bed and presses his face against the side of Bucky's]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ One hand starts stroking through his hair, the other slides up his hip and over, wraps around his erection with a sure grip. ]

[punchedhitler]

[Because of the location of his face, Steve's gasps are probably ridiculously loud. Each time Bucky's hand makes a pass, it gets deeper, his own hands moving around the other man's head to tilt his face and press a kiss against his mouth - closemouthed because, well, Steve respects that Bucky might not be interested in the flavor of the inside of his his mouth just now]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He doesn't care about that, thumbs over the head of Steve's dick, smearing precome in his wake to slide his hand back down again, tilts to press his mouth against Steve's and tease him open again. ]

[punchedhitler]

[Steve finally opens his mouth and kisses Bucky back like he's drowning and Bucky is water, because in another moment he comes, shuddering against his best friend]

You know...

[He takes a gulp of breath]

Dunno why I was avoiding that so long.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He grins, lifts his hand to lick his fingers clean. It's probably a bit more dirty than he's ever really been, but he's comfortable with Steve, and he knows he's ridiculous. ] Uh huh.

[punchedhitler]

[Steve's blush is ridiculous]

Geez.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Laughing, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and leaning in to nuzzle along his throat. ]

Sorry.

[punchedhitler]

You don't have to apologize.

[He holds onto Bucky like he's gripping to the world through him, like he'll float away otherwise. Steve's relaxed and calmer but the memory of the nightmare is still there.]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He's quiet for a moment before he shifts. ] I want you to do somethin' for me.

[punchedhitler]

What?

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Bucky shifts from underneath him, rolls on to his side to fish something out from one of the drawers. There's a clink, and he moves back, takes Steve's hand and presses two silver rectangles into his palm. His dog tags. ]

I'm not goin' home, so I reckon I don't need 'em anymore and I don't have anythin' else I can give you but this. [ It's a good thing it's dark, because Bucky couldn't do this in the open. ] I'm not goin' anywhere, and if you keep these then you'll keep knowin' that, right?

[punchedhitler]

[Steve takes them and feels them in the dark, his fingers tracing out Bucky's name. He holds them tight for a second, then reaches for his own (which he still puts on every morning, he doesn't like to sleep with them and never did) and strings them alongside his]

I'll keep them.

[He puts the tags back and presses his palm against Bucky's chest, quiet]

Is it idealism that makes me hope that everything back home turns out okay without us?

[yourbestguysgun]

No. [ Bucky keeps weighing up his own guilt over the matter. He doesn't want to die. It's fine to pretend that he's okay with it, but to know that if he ever did, his life is about to be snuffed out, it's awful. He doesn't want to leave Steve. ]

But I'm bein' selfish and I don't care.

[punchedhitler]

No, I guess you don't.

[Steve holds on tighter]

[yourbestguysgun]

You're mine. [ Curling into him, fingers a little too tight against his grip. ] And if the Red Skull or the Nazis've got anythin' to say about that, then they can come an' talk to me about it. I ain't letting you go.

[punchedhitler]

[He laughs a little but it's quiet]

I don't need you to protect me, Bucky.

[Words that have been said over and over again, for years]

[yourbestguysgun]

Tough.

[ Kissing him again. ] Doin' it anyway.