( it's like they've shoved open a door and both gone tumbling through, the tempo increasing, a snowball starting to gather speed. and there— that's easier, as she sinks into the cushions and bucky sprawls over her with the hard planes of his chest against hers, dog tags swinging off his neck and bumping against her jaw as they kiss, again and again, until their lungs are starving for oxygen. he's half-propping himself up with an elbow and a knee, just enough to lift his hips for easier access as karen starts to undo his jeans. this new position gives them better opportunity for their bodies to collapse together, every part touching: his metal shoulder pressing against hers, a jumble of limbs, knees bumping against knees, his mouth fitting into hers and tongue licking into her mouth as that fire of need and want just gets stoked higher.
and then bucky's whole body arches above her when she finally gets his jeans open and gets her hand around him; his spine curving, burying his face into the crook of her neck with a gasp, a profanity murmured into her skin. just that one touch alone seems to have strummed all his strings, a humming along his nerves as all his attention narrows down to just this: karen's hand, that leisurely stroke. it's been so long that he's hypersensitive, oversensitive — it's a more extreme reaction than she was expecting, most likely, the way he just crumbles, instantly undone and overwhelmed. over the past several decades, he has known pain, stubbornness, relief, adrenaline, grief, even good humour—
he had, in fact, almost forgotten what pleasure felt like.
he's intent on re-learning.
once bucky catches his breath again, he finally goes for the bralette once more; fumbles at karen's back for a moment, eventually finds the clasp at the back, unhooks it and drags the fabric loose, replaces it with a warm hand clasping her breast, thumb circling lazily. )
no subject
and then bucky's whole body arches above her when she finally gets his jeans open and gets her hand around him; his spine curving, burying his face into the crook of her neck with a gasp, a profanity murmured into her skin. just that one touch alone seems to have strummed all his strings, a humming along his nerves as all his attention narrows down to just this: karen's hand, that leisurely stroke. it's been so long that he's hypersensitive, oversensitive — it's a more extreme reaction than she was expecting, most likely, the way he just crumbles, instantly undone and overwhelmed. over the past several decades, he has known pain, stubbornness, relief, adrenaline, grief, even good humour—
he had, in fact, almost forgotten what pleasure felt like.
he's intent on re-learning.
once bucky catches his breath again, he finally goes for the bralette once more; fumbles at karen's back for a moment, eventually finds the clasp at the back, unhooks it and drags the fabric loose, replaces it with a warm hand clasping her breast, thumb circling lazily. )